TAT Box Set

by Emjay Soren

  We make our way inside and I sit down on my recliner and feel the exhaustion set in. “How the fuck am I supposed to just accept who they pick?”

  I say to myself but its Jen who responds.

  “Noah, you make music. You tied yourself to the universe when you signed on. My guess is that they have at the very least an inkling of a clue or they wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Carrie and T are interviewing them tomorrow and I’ll meet my new sponsor at the same dinner I’m dragging you to.”

  I weaseled that in hoping she would go with it….

  “Hell no, you didn't, Noah!” She doesn’t sound happy and I inwardly cringe knowing she is outright uncomfortable with the idea.

  “Jen, hear me out yeah?” I look at her and use the same tone I do Carrie…or anyone when I mean business. I need her to trust me here and for her own reasons Jen doesn’t trust easy. I am lucky she trusts me and now I need to remind her I would never do anything to jeopardize it. “Trust me yeah?”

  “Ugh, yeah okay.”

  I smile for the mere fact I won.

  “You really need to trust me here doll. Understand I am fighting fire with inferno here. Chad, Cal, T and Shame are all in your corner. Same as Sull and Sev, Mike and Roni. Carrie will come around, she is in the dark and it’s a corner I put her in. When Candey died…. “ I choke on the words that are my truth… my conscience. “I couldn’t handle her suffering. I couldn’t watch another second of it. I have held her hand through everything, but with her death came my selfishness full throttle. I was tired of our misery being connected. I wanted to mourn her alone. I didn’t want to see Carrie suffer so I blocked her out. I pulled on Shame because he is strong as fuck and he was the only one who tried to live when he lost Cass. When I got sober I relied on you and Sam. I have blocked her from the most painful parts of my life and I don’t know how to allow her back in.” I look at Jen. “ It’s like I broke us. Because of that I know she will do damn near anything to get our connection back.”

  “Noah, you don’t have a broken connection with Carrie. I don’t know what it was like before so I can't fully comment, however I know you see her every day. You laugh with her, you support her. The connection isn’t broken, you have made a choice to mourn your way. Right or wrong it was what you needed and for whatever reason it worked. Look at where you are today. Whatever the reasons, you tackled it.”

  I smile and shake my head. “You're missing the point.”

  “I get it.” She says and puffs out a sigh of frustration. “I get it. She is so desperate to be in your good graces she will accept me. Manipulate much?”

  “I am the master of manipulation, but I only manipulate what I know someone needs.”

  “How is that fair Noah?”

  I laugh. “Have you met me? I don’t fight fair and I never have. I'll take any cheap shot in a fight that I have to. I am who I am. A self deprecating junkie on a power trip. I manipulate so they do what they truly want to do. Carrie doesn’t hate you Jen, she hates that I trusted you and as fucked up as it sounds, she loves you for it. She hates that I turned to Shame and you and Sully instead of her and that is her cross to bear not yours. You paid your dues, you have eaten their shit long enough. Either you'll be there for me tomorrow or you won't, either way I’ll still be heard.”

  I was sick of the bullshit. All of it. I am sick of feeling guilty for having a friend. I was sick of feeling guilty for trying to find comfort from anyone but Carrie. I was tired of trying to pretend I wasn’t pissed off at her bullshit attitude. She had Chad and the rest of our group holding her up I had to hold me up and I couldn’t stand seeing her suffer. I had seen it enough in our lives that in that moment I could not. I am broken, but for fucks sake if I would have had to hold her up through it all I would have been ruined and they’d have buried me right after Candey.

  “What about Cassa? How you gonna manipulate that one all-knowing Messiah that you are?” I know she is making light of my irritation, but with that question it just had to play itself out.

  “I can't help with Cass, only Cass will decide if she can accept you.” I see the sadness and the flinch from my words and it sucks knowing what I said hurt her. I cup her chin and force her to see me.

  “I can't know the place you were in back then Jen, but I can understand it. I am proud of you everyday even though you lie your ass off in meetings.” I smirk and she laughs through her tears.

  “It helps me. I hate meetings they are definitely not for me like they are for others. Besides I only lie about my sobriety dates.”

  “I’m Jenny Pope and I am an alcoholic. I have been sober three years.” I say it in a mocking tone and she playfully punches my arm.

  “My point is that yeah, you lie in meetings to feel comfort however you need it, but you don’t lie to us when you face it. You were straight with me and Cal and T. You’ll face it with Carrie if you have too. Cassa has a different fight with you and babes, I don’t begrudge her it and neither do you. All you can do is be you, new and improved sober for six months Jenny and accept what is thrown at you and know I got your back.”

  Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece

  You should be rolling with me, you should be rolling with me, ah

  You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy

  But you're moving so carefully; let's start living dangerously

  DNCE ~Cake by the ocean

  Chapter three

  Bright Kellerman

  I walked into the twenty-three story high rise in the heart of LA for the three-on-the-dot appointment I had with the PR manager for the band Thick as Thieves. I knew enough about them, I am more of a top 100 type, my depth is found in coffee house poetry Open Mic nights as opposed to a packed venue reeking of sex drugs and rock and roll.

  Give me some Timberlake or Pink and I am all over a packed venue.

  I had been in recovery for four years and after seeing the strange add in the online forum I was intrigued, but still have no clue what it is I have applied for.

  I took a seat near the front desk of Hessian Aggression records. This place was insane, not your typical fancy pants office. There were gold records all over the walls, rock music playing low on the speakers overhead. I am a barista so it's not like I am offended by the tattoos or dreads or piercings, I am just not prepared to see it in an office.

  The receptionist had more piercings in her face than the three I had in each ear and everyone I saw thus far had tattoos.

  I look at my arm and love the burn that came from this mornings impromptu tattoo. And the seriously hard part of staring for two hours at the eye candy that ran Paradox Ink. Just the look of Jer made me wet. Seeing him though, all that sexy, bad ass, fuck-all-night look of his reminded me that even four years sober, I was always going to fight my need to go back for just a little fun.

  Not the best thought to have before interviewing to be a sponsor.

  Very unheard of, but I guess with high profile addicts like this one needed a better crop than an NA meeting from the street corner.

  Then, like I was mind blown enough, I look up and see Carrie Beckett Blake and another woman with a purple faux hawk and tats everywhere. Both of them are so beautiful I feel so much better about this. I realize that I might actually fit in here better than I thought, I see the name brands on their handbags, know the fashion from Vogue alone, and yeah I would fit.

  I had dressed down, wearing an off the shoulder cream sweater and torn boyfriend jeans, both from Target because there is no place for high maintenance in my line of work. That and knowing I would be dealing with an addict, I didn't think coming in dressed to the nines was appropriate.

  It's not like I judge so freely, I just try to help people.

  I know, total contradiction to the spoiled little rich girl I described.

  “You must be Bright Kellerman?” The woman with purple hair said and I stood to shake her hand.

  “Yes ma’am.” My voice cracked li
ke it always does when I am nervous, and here I stand on a possible interview, I think in front of a famous author no less. I knew very little about the band, but what I did know was courtesy of Mrs. Beckett-Blake because she was married to the lead singer and one hell of a bad ass writer.

  “So nice to meet you Bright. I am Tayla Livingston, I’m the Public Relations Manager for TAT.” She was already shaking my hand and smiling a genuinely kind smile, Carrie was too. It was like the twilight zone how nice they were to a stranger and it was a bright neon flag they were not from LA.

  “Who?” I asked confused. I had a feeling this all got messed up because I had no clue who or what TAT was.

  “Sorry. Thick as Thieves. We all call them TAT.” She laughs a sweet laugh. “Trust me sweetie once you see them you’ll get it.”

  “Noah and Chad both were tattoo artists before becoming big and famous so it’s been an ongoing nickname for years to call them TAT.” Carrie said and held out her hand. “I’m Carrie, Chads wife and Noah’s sister. I honestly am here for shits and giggles so don’t mind me.”

  We all start making our way down a long corridor all lined with more records and framed photos of some of the biggest bands.

  “She’s full of shit, but you’ll learn one thing about Carrie and Noah, nothing happens to one if the other isn’t close by for protection.” Tayla says and holds the door to her office for me as I sneak in, trying to not trip over my feet. I had a sibling I was as protective over once.

  The only wall in the office was the one dividing the office next door, and the one we just closed the door on. Windows lined the other two walls providing a panoramic view of downtown Seattle like I had never seen it before.

  I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz desperate to get back to Kansas. This was not my world. My world was small and how I liked it. My addiction cost me everything and I was glad it had. I was happy to not be the spoiled rich bitch I had been up into my twenties when the real world decided I had fucked up enough. Now I worked hard and kept my nose down. I loved my life and this was not where I wanted it to go.

  I was most definitely in the wrong place.

  Now, the inner bitch that was handed a silver spoon at birth wanted to tell them I was not interested and bail out. The other side of me, the better side that wasn’t entitled or demanding sat in the chair across from the large oak desk and waited to see why on earth they were looking for addiction sponsors.

  I look at the pictures on her desk, a few of them have Tayla in them and clearly she is with clients in them. One of the guys in a few of the pictures must be her husband or something because there are various photos of them together with what look like their son.

  My heart warms toward her immediately because you can see the love in her eyes, it’s a presence in her smile. I vaguely wonder if I will ever find anything like that, but am swiftly reminded of why I belong with no one and never will.

  I have my best friend Raleigh, successful businesses and money to last me three lifetimes. I am somewhat self obsessed with shopping and designer clothes, pretty things. But what I spend on me I give back to my small town of Yorba Linda in any way I can.

  “So I probably have you wondering why we were posting in addiction anonymous forums?” Tayla asked as she leaned back in her chair across from me, Carrie beside me.

  “Can't lie.” I say with nervous laughter. “ I answered the add because I want to help but I didn’t know it was for something like this. I assumed it was someone needing anonymity and nothing more.”

  Carrie and Tayla both share a knowing look to one another before looking at me. “Do you know who my brother is Bright?” Carrie asks as she twists the lid off a smart water.

  “I feel like this is a trick question.” I say and tuck my long hair behind my ear waiting for the punch line that doesn’t come, realizing that I am bombing this interview. Recovering addicts aren’t interviewed for sponsorship because most of us hate being judged or on display and this feels like an interview.

  “Noah is the bass guitarist for Thick as Thieves. He has a file bigger than the bible and he’s been in the press more than his fair share these last few years.” Tayla hands me the file that is as thick as she said and hands it to me. “Every fact based article about him is in that file. News clips as well in the email I am sending you in a few minutes. He is a recovering heroin addict and about to go on tour for the first time since getting completely clean. Hessian Aggression records has demanded that he have a sponsor with him at all times unless he is on stage or in the bathroom." She holds up a hand, seeing I was about to protest. "Yes, they mean it.”

  I really didn’t know how to follow that. Part of me was offended by the bullshit demand by the record label but also by the way they weren’t letting him pick his own sponsor.

  “There is a trust between sponsor and addict that you can't find in any interview Miss Livingston. It’s wildly inappropriate for you to interview a sponsor.” I couldn’t believe the ego on rich people, something I could openly comment on since I was just as crummy to people and saw them as disposable playthings once. Until I learned the hard way how valuable life is.

  “Miss Kellerman, it is bullshit, I know it; so does Tay. The label is adamant however, and they won't budge. Noah tried telling them that I would be there as well as his oldest and dearest friend Sam. The label thinks that Noah has poor judgment, which is also bullshit. My brother is an addict, I won’t deny it. What he isn’t, is how they are painting him. He needs a sponsor, he does, I don’t deny that either, but Tayla has been tasked with finding the right fit for an impossible man. That’s why I am here.”

  “Are you close?” I ask and take the smart water Tayla is handing me.

  Tayla and Carrie both laugh at my question, but it wasn’t so much bitchy as it was actually funny to them.

  “Carrie and Noah are very close, split from the same cloth. There is no other soul on this planet Noah trusts implicitly outside of Carrie. They have a language that is all theirs and its one you'll learn in time, but for now I really need you to have an open mind about this. I have had twenty fan obsessed, not so sure they were sober sponsors in here today and you are a breath of fresh air in comparison.”

  I try to take in what they are both saying and I just keep drinking from the water bottle buying myself time, not sure how to tell them about my addiction. I twist the cap back on and take a deep breath… “My addiction wasn’t of any substance.”

  I shit you not they both looked at me like I spoke a different language. A strange mixture of hope and defeat all at once in their stares. “What?” Carrie asks, a sharp bite in her tone and I know she thinks I am some obsessed fan about to go crazy on her so I hurry and explain.

  “My addiction isn’t substance based. It is all about the flesh. I am a sex addict and I have been celibate for almost four years now.”

  I take a deep breath and wait for her to ask me to leave, nicely of course because they are both sweet as pie, what she says though… I was not prepared for.

  “What do you mean perfect?” I ask and set the bottle on the floor beside my purse.

  “I mean that’s perfect. Jesus I was so scared that it could go south if we got the wrong sponsor with images of you both using together. This is perfect though. It will help Noah stay out of any sticky situation with fangirls and the bad rep fans.”

  “What is a fangirl?” I ask and, ok yes I knew it was most likely a crazy fan.

  “Oh, they are the whores.” Carrie says as if she were discussing the weather.

  I can't help but laugh. In another life I would have hated them for everything they stood for. I would have said to let the junkie suffer. Today though, today I could see myself friends with these women. It didn’t change the fact that there was no way I would be responsible for a heroin addict only six months clean.

  “Well?” Tayla says and looks at me with such hope I felt bad knowing I was bursting her bubble.

  “I cant.” I look at Carrie, seeing the sadness in
her eyes instantly. “I am so sorry Mrs. Blake, but I know nothing about heroin or the draw to it, or the lasting effects. I have no way to relate to that sort of addiction. I was raised in a very wealthy very prominent home where I was ignored and raised by staff not my parents. I rebelled by throwing parties and drinking a little too much but not enough to become addicted. Just enough to start sleeping around when I was thirteen, and I didn’t stop until I was twenty-two. I am twenty-six now and have severed every tie to that life. There is nothing in my experience with addiction that qualifies me to help him.”

  “You are qualified though-“ Carrie started and I immediately shook my head and bent to get my purse when she continued, even louder and grasped at my arm, in desperation? I don’t know, but it stopped me and I knew I had to hear her out. “Noah is not your average drug addict Bright. He is one of the most self assessing human beings I have ever met. He makes no excuses for his behavior or his addiction even though, God knows he has them. A quick run through of his life? Our dad was mentally and physically abusive and one of the worst cases documented in Washington State history. Noah and I escaped after our dad passed out and ran to a little town called Gig Harbor in Washington where our Aunt and Uncle lived. He was seventeen, I was fourteen and we had fifty dollars between us. Once there he apprenticed in a tattoo shop and within six months he had rented the apartment above the shop for us both until he could a bigger place for us. He fed me, clothed me and became both my mother and father. He saved my life in so many ways, ways I can't get into or we will be here all day. He had trust issues before he was an adult, but now he is terrified of letting anyone in. He recently lost his fiancée in a car accident in which he was the driver and almost died in himself. That sent him over the edge and it was Cal, the lead guitarist and Tayla’s fiancée that pulled him free. He needs to not have a commonality with his sponsor, he simply needs you to understand the uncontrollable draw, which you do. “