I put my glass back on the table and take a look around the bar. Almost all the tables are occupied, most of the people are talking about the upcoming concert. A few tables next to us, five guys are engaged in a bet who can drink the most. Some of them are clearly drunk already.
Karen glances in the same direction as me. “Boys will be boys.” She winks at me. “Try to relax and enjoy the night.”
Deep down I know she’s right, but this night is just getting weirder and weirder.
The noisy guys decide to leave the pub. They walk past our table, and two of them join us. One sits down next to me, and one next to Karen. They’re so drunk I barely understand what they’re saying. The guy next to me scoots closer and puts his hand on my thigh. I freeze when his head moves to my ear. His breath smells of alcohol, and he can barely string a coherent sentence together.
“W-w-w-what are two pretty girls like yourselves doing here all alone?”
My heart jumps up in my throat. I look around, frightened until I see Karen. She pushes the guy next to her away and snatches me from the drunkard’s arms.
“We were just taking off. See you later, guys.”
I grab my purse from the table and run after Karen until we’re out of the bar. Once we’re outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air. Karen laughs so hard tears are rolling down her eyes. “Did you see the look on their faces?”
I don’t know why she finds it so funny. Who knows what could have happened? “Are you sure they’re not going to follow us?”
“Of course not, sweetie,” she convinces me. “C’mon, let’s go to the concert. The sooner we get there, the better our spots. Who knows, maybe we even get to see the band afterward.”
Karen smiles.
It has been years since I’ve seen her this excited about something. I can only smile because of her enthusiasm. My first rock concert ever… I have no idea what to expect. But I already know this will be a night I’ll never forget.
Jonathan
With my hands I drum impatiently on the table. The waitress has just taken our order, and now all we can do is wait until the food arrives. Together with my bandmates, I was able to escape the pre-concert hustle and bustle. The sound technicians are doing the last check-ups before we go on stage later tonight. We still have about an hour before we have to be back at the concert hall for the final sound check. That gives us the time to grab a quick bite at the local Pizza Hut.
Like always, adrenaline is rushing through my veins. I always get this excited right before a concert. Music has always been the most important thing in my life. Even at a young age, I knew I wanted to become a drummer. I know what you’re thinking right now: everyone wants to be famous. If it’s not the pipe dream of becoming a singer or an actor, then it’s being a musician. Admit it: who doesn’t want to be famous? But for me, it was a different kind of story. Playing the drums is in my blood. All my life, music has had a big impact on my life. I never doubted for a second that music would be a part of my life, and even though it cost me blood, sweat, and tears, I fucking made it! My band made it, and right now we’re touring across the country — and far beyond.
I had to leave my family to pursue my dreams. It was the most terrifying choice I’d ever made, but it was the only one I could make. When my father made me choose — music or my family — I never doubted for a second. I packed my suitcase and left without looking back. I still remember the expression on my mother’s face when she realized I was leaving.
During my teenage years it was becoming clear I wanted to pursue my music, but my father wanted me to become a doctor. Just like him. Just like my grandfather. His busy practice has been passed on generation after generation. Can you imagine walking into the doctor’s office and facing a guy with tattoos snaking around his arms?
* * *
The day my life changed forever, I was playing the drums in the attic. After years of nagging I’d finally convinced my father to let me buy a drum set. He only agreed to it if I never played it when he was home. Well, that was never a problem; he spent way more hours at his practice than at home. Just like that day...
I let the sticks land on my drums and enjoy the sound of my drumming.
I’m just getting in the flow when the trapdoor opens. My father’s angry face comes into view and I immediately know something’s wrong.
“Get your ass downstairs right now,” he shouts at me.
I never heard him talk like that before. I drop my sticks and stare at my father.
“What's the problem this time?”
“I didn’t ask you for any comments, young man. You have two minutes to get your ass downstairs.”
The trapdoors closes with a bang. I try to imagine what in the world he could be so angry about. I don’t know what I could have done to make him this livid with me. But lately I don’t seem to have to do anything; he’s just always pissed at me.
Carefully I open the trapdoor and go downstairs. My father is pacing the room. My mother’s sitting on the sofa with a sad expression on her face. She’s trying to calm my father down.
His stare drills into mine. “When?”
I look at him questioningly, then at my mother and finally back at my dad. Neither of them apparently cares to elaborate.
“When what?” I ask. “Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“When were you going to tell me you didn’t apply for the matriculation at med school?”
Oh, shit! “How do you know that?”
“How I found out doesn’t matter,” he yells. “When?”
I should have known he’d keep an eye on me. One of his friends at the university probably gave him all of the information.
“Dad, I told you a hundred times before, I don’t want to become a doctor, I want to be a musician.”
My father angrily waves his hands in the air. “A musician? You got to be kidding me!”
He waves the envelope in front of my face. “I took care of your mistake; the university is willing to give you another shot at the matriculation. You can thank me later.”
He’s already turning around, without waiting to hear what I have to say. I can’t believe he did this! He went behind my back, never asking for my opinion. Seems like he doesn’t know me at all. Music is my life, and I’m absolutely sure I don’t want to be a doctor.
“No.”
I try to stay calm, but deep down inside of me, there’s a fire raging. I’m pretty sure this won’t end well. My father stops dead in his tracks. The entire room has gone silent. My mom seems shocked, looking back and forth between my dad and me.
When he finally turns around and faces me, he looks even angrier than before.
“What did you say?”
The vein in his neck is bulging, his hands balled into fists. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
“I said no, I don’t want to become a doctor, so I’m not going to apply for the matriculation.”
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. This is the first time I’m standing up against my dad. All of the other times I caved and just gave him what he wanted. But not this time. Music is my everything and I’m not willing to give that up. Not for anyone, and especially not for my father.
“I’ll keep this simple: you take the matriculation, or you pack your stuff and get out of here.”
What?!
My father and I never had a bond of any kind, but I didn’t think he’d make me leave. My mother tries to calm him down, but it’s no use.
“Kurt, I think you need to calm down. He’s still our son.”
His murderous look darts my way. “Are you going to take the matriculation?”
I don’t answer immediately, and we keep staring at each other. This is it, the moment everything will change forever. You can feel the electricity flowing in the air. If I give him what he wants, my life will never be the same. But if I stand my ground, I’m not sure what I will do.
“No.”
“Then you’re no longer my son.”<
br />
With those final words, he storms out the door. I knew he would be hard on me, but this…. I never expected this in a million years.
My mom starts to cry and runs toward me.
“I’ll talk to him, Jon. Give him some time to cool down.”
“That won't be necessary, Mom. I understand you’re sad, but if that’s how he really feels, then he won’t change his mind.”
Tears gather in her eyes. I look at her for one last time, take in every detail of her face.
“Give me fifteen minutes, and then I’m gone.” I try to force the lump in my throat down. “I’ll never forget you, Mom.”
As fast as I can, I rush to my room and collect the most essential things I’m going to need. When I look around the room one final time, my gaze lands on a framed picture on my nightstand.
It’s a photograph of me; my brother, Vincent; and my dad at Vincent’s tenth birthday. Each of us has a dot of whipped cream on our noses, and we’re all smiling. It reminds me of happier times. I can’t leave it, so I stuff it in my suitcase before I exit the room.
Without looking back, I walk out the door to the end of our driveway. I take my cellphone out of my back pocket and dial the number of the only person who can help me. My three best friends who are a part of our band. Let’s hope one of them has a spare bed for me tonight.
* * *
Whenever I think about it now, a chilling shiver still runs down my spine. I learned a lot from the experience. There’s no way I’ll ever make one of my kids go through something like that. I will never force them to make a life-changing decision against their will. I’ll be there for them and support them, no matter what choice they make in life. I’ll make sure they weigh their options well, but I’ll never force them to choose the path in life I want for them. When my father did what he did, it changed my life forever, and that’s not something I want for my kids.
After that day, I never saw my father again. I tried to stay in touch with my mother and brother, but after a while that became less. Do I miss my family? Sometimes. Of course I still think of them from time to time. But most of all I wonder what happened to my brother, Vincent. He’s probably in med school now; the apple of my father’s eye.
These days, the members of the band are my family. You can’t imagine how close you get when you spend so much time together. Out of the fifty-two weeks in a year, we spend forty-five of them together. That makes for a special bond. I won’t lie: it’s not always that easy. But when the time comes and one of us needs help, we’re always there for one another.
I consider them my family. There’s no one in the band I wouldn’t walk through fire for, and I’m sure they’d do the same for me.
But there’s one person I still think about a lot. Camille, the girl next door. Every time I see someone who looks like her, it makes me wonder. That innocent look in her eyes, those cute little freckles on her nose, or the unique way she’d pull up her nose whenever she saw something dirty. But also: the softest touch of her lips on the day I left her behind. Her beautiful blonde hair and the way she always looked at me. She would have followed me, if I’d let her. But I left my family because of my choices, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her leave her family behind just for me. I wasn’t going to drag her down with me. Even though she didn’t know it, she meant everything to me. And to make sure she had the life she deserved, I had to leave her behind.
I take comfort in the thought that she’s probably very happy right now with someone else. And yet, leaving her behind was the most difficult thing I ever had to do.
The waitress returns with my pizza, and I immediately dig in. You always hear these crazy stories about artists who have these special demands before going on stage. My demand is simple: I need to have a large dinner before a performance. The way I play the drums, I need a lot of energy. I can’t perform on an empty stomach.
“Hungry, huh?”
I look up to see Max, the singer of the band, looking at me with his eyebrow raised. Everyone at the table looks at me, like all of a sudden I have two heads. I don’t care, this pizza is just too damn good.
* * *
When everyone is ready, we walk back to the concert hall together. We have about twenty minutes left until the sound check. The largest part of our group stays at the backdoor to inhale their much-needed portion of nicotine. I still think it’s a bad habit, but after years of trying to convince them to quit, I gave up.
In the time remaining, I walk onto the stage and check my drums. Not that I don’t trust our crew— they’re a fantastic crew, who’ve been with us for years—but I always have to know for sure everything is exactly like I want it. Call me a perfectionist, but I can only start a concert after I’ve double-checked everything.
I sit down at my drum kit, already spotting my pair of reserve sticks taped to the footrest of my chair. At a rapid pace, I hammer away on the drum kit, and I immediately feel all the stress seeping out of me, making way for the adrenaline rush. Only when I am fully satisfied with the sound do I decide to go and take a look around near the entrance.
When I walk past the lobby, I see that a herd of fans has gathered at the doors. You’d think that after all these years of success, I’d have gotten used to it, but I still get goosebumps when I see all those fans who have come here especially to see us. The music world is tough, and no matter how fast you get famous, it can all be over in the blink of an eye.
The band and I know that all too well. We work hard every day to satisfy our fans. Which doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy our success to the fullest. But without our fans, we wouldn’t be here at all.
I’m about to turn around when she comes into view. I freeze and admire her from a distance. Her long, black hair is draped in loose curls over her shoulders. She might wear a rock fan outfit, but everything about her screams she’s not a rock chick. My eyes rove over her face and land on her full, red lips. Something about her reminds me of Camille. But of course it can’t be her. The Camille I used to know would never go to a rock concert. I continue to stare at her lips, when they curl into a sweet little smile. It changes her whole face; even her eyes sparkle when she laughs.
For a minute I think she’s seen me, but that’s not possible because of the tinted glass in the door. I feel like a stalker, but it’s stronger than me. Every detail about her draws me in. I feel my dick getting hard when I imagine her riding me, her legs straddling my lap while I grab her hips and fuck her long and deep.
Oh God, it’s official: I’m a stalker. Look at me, only an hour away from the concert and here I am, standing in some hallway with an erection I can’t get rid of. Frustrated, I turn around and go to my changing room.
When I open the door, I freeze. I blink a few times, but the image remains. I’m not imagining this.
On the sofa on one side of my room is Sofia, stretched out and butt naked. She’s waiting for me. Her gaze travels up and down my body and lingers on my crotch. She looks up at me with a wicked smile.
“I see you’re happy to see me.”
In your dreams, baby!
This is the last thing I need. Sofia and I had sex a couple of times, but when it became clear she wanted something more, I ended it immediately. Apparently, the message wasn’t clear enough.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She walks toward me, still as naked as the day she was born, and I have to grab the doorframe to keep myself from flinging her out of my dressing room. I may not be a gentleman, but the last thing I want is for her to parade around in the corridor and tell everyone that we’re an item. I thought I made it clear: me and her, that’s never going to happen again. If there is one thing I learned in life, it’s to never make the same mistake twice. Sofia is one of those mistakes. She comes to a standstill in front of me and puts her hand on my crotch.
“Come on, Jonathan,” she whispers into my ear. “Your body wants me.”
With her long fingers, she starts to search for my zipper, but before she
can pull it down I grab her hand.
Surprised, she looks up at me. “What?” she snaps.
“Sofia, I thought I made it clear the last time. Whatever there was between us, it’s not there anymore. You can’t barge in here like that.”
“I don’t want a relationship, Jonathan, I just want to be fucked thoroughly.” She looks at me innocently, blinking with her fake eyelashes. “Can you take care of that for me?”
She gives me her most seductive look. A look that would have tempted me in the past, but not anymore. Nothing about her will change my mind. To be honest, I don’t know what I saw in her in the first place, besides a quick fuck.
“I’ll give you two minutes to get dressed and leave, otherwise I’m going to call security, and have you kicked out naked.” I raise my eyebrow at her. “Your choice.”
Her eyes change from bland to furious. She starts to pick up her clothes. Once she’s somewhat decent, she strolls out of the room. “You’ll be sorry about this, Jonathan De Wilde.”
Her words leave me indifferent, and I slam the door to with a bang. Who let her in anyway? I make a mental note to myself to find out after the concert. Whoever was responsible will be sorry. But now is not the time to worry about that—I need to get my mind straight for the concert. The last thing I want is to mess up the show because my mind is somewhere else.
One way or another, women always get me into trouble. I’m thinking it might be time to stop chasing them. I laugh at my own thoughts—like that’s ever going to happen!
There’s a knock on the door and I see Mike poking his head in.
“Ready for the sound check?”
The all-knowing grin on his face tells me that all the other band members have caught on to what happened in here in all its glory.
Knowing them, they won’t let me off easily. They all warned me about Sofia, but stubborn as I am, I didn’t listen to them. I know they’ll have their fun teasing me about it.
Say You Want Me Page 2
