DARE: A Rock Star Hero

by Scott, S. L.

  He shrugs as he gets into his car. “It pays, dude. Today, it paid well.” He hightails it down the street.

  I go inside and open it. Helen stands beside me reading it. “Protection order?” Her voice pitches. “Who’s Weatherly Beck?”

  “No fucking way,” Lennox says, joining my other side to read it.

  I’m too numb to voice an opinion.

  Lennox says, “You know she didn’t file this, Dare. You know that, right?”

  My throat is thick, closing in on me. My chest hurts in a similar way when I found out my mom was sick.

  I hand the papers to Helen and walk to the sliding glass door, staring out at the blue skies that don’t match my mood. “I hate you with all my being, Dare Marquis.” Yet she came back . . . “There’s no music, but our song is always playing inside here. Dance with me, Dare.” I’d wanted to dance with her all night, to hold her in my arms forever.

  Now there’s a legal reason for me to stay away, not just emotional.

  Helen says, “Fifty feet, Robert.”

  “What?” I turn around with my arms crossed over my chest.

  “You can’t be within fifty feet of her for six weeks and then the case will be reevaluated.”

  Lennox flips out. “That’s ridiculous. He didn’t do anything to her.”

  “I hurt her, and they hold all the power.”

  “If you hurt her so badly, why’d she bail us out?”

  Rubbing my temples, I tense my lips. “I don’t know, man.” I want to be upset, but for some reason, none of this surprises me. This is how the rich win. “It’s not going to look good to have this against me in court.”

  Helen comes and hugs me. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s take things one step at a time. Why were you arrested?”

  Lennox starts talking, knowing I need the break. They sit on the big couch, so I kick back on the smaller one, putting my feet on the table. He explains my side and then what happened at Shep’s, and I let him. I feel too messed up in my head to reason through any of this, especially Weatherly.

  Add the restraining order and there are a whole lot of what the fucks filling my brain. I plug my phone into the charger on the side table and rest my head back. Long stories are long and short stories are long when it comes to Lennox and Helen Rey. It’s something I’ve always appreciated and hated. Today, I appreciate it.

  Despite the frustration and anger built up in my bones from the past twenty-four hours, my body betrays me by my eyelids growing heavy. Soon their voices begin to fade.

  The squeal of front door hinges and exchanged whispers between Romeo and Stascia wake me. I sit up slowly, my body aching in revolt. If I wasn’t stiff, I’d be impressed that I didn’t even manage to actually lie down on the couch. Just fell asleep how I sat.

  I’m still dead tired, but the day is passing, and I haven’t had a moment to myself to think, or do anything else. Grabbing my phone, I see two hours have passed, and there are no messages other than from Helen early this morning while we were in jail. “Whatever,” I say as if it makes up for not hearing from Weatherly.

  But then I remember the restraining order. “Eh, fuck.”

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. I don’t normally drink coffee at five at night, but since I’m basically starting my day, I indulge. Like Lennox who’s just made himself a cup. He stirs his coffee and looks up when I ramble in. “We should probably leave soon. Bathroom’s open.”

  Seeing him reminds me of Helen and disappointment tugs my shoulders down some. “How’s your mom?”

  “I talked to her. She’s not happy about the situation. Not upset at us, but on our behalf. She left to take her anger out on some pasta. You know how cooking is like therapy for her.”

  After getting a mug, I take the coffee carafe and fill it. “A healthier way to burn through anger than getting arrested, that’s for sure. I’ll take a shower before everyone else is fighting for it.”

  “They’re ready.” He sets the spoon in the sink and looks up at me. “Today is important to all of us. We just figured you could use the extra sleep.”

  I pause for a second, letting their gesture, their support sink in. “Thanks.”

  I’m glad to have this family. We may not be perfect, but after what I’ve witnessed from the rich and famous across town, I’d pick them any day. Not that I’ll tell them that. They have egos and shit, and I’m in no mood for that. Just past the bar, I add, “For the coffee, too.”

  “Yep.”

  I head for the shower to clean off jail, not going to sugarcoat where I spent the night. Thirty minutes later, we’re out the door. We cruise through downtown to pick up the truck, and I jump out to stop into Shep’s. The bar is open, but the crowd is sparse.

  “Bad night,” Jake says, rolling a keg toward the bar. I help him, and we carry it over instead.

  “I’ve had better.”

  Chuckling, he says, “I bet. I have your equipment.”

  I follow him to the back room. “If you pull the truck around to the alley, you can load it out the back door.”

  “Thanks.” After texting the guys, I step into the room and seek out my broken guitar.

  Jake hangs around. “What was the arrest about?”

  “Assholes running the world.”

  “Yeah.” I hear him kicking his heel against the cement floor. “He hung around and asked for a drink.” Just as I find the case, I look up at him. He says, “I told him we don’t serve his kind.”

  “What kind is that?”

  “Dickheads. There’s even a sign posted at the entrance by Jeb.”

  We laugh, and although the night and today are hanging in my heart, it feels good to release some of the heaviness. “He’s a lawyer, so that probably didn’t go over well.”

  “Let him sue me. When he tries to ruin my business by having the band arrested mid-set, I don’t give much of a fuck if he needs a drink. I had other shit to deal with.”

  I return to shake his hand. “Thanks for being a friend over these years. The band appreciates all you’ve done for us.”

  “You filled my bar every Thursday for the last year, and any other time I booked you, like last night. Thank you. But when you make it big, don’t forget the small guys. I want one performance on that stage out there, and we’ll call it even.”

  “That’s a deal. Speaking of deals, I was wondering if we can get paid today?”

  “Well shit, Dare, you guys didn’t finish your set.”

  “Not for lack of trying.”

  Hitting my arm before he turns to leave, he says, “I’m kidding. Best show in town last night. I’ll even pay you the full wage. I can’t have you missing Thursday because you have a broken guitar.” He pulls an envelope from his back pocket. “I had a feeling you’d stop by.”

  I tuck the money into my back pocket and shake his hand again. “I appreciate that.”

  Walking away, he calls back, “You still have an unpaid tab.”

  I laugh. “How many drinks do I have bought and paid for back there?”

  “Five last night.”

  “Maybe we should call it even as well.”

  “Probably the only way it’ll ever get paid, so I guess we’ll call even.”

  I’m still laughing when I lift the latches to my case. It wasn’t an expensive guitar, but it was the first I ever bought. Guess I’m feeling a little sentimental.

  She served me well, but with a broken neck and a crack to the body, she’s played her last show. Running my hand over the strings one last time, I give her a squeeze and then return it to the case.

  They honk the horn out back, and English and Romeo walk in the propped open door. “How’s the guitar?” Romeo asks.

  “Busted. Jake paid full wage. I’m not trying to bust you upside the head with this, but I need a plan if we’re not missing another gig.”

  “What is it?” English asks.

  “Can I borrow a little extra to buy another one?”

  Romeo grabs two of his d
rum cases by the handles. “I don’t have a problem with that. We got paid in full, and your girl bailed us out, so I can’t complain.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about those words coming so easy. Bail and my girl. I’m at a loss for both. As much as I want to see her, to hear her voice again, I need a minute to clear my head from the muddied waters of last night. There’s only one place that can help, and we’re heading there right after we get this damn truck loaded.

  English stacks two amps and carries them to the door. “No problem here.”

  Lennox won’t mind, but when I tell him, he agrees without a second thought. I pat his arm before going back in to finish loading up. “Thanks, Len.”

  Before we pull away, Jake comes up to my side of the truck. “Hey.” He holds up a business card. I crank down the window, and he adds, “This guy was here last night. Saw the whole thing go down and asked me to give this to you.” I take the card. “You should call him. I’ve already checked him out. He’s legit.”

  “Thanks.” I flip it around to read it.

  After pumping the gas and using his magic on this beat-up jalopy, Lennox asks, “Who’s the card from?”

  “Some guy named Tommy from Outlaw Records.”

  “Outlaw?” He slams on the brakes and stares at me. “Outlaw Records? That’s Johnny Outlaw’s record company.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re right.”

  “Wonder what they want?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” I put the card in the tray between us on the floor. “To the park.”

  “Yeah.”

  After a quick stop by the store, we arrive at a small park near an art installation of an abstract heart sculpture.

  Helen greets us and gives me a big hug. “I miss her everyday.”

  “Me too.”

  She takes a look at me, doting on me like I’m one of her own. My hair is pushed away from my eyes, the knot of my tie I put on in the truck straightened, and a kind smile is given as she takes a good long look at me. “She was a beautiful woman inside and out.”

  “Beauty attracts the eye, but the soul captures the heart.” No one embodied those words more than my mom did. Until I met Weatherly.

  Kneeling, I touch the brass plaque that’s aged to greens and rusty, a muted shine still fights to catch the evening light. I run my fingers over each letter of her name—Laura Grace Marquis.

  My mom’s remains have long been scattered among the places she loved most—the beach where the turtles come ashore, the brick wall that surrounds Weatherly’s house, and here where her name remains a symbol that she walked this earth. She was an angel among us but still resides inside me in a million memories.

  To have her name added to the marble wall at the base of this sculpture would have tickled her. She forever lives as a part of the art she adored.

  I miss her. I miss her voice, her laughter, her unconditional love. I just miss her so much.

  But with all that’s happened over the past few weeks, the mere thought of Weatherly’s house has me dedicating more time to the other woman in my life. I still haven’t had a minute to process the fact that we met when we were so young. My mom would have told me destiny brought us together fourteen years ago, but that’s not a belief I ever subscribed to. Do I now? Did fate play her hand when it comes to me?

  If it did, then it was cruel to rip it away so quickly.

  Weatherly has turned me into a believer, but we have a big mess to clean up, if it even can be. She fell just as hard as I did, and we landed at each other’s feet.

  I made a mistake by pushing her away. I knew it then, but I fell for all the bullshit being spewed about her life being better without me. If my gut is right, her life is better with me, just as mine is with her.

  Wanting a second chance is one thing, but how do I get around the legal proceedings? How do I overcome a restraining order to even talk to her?

  The answer is right behind me.

  Fifty feet to be exact.

  35

  Dare

  Weatherly.

  Pepper.

  Babe.

  Girlfriend.

  She’s gone by a lot of names, but today, she’s here without a defining name. Maybe friend fits. I’m not sure. She makes me unsteady in my normally straightforward life. I don’t know what that means, or anything else these days. My world is so turned around that it’s inside out. A lot like my heart.

  She stands as close as she can, and I take that to mean she had no part in the fuckery in her life that pushed this order through. I know fucked-up situations all too well. I survived them. I’m used to being betrayed by the system. My mom went to the police, social services, and anyone else she could beg for help. No one came through for us.

  I was too young to be in the know about the details, but when we left my dad, he was too self-centered to know it was for good and smart enough to stay away. As the sun heads toward seven o’clock, it’s still broad daylight and easy to see the tear streaks staining Weatherly’s cheeks, confirming the injustice of the life she’s currently trapped in the middle of.

  Helen rubs my back. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “Yes.” She starts walking, but I ask, “What are you going to talk about?”

  Smiling, she says, “I’m sure there’s plenty to say.”

  Romeo, English, and Lennox stand nearby—my brothers, my band, my best friends—the quietest they’ve ever been in contrast to their usual rowdiness. “Should I be worried?” I ask.

  English laughs. “Can’t get worse.”

  We stand around watching the conversation from fifty feet away. Weatherly breaks down, her face hidden in her hands as sobs wrack her small frame. Helen wraps her arms around her and embraces her. I know the feeling of those arms holding you when you feel your loneliest, the most pained.

  From this distance, I can see Helen wipes the tears from Weatherly’s face and then give her that reassuring smile that everything will be okay.

  Will it? I like to believe we will, but I don’t know. With fifty feet dividing us, it’s feeling damn near impossible. This is something love can’t fix. I’ll end up in jail if I cross that line.

  When Helen returns, she says, “Are you ready to go?”

  I glance at Weatherly as she looks back one last time before getting in her car and leaving. “What did she say?”

  “What do you believe?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Okay,” Helen says, tapping her chin. “What about . . . Do you love her?”

  “Uh.” I shift back, not expecting that, but the discomfort of the situation follows me. Distraction is the best remedy. I need to distract myself from facing the truth or having to say it out loud. I run my fingers along the edge of the sleek sculpture. “Um.”

  Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I try to let some air in. The heat has finally hit me, and I’m starting to sweat. She fills in the answer for me. “So that would be a yes. She loves you, too.”

  Surprise rips through me, and I whip around. “Did she say that?”

  “She didn’t have to. She’s here because you invited her. She showed up for you. It’s time to show up for her.”

  “She filed a restraining order against me.”

  Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “You know she didn’t.”

  “I don’t know shit except what that piece of paper I was served says.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Rob. I know things appear insurmountable right now, but love finds a way.”

  “If I don’t find myself in jail first.”

  “She wanted me to tell you she’s sorry. She’s working to get the charges and the order dropped, but these things take time and a certain finesse.”

  Fucking great. Another reason for her to have to deal with that asshole who had us arrested. He should have the restraining order against him. He’s the one who struck my girl. Fuck. She shouldn’t have to do this.

  “She’s a very clever young woman. I’m sure she’ll figure a way
out.” Helen walks to the plaque, and says, “Happy Birthday, Laura.” The tips of her fingers linger as she closes her eyes and whispers something I can’t hear.

  When she walks away, she goes to her son and hugs him. Lennox holds his mom and then hangs back while she, Romeo, and English head to the car. Stepping closer to the marble base, he kisses his hand before placing it on the brass name. “Happy Birthday, Laura. Miss you.”

  He leaves, giving me a few moments of solitude with her. I visit. Not as often as I should, but there’s something about this day that makes me feel grateful for the blessings I’ve been given. Even though she was taken away too soon.

  I sit in front of the sculpture. It takes me a minute to warm up to the marble and talk about things.

  My hand lingers on the plaque. “Happy Birthday, Mom.”

  I’ve always felt she was experiencing my life with me, so maybe she already knows. “I love her, Mom. There’s nothing rational about us and nothing that makes sense about our lives coming together, except one. Love. But is it the right time? Maybe we weren’t meant to meet yet. The band is doing well, so should I put all my energy into that dream, my heart be damned? Tell me. That seems like the only true impossibility. I walked away, but I don’t think I can forever. Let me know if I’m fucking up by harboring feelings when the world is conspiring against us.”

  I have a feeling it’s worse to deny my feelings than to live with the consequences of fighting for someone you love. I stand, knowing I have already been given an answer. My mom was looking out for me fourteen years ago when she insisted on taking that picture.

  “Maybe the question isn’t if it’s a good time, but accepting that love arrived right on time. Right when I needed it most.” I grin and touch the plaque once more. “Thanks, Mom. You always did know best.”

  When I get in the truck, Lennox asks, “You ready?”

  “I am.”

  * * *

  I thought it would be a quiet dinner. With so much on our minds, hanging over our heads, and the unknown ahead, dinner at Helen’s is still entertaining. I’m glad. Mom would have liked this—the jokes, the laughter, Helen’s famous piña colada cake.