Hazed

by Nicole Howard

  Chapter 6

  All I See

  Some days I hate her for everything she’s put me through. Other days I’m scared I will never get over her. She has consumed my thoughts for so long that I don’t even know what parts of my memories are real and what parts are pure fantasy. So many times I have woken up beside Allison, feeling the familiar warmth of a body pressed against me and thought it was Ally. That I was just waking up from a nightmare, twelve months in the making.

  On the surface, things have been much better. I’m living again, dating again, sleeping again. I have an outlet for my emotions, and that outlet is bringing in a ton of money. I can perform again. The zombie-like version of myself has vanished, and I’m happy to be on the stage. Magazines are publishing articles and interviews that vomit images of unicorns and rainbows, with swimming pools of gold to be discovered at the ends. Perfect bullshit spewed about how we have risen to the top and have everything we could ever want within our grasps. On the inside, I’m a disaster. Every day is a struggle to keep up with the image I’m portraying. There are pieces I keep private, feelings I wouldn’t share with anyone.

  With money no longer being a concern, the idea of hiring a private investigator to find Ally was always at the back of my mind. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t called a few just to see how quickly they thought they could track her down. She grew up on the East Coast, so if I had to guess, that’s where I thought she would go. But Ally left for a reason and chasing her wouldn’t bring her back to me. If anything, it would drive her further away. What is the saying that all of the optimists in the world recite? If you love them, set them free? I call bullshit. If you love them, hold on tight.

  Another state, another city. We were preparing for our upcoming tour with a few teasers in some mid to small sized towns. Opportunities to try out our new set and stage concepts. These were my favorite concerts to play. Smaller venues, fewer interruptions and more time to get away from the job; more time out with the guys.

  “You guys ready?” Justin hollered from the hallway, somewhere between my suite and Ian’s. The hotel was small, and our label had blocked off two floors. One for the three of us and a couple of security and another for the rest of the band and stage crew.

  That night we were in Virginia; the fourth stop on this short six-week mini-tour. We had already put on shows in New Hampshire, New York, and Pennsylvania. Our backup guitarist, Ryan, was getting married once this tour ended, so the guys had organized a night out at a strip club to celebrate. Justin had done his research and found a hole in the wall club that was minimal risk of drawing unwanted attention. I had thrown on a pair of well-worn jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a ball cap. That look along with the three days of scruff I had grown would be enough to hide my public persona.

  We filled two SUVs and made the forty-minute drive from our hotel to the run-down dive. From the outside the standalone brick building was an eyesore, from the inside, it was a nightmare. The interior appeared to be designed by two people, one who was into the classic Italian Mafia scene and the other who was preparing for a Drag Queen strut off. There were three stages, each with a painted bright pink pole in the center and surrounded by red leather chairs. Most of the chairs closest to the stages were occupied, and a girl was dancing on each one. I cringed as I watched one of the girls with neon yellow pasties and a silver thong, grinding against the pole. Strip clubs were not my thing.

  Before long, eleven of us crowded around three tables that had been pushed together between two of the stages. I was on my fourth beer, leaning back into my seat in an attempt to let the girls walking around the club know that I wasn’t interested. I pulled the bill of my hat lower, hiding my face from anyone who came close enough. I downed my beer and listened to the music, tilting my head up often enough to see whether or not the girls on the stages were new. Ryan and the other guys, Ian and Justin included were busy whooping and hollering and shoving two-dollar bills down the backs of the girls’ thongs.

  An hour later and two more beers down, the girls on the back two stages left and the center stage lit up with orange lights, a hideous combination when added to the bright pink and red, but still my favorite color. My heart sped up as the dancer sauntered onto the stage. Her back was to us, her dark blonde hair piled on top of her head, hips moving in rhythm to the music. She was dressed in a white, sheer baby doll with nothing underneath, and I meant absolutely nothing.

  Her movements were fluid and familiar. Too familiar; Oh god. Who else would pick the color orange? My stomach churned, the beer sloshed. I was going to be sick. There was no way I was going to let these men see her naked. She was mine, not theirs. Not anyone’s. I flew out of my seat, trying to get her off the stage as quickly as possible. The bouncers had other plans, pinning me to the ground before I could even get my second leg up onto the stage. The commotion of the tackling caught the attention of the dancer, who turned around abruptly, revealing a face that looked nothing like Ally.

  “God Tim, what the fuck?” Justin stood over me, his arms crossed as a few of the other guys talked to the bouncers.

  “She looked like her.” My words slurred, drunk after six beers. That was a new record. “I…”

  Justin just shook his head. “You need to get over this. She’s gone and not coming back, Tim.” He reached out a hand to help me up. “You have Allison. Use her to forget.”

  His words were bang on. That was precisely what Allison was to me. She was a way to forget. All I have to do is close my eyes, and it’s Ally I’m kissing, touching, inside. It’s easy, and Allison believes the passion I have is for her, so it’s a win-win situation for both of us.

  Weekends with Allison while I was on tour, were weekends usually spent apart. Every once in a while, she would fly out to catch a show, but usually, she just did her own thing in her home town. She had grown up accustomed to her family’s business, so was fully aware of what life on the road was like for me. For her, it wasn’t a sacrifice; it was just expected. For me, it gave me too much time to notice things I shouldn’t be noticing.

  I wish I could say that the strip club was the first time I experienced an Ally mirage, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the second or third time. The first six months after Ally had left, I had trailed any thin young woman with dark blonde hair. Hell, I had even followed some girls with darker hair just in case Ally had colored hers. I had followed waitresses and shooter girls, dog walker and babysitters, the homeless and hookers. Every time with the same result, an off look from a face that looked nothing like the woman I loved.

  Over time, I became more selective on who I kept an eye on. They had to have her body type and move as I remembered. I would try to get close enough to hear her voice, avoiding any awkward face to face that my stalking would cause. Dozens of girls in dozens of cities and never once was it the real thing. Justin was frustrated. Ian was sympathetic. Both knew I needed to figure out how to move on, which is why when Allison came into our lives they encouraged me to see where it could lead.

  Even after meeting Allison, I couldn’t stop looking for Ally. I searched the faces in the crowd at a signing in a mall, watched people move through the airport from behind dark windows of secluded rooms, and scanned news reports for any sign that she was still around. I wanted to find her, even if she didn’t want to be found. I wanted to believe in the saying; believe that she would come back to me.

  After Virginia, we stopped in North Carolina and Alabama. The last and final stop of this tour was going to be Jackson, Mississippi. Our manager was keeping us busy on this stop, scheduling both the concert and a meeting with a highly requested producer who wanted to work with us for a soundtrack of an upcoming movie. The trade-off was that he would produce our next music video. It was an opportunity none of us wanted to pass up.

  The meeting was scheduled the night we arrived in Mississippi and was taking place in a high-class restaurant our manager had arranged. I was tired from the six hours we had spent on the bus traveling from Decatur
to Jackson, but I found the energy to pull myself together in a pair of khakis and a casual button-down shirt. If I had my choice, I would be showing up in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, but I knew this was important, and we had to make a good impression. Justin and Ian were already waiting for me by the time I came out of the hotel room. The three of us made our way down the stairway to the back door, where a car was waiting.

  We were seated in the back corner of the restaurant, away from the kitchen and the restrooms, to reduce traffic. Most times when all three of us were together, people recognized us quickly. Seating us here would mean fewer interruptions and distractions. The conversation between our manager and the producer was flowing nicely. We were on board to write and record three tracks for the upcoming movie, and he agreed to produce the music video for one of them. This meeting was more of a face to face than a negotiation, which was relieving.

  Our main courses had just arrived, and I was focusing on swirling pasta around my fork when a familiar laugh reached my ears. It was distant but definitely in the room. I stopped mid spin to listen more intently. The laughter continued, and I frantically searched, trying to find the source. The woman was on the other side of the dining room, at a table for two in deep conversation with a man at least twenty years her senior. Her hair was darker than the last time I saw her, but features were the same. She was stunning in a beige tight fit dress and was dripping in diamonds. They studded her ears, hung from her neck, and decorated her wrists and fingers.

  I kept watching. I knew I should look away; this was only going to tear me apart. She twirled her straw around in her drink, blinking at the man sitting across from her. God, he was old enough to be her father. She was flirting; I could feel the vibes from where I was sitting. And he was eating it up. Ally was playing him, gold digging. So far from the girl she was when we were together.

  My throat tightened as I watched him reach across the table and brush a piece of loose hair from her face. If she wanted things, I could have bought her things. She had never once come across as materialistic. I would have bought her anything she wanted. Is that why she left?

  My temper flared, my mind racing. Like hell, if she was going to get away with this. Before I could think twice about what I was doing, I was out of my seat and on my way across the dining room. My fists clenched and the muscles in my neck corded. I was ready for a fight, and I was going to lay this old man out. I stood at the edge of their table, waiting for them to notice my arrival. I wanted to look her in the eyes, let her know what she had done to me before throwing the first punch. He looked up first, but I didn’t care about him. He cleared his throat, earning Ally’s attention.

  She looked once at him before lifting her chin up toward me. I waited, blood boiling until her brown eyes met mine. Brown eyes that were not Ally’s.

  “Can I help you with something?” She stayed composed but looked perplexed. I stood there dumbfounded, speechless. It had happened again.

  “Uh, no.” I shook my head. “I thought you were somebody else.” I turned on my heels, walking back to our table and sat down without looking at anyone. I remained quiet, while the dinner awkwardly concluded. When we left the restaurant, I didn’t even want to ask what the excuse had been for my erratic behavior. I just wanted to get in the car and head back to the hotel. Justin had other plans.

  “What is it going to take to get her out of your system?” He demanded, grabbing my arm to turn me in his direction. He was completely fed up. “She didn’t care, Tim. She left. I don’t know why you are moping around over a girl who was a coke head. You two weren’t good for each other. Let this shit go and move the fuck on.” He was yelling, his voice carrying over the crowd of people, barely glancing in the direction of his outburst.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I turned my back on him.

  “Well we didn’t want a public scene, but you didn’t seem to care about that.” He moved quickly to get in front of me. “People took pictures, Tim. Your little hissy fit is going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow.”

  “What?” I’d had tunnel vision in the heat of the moment.

  “This needs to stop. I don’t care if you need to hold a satanic ritual and burn everything that reminds you of Ally, but this craziness needs to stop. You’re going to destroy us.” Justin threw his hands up in the air and then turned, leaving me in his dust.

  That night I didn’t sleep. I had laid awake in the bed, staring and the ceiling while making decisions. Justin had a point, for all I had gone through to come out on the other side, I was still letting myself get pulled back in. I needed to move forward in my life, and that meant saying goodbye to things that reminded me of her.

  Before the sun rose, I was working. Guitar in my hands and sheets of music across the bed. I was going to put to rest one last song for Ally. One last out pouring of emotion, memories. And once this was done I was going to call Allison and talk to her about buying the beach house she wanted to share. And last, but not least, the hair Ally loved needed to go.

  Chapter 7

  Old Friend

  Friday morning began with Maggie driving me to drop Kenzie off at her daycare. I hugged and kissed my baby girl goodbye. Sarah would be picking her up when she got off work. I had already prepared everything she would need for her stay in my apartment.

  “You ready?” Maggie asked as I climbed back into the car at daycare.

  I glanced back at the brick building, focusing on the bright lettering painted on the large bay window. “More than ready.”

  “Good, because I downloaded every Hazed song I could find. We can listen to them on the way.” She was tapping her steering wheel impatiently, her bright red painted nails catching my attention.

  “I have a surprise for you then,” I smirked, pulling my eyes away from the red distraction of her nails, reaching down to grab CDs from my purse. “Unreleased tracks.” I slide the disc on top into the slot.

  “How did you manage that?” Maggie questioned, turning up the volume.

  “You have your connections; I have mine.” I laughed. How true that was. We listened to their music the entire drive to San Antonio. Maggie only made one pit stop during the four-hour drive, so we reached our hotel just a little after one.

  “Do you want to go shopping?” I asked Maggie as we carried our bags up to our room. The hotel was packed, every room booked. I was confident the majority of the guests were here for the concert, considering they were mostly girls wearing Hazed T-shirts while discussing the boys of Hazed.

  I heard Tim is even more gorgeous in person. One girl chimed, standing in a circle with several other teenage girls.

  He’s single too. Another commented.

  I hope he marries me! A girl in pigtails wished aloud.

  “I would hope he would never marry a teenager.” Maggie laughed, as we walked by the group of girls. She had apparently been listening as intently as I had. “I mean he’s twenty-five, I can’t imagine him with a girl in high school.”

  A hard laugh escaped my lips, unconsciously. “I doubt Tim would marry a fan, period.” I unlocked our room. “Here we are.”

  As soon as our bags were in the room, we left for our shopping trip. I had never been to the mall in San Antonio, so we walk by the stores, stopping at the ones that looked worthwhile.

  “So how was your night with Luke?” Maggie asked, stopping to buy a coffee.

  “Don’t even ask,” I ordered myself a hot chocolate.

  “Why? What happened?” She took a cautious sip from the cup.

  I mirrored her, also taking a sip of my drink. “Luke told me that he loves me.” I quickly took in more of the hot liquid, burning my tongue. “And I might have said it back, but we were in the middle of an argument. I don’t know why I said, or even if I should have. Everything was heated and out of control. We’ve never fought before.” I played with the cup between my hands.

  “Oh wow, and you said not to ask,” Maggie exclaimed. “This is huge! Love.” She smiled giddily.
“Everyone fights. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

  “It was stupid really,” I responded. “I think you’re right; we’ll be okay. He doesn’t seem to want to let it affect us, and I don’t want it to either.” I stepped away from Maggie, avoiding any more prodding. “Let’s go find something to wear.”

  I found the perfect outfit, a burnt orange, sleeveless, button-up dress with a thin, brown belt. I added a pair of tan boots, which hit just below my knee. Orange was Tim’s favorite color, and when I tried it on it looked amazing. Maggie bought a simple black maxi dress. We had to rush when we finally got back to the hotel room. I barely had time to finish my hair and makeup before we had to leave. Maggie had taken a couple of selfies before we left the room.

  The stadium was packed, and the atmosphere was insane. Music played in the background as we made our way down the stairs to the floor. We found our assigned seats quickly. Maggie had scored amazing tickets; we were only four rows from the stage.

  My heartbeat was in overdrive as we inched closer to the boys’ performance. My stomach churned with nervous anxiety as the opening band played. Their music was lost on my ears. I bit my nails, restless and impatient. The moment was almost here, the moment Tim would be in front of me. Truly there. In the flesh. Maggie and I didn’t move from our seats during the intermission. The flood of people, mostly young girls was intense. My senses peaked as the lights finally dimmed again. The crash of the music was almost unbearable.

  There he was. It was Tim. My Tim. His hair was short. He must have recently had it cut since I hadn’t noticed it being short in any of the magazines. The noise level grew, making it impossible to hear him. I hadn’t been on this side of the stage since we first met.

  “Oh my god!” Maggie screeched. “I can’t believe it. Those boys are so hot!” She didn’t take her eyes off the stage. I didn’t either, although my attention was focused entirely on one person. Tim didn’t see me. In reality, he wasn’t able to see anyone, with the stage lights reducing their visibility to shadows at most.