by Stahl, Shey
Sunday afternoon while Drew spent time at the cemetery, Dylan and I sifted through the photos I had developed. He stared endlessly at the sunrises and sunsets, kept the one of him walking toward his mom’s grave and passed over the ones of him, on stage, singing.
“You’re alive out there,” I said holding the one where he was standing in front of the microphone, both hands cupping it with his head leaned back belting out a song that held true meaning for him. His song.
His fingertips slid up my arm, over my collarbone and to the side of my face. “It’s because of you.”
I looked down at him and smiled. Then his phone started ringing. It was my dad again so he ripped out the battery and tossed it on the floor just as he had done every other time he called which was daily.
“Do you think he will ever stop calling?” I asked biting my nails. Part of me still thought about why he was calling but it probably had more to do with school than anything. I knew he despised the fact that I gave up my scholarship.
“No, he won’t stop until he has control of you,” Dylan said removing himself from the bed and reaching for his cigarettes. “That’s all he wants. Control.”
When Drew got back from visiting his mom we all went out to dinner together. Dylan ran into Josh there, the first time they had seen each other since that party and me dancing with him. It probably would have blown over but Josh was flirty and Dylan didn’t appreciate it when he put his arm around me and took a few of my fries from my plate like he was some sort of good friend.
We were asked to leave when Dylan took a swing at him.
“Jesus Dylan, was that necessary?” Drew asked when we got to the parking lot. He and Megan both stared at us. I had no idea what to say so I kept quiet.
“Yeah, it was!” he shouted over his shoulder before getting in his car. “Get in Bailey.”
On the drive back to Drew’s, house Dylan said absolutely nothing to me. It was frustrating. I was somewhat relieved that Drew and Megan had taken a separate car. I wanted the time alone with Dylan. I had this crazy thought that I could talk to him.
His mood didn’t improve and when his car started vibrating, it ignited. “Now what the fuck is wrong?” His hand over the wheel flipped up checking gauges but nothing indicated a problem.
The rain that had started when we left the steak house had picked up rocking the car with the wind. The vibration in the left rear got more apparent and Dylan knew something was wrong. We pulled off at a truck stop and parked, thankfully before something broke. “Stay in the car.”
I stayed in the car and watched as he said for me to do. I did sense he wasn’t in the mood for any more provoking.
Hearing him rummage in the truck, I watched through the rearview mirror to see him toss a tire outside along with a handheld jack.
The rain, a steady pour now, wasn’t letting up. I didn’t want him out there alone so, against my better judgment, I got out.
Dylan was crouched near the tire with a tire iron in his hands. With the rain, his hands kept slipping from the tool and that seemed to frustrate him even more.
“Can I help?” My voice was timid, rightfully so. At first, I wasn’t sure he had heard me with the rain, but he did.
“You can help by staying in the fucking car,” he grunted tossing the tool aside, he finally got the lug nuts off. He then took the shredded tire and removed it to replace it with the one from the trunk.
I still wasn’t over being yelled at and answered as such. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”
Dylan stopped. I struck a nerve, looking up at me with the cold blue that set fire with my words. “I’m the jerk?”
“I…you…fuck…”
Frustrated, he ripped his wet shirt over his head. It slapped against the ground as it fell beside him.
Next thing I knew he had me in his arms.
His fingers dug into my wet skin sliding against me. Twisting in his arms, I slipped slightly against the wet fender. “Don’t say that to me.”
He slammed my open door shut and my back hit the door, my head hit the window as he pushed me against the side, not hard but he got my attention which was what he wanted. “Don’t fucking do that to me? Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m the asshole for trying to protect you from things that can hurt you,” he spit, eyes hard and only on me, the only blue that surrounded dark let me know a storm was coming, his hand under my chin forced me to pay attention. “There’s so much you don’t know.”
And that’s where it ended. Dylan wasn’t willing to talk about it and with Dylan, if he wasn’t talking, he just wasn’t.
I had so many questions for him about his cryptic words but he would shut down.
Drew and Dylan were a little on edge the next day and I thought it had to do with last night and the restaurant but it didn’t. Sam, the overly persistent producer we had met in Kansas, had followed Dylan and was now asking questions around town. Why he was so hell-bent on Dylan was weird and Dylan didn’t appreciate it one bit.
Sam had found Dylan with the help of Drew and presented the idea of a three-band show to support the local bars. And if you spent any time around Sam, you would understand this had nothing to do with supporting local bars. It was all about him and his record label.
The bands would play at each bar for two hours starting at three and end at Drew’s bar, The Joint.
While Dylan initially denied the offer, and told Sam he could fuck himself, he reconsidered after Drew said it’d be good exposure for the bar. Dylan would do anything to help Drew out, including agreeing to partner up with the likes of Sam Young for a night.
To prepare for the night, Dylan called up Eddy, who had ratted him out to Sam about going to Birmingham. Dylan told him he now owed him and he’d better get his ass to Birmingham by Friday night.
Eddy brought with him Reece and another guy named Davey who I had never met before. They spent the next week rehearsing for ten hours a day at The Joint while Megan and I helped Drew with advertising and posting signs around town.
The night of the concert, Dylan was in the living room while I was getting ready. I wasn’t exactly sure what to wear to the bar but Megan helped me out and brought over a nice and simple black dress that clung to my every curve. Dylan wasn’t exactly impressed with the dress but more jealous of it. His words not mine.
“Are you nervous?” I asked slapping his hand away when he crept up my side again.
“A little,” he admitted. “Never played in front of this many people before.”
“You’ll do fine.” I knelt beside him moving my hands up his thighs.
“So you say,” he chuckled catching my hands when they got to his buckle.
“You don’t need a distraction?”
“No,” he said bringing my hands to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “I have something else planned tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, the concert.” Standing I felt silly thinking he would need me as some kind of good luck charm.
Just about the time I was walking away, his warm hand caught mine and brought me down on his lap. His hands went to my face forcing me to look only in his eyes.
“I don’t think you get it, brown eyes.” His voice shot through me. “I want you, all of you, tonight.” When the words were out, his stare was on mine, suggestive, curious.
“You mean we can finally open the box?” I tried to hide my nervous grin but there was no way around it.
Dylan chuckled pressing his lips to mine, “Yes.”
“Why now?”
He wasn’t prepared for that question but kept his expression relaxed. “Taking my own advice and living in the moment,” he winked. “Now let’s go play rock star for a night.”
Once he told me that the box would be opened tonight, that’s all I thought about. I thought about how it would feel, what I would do, what he would do, the things he would say to me. All of it. Hardly focusing on anything around me, I was lost in my own world.
The commotion around me didn’t len
d well to that though.
Dylan was amped when we got to the first bar, especially with Eddy and Reece around. They were tossing shit at each other and Reece had a black eye before the first show even began. When they finally got on stage, they fed off one another and the music they played which was mostly a mix of rock and roll and grunge rock. They played covers from Korn, Theory Of A Deadman, Chevelle, and The White Stripes. Then they played one of Dylan’s at the first bar.
You tease me dear
For you don’t know
The power I hold so near
You should fear me dear
The horror held so near
You tease me dear
For you can’t know
The shame I hold so dear
For you don’t know
The scenes appear in fear
His eyes were focused on the ground when he would sing one of his one songs, never looking up, the nervous edge he had overpowering every other motion he had. But I felt and heard every word as I always did when he sang.
What was hard were the girls that hung all over Dylan before the shows and even during them. They crowded the stage, clung to his legs and offered themselves up after every set.
I did not like that and felt better that Dylan didn’t want to pursue his music any more than he already was. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing this every night. Some of those girls should have been ashamed of themselves. They looked desperate and trashy.
As I sat in the crowd, Dylan’s eyes were on mine a lot. He knew that I didn’t know anyone besides Megan and Drew and both were at The Joint preparing for the final show. Megan showed up halfway through their set and asked if I wanted to come back with her but I couldn’t leave when Dylan was on stage. There was something about that boy when he had a guitar. An enchanting force surrounded him up there and you couldn’t help but stare at him as he held your attention.
If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Dylan had been performing his entire life with how relaxed he appeared at times, until he played one of his own songs.
Drew and Megan showed up again at the second bar just about the time Dylan and the boys came on stage. He spotted Drew and smiled adjusting the mic height. Slinging the guitar over his shoulder, he wrapped his hands around the microphone and met Drew’s eyes near the stage. “This one is for my brother.” He raised an eyebrow when a group of energetic girls in front of him screamed, his warm laughter rang through the bar.
Dylan flicked his wrist behind him and Reece started in with a song I knew held meaning for Dylan and Drew. Midnight Rider.
Drew laughed. “He better not fuck this song up,” he said with more emotion than I thought a guy like Drew Wade would display. Megan wrapped her arms around his waist and swayed to the music as Dylan leaned forward and began to sing. There was such a rush around us, bodies swaying, the vibrations of live music, it was easy to get lost.
The version he played of the song was heavier, more rock style like Theory Of A Deadman would do, but it was perfect and ignited the crowd the way it was designed to.
I knew one thing, it was hot in there. Being in Alabama in late July, the heat from outside was intense as was the heat in the bars. I assumed they had air conditioning but with that many bodies swaying side to side, the heat rose quickly. I was relieved that I wore a dress.
During their set at the second bar, I met Nate, a bartender at Drew’s bar who came to find Drew to let him know the fire department had been called about the capacity limit being met.
Drew left to talk with the fire chief and made Nate stay and keep an eye on me. Nate was not good company. He was energetic, loud mouthed and full of all kinds of crazy. He had a smile I could resist though and had me laughing at everything he said.
With the thick crowd near the stage, it was hard not to be close to him. I didn’t think anything over it when a few guys got rowdy in front of us and I was pushed into him, Nate immediately righted my position to keep me from falling. He smiled when my eyes caught his and thanked him, always smiling. I tried not to pay too much attention to him knowing what Dylan’s reaction would be.
Megan found me again after that, which I was relieved by. I really didn’t want Dylan seeing me standing with Nate. “Hey girl.” Megan bright green eyes were bloodshot and tired. Poor girl was worn out running back and forth between the three bars. “Fuck, this is a nightmare. Drew is all kinds of tossed over there.”
Tossed?
Tossed in my mind meant drunk or high, at least that’s the word Dylan used it for. “You mean high?”
She gave me a funny look. “No, I mean stressed out. He’s nervous. Drew doesn’t get high anymore, it’s not his thing.”
“Oh, right.” I knew that. Dylan had told me he laid off the drugs completely these days.
I had already added so much more to my vocabulary around Dylan and now Drew but it was strange how many different meanings all these words had.
“Should we go help?” I looked around the bar over the throngs of people to see the guys shuffling off the stage with a four or five girls following them. Sighing I turned back to Megan, “I’ll come with you.”
“Okay.” She grabbed my wrist. “Where’s Nate?”
“I’m here!” he shouted through the thick mass of bodies all pushing toward the entrance to get to the final bar.
All three of us walked the four blocks to Drew’s bar where the first band was already setting up for their set, the drummer took a seat at the drums.
I helped Nate and Megan set everything up, take the cover at the door and eventually take drink orders. I hadn’t seen Dylan since the last bar and when I saw him take the stage, he was drunk. I was sure of that.
Dylan and the boys started with a few Powerman 5000 songs to get the crowd amped, as if they needed it and that’s when I could tell he was drunk. His mood before was lively but now he seemed a little more on edge, vulnerable but relaxed if that made sense.
I had my fair share of drinks too. Megan was convinced I needed them but I think she was just trying to keep me and her both calm.
Dylan caught my eye every once in a while, every time his expression was something I couldn’t place. His mood was off.
As I sat in the corner with Nate, Megan and Drew near us, the music darkened, a slow base filled the bar. I looked up to the stage that was dimly lit, Reece had his head down, beating a slow rhythm that seemed mysterious and the intro something a lot darker than they had played the rest of the night.
I immediately looked to the stage to see Dylan. He was standing near the microphone, no light on him, completely shadowed. He gripped the base tightly, his body swaying, slightly rocking from one foot to the other.
As the music went into a riff, his eyes found the audience but he kept his head bent forward, almost more menacing that way. Through the shadows, I saw that ice blue that could give you chills and tingles at the same time.
As the music sped, his voice became louder to the point where he was practically screaming.
Looking at him now, I’d never seen him play like this before, so dark, so angry. He had an intensity that seemed ever darker than the lyrics to the song. He rocked from side to side throughout the third verse, his hand tight on the microphone, one in his pocket.
Across the table from me, Nate stood and smiled down at me when the song changed to something more upbeat and dance worthy. Drew even got Megan out there to shake her ass a little. I danced mostly with her and tried to stay away from Nate. He was flirty and had a cute face. I needed to stay away from him. I knew exactly what Dylan’s reaction would have been.
But the thing was, Nate was drunk, I knew that. And I was feeling the music Dylan was screaming on stage, Crazy Bitch. I loved the song and the fact that he was singing, dancing around, holding a microphone so close to his lips I wished it was my body he was squeezing.
Nate touched me, reaching for my arm. Pulling me close, I finally understood what his intentions were but I couldn’t move away. Fear maybe,
I don’t know. Stupidity?
I don’t think he knew that I was with Dylan so I told him, “I’m with Dylan.”
He smiled, always smiling, and pulled me closer, we both laughed when our chins bumped together at the close proximity. “He doesn’t have to know.”
Leading Nate on was not my intention at all. He was warm, I was feeling the song, wanting arms around me but not wanting Nate’s. He was warm but not the warmth I was used to. While now, all I smelled was whiskey and beer, I wanted the smells of summer grass and sun and the boy I knew so well.
Alcohol and jealousy could do unexpected things to your actions and intentions. I knew that now. When Nate’s mouth found my neck and then jaw and finally my lips, at some point during the song, I didn’t move. Frozen in time, I couldn’t believe what I was allowing.
Nate didn’t let me react knowing his chance was now. My heart was screaming, telling me I was being stupid but my body didn’t react. When his tongue found mine, I reacted and pushed him away but not soon enough for the damage to be done.
“Bailey!” Drew screamed over the crowd but it was too late.
When I turned around and looked back at Drew who called my name, I found that the conversations around us had silenced, music stopped and eyes had darted to me, and Nate, and his hold on me.
Stupidity. Young stupidity could destroy a lot of things.
Dylan must have seen.
Indifferent, and I should have known, Nate crossed his arms over his chest before he looked over at me. His eyes skipped to the stage. They passed by mine and locked over my shoulder. That’s when his posture changed from indifferent to guarded. His hands dropped and fisted, preparing, glaring, and anticipating.
I couldn’t see through all of the commotion but I heard it. A chair was thrown, bodies shoved, glass breaking, the silence no longer and yelling replacing it as if someone was trying to hold someone back. I knew that someone. When I looked at the stage, Dylan wasn’t up there any longer, his guitar broken on the stage with Reece and Eddy scrambling to chase after him.
