September Rain

by A.R. Rivera

34

  -Angel

  Analog Controller was playing third-second to last in a line-up of four bands. Huge improvement from the last time they played at The Mystic Muse. I wondered if that guy, Pierce, had anything to do with it, or if Analog was bumped up because he got a local TV and radio station to mention the show. Either way it was his doing. He wanted them bad.

  Once the sound checks were all done, the loitering band members began to disappear. Night rolled in as the club filled up. Noise and body heat increased, wrapping me in anticipation. Avery and I stood in the back, watching the first band come and go. They were pretty good, but lingered a little too long in between songs. They'd have to work on that or the bands they played with would get ticked off. No one wants to cut their set short to keep the show running on time.

  The next group was the Proselytes. They were a five man band I'd heard of, but never heard their stuff. When it came time for them to take the stage, the crowd pressed forward. I was pleasantly surprised when they started to play. They were pretty good. Gritty guitar and catchy hooks, but the drummer was definitely the star of that band. I didn't know anyone's names or the style they usually played, but when the sixth or seventh song started, it had a familiar guitar riff. The notes lingered clear and long, rippling through the joint. I was surprised that a hardcore punk band would cover an Aerosmith song-especially a slower one. They added a nice twist to it, sped it up a little, too.

  The singer, a skinny and shirtless twenty-something dude sporting a black and white Mohawk and an anarchy symbol tattooed on his left pectoral, addressed the crowd. "Thank you all for coming out tonight. Give it up for Anemic Psychos!" The crowd cheered for the headlining band. "This is our last song. One we're playing by special request for a friend. Everybody, give a shout for the next band, Analog Controller! Here's Jake Haddon!"

  I stopped breathing.

  People cackled and clapped while others screamed. Cheesy smiles and lighters littered the crowd as the punk-infused ballad played. Small flames waved in the smoky club, as Jake took center stage. Clad in my favorite black leather pants and grey wife-beater tank top, Jake was without the usual guitar when he put a microphone to his lips and belted out the first three words of a song that bore my name.

  My heart stopped. What the hell is he doing?

  He kept singing-brilliantly, giving Steven Tyler a run for his money-as his eyes searched for something.

  I glanced at Avery, whose mouth was hanging open. She shoved me forward. "Go, go, go!" We were still in the back, leaning against a pillar.

  "What?"

  She didn't answer.

  Since I was always front and center when Jake played, I figured that was where I should be right now and began wading into the cramped crowd. Voices sang along to every word of the sweet, sad, love song, encircling me. I moved forward, looking through a parade of raised hands and small licking flames, swaying to the song.

  It was all so surreal. My feet were stumbling, eyes glued to the crooning figure commanding center-stage. Then Jake found me. His face outshined the spotlight he was in. He pointed at me, mischievously grinning. A very cat meets canary type of smirk. The crowd held together in compacted layers. We were all caught in Jakes spell and as he locked his hazel eyes on me, beckoning me forward with a curling finger, the entire audience answered, forging toward the stage. Stances tightened as I snaked my way between shoulders, around pushy females and irritated guys. No one wanted to give an inch to let me by fearing they may not get it back.

  Then, there was a hulking body beside me. It moved in between me and the bodies that blocked my path. The bouncer cleared the way, dividing the restless natives to the right and left. Once he reached the edge of the stage, he stepped aside and waved me forward.

  Jake stood at the edge of his platform, just behind the bouncers shoulder. He leaned down, extending a hand from his high pedestal. There were anxious grabs from women and men waving for him, trying to wriggle into his grasp, but he shoved them back and took my hand. In between the monitors on either side of the narrow space, I had no idea how to navigate my way up with only one free hand and no steps.

  "Without your love-" Jake sang and gestured to the crowd, cupping one ear as if he were hard of hearing.

  Then the sounds around me changed. The strength of the melody flew out from the stage, lassoing the audience, possessing them. They were caught up in an anthem, evoked to chanting. There were shouts and whistles mingled with the sing-along. I caught people that looked too cool to know the words singing at the tops of their lungs. At one point, the music stopped and the crowd kept going.

  Jake had synchronized a room full of strangers with a wave of his hand. Amazing.

  Two big palms grabbed me and my feet lost the floor. Suddenly, I was on the stage, standing in front of Jake. I wanted to turn and catch his view, to face the crowd I had just waded through and see what he did, but couldn't bring myself to move. I was planted in place by the feel of all knowing eyes burning into my back.

  Jake locked me in that glowing gaze of his and took my left hand. He gave me a wink and dropped to his knees. My free palm flew to my mouth, covering my shock. He spoke into the microphone as the crowd continued to serenade us.

  "Baby, all I've got are my dreams and my last name." His voice came from everywhere. "I'd like nothing more than to share them both with you."

  The collective coos from the club roared as Jake set his microphone down and produced a ring. In the palm of his open hand-it was a simple golden band, so lovely it broke my heart.

  "You're proposing?" I finally managed to speak through the tether on my throat. My mind was racing a million different directions. Did he really want me for life?

  He gave me a heart-melting grin; lopsided and sweet. "Did you honestly think I would take you all the way to California just to live in sin?"

  The crowd was louder. They were still chanting but I couldn't tell what they were saying. It didn't sound like lyrics anymore, but I couldn't afford to listen. I was stifled by this sudden turn of events. Jake was proposing: he wanted to marry me. And I knew, deep in my gut, that I wanted the same thing. But did I want it at seventeen?

  The music started up again and Jakes smile grew intense while I pondered.

  What a question to ask! I thought. Because I had barely finished high school. I was in the midst of leaving everything I had ever known and following this boy to a strange place, a different state-a whole other world-in hopes of standing beside him, having the mere privilege of watching his dreams come true. And with this question, Jake was proving that he wanted me to do much more than watch. He wanted me to be a part of it, to participate, to make a new start together. To that honored request, I could only give one answer.

  I laughed into my hand and sank to my knees, leveling the field.

  Jake took up the microphone again and spoke into it so everyone could hear. "What do you say, baby? Will you have me?"

  I leaned towards him and the mic. "Hell yes!"

  My voice echoed for half a moment before everything broke into chaos. Jake took me with him as he got to his feet holding me so hard, I almost couldn't breathe. He shouted into my ear as the decibel level in the club shot up. Suddenly there were people crowding the stage. Music played much louder now as the band looped back into the breakdown.

  Black And White Mohawk was singing now. "You're the reason I live, you're the reason I die . . ."

  Clothes were flying. The crowd was nuts. Plastic cups and bottles littered everywhere around us.

  Dazed, I was passed from Andrew to Max, to every member of the Proselytes and who knows how many others. Everyone was hugging me and punching Jake, screaming their expletives and well-wishes over the noise before doing a stage dive into the crazy-ass crowd. I searched for Avery as I was passed from this person to that one, but didn't see her anywhere.

  By the time Jake got back to me, his shoulders and biceps were covered in red welts. But he had a huge smile and open arms t
hat I immediately leapt into.

  We kissed through the riotous racket of the audience and then were suddenly in the confines of a small room just off-stage that was meant for the bands to wait in while they were introduced. It was the room where Max had warmed up. I could see his drum pads set up on a small table in one corner beside a case of water bottles.

  "Were you surprised?" Jakes' eyes danced. His hands rested on the bare skin just above my jeans, holding me as I snaked my legs around his waist. He hunched low and shoved me against the wall beside a second door that led out to the hallway behind the stage, pinning with his hips. "You aim to marry me, Angel?"

  "I can't believe you did that!" My breathless laugh gave way to gasps when he pressed his lips to my neck. "Yes, Jake. I want you. Forever."

  He growled, smashing his body against me so hard it almost hurt. "And I'm aching now, because we've only got ten minutes and no place to go."

  I giggled again, overflowing with joy.

  "No locks on these damned doors." His fingers knotted into my hair, scratching my scalp, making me look at him. His eyes were blazing. Molten desire.

  I grabbed his red, bare shoulders and kissed each one. "Do they hurt?"

  "No," He cupped my face and pecked my forehead. "I'll keep you happy, Angel."

  The clouded look in his eyes made my heart prance. "Can I see my ring?"

  Jake shook his head, "Oh, yeah." He pulled away, letting my feet rest on the ground for the first time since we left the stage. "We have a day off in Phoenix and can get it sized there."

  I kept my mouth shut tight when Jake slipped the band onto my finger. It was beautifully simple and way too big. Even for my thumb.

  "This is the ring my grandfather gave to my grandmother. She had fat fingers, but they were married for sixty years, Angel."

  "Good omen." I choked on the words.

  Jake tucked an arm around me and eased my chin up, whispering. "My Angel, my Angel. I love to sing your name. I'll sing it my whole life."

  My insides liquefied with that smoldering poetry. His body radiated a heat that lit me on fire. The kiss that followed was pure, undiluted passion. His soft lips savored mine, spinning me, stretching time, encasing me in the weightless flames of his scorching tongue, burning me up and taking me down into the deepest depths of love. Every cell in my body was filled with worship and desire for him as he bit into my bottom lip.

  His hand gripped my throat in that way he had, shooting a grievous need for him deep into my belly. I moaned into his mouth when his fingers grazed the skin of my back. I reached around him and gripped his leather-clad behind. He was just describing the scandalous things he planned to do to me when a short rap on the door I was pressed against interrupted us. I felt it disappear as it opened. Jake kept me pulled into his chest while discreetly adjusting himself.

  I was surprised to see Max stepping inside the small room, looking between Jake and me with a nervous smirk. He'd actually knocked. "Hate to interrupt-" Jake guffawed at that-"but it's almost time, assholes."

  Andrew fell in behind him, bowing in an uncharacteristic, genial way. "Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations, assholes."

  Jake and me both smiled, but said nothing. I slid the huge ring off and pressed it into Jakes palm. His forehead lined with concern when he looked at it.

  "So I don't lose it," I explained and he relaxed.

  He looked nervous again as he stared out at the door to the stage.

  "As soon as we're done tonight, you both should go." Max muttered. "We'll load the stuff on our own."

  Jake slapped him on the back. "I don't know. Can I trust you assholes not to lose my shit?"

  "We'll get Gary to help." Andrew announced, looking behind me where old Long Tooth himself was ambling in. He smelled like beer. "You won't lose Jakes' shit, will you, Gary?"

  "Only if he asks me to; for insurance purposes." Gary smirked, looking at me and Jake. "That was priceless. I thought you were gonna faint, you looked so damn surprised."

  "I was." My face cracked into a beaming smile.

  "I could never do anything like that." Gary bellowed.

  His volume was sheer and bracing inside what was a quiet space. The band was usually somber, spending their last preshow moments reflecting on their goals for that nights' performance. Even though we'd been talking, every ones voices were subdued. The noise was outside. It was Jake's ritual, but that night he didn't seem to mind Gary's jovial air.

  "Man," Gary looked quizzically at Jake, "What if she said 'no'?"

  As if there was any danger of that, I thought, shaking my head.

  Jake answered, "That was the whole point. No way she'd deny me in front of a crowd."

  Gary nodded, thoughtfully, "Entrapment. Smart move," he turned to wield his loud manner at Max, inquiring about merchandise.

  Jake held me tighter, leaning in to whisper. "You know why I picked that song?"

  "The name?" I whispered back.

  I felt his smile against my cheek. "That song was playing the night I found you again. Angel was coming through the speakers. Angel was staring at my package." He chuckled when I gasped. "Don't you remember?"

  I leaned back, looking down at his body and taking in the sight: his taut torso beneath the ribbed cotton of his tank top, those sexy leather pants that hung on hips in just the right way. "I've always loved those pants."

  His breath tickled my ear. "You had that shitty band picture on your shirt, but my face was right over heart. I knew then, it was all mine."

  I turned my head up and pecked his cheek. How did he know that as I stood there in the hall that night, watching him walk away, that I had secretly given him my heart? "You have it always, Jake."

  The music from the clubs speakers cut-out. That was my cue. I took Jakes' hands in mine and kissed them, muttering my preshow blessing. "Kick their asses."

  Jake pressed a palm to my cheek and moved closer. The obvious hunger in his gaze had me pressing my thighs together, aching over how much fun we could have with only ten more minutes and a bathroom stall. Jake closed his eyes and granted me one last, knee-buckling kiss. Everyone was watching, but they said nothing. Even Gary must have known better than to screw around right before hitting the stage.

  After quietly showing myself out, I checked the hallway and bathroom before making my way back to the front, anxiously searching for Avery. It wouldn't be long before Analog's set started and I needed to be up front. A few people-girls mostly but some dudes, too-nodded and waived and mouthed more well-wishes as I made my way through the crowd. I could feel the heat in my cheeks rising with every blessing the strangers dispensed. I was so damn proud.

  I found Avery waiting up front with a huge smile and a Wet Floor sign propped near her feet. She was saving my spot at front row, center stage, directly in front of Jakes' mic stand. When I got to her, she tapped the security guard nearby and he removed the propped up sign, making room for me.

  "How does it feel Misses Analog Controller-I mean Misses Haddon?" Her hug was warm and fierce. "It's really coming together for you." When she pulled away her eyes were wet. "Congrats."

  She jerked her head, gesturing, "I better go punch a few bitches." She headed to the crowded spot right in front of Andrew like she always did. No punching was necessary; the girls already standing there moved aside.

  I planted my feet, preparing for the onslaught of the crowd that looked to have doubled in size since the last band played. A club staffer performed the final ritual set-up of Analog's last piece of equipment; taping up the set-lists. The houselights dimmed to black as the MC-slash-club manager announced the band.

  I heard the close shuffle of feet over the excited crowd that suddenly pushed from behind me and leaned into the pressure.

  The clicking count of Max's drumsticks further excited the throng. With the ring of the first note, the drums kicked in, the bass thumped, and lights flashed on. Shouts blasted like rapid gun fire. Fists went up, pumping the air.
>
  Jake's long, melodic enthusiasm was ringing above it all. "Yeahhhh . . ." he began. "This one's for my mother."

  I couldn't stop my bursting laughter. He was so bad-in the very best way. Jake looked down at me, gave a quick wink and tossed a foot on top of the monitor at his feet, leaning out, addressing the crowd with his sarcastic song about lies and revenge.

  I felt the building of the crowd behind me, pushing with renewed ferocity, inching me to the very edge of the stage as Jake played and sang. A glance back proved what I suspected. Before the first chorus, the mosh pit was going, bigger and badder than before. I turned my attention back to the stage, touching Jake's leather-clad legs when he leaned within reach.

  I sang along to every song and loved every second. It is what the stuff of sonnets, like he said. It was life and love and fun. It was Jake doing what he was born to do and I couldn't take my eyes off him.

  My magician cast a powerful spell.

  +++

  After the set, when Jake made his way out to mingle amongst the common-folk, I did my duty and stayed back. Though I wanted nothing more than to tackle him and drag him back to my room, I had to let the wannabe groupies-that night most of them looked old enough to be his mother-have their fun trying to charm him. But Jake was the one who did the charming. He smiled and signed shirts, EP's and flyers, a few arms, a boob. It was crazy.

  I watched him talk with the guy from the TV station. It was a short interview. The reporter congratulated him on his engagement and then jumped into questions about the changing music scene and asked Jakes' opinion on the new direction of Rock and Roll. There were so many different types of sounds converging in 1994. New genres were birthed, and Analog Controller seemed at the tip of it with their mingling of halted and melodic vocals poured over hard rock and punk influences. When the spotlight shut off, they asked Jake to spell out the name of the band and the venue where they would be playing the next night. The edited interview would air during the eleven o'clock segment.

  Once the reporter left, Jake introduced me to Pierce, who didn't look at all like I thought he would. For one, his teeth weren't pointed. They were bleached an unnatural white. Second, he was much younger than I'd assumed. With a name like Pierce, I imagined a balding, stuffed suit, but he had spiky blond hair and Bermuda shorts. He asked me my name and where I was from, and before I even answered, he launched into a technical critique of the bands performance, telling Jake he should consider playing a different guitar called an LTD, which lost me right away. I loved watching Jake talk, though. And the way he listened; with his eyebrows slightly crinkled and his full lips resting in a subtle pucker. He was so engaged in everything-a sponge wanting to soak up as much as he could whenever possible. As he conversed with Pierce, more people approached, interrupting and dragging his attention away. Soon Pierce was leaving, but the crowd around the band-namely Jake-grew. He talked to each person, taking their attentive questions and familiar postures in stride, though I knew he didn't like when strangers just threw their arms around him. But it was his element; he shined so bright inside it.

  To pass the time, I made my way over to the booth where the merchandise was being sold. Gary was there, peddling merch, taking cash for tee shirts and passing out free stickers to any girl he thought was cute.

  Andrew, who had followed me over, eyed him. "You know those cost a dollar each just to print."

  Gary, whose performance I completely forgot to watch, looked confidently back. "It's free advertising. Besides, I'm keeping track. I'll pay for'em."

  As Gary turned back to the line, Andrew found me, setting his sight on a spot next to me. He was staring at Avery who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. She grinned at me, smelling of sweet smoke.

  As Andrew walked over, Avery stepped in front of me, meeting him half way.

  He spoke right into her ear. Most of what I caught was mumbles, but I clearly heard Andrew say, "I'm going to tell him."

  Avery scoffed, "I should care because . . . ?"

  Andrew shook his head and made a slash across his throat with his thumb. The message was clear: a no-vote for poor Gary. My stomach plunged to my feet, taking my confidence with it. That chick was already in the lead and she hadn't even played yet.

  Those poisonous words crept back in.

  "Not yet."

  +++

  It was so late by the time Jake was done talking with all the new fans that we all just headed back to the motel together.

  Avery decided to take advantage of the empty pool and the warm air, heading out for a night swim. I was going to go with her, but Jake asked me to stay while the band talked about Gary's audition. He'd left a little while after Max demanded that he stop giving away merchandise. He paid them, at cost, for the stickers, and this upset both Andrew and Max because every band knows that merchandise is where you make your money. Club owners don't always pay up at the end of the night, but fans do. They want the souvenir concert tee and wrist band or sticker for their binder. And that night, they'd made a killing-but that was not the point. The point was that you don't give merch away unless you can afford to and Analog Controller could not.

  We were in a circle. Max and Andrew sat in the only two chairs at the small table near the window and Jake and I were sitting together on the side of the bed to face them. I pulled my legs under me, settling in to listen though I knew what was going to happen.

  "Gary's out." Max stated, swirling an open bottle over his lap. "You don't walk into a conditional situation and start making decisions without consulting the band."

  Jake nodded, but said nothing.

  "Sorry to say it, man, but I agree." Andrew looked to Jake, whose hand was moving along my thigh. "I know you don't want a girl in this and I get that. But he was wrong, dude. So, it's either Angelica or you keep doing what you've been doing."

  Jake turned to look at me. He took a deep breath. "What did you think of the show?"

  "It was fantastic. But you-you're vocals were so much stronger. It surprised me. I didn't realize how much you were holding back to play lead."

  "Yeah, man, I got a lot of comments from other bands, asking if you were taking voice lessons." Max chuckled. Andrew joined him.

  "Potheads" Jake almost smiled. "I wasn't restrained. Playing rhythm was easy. I could focus on singing."

  "You focused the shit out of that crowd." Andrew saluted with his water bottle.

  Jake sighed. "Basically, what I'm hearing is that if Angelica can play half as good live as she did in rehearsal, she's in?"

  "She's in." Andrew repeated.

  "And if she doesn't give our shit away." Max added.

  +++

  I held Jakes' hand on the way to my room. He was quiet, his shoulders set noticeably lower than a few minutes ago. Once we were inside, he coolly sat on the bed, holding his head.

  "You're taking this awfully well." The sarcasm was supposed to distract him, but he just sat there.

  "Do you ever get that feeling like something is about to happen?"

  "No. I'm always surprised." I thought he'd see the irony and laugh, but he stayed quiet. When Jake raised his head, I was shocked by the stress in his face. "You just had one of your biggest shows ever. You're signing with a record label . . . What is going on with you?"

  "I've had this knot in my gut for the past month and I can't figure it out."

  "It's probably nerves about all the changes that are happening. It's nothing."

  "Or maybe it's everything."

  I took a deep breath. The mood should have been buoyant. Happy. But Jake was a ball of stress. Those two words passed through my mind again and I felt frustration cover me like a blanket.

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "I don't know . . ." He looked down.

  I took my hand from his knee and sat back, irritated. "You know, but maybe you don't want to say it. You've been stressing since you told me about that girl. What I don't get is why?" Those two words played on repeat in m
y head. 'Not yet . . . Not yet . . . Not yet.'

  He nodded, picking at a string on the motel bed spread. I waited for him to say something to break the silence that felt very intense. He just kept pulling at the threads of the blanket. It wasn't like Jake to be so quiet. Not with me. We talked about everything. And that silence he was emitting felt like it spoke volumes, like he was trying to tell me something he couldn't say, something I didn't want to hear.

  "Not yet."

  I huffed, "Do you want my permission to fuck her?"

  His head snapped up. I saw a second of outright shock before his eyes blazed. "What the hell kind of thing is that to say to me?"

  "What else am I supposed to think?" I was just as shocked. I'd never spoken to him like that before. And asking the question out loud made me realize how ridiculous it sounded, but there was no other explanation that I could see.

  He grabbed my hand from my lap and pulled it towards him. "I just asked you to marry me and you're jealous? Over somebody you've never even met?"

  I had to scoot closer to keep from falling over. "I don't know why I said it. This isn't supposed to be about me."

  He kept pulling until he had my hand behind his back. I was cinched to his side by his unrelenting grip. "Sit in my lap." He ordered.

  I climbed up on his legs.

  "Facing me." He directed, and released my hand so I could turn to straddle him.

  Jake's flat eyes stared up at me. "Now, kiss me."

  I leaned down. He didn't move at all, didn't lean in or close his eyes. He just let me plant a soft peck on his stilled mouth. I retracted, my heart pounding at his non-response.

  He sighed, taking a long blink, setting his hands at my neck. There was a challenge in his eyes when he opened them. "That's not doing it for me."

  I felt tears pricking at the backs of my eyes and blinked, focusing on the way Jakes gaze was suddenly blazing with the dark fire I loved. My heartbeat slowed and kicked up again, not with fear or irritation, but with desire. The man had me thrumming on all cylinders with a simple look.

  "What do you want?"

  One side of his mouth quirked up, though his expression remained serious. "The world is full of beautiful girls, Angel. California is said to have the most. I've heard the songs, so I know."

  He tilted his head. "It's not easy to be the one waiting for me to give you the attention you deserve. I'm sorry you have to do that." He palmed my cheek. "But that is part of what I do and I need you to understand. None of those girls matter to me. You're my beauty, my everything, my soon-to-be wife. So fucking act like it." He smacked my backside. "That's what I want."