by Jesse Jordan
“How was that?”
Cora's staring at me, her eyes wide and she says nothing for a second before she turns off the recording light, and gives me another thumb’s up. Ian's also silent until he clears his throat. “Jesus, man, that's a fucking baby-making song.”
I blush, and Ian shakes his head, getting up and leaving the booth. Cora sits silently for another minute before she comes into the booth, smiling. “I have it. And while Ian's being a bit crass with it, he's right. That was one sexy, amazing solo, Joey. You just did your Four Letters, bro. And I got all of it on high-def digital. Seriously, I've called you a guitar god before, but that transcended humanity, you truly touched the divine there. And you better be glad that you're in a relationship, and that I'm engaged, because after that... Rocky's getting rocked when I get home.”
I blush deeper, smiling. “Yeah... I'm kinda feeling the same way. Not about Rocky, though.”
Cora gives a bark of laughter, grinning. “That's good.”
Andrea looks around as we pull up in front of Rocky and Cora's home in Simi Valley, taking it in for a moment before saying anything. “So... I don't want to sound spoiled, but this place looks so normal.”
“That's because that's what they wanted,” I laugh, reaching for my camera. “Here, you get to do all the shooting today, remember? Gotta earn your keep, woman!”
Andrea laughs, taking the Canon EOS from me and sliding the strap around her neck. We spent two hours yesterday going over how to use the camera, she’s going to be fine with it.
“And you're sure that Cora and Rocky are cool with this?” she asks, chewing her lip. “I mean, I'm not a legit journalist anymore.”
“And I'm not a legitimate guitar player since I'm not in the Philharmonic,” I reply, taking her hand. “Andrea, it's not who you work for that makes you a journalist. You are what makes you a journalist. Besides, it'll give you a chance to really get to know the other half of my family more. The Fragments are part of my family, just as much as Mama and Maria and Angel. Besides, I'll be here. This isn't just a business thing.”
Andrea smiles and turns, looking at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Remind me, we've got to tell Mama and Maria that. Just so they know,” I comment, climbing out of my car. It feels great to say it, and I want to say it all the time, but I'd like to make sure Mama and Maria aren't caught off guard when we start using it around the house.
Rocky and Cora are inside, and Cora gives us both a hug when we knock. “Hey, we asked Bella to hang out in her room a little bit while we figure out what you want to shoot and ask about, Andrea. We trust you, but Bella's still little.”
“I totally understand,” Andrea says. “If you want to keep her out of all the photos, I'm totally cool with that. I understand if you want to protect her privacy. Oh, and I'll make sure there are no shots of your address, anything like that.”
Rocky nods, his face slightly serious. “Andrea, we trust you to be totally professional. And since this is for the website, we know you'll be putting things in a good light, which is fine by me. For your blog, I'd just ask that we get to read it first.”
Andrea nods, her face also serious. “Rocky, anything I put in my blog is going to be vetted through you guys first. If I can't agree to any edits you want, I don't run the entire piece. That's a promise I'll make to you now.”
Rocky offers his hand, and they shake, Rocky's seriousness disappearing immediately afterward. “Good. Now that we've got that settled, would you like to see Bella's playset? Bella!”
Bella Clearwater comes out of her room, running down the hall to hug Rocky in a maneuver that is almost identical to what Angel does to me when he and I see each other again. He might not be Bella's birth father, but he loves the girl very much and has been a father to her in every meaningful way since he and Cora connected. “Bella, would you like it if Andrea took pictures of you today?”
“Sure, Daddy!” Bella says, and I can see that Rocky's still moved by the word. It nearly brought me to tears the first time I heard her call Rocky that. “What do you want to see, Andrea?”
“How about your playset, like Rocky mentioned?” Andrea asks, smiling. “And can I ask you some questions about Cora and Rocky while we play?”
“You want to play with me?” Bella asks, her eyes wide and a grin forming on her face. “Cool!”
“How about we all play?” I ask. “I wore casual clothes for a reason, you know.”
“I thought it was so I could make you look bad in the garage,” Rocky lightly taunts, and I smirk. “What?”
“I signed up somewhere, Rock. You might find yourself looking bad on our website.”
Cora shakes her head, glancing at Andrea who's grinning. “Getting what you want?”
“For sure. And I'm looking forward to seeing the garage. What's in there?”
Rocky winks, punching me lightly on the shoulder. “You'll see. We've got ropes and chains now too.”
“Say what?” Andrea asks, then shakes her head. “Whatever it is, I've seen worse in Beverly Hills. Come on Bella, let's go have fun while Rocky grows up.”
We spend nearly an hour playing on the giant wooden set. Andrea gets plenty of shots, including my personal favorite, Rocky pushing Cora on the swing while she holds onto the ropes, her stomach just starting to show through the thin sweatshirt she's wearing. We go inside for lunch, Bella enjoying a peanut butter sandwich while she tells Andrea all about her life before meeting Rocky. As she does, I talk quietly with Rocky in the corner, both of us eating our own sandwiches. “Who's Lemondrop?”
Rocky laughs silently, nodding in understanding. Bella talked about someone named Lemondrop at least a half dozen times in the past hour, and I'm honestly confused. “Kid of some Hollyweird type, as Cora calls them. From her old daycare.”
I chuckle, chewing my sandwich. “So... boy or girl?”
“You’re not finding out early, Joey. Keep it up, we're going to name the kid something Hollyweird, too. I was thinking... how about Butterfly?”
“If it's a boy, you're going to get your ass kicked by me and Ian, in defense of our nephew,” I tease.
Just then, Andrea's phone rings, and she pulls it out of her pocket, glancing at the caller. “Excuse me, Bella, do you mind if I talk to my friend here? It's a work call.”
“No, thanks for playing,” Bella says politely. She might have been raised in a crappy apartment, she might have eaten welfare food, but Bella's been raised with politeness and class. Cora should be proud of her efforts. Looking over at her face as she eats her lunch, I can tell she is proud of her daughter, and I wonder if perhaps I'm getting sentimental. Or maybe, even though I love Angel very much, I'm starting to want children of my own.
Andrea takes her phone and goes into the living room, the door closing behind her as she talks to whoever it is. A minute later, the door opens again and she comes in, surprise on her face. “Say that again Harry? Hold on, I want to put you on speakerphone, I've got Joey here with me. Just a sec.”
Andrea puts her phone down, giving Cora a look which Cora reads expertly. She whispers in Bella's ear, and the two of them leave the dining area, Rocky giving her a look before Andrea waves it off and starts the speakerphone. “Okay Harry, so you were saying about the office?”
“Yeah, apparently, your father just read your resignation letter today. Who did you turn that thing in to, anyway?”
Andrea sits down, and Rocky and I come over, intrigued. Andrea taps her ear and pinches her lips, I get the point. Right now, I need to listen, not talk. “Harry, I turned it into the third-floor HR people, then told Carl. He's the editor, I felt I owed him that much.”
“Well, apparently either HR didn't notify the board room, or Carl didn't want to get his ass lit on fire, because nobody told your father, or that you'd moved out of your apartment. He comes storming in here at just after nine, screaming for heads. When poor Polly tells him that you'd quit, she escorted you off the property your last day, he starts tear
ing her a brand-new asshole.”
“Fuck, I'm sorry about that,” Andrea groans, closing her eyes. “Did he...?”
“No, Polly still has her job. Carl stepped up for her that much. Darren chewed Carl's ass pretty hard right there in the middle of the floor, too. He said that you didn't quit, that you're fired for cause, and he's going to demand HR change your status too. A lot of cursing, I didn't know people who wore suits like that knew so many variations of the word fuck before.”
“Yeah, my father's pretty fluent in fuck-in-ese,” Andrea rumbles. “So, what's the fallout?”
“Your father pissed off nearly everyone in the building with his rant,” Harry says. “My guess is that it's going to boomerang on him. Right now, a lot of people are scared, running for cover, but I've already had three people say that what he did was wrong. Carl's a good guy and a damn fine editor. To curse him out like a little bitch like he did... and then that grade school shit about you didn't quit, you got fired... no, your father hurt himself with that tantrum.”
“I'm not that upset about it,” Andrea says, opening her eyes and looking at me. “What do you say, Joey?”
“I say fuck 'em, the man wants to cut his own throat go right ahead,” I comment, coming the rest of the way over and sitting down. “You don't need Darren anymore.”
“Hey, is that really Joey Rivera? Wow, big fan, man,” Harry says on the other end of the line. “That's my point of view too, by the way. Listen, don't worry about Darren. I talked with a friend in HR right before I called you, he said that Darren doesn't know shit about HR law or procedures. Not only is what he's demanding illegal as shit, but he wouldn't know how to do it anyway. They won't do a damn thing.”
“Tell them thank you,” Andrea says, shaking her head. “How'd I miss him being so petty?”
“We're often blind when it comes to family, 'Dre. Hey, I've gotta get going, I just wanted to give you a heads up, and to tell you that literally, every person I've talked to has said they've got your back. I told them I'd pass it along, just to keep you safe.”
Andrea's got tears in her eyes, and I can understand. I speak up. “Harry, I don't think you need to put yourself at this much risk. Are you sure?”
“Hey, when he went off about 'that dirty fucking bean eater,' I was having flashbacks to some of the stupid shit I heard as the only black kid in my high school in Utah. So yeah... I'm totally sure, and so is everyone else. I’ve gotta go for now. Take care.”
The phone goes dead, and Andrea's openly crying now, wiping at her eyes. Rocky gives her a pat on the back before leaving us alone, and I take her hand, enveloping her in a hug. “I swear Andrea, you are safe and I will always be here for you.”
We hold each other for a minute or two until Andrea steps back, wiping away the last of the tears. “I love you, Joey. For now, though, let's go show the world how awesome Cora and Rocky are. I should be able to get enough to put together some awesome stuff tonight.”
“George T loves your work,” James says as he sits in the living room, looking around. Maria brings him a cup of coffee which he accepts gratefully, his eyes flickering over Maria for a moment before turning away. I don't fault him for it, he's single, Maria's nineteen, and she's still in the prime of her youthful loveliness in my opinion. Then again, she's my little sister, I'm always going to think she's beautiful.
“I'm glad to hear it James, but you didn't need to come over here just to tell us that,” I comment, sitting next to Andrea as she takes her laptop back after showing James the latest stuff that she's prepped for upload to the band's website.
“You're right, I didn't,” James says, sipping the coffee. “Maria, thank you. It's delicious.”
“You're welcome. I'll give you guys some privacy if you like. Angel and I are working on some reading lessons anyway. Take care.”
Maria leaves, James watching before he turns back and sets the cup down. “Okay, I didn't want to say it with your family around, so do you mind if we take a walk? Backyard even?”
I glance at Andrea, who nods, and we get up, leading James onto the back patio where we close the door. James looks around and nods in approval. “Nice back yard. Anyway, Joey, this is more you than Andrea, but it involves Darren Coates. I figured you both needed to hear it.”
“What's going on?” I ask, Andrea nodding in echo. James sighs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the November wind is brisk today. I've gotten used to wearing sweatshirts almost all the time, or jackets if I know I'm going someplace that will be warm inside.
“Darren… well, he's got his fingers in with some of the trash tabloids,” James says, shaking his head in disgust. “Anyway, after what happened earlier this week that you guys told me about, apparently, he's having some of those shitstains go after you, Joey.”
“What are they trying to say?” I ask. “I mean, I'm no choir boy, but I've never been arrested. I'm boring as hell for the most part tabloid-wise.”
“You're right, George T ran a full background on you before he called me up on this. He's getting personally involved, he's pissed. Basically, Darren told his tabloids to start spreading the rumor that... well, that you're an illegal alien.”
“What?” I ask, more shocked at the stupidity than the actual accusation itself. “James, that has to be the stupidest way to try and get at me... for fuck's sake, I was born in the Naval hospital on Camp Pendleton! Mama was born in San Juan, and Papa was born in New York!”
James nods, sighing again. “Hell, I know that. George T showed me your birth certificate, at least the publicly available one. The bullshit that Darren's putting out is that it was forged. But, George is already all over it. He already directed the legal team, not for Gashouse but his legal team, to ready a response. He's also got the PR team going overtime. Seems that the label's sort of overlooked until now that your father was a hero, I think they were worried that if they made an issue about it, you'd feel like they were milking a tragedy for dollars. But regardless of what else might happen, going after the son of a Silver Star hero is a stupid fucking move. George T has your back, and he's a powerful man to have in your corner.”
I nod, slightly shaken, but grateful. “Thanks, James. I'll need to tell Mama, but thank you. Pass it along to George too.”
“He’ll appreciate it. He had a suggestion that, regardless of whether this shit with Darren continues or not, is interesting. George knows some of the people in the area, and I already checked, Pendleton's booked... but what about you guys playing the Marine Corps Birthday Ball at Twenty-Nine Palms? It's short notice, but you guys could do a low key set easily, right?”
I think about it, then nod. “I think I'd like that. Tell George I'll talk it over with the guys. Even if I have to, maybe I'll play it solo if the guys can't or don't want to.”
James grins. “They'd like some of those songs you've been working on. Think you can figure out an electric guitar version of Halls of Montezuma?”
“It's actually officially called the Marine Corps Hymn, but yeah, I can play that,” I reply, nodding again. For some reason, the idea fills me with energy and strength, and I enjoy the thought. “I worked out how to do that years ago on the tenth anniversary of Papa's death. Thanks, James.”
After James leaves, I stay outside, watching the sky. Andrea stays next to me. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. Thinking about all this, the good and the bad... gimme a few moments? Then, well... I was thinking I'd like to hit the gym. You want to come with?”
“I'd like that. I'll go change,” Andrea says. She leaves, and I watch the sky, the wind pulling the clouds quickly from my right to my left until I feel a presence behind me, and I turn to see Mama looking at me with those dark, sad eyes of hers.
“Andrea told me what James said. I am proud of your reaction, hijo.”
“Thank you, Mama. I just... right now, there's a deep anger inside me, and I don't know how to get rid of it. I'm hoping that the gym will help me control it.”
Mama
nods, coming over to stand next to me and watch the sky. “You know, Tomás had the same anger. When he first got posted to Camp Pendleton, before you were born, we were so young. He was just a Lance Corporal at the time, and his platoon sergeant was one of those old-style Marines. I wouldn't call him racist, he was just a pendejo to everyone.”
I chuckle, nodding. Even though I was less than ten years old, I remember a few of the Marines Papa served with. Some of them were hardly gentlemen. “I'm sure that made Papa angry enough to want to scream.”
“There were so many nights Tomás would come home, fuming. Gunny Allen this, Gunny Allen that. It seemed not a week would go by without Allen saying something that pissed off Tomás. But, he knew that if he did anything, Allen wouldn't hesitate to bust him and throw him in the brig. I got pregnant with you about that time, and Tomás, he was like you, a real man, verdad macho. So, he dealt with it, but the one thing Tomás never did was pop Gunny Allen in the mouth. Although Allen did get what was coming to him eventually.”
“Oh? What happened?” I ask, and Mama chuckles.
“It seems that Gunny Allen was as free with his foul mouth against black Marines as he was against Chicano Marines. One night, Allen found himself on the receiving end of a sleeping bag beat down out in the field. Afterward, not a single Marine in the entire platoon knew what the hell Allen was talking about. But Tomás bore the anger and the frustration, never raising a voice to me. If you need to work off some anger, do so. I trust your ability to direct the anger where it needs to go. Tomás never did as well on the PT test as he did during those years with Gunny Allen making him angry so often.”
Mama's quiet little story about Papa makes me think. She doesn't talk about him much, and when she does, it's with love and affection. To hear her talk about Papa going through some of the same challenges I'm facing now, and for Papa to come through it with his honor and his strength intact, it feels like a little bit of wisdom passed down father to son, even if it must come from my mother. If Tomás Rivera can do it if he can direct his anger safely... I can do it too.
