Just gimme a sec, Storm.
It’s kinda unhealthy.
What?
You’re always with her, and when you’re not, you’re texting
her. I get that you’re in love and all that, but you really
should get a life.
I do have a life.
What about Trenton and Roman, your best friends?
What about ’em?
You never even see them.
What are you talking about? We went to see Giraffe
Tongue.
That was like a month ago.
Things change. I’m just into some different stuff.
Yeah, Chapel. It’s unhealthy the way you’re all up under
her. Be careful, Blade.
Whatever.
What about the band? I thought y’all were gonna record.
They’re more into punk now. I’m just—
Into soft rock—yeah, don’t remind me.
Anyway, what do you think about the dream?
Weird dream. You been smokin’?
No. What do you think it means?
No idea.
Seriously.
Look, some dreams don’t mean anything. They’re just
stupid.
Great, thanks, now get out.
Okay, how about this: The spider is Dad, and you think he
hates you and is trying to destroy your life, and Mom is the
only person who can save you, but she really can’t because,
you know, she’s dead, and so you stuff yourself with hordes
of unhealthy foods to hide the pain of whatever journey
you’re on.
Journey?
Yeah, “Don’t Stop Believin’” journey.
That’s deep, Storm. But journey where?
You tell me. It’s your dream, Spider-Man.
And, what about Mom?
Well, that’s easy. You miss her. We all do.
You think that’s it?
Nah, you were right. It’s ridiculous.
Thanks for nothing.
I changed my mind.
What?
Your room doesn’t stink. You do. Take a shower.
Knock, Knock
It’s been two days
since graduation.
Two days since I’ve
seen his face
or smelled the smell
of his rock & roll decay.
And he’s knocking,
knocking the heck
out of my door
like he does
when he has a “grand”
announcement.
But what does he
have to say to me this time?
What can we possibly
say to each other?
How do you forgive
a person who ruined
what was going to be
one of the best days of
your life?
I can’t imagine
what kind of peace
offering he’ll bring me.
Stop knocking, I finally say.
Just come in
or go away.
He walks in
and stands at
the foot of my bed,
his arms spread out
like a fallen angel.
Conversation
Blade . . . I’m sorry, son.
. . . .
I’m leaving for a month or so.
Okay.
Don’t you want to know where?
I don’t.
Rehab.
Surprise.
Got my Marvels and the axe. Ready to rock!
. . . .
I think the band’s really getting back together.
. . . .
Look, I’m sorry for what happened.
You think that’s enough?
It’s all I got.
I really don’t wanna talk. Good luck.
Watch out for your sister while I’m away.
Storm can take care of herself.
She’s fragile.
What does that mean?
It means her album tanked and she just needs some cheer.
Keep an eye on each other.
. . . .
I told her she could have a party. It’ll help.
Great.
I need you to be there.
Dude, I got a life. You’ve got your rock and roll and your
drugs and alcohol, Storm’s got her pretend career and—and
I’m heading to college in a few months, to get as far
away from here as possible. So, how about you guys help
yourselves.
How ’bout you stop acting like a JACK!
There’s the Rutherford I know. Welcome back.
I’m still your father.
Lucky me!
Pretty lucky, I’d say. Look around. Five-star living not
good enough for ya?
Money doesn’t buy happiness.
Yeah, but it bought you a pimped-out Range Rover that
you and your girl make out in. And, it paid for your posh
little private high school.
And the Harley you ruined my graduation with. Just get
out. I’m done. Good luck with rehab.
When the limo arrives
to take Dr. Feelgood
to rehab
he’s all crocodile tears.
They’re trying to take my edge. If I don’t make it back—
Stop, Daddy, you’ll be fine, Storm says.
And now she’s crying.
You can do this, Daddy! We’ll write kick-ass songs together
when you get back.
Rutherford looks at me. But I got nothing:
No empathy.
No sympathy
for
the devil.
Phone Conversation
Hey. Babe!
Yeah, hey.
Everything okay?
Sure.
You sure?
I’ve been better.
Why do you sound so salty?
Why do you think?
I’m sorry I couldn’t see you after graduation. And, I’m sorry
about what happened.
Just forget about it. I’m okay.
. . . .
Just wish things were different. That I was nobody in
Nobody’s Land.
Yeah.
So, what’s up?
What’s up is stay off social media and don’t—
Go to stores, look at newsstands, I know.
Yeah.
I won’t have to if we’re together.
Awww . . . I can’t right now, Blade.
Why? Come on, babe. Meet me at the park. I’ll take you
shopping or something in Rutherford’s Maserati.
You know I’d LOVE that, but my parents are throwing me
another dinner with friends tonight.
Tonight? That’s nice. How come I didn’t know?
I mean, it was kind of spur of the moment.
Who’s invited?
Just a couple girls . . . and some people, uh, friends. Just a
group of friends.
People like who? Van? Is Van going?
Blade, my parents told me to invite all my friends. You
know you would be the first person on my list if my parents
didn’t forbid me from seeing you.
But Van, really?
My Favorite Guitarist
Sometimes
when I feel
like time is
a speedway
and my mind
races
round and round
so fast,
I walk
the dogs
to clear
my head.
Then,
I go to
Santa Monica.
Soundboard
I walk
the boardwalk
looking for Rober
t,
a magician
who turns worries
into songs.
In between gigs
he sits
under a
palm tree, smiling
with the few teeth
he’s still got.
Tourists leave
green
in his black trumpet case,
while he
melts the blues,
bending the notes
like a storytelling machine,
and wailing
like the music’s
gonna save him,
and us too
if we’re lucky.
Conversation
Youngblood, you look like you got the blues.
Family stuff.
Yeah, how’s that?
Rutherford finally did it. Lived down to his expectations.
I hate Rutherford. I loathe everything he stands for.
Whoa . . . Take a breath, Youngblood.
He’s ruined everything in my life.
Everything? Sounds serious.
Graduation was a disaster to end all disasters.
How is that?
The one day I stand up to deliver a speech I wasn’t
even supposed to give in front of my entire class and
everybody’s grandmother, brother, and sister, Rutherford
flies in like an alien lunatic and embarrasses the life out
of me and everyone there. Even the crows were gawking
of embarrassment from the trees.
Sounds like a challenging moment.
I didn’t sign up for this circus.
None of us do. It’s family.
I just can’t wait to get outta here.
Be careful what you ask for. You can run, but you can’t hide.
You’re at the crossroads, Youngblood, looking for a ride.
One of your songs?
That’s life, son. Gotta be thankful for the hard and the
easy. The good and the not-so.
Hard to be thankful when you’re living in hell.
Let me get this straight. You’re living up in Hollywood
Hills with a pool and tennis court, and a lady to clean
your underwear and cook you tacos on Tuesdays, and
you’re living in hell. You got first world problems,
Youngblood.
. . . .
You can run, but you can’t hide. You can run, but you can’t
hide, you’re at the crossroads, Youngblood, looking for a ride.
Tell me something, Robert—why do you give all your
money away to homeless people?
So they can eat, buy a book or two.
But what about you?
What about me?
Couldn’t you use the loot?
A wise man said, “You will be enriched in every way to be
generous in every way,” so I’m good.
If you ever need a place to crash, we got plenty of space.
I try to avoid hell, Youngblood.
Look, here’s a little something for you, I say, handing
him a wad of hundreds.
I don’t do charity, Youngblood.
What happened to enriching and being generous?
You keep that, buy your girl some flowers or something.
You could get a new trumpet case or something, I add,
trying not to show what I’m really suggesting, but he
knows. Robert knows everything.
You still stunting on my teeth, Youngblood?
I’m just saying, it’s pretty cheap these days to get ’em
fixed.
In another life, my first wife wanted new teeth. She asked
all her friends and family for twenty-five dollars to help her
find her smile. I didn’t give her a dime. The marriage didn’t
last long, but good gracious did she get some pretty teeth.
Wanna play something?
I pick up my guitar.
He picks up his trumpet.
And when the song’s over,
and he’s not looking,
I throw my wad of cash
in his case
and hope he’s not mad
at me later.
Texts Conversation
11:14 am
Good morning, babe.
I miss you.
Guess what?
11:18 am
What’s up!
11:19 am
I got my assignment. My
dorm’s next to yours. WOOHOO!
Also, shopping today???
11:19 am
Hint. Hint. Wink. Wink.
You could pick me up
in your dad’s Maserati.
11:19 am
He won’t even know.
What time
should I be ready?
11:22 am
Oh . . .
Not sure
about today.
11:22 am
My parents are gone
all day. All night.
Their anniversary.
11:23 am
Wow. Good to hear
you have the day
open for me. Finally.
11:24 am
Blade!
Seriously?
What’s up with you?
11:25 am
It’s just kinda weird.
It seems all I’m good for
is buying stuff.
11:33 am
Hello, you there?
11:35 am
That was rude.
I can’t believe
you’d even suggest
11:35 am
something so shallow
and beneath my
goodness. You offered before
11:36 am
so I just thought.
Never mind . . . TTYL.
11:37 am
Chapel, I’m sorry.
My bad. I’m just not
myself right now.
11:40 am
You there?
Come back.
Voice Mail
Maybe tomorrow
we can cruise
to Malibu
have a picnic
by the sea.
I’ll even bring
my strings
and sing you
that graduation song.
Or we can feed
each other sorbet,
hit Rodeo Drive.
But only if
you forgive me . . .
Texts from Chapel
9:37 am
Okay. Morning!
I forgive you.
Get out of
9:37 am
your PJs pls and take
your girl for SORBETTTTTT
and Rodeo Drive!
Deliver Me
On my way
out the door
two delivery guys
show up
with a marble statue
of a naked goddess.
I cower.
I don’t belong here,
and the months-long
wait
’til college
is too long.
Can you deliver me
someplace else,
please . . . now? is what I want
to say
to them.
I sign
for the Goddess Lakshmi
while Storm
unpeels
the protective plastic
marches around
her marble legs
and marble breasts,
comparing her figure
to stone.
Her four hands represent the four goals of life, she says,
rubbing the breasts, as if they’ll bring her wisdom or luck.
Oh, okay. Thanks for sharing.
Dharma and Kama, and the other two I forgot.
So, what, are you practicing Hindu now?
She
’s the goddess of Wealth and Prosperity. Me and Dad
ordered her for my party.
. . . .
Isn’t she beautiful, Blade?
My sister is beautiful
but not in the way she thinks.
She’s beautiful because
she still believes
our father’s
her hero.
She trusts
in his dreams
for her.
She naively believes
she will be the next big thing
and that her position in life
is set in “stone.”
This makes me feel
sorry for her
because she’s clueless.
She picks up
Mick and Jagger
to celebrate the arrival
of yet another Morrison absurdity,
ceremoniously dancing
around the statue,
but the dogs get freaked out
by Lakshmi’s four arms
jump out of Storm’s
and smash
right into her,
sending the goddess
tumbling
off her base
and crashing
to the floor
shattering
Storm’s dreams
into a million little
marble pieces.
Phone Conversation
What’s taking you so long?
Had a minor emergency at our house. Leaving now,
babe.
Everything all right?
Is it ever?
We’re at Rudy’s
the best ice cream
in Hollywood,
and I’m telling her
how I honestly believe
my old man
could finally be changing
for the better
and that he swore
to us
he’d complete rehab—
no more drink
no more drugs—
when a white van
pulls up
and out jumps
fire-breathing paparazzi
with loaded cameras,
pushed into our faces.
How’s it hanging, Blade?
Doing great. Now leave us alone.
We just got word Rutherford’s back in rehab.
Yep.
Good to know he’s getting help. We want him to live. It
would be a rock-and-roll tragedy if . . .
Really. That’s enough.
We keep walking into Rudy’s.
But they follow us in like
hyenas laughing,
dragons stalking.
Did you think your life was over when your old man
crashed your graduation? He really knows how to liven up
an event, another one chimes in.
Does it look like I think my life is over? I come at them
with fists, but Chapel pulls me back.
Solo Page 4
