Punk and Zen

by JD Glass

  “Okay, we’ll do that knot-tying thing,” I said, “but there’s a couple of conditions.”

  “Anything. Name it,” Samantha swore, as she cupped my cheek and her eyes were that deep blue that made me want to do—everything.

  “Full disclosure, Sam,” I told her. I was dead serious, too. “I want to know where in the world you were for six weeks that I didn’t hear from you and that you won’t disappear on me like that again.”

  I was less than surprised to find that Candace worked for Rude—she was A&R, “Artists and Repertoire,” which meant she scouted new talent and signed them. Oh, how it fucking figured, you know? It just fucking figured.

  “Uh, I think tonight would be a good time to fill in the blanks,” I told Samantha while we waited in Enzo’s office.

  She took my hand, kissed it, and swore she would. She was absolutely as good as her word. Samantha told me a whole lot of the things I didn’t know (and a few I didn’t want to, but that’s another story—in fact, it’s hers).

  While in London, I finally got to officially meet her Uncle Cort, who really was as big as she’d described him to me when we were in high school. I loved him immediately, the big, almost burly, slightly gruff man who was probably one of the gentlest people I’d ever met.

  He made me feel welcome, a part of the family that was he and Samantha.

  Back in New York, I got in touch with Jerkster, I mean, Jer—I really couldn’t call him Jerkster anymore since the accident—and Stephie right away. I really missed them! And tell you the truth, they were the people outside of Samantha and Fran I was closest to. That’s the thing about being in a band—you really are a family, even if you don’t play together anymore. It was hard to accept in many ways that Adam’s Rib was over and gone; it had been such a nice dream! But that’s life, and the most important thing was that we’d had a great time while it lasted.

  Jer picked me up from my apartment; we were going to get Stephie and go back to his house. I wanted to meet his mom anyway—to thank her for everything she’d done for me and for us and offer her a retainer for all the stuff I was pretty sure she’d end up doing for me in the future. It ended up becoming a lot for a couple of years.

  Jer really wouldn’t be able to play again—not the way he had before, anyway. It could have been heartbreaking, but he was going back to school to study engineering—sound engineering. “Fuck the sheiskopf bus-driver thing,” Jer said with a grin. “I’m going to be an uber sound guy.”

  I agreed with him. He would be great at that, and I knew right then and there who would do our sound on tour—and who’d run the studio I planned to open one day. Hey, it was okay to have a new dream, right?

  The big shock was Stephie. I’d been smoking a cigarette while Jer and I waited for her in his car, and when I saw her—I flung it away without even thinking about it—she was huge! She was due in about four months. Damn, that was why she’d cried almost every day—and explained a lot more than that, too. I wished I’d known, though. I don’t know what Jer and I could have done differently, but maybe, something. I was glad I’d given her all those Oreos, at the very least.

  Stephie was done with touring, though. ABC But she mentioned that John was a drummer, and you could tell from the way the baby kicked anyway, sticking her little feet out of her mom’s belly as if to say, “Here I am—let’s kick it!”

  “Yeah,” Stephie said after she made us pet the belly and play tag with each foot, “not even breathing on her own yet and already a punk.”

  We laughed a lot about that, and in my head, Stephie worked in that studio I was going to have. I knew she still loved music, and she was super sharp—there had to be something we could do together. I’d find it, whatever it was.

  I was definitely going to talk with Samantha about checking John out as a drummer. I mean, maybe he couldn’t tour, what with a new baby and all that, but we were going to spend about six months in the studio—maybe he could do our recording sessions.

  For the time being, though, I promised I’d bring baby April funky stuffed animals and write her silly baby songs.

  “Why did you decide to name her April?” I asked.

  “Um, uh, because that’s when, she was, uh…” Stephie stumbled and blushed.

  Jer and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. I high-fived Stephie.

  “That’s cool, that’s way too cool.” I smiled.

  “Hey, good thing it wasn’t in John’s car,” Jer laughed, “or her name would be Ford!”

  When Stephie flushed beet red, we laughed so hard we started crying.

  “Ah, shit, I think I peed myself,” Jer said, and I fell off my chair and rolled on the floor.

  “Stop, stop!” I kneeled up on the floor, held my ribs, and gasped between fits. “My stomach hurts!”

  “When you’re done laughing…” Stephie interjected, her lips twitching as she tried not to crack up.

  It was a humbling moment when Stephie asked if Jer and I would be godparents—and he and I stared at each other.

  Wow. That was, like, a big deal, like, a huge deal. I hesitated. I mean, maybe someone else would be more appropriate, at least more appropriate than me.

  “Uh, what about, you know, your family?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, your family?” Jer echoed. I smiled at him a moment because I knew for sure he wasn’t nearly as out of it as he pretended.

  Steph frowned and stared at the ground, then spat eloquently. I admired the way she did that. If I did it? It would either land on my shoe or back on my shirt.

  “Yeah, well…they’re not thrilled that I’m throwing my life away on some waste-of-life, shithead musician.” She looked back up at us and tried to smile, but the result was small, hard, and forced. I saw the tears in her eyes.

  I hugged her carefully; I didn’t want to crush April. The world could be a fucking lonely place, and I couldn’t imagine how scary it had to be for Stephie while trying to bring this little innocent thing into it. I didn’t know John well enough, hadn’t really seen Stephie and him together enough, to know how solid things were between them, but even if it was sealed in stone, Stephie still needed her friends—and I was one of them.

  “Hey, dude, I’m your backup,” I said, and kissed her cheek.

  Stephie hugged me back. “So yeah, then?” she asked, laughing through her tears.

  “Ah shit, you guys are making me cry—it’s a group hug now,” Jer said, and put an arm around each of us.

  “April’s going to get the best guitar lessons,” I promised Stephie. That kid wouldn’t ever have to look too far to find a friend, not if I could help it, anyway.

  We caught each other up on everything, and I told them about stuff between me and Samantha—and begged them to be in the wedding party. I told Jer to wear his kilt—with underwear, please.

  And maybe, I thought as we hugged each other and played with the tiny feet that kept poking out to say hello, I had more than the beginnings of a studio here. Maybe one day, we’d be a label of our own. That dream was growing…

  When I got to the bar, Dee Dee and Jen were happy to see me, although they expressed it differently. Dee Dee gave me rib-crushing hugs, laughed, cried, and kept playing with my hair—which was okay, because it was supposed to stick up all over the place anyway. Jen, on the other hand, gave me a quick, stiff hug and kept slapping my shoulder, and I was okay with that, too; it was part of who she was and I got that, really. I was happy to see them, too.

  “When you settle in, maybe we’ll talk about training you to manage the bar?” Dee Dee asked.

  “I’ll think about that.” I grinned at her. What the hell, managing a business was managing a business, right? It would be an awesome learning experience, and I already knew Dee Dee was a great teacher. Besides, I had to earn a living somehow, right? At least until other things settled out—if they did.

  Nothing was nothing until it was something, and in the music world, that meant signed pieces of paper and a check. I had to wait now
and see if Enzo’s people liked what Mrs. J thought was good for me, then review that and send it back, and so on and so forth until the thing was nailed to the ground.

  It never hurt to hedge a bet, though.

  Samantha had her own stuff to do, so I met Fran when she came back to New York. She teased—a lot—about the wedding while I reviewed the paperwork she’d brought with her, but we both knew she wouldn’t miss it for the world. When the three of us got together for dinner the next night, she told me privately that the most beautiful things in the world she’d ever seen, she’d seen in Spain—and not in El Prado. I smiled at that; I knew what she meant.

  Other people who needed to know were, of course, the various and sundry beings I was genetically related to. I took my mom out for lunch and told her this was it, I was getting married, and it was to Samantha. This was my life, to fuck up, fix up, and learn from any way I could, and yeah, I fell down, but yeah, I kept getting up—and if she didn’t want to be there, I’d get over that, too.

  I told her that she was my mom and I loved her, but this was my line and I wouldn’t let her cross it, and we either could agree to disagree, or we could forget it. I’d still love her, I mean, of course, she’s my mom, but I’d do it from a distance if I had to—she’d have to respect me.

  My mom nodded at all of that and hugged me less stiffly than she had the last time. She then asked me to bring Samantha over next Sunday to the barbecue party they were throwing, so everyone could meet the person I wanted to bring into the family. I asked if we could invite Samantha’s uncle, since he’d be flying in within the next two days. I think it made her nervous, but she agreed.

  As nauseous as the thought made me—and I think I could have given Stephie a run for her money there for a few days—it wasn’t nearly as horrible as I thought it would be, although for a moment when Cort shook my dad’s hand his grin changed, became something slightly feral, and I couldn’t see my dad’s face, but he was subdued for the entire event, thankfully.

  Cort fascinated Nico, I think he may have scared Nanny a bit, but he absolutely charmed my mother and my aunt Sophia with his knowledge of various cultures and legends. He told some of the best creepy stories around the fire pit in the yard after the sun went down while Victoria, uh, Tori sat in my lap and shivered at all the appropriate parts.

  I didn’t want any sort of pre-party thing, in fact it didn’t even occur to me, but Dee Dee insisted and even called my mother (ugh!) to help arrange the whole ABC thing.

  No. Just, no. This was not—no! “Dee Dee…why?” I think I whined.

  “She’s your mother, lieb, she’ll want to do this for you,” Dee Dee told me when I buried my head in my arms to prevent myself from banging it repeatedly on the bar.

  Dee Dee slapped my back with the towel before dropping it on my head, laughing the whole time. She was a great friend. Jen picked the towel up, looked me in the eye, and laughed harder as she dropped it back. She was a great friend, too.

  Of course, it was part fun and part nightmare. The fun was, well, I’m not over it enough to think it’s funny yet.

  It’s not so much that I thought the idea of a shower—party—whatever you want to call it is a bad thing, it’s just that I didn’t want to do the bachelor/bachelorette thing because I felt silly. And the shower thing, well, I knew it was going to get political—you know, family friends, work friends, work people you have to deal with.

  Okay, the presents were cool, because, hey, who really thinks of buying towels or dishes, right? And you know, everyone needs a Crock-Pot and a steamer (okay, I’ve never used either one, and personally, I really liked the Gumby and Pokey cookie jar, and Samantha was into the silverware. Someone had to be, right?). Okay, I’m being an ass—it was all kinda cool, until Candace walked in with Enzo and handed Samantha the toaster.

  She favored me with one of her brilliant smiles, kissed me, and told Samantha, “I wish you both a ‘happy domesticity.’”

  “If you let go of my intended, it will be.” Samantha grinned back and put her arm around my waist.

  I was grateful for her interference, because I admit, I stood there like a dummy—this wedding stuff was making my brain soft!

  “Ah well, can’t blame a girl for trying,” Candace joked back, her green eyes glittering.

  “But…it’s the women who succeed,” Dee Dee said, coming up behind her with a tray of drinks.

  When Candace looked at her, I could almost feel the shock of electric connect between them. Cool, and…not, because I’d have to deal with both of them if they got together. Okay, I could live with that. In fact, I was totally fine for the rest of the party—until the strippers.

  Yeah, strippers as in the plural, more than one (and one was far too many). They were Graham’s idea. Wonderful. Great. Thanks again, Graham. In front of my mom and my little sister—just ABC Page 280awesome.

  I covered my eyes the third time my mom stuck a dollar bill in a dancer’s g-string.

  The night before the wedding I went back to my apartment and tried to settle myself into sleep, but it wasn’t working. I tossed, I turned, and finally, I gave up.

  I switched the lamp on and lay on my back, arms behind my head. I was going to get married the next day. How weird was that?

  It was weirder when the phone rang. I jumped, because it had been so quiet it cut through the silence like lightning slashes through the sky in the heat of summer.

  I got it on the second ring.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “I need to see you,” Samantha said urgently.

  “We’re not supposed to do that,” I said with a smile I thought she could hear, “and you’re too far away.”

  Her voice was soothing to my jangled nerves.

  “Don’t be so sure,” she returned.

  I snatched the blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders before I swung my legs off the bed and walked to the window. I laughed when I saw her in the same overcoat I’d seen her in last time she’d stood there, her hair gleaming under the streetlight.

  “Come on in,” I said into the phone, and that smile in my voice must have been unmistakable, “you’ve got the keys.”

  She walked in seconds later, and I greeted her at the door with a very hungry kiss. “I couldn’t sleep without you,” I whispered in her ear before I scraped it with my teeth. I shoved her coat off and let it fall so my hands could roam her freely.

  “What makes you think,” she said against my throat as we half walked, half stumbled to bed, her hands firmly on my ass, “that you’re going to sleep?”

  We didn’t make it to the bed.

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  The wedding itself was a blast. I’d never had so much fun in my life—well, at least not with that many people at the same time. I can honestly say it was probably one of the best things I’d ever ABC Page 281done.

  I got teased a lot, but all things considered, I kinda expected it. The most important part was that I got to marry my best friend in front of my other friends and family, and I did it with my backup standing next to me: Nico and Stephie and Jer.

  I was really nervous about that kiss part in front of the whole world, but it ended up being the easiest bit and something everyone at the wedding called for about every two minutes. I’m surprised more glasses weren’t broken.

  I smiled so much my face hurt.

  It’s been a few years now, and if you tell me what time it is, I’ll break it down to years, months, weeks, days, and hours since that day. Samantha always laughs when I do that, but I’ve caught her doing it once or twice herself, and it always makes me smile, too.

  I can tell you that it’s been two albums and two tours and this will be our third album—the last we do for Rude Records, because after a long discussion, lots of paperwork, and a few of those horrible shot-things that Dee Dee says are good for you, we’ve opened our own studio. Now we’re going to launch our own label.

  Dee Dee and her brilliant business mind is going partners with us—Fra
n, Sammy, and I. Candace had given up the label for the camera and ad-campaign work. We’d contract her when we needed to.

  Originally, Samantha’s Uncle Cort had wanted to just give us the money for it, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t want anything I didn’t earn, and I’m sorry to say that it was the biggest argument Samantha and I had: she said I was stubborn and I told her I was free.

  We finally understood each other. She saw it as a gift and I saw it as something that could never be repaid. My concern was that the label would never feel like it was “ours,” as in the team’s; they might see it as belonging to Cort, that he’d funded it to Samantha, since he was her uncle, and not to all of us.

  We worked it out. Fran’s West Coast legal, Mrs. J is East Coast, Dee Dee’s the head of general operations, and I’m creative development. Sammy will handle A&R and will fill in for studio sessions on bass (she doesn’t like to tour as much as I do), and you know for sure who our engineer is—Mr. Jeremy J. “Bear” Jenns himself. Stephie has handled our schedule from flights to fittings to interviews for years; she’ll be the general office manager, while her husband, John, is the studio drummer.

  April is our resident cutie until she starts school. It’ll be another year or so before she can start guitar lessons, but John’s had her on drums for a few months now; the kid’s got some chops for such a bitty thing! She’s gonna be some talent some day, though, and that’s not just a proud godmom talking. This kid has got it—in spades.

  And yeah, Aunt Nina wrote some very silly songs for her, ABC and I have to sing them to her whenever I see her, which is almost every day I’m in the studio. It’s cool. It’s fun to sing and do silly little dances about monkeys and chocolate soup.

  We’re signing Graham as a solo artist. Three guesses as to who our head of tour security is, and you’re right if you say Jen.

  You repay loyalty with loyalty. It’s a solid start, and everyone has worked their asses off—and there’s even more sweat ahead. All I know is, I’m not going to let them down: I still eat my Wheaties in the morning (but I still hate Tang).