I’d been sitting in my hotel room since early morning writing songs for the new album. I wanted to finally finish the song I’d started writing a long time ago in Amsterdam, but I just can’t seem to get it right. It’s such an emotional song, kind of like my outlet when I get too stressed. I don’t keep a journal but whenever I need to vent, out comes this song.
“Aiden, are you busy?” Delilah timidly walked into the living room.
“Not really.”
“Sara’s here,” she told me. “We’re about to order some room service and have lunch. Do you want something?”
“Yeah, order me a burger or something. I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Are you okay, Aiden?” Delilah sounded worried.
I simply nodded my head. I haven’t spoken to either of my sisters about what happened the other night, mainly because it will only upset them. Besides, how does a brother tell his sisters that their father hates him?
Like a thousand bee stings in my chest, the hurt I feel over that revelation is real. My dad has always been harder on me but I just assumed it was because I’m his only son. Of course, he’d shelter and spoil his daughters. He’s never been completely on board with my decision to become a musician either and I don’t recall us ever having a wonderful relationship once I became a teenager, but still...
My father hates me.
A few minutes after Delilah left the room, I closed my notebook and tossed it on the table. Writing is useless here. I’m so glad to be leaving Chicago tomorrow. If Sara didn’t live here, I’d never come back. I refuse to cut her and my mother out of my life but my father is dead to me.
When I walked into Delilah’s suite, my sisters were sitting on the couch looking at wedding websites on Delilah’s laptop. They both were smiling and it made me happy and sad at the same time. I love having my little sister around, where I can keep tabs on her. That’s going to come to an end pretty soon. Sara has Tahir and now Delilah has Paulie. My sisters don’t need me anymore.
Does anyone need me anymore?
“Food’s on the way,” Delilah announced, looking up. “I ordered you a cheeseburger and fries.”
“Thanks.” I tried to keep the sadness out of my voice and failed.
“What’s wrong?” Sara asked.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that,” she replied. “You look like your dog died. What’s up?”
“I’m okay,” I answered. “What are you looking at?”
“Wedding stuff,” Delilah answered. “I figured that we better start planning right away because you’ll be done with your album soon and I’ll be super busy, so I’ll have to rely on Sara and Mom to put this thing together.”
“I thought you and Paulie were just talking. Has he actually asked and given you a ring?”
“Not officially. He’s getting the ring designed. Since we never know when I’ll be able to get back here, we figured we’d just let everyone know on this trip.”
“Yeah, Aiden,” Sara smiled. “You keep our little sister on a very short leash. You’re always so busy which means she’s so busy. And I miss you guys, damn it!”
“You can come out to California anytime you want,” I reminded her. “Besides, I think I’ll take a break after this album comes out.”
Both of my sisters laughed.
“That’s not going to happen,” Delilah answered. “I thought you considered your recovery to be your break.”
“That’s wasn’t a break. That was recovery. I was still working, for the most part.”
“Well, I can see how you need a break from all of that stuff,” Sara said. “The divorce and all that bull that went along with it. Plus everyone is always in your business. I hear people talking about you all of the time. It’s crazy.”
“Well, at least they’re talking,” Delilah stated. “It’s when they stop talking that is the problem.”
Sara and I laughed. Delilah sounded just like Roxy and Kat. She’s been around them for way too long!
“Are you guys going to stop by the house and say goodbye to Mom and Dad before you leave tomorrow?” Sara asked. Delilah looked at me for an answer.
I shook my head. “I’ll call Mom tonight.”
“And Dad?”
“Probably not.”
“You should, Aiden.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat at the very thought of speaking to that man again.
“Guys,” Sara said. “I think something is going on with Dad. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to him lately and something doesn’t seem right. He’s been getting tired a lot and he’s always complaining of pain. He was joking with Mom that he’s just getting old. I think it’s something else.”
“Like what?” Delilah asked.
“I don’t know. Of course he won’t let me do a physical on him but I don’t think he’s well. I’m trying to get Mom to convince him to see a doctor.”
“Sick, like something serious?” Delilah asked. Sara nodded.
“Wow, I did notice that he’s lost weight, but Mom said he’s been wanting to lose a few pounds. I thought he started working out or something.”
“Dad hasn’t worked out in years,” Sara said. “He’s losing weight and he’s been getting colds and infections a lot more often than usual. I’m concerned.”
I listened to the worry in my sisters’ voices and couldn’t muster up the same emotion. Sick or not, I don’t care.
“We should talk to him,” Delilah addressed me. “Let’s go to the house before we go to the airport tomorrow.”
“You can go,” I answered. “I’m not. I have nothing to say to that man.”
“But he might be sick, Aiden.”
“So.”
“What’s going on?” Delilah asked. “Did he say something to you the other night? What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I told them.
“Aiden, what did he say?” Sara asked. “I know that look on your face. You’ve been making that face since you were fifteen and it’s always because of something that Dad said or did. What did he do?”
I saw the expression of concern on both of my sisters’ faces and I felt horrible. Just as much as I don’t want them to hurt, they don’t like to see me that way either. No matter what, I know my sisters are always on my side. They always have been and always will be. I can trust them. They love me.
“Dad,” I paused, forcing myself to say it out loud. “Dad hates me.”
“He said that?” Sara’s voice was angry and shocked.
“Not in so many words.”
“What did he say?” she demanded, sounding less like a concerned sister but like the oldest of the three of us.
I complied and told them both everything that had been said in the parking lot. When I finished, I was surprised to feel my eyes tearing up. When Sara put her arm around my shoulders, I leaned against her and broke down. Delilah scooted closer to me and hugged me.
“Don’t cry, Aiden,” she said. “You know what he said isn’t true.”
“I’m sorry, Aiden,” Sara spoke soothingly. “I’m sorry he said that shit to you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered.
“We know you will be, but that’s still fucked up,” Delilah said angrily. “How dare he say that? After all the shit you’ve done for us?”
“You’re not pissed about what he said about you guys?”
“Hell no,” Sara said. “Dad has serious issues. He can say whatever the hell he wants about me. I cannot believe he said those things about you! That pisses me off. I’m not going to let him get away with that, Aiden, believe me.”
I chuckled at my older sister’s courage.
“I’m serious as hell,” she said. “I’m so tired of the way he treats you. This is bullshit and has gone on long enough. We’re all fucking adults and out of all of us, you have done the best with your life. He’s done nothing with his except make us all miserable. I’m over it.”
“Me too,” Delilah said. “
He doesn’t have the right to talk to you like that. It’s awful and so wrong.”
I laughed and Sara tousled my hair.
“Don’t let him get to you, Aiden,” she said. “Besides, I got your back. You don’t have to say anything to him. I’ll say some shit to him that’ll make him regret what he did.”
“Yeah,” Delilah added. “We’ve got your back.”
****
Even with my sisters backing me up, I couldn’t shake how my father made me feel. Even after we got back to Los Angeles and wrapped up the new album, I carried that load on my heart for months. It’s been too difficult to let it go.
“Sunny! Come here for a sec,” I yelled.
“I’m feeding the baby,” she yelled back. “Just put the damn clothes on, Aiden! I’m not trying to find you another outfit!”
I stared at the navy blue suit hanging on the hook of my bedroom door and grimaced. Why does she always want to put me in a suit?
“This isn’t the Grammys,” I yelled again. “It’s a party at a nightclub!”
“It doesn’t matter!” A few minutes later I heard her footsteps padding down the hall towards my room.
“Look, I know you think you’re a rock star,” she said and fingered the suit on the back of the closet after sitting Summer on my bed.
“But tonight, you’re a blues player and it’s the release party for your blues album. Look the damn part, Aiden.”
“You’re trying to make me look like a seventies pimp.”
Sunny burst out laughing. “No, I’m not. But I promise you, Fat Cat, Roy, Joey, and all the others aren’t going to be wearing jeans to this party. I just want you to fit in. Wear the suit, please.”
This party is going to be epic, I know it is. It’s the first album release party I’ve had in Los Angeles, for one. Second, the album has been getting rave reviews from the critics. No one expected a blues album from me. It felt great to surprise the hell out of people and get a positive response from the people who matter.
Joey and I aren’t even worried about sales. We know how good this album is. When blues legends are already talking about it, I know that I’ve put together something that’s pretty damn good. Sure, my fans might not understand it but that doesn’t concern me. If one more music critic refers to me as the “Jimi Hendrix of my generation” I just might burst out of my skin with joy.
As we rode to the club, blasting Nothing But The Blues, I couldn’t help feeling like this is it. This is the best album I’ve made and it feels good to know that when I do decide to take a break from music, this is the music that I’m leaving people with.
I’ve come a very long way since playing at Rabbit’s...a very long way. Back then, I was just happy to have a gig, playing the music that I love. I wanted it to go further, but I was never certain it would. I had every right to feel that way. I heard the same line too many times to be one hundred percent confident.
“No one wants to hear a white boy trying to play the blues.”
All those people can kiss my ass.
I’ve sold more albums than I thought I ever would. Every time I set foot on a stage, it’s in front of a sold out crowd. Apparently, someone does want to hear this white boy play the blues.
I’m a motherfucking superstar. Whoever has a problem with it can go to hell.
Chapter 52
“Aiden, thank you for doing this interview. I know this is a special time for your family.”
I flashed a smile at the cute but nervous Sirius radio interviewer. She looks like she’s just an intern. I’m probably her first celebrity interview ever. When Roxy called this morning to tell me that Sirius wanted to broadcast an interview for one of their jazz and blues channels, I hesitated.
Going to Chicago the day of Delilah’s rehearsal dinner would surely get me killed. Then she said that they’d send the crew to me. If they are willing to travel from Chicago to Mt. Vernon in the cold on Christmas Eve, they definitely deserve a few minutes of my time. Besides, no other black radio or television station has ever wanted to talk to me before.
“No problem,” I told the girl as the crew mic’d us up and got ready for the broadcast. I spotted Tracy, hovering in the background making sure I don’t say something stupid.
“I need the distraction. This wedding stuff is driving me crazy.”
“Shall we start then?”
Poor girl was trying so hard to be professional but the glassy, starstruck look in her eyes and sweet giggle when I opened the door of my suite gave her away...definitely a fan.
Damn, she’s cute.
“Relax babe,” I grinned. “I’m a good interview.
“This is my first time,” she admitted. “I’m kind of nervous to be doing a live interview.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
Her pretty smile stretched across her face as she looked down at the list of questions on her notepad. She crossed her legs. Her peanut butter colored legs were thick and shapely. If I want, I can probably have them wrapped around my waist by the end of this interview.
And I definitely want to.
“So, ask me something good.”
Before she could get the first question out, my suite door burst open and my little sister, red-faced with rollers in her hair, burst through the door.
“Are you kidding me, Aiden?” she yelled.
Tracy signaled for them to cut the microphones off as Delilah rushed over towards me, like she wanted to hit me.
“What?”
“You’re doing an interview? An hour before rehearsal? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Dee-Lee, it’s not a big deal. Go get dressed. I’ll be done before you know it.”
“Why now?” she cried. “This weekend was supposed to be about me! You couldn’t let me have two days! It’s my wedding weekend and you’re about to be on the damn radio! Why don’t you just whip out one of your guitars and start playing in the middle of the fucking lobby?”
Delilah was near tears and I didn’t want to make her cry. She’s been so high strung and stressed over this wedding and cries at the drop of a hat.
“I’m not trying to steal your moment,” I told her. “This is your wedding, I know, but I have to work. I’ll be done in a minute. I won’t be late to rehearsal.”
“I swear to God, you better not be,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will kill you if you are even a second late, Aiden, I promise I will. This will be your last interview.”
As much as I wanted to laugh, I didn’t. Instead I kissed my frazzled little sister on the cheek and ushered her out of the room. I sat back down on the couch next to Sonia.
“We better get started.”
She shifted in her seat and smiled back. “Sorry about this.”
“Don’t be. So what do you want to ask me?” Tracy motioned for the sound guys to turn the microphones back on and Sonia started the interview.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with Aiden Tyler, singer, songwriter, and now has blues player added to his credentials." I laughed.
“First congratulations on the success of your album. This is the first time in the history of our station that we are constantly getting requests to play your songs. How does that make you feel?”
“It’s great to make an album like this and have it be accepted by people who enjoy the blues as much as I do.”
“As a pop artist, you’ve made a great career for yourself. What made you venture down the path you took with Nothing But The Blues?”
“I’ve always been a blues player. I started my career in Atlanta, playing at a blues club called Rabbit’s. After playing with some of the guys when I was in New Orleans, making a blues album seemed like the only way to go.”
“After the success of Limited Edition, Sell My Soul, and Third Time’s a Charm, were you nervous that that people wouldn’t accept this type of music from you?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t worried about it. I’m just at a point where I want to play my music and I don’t really care w
hat other people think about it.”
Tracy cringed. I ignored her.
“After hearing so many people tell me, early on in my career, that I had to play a different kind of music because this wasn’t the sixties and no one wanted to hear a white boy playing the blues, I really had this insatiable need to prove them all wrong. And I think I have.”
“Since you brought it up,” Sonia smiled tersely, “how does being a Caucasian in an African-American dominated genre like the blues, make you feel?”
“I guess the same way Eminem felt when he decided to become a rapper. Stevie Ray, Clapton, they’re white guys too and they’re great blues players. Jimi was black and a rock star. I just feel like music shouldn’t recognize race.”
Tracy nodded her approval at my answer.
“Besides, race shouldn’t be a factor anymore. It’s 2008. When I walk on stage with my band, I’m the only white guy on the stage but when you look out at the crowd, it’s a pretty even mix. I make music for people who like music. That’s all.”
“Blues players usually have a story, some pain, behind their music. You grew up in Mt. Vernon, Illinois in the suburbs. What did you go through that is blues music worthy?”
“Everyone experiences enough shit in their lifetime, no matter where they grew up, to make a blues album. Pain is pain,” I said. “My pain may be different than yours, or Fat Cat and Roy’s, but it’s still pain. It’s still traumatizing. It’s still song worthy.”
“Every single person who grew up with me, except my sisters and my friend Paulie, doubted me,” I explained. “My own parents never supported my decision to make a career out of my music. To this day, my father has only seen me play once. Could you walk around knowing that there is nothing you can do to make the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, proud of you? That’s pain.”
Sonia looked uncomfortable at my answer. She looked down at her notepad, ready to move on to the next question.
“When you signed with Power, a predominantly hip-hop and R&B label, people wondered why you didn’t sign with major pop label. Then you left Power and signed with an independent label and it made a lot of people wonder what you were trying to do. Can you lay the “he’s just trying to sound black” rumors to rest?”
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