“Uh yeah, that’s Cole. He’s the lead singer for Generation Rejects. They’re a local band. Have you heard of them?” I asked, wishing we could change the subject.
“Can’t say that I have,” Theo said and there was a note in his voice that could only be construed as confused.
“They play at Barton’s a lot. Well, they did before they went on the road. This is where they got their start. Gracie and I are friends with Maysie, the drummer’s fiancée.” I was rambling. Why was I rambling?
“I take it you don’t like their music much,” Theo said, surprising me.
“Why would you say that? I like their music,” I argued.
Theo ate a fry from his plate and shrugged. “You just looked like you had sucked a lemon when that Cole guy was giving his interview. I guessed it was because you thought they sucked or something.”
I laughed lamely. “No, they’re fine.”
I had nothing to say after that. The earlier easy rapport that had been steadily building between us had flickered and died.
I hated how much power I allowed Cole to have, even when he was thousands of miles away and had no place in my world.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about what he was doing? Wondering what show they were playing tonight. I wanted to ask him about his interview and I wanted to know how he was holding up.
I quickly pulled money out of my purse and laid it on the bar. “I’ve got to get back to the office,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet.
Gracie and Dina, who were still discussing the finer points of Cole’s interview looked up as I made my excuses to leave.
“Okay. See you at home,” Gracie responded.
I turned to Theo and wished I didn’t feel so strange.
“I’ll see you later. I’ll call you to touch base later this week,” I said and I knew I was being distant. I didn’t want to be. But I felt I just needed to get out of there and deal with this lump in my chest.
Theo reached out and took my phone that I gripped tightly in my hand. He tapped on the screen for a minute and then handed it back to me.
I looked down at the screen and saw his name and cell phone number.
“That’s my cell. Not my office number. Call it when you want to take me up on dinner. I’m just going to put it out there, Vivian. I want to take you out. I want you to go on a date with me. So call me, please.” Theo was earnest and sincere and I wanted to say yes.
I really did.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
I gave him a small smile and nodded, not able to think of any adequate way to respond.
I was living the life. I had everything I wanted. I was the king of the fucking castle.
At least that’s what I was trying to tell myself each and every day.
Because sometimes it was hard to remember that this is what I always wanted.
In the weeks since Raleigh, everything had been kicked into overdrive. Our shows were selling out faster and faster. And we were starting to get almost as much press coverage as the band we were opening for.
Last week, Jose had told me that I had been asked to do an interview for Spin magazine. I was stoked, until I registered what he said. I had been asked. Not the band. When I had said so to Jose, he said it wasn’t going to be a huge piece. Just a few questions. And they had specifically asked for me.
Then we had gotten the cover art of our new album. We had been excited to see it. Jordan had ripped open the box and pulled out a CD. He flipped it over and then promptly threw it in my lap, stalking off to the back of the bus.
Garrett and Mitch had grabbed one to see what Jordan’s problem was.
The picture of the band on the back was his problem. Because I was standing in the front. My body had been enlarged due to the perspective of the shot. Jordan, Garrett, and Mitch were shadowed behind me. You could barely see their faces.
I thought the picture was pretty awesome. The guys did not agree.
“We didn’t agree on this picture. We chose another one,” Garrett pointed out to Jose.
“I can put in a call to the label, but they have final say over the design and layout. I think it’s great,” was our manager’s response.
“Yeah, that’s because it’s not your nose stuck up Cole’s asshole,” Mitch muttered, tossing the CD back in the box.
“Stop your bitching, boys. It’s a great cover. They used Garrett’s artwork, which we wanted. What does it matter if they didn’t use the picture we wanted? This is our first album. That’s what’s important,” I reasoned. I was pretty proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten pissed; I had been calm and understanding.
Paging Oprah!
Mitch and Garrett mumbled their agreement but I knew that Generation Reject’s armor had some major chinks.
I took the CD back to my bunk, where I was beginning to feel I spent most of time. I stared at the picture that had caused such a problem.
I looked good. I grinned. This is what we had been working toward for the last five years.
My smile started to slip. I really didn’t see what the big deal was. Yeah, so the other guys were more in the background. So maybe you couldn’t see their faces clearly.
It was still a great freaking picture.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and automatically started to dial Vivian’s number. When it started to ring, I realized what I was doing and hung up.
I had just done it out of habit. Not a big deal. So what if I hadn’t spoken with her since Raleigh. The fact that I still haven’t hooked up with anyone else had absolutely nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I had been so damn busy.
I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. Despite my arguments to the contrary, I couldn’t deny that I wanted to tell her about the CD. I wanted to talk to her about all this stuff going on with the band.
I didn’t realize how much I liked having someone to listen to my shit until I didn’t have that certain someone anymore.
What would it hurt to call her? It’s not like I was asking her to fly out and fuck me.
Though if she wanted to, I’d fly her out in an instant.
I had to rearrange my junk. My pants had gotten uncomfortably tight all of a sudden.
No, I just wanted to check in and make sure she hadn’t gone off the deep end. I bet she was depressed. Eating her weight in ice cream and watching chick flicks. It was only right that I make sure she didn’t do something stupid in her misery over losing me.
I mean, we may not be screwing anymore, but I still cared about what happened to her. And I was convinced that she was probably wallowing in bed.
I dialed Vivian’s number again and listened to it ring. Yeah, this was just me being a nice guy.
“Hello.”
My chest twisted and my gut knotted up.
“Vivian! Hey! I was just calling-”
“You’ve reached my voicemail. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Beep!
I turned off my phone and dropped it onto the bed beside me. I looked at the Generation Rejects CD again. Where was the pride? The excitement? The over the moon fucking joy?
I was king of the castle but the crown was proving to be pretty damn heavy.
Jordan and the other guys weren’t really talking to me. I felt like the invisible man. Personally I thought I wasn’t the only one that could be accused of a big ego.
I had done the Spin interview and then Primal Terror had asked me to sing a song with them a couple of shows ago and now it had become part of their set. The crowd had eaten it up.
Then I had done some press for the label. But it’s not like the rest of the band weren’t there. But I had answered most of the questions. It had just seemed to be the natural thing to do.
And last night, a local newspaper in De Moines had interviewed us and the reporter had called us “Cole Brandt and the Generation Rejects.” Mitch had jumped all over that one.
“We’re just the Generation Rejects,” he had
said angrily. I rolled my eyes, annoyed by his attitude.
And when Jose suggested I start writing some songs for the band, Garrett had put down his guitar and walked off.
“How’s it going?” Jose asked, sitting down beside me. I was hanging out on the loading dock while the roadies set up our equipment for tonight’s gig. We were due to go on stage in three hours.
“It’s going,” I said. I wish I smoked. I could use something to do with my hands. I was feeling antsy and jittery. And not remotely pumped like I normally was before a show.
“I spoke with the other guys a few minutes ago. They mentioned you wouldn’t come to sound check.”
Of course they’d make me out to be a fucking diva. Like I was the one with the bad attitude. I felt myself getting angry all over again.
“They didn’t like my suggestion to try out the new song. They told me to take a hike. So I did. I don’t need that shit,” I defended. All I had done was say we should try out the song Garrett and I had written a couple of weeks ago with an added vocal run at the end. I thought it would go over well with the audience. Jordan and Mitch had said it was just another excuse to make the set all about me.
There had been some yelling. I may or may not have told them to go fuck themselves. And yeah, I had left. Needing some space wasn’t a crime. And it definitely didn’t make me the bad guy.
“Understood. But you need to be a professional and get your ass back in there. If they want to act like children, so be it. But that doesn’t mean you have to. I want to see you succeed, Cole. And sometimes that means rising above the bullshit,” Jose said, clasping me on the back.
Lately it seemed Jose Suarez was the only one who had my back. My friends had turned on me. Vivian had left me. Despite how popular I was becoming, I was really fucking lonely.
“Thanks, man,” I said. Jose nodded and left me to go talk to the roadies.
I stared down at my phone, scrolling through my contacts. I had no one to call. Everyone I would have normally talked to weren’t currently speaking to me.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and went around to the front of the venue where a small crowd of people had already congregated.
I was recognized pretty quickly and the sound of female squeals did a lot to alleviate my sour mood.
A girl caught my eye instantly. I startled at the sight of her from behind. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair hung down her back and I could have sworn it was Vivian.
My heart started beating frantically and I headed towards her quickly. What was Vivian doing here? My joy was immediate and overwhelming.
I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her around so that I could look down into her brown eyes.
Wait a minute. Brown?
The face that looked up at me in surprise wasn’t Vivian’s. The disappointment sank in quickly.
“Hey,” the girl said, her voice high pitched and grating.
Now that I was looking at her, she didn’t resemble Vivian at all. The fact that I wished she did infuriated me.
I let my hand slide down until I was holding her hand lightly. “Come with me,” I said, cocking my head toward a door that led backstage.
The girl looked at her friends, who were staring at me with their mouths hanging open.
“Okay,” she squeaked and I slung my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t ask for her name. I didn’t want it. It didn’t matter. I hadn’t been with anyone but Vivian in way too long.
Time for that to change.
Twenty minutes later and I wanted to growl in frustration. Because things weren’t going so well.
I had my eyes squeezed shut and was imagining that the breasts barely filling my palms were large and full and the hand down my pants belonged to someone who wasn’t there.
“That’s it, Viv, just like that,” I groaned, lost in my fantasy, as the hand squeezed my cock. I kept my eyes closed and thought of Vivian’s face when I made her come. Ah yeah, that’s what I needed. I was almost there.
“My name isn’t Viv!” a voice huffed, bringing me out of my detailed daydream and deflating my erection instantly.
I opened my eyes and looked down at the woman laid out beneath me on a couch in an empty dressing room. Her shirt was open, her boobs nothing like the girl I had been picturing in my head.
I sat up and scrubbed my hands over my face. The girl scrambled to sit upright beside me and started to button her shirt.
“My name is Andrea,” she said indignantly.
“I really don’t care,” I said tiredly, not caring how bad it sounded.
The girl huffed again. “I’m leaving,” she announced, as if it would bother me. It didn’t. I wasn’t into it. Not even a little bit.
I didn’t say anything when the girl who wasn’t Vivian slammed out of the room. I leaned back on the couch, feeling oddly empty.
I was pissed. I was edgy.
I stormed out of the dressing room and headed to where I knew the other guys would be. Garrett was eating a sub and Mitch was texting on his phone. Maysie and Jordan were all cuddled up on the couch.
“Hey,” I said to the room at large. Jordan lifted his hand in a barely civil greeting. Mitch ignored me completely and Garrett nodded his head.
I threw myself into a chair and started tapping my hands on my knees. My lack of orgasm was messing with my head.
I had been so damn close too. Why did chicks have to be so touchy?
“So I was thinking we really should play that new song,” I said, knowing I was walking into a landmind.
Garrett put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth. “It’s not ready. We had this conversation two hours ago. We still have to bridge the last chorus,” he argued.
“Well I think that last chorus should be the end of the song. Why won’t you listen to me when I tell you that I think it sounds better like that?” I asked angrily.
“And why is it such a fucking big deal to you? You’ve never gotten this damn worked up over a song arrangement before. In fact, you don’t usually have anything to do with it at all,” Jordan called out.
I tapped my knees harder, feeling my anger rise. “Because I’m sick of not having a say about our songs. I think as the lead singer, my input would be important. That what I think should carry some weight,” I said.
“Here we go again,” Mitch muttered.
“Do you have something to say, Mitch?” I shot out, getting to my feet.
“Yeah, you’re the lead singer. That doesn’t mean you have any more of a say than the rest of us,” Mitch stated, putting his phone down.
“No, I just want a say in the first place!” My voice started to rise. I shoved my hands into my pockets and stood my ground. “I want to play the song. I think it’s ready.”
I didn’t really know why I was pressing the point. Except that I felt this was a test to see how much they valued and respected my opinion when it came to the meat and guts of our music. And given the way they were dismissing me, I think I had my answer.
“No, we aren’t,” Garrett ground out.
He and I stared at each other and I never thought I’d see the day when we couldn’t talk about something and figure it out.
I remembered standing with him at his parents’ funeral. I had seen him at his worst. And he had seen me at mine.
But now I looked at him and I didn’t see my friend. I saw someone who didn’t take my role in our band seriously. Someone who was standing in my way and holding me back. I hadn’t wanted to agree with Jose when he told me I was better off without these guys. But, standing there, I knew he was right.
“You have five minutes,” a stagehand said, interrupting our tense showdown. Garrett threw away his trash and gave me a level look.
“We’re not playing that song. End of fucking discussion.”
I stood there seething, feeling like a child who had been put in his place.
Well, we’d see about that.
The concert was proving to be a disaster. We were off. It was obvious to ev
eryone. Our music lacked the energy we were known for.
It didn’t help that not one of my bandmates would look at me.
Their resentment was all over our set. It tainted everything. And when I sang it was full of the anger I felt towards the jackasses behind me. I couldn’t even look at them.
So being who I am, during a lull, I went to the side of the stage and asked one of the stage hands to bring me an acoustic guitar. I walked back to my mic, looping the guitar strap around my neck.
Jordan and the others had stopped playing completely, the silence behind me was deafening. I knew they were wondering what the hell I was doing.
If they were going to fuck up the vibe of our show, then I was going to bring it back. By doing what the hell I wanted to do!
“Hey guys! I know this show is sucking serious balls. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time to change things up a bit. Do you guys want to hear a new song?” I asked.
The answering roar was deafening.
“Well, here you go,” I said and launched into the chords Garrett and I had written. I sang the lyrics and played the entire song by myself and the audience loved it. I was the center of the world. They fed me and I ate it up.
This is why I loved to perform.
But when I was done and I turned back to the guys to say, “See, they loved it, I was right the whole time,” I realized they didn’t see it quite the same way. Mitch and Jordan were furious. Jordan tossed his drumsticks to the ground, got to his feet and walked off stage.
Mitch dropped his bass and followed Jordan.
Garrett didn’t look pissed, but he looked hurt. Why wasn’t he glad that the audience loved our song so much?
He shook his head and unplugged his guitar. “The stage is all yours,” he said, dropping the cable and leaving me alone.
I stood there, the spotlight trained on me, staring out at the sea of confused and increasingly angry faces.
Do I continue to play? Do I quit like a pansy, just as my bandmates had done?
I leaned into the mic and plastered a smile on my face. “Thank you Chicago! It’s been real!” I yelled, gripping the neck of the guitar and walked off the stage, when what I really wanted to do was run.
Seductive Chaos Page 15
