Cake: A Love Story

by J. Bengtsson

  “So this Casey girl must be pretty hot to get you all worked up.”

  “Yeah, she’s hot…but it’s not even that. I actually had fun talking to her.”

  “Holy shit! No fucking way?!?” Kyle teased. “Talking huh?”

  “Shut up,” I laughed. “I’m not kidding. She’s the first girl I’ve met who just talks to me like I’m a normal human being.”

  “Jesus, what’s wrong with her?” Kyle joked. “Clearly you aren’t normal.”

  “God, I almost forgot how annoying you are,” I said, shaking my head in irritation.

  “Well hell. I’ve only been off the tour for two weeks and you’re already starting to forget my character flaws. That is just unacceptable!”

  “And I have two more full months to enjoy a Kyle-free tour. How lucky am I?”

  “Keep that shit up and I won’t come back,” Kyle grinned.

  “Promise?”

  “Shut up. You know you miss me.”

  “No. Actually I don’t miss you at all,” I lied.

  “Yeah, you do. You’re bored without me. Admit it.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Admit it!” Kyle pressed again.

  “No. You realize I could fire you at any time, right?”

  “Yeah, but you won’t. Face it Jake, you can’t live without me,” Kyle said dismissively.

  He was right. I would never fire Kyle. As annoying as he was, Kyle was more than just my little brother…and I needed him by my side. Over the years there would sometimes be grumbling amongst the crew that Kyle was a freeloader getting a paycheck simply for being my brother but I didn’t see it that way. Kyle’s job title had always been somewhat murky but officially he was on security detail. He liked to tell people he was my personal bodyguard but really he just hung out with me and kept me sane. My world was filled with “yes men” and Kyle was there to say ‘no’. He never let me take myself too seriously. If I was feeling full of myself, Kyle was there to knock me down a few pegs with a well-placed insult. He reminded me of who I was and where I came from. I shutter to think who I would be without him. There were only a few people I trusted in this world and Kyle was at the top of that list. So yeah, maybe I did pay him to be my brother and to kick my ass when necessary. Who cares? It’s my money. And truthfully I did miss him. I couldn’t wait for him to get back to the tour in August after he finished his stint on a reality show that was about to start filming.

  “Whatever. I don’t even know what we are talking about anymore,” I shrugged.

  “Me neither,” Kyle laughed. “Oh wait…it had something to do with you being normal.”

  “Not being normal…just being treated normal.”

  Kyle smiled mischievously at me.

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t take much to win you over, does it?” Kyle shook his head. “Seriously, if the groupies only knew.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I thought it was cool. Plus Casey is really fucking hysterical. You would not believe the shit that comes out of her mouth,” I swore, shaking my head in amusement.

  “I heard you laughing.”

  “Yeah, she cracks me up. The first thing she did was punk me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I asked her if there was anything important I needed to know from the rehearsal, she told me all I missed was learning the dance routine.”

  “What? There’s a dance routine?” Kyle asked confused.

  “No, dumbshit, that was the punk.”

  “Oh. Wait, what?”

  “Jesus Christ, Kyle, try to follow along,” I shook my head impatiently. Sometimes he was so goddamn stupid.

  “I’m trying. You’re confusing me.”

  I sighed. “She lied to me and told me that the wedding party was going to dance down the aisle at the end of the ceremony. Then she shows me the dance we are going to do. And it’s the worst frickin’ dance you could ever imagine. There was no way I was going to do it. I mean I would rather have dropped out of the wedding party than embarrass myself like that,” I laughed. “But just before I pissed my pants from the horror of it all, she starts laughing and tells me that she was just kidding. I couldn’t believe it. No one jokes with me like that.”

  “That is pretty funny actually,” Kyle nodded, impressed.

  “Yeah. Casey was so chill. I can’t remember a time I was that interested in something a girl had to say.”

  “Wow, that’s deep,” Kyle joked. “You should put that on a bumper sticker.

  I laughed.

  “So are you going to hit that?”

  I shook my head. “Something tells me she’s not that type of girl.”

  Kyle scoffed. “You’re a fucking rockstar Jake, with you, every girl is that type of girl.”

  “Trust me, not her. Casey doesn’t seem impressed with all that.”

  “Or so she says.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Maybe it’s all an act to get you interested.”

  I gave Kyle a dirty look. “Not everyone I meet has an agenda, asshole.”

  “I’m just saying…you never know.”

  “So you want me to live my life never trusting anyone’s motives?”

  “Don’t you already do that?”

  “No!” Yes.

  Kyle shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

  “Jesus, K, that’s fucked up. With that thinking I might as well get used to being alone with just my hand for company.”

  “Isn’t that the way it is already?” Kyle laughed.

  “Shut up!” I shook my head. “Anyway, Casey isn’t like that.”

  “And you know this because you talked to her for what? 15 minutes?”

  “No I know this because I consider myself to be a pretty good judge of character. For example, I know you’re a piece of shit,” I joked.

  Kyle laughed out loud. “This is true. So…did you get her number?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” Kyle shook his head like I was an idiot.

  “I’m going to see her tomorrow? Why would I need her number?”

  “For emergencies.”

  “What? If I fall and can’t get up?”

  “No if you fall and can’t get up and need a quick blow job,” Kyle smirked.

  I laughed. Kyle could be so crude. “I think I’ll be okay. Besides, Casey would require a lot more effort than I’m willing to put forth tonight.”

  “Damn Jake, you’re so romantic,” Kyle joked.

  “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, she probably already has a boyfriend.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I don’t know. She just has a very relaxed vibe to her. Like a girl who isn’t looking for a guy so she can act herself around them.”

  “So why isn’t he here then? This is a wedding for one of her best friends. Why wouldn’t he be here too?”

  “I don’t know, Kyle, maybe he is here.”

  “Very doubtful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I were some girl’s boyfriend and I saw her talking to you, I would be at her side in a frickin’ second,” Kyle admitted.

  “I don’t know, Kyle,” I said, feeling myself getting frustrated. “And I don’t care. I just think she’s hot. That’s all.”

  I headed back over to the hotel with my family. In the car, my brothers and I laughed and insulted each other relentlessly. My older sister Emma yelled at us to shut up. My mom yelled at her to stop yelling. My dad laughed from the driver seat. God how I’d missed my dysfunctional family! I left home at sixteen and often felt like I missed out on so much growing up. But my life was different back then. This closeness I share with my family now, it didn’t exist when I was sixteen. During that time in my life, I actively tried to push them away. Going out on the road on my own was the perfect way to distance myself. But the longer I was away, the more I missed my family and the more I appreciated what I’d left behind. I spent the short stretches of time at home between tours tryin
g to reestablish the bonds. I was lucky. My family never blamed me for the way I acted. In fact, they welcomed me back with open arms. After that, I never took them for granted again.

  Kyle slammed into the side of me after a violent push from my incredibly irritated sister. I had been deep in thought and hadn’t seen what he’d done to piss her off. Emma was more of an introverted person, preferring peace and quiet to the chaos that a rowdy family of eight always seemed to provide. As a kid, Emma loved getting Kyle and I in trouble. We couldn’t do anything without her telling mom on us. I always viewed her as the enemy. But after the kidnapping, when I was so scarred and afraid, it was Emma who would sit silently for hours in whatever room I was in just reading a book. We never spoke but it was what she didn’t say that stuck with me all these years. She was there for me unconditionally when my life was at its worst. I’d never forgotten her loyalty.

  “Stop it, Kyle!” She screamed.

  Kyle raised his eyebrows in amusement. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was not even close to stopping whatever he was doing to irritate her.

  I pulled him back. “Relax, idiot.”

  “Fuck off,” he whispered in my ear so mom wouldn’t hear.

  “Stop now or I’ll tell mom what you did in Greece,” I whispered back.

  He scowled at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me,” I replied.

  “Then I’ll tell her what you did in Japan.”

  “Go ahead. Because by the time I’m finished telling her what you did in Russia she won’t even care.”

  Kyle glared at me. I glared back. Finally he sat back up, ignoring our sister.

  Emma glanced over at me then looked away. I saw the slightest smile on her face. That was Emma…always subtle.

  I smiled as I breathed in, feeling relaxed despite the turmoil in the car. My life on the road was filled up with constant schedules and lots of pressure. I rarely, if ever, took the time to relax and goof off and feel like a kid again. Sometimes, on the road, I felt so old…and isolated; especially now that Kyle was gone. And really, I shouldn’t feel that way because I travelled with a 60-plus crew. We spent a lot of time together…too much time. Everyday was a new city or new country or new audience. I mean, we all worked great as a team and we were friendly with each other but, on a personal level, I held them at arm’s length, never letting them get too close. When they had parking lot parties at the venues after shows, they invited me but I rarely went. And if I did go, Kyle was always with me. It just felt weird hanging out with them during off hours. They always seemed a little nervous when I came around, like they had to be on good behavior. It was clear that they viewed me more as their boss than their friend and I was okay with that.

  It wasn’t that I was trying to be a guarded asshole but I was not good at opening up to people. Only those I genuinely loved and trusted ever really got to know me. Everyone else in my world was approached with caution. Just like Kyle said, a lot of people had ulterior motives when it came to me. There was a big payday to be had for information about my life, especially if that information included something about the kidnapping. Crewmembers, a manager, even random hookups had sold me out in the past, although they really had nothing but lies to sell. Even the most honest person could be swayed if the money was right. Case in point…my grandmother’s former best friend who sold a story about my mental state when I was fourteen-years-old. It made it hard to know whom to trust, so as a general rule, I trusted no one…especially not the goddamn media. When I was a kid, those assholes made my life a living hell. Now that I was an adult and could speak for myself, I decided that I didn’t owe them a fucking thing. I refused all interviews. The media didn’t take kindly to my insolence and, as punishment; they destroyed my character on a daily basis.

  It was no wonder that, outside of my family, I only considered one person to be an actual friend…and he was a fifty-something-year old man! All my childhood buddies disappeared after the kidnapping, although I had to take the blame for that. I couldn’t stand the way they stared at me with a weird combination of both pity and embarrassment. And I hated the way they tried to pretend nothing had changed even though my whole world had been turned upside down and then crushed. Being around them reminded me of who I once was and who I would never be again. I shut them out of my life completely and never looked back.

  Several lonely years followed. Really I only had my miserable self to keep me company, as I’d pushed my family away as well. Back then I saw no future for myself. Living seemed pointless. It was rare for me to go more than a month or two without attempting suicide. After one such attempt, my frustrated mother steered me into the living room, where we kept all our musical instruments, and forced me to sit at the piano. I hadn’t touched it since the kidnapping. Music was just another reminder of all I’d lost. Before the kidnapping, music was my life. I could play just about any instrument I touched. I started writing songs when I was eight or nine. I joined a band at eleven. I loved being on stage performing and I truly believed that one day I would be a rockstar. But that was when I was still young and carefree…and still brave and fun and adventurous. That was when I still had tons of friends and went through life with a perpetual smile on my face. That was before Ray…before I lost my faith in humanity…before I lost my innocence.

  In the blink of an eye, it was all gone…my whole life…just completely destroyed. My childhood hopes and dreams seemed so foolish and far away. Life had stopped being worth living. But there was one person who refused to allow me to give up…and refused to give up on me. And that day when she sat me down at the piano, placing her fingers over mine and pressing down on the keys for the both of us because I didn’t have the strength or desire to do it on my own…she brought me back into the land of the living. I played the piano for hours that day letting the music flow through me and lift up my tattered soul. I could almost feel the open wounds start sealing themselves shut. Music became my savior…my only friend. I poured all my sadness and fear and anger into it. Hours, upon hours, upon hours. It’s all I did all day, every day. All the terrible thoughts in my head eventually made their way out onto paper and then into songs. My voice returned. Somehow singing the words that had been trapped inside my head for so long, gave me hope for my future. Maybe I would be all right. Maybe living wouldn’t be so pointless.

  And then, unexpectedly, everything I’d ever wanted as a young, innocent kid dreaming of rock stardom, came true. In the beginning, stepping out onto the stage was a terrifying experience. After hiding myself away for so long, just the thought of opening myself back up to a cruel, unforgiving world was incredibly daunting. But if I wanted to be a musician, I knew I needed to get comfortable on stage…and fast. Touring cured me of those fears. I spent so much time on stage that it became like second nature for me. Soon there were no more jitters and I found performing to be uplifting. There was something truly amazing about connecting with an audience who hadn’t come to my concert to gawk or pity me. They had come for the music…because a song I created made them feel something. It was a powerful connection. Standing up on the stage in front of thousands of strangers and feeling the roar of the crowd beneath my feet made me feel alive again. I became stronger and more confident. The unwavering support of my fans gave my self-esteem the boost it so desperately needed. Without their support, I would still be a scared, lost kid making music inside my head for my own sanity.

  And really, my fans were the perfect, superficial friends. They were always there if I needed a quick pick-me-up and always there to make me feel like I was a pretty goddamn cool guy. And, for the most part, they weren’t invasive. Mostly they just wanted a small piece of me…a picture or an autograph. The interactions were always surface level…a smile, a few pleasantries, and then we went our separate ways. I was never expected to dig deeper, like I would have to do if I had real friends.

  I approached women with the same wary caution that I approached everyone else who tried to get close to me. I liked w
omen. I liked flirting. I liked sex. I didn’t like talking. I didn’t like commitment. I didn’t like messy emotions. For that reason, casual, one-night stands worked best for me. In and out…so to speak. And before you feel sorry for the duped women…don’t. Their interest in me was just as superficial as my interest in them. Maybe I only wanted sex but they only wanted the bragging rights of bagging a rockstar.

  Getting women into bed was not hard. Usually it was just a matter of picking the one that looked like she’d be the least amount of work. For example, women who wanted to get to know me…out! Women who wanted a second ‘date’…out! Women who wanted to heal me…oh God…get in line! For some reason, the fact that I was viewed as damaged goods was a huge selling point for women. The need to fix me was strong. I imagine that’s the same irrational need that pushes some women into marrying death-row inmates. Not that I considered myself on the same level as a death-row killer…but still, I was sufficiently fucked up…so all the more reason to stay the hell away from me.

  Then I met Casey and all my flawed reasoning about women went out the door. For the life of me, I couldn’t get a read on her. She didn’t fit into any of the little stereotypical boxes I’d created. She wasn’t a friend or a foe or a fan. She wasn’t trying to fix me, or fuck me, or bask in my fame. From what I could tell, Casey seemed totally genuine. She really did appear to be just a cool girl, with no ulterior motives, having a friendly conversation with a guy. Why was that weird to me? Was I that screwed up that ‘normal’ in everyone else’s world was not ‘normal’ in mine?

  Later that night, my brothers and I found a little table tucked out of the way in the interior atrium area of the hotel. It was a cool little spot with a fishpond and waterfalls and trees. All the rooms of the hotel opened up into a view of the inside tropical paradise. Keith smuggled a bottle of Jack Daniels in his backpack and we took turns taking swigs. We allowed Quinn, who was only sixteen, one swig but only after we threatened him with death if he told our parents. Mitch had two mouthfuls and quit. He alluded to the fact that Kate would kill him if he were hung over for the wedding, then went on to tell us we shouldn’t be hung over in the morning either.