I could've said no but I was sick of drinking alone.
So, the car was still parked in the city somewhere – I’d have to see if Hannah could organise someone to pick it up – and I was in the airport with a monster hangover. I walked over to the bar to pour another drink. A woman looked at me like she couldn't quite place who I was. She was about to ask but I grabbed my drink and rushed back to my seat in the corner.
This tour was not where I wanted to be. I hated it. I hated this lifestyle and I hated the travel. There was only one thing that made it worthwhile. The moment I walked out on that stage and started playing, I loved it. I was exactly where I wanted to be. The cheers of the crowd lifted me up and made me become more than I ever could be on my own. That's how Ruby made me feel every day when I was with her too. Perhaps that's all I was – an empty vessel that needed something to fill it. Hell, thoughts like that were too philosophical for early in the morning. Well, afternoon. I gulped my drink down, waiting for my thoughts to dull.
"There you are. God, Tex, I've been rushing around the place looking for you." Hannah picked up my glass and sniffed it. "A bit early in the day for that, isn't it. Let me get you an orange juice instead."
"I don't think so." I gave her my “don't fuck with me” look.
Brownie and Devon trailed along behind her. Brownie still wasn't cool with me but if his bloody girlfriend hadn't started all that trouble, Ruby would still be with me. I just knew that. He'd wanted to bring her on tour but I'd told him no. And that was me being bloody-minded. If I couldn't have Ruby with me, why should she join us?
I'd been so proud of Ruby sticking up for herself at the time. Not letting that bitch walk all over her with her ugly words. But it seemed to have stirred something up inside her. Or maybe that had been the shrink or the meds.
The four of us sat at a table, barely talking. Brownie spent the whole time on his phone, texting or playing a game or some shit. Devon stretched out in his seat, sunglasses on, asleep. And I drank.
God, I hated airports. There was just too much emotion floating around. I did Ruby's trick and got out my noise cancelling headphones and blocked out the world until it was time to get on the flight.
From the first, things went wrong at the festival. Daryl, the organiser, was a douche and I wanted to punch him. He ran around like a kid with ADD, firing questions and not waiting for us to answer. He took us over to a big marque thing that had been set up for us. Well, half set up. They were still working on it when we got there. The whole festival looked a mess. No organisation, nothing set up properly. Not even any drinks in the cooler. I hated that kind of nightmare.
"Where are our bloody drinks?"
Daryl ran off again.
The sound check went shit. There was some kind of weird feedback coming through the speakers. We stopped playing and asked them to fix it.
"None of the other bands complained about it," the sound engineer said.
"Well, we're not other bands," Devon replied, hands on hips.
He sounded like a wanker but I was glad he said that so I didn't have to. Just because other bands were too piss weak to complain didn't mean the sound guy would get an easy ride with us.
"Get it fixed or we'll get in our own engineer for our set," I added. "We're going to have a break. Work it out before we get back."
When we got back to our tent, Daryl came running over. Brownie sat in the corner, still on his phone while I dealt the douche.
"What's this I hear about a problem with your sound? You can't get in your own engineer. We have a contract with these guys. You need to find a way to work with them." He flapped his arms around as though he was swatting flies and I'm pretty sure his voice went up a register as he talked.
"They need to find a way to fix the issue. You should be working on that instead of pestering us. If we have a problem, all the bands will."
At least the cooler had been filled. I got out a beer. I was in no mood for dealing with this shit. At least Daryl ran off to sort out the issue. We didn't see him again.
When we got back to the hotel, I told the guys I wanted to change the set list. It'd not even registered with me until the sound check but I had to change it.
"We can't play Ruby Red," I said.
"Shit, man, you made me rehearse the fuck out of that song and now you want to drop it? No way," Devon said. "If you're having a tiff with your girlfriend, sort it out instead of screwing us around.”
Devon sprawled in my room with his feet up on the coffee table. I knocked his legs so his feet fell to the floor.
"If I say we can't do it, we can't do it."
"We don't have another song we can swap with it," said Brownie. "Nothing that would work in that spot. Any other slow song we've got, we haven't rehearsed. It'll be a real balls-up if we change the set now."
I suggested a few songs but they shot me down. I knew the band was a democracy but it was a democracy ruled by me, with me having the ultimate say.
But in the end I had to back down. I kicked them out of my room and had an early night. Even managed to sleep without the booze.
The festival went well the next day. It wasn't the shambles I'd expected from Daryl's lack of organisational skills. The three of us made it through the day without trying to kill each other and, by the time I got on stage, I was pumped. I walked on with the lights in my eyes and the screams of thousands in my ears. I still had it. Even the smell of the festival didn't bug me – cheap booze and pot and sunscreen, with a hint of vomit. Fun times.
We powered into our first song, the crowd's energy lifting me up like always. I grinned, knowing I owned that stage. Devon was in form, anticipating my moves without even a signal from me. When he was on, he could really play. It's just that his head was up his arse most of the time.
I got into that space that I knew made for the best shows. I floated on a cloud. The three of us playing together, not much was better when it worked.
Then we got to that song. I could do it. I was a professional. I could sing those words without any mental connection. A love song for a woman I couldn't even talk to. They were just words. I stared at the sound tower shutting my mind down. If I put the feeling into this song that I'd written it with, I'd fall into a heap but if I skimmed across the surface of it, I could do it.
I started fine, powering through the lyrics without a worry. Then I got to the chorus. The chorus that was an outpouring of my feelings. The words ripped from the pits of my heart. I wanted to sing this song for Ruby not for anyone else. I shouldn't have included it. It was a mistake.
I should've insisted on something else.
My throat closed up like it'd been jammed full of cotton wool. My whole body wracked with pain.
I stopped.
Devon and Brownie kept playing for a few seconds before they realised. Devon turned to me with a look of disgust. But a man can only handle so much.
Silence is the most dangerous thing when you're on stage and silence was all I had. I stood in the middle of the stage, staring out into the lights. Despite the crowd in front of me, it was all just emptiness. No sound, no movement, as though every single person at that festival held their breath, waiting for words that I couldn't sing. The dream came crashing down and I didn't have the strength to recover it. Just a wrecked man on stage, in that moment, I could see how this would end.
Then I heard the opening bass riff of the next song. It didn't sound like much but it was sound. Something filling the silence. Brownie picked up on drums and the two of them played. Devon tried to catch my eye then grabbed his mic and took up the singing. He sounded rough but it fit the music.
I got myself back in there, at least on guitar. The music was the most important thing. I couldn't let myself get distracted. I had to finish this set, no matter what. My pain could take a back seat. I was there to entertain.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - RUBY
I'd been called in for another meeting with Jerkface. A "special" meeting. I had no idea what this one was about
. It wasn't time for our regular get together so it was probably some stupid excuse for Jerkface to annoy me.
I arrived at the working space and realised I was early. Jeremy wasn’t around and some other people filled the meeting room. Luckily, I checked before walking in. I grabbed a coffee and sat at a table in the communal area.
Lately, I'd been feeling really good about life. I could actually sit in a room with people and not have a meltdown. That was surely a huge step forward. I'd have to tell Sheryl about that. Maybe, in some ways, it'd be nice working in a space with other people. If they were all working on their own projects and not bugging me. Not talking or being painful.
Sheryl had been trying to convince me that I shouldn't judge people by assuming that they'd annoy me before I even spoke to them. Had she met people? Still, the ones at the co-working space all seemed absorbed in their work rather than chatting.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep working for Alex Feng after my six month contract ended. I enjoyed the work but, since being on this project, I realised I had more capability than I'd ever realised. I had been so lost in self-doubt and fears that I'd boxed myself in. Maybe I should start thinking about the projects I wanted to achieve for myself. I could create my own stuff and even outsource work. Being my own boss and having people work for me would be better than being in a team because I'd be in control. I'd still have to deal with them but I could do it on my own terms. That's what people had tried to tell me but I'd not seen it before.
I opened up my laptop and made some notes, getting lost in my own world until I looked up and saw Jerkface Jeremy standing over me.
"Ah, there you are," he said without smiling. "Let's move into the meeting room, shall we?"
I packed up my stuff and followed him. I sat down at the meeting table but Jerkface still didn't smile. What the hell was that guy's problem? He went from being painfully perky to being a sad sack.
"I don't think it will come as a surprise to you that we've had some concerns with your work."
The back of my neck prickled. This didn’t seem good. My first instinct was to flee. Make some excuse and run for it. But I couldn't. Jerkface sat between me and the door. I'd have to squeeze past him to get out. That would just end up being humiliating.
I didn't say anything, just picked at the edge of my bag, waiting for him to continue.
"We've had a few careless errors that we've let slip."
"But I didn't..."
I couldn't continue, not with his smug face instantly dismissing anything I said. Why was he saying "we" when he meant me? A huge crash was coming, as though in slow motion, and I could only watch it, without preventing it in any way.
But I was prepared for this. I had printouts of the server logs. Everything time stamped. I wouldn't fall into their trap. Only, I didn't have them with me. Having this sprung on me, I didn't know what to say. A heavy weight pressed on my chest and my brain spun in circles.
"You must've known that some of your behaviour hasn't been acceptable. I know you like to think of yourself as a bit of a ‘lone wolf’, so to speak, but there are ways of operating when you work with other people."
I kept staring at him. He had to be kidding. He thought I was doing this on purpose or something? Then I remembered I had some records on my laptop.
"It's not true. I have stuff. On here. On my laptop. I can show you the thing...” My words weren't coming out right. "And printouts... at home..."
"That's not relevant." He waved his hand to dismiss what I said.
If I could get the words out, say what I needed to say confidently, then he might listen to me but my thoughts heaved and spewed around in my brain so I couldn't sort them out. It was like trying to talk in a foreign language. Instead, I just stared at him. He had a point to this conversation and I wished he'd get to it so I could leave this stuffy room and get into the fresh air.
"There's also been another incident come up. Something a bit more serious, I'm afraid. We have had other developers working on this project and some of the work you've uploaded has been remarkably similar to theirs. We didn't say anything earlier because we didn't want to voice unproven suspicions but we gave another one of our developers the same spec to work on and, I'm afraid, it doesn't look good."
"Chris David?" The pain in my chest got worse. They'd set me up.
"So, you admit that you knew of his work?"
This wasn't happening. It wasn't. I couldn't go through this again. Like a hell that was set to repeat eternally. I tried to inhale, deep breaths like Sheryl had told me but it was like the air didn't get to my lungs. The light in the room was too strong for my eyes and I just needed to be anywhere but there.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself? I know Alex has been championing you but I'm afraid I'll have to take this to him."
"Can't you check the logs?" I managed to gasp out. I had no idea how Chris had done this but he had targeted me again. I had proof though. "I've got stuff at home... let me send it to you.
"Is that all you have to say? Those kinds of things can be manipulated. Why would you even keep records if you weren't up to something? I'm not sure what you are playing at but my recommendation will be instant dismissal. Is there anything you have to say for yourself? If you've been under some kind of pressure or if the job is too difficult for you, you should've let me know. We are here to help you."
That was the last straw. Here to help me? What a crock of shit. They were condemning me. I hated them. Nothing I'd say now would do me any good.
I grabbed my laptop and tried to escape. As I squeezed past Jerkface to get out of the room, the strap of my laptop bag got twisted on the back of his chair. I pulled at my bag but it wouldn't give. I had to reach out, almost touching him to get it free.
As I worked to untangle it, a sob escaped from me before I could stop myself.
"Women. Too damn emotional to work in IT."
He actually said that. I yanked hard on the strap and fled from the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – TEX
The second city looked no different to the first. We arrived, getting a glimpse of things as the car sped to our hotel. We sound checked, with a competent sound guy at least, then went back to the hotel to wait it out. That night, Devon wanted to go to a party. I'd have been happy just sitting in my room brooding. My capacity for brooding had been increasing lately. He stood in my room, blocking the TV and nagging me.
"It's just a party for the bands. Stop being such a sad bastard and come with me. The place’ll be crawling with groupies. Best way to forget one chick is to find another."
I knocked him up against the wall for saying that.
"Just kidding. You can be my wingman if you're so keen on being faithful. What are you going to do otherwise? It's a pathetic man who sits around drinking on his own." He sat down on the sofa with his foot up on his knee. "Hey, your room is much nicer than mine. Want to swap? It seems a waste when you won't be bringing chicks back here. You've got no one to impress."
In the end, I agreed to go just to shut him up. The party was at a local bar. I hadn't been to anything like that for years and had forgotten how much I hated it. Hangers-on wanting to talk your ears off over the loud music and semi-famous dipshits preening around. The dark, dingy rooms and the smell of despair. The music was too loud or maybe I was just too old.
I propped myself up at the corner of the bar, not making contact with anyone but the barman when I wanted another drink. Devon disappeared the moment we got in the door. I looked around, wondering if I should just leave. I could be back in my room with the full room service menu at my disposal.
Then I saw him. That fat sack of lard.
The blood boiled up as though my body was inadequate to contain my rage. I'd sworn if I ever saw that ball sack again, I'd smash him to a pulp so that not even his mother would recognise him. If he even had a mother and hadn't crawled out of some primal swamp.
I wanted to be sure it was actually him before I did anything though, s
o I found Devon and pulled him off the chick he was dry humping against the wall.
"What the fuck, Tex. Seriously, what the fuck is with the cock blocking?"
I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face the crowd.
"That's him, isn't it? Over there, near the door?"
Devon gave a half-hearted glance around the room, about to squirm out of my grasp, when he spotted him.
"That's the fucker. Let's screw his shit up."
That fat fucker had been the one to give Julie the drugs the night she overdosed. I thought he'd gone underground but turds float and he'd sure risen in the wrong spot. If he thought moving cities would be enough, he was about to realise his mistake.
"Hold my beer," Devon said to his chick.
The two of us stormed through the room, grabbing that shit. One of us on each arm, dragging him out the door to the alley.
“What's going on? There's a mistake..." He kicked and screamed but no one stopped us from dragging him out.
Before he could say anything, I smashed him against a metal skip. As he fell to the ground, Devon stuck the boots into him. Then Devon dragged him up to his feet so I could punch him again. The punches flew. I wasn't sure what I was doing but I wanted to kill the fucker. Nothing else mattered but obliterating his face from this world. He cried and whimpered and pleaded for mercy. That just made me smash into him more.
Every punch was for Julie. Nothing else in the world mattered but getting revenge on this fucker who'd killed my sister. He'd given her the drugs then left her alone to die.
Every time his head hit the skip, the sound rang out in the alley, mixing with his screams. With every punch, I thought of Julie drawing her last breath alone and struggling. That golden light in her dying out.
"Why did you do it?" I yelled at him. "Why did you even go near her?"
But he didn't answer, he just kept screaming.
Something inside me had exploded. Something that had been bottled up and festering for years. Even before she died, I hated seeing this guy around her. He was slime. A total creep.
Be With You Page 9
