“Remember, you’re writing this for Brand. You ruin his reputation and he’ll never get taken seriously in this business ever again. No rock band is ever going to let him interview them.”
“Oh man...”
“You know, you don’t have to do this.”
“But I do. It means everything to Brand. It’s the least I can do.”
“Really? Because it’s starting to sound like the very most you can do!”
“Whatever. If you’re not going to support me on this, just let me be, will you?”
“Not a problem. I’ve already forgotten about it.”
“Hey guys look,” a voice says from behind us. “It’s the traitorous bitch with the backstage passes!” Standing a few feet away are a couple of Lunatics with murder in their eyes. I am so glad we’re in a public place.
“Hey look, we don’t want any trouble guys...” I say.
“Why don’t you share the wealth then?” says a tall redhead with a nasty look on her face. She must be close to six feet tall and not at all skinny. For a girl, she’s sporting a pair of pretty substantial guns.
“Look,” I begin, “I didn’t ask for any passes, they were given to me without me knowing anything about it. I have a friend who is dying in the hospital because of people like you Lunatics, and all I am trying to do is finish what he started! It was his dream to write about Fringe’s guitarist and get published in Guitar Player. I am only trying to make that dream come true for him. I only hope that if it does get published, he’ll be alive to enjoy it, so get the fuck out of my face!”
I can’t help myself now. I am screaming at the top of my lungs, standing nose to nose with—well, nose to collar bone with—the redhead. The stunned look in her face is absolutely priceless. I keep my eyes fixed on hers as she leaves. Before the door shuts behind her, I have the satisfaction of seeing her break off the stare. I have a feeling that I’m not going to be having any more trouble from her and her friends anymore.
“Oh my god!” Gabby cries, “You did not just say tell Angela Blackthorne to fuck off!”
“Who is...? Oh my god. That wasn’t Angela, the former Jujitsu champion, Blackthorne?”
“Junie, that girl could tie you into a knot with her pinky!”
“Glad I didn’t recognize her before my little speech.”
“Why not? At least then you would’ve kept your mouth shut.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have had the satisfaction of telling off a martial arts expert, then.”
“You do like living dangerously, don’t you? You’re gonna need a bodyguard for the next show. But, holy smokes, I had no idea she was a fan of Fringe, did you?”
“Of course I did. That’s why I chose to put my life in danger by insulting a black belt.”
“You do realize I can’t be seen with you anymore right?”
“Hold that thought.” My phone is trilling away in my purse. I dig it out and see that it’s the hospital. My first thought is that I must have forgotten to put in my paperwork for my days off, then I remember Brand. “Hello?”
“June, is that you?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Judy. I’m the dayshift charge nurse. You left instructions to call you if there was a change with your friend Brand. He woke up today June. He came out of his coma. He wasn’t supposed to wake up, not with all the drugs he’s got on board. He nearly de-intubated himself before the nurses got to him. At first he was pretty confused, but he seems totally lucid now. Except for the fact that he doesn’t remember a thing about the attack, which is normal.”
I find that I can’t force words out of my mouth.
“June, is everything alright?” Gabby asks, waving her hand around in my face trying to get my attention.
I cover the phone with my hand and say, “Brand woke up.”
“But I thought he was supposed to stay in a coma for at least two more weeks!”
“I know. But he just...woke up.”
“June, you still there?” asks Judy.
“Sorry, yeah I’m here.”
“Well he’s been asking for you. I’m so sorry no one has called you before now.”
I am so flabbergasted that I’m having a hard time coming up with something halfway intelligent to say. “Of course I’ll come to see him. Please, tell him there was a SNAFU and I didn’t get notified until now, so he won’t think I’ve given up on him.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, June. I’ll talk to him myself. Drive safe.”
“Thanks so much Judy,” I say, and hang up the phone.
Gabby is looking at me expectantly. “Well?”
“It looks like he’s going to be okay. In time. I have to go see him, right away.”
“Of course. You know I can come back with you if need the support.”
“That’s okay. You have your fun. Who knows, I may join you down the road.”
We say our goodbyes and I hustle back to the hotel to catch some sleep before morning. By the time I get back to my room my eyes are half-mast. The moment my head hits the pillow, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
The Bad Girlfriend
“Junie, you awake?”
A familiar voice pulls me back from the warmth of dreamland to the cold reality of the real world. I stretch, roll over, and nearly jump out of my skin. Wrapping the sheets around my shoulders, I wiggle away from Silas Mann, the rock star who’s going to ruin my love life.
“Why are you looking at me like that, June?” he asks.
“What are you doing in my hotel room? What are you doing in my bed?”
“What are you talking about? We’re in my hotel room. You came over and woke me up at two in the morning.”
That’s not right. This doesn’t make sense. I went to my room right after I left Gabby at the restaurant. I went to bed planning on getting up at six to go and see my boyfriend. I should not be in bed with the enemy.
“You okay June?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask him. “I left Gabby at the restaurant and went straight to Horizon Motor Lodge.”
“Well, if you did that Junie, how would I be in your hotel room? You certainly did not give me your room key.”
“You could have charmed the front desk into giving you my room key.”
“Are you kidding me? That kind of thing not only gets people fired, it gets people thrown in jail and hotels sued for all their worth.”
“Then how did you get in?”
“It’s my own damned room June!” Silas finally loses his temper. It’s the first time I have seen him upset, and it takes me off guard. If I’m really in his room, I must have been a lot more tired than I thought. I really gotta get out of here. Here I’m off to see my boyfriend, and I’m in bed with another man—one who Brand intends to ruin.
Silas moves over so that the only way I can keep from touching him is by falling off the side of the bed. I put my hands on his exposed chest to push him away ,but he grabs my wrists and pulls me into his embrace. I realize, as my breasts billow up against his smooth chest, that I am completely naked. I never go to sleep naked!
My heart starts to pound against his chest. His touch feels so good, I just can’t help myself. I have to give in to him. I shiver as his lips work their way up my neck, then to my mouth. Suddenly, we’re kissing fervently—like this is the last time we’ll ever be in this position. It is the last time we’ll ever do this. I have a boyfriend in the hospital, and I have to go to him, now!
“June?” Silas breathes into my ear, “June?”
An incredibly loud clanging sound interrupts us. Silas freezes mid-kiss and rolls out of bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows, and my alarm clock tells me it’s almost eight. I must have been hitting the snooze button. I look around for signs that Silas is still here when I suddenly realize I’m in my own hotel room and not his. I untangle myself from my sheets and breathe a sigh of relief. I’m wearing a gown. It was just a dream.
I scramble out of bed and start throwing my things into my suitcase. Twenty minutes later I’m sipping my Starbucks and heading back to my boyfriend, who has made a miraculous recovery. I wish I could say I’m looking forward to seeing him again, but I can’t. I’m terrified he’ll know right away I have cheated on him with Silas.
As I speed along, I try to think of what to tell Brand. I know lots of people end up telling their partners when they cheat because the guilt eats them up. I hate when I hear stories about it because it’s such a selfish move. All it does is ruin the relationship and hurt the innocent one that got cheated on. I can’t think of any reason why I should tell Brand about my indiscretion. I doubt he’ll ever see Silas and the band again, so I don’t think I have to worry about Silas spilling the beans to him. But I feel like shit.
Seven hours later as I’m exiting the freeway, I have not figured out what to say. I’ll just have to wing it. But do I really want to stay with Brand? I don’t know. The more I’m around Silas, the more I find myself drawn to him. It’s like some kind of compulsion or something. I don’t know if I can resist—if I even want to resist. I’m just going to have to stop going to Fringe shows. It’s the only way I can be sure I’ll stay away from him. There, problem solved.
~~~
“You what?” I’m perched on the edge of Brand’s bed with my mouth hanging open. He has just brandished a pair of backstage passes and tickets to the final Fringe show in Los Angeles. I’m torn between what I still feel for Brand and my obsession with Silas. I don’t know if Brand can tell anything is wrong. He is still recovering. And yet he’s planning to go to the show in LA in five days. “Are you sure you’re up to it?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Besides, I’ll have my favorite nurse with me.”
“Silas, I really don’t know if it’s the best idea—”
“What did you just call me, June?”
“...Huh?”
“You just called me Silas. Why did you call me Silas?”
“Slip of the tongue, nothing more.”
“More like Freudian slip. Why did you call me Silas? Have you been hanging around him?”
“Fringe is my favorite band...”
“Why didn’t you accidentally call me Hammer or Lance or Marcus...?” he trails off, clearly troubled, and changes the subject. “Hey you know that huge hospital bill I’ve been racking up?”
“Sure.”
“Well, someone’s up and paid it. Plus they’ve gone and donated another $10,000 into that fund you and Gabby set up for my bills. Who would do such a thing? Was it Fringe? They’d have that kind of money, wouldn’t they?”
“I’m sure they do...”
“What’s wrong June? You’re distracted. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just surprised to see you even awake, much less considering driving eight hours to see a metal show.”
“Oh I won’t be driving, you will. Being my nurse and all.”
“If you’re dead set on going, I guess there’s nothing I can really do.”
“No, there’s nothing at all. I have to go June. I really need to finish my article for the magazine and I’m running out of time. That’s the reason I’m going. You understand that right?”
Oh, I understand alright. If I told him I already had the dirt, I wonder if he would change his mind. I can’t tell him though. I think he’s suspicious, and if I told him I hung out with the band and interviewed them he may guess that there’s something going on between me and Silas. I can’t do that to him.
“Earth to June. June, anybody home in there?” Brand asks.
“Sorry. I barely got to sleep last night and drove all day today. I’m wrecked.”
“Sorry June, I forgot about that. I’m so happy to see you I totally forgot you just drove up from San Diego. You really should go home and get some sleep. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going anywhere.”
I get up from the bed and give him a peck on the cheek. “Yeah, you’re right. I really should get some sleep. I’m toast. I feel like I can sleep for a week.”
We say our goodbyes and I slink away feeling like the world’s worst girlfriend. Do I really want to stay with Brand? Do I want to end up with Silas? He’s a rock star, and he has no place in my life. He doesn’t fit. Brand, he fits, but the passion isn’t there. I mean, I’m attracted to him and all, and I’m sure he would be fine in bed, but somehow I feel like if I stay with him I’m with him by default, rather than because I picked him as my first choice.
When I get home I head straight for my bed. I’ll just take a quick nap, and when I wake up refreshed I’ll be able to think clearer. Maybe then I can make some decisions about my life. A life that is getting more and more complicated by the day.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’ve Been Hacked!”
After leaving Brand’s side, I’m fully prepared to never go to another Fringe show again as long as I live. My focus is on my work and being a good girlfriend. Brand has suffered a set-back: he’s come down with pneumonia. I’ve given him the summary of all the info I gathered about Silas and the band. I had to. There is no way he was going to get down there to do his own investigating. Bands don’t trust rock writers like they trust rock girlfriends.
Brand submitted his article just before the contest cut off at midnight last night. Now I’m laying low and waiting for the decision to be made. I really want him to win, but a part of me...a very teeny tiny part of me doesn’t want him to win cause it’s gonna cause a shit storm for Silas. And for me. It could be really bad.
I know a lot of Lunatics, and they know me—where I work, maybe even where I live thanks to the unwavering candor of my confessions of a Lunatic blog. I could have Lunatics all over the hospital stirring up crap. They’re not the most stable music fans out there. Shit storm is the perfect word for what’s gonna happen to me and Silas if that article ever sees the light of day.
~~~
“No. I will absolutely not do it. No,” says Cory Ellis, a paramedic I know who just happens to be an amazing hacker and knows just about everything there is to know about computer operating systems and writing code.
“Please…” I beg him, “If you could just retrieve this entry for me and destroy it—”
“No way June. As much as I like Fringe, I just cannot do it.”
“Come on. I thought you were really good with computers and stuff.”
“Sure. Ferreting out passwords is my thing. It would take all of five minutes.”
“Cory, if he wins, Fringe is gonna be ruined. My life is gonna be ruined!”
He takes the computer from my arms and sighs. “You’re a really bad girlfriend. You know that right? Stealing your boyfriend’s password and sabotaging his contest entry...That’s some dark shit June, some very dark shit.”
“Hey, I don’t need you to be my conscious. Just, can you do? Will you do it?”
He sits down at an empty booth at Barney’s Hamburgers and opens the lid. “I’m only doing this because I think you’re right. This would cause a huge shit storm for you and I don’t want to go to a call one day where you’ve been shot by one of your fellow Lunatics.”
“So, I should pick it up next week then?” I ask him, not sure I should be interrupting him. Suddenly he turns my computer around. Brand’s Gmail account is open and waiting. He’s already got it set up so all I have to do is write and hit send. “Oh my gosh Cory, that was so fast! What was his password?”
“Ah...can’t tell you. It’s bad enough that I know it now. The fewer people who know it the better. In fact, at some point you might bring up passwords in conversation and see if you can’t get him to change his to something not so ridiculously easy.”
“Okay okay, I got this,” I say, bracing myself to write the inevitable letter.
Dear Guitar Player Magazine,
I wish to retract my entry to the Get the Dirt contest. I have recently discovered that my allegations were unfounded.
I hit send.
“All
better?” Cory asks.
“All better,” I say.
“Great. Resist the temptation to start reading his emails.”
“I wouldn’t have ever given that a second thought, but now I’m gonna be obsessing over it.”
“Do I need to take your computer until he changes his password?”
“I’ll be fine. I really have no desire sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Well, except for this one time.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head home to get some sleep. I need a day or two to set my resolve firmly. Only when I can look Brand straight in the eyes without a guilty conscious will I be able to go visit again.
~~~
I schedule a short visit with Brand late Friday night, just in case I get cold feet. He’s wide awake when I come in, and has a computer on his lap. He’s still pretty pale, but he looks much better than he did three days ago.
“How’s my favorite patient?” I ask.
“Great now,” he smiles. “You’re not going to believe what happened!”
“What happened sweetie?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked.
“Someone hacked my Gmail account.”
I act appropriately shocked. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” he exclaims. “You’ll never believe what they did. They sent an email impersonating me, saying they were retracting my Get the Dirt story submission. And get this, the idiots couldn’t spell and their grammar was so crappy it’s what clued the magazine in. They knew it couldn’t have been me who sent the email. It was some idiot Lunatic I’m sure.”
“Well they were probably in a hurry. That’s why the grammar wasn’t perfect.” I’m getting defensive in spite of myself.
“You okay June? You’re acting kinda weird all of a sudden.”
“Yeah I’m okay. I just can’t believe someone would do that.”
“Yeah, me either. It had to be a Lunatic right?”
“Too bad they can’t trace it and find out who did it.”
Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) Page 12
