Chapter 12 City Song
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City Song
Leaf was grateful for every pause that gave him the opportunity to savor his high.
Again and again, the blend of partially psychedelic sounds and his own guitar playing put him into a trance-like state.
When Tristan started to beat the rhythm on his thigh with a tambourine, accompanying the bass drum, Leaf felt like his head was stuffed with cotton wool.
Luckily, his fingers worked on autopilot, even though his brain seemed to malfunction at times.
As he lost himself in the music, Tristan rediscovered himself as a singer with each song. It was as if he was remembering his former self, and the charismatic frontman emerged more and more, captivating not only the audience but also Leaf, who longed for him so much that it tore him apart inside.
Since Tristan had returned, Leaf had been struggling with feelings he couldn’t quite place.
He was glad that the cocaine was currently taking effect because it paralyzed the monster in him, which wanted nothing more than to drag Tristan into one of the studios, tear his clothes off, and have his way with him.
Shit, how am I going to get through this if he doesn’t know what I’ve done?
When Tristan started the “City Song” and recited the lyrics with his deep voice like poetry, goosebumps rippled across Leaf’s skin.
No matter if Tristan recited lines, sang gentle melodies, or screamed his soul out with a raspy voice, he proved the uniqueness of his lyrics with every note and how he could express himself in countless ways through his music.
Leaf took a deep drag on his cigarette, waiting for his cue, which only came in the second half of the song, all the while observing Tristan.
Pushing the Schecter to his back, the singer closed his eyes and traced small loops in the air as he stood beside the microphone.
His hand followed his intonation, while the drums and bass weightlessly carried his voice through the rehearsal room with a steady rhythm.
Tristan exuded strength and confidence, a calmness that reassured those around him and made them believe that everything was fine.
Even the warmth in his voice comforted Leaf despite all the pain that held him captive.
Tristan brought the guitar forward and struck a chord.
His voice grew stronger, deepening Leaf’s sadness.
Leaf’s body trembled at Tristan’s presence, feeling the intensity and magic in the fleeting moments when the silence between the sounds froze.
When Tristan switched to his head voice, it felt as if the sun broke through a slate-gray cloud cover and bathed the world in golden light.
Leaf breathed deeply, hoping that the brightness would also reach the all-consuming darkness inside him.
But Tristan’s strength wasn’t genuine. The music had become his armor. He sang, stood right in front of him, but seemed distant. Usually, Tristan disconnected and disappeared between the lyrics and melodies. He was still there but unreachable for someone like him, who had caused him all this pain.
Before guilt buried him like a wave, he exhaled the smoke and stubbed out the cigarette. Then he adjusted the guitar and waited for his cue. Suddenly, he felt a slight tremor in Tristan’s voice, prompting him to glance at him again.
Is he struggling with every single word that comes out of his mouth?
Tristan was surrounded by a silent emptiness. When their eyes met, he saw it reflected in his gaze: the longing for indifference and distance.
Remorsefully, Leaf turned his head away. He couldn’t give him what he needed. Damn it, he was searching daily for something to ease his own battle within himself.
When Tristan’s verse ended and Andrej led in with his bass for the second part, Leaf switched the pedal and joined in after the bridge. His fingers did what they had to do, distracting him enough from his existence to find peace again.
Only when the song ended did he dare to peek at Tristan again. He still stood upright, holding the guitar tightly, and staring at the microphone.
“That was good,” José said, adding a fill. “Shall we play something else? Maybe ‘Doors to Time’?”
Tristan lifted the guitar off his head, indicating that there would be no further songs, because with ‘Doors to Time,’ he would have kept playing.
Without a word, he set the Schecter down in its stand and made his way to the couch.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his small notebook and a pen, then sat cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the table, ready to write.
Leaf felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Yes, Tristan couldn’t be alone, but in moments like these, he shut out the whole world around him and didn’t even notice. Helplessness spread through Leaf, and he tore his gaze away from him.
Andrej and José were waiting, and by the way they studied him, it seemed they hoped he was at least up for a jam session.
Leaf switched the pedal back and nodded to the two of them.
Jamming with José and Andrej had always been cool.
When the three of them played together, it was often jazz or funk.
While Leaf could lose himself best in the rocky solos, jazz also helped him escape his demons.
It was like taking a deep breath. The tightness in his chest disappeared, and his head cleared.
In doing so, he lost all sense of time. When José, on silent orders from Andrej, ended the song, forty minutes had passed.
Leaf immediately felt the longing return.
He could have kept playing forever, but Andrej turned off the amp, unplugged the bass, and packed it into its case.
“I gotta go. Kathy’s waiting.”
“Kathy?” José asked, confused. “Wasn’t her name Victoria?”
Andrej glanced up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Victoria? That was last week. She was classy.” He left the bass in its case on the stand and grabbed his jacket. “Interview’s tomorrow, Tris. I’ll pick you up!” And with that, he rushed out the door.
At least he’s not bringing the women here anymore, Leaf thought, his gaze inevitably drifting to Tristan.
He had also been annoyed by the commotion and had banned groupies from being invited—which, of course, Andrej didn’t like.
But since the building belonged to Leaf and it annoyed him just as much, Andrej had no choice but to give in.
Meanwhile, José had also set aside his drumsticks and got himself a drink.
Although a fan was spinning on the ceiling, it was still hot in there.
Leaf placed the guitar on the stand, wiped the sweat from his face, and lit a new cigarette.
It was more refreshing than the lukewarm beer still sitting on his amplifier.
“Here,” José said, tossing him a water bottle before sitting on the couch with his phone in hand.
Leaf drank half the bottle, then poured some into his hand and wiped it over his face and through his hair.
Tristan was still immersed in his lyrics, in his own world, detached from the here and now. With one leg stretched out on the floor and the other bent, he scribbled intently in his black notebook.
Somehow, Leaf felt relieved. At least not everything had changed, and a band rehearsal still acted like an inspirational bomb on Tristan.
He feverishly filled page after page in handwriting that no one but himself could decipher.
Leaf picked up his acoustic guitar with steel strings and sat next to Tristan on the couch.
“I gotta go,” José said. “My brother’s asking for a ride.”
“Where is he?”
“At the university. Apparently, a class got canceled, and his car is still in the shop.”
Leaf strummed a few chords and nodded to José.
“See you, Tris,” José said, patting him on the shoulder before leaving.
Tristan raised his free hand, as if to let José know that it wouldn’t be much longer.
“It’s okay, don’t let me stop you,” José said with a broad grin as he left the Gaucho.
The moment the door closed behind him, Leaf was brought back to the distorted reality.
Tristan and him. Alone. Five weeks ago, they would have been all over each other, because since Andrej stopped bringing groupies, they often had the rehearsal room to themselves.
But right now, it felt as if he had forgotten how they used to get along.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t and shouldn’t pounce on Tristan.
He didn’t deserve it. Not as long as Diego …
Leaf took out his phone and opened the chat with Diego. He had reached out countless times and sent numerous messages, all of which had gone unanswered. He couldn’t even see when Diego was last online. The guy had disappeared, and four weeks had passed.
“Where are you?” Leaf typed in annoyance. In every single message, he had so far avoided cursing or insulting Diego in any way. He knew him too well to know that the Mexican wouldn’t respond to that kind of thing.
For a while, he stared thoughtfully at the display.
Yes, he knew Diego well, and that worried him because Diego wasn’t one to disappear.
He had never done that. The guy was a self-aggrandizing, arrogant asshole who wasn’t afraid of anything.
He continued his illegal business, mocking the cops who still hadn’t caught him after seven years.
It was high time that changed. Somehow. If his own guilt was barely bearable, he could at least ensure that Diego got what he deserved. But first, he had to find him.
He switched to the chat with Ariana, Diego’s sister, whom he had also texted to several times.
It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t respond.
Just because he had hooked up with her a few times didn’t mean that they had a relationship.
But when he got together with Tristan and had given her the cold shoulder after the tour, he was dead to her.
Suddenly, Tristan turned to him and placed his hand on his knee. “Let’s go.”
Leaf put the phone away. “Where to?”
“To your place.”
The sparkle in Tristan’s eyes was unmistakable, but the thought that it might be directed at him he couldn’t allow. Just the hand on his knee sent crackling currents through his leg, gathering warmth in his core. Fortunately, he still had the guitar on his lap.
“We could grab something at the Mongolian first,” Tristan suggested.
“Okay.” Although he longed solely for the next high, he knew it had been too long since he’d eaten anything.
And what comes after that?
He pushed the thought aside and placed the guitar in its case. Grabbing his phone and wallet, he turned toward the exit, where Tristan was already waiting next to the light switches. On the table, amid the ashtrays and empty beer cans, still lay the phone Andrej had brought him.
“Aren’t you taking that?”
Tristan waved it off. “Don’t need it.”
They turned off the lights, locked the door to the rehearsal room, and got into Leaf’s car, which he had parked right outside.
The merciless sun blazed down on the city, squeezing sweat out of every pore.
The air in the car was so hot that it was hard to breathe.
At least the air conditioning was working.
To his surprise “City Song” was playing on the radio, given they had released “Silverlights” as the first single from their new album. When the song ended and the host started talking again, Tristan turned off the radio.