Two Different Sides

by L A Tavares

  “It’s a band,” I say, too quickly, and I hope she doesn’t know I’m lying.

  “You’re in a band?”

  For a second, I think she might be impressed. Before I can answer, the bell rings and hundreds of students fill the space around us.

  “See you at rehearsal then, Umm...Blake.” She waves as she picks up the sign-up sheet and steps in to tread the rush of students.

  * * * *

  Now

  The opening of a show, historically, was my favorite part. The house lights are down and the crowd is antsy after being warmed up by our phenomenally talented opening acts. The venue plays dramatic music to prep our entrance to the stage. It never gets old, the way we walk out onto the stage cloaked in a pitch-black darkness then the spotlights illuminate us. Then, the crowd erupts in a collective cry that shakes the walls of the building and I pick up my guitar from its holder to play us into the same song we have opened every concert with for more than thirteen years.

  Xander’s voice joins the music I play—perfect, in sync. A natural chemistry that has existed since the first time we decided to play together in our much, much younger days on a vastly smaller stage. I love opening a show. Like I said, it used to be my favorite part.

  But now?

  Now I like the ending.

  When we close a show, when the stage cannons explode rainbow confetti over the heads of the thousands of fans who showed up to see us perform, the strobe lights flash and cast dancing shadows across the walls of the building we play in—and none of it is as glorious as stepping off the stage where Kelly Montoy waits in the wings. She throws her arms around me and I pick her up, swinging her around in a dramatic twirl that matches the pace of the music that plays us off the stage. In those repeated moments, each time I exit the stage and take part in the post-show routine we’ve created, all the applause in the world can’t match the way she cheers me on.

  We’ve worked hard to get to where we are today— and I don’t mean the band.

  She’s exactly what I have been wanting my entire life. The fame, the music—that was my second dream. She was the real dream-come-true.

  “Do you think you could introduce me to the bass player?” Kelly says in a flirting tone as I reach her in the wings, wrapping her in my arms and spinning her around the way I have after every show she has attended since we’ve made ourselves officially an item.

  “Ahh,” I say between kisses, “he’s very much taken.”

  “That’s too bad.” Her fingers play with the hair that falls against the nape of my neck. “I think I might love him.”

  I kiss her long and hard, and my tongue finds hers. I’ve been working all night, singing songs about love and forever, and still none of the words we sang could mean as much as this kiss we share.

  “I think he might love her too,” I say when we part, and she smiles up at me with a brilliant smile and flushed cheeks.

  Xander joins us in the wings and Kelly reaches up to hug him.

  “Great show.” She kisses his cheek. “Natalie is in the back somewhere, probably reading a book or doing crossword puzzles. You know, usual things to be doing at a rock concert. Are you and she coming out for drinks tonight?”

  “No, I think she and I are just going to head back to the hotel to spend some time together before the band hits the road again. Thank you so much for coming. It’s been an awesome weekend having you both here.”

  He walks to the backstage area and disappears from view.

  “Xander? Not going out for drinks? Is he pregnant?” she asks and we both laugh, because it’s true. Xander drinks whiskey like water and wasn’t one to turn down a drink historically, but he’s changed a lot over the last year or two.

  “They’re so…” I start but can’t find the words as I pull at adjectives to describe our best friends, “married.” She laughs and nods an enthusiastic yes.

  Later, Kelly and I sit in a quiet bar in God-knows-where, Minnesota, sipping drinks and enjoying the few hours we have left together before she and Natalie head back to Boston and the band goes back out on tour without them.

  This tour is different. Our lead singer is a married man. It’s been about a year since I’d brought Kelly back to the school and convinced her to give me a chance. Kelly and I are serious now after years of rejection and being on different pages, then a handful of months as a friends-with-benefits type affair. Things were finally falling into place for us—and I wouldn’t have it any other way—things were just different.

  We play shows and we go back to the tour bus or hotels without any pit stops for parties or VIP rooms. We prefer quiet meals at hole-in-the-wall, family-owned restaurants over lavish five-star restaurants. What is happening to us? Another side effect of growing up, I guess.

  One major change was the difficulty of goodbyes. They were exceptionally harder. I love being on the road, but I had never had anyone waiting for me at home.

  “I’ll miss you,” she says at the entrance to the airport, her bag in hand. “Enjoy the rest of the trip. Have fun—but not too much.” She may be partially joking, but I know there is a part of her that worries about what goes on during these road trips when the girlfriends and wives aren’t around. She doesn’t have to worry. I’m not that guy anymore.

  Chapter Four

  The crowd in Denver is one of the largest we’ve ever played for—and the loudest. Their collective volume yelling over our instruments and mics almost rivals our tone. I can barely hear Xander’s vocals over them but it’s electric. They’re a boisterous, vibrant crowd that’s always ready to rock.

  As if it were rehearsed, I run toward the edge of the stage, guitar and all, and jump into the crowd, turning in time for them to catch me at my back and legs as I surf along their fingertips. It’s one of the few crowds I know I can count on to make it a successful mission—and I take full advantage every time.

  Later, Xander and I sit on stage under soft blue light with only acoustic guitars, singing stripped versions of some of our older songs as the crowd sways back and forth using their cell phone lights like candles to the sky. We usually sit on stools at center stage, but not for this crowd. In Denver, our favorite city to play in, apart from our hometown, we sit at the edge of the stage, almost in the crowd, singing to them and letting them sing to us, becoming a part of the crowd while they become a part of the show.

  Backstage afterward, Xander changes his shirt and tosses me a bottle of water.

  “Theo got us table service at that bar we went to last year. It’s been a while since we had a night out. It should be fun,” he says, assuming I’m in.

  “I think I’m going to call it a night. Go to the hotel, call Kelly and turn in.”

  “Everything okay, Blake?”

  The question shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. For the majority of our careers, all the news, drama and bad nights circulated around Xander. He was full of off-nights and poor choices, but I didn’t get on his case nearly as much as he’s been on mine lately.

  “I’m fine.”

  He shrugs it off and leaves the venue.

  * * * *

  The sun beats against the glass of the tour bus windows when the band arrives the next morning. Once we are all aboard, the tour bus leaves the parking lot headed to Salt Lake City for our next set of shows. Theo and Dom are blaring some brand-new band’s single through the tour bus while Xander I sit at the back in our usual spot by the liquor shelf. He’s wearing his sunglasses, as he so often does while sitting back with his feet up, bobbing his head to the music.

  “What’re you playing?” He looks at my tablet as he hands me a drink.

  “Just this online poker game.” I scrutinize my virtual cards, unsure if I should chance it, but I do. I take a sip of my drink, place it on the table between us and pump my fist at my winning hand.

  Xander shifts positions and leans in next to me. “Is that…? That’s not real money, is it, Blake?”

  I glance at the current bet and overall winnings box at
the top of the screen. I haven’t lost in so long that I haven’t really paid any attention.

  “Umm…not all of it.” I feel fractionally self-conscious and turn the screen out of his view. It’s not a lie. Some of it is credits.

  “Did you play all night? Is that why you didn’t come out last night?” he presses.

  “You sound like Mom.” I purposely don’t look up from the screen. “Only she’s not quite as whiney.”

  “Just be careful.” The tone of his voice is heavy with concern.

  “It’s nothing, man. Just a game to pass the time.”

  “I know, but with your family history…” he starts, but I change seats, cutting off his sentence.

  * * * *

  Then

  In the middle of the night I get up to get a drink and flick the lights on, but nothing happens. I think, maybe, the bulb is out, but then I notice the house is considerably cooler on this already-freezing winter night. Optimistically, I try the hallway light instead, but it too remains dead. Perhaps we’re in a power outage, though the weather doesn’t seem threatening.

  I drag my hands across the old, peeling wallpaper in the hallway until I find the kitchen and light the candle on the stove top. Its flickering flame is enough to give me a small amount of light to get a glass and fill it with water from the sink. As the water runs from the faucet, I look out of the window and realize my mother’s car isn’t there. I’m alone—again.

  The temperature continues to drop and the cold sets in through my socks and sends a shiver up my spine. In the light the candle provides, I see the mile-high pile of bills stamped with ‘final notice’ and overdue warning stamps and I know this isn’t the run-of-the-mill power outage. The lights aren’t coming back on.

  Neither is the heat.

  I bundle up as best I can and leave the close-to-freezing house, knowing there is only one other place I can go.

  I tap on Alexander’s window and he opens it.

  “What’re you doing? And how did you get up here?” he says, looking out of the window, trying to mentally recreate my path across the roof to the second-story window.

  “Power is out at my house. A car knocked down a telephone pole nearby,” I lie. “Mind if I crash for the night? It’s freakin’ cold, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah, come in.” He grabs my arm and pulls me through the window. “Why didn’t you come to the door?”

  “Oh, it’s late. I just didn’t want to wake your mother.” More lies.

  “Yeah, okay,” he says. “Let me find you a pillow and blanket.”

  * * * *

  Now

  I can’t lose.

  Our sold-out show in Salt Lake City went off without any issues and the crowd was amazing. We started small in Utah, but every time we go there, the crowd grows and grows and finally, we sold out not only one but two back-to-back shows in Salt Lake.

  Next stop, Vegas.

  I throw the dice to the table and the other players clap and cheer loudly. I’ve been at the same table for hours, hardly losing anything at all. People hand me drinks left and right, and I am having the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Turning a few hundred dollars into a few thousand dollars? It’s too easy. This feeling rivals even being on stage, and I thought that was the best high I would ever experience.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. Eight a.m.

  Eight a.m.? How did that happen? I guess it’s true what they say… Time flies when you’re having fun.

  A slew of texts and missed calls fill my phone screen. Kelly. Xander. Cooper. They’ve been looking for me for hours.

  Starting with Kelly, I dial her number as I head to a coffee cart one hallway down from the tables on the casino floor.

  I can hear it now, her voice frantic on the other end, yelling at me and asking where the hell I have been.

  “Did you have fun?” Her voice is unexpectedly calm on the other end. I feel like this is a trick question with only one right answer—and since I’m on a roll, I’d bet I give the wrong one.

  “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s Vegas. Xander called last night and told me you guys were out for the night and not to wait up for a call. I’m glad, Blake. You deserve some fun.”

  Xander. I didn’t even tell him where I was going. I’ve been ignoring his calls.

  “Yeah, it was fun.” I swallow hard as my chest tightens and guilt over my AWOL status sets in.

  “Blake?” she says, bringing me back to the conversation.

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  “I said I miss you.”

  “Oh, yeah. I miss you too, Kelly.”

  Chapter Five

  My eyes are so heavy with fatigue that I can barely keep them open. My head and arms feel heavy while my chest is weighed down partially from guilt and partly from being so tired. My top lids meet the bottom ones longer than expected, my head falling forward until I jolt myself awake.

  Everything seems fuzzy. I’m standing on stage where the lights are flashing and the music plays loudly. Xander looks back at me and I keep playing. The room spins around me. The crowd spirals around me like a spinning carnival ride.

  This isn’t dream. It’s a nightmare.

  I imagine myself messing up, then breaking a string as my fingers fumble across the frets, struggling to play notes I used to be able to play in my sleep. Now I can’t play them because of lack of sleep.

  The set list is in front of me taped to the floor and I run my gaze down it. I pick the chords to open a song we’ve played a million times, skipping over a handful of songs on the list. Xander plays it cool, jumping into the out-of-turn song I started playing and adjusting as needed, but he turns over his shoulder and glares at me. I turn my head and see Cooper toss a clipboard clear across the wing like a frisbee, yelling something at someone out of sight.

  And I realize…it’s not a dream at all.

  “What the fuck was that, Blake?” Xander hisses through clenched teeth, backstage after the show.

  “Easy, Xander, I’ve got this.” Cooper steps between us. “What the fuck was that, Blake?” He reiterates.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, but I know it’s not enough.

  “We turned your mics and amps off,” Cooper says, answering so many of the questions I have with that one statement. “But we shouldn’t have had to. Damn it, Mathews.” His eyes are downcast as he walks away, leaving only me and Xander backstage. I’m not in the clear with Cooper. His lectures are lengthy and in depth. He is simply walking away to practice his monologue before returning to me to ensure that I hear the message loud and clear.

  “You need to get your shit together, Blake,” Xander says, pacing back and forth backstage.

  “At least I stayed on stage and made it all the way through my worst performance.” Immediately, I wish I hadn’t said that.

  “You do not get to compare what I went through to what you are doing to yourself.” His eyes are narrowed, and he points his finger at me as he emphasizes the words.

  “Exactly, Xander. This is only about me. When you walked off stage that show, you affected all of us. You spiraled and almost messed shit up for the entire band. At least I’m not taking everyone down with me.”

  The air is hot between us, heavy with angst, anger and pent-up feelings. I hate myself for saying the things I’ve said more than he hates me for saying them. This is how I’ve always been. Instead of backing down or apologizing, I dig the hole deeper and make things worse.

  Xander turns on the heel of his boot and heads toward the exit, leaving me alone with my fatigue and bitter thoughts.

  At least I still have a pocket full of winnings to keep me company.

  “Xander?” I call before he’s out of sight. He turns toward me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’d you cover for me? With Kelly, I mean?”

  He stays quiet for a minute, rubbing his knuckles at his jaw over his facial hair.

  “We’ve always covered for each other, man. That’s w
hat brothers do.”

  * * * *

  Then

  If you told me this time last year that Alexander and I would be standing around a table at Rina Amell’s birthday party, I wouldn’t have believed it. Loners like me and Alexander don’t get invites from the popular crowd. I have a looming feeling we’re going to be on the wrong side of a bad joke, but Alexander seems to think you don’t pass up an invite to this kind of party—whatever that’s worth. Each of us has a plastic cup filled with beer from the keg, and Rina, Kelly and some jocks in letterman jackets join us at the table. Kelly takes a sip of her drink and leans into the table.

  “Julian,” Rina says to a broad-shouldered, athletic guy in a backward ball cap. “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth,” he says. This surprises me. I would have taken him for a ‘dare’ kind of guy, if you’re into the whole ‘judge a book by its cover’ thing.

  “Have you…” she says, pondering her question. “Have you ever smoked pot?”

  He shakes his head no. “Nah, I’ve never touched the stuff. Too much to lose, you know?”

  Someone calls Julian’s name and he steps away from the table, surrendering his turn, so Kelly takes his place.

  “Truth or dare, Alexander?” she calls across the room, batting her long lashes in his direction as she tries to include us in their little game.

  “Umm, dare.”

  She smiles a grin that’s filled with flirtation and danger. “I dare you to…remove one article of clothing.” Alexander grabs the hem of his shirt, inching it up to show his abdomen, and the girls cheer him on. Just when he is about to pull it off, he pulls it back down and kicks off one shoe. The guys laugh. The girls pout.