Voices Carry: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection)

by Diane Rinella

  See, optimism is the way to go. Dale and I are friends for a reason. In our own way, we are peas in a pod—misfits, if you will.

  God only knows what debauchery I’m in for. I’ve managed to avoid nights like this with him. The closest I’ve come to participating in one of his escapades was being designated driver for his cousin’s bachelor party. That was months ago, and I think those guys may still be hung over.

  “What are you in the mood for tonight?” Dale asks.

  “Whatever. You’re in charge.”

  His chin juts back. Judging by his expression, he’s wondering what’s up. Thankfully, when times get tough, guys don’t talk. We pat each other on the back and push onward. I’m here to get shoved. Maybe there is some credence in what Jennifer says, but it is also entirely possible my brain fakes visions while I’m on the phone with Dale because he is the one who can shove me into changing. It’s time I step back and see what could be the big picture, regardless of how I feel about what it may be.

  Dale clasps his hands together. “Okay, after we finish here, we’ll head down the block. There’s a little restaurant with some of the cutest waitresses.” As he continues on about our options, the flicker of the TV across the room steals my thoughts.

  Seeing Katherine on there would be salt in my wounds. When I booked this trip, I knew there was no guarantee of running into her. But to have forced myself to make peace with my inner demons, and then come all this way, only to immediately learn my hopes won’t be fulfilled, drags my heart through the mud. Regardless of how I think what I am hearing is real, regardless of being convinced I can feel her energy, and certainly despite psychic guidance, I can’t live this way any longer. I have to move forward.

  My words race out to interrupt Dale. “If you’re only out to hook up, why not head straight to the place where the odds are most in our favor?”

  Dale’s eyes widen and lock long enough to process what is going on. His tone is steadfast, yet something about the glow of happiness that paints its way across him seems dim. “That’s my man! I didn’t know you had it in ya!”

  I don’t. I don’t even know how I’m going to fake being like Dale.

  Ache creeps into my jaw. I stretch my neck and drop open my mouth to release some of the tightness that has built. Thinking about what could happen tonight, compared to what I really want, has me grinding my teeth. Yet with a forced grin, I tap my beer against Dale’s and polish it off, then flag down the waitress for another round.

  “Hey, I know it’s just beer, but you gotta pace yourself.”

  No, I’d rather be numb. “Pick a place so we can go load up.”

  Dale’s eyes narrow as if he is trying to extract my story without asking. “I’ve never seen you load up. You know, for all the time we’ve spent in bars, you’ve never been close to wasted. That’s another thing I didn’t know you had in you. In fact, I’m rather skeptical now.”

  “Well, there’s a first for everything.” He’s right. I often say I am going to tie one on, only to stop after my second or third beer. It doesn’t matter if I’m in a bar, at a party, or in my home. Something inside me says enough. I’m optimistic that tonight will be different.

  “Where are we headed?” I ask. “Pick the place where you’ve had the best luck, and that’s where we’ll go.” Translation: Let’s get this hell over with.

  My second beer arrives. I get the very last drop out of the first before handing the waitress the bottle.

  “Let’s head over to the Gold Club.”

  I toast, “To the Gold Club,” and take a swig while his suggestion sinks in. “Hold on. Is that a strip joint?”

  “Yep. A strip joint with a buffet, so we can go straight there.”

  “Food? You pick up girls in a strip joint? I thought the only girls you could pick up there were hookers, yet I know you refuse to pay for it.”

  Dale crosses his arms, and I get a glance I’m not sure how to read. Does he want to lay into me, or is this whole strip club thing a test to see where my head is? “I thought you were only out for a good time. And yes, food. The place is aimed at businessmen. You’d be surprised by the number of deals that go down there.”

  My eyebrow cocks.

  “Legitimate deals. What I shell out at those places I get back triple in commission.”

  No wonder why salesmen come off as sleazy. “I may be open to a lot of things, but if I’m going to hook up with someone, I hope she has some kind of interest in me other than my pocketbook. Besides, I don’t get why guys are willing to get hard-ons while their business partners watch. How often do you wait for your client while he is in the bathroom?”

  “Okay, Wayne. Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

  “I’m here for a good time, remember?”

  He leans in, and I get a finger pointed at me. Busted. “Yeah, you may be here, but where is the real Brandon Wayne? I’ve never seen him even remotely interested in picking up someone. Besides, you, whoever you may be, have both a tone and body language that is more geared towards kicking someone’s ass than it is partying.”

  Now that he’s mentioned it, I notice I am not tapping my foot; I’m stomping it. We haven’t left the hotel, and I’m already acting like public enemy number one. Subconsciously, I’ve given myself an attitude that is destined to doom me before I start.

  Enough crap. Enough making excuses for what is going on. Not only do I need to surrender to who I am, I want to. Acting this way has me disappointed in myself. “I hate this. I hate acting the macho man so much it is turning me into an absolute jerk. None of this is why I came here.”

  Dale shakes his head and looks around, totally clueless. “Why did you come here?”

  “Because every day I wake up alone and either go to work or hang out with you and Shane. I need something different, but the different I want isn’t this.” If I had a towel in my hand, I’d toss it down in surrender. Life isn’t turning out the way I want, and that fact may be making me so delusional I have created something as hard to let go of as Amber is. Hearing voices, feeling sensations, buying into what a psychic says—regardless of how accurate it seems—and forcing optimism so I can accept all of this as real and stay out of the nut house, is fucking terrifying!

  Facing the different dimensions of my reality brings up a lot of emotions guys aren’t supposed to express—at least not to each other. That notion is crap! “I can’t stop thinking about how my life would be if Amber hadn’t died. We had the date we were going to get married. We knew exactly when we would start having kids. Together we had goals, and alone I’ve got diddly squat. I should be singing my kid to sleep. Instead, I’m in a bar with a guy who lives a completely different lifestyle than the one I want.”

  I wish I could let loose. I also can’t help thinking letting loose has problems of its own. It goes back to what I discovered with the past life regression. I killed someone because I was drunk and driving, and then shot myself in the head because I hurt her. I get it now. The reason I don’t get wasted is because my head is still jacked up from the last time.

  I’m also being an ass, and Dale doesn’t deserve it. When it comes down to it, he’s a good guy; else I never would have let him into my life. “I’m sorry, man. I just want life to work out. I need to get past the image of what could’ve been and create a new reality. The thing is I don’t want some ordinary girl; I want someone who is ideal. Is that so wrong?”

  Dale’s eyes stay low as he subtly shakes his head. He probably wishes he could ship me off on the next plane. I would not blame him if he did. However, of all the things he could say, he softly confesses the last thing I would expect. “No, it’s not wrong at all.” Dale swallows hard, and then looks as if he is covering how much he shares my sentiment by taking a swig from his beer. Did I hit a chord?

  He sets down his bottle with caution. Brief eye contact that sends his gaze back to the table and a hint of a shrug tell me to carry on with releasing whatever emotions are spiraling in me. I’m taking him up on it to
o, because I’m starting to realize one of the reasons I came here is one I never saw coming—and it has little to do with me. Dale and I may not be so different after all.

  “I want what I was supposed to have. I want a woman to face each day with me as a team. I don’t want to help her up the stairs after she’s had a baby; I want to wait on her hand and foot because she has already done so much. When the baby cries, I want to drag myself up with her and change the kid’s diaper. While she’s feeding him, I’ll make cocoa to help us get back to sleep. When morning comes, I’ll be in charge of the coffee and toast while she makes the eggs.” My shattered dreams nearly tie a knot in my throat, intensifying the pain in my words. “It was all within reach, and someone took it away.”

  I wish I could find it in me to shut up before I turn into a sobbing mess, but I need to vent. As much as the truth shreds my soul, I can’t shortchange myself any longer. “When I interviewed for my job, my boss asked what life’s big picture meant to me. Instead of keeping my answer professional, I conceded to telling her how, despite the pain of losing the person I thought was destined to make my life complete, I dare to dream for my future. Imagine how much hope it gave me when she said when I need flexibility, she will have my back. Everyone at Endeara is family, and family helps you build your dreams.”

  I can’t keep the fire of the heartache burning in my eyes at bay any longer, and I let my tears hit the table without concern over what anyone thinks. The only thing that matters is I now understand myself more than ever. I’m Brandon Wayne, and I dare to be optimistic about hearing voices and things that should frighten me not because a psychic said it was okay, but for the sole reason of wanting something better. Unfortunately, because of how others may see my actions, there is only so much I can share. “The truth is, I took a job marketing a product I hate, and I don’t care about partying and getting laid, because I dare to seek happiness. That’s who I really am. Besides, what is my ideal woman going to think of a bunch of notches on my bedpost?”

  Dale’s eyes have been locked on his beer this entire time. I’ve always wondered why I put up with a womanizer who hyper-focuses on making money. Now the reasons behind our friendship are no longer evasive. The longing I sense in his heart is confirmed when his eyes rise to meet mine. “You’re right. I get it.” Those eyes go straight back to his beer, yet his emotions still face me. “I really get it. This lifestyle is for the birds. Hell, even they shouldn’t go through this.” He shakes his head and takes a swig. As the light hits his eyes, the gleam of moisture becomes apparent.

  Dale has commented in passing that if he ever ran across his soul mate, he’d be thrilled. I always took it as him trying to make Shane and I feel less like outcasts. Shane is as tired of being alone as I am. He hides behind that counter because nearly every time he has reached out, he’s gotten hurt. That doesn’t only go with him for women; it goes for him with friends of both sexes. When Shane takes a risk and reaches out to you, you’re special. Now I am learning Dale is in the same boat. I see it etched in his watery eyes that won’t look at me.

  And come to think of it, he was pretty reserved when we were at that bachelor party. “It’s my cousin’s big night, not mine,” he said in response to my wondering why he was only providing the bills and not stuffing them. Now the incident makes me wonder if he is concealing loneliness behind an image, especially after that comment about business deals. Is that why he convinces himself he wants to be in those places? To make sales? How much value does the almighty dollar hold?

  Dale taps a couple of screens on his phone before tossing the thing in front of me with a movie app open. “Pick something. Apparently you are my date tonight, so I’ll treat you to dinner and a movie.”

  Here is where our big opportunity to talk like damaged souls crashes. Darla would get me to finish dumping, make me find humor in my situation, and then give me a pep talk about how it’s all going to work out. Men just find a stopping point and move on. We don’t really get to know each other, and it’s a huge mistake.

  Knowing Dale has a love for vintage everything, I pick going to an old, single-screen place. What’s playing at The Kingsway doesn’t matter, but escaping reality does.

  True to his word about me being his date, Dale tosses down enough to cover our tab, and we head off.

  Although I’ve accidentally arrived at a time when no one else is home, memories greet me—beautiful memories of Mom and I dancing in the kitchen while Dad played his guitar. Memories of giggles from when I was little and chased the cats around the living room. I can see my sparkling, red shoes as if they are still on my feet. All of these wonderful things keep this Seattle home filled with love, light, and warmth no matter how bleak the world outside gets. I want that in my life again.

  Whenever I need to rediscover myself, I come here while leaving the colored contacts and concealer behind. It is great when I go natural in LA and don’t get recognized, but it is freaky how I can look like the girl who grew up here yet no one remembers I am her.

  I was tired of blending in with half-dead grass, so the summer I turned sixteen, I used every penny of my birthday money on revamping myself. After dyeing my hair Intense Red Auburn, soaking it in hair gloss reminded me of fire under moonlight. I tried bleaching the freckles I always hated. Since I could not stand how my hazel eyes looked as if someone splattered chocolate in them, I covered them with bottle green-colored contacts. Getting attention from boys wasn’t enough. I kept up my transformation until I reached the true mark of glamour—which was when the other girls started hating me. Since then I have considered normality to be a wild extreme.

  My room hasn’t changed since I moved to LA in pursuit of what some call unobtainable. It was here I resolved to change my appearance. Here I decided I wanted to be a rock star, found I couldn’t carry a tune to save mankind, and figured I would give acting a shot. And it was here I chose to delay going to a university so I could hand a beautiful little girl over to someone else.

  After spending my first two years at a junior college, I was all set to spend my last two years at a university. But once my daughter was born, the guilt of having given up a child in exchange for a career set in. I had to make good on that, so I blew off the remaining two years of school, headed for Los Angeles, and took terrible jobs in order to pay the bills—all just to get what I had sacrificed her for.

  While giving a child to a deserving couple is beautiful, doing it for the wrong reasons made me ugly. By extension, despite the pain he was going through, how Jason hid such a secret makes him ugly, too. What he did was also underhanded and selfish.

  Then again, why didn’t I take my parents up on their offer to help raise their grandchild? Because I would feel guilty? Because of the pressure? Because they were so supportive of whatever I would decide it was easy for me to make excuses? I had the opportunity to handle things differently and didn’t, much like Jason. How much can I fault him?

  I lie on the bed and roll to face the pillow on my left. It draws my attention as if the gentle ear I need just has to be called to mind in order for it to rest next to me.

  I’ve definitely connected with my character. She needs something no one else can give her, so she finds a way to give it to herself. Jason says the right things, but he doesn’t give me the intimate connection that makes me know I am not alone. Wanting to ease a person’s burden is one thing, but feeling it so deeply it is conveyed with your soul is another.

  Memories of meeting Jason on the day of my audition swarm into my mind. Something about the way he looked at me made my face warm to the point where I needed to shy away. It also caused insecurity to suck me in so badly I was blowing the audition. Then Jason asked the director to give us a moment. His earnest look turned my heart to Jell-O. “I don’t bite,” he said, “but the director does. You cling to me, and I’ll protect you from that evil jerk.” He winked and I felt secure, both by being next to him and in getting the part.

  Where is that sense of security when I need it mos
t? After what happened, I am not even sure I can love Jason. How I came here to avoid him and will return home right after he leaves for a location shoot speaks volumes.

  My heart grows heavy over how the last few days have shown me I need to open myself to Jason not being the one for me—especially since talking to someone who only exists in my head has become one of my greatest comforts. That fact has also crossed me over the threshold into a world that seems based in reality yet doesn’t exist.

  Or maybe on some level it does. Is it possible I have a soul mate? Does he know someone is here, unexplainably loving him and longing to see him again?

  The heaviness in my heart builds. What if somewhere along the line, I took a wrong turn and gave up more than I bargained for?

  The pangs of my newfound loneliness are unlike any I have ever felt. I grab the pillow and wrap myself around it, feeling desperate for love—real love—the kind that enraptures you—the type that challenges you to be better, because this person makes you see how much you can give. Having something in my life that is so opposite than what I need is making all I do have seem insignificant. I want to be consumed by love again. Once more, I want someone I can trust. Right now I only find that in fantasyland. The thing that bothers me most is how comforting it is, as if I am attached to an alternate reality.

  This is crazy. I need to get out of here and clear my head.

  I start to head out but realize I don’t have friends here any more. Shoot, I get so tied up with work that the only people I ever talk to are co-workers, and the only ones I see outside of work are Jason and Bailey. While I love her like a sister, how is it Bailey has become my only true friend? Also, I never hear her mention anyone other than her own sister who lives on the other side of the continent. Shoot, I talk to my parents so little they won’t know I am here until they get home from BINGO, or wherever they may be. How can I not know where they are? Again I am starting to understand why I find comfort in speaking to someone I can only hope exists.