by Nora Flite
His lips moved, mouthing the word softly. “Honesty? You think that's what matters?”
“Yeah.” There wasn't a tremor of doubt in my voice. How could there be? “It's what allows people to be themselves, to be free and unconstrained.” It's what will keep Lola and I together.
My heels cut down the concrete hall. Not once did I look back, not even to see the proof that my father was looking after me with the regret I'd wanted him to understand, to truly know, back when I was merely a teenager.
I was finally done with my father.
But there was more to do before I could return to Lola.
Chapter Four.
Lola
Johnny took a sip from his coffee. It looked cold, made me curious how long he'd nursed it. I thought he was nursing the information, too. Like he was counting the seconds, enjoying being the center of attention again. Finally, Johnny bent low in my direction. “I'm only telling you this, because you should know the kind of man Drezden is.”
The kind of man he is. I reminded myself to breathe.
“His name isn't Drezden Halifax.” I could see the shiny purple circles under his eyes as he stared at me. “It's Anthony Holland.”
Sean had warned me, told me Drezden wasn't really his name. I still wasn't prepared. The knowledge was a solid stab in my chest, my lungs whistling. “So what?” I said suddenly, delirium building in my need to defend the man. “Lots of rockstars use fake names. Why does it matter?”
Under the table, something poked me. One glare from Sean told me he'd kicked me with his toe.
“It's not that he has a stage name,” Johnny said. The anxiousness in my tone was rivaled by the rising excitement in his. “It's the reason.”
My ears were ringing, and fuck, my heart wouldn't stop racing. “Give me the reason.”
That smile was wicked, lacking sympathy in every corner. “Drez uses a fake name so that it can't be traced back to his dad. The bastard put his own fucking father in jail.”
“I—he what?” His father? What the hell?
“Drez beat the shit out of his dad, yeah.” Thin fingers ran through greasy, unkempt hair. “Fucked him up and got him arrested, never gave a shit about the guy, I guess.”
When had I started shaking my head? “That doesn't make sense, why would he do that?”
“What does it matter?” Sean snapped, gripping the edge of the tiny table. “If he could do that to his own dad, the guy has fucking issues! I told you he was dangerous.”
Johnny snorted, peering at us both. “That's for sure. He cold-cocked me, remember? I didn't do fuck all to him. If he wanted me out, he didn't need to punch me to do it—”
“Stop.” I don't get it. “Just stop a second.” This makes no sense. My temples were throbbing. “If his dad went to jail, it means he did something wrong.”
Drezden had to have a reason.
The man across from me scowled. “What, you think they needed a reason to put me in jail, too? Sometimes people end up behind bars when they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That means... you don't even know what happened between him and his dad, right?” I knew they all heard my exhilaration. I couldn't bury it, I was jumping at every sign that Drezden wasn't to blame for the violence.
Johnny's forehead wrinkled, his scowl even deeper. “Maybe I don't know the details—”
“And it doesn't matter!” Sean cut in.
“—But I know the important shit. Drezden hates his dad, and if anything, would love to see the guy dead.”
Acid bubbled in my stomach. “You know that how?”
“Why change his name, why would he want nothing to do with the guy?” Johnny's voice had a wild edge; I watched the coffee cup shake, ready to topple. “You tell me! You fucking put the pieces together. The night after we officially formed the band...” He stopped, shooting a look at Sean's wince.
Right. Johnny took the spot Sean auditioned for.
It had been easy for me to forget the tie my brother had to all this. I'd only learned about it recently. Now, the picture was forming in front of me.
In the back of my brain, I felt a tickle of foreboding. Does Sean have some other reason for wanting me to meet Johnny? Something beyond telling me these awful things—lies or not—about Drezden?
“Anyway,” Johnny mumbled, scratching at the side of his neck. “Me and the others—Porter, Colt... We all ended up in this graveyard, and Drezden was drunk as all get out. He fucking—the guy was nuts!” Johnny was gesticulating, growing more and more manic as he spoke. “Guy got angry when I tripped over a headstone. He, like, jammed me hard in the ribs with his fist.” For emphasis, he jabbed at the air. “Like that! Fucker hit me so much, just kept pummeling me! Bam! Told me to respect the dead, even as he went on yammering about the dead being forgotten or something.”
It wasn't long before I was leaning backwards. This story, it's... it's insane. It can't be real.
“It's where the name comes from,” he said, blinking like he'd just noticed me. “Four and a Half Headstones, I mean. Drezden figured it fit us, a grim fucking meaning—something like, a half headstone exists to remind us we'll be forgotten someday or... I don't, shit. He was just crazy. Okay? Drez was always a crazy fucking—” An abrupt, sharp ringing came from my brother.
Both of us stared as Sean fumbled for his phone. “Sorry,” he said, doing a double-take at the number. “Ah, fuck. It's Shark, hang on. I need to take this.” Shoving the chair back, Sean stood and cupped the phone to his ear. “Man, hey,” he whispered, walking towards the door, “I'm in the middle of a thing—wait, he what? Shit!”
I jumped, stunned by the explosion of emotion. Sean hunched over, grumbling into the phone and walking back and forth. The man behind the coffee counter was staring, too. My brother was acting like a caged lion.
“Fine, yes. I'm on my way.” He shut his phone violently. “We need to go back. Caleb's a fucking moron. Shark just called to tell me he got himself drunk in public this morning, now he's in a holding cell.” Shaking his head rapidly, my brother laughed. “It's like, god damn five in the evening. The asshole started drinking at ten and just—I need to go down and break him out.”
I was fine with this. Meeting Johnny had done little but cement his unstable, lying nature in my heart. The former guitarist had to be exaggerating, he just had to be. Feeling freed from the tension Johnny was building in me, I stood on eager legs. “Alright. Let's just go back.”
A hand touched mine, freezing me. “I want to tell you more. Hell,” Johnny snorted, “I feel like I need to. There's so much shit—I can tell you more, stay here and just hear me out. Get it?”
I jerked my arm away; his touch had been so oily. “Uh, look. Maybe another time, sure.” I looked to my brother. He was antsy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I understood his worry; he needed to get his singer out before tomorrow, or his band couldn't play at all. “We're in a hurry. Sorry, another time.” There's no way I'm hanging around here alone.
“Oh, okay! I'll just—okay, another time then,” Johnny shouted after me. “Nice to finally meet you, Lola!”
I didn't feel the same.
“I'm going to drop you off at your tour bus,” Sean said, guiding the van out onto the road.
Eyeing the sky, mulling over Johnny's words, I shook my head. “Actually, could you drop me off at the Hilton?” I want to talk to Drezden.
The clouds were looking foreboding as we drove. Sean's headlights made the pavement a muddy yellow. The color reminded me of Johnny's skin. Frowning, I wiped at where he'd touched me. “So, listen. Has Johnny been living in a gutter or what? He looked awful.”
My brother's laugh was tight, sour as bad wine. “Close enough. I met up with him this morning at the Greenmill Motel. Guess that's where he's been for a few days.”
That sounded... strange. We only rolled into the city yesterday. Was Johnny just... here, waiting for us? He had to know the tour would end in Seattle. Thinking of the guy, gaunt and
edgy, hanging around in a filthy motel just waiting for everyone to arrive...
It made my insides queasy.
“Did you believe what he said?” Sean asked suddenly, not glancing at me.
Fidgeting in the seat, I watched the road. “Not really. Some of it, but—come on. Sean, that guy is crazy. One look at him and you could tell.”
“He could be crazy and right about Drezden.”
Twisting, I narrowed my eyes on my brother. “What was this really about? Do you want to help me find out about my boyfriend, or are you just trying to prove to me that he's some sort of violent psycho?”
Sean just clenched his jaw in silence.
Slumping in the cushion, I pulled my hood over my head. “Guess I already knew the answer to that.”
“Lola—”
“You brought me to meet someone like Johnny Muse because you wanted me to think Drezden was dangerous.”
“He is dangerous!” Sean snapped, crushing the steering wheel.
No, I thought morosely, it's Johnny's who's dangerous. Not the man I—what? Love? Closing my eyes, I pictured Drezden's face; his hard edges and wild green eyes. All I wanted was to see him, even just to talk to him and confront him with Johnny's accusations. He might get mad. But let him.
There were nuggets of truth in Johnny's words. I wasn't sure which parts, but Drez had to explain. He just had to tell me what had happened with his—with his father.
The drive to the Hilton couldn't go fast enough.
****
It was drizzling as we rolled up to the tall building. Even with the surge of bleak weather, people were milling around, covering their heads with jackets to stay dry as they could.
My seat belt was unlocked; Sean's hand on my shoulder kept me sitting. “Lola, I know you're confused.”
“I'm not confused.” Mostly. There were a lot of questions running wild, jabbing at me, but I had come to a conclusion as we drove. There was one person who could tell me the truth, and chasing after other sources had given me nothing but a bitter aftertaste.
Drezden is the only one who can tell me everything.
“I—Lola, just...” Letting me go, Sean leaned back so fast his elbow banged the window. Amazingly, he didn't act like he felt it at all. “You're stuck on wanting to believe that Drezden isn't to blame for any of the crap he's pulled.” Though I listened, I never took my attention from my knees. “But even if you imagine he has 'reasons' or whatever, can't you see he's still responsible for the violence? Hitting Johnny, fighting with his father, and... and the bastard even got into a fight with me.”
My neck ached from how fast I turned to stare. “He what? When?”
Shame danced on the corners of my brother's lips. “The day you came back late, the night we played in Aspen. It got a little tense in the parking lot.”
“A little tense?” What the hell? “You and my boyfriend fought and neither of you told me! Why would you hide that?” The unspoken words were there; why hide that if he was trying to convince me Drezden was dangerous?
Sean flicked his gaze at me, then away, all too fast.
Pinpricks of heat traveled up my neck. “You didn't tell me because you started it, didn't you?” My brother was unmoving, staring blankly into the distance. “Sean. Sean, that's it, isn't it? Why else would you not—”
“Yeah! Fine!” His fist came down, hitting the wheel with a thud. “I thought you were hurt, or worse! Your shitty boyfriend was more than happy to be in that scuffle though, trust me on that.” He was no longer avoiding my glare, but the rage in his face didn't make me shy away.
I was pissed off, too.
“If you want me to listen to the shit you're saying, Sean... don't try to dodge around the facts. You're a fucking hypocrite. Tell me why you've been doing this. Why are you so obsessed with making Drezden into a monster?” Nothing in me moved. I didn't breathe, I even wondered if my blood had gone still. I wanted Sean to say something—anything—to justify his actions.
A flicker of pain bloomed in his stare. “I need to go pick up Caleb.” Hanging his chin to his chest, my brother shut away the hurt.
I'd felt that fragment of distress and shame in the most vulnerable part of my core. Hiding it now wouldn't erase the moment. “Please, Sean. Why is this all so important to you? It's not even about me anymore... is it?”
“Of course it's about you.” His voice was weak, unconvincing. “It's always been about you.”
My body moved in a rush, folding across the middle of the van, encasing my brother in a hug before either of us could react. Has it always been about me? His claim was a cry for help, but I wondered if he realized. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled against his shoulder. “Sean, I'm really just—I'm sorry.”
“Lola? What the hell?” His body was tense, but he gave in like it was muscle memory. The times he'd hugged me, protected me, it flooded back into both of us. I felt the barrier cracking in a sudden shatter. “Why are you apologizing?”
“I don't know,” I sniffled, wiping at my eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“I don't know!” A hiccup choked me, broke my sudden tears and turned them to uneasy laughter.
Sean's arm crushed me against him, held the back of my head. He was shivering, relieved chuckles shaking free from him, too. “You're ridiculous.”
“You're worse than that.”
Rubbing my shoulder blades, he breathed out loudly. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
We sat in the car, listening to the rain. It reminded me of standing under an umbrella while Sean warned me about Drezden. Clarity rolled up my spine. “It was about Drezden, not me. You've been angry at him for so long, haven't you?”
Gingerly, my brother eased me off of him. His blue eyes were rimmed in red; I noticed the spider-veins crawling in the whites. How long had those been there? “Drezden messed with my head—with everything—that day.”
That day. He didn't have to say it. Sean was talking about the audition. “Tell me what happened.”
“It wasn't even—lord, I don't know. It's hard to explain.”
Reaching for his hands, I cupped them. “Just try, I want to know.”
His face was pale in the shadows. “I drove all the way upstate when I heard there was an audition. I'd heard of the band back then—they were called Nothing Forsaken, before their manager signed them and everything.” Sean flexed his fingers in his lap, frowning. “I showed up, and Lola... I played my god damn heart out. I was—” He cut himself off with a bark of cold laughter. “I was so sure I had the position. I was so stoked, how could I not be picked?”
A roll of thunder outside shook the sky. I was too focused on Sean to react. “And?”
Closing his fists, my brother gave me a sad smile. “And Drezden told me to leave. I asked him why.” Gritting his teeth, he resembled a snarling dog. “The asshole told me—get this—he said he knew my type. Knew the kind of guy I was! He said some bullshit like, 'someone who thinks they're owed the world, who gets angry and bitter when things aren't handed to them... someone like that doesn't have what it takes.'”
My mouth was hanging open. Not because of what Drezden had told my brother, but because Sean remembered every last word of that sentence. He's been going over that in his head for years. Reliving that day. Holy shit.
“He asked me something, too,” Sean muttered hotly.
My throat felt parched. “What was it?”
Sapphire eyes looked through the front window. They stared into the past, seeing a fateful day instead of the innocuous rain. “He asked me, 'what makes a good guitarist?'”
The hairs on my body stood on end so tight, it hurt me. I was asked the same question. “What did you answer?” I asked eagerly, my curiosity turning my stomach in knots.
He fell back in his seat, arching his neck and watching the ceiling. “Talent. I told him that talent was what made a good guitarist.”
My heart was stuffing itself into my throat. “What did he say?”
There, the cr
ooked, cynical smile I knew so well. “He told me I was wrong. He responded, quite eloquently, 'fuck off.' So I kicked over his amp, and then I left.”
The pounding in my skull wouldn't stop. That's what this was all about. A grudge, a several years long grudge. Drezden had called it. I remembered the night we'd had dinner, my first night spending time with Headstones. Drezden asked me if my brother was still pissed about what had happened. Brenda told him to stop worrying.
Drezden was right all along.
The revelation was too much for me. “You held onto the hate this entire time. Why would you tell me to audition for Four and a Half Headstones if you hated Drezden so much?”
“Because I care about you more,” he said flatly, eyebrows crawling high. “Because I still wanted you to make it big. I guess I just wasn't as good at watching it all happen right in my face.”
Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I debated on my next comment. “When you asked me to join your band, you just wanted to throw Drezden under the bus. It wasn't about bringing me on so we could play together and make it to the top... it was about watching him lose.”
My brother was shaking his head before I finished. “No, no! Fuck, no, Lola. Yeah, okay, a big part of me wanted Drezden to fall apart after... after what he said to me. After what he made me feel about myself, my skills.” His lips pulled back, low and twisted. “But I did want to see us both make it to the top.”
“I'm already at the top,” I whispered cynically.
“I know.” His hand clasped on my shoulder, that smile brittle as porcelain. “I wanted to feel what it was like, too.”
Tears threatened to bubble back up; I pushed them down with a deep breath. “Promise me you won't give up your dream. We can both still be big rockstars... together. Okay?”
“Okay.” That time, it was Sean who started the hug. I wanted it to go on forever, for the two of us to feel the waves of love and joy that had been missing for far too long. This was my big brother, the guy who had taught me everything, been through so much with me—and for me. I wanted him to be happy... I'd thought I'd known where his pain and struggle came from...
