by P G Loiselle
Before we left, we each gulped down some Snapple and finished off the bottle. It was the best tasting liquid that ever rolled down my esophagus, even better than a Friday night Budweiser at The Corner.
The first thing we did back at camp was to rustle up some bologna sandwiches to ease our hunger. Although lighting the campfire wasn’t difficult considering that the tinder was dry and the logs were plentiful, it’d be a while before we could grill the burgers. We first had to stoke the fire to create enough smoldering coals. If we tried to cook directly over the open flame, the meat would end up burnt on the outside, raw in the middle and overly smoky. There were a couple of simple pans to grill on, and we built a primitive table outside using some boards that were lying around. Finally, I poured us all a Jack Daniels and Coke signaling that we could relax.
During preparation as well as throughout the meal itself, we remained subdued. Considering all that happened within the previous twenty-four hours, one would think there’d be plenty to say and be thankful for. Instead, it was a somber occasion…until the alcohol started to hit. I stopped at three drinks, Amy at four and Stevie didn’t stop. The more the drink flowed, the more blame was being thrown, and the uglier it got. I might have been the catalyst of the feud, but Stevie topped it off. We were sitting quiet for far too long, and I needed to clear the air.
“It wasn’t my fault,” I said.
“What wasn’t your fault?” Amy asked.
“I assume that Stevie told you about me not coming home straight away.” I kept my eyes on Amy as if Stevie wasn’t there.
“He said you stayed behind to hump some dirty hoe-bag that you tongued onstage and got so blown out on liquor that you never made it home on time.”
“What’d you tell her?” I said raising my voice.
“That’s not what I said.”
“What’d you say then?”
“That you stayed behind to score that Ashley White girl you kissed onstage, and you were wasted and didn’t make it home.” He sniggered. “Is any of that a lie?”
“Not a lie but not exactly the truth. Yes, I was tanked-up earlier in the evening. By the time the show was over, I was relatively sober. And by the way, I didn’t stay behind to score her. I wanted to get acquainted so we could meet when I came back from the tour that didn’t happen. And yes, it’s true that I didn’t make it home. I was frickin’ drugged, alright.” I was getting loud, and angry. “They slipped something in my drink and locked me up in some old building.” I took a sip of pure Coke. “Did you even ask me what happened? Do you even care?”
Stevie sneered at me, full of scorn, as he knocked back a mouthful of Jack straight out of the bottle.
“Shit, you went and quit on me,” I said. “Caused the whole band to break up. Now I got to patch it back together.”
Stevie shot back, fighting to get his words out. “You caused it, the break up, Luke. I told you. I said come home. You insisted. We’d be on stage right now, in New York frickin’ City, if it wasn’t for you.”
“Probably,” I said. “It’s a damn good thing we didn’t go. Where would Amy be right now? The bottom of the Blackstone?” I paused and let him ponder that thought before pointing my finger at him. “Maybe if you could have restrained yourself with the walkie talkie, they wouldn’t have found her. You were probably gloating over her every single day, calling her constantly, getting all mushy. Until Herbie caught on.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Amy said.
“No, what was it like then?” I said and not waiting for an answer, turned back to Stevie. I wasn’t done with him. “Tell me something and be honest. You had that walkie talkie when you were at my house. Did you take it with you everywhere you went? And use it all the time?”
“Maybe,” he said. His guilty look told all. He took a couple more nips from the bottle.
“And after I caught you sneaking over the trestle for the second time to visit her,” I said, ready to lay into him some more, “did you do it again?”
“Possible,” he said, sipping more of the brown liquid.
“You have no idea how lonely I was, Luke,” Amy said, trying to rationalize his actions. “I was held up for weeks on end and probably would have hung myself if Stevie hadn’t been there for me. It’s not that you never showed up. Just, well, not as much.”
“Truthfully, Amy, I would have gone every day, but with each trip, I was taking a risk of us all getting caught. That wasn’t the goal, was it? Besides, a lot of times I did go, Stevie was already there. I didn’t feel welcome, more like a third wheel.”
“You want to start that jealous crap again, you bastard?” she said, squinting her eyes at me.
“I’m not even jealous,” I said. “So don’t get your little panties in an uproar.”
Amy was constantly degrading everyone else and now seemed appalled when I gave her a little of her own medicine.
Stevie stood up and attempted to talk in a smattering of incoherent, speech-like noises. I could kind of make out a couple of phrases like “big boss”, “show off”, and “asshole” but didn’t know exactly what message he was trying to convey. When he was done, he stumbled over to the hut, fighting to get the door to open, and once successful, fell right into the entrance way. There was quite the commotion going on inside, and eventually, the racket died down, replaced by the loudest snoring ever. I walked over to where the bottle was and picked it up.
“Empty,” I said. “He killed it.”
“No wonder,” Amy replied. “We’re all on the brink of losing it, and you didn’t make it better. We’ve been through a lot, Luke. He needs to kill the pain. That’s all. So, stop with the accusations.”
“Amy, look,” I said, calming down. “He was careless. You both were careless, and that’s why you got found out.”
“You weren’t exactly Mr. Perfect,” she said.
“No, I wasn’t. At least I was there for you when you needed me. Speaking of being there for you, what about your cousin? I thought he was supposed to look after you while we were on tour?”
“I guess you did think that, didn’t you?” she said. “To tell you the truth, I lied.”
I didn’t expect much from her but assumed I could trust her. I felt let down, betrayed really, and it must have shown.
“It was for you,” she said, pleading with me. “I swear. I knew deep in my heart you wouldn’t go on tour with Aerosmith if I didn’t lie. I couldn’t do that to you. That was the biggest chance you could have, and I didn’t want to be the one to destroy your dreams.”
“You lied to me, Amy? How could you have? Why didn’t you just talk to me about it? I never really bought the excuse of not wanting your cousin involved because he’s a bigwig. There could have been a different solution. Maybe there was someone else you could have stayed with? Or we could have gotten you a bodyguard and hid you out somewhere safer. It’s not like we don’t have money.”
“I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Susanne, the office manager brought me groceries every week. She’s been super nice to me, even visits once in a while. I thought I’d be fine there.”
“Are you kidding me? Visits from the office manager? How come nobody told me that?”
“There you go again,” she said, “thinking you’re the boss. It’s not something you even need to know. Besides, she’s on our side. Ask Michael. The rest of the workers aren’t stupid either. They know I’m in the apartment for a while now. Michael told them I was a poor old lady, a family friend down on her luck. It’s certainly plausible for the person who manages the office to help me out. She backs up Michael’s story too, tells them the same crap.”
“So, why didn’t anyone mention that to me, even if you weren’t looking for my approval?”
“We thought you’d freak. Probably try to make me leave…to Idaho or Montana or somewhere stupid like that.”
“You didn’t trust me,
” I said.
“Nobody trusted you,” she said.
“Who else in the band knew? Dale? Tommy?”
“Everyone. Everyone except you.”
“Amy.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s working.”
“What’s working?”
“Stone’s been trying to tear us apart, and it’s working.”
“Guess it is,” was all that Amy could muster, as if she was giving up.
I expected her to tell me that we needed to stick together and keep our eyes on the prize and that sort of malarkey. Instead, she agreed with me.
We stayed out at the campfire for another half hour before calling it quits. Neither of us had much to say. Amy ducked inside our sleep cell first, holding up the light, and I followed. Stevie was sprawled out on one of the two beds, snoring like a buzz saw.
“Mind if we share the other bed?” she asked. “Or do you want to sleep in the bed with Stevie? I’m not getting in there with him.”
“Sure, we can share a bed.”
I took one of the sleeping bags and laid it over Stevie. After opening a window to air out the place, I crawled into bed with Amy. She was perfectly still and must have pressed herself tight to the wall so there wouldn’t be any contact with me. She didn’t bother to say goodnight, and I didn’t either. I felt tiny and alone. My limbs were like sticks and my flesh foreign, cold like fish skin. It didn’t take long before I was gone to the world.
I woke to Amy’s frantic screams and was about to come out swinging when I realized what she was screaming about. There was Stevie, standing on the edge of our bed, at the foot, pants down, shlong in hand. A healthy stream of warm piss was raining down on us while Stevie, whipping his wiener back and forth, swayed and cackled like a lunatic.
Amy continued shrieking.
“Stevie, Stevie, what do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.
“Don’t worry about it, Luke,” he said, slurring his words so they were barely audible. Again, he broke out in mad laughter.
Both Amy and I took shelter from the steaming pee by hiding under the sleeping bags. I thought about getting up out of the bed but was afraid he’d piss right on me, and I didn’t have any extra clothes to change into.
“Amy, I’m going to kick him off the bed”
“Don’t you frickin’ dare. He’s sleep-walking and could hurt himself.”
“Sleep walking? He’s sleep-pissing for crying out loud. And he’s pissing on us.”
I put up my legs and nudged him at his shins off the edge. He fell hard to the floor. Both Amy and I jumped up out of the bed. Amy turned on the flashlight and ran over to him. He was laying on the ground, stunned. He still had a big silly grin stuck to his mug. There were a couple of minor scrapes and gashes yet little blood and by the looks of him, he couldn’t have been hurt too badly.
“You selfish little prick,” Amy said to me, screeching. “I told you not to touch him. Stevie’s right. It’s all about you, you, you.”
“What’d you want me to do? He was pissing on us.”
“You can piss, piss off, I mean. Get your frickin’ face out of my sight. You could have killed him, you, you rotten excuse of a friend.”
“Amy, be reasonable,” I said, imploring her.
“Just go. Go. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.”
I left the cabin, head down and at first stayed at the site, hovering around the afterglow of the dying fire. What was I waiting for? The trust along with the bond holding us together was shattered. Were we supposed to say sorry in the morning, and things would be back to normal? That wasn’t going to happen. Everyone went too far. The only way out for me at that point was to get even further away. I needed to distance myself from the situation and from the personas provocateurs, be it friend or foe alike.
The only place I had to escape to was home, my mother ship, my realm and mine alone. That’s what I hoped anyway. Stone’s men could be there, waiting for me to show up. It’s a chance I had to take. For all they know, I wasn’t even part of the great escape. The last they saw of me was in Providence, on Atwells Ave., in an old dilapidated brick mill building used by musicians, artists and shady wheelers and dealers. And after my escape, I didn’t talk to them on the walkie talkie, and they couldn’t recognize me on the motorcycle with the helmet covering my head. It’s very plausible for them to think that I was still out of the picture at that point and had nothing to do with the getaway. I decided to take the chance and set off towards Cumberland.
The walk wasn’t very long, but it was dead of night, and it felt like I was moving through a venerable ghost town. Occasionally, a car would approach, and I’d hide behind some shrubs or other objects to stay undercover. Upon arrival, I slipped in the back in case they were waiting to trap me at the front door. I moved cautiously about the place and checked every room. The house was empty. I headed for my bedroom, stripped down to my briefs and got under the covers. I still felt odd, like a stranger in my own skin, but was at least comfortable. After several hours of lying there awake, not being able to prevent my mind from racing out of control, the only way I knew of keeping my sanity was to start writing. It’s noontime now, and I’m finally ready to sleep. I have no choice.
Tuesday, August 18, 1987
The afternoon sunlight peeked around the edges of the bedroom shades, rousing me out of my slumber. Disoriented, I got up to relieve myself and crawled back to the perfect warmth still captured under the blankets. Curled up and purring, it was almost as if the setbacks plaguing me were only part of a bad dream, and I was back to normal living. It didn’t take long, however, for my mood to divebomb once reality ambushed me. My relationships with the ones I love most in the world were in shambles, we were still in mortal danger, and the prospects of making it big as a musician seemed bleak.
I put the covers over my head, praying for these troubles to simply vanish. I knew that prayer alone wouldn’t help. I had to act, and the top priority was to make sure Amy and Stevie were safe. Right when I finished getting dressed, the doorbell rang. I glimpsed out from behind the curtains. It was Mike, planted on my front steps, antsy as hell. His head moved erratically, this way and that way, and his brow looked strained, as if he was cramped up with gas.
“What’s going on, buddy? Come on in.” I tried to pull him inside. He wouldn’t budge.
“I need to see if my keyboard pedal’s in the garage.”
“In the garage?” I asked, perplexed, knowing there was nothing from Mike in there.
“In the garage,” he said and indicated with his eyes for me to follow.
“Let’s check.”
He led us through the side door; I closed it behind us.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “They might be spying on us. Amy’s with Stevie, hiding out in a cottage, on some pond or lake north of here, Uncle Rick’s summer house near the Connecticut line.
“How’d they end up there?”
“Dale found them at the cabin, Stevie puking his guts out and Amy a major mess. You were gone, of course.”
“Long story, Mike. Amy kicked me out.”
“I’m not judging you, Luke, just saying. Anyway, Dale had a fit and knew he had to get them out of there. Once Stevie was ready, he took them straight to Uncle Rick’s place.”
“Whew,” I said, expelling a blast of air. “Thank god they’re ok,”.
“For now. You saw how easy it was for them to find Amy.” He looked back, and on both sides, like he was making sure nobody else was there. “I retrieved the dirt bike too. Had my guys drop it off on that street behind your house. You might need it.”
“Appreciate it, pal,” I said, happy at the gesture yet still feeling downtrodden. “By the way, what happened with you at the mills?”
“Talk about turmoil. I wanted to drive to the warehouse entrance, but there was a major traffic jam. I’d
never seen it so full: cars, trucks, all kinds of vehicles. Couldn’t have only been Stone’s guys. Must have been something else going on, and it might have clashed with Stone’s plans.”
“What’d you do?”
“Called Dale, from another shop in the mills. He came straight away. We took different routes to find you three. You must have already gotten out there. Had a couple of minor run-ins, or I should say drive-ins with Stone’s men. I doubt they realized who we were. Probably thought we were part of whatever else was going on there. I tell you, it was mayhem.”
“What was Dale driving?”
He looked at me as if my question was dumb. “His chopper,” he answered.
“Not a black Mustang with tinted windows?”
“I’d know if he was driving a black Mustang.”
“Who could it have been then?” I said under my breath. “And what about the money? Dale say anything?”
“Amy insisted on keeping it with her. She can be so stubborn sometimes,” he said.
“You don’t need to tell me that,” I said. “So, what now? Meet up at Uncle Rick’s cottage and figure out a game plan?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
I stared at him, confused by the way he said it. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, stretching the one syllable word. “Amy wanted you to know they were safe but also said you should stay away for a while. They’d handle Stone by themselves.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and his vision fell to his own shoes before looking back up. “I’m sorry, Luke.”
“Handle it themselves? Stay away for a while?” It felt as if Mohamed Ali had sucker-punched me right in the kidney. I looked Mike square in the eyes. “How long?”
“For now,” Mike said. “That’s all.”
“Forget about it. I need to talk sense into her,” I said. “And into Stevie. They can’t possibly go it alone. Impossible.” I was all worked up, still in shock from being ousted by the only family I had.
