As Os turned around to meet what would probably be his brother’s unhappy face, turned out to be his fist instead. Os couldn’t get another word when he was sent sprawling on the floor. Next, he felt the familiar grasp of his brother as it brought him to his feet and sent him stumbling across the other side of the bus. And last but not least, he heard the angry yet familiar growl that followed, only this time, it was wrapped with conviction and an underlying hatred that he had yet to experience.
“You…SON OF A BITCH!”
Just as Wade’s angry howl filled the air, Joe and the rest of the gang poured onto the bus and not a moment too soon. Instantly, Joe dove in to try and separate the two.
“Oh c’mon, you guys - not again!”
Joe’s efforts were in vain as Wade held a death grip onto his brother and he screamed into his now bloodied face. But Os didn’t lift a finger to fight. He knew he had it coming and now, he would sit there and take every bit of Wade’s wrath.
“Tell them, Os!” Wade screamed. “Tell them what you did!”
Wade jostled Os roughly by his shirt, but he knew there was no getting out of this one.
“Os?” Joe asked, petrified of what would come out of his mouth. “What did you do?”
Os hung his head, not only in shame, but in dizziness. In just a short amount of time, the objects in the bus became a swirling mess.
“TELL THEM!” Wade demanded, and shocked Os into answering.
“It was me,” he said through bloodied lips. “I sold Chris out. I gave an anonymous tip to Dark Water about a big secret Heretic was hiding - one that was bigger than Hess. That’s why he came up with the drummer’s competition. It was to lure Chris out of hiding. And after I called her father…”
Os couldn’t get another word out and dropped his head in shame. Wade’s lips trembled and he no longer saw his brother’s face due to a thick veil of tears. Joe sighed and stepped away, turning his back to them both. There, he ran his hands through his hair and tugged at his dreads while Pete and Mike stared on in muted silence.
“Christ, man,” he said. “This is a new low even for you, Os.”
But then, Wade pushed his brother roughly up against the wall, causing him to lose his breath.
“Why did you do it, Os?” he spat. “What the hell did you do it?!”
Scared into talking, Os muttered, “I-I didn’t know you fell for her, man! You have girls all the time. I thought she was just another fad to you!”
But Wade was hardly satisfied with his answer and bore even further into his brother.
“Because of you, I let her go! Because of you, I’m no better than that other guy!”
Os trembled with fear at such words and Wade’s volume alone caused everyone on the bus to jump in surprise. Of course, no one knew what ‘other guy’ he spoke of, but Wade did, and that alone drove him over the edge.
Meanwhile, Mike took out a cigarette and lit it. And while he puffed at it casually, Wade fisted his brother’s shirt and threw him up against another wall. His entire demeanor became one of a madman and his chest heaved up and down in a tremendous rage. Wade tried to keep it in check, but after all of the stunts and arguments that he had with this brother, this one took the cake. Now, Wade fought every desire to become an only child.
“Tell me where she is, Os! You said you looked up everything, huh!? WELL GIVE ME THE GOD DAMN ADDRESS!”
Unabashed, Wade’s spittle landed in his brother’s face but he hardly gave a damn. And as far as he was concerned, he was far from finished with him, jerking him around like a ragdoll.
“And for your sake? You’d better pray that when I find her, it’s not too late,” Wade fumed. “Pray that she forgives me for acting like a jerk!”
Just as Wade’s breathing intensified to the point of hyperventilating, he screamed one final time.
“I LOVE HER GOD DAMMIT!”
As Wade poured out the last of his emotions, it was then that the tears came, hot and fresh, down his cheeks. But Os could only stare back at his brother with his broken and battered face - much too afraid to respond.
While he continued fisting his brother’s shirt, he jerked him exhaustively a few last times, but his adrenaline was gone.
“Did you hear me!?” Wade cried. “I said ‘I love her!’”
Wade jostled his brother one more time before he finally released him, letting his words sink into his brother’s head. And perhaps into his own. Too weak to continue, Wade reeled and fell onto the floor where he buried his head in his legs.
The bus sat in silence while Wade’s tears of remorse rose and fell. But it was then that Os realized, as late though it may be, that he had lost the respect of the only person he cared about.
He inwardly cursed his own stupidity at ruining the one thing that made his brother truly happy and it was then that he began to shed quiet tears of his own.
“I-I’m sorry, Wade.” Os’ bloodied lip quivered in fear. “I didn’t know you felt that way about her."
Wade was far too weak to come up with a response of any kind, but finding some remaining strength, he rose to his feet with Joe’s help.
He stood there for the longest time, with nothing more than a blank expression until his breathing returned to normal. But try as he might, the tears wouldn’t stop.
As he mulled over the words he had just spoken in front of everyone, a sudden feeling gripped him like it never had before. He did love Chris. And now he knew the reason why his gut did a nose dive whenever they were near each other. And as the past year raced through his brain like a freight train, he knew he fell for her the moment she first played the drums.
Joe’s words returned full circle from their argument and now, he only wished he would have realized it sooner. But the pain of their last parting cut into Wade so much, he felt like he was left without a soul. Looking back on it, he couldn’t believe he stood idly by and did nothing as her father took her away.
“Oh God,” he said. “What have I done?”
An icy chill gripped Wade as soon as he recalled Chris’ fear of her father, and what would happen if he ever found her – that Chris’ passion for her drums would be short-lived if was shipped off to boot camp. When another sick feeling slammed into his gut, he brought out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. But the droning ring yielded nothing but voicemail.
Defeated, Wade closed it and pressed it against his forehead. For all he knew, he was too late and he had a suspicion that her father would never allow her to have her phone again. All that was left was for Wade, was to crawl into a hole and die. That is, until he heard Mike talking to him.
“Hey,” came his agent’s quiet voice. And when Wade turned to meet his studying stare, he hoped he would find patience and understanding, but he got more than that.
“Take these.”
Mike threw a jingling mass of metal at him. After Wade caught it, he looked down at them and saw that they were Mike’s keys - keys to his agent’s prized Jaguar. The same car that Mike was fiercely protective of.
Now, physically, emotionally, and mentally spent, Wade struggled to come to terms with what Mike wanted Wade to do with them. But out of nowhere, a dry, cracked, yet altogether familiar voice broke through the silence.
“Well, wuttaya standin’ around for, ya jackass?”
Everyone’s attention snapped to the front - to Pete in his worn leather biker gear. It had been so long since anyone had heard his voice, Wade almost didn’t recognize it.
“I think he’s tellin’ ya t’go ‘n get ‘er!”
Pete’s gruff voiced finished strong and Wade laughed at the simplicity of it.
Mike laughed, nodding at Pete in the process. “What he said.”
Wade shook his head. “Guys, for all I know…she could be gone already.”
He almost wished he hadn’t said those dreadful words. If his gut did anymore dive-bombing, he’d get sick.
“Only one way to find out,” Mike said.
But Wade couldn’t get his fe
et to move. He couldn’t fathom the possibility of laying eyes on Chris again, let alone coming up with some sort of apology that would suffice for the way he acted.
Mike cleared his throat on purpose, snapping Wade out of another bout of depression.
“Hey! Romeo!” he barked. “You better move your ass…unless you really want me to change my mind about letting you ride my baby. The bus’ll take too long and attract the media. You’re better off on your own,” Mike explained with a short, reassuring smile. “We’ll be here. Just make sure you come back with her…or not at all.”
Wade laughed at his agent’s irony, but when he laid eyes on his brother, he turned dead-serious in an instant.
“Oswald Griffin,” came Wade’s low growl. Os looked back up at his younger brother and inadvertently swallowed more of his own blood. He knew the only time Wade had ever used his full name was only when he was in really deep shit.
“You said you looked up everything?”
“Uh-huh," he nodded nervously.
Wade crouched down next to his brother.
“The address, Os. Give it to me.”
Os licked his tender lip and stared up into the maniacal expression of his brother. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath - hoping his memory wouldn’t fail him.
Chapter 23
In minutes, with tires squealing and engine roaring, Wade peeled out of the parking lot leaving behind Heretic’s bus and a tidal wave of dust and gravel. On any other day, Wade would have relished in the opportunity of driving his agent’s 1968 Jag. As he pulled onto the interstate, his hands ran over the black leather interior of the red beauty and the devil inside him grinned each time he heard the V-10 cylinder kick into action. When Wade brought the stick to its last and highest gear, his foot became a permanent part of the gas pedal.
He thanked Mike under his breath for the radar detector that kept him off the grid from highway troopers. But his anxiety at being caught by the law paled in comparison to how he envisioned his visit to Chris’ front door. He battled fatigue with every mile that brought him closer to Michigan. But the only thing he fought more was his own carelessness for letting her go so easily. He hoped and prayed that not only would she be there when he arrived, but that she would forgive him for his cruel treatment of her.
Hour after ruthless hour, Wade feverishly checked the GPS on his phone to make sure he was going in the right direction. He knew he had a long trip from Nebraska to Michigan, seventeen hours to be exact, and Wade cringed each time he saw the clock on the dashboard tick by. He never stopped trying to call Chris but each time he heard it ring to voicemail, the knot in his stomach became a little bigger. The occasional rest stop for fuel and Red Bull became Wade’s only respite from his fleeting thoughts.
What if he was too late? What if he made it in time? What would she say? What would he do if her father brought out a gun, shot him, and buried him? Wade shook his head and jerked himself out of these intense emotions as well as another spurt of oncoming sleep.
Finally, he passed through Iowa.
What am I gonna do? What the hell do I even say to her?
Illinois.
Jesus…what I am gonna say to her father? What if he doesn’t even let me see her?
Indiana.
I have to try…even if she doesn’t want to see me…I have to try…
Michigan.
Chris…please forgive me…
After a long, grueling ride across hundreds of miles and fifteen hours later, Wade’s heart skipped a beat as the dusty Jag pulled into Clarksville, Michigan. He was here. He had made it. This was Chris’ hometown.
As Wade drove down past a library, town hall, school, and a small restaurant, he remarked at how well groomed the whole town was. Thanks to his own lackluster appearance, he received many odd stares as he drove down the main drag of Clarksville.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he said to himself.
He rubbed his forehead and sighed at the irony of it all: quite possibly the world’s greatest drummer was born in a town that resembled something from a Disney movie. It was a gorgeous, sunny day complete with kids playing in the park, elderly couples holding hands as they walked and here and there, and others who walked their dogs along the sidewalk. But when he turned down another road, he marveled at the subdivision before him.
“Jesus,” Wade commented, driving past row after endless row of fancy two-story homes.
To Wade, they resembled cookie-cutter homes; each nearly the same as the last with the exception of one or two minor details. As he neared the end of his long journey, Wade fought the temptation to go past the speed limit. But to come so far only to get hammered by local police caused Wade to take extra caution.
As he drove by each home, he couldn’t help but notice that not a single yard looked unkempt or untidy. A few homeowners were busy mowing lawns or watering flowers while children chased each other in their yards. Wade began to doubt if Os gave him the right address but when the GPS spoke again, it nearly startled Wade from his stupor.
“You have reached your destination…on left.”
As if the knot in his stomach couldn’t have gotten any bigger, he instantly felt dwarfed by what was possibly the biggest home on the block.
Two stories high, the pristine white siding appeared to not have a speck of dirt anywhere on it, and every single blade of grass was cut with eerie perfection. As he pulled the Jag to a stop in front of the mailbox, Wade saw ‘609 Sawyer Street’ and ‘Rebman’ on the side of it.
Wade’s heart sunk as he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath before he turned off the car. But then, he felt as though he left his courage somewhere back on the interstate.
As butterflies with razor sharp wings clipped the inside of his stomach, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous - certainly not at any concert of his. But something told him, that this time, he’d have to pull off the performance of a lifetime.
When he forced himself to open the car door, he stepped outside and heard a few wind chimes play their delicate song although it did little to calm his nerves. He looked carefully from window to window, wondering which one belonged to Chris and when he didn’t spot a vehicle in the driveway, he began to grow alarmed. When the thought of coming face to face with Chris’ father became very real, Wade felt like throwing up - and so he did.
He hunched over by the side of Mike’s Jag and regurgitated what was left of his road snacks. He used one hand to steady himself before his stomach finally convulsed its last. Wade stood there for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts before he caught a glimpse of himself in the car window.
“Shit!” Wade hissed at his unkempt appearance.
He tried to smooth down his wrinkled jeans and t-shirt but fifteen hours would wreak havoc on anyone, but when he spotted five o’clock shadow, his stomach turned yet again. Still, he made the best of a bad situation and even tried to pat down his wild hair.
Wade turned and faced the house again and breathed deeply a few more times before he took his first step towards the ornately laid brick path. But as he tried focusing on the task at hand, a sudden snipping noise to his left caught his attention.
Wade stopped and looked at an elderly gentleman who was busy trimming his hedges. He stopped mid-cut and looked at Wade with suspicion but who could blame him? Wade certainly felt the odd one out in a town like this.
“Hey - uh…can you tell me if anyone’s home or not?” Wade asked, gesturing to the Rebman residence.
But the elderly senior didn’t so much as bat an eye and wrinkled his already wrinkled face as trying to determine if Wade was a threat. Of course it wasn’t the first time that Wade was treated differently because of the way he looked and dressed. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, he waved at the man and continued walking to the front door.
“Thanks for your help,” he said in an underlying sarcastic tone.
To Wade, he had more important things to worry about than a suspicious senior citizen
, like an escape route in case Chris’ father brought out a shotgun.
Wade’s gut did another nose dive as he approached the bright red door. He fought off another urge to vomit into the bushes and did his best to collect himself before what would be his only opportunity at seeing Chris. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and ran his hands through his hair again for good measure.
He felt stuck to the ‘Welcome’ mat and eyed the doorbell with fear, but before he could talk himself out of it, his arm seemed to act on its own accord, moving closer it. To Wade, it was like watching a car wreck in the making. He took another deep breath as his finger pushed the small, round button and he listened as the doorbell sounded his doom.
Wade stopped and heard the echoing bell as it rang throughout the home. At first he heard nothing, and his heart began to sink. After a few more moments of silence, he dropped his head and sighed, knowing that he was too late.
But out of nowhere, a few footsteps stirred from within and grew louder as it approached the door; Wade heard a soft click of a lock and just like that, it opened.
Time seemed to slow considerably as Wade soon stood face to face with a tall, lean man with combed white hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. But knowing the meaning of Chris’ fear of her father, he instead became drawn into his heartless gray eyes and his expression was one of irritability and anger.
Wade felt no less intimidated as his stern image shadowed his own in the doorway. Chris’ father sneered at him with menacing authority and with looks that could stop traffic.
“You look lost, son. There something I can help you with?”
His deep tone thundered through a terrified Wade and it was some time before he made any success with a response.
“Y-Yeah…I-I uhm…” Wade inadvertently took an audible gulp of air. “I’m here to see, Chris? You see…I’m Wade. Wade Griffin?”
But the Colonel appeared unabashed by the punk kid before him and raised one of his bushy eyebrows.
“Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?”
No Holding Back Page 27
