Back-Up

by A. m Madden

  I feel some remorse for shouting at him. “Sorry Hunt. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I can’t deal with Hunter being mad at me too.

  “Just glad you are alive. Based on how you looked last night, my scenario isn’t so far- fetched.”

  “I guess not. Remind me to never drink tequila again. My head feels like it’s made of cement. ” Making my way to the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of the condition of our apartment.

  “This place is a fucking mess. Hire someone to clean this up because I’m not doing it.”

  “Yeah, whatever. How much did you have last night?”

  “And don’t even think of banging around in this kitchen because I WILL KILL YOU!”

  I start prepping the coffee maker hearing him mumble “Christ.” while he quietly opens doors to get his breakfast ready.

  “What did you ask me?”

  “How much tequila did you drink last night?”

  “I don’t know half a bottle? I lost track.”

  “Fuck dude. No wonder you didn’t hear me pounding. Is something bothering you? The last time you broke out the tequila was when you were telling your parents you were dropping out.”

  “I just have a lot on my mind.” I pour my first cup of coffee and after two sips I’m feeling a little better already.

  Hunter is standing at the sink, watching me arrogantly and loudly eating his Fruit Loops.

  “Do you have to chew so loud?” Glaring at him, I grab my coffee and head up to the roof to avoid his condescending stare.

  “Call Jen and tell her we’ll be in this afternoon. I need air.”

  Hunter mumbles, “What you need is your ass kicked.” I pretend I didn’t hear him, and shut the door behind me.

  Hunter is absolutely right.

  Usually sitting on the roof clears my head. Now it’s tainted. It holds memories I’d like to forget, specifically the look on her face.

  We were getting along so nicely. I enjoyed being with her during our lunch together. The more time I spend with her, the more I want to spend with her. I can’t imagine what she is thinking or feeling right now.

  Bullshit, I suspect she’s thinking what the fuck did I sign on to?

  Pulling out my phone, I’m not surprised there isn’t a response to my voicemail. This only confirms my suspicions. This is unfamiliar territory for me. I am not used to giving a crap about what someone thinks about me.

  All these meaningless relationships, what the hell was I thinking? I’ve convinced myself, since the girls I fucked called the shots, that it was ok. I have a nasty taste in my mouth, and I doubt it’s from my hangover.

  I really do need to fix this. I don’t know her well enough to show up at her apartment to talk. A phone call would be more appropriate. My fingers reflexively hit my contacts icon. I sit and stare at her name but chicken out and shut off my phone.

  I need some time, a good dose of nerve, and a good ass kicking.

  Chapter 13-Leila

  The past few weeks have flown by and our first rehearsal is now just two days away. If not for the thick packet of legal documents that are sitting on my dresser, I would not know I was a member of Devil’s Lair. Is it normal that I really haven’t had much contact from the band? About a week ago Jennifer reached out to so I could sign some papers. She said she would mail them to me so I wouldn’t have to schlep into the city.

  Just yesterday, someone by the name of Dylan Kressel contacted me. He introduced himself as the Tour Manager and also wanted to meet to also sign some paperwork. We decided on lunch at the studio. I was about to ask Dylan if the band would also be present. But I rather not know. If Jack is there, it’s best I don’t have time to obsess over seeing him again.

  Besides Jennifer and Dylan, the only other contact I received was a text from Hunter that said - hi, how you holding up? I thought that was very sweet of him to check in on me.

  There was the one voicemail from Jack, too. I was stunned to see his number on my phone the next morning after his party. Actually he called just after we left. On his message he said he wanted to talk and asked me to please call him. At the time, there was no way I wanted to talk, but that was childish of me, because I couldn’t keep avoiding him.

  So a few days later I called him back. He sounded happy to hear from me. He was most definitely beating around the bush the first few minutes by making small talk. He asked how I was doing, and if there was anything I wanted to discuss. Then he apologized once again for kissing me, and for what I saw that night. I accepted and told him not to worry about it. Joking, I said that tequila was the root of all evil. We ended the call awkwardly and haven’t spoken since.

  Regarding the kiss, I know that he was drunk. That’s the part that’s been consuming me. Would he have kissed me otherwise? It’s all I’ve been thinking about.

  My logical side tells me, “This is a very complicated situation. You will be living with him, but you’ll also be living with three others. You have no business becoming involved with Jack Lair.” I hate my logical side. I know she’s right, but I hate her.

  My passionate side says, “Fuck logic. You have been thinking of nothing else but Jack Lair since the day you laid eyes on him. Go for it.”

  My life was so simple, so comfortable, and so easy before I signed onto this endeavor. It almost makes me regret auditioning. My nerves have gotten the best of me. My sleep habits over the past few weeks have been horrendous. I’ve lost weight due to lack of appetite.

  Evan noticed and I blamed stress because of the looming tour.

  “Bullshit, Lei. You acted weird when he came to the bar. You acted weirder when you flew out of his party. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  “I have a crush on Jack. When we were upstairs on the roof talking, we accidentally kissed.” That’s all the info I was willing to give him. This was the first time since becoming friends that I did not confide in him. Even with knowing only part of the truth, he still ripped me open a new one. He ranted about how this is my dream, and how he won’t let me throw it all away on a crush. He also said to get my head out of my vagina.

  He has no idea what is really bothering me. He has no clue that I am so attracted to this man that I can’t think straight. Even after seeing him with two girls at once. What the hell is wrong with me? How can I explain this to my best friend?

  My dad also noticed my stress levels, yet accepted my excuse easily. He could relate, as the tour looming ahead was causing him to become a bit more neurotic. He’s meddled uncharacteristically since I signed. He showed up at the bar a couple times a week and would sit with us during breaks. Our Sunday brunch has become a four hour-long event. I can easily tell him to back off, but I won’t. This is his coping mechanism and I can’t deny him that.

  Besides dad and Evan, no one else has noticed my mood. Lori has jumped head first into her new job. She spends every waking moment doing “band” stuff, when she isn’t mixing drinks. She even had business cards made up.

  She has a few people lined up to audition as my replacement. The band didn’t give Lori a hard time about that at all. They know she won’t take their shit like I do. The band wanted me to sit in on the auditions, but I flat out refused. I neither want to influence them, nor see them replacing me. Even though it needs to be done, I don’t need to witness it.

  Except for my nerves wreaking havoc on my intestines, life during these past few weeks has been normal otherwise. Our shows continued as normal and we hung out as usual. We even went down to AC for our yearly Memorial Day weekend getaway. Sal closes the bar every year for that holiday as well as The fourth of July, and Labor Day weekend to go fishing. Make no mistake, the only reason he closes is because Hoboken is a ghost town during those holidays. It costs him more to stay open than it’s worth. The only other holiday he closes for is Christmas.

  We head down the shore for a mini vacation and we have a blast. I room with the girls. The guys get two separate rooms. We drink, and eat, and gamble, and lay on the beach and it’s an awe
some tradition.

  This year was sadder since the dark cloud of me leaving the band hovered over us. We had a great time, but I’m left feeling unsettled and lonely.

  My phone rings as I’m unpacking from our weekend. I debate on answering it, since I don’t recognize the number. Realizing it could be someone from the studio, I decide to take the call.

  “Hello Leila?” a sweet voice asks over the phone.

  “Yes?” Who can this be?

  “Hi, I’m Lizzy…Elizabeth Lair…Jack’s sister.” I can’t imagine why she is calling me. I feel uneasy, hoping it’s not bad news.

  “Hi Lizzy, how are you? Is everything ok?” I ask her.

  “Oh yes, everything is fine. I hope you don’t mind me calling you. I got your number from Hunter. I’m planning a birthday party for my brother. He’s turning twenty-nine on the tenth of June. It’s sort of a combination early thirtieth slash good luck on the tour celebration. I would love for you to come.”

  Jack’s birthday in on the tenth? Mine is on the ninth. I can’t believe we are one day apart and both Gemini’s. I decide to keep this information to myself since I wouldn’t want to give Lizzy or anyone the opportunity to embarrass me at this party.

  I am sort of honored she went through the trouble to get my number and to include me. Yes I’ll be working with the band by then but she didn’t have to invite me. She has no clue who I am. Maybe Hunter asked her to include me or perhaps someone knows it’s also my birthday? I feel nauseous at the thought.

  “That sounds great, Lizzy. I would love to come.”

  “Oh I’m so glad. It’s next Saturday night at Granite. I can’t wait to meet you. Jack has said wonderful things about you.”

  He did?

  “I can’t wait to meet you as well.”

  “Oh, and feel free to bring a friend if you’d like. It’s a surprise, so please don’t tell Jack.”

  I don’t speak to Jack unless necessary. “No problem. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Great. Bye Leila.”

  “Bye.”

  It’s Jack’s birthday. I wonder how he will celebrate a birthday, maybe a four-some?

  Ugh, why did I go there?

  I’ll bring Evan.

  ***

  The studio is very quiet on a Saturday. Even Sally is missing. A young man no older than sixteen mans the phones while his head is buried in his own iPhone. I’m sure it’s a studio head’s son or grandson trying to make some extra cash.

  “Hi I’m Leila. I’m scheduled to meet with Dylan Kressel.”

  He blushes as he looks up and clumsily drops his iPhone on the floor.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Um…it’s ok.”

  He is very cute and looks like a rock star in training. Based on his black t-shirt, leather wristbands, and faux-hawk, he definitely has been taking notes watching the many rock stars that walk these halls.

  “I’m Ian. Um, Ian Phillips. Dylan is expecting you. Um, he’s in the conference room…”

  Bingo. He must be Bobby Phillips, the owner of the studio’s son.

  “Um…I’ll show you.” His eyes bug out of his head at the sight of my tight t-shirt and jeans. He probably doesn’t have a lot of experience talking to girls up close.

  “No need, Ian. I know the way.” I smile warmly.

  Ian’s eyes bug out again, and he drops his phone for the second time. He avoids eye contact, after he bends to pick it up and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He is a mess of nerves and I decide to let him off the hook.

  “Bye Ian. Nice meeting you.” Waving, I turn to walk down the hall.

  “Bye Leila. Nice meeting you too!” he calls after me.

  I think I have an admirer.

  Not concentrating on where I am going, I ram right into a male body. His arms grip mine to stop me from falling backwards.

  “Leila, I presume?”

  “Um, yes, I’m Leila. I’m so, so sorry.” I nervously take a step backwards forcing him to release his hold on me.

  “I’m Dylan…Dylan Kressel. It’s so nice to meet you. Come on in.” He motions me towards the conference room. He is handsome in a very classic way with vivid blue eyes, average height - maybe five ten - sandy brown hair that is parted to the side and is very neatly styled. His best feature is his smile. It lights up his whole face.

  He looks like he could be in an ad for an Ivy League university. Especially in his blue sport coat, white collared shirt, khaki slacks and loafers. He does not fit into the rock and roll world he works for. I wonder if he does that on purpose and knows he can’t compete with rock stars.

  The table of the conference room is laid out with a catered lunch, as well as drinks and a platter of cookies. It looks like he ordered way too much food for just the two of us.

  Uh oh.

  “Do you like wraps?” He asks while offering me a chair.

  I sit and nod, “Yes, that’s fine. This is very nice of you.”

  “My pleasure. I invited the band and Jennifer to join us at twelve-thirty. I wanted to chat and get to know you a bit before they arrive. I hope that’s ok.”

  Dylan’s words send a nervous rush through my veins. He’s coming.

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  Dylan sits across from me, leaving the chair beside me empty. “So Leila, tell me about yourself.” Dylan asks, leaning back in his chair.

  My leg shaking uncontrollably under the table is the only sign of my anxiety as I wait for the Rock God to appear.

  “Well Dylan, I come from Jersey and I sing in a bar in Hoboken.”

  “Are you ready for all that’s about to happen to you?”

  “I think I am. I’ve been preparing for this most of my life. Whether I succeed is another story.”

  “I’ve heard your audition tape Leila. You are very talented. Success is definitely in your cards.”

  “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

  “Kindness has nothing to do with it.”

  “Well I hope my nerves don’t get the best of me, and hamper my talent.”

  “You handle the performance part and I’ll handle the rest. You will have a support system during the tour and you can leave all the worrying to me. I will be touring with you and the band. It’s my job to make sure you are prepared for your performances. I’ll be the person you will come to if you need absolutely anything at all. I have an assistant who is extremely efficient. Her name is Cathy, and she is my right hand person. She will not be traveling with us, but she will be in constant contact. If I can’t help you, Cathy can.”

  Relief washes over me. Cathy can be the female confidante I’ll need on this tour and Dylan can be the male. I feel relaxed in Dylan’s company within the few minutes I’ve been with him. This is a novelty that hasn’t happened with anyone else I’ve met so far who is connected to Devil’s Lair.

  “Sounds like I’m going to be best friends with Cathy.”

  “Yes I’d say you were right. I get there are things you may not be comfortable asking me for. In those cases, Cathy is your woman.”

  I like Dylan. I really like Dylan. He’s seems approachable, and kind and comfortable. I’m feeling a bit better.

  “Will you be on the same bus as the band?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No, we would kill each other. I am a bit O.C.D. I’m sure five minutes into the tour I’d be throwing any loose articles of clothing out the window as we were moving, and they would throw me out right behind it.” He chuckles and I join in.

  “Oh no, I’m a bit O.C.D too. I guess I’ll have to learn to look the other way?”

  “If it becomes too much for you, you are welcome to join me and the roadies. But we’d have to hide you because the band would not be happy if you bunked with us. How do you feel about sleeping in the overhead?”

  “Sounds cozy.” I respond dryly, and he laughs again.

  “I’ll be on the second bus with Will Sutter. He is the equipment manager for Devil’s Lair, as wel
l as our drivers, and five roadies that you will meet once we take off.” He frowns and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

  He shakes his head and stands. “Excuse me, Leila?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” He nods and leaves the room.

  Speaking to Dylan these last few minutes helped me forget that Jack is coming. Unfortunately, I now remember that Jack is coming.

  We will be in a room full of people. I can handle it. I can handle it. I can handle it.

  Dylan is back in less than a minute with Jennifer in tow. “Hello Leila, how are you?” she asks with a phony as hell smile.

  “Hi Jennifer. I’m fine, thank you, how are you?” I reciprocate with my own phony as hell smile.

  “I’m great. I’m looking very forward to getting started.” She looks at Dylan and remarks, “Nice spread.”

  “I aim to please.” He says with a tight smile. He stands between Jennifer and me and now looks uptight and tense. I guess Mr. Kressel and Ms. Baxter aren’t BFF’s? I like Dylan even more now.

  “Hi Dyl.” I hear Jack say as he strolls into the room. Noticing me sitting behind Dylan he stops in his tracks. “Oh, hey Leila. I didn’t know you were here already.”

  My heart pounds furiously in my chest, and my breathing becomes labored. I can handle it, my ass.

  “I asked Leila to come a little earlier so we could chat.” Dylan says to Jack while extending his hand. Jack pauses before shaking it. Jack’s quite a bit taller than Dylan, enabling him to see over his shoulder and into my eyes. We exchange gazes; Jack’s lacking the smolder and heat I’m used to seeing. In its place, remorse and shame.

  “Good to see you Leila.” I smile at him not trusting my voice to respond.

  Dylan takes the chair beside me. Jack clenches his jaw and moves around the table to sit directly across from me. The tension between us can be cut with a knife. Dylan notices and tries to lighten the mood. “Did you lose the rest of the band, or did you finally fire their asses?”