Chapter 41 O Captain!
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O Captain!
Elbows propped on his knees and face buried in his hands, Tristan sat on the couch in the dressing room, peering through his fingers at the bottle of Jack Daniel’s and the half-full glass in front of him.
It was already the third glass. Not that the previous ones had been full, but one hadn’t come close to enough, and two weren’t sufficient.
So now there was a third, waiting for him.
O Captain! My Captain!
If only you could see this mess.
He had retreated here after the police had come, cleared out the Whisky, and taken Leaf and Diego into custody.
Loud voices could be heard in the hallway.
The excitement among the organizers, the bar staff, and the musicians was greater than ever.
After all, this time they had made it to the second-to-last song.
It was a shame they couldn’t properly thank and bid farewell to the audience, but all Tristan could think about right now was Leaf.
Keeping an eye on him. How is that even possible now?
He heard a click and looked up. Nathan was standing in the doorway with his camera. Apparently, he had just taken a few photos of him.
Sure, and he’s got the exclusive rights to the second disaster.
How much more can Nightstalker take?
“Sorry about what happened,” the photographer said, sitting down next to him on the couch. “Really messed up.”
Tristan reached for the glass and downed it in one gulp. The heat ran down his throat, and he grimaced. Then he poured himself another finger’s width of whiskey while Nathan lit a cigarette.
“Can I sell the picture?”
“Which one?”
“The one just now with you and Jack Daniel’s? Totally iconic for tonight.”
Tristan let out a deep grunt. He then recalled what José had told him. “You were with Leaf yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
A brief silence ensued until Tristan finally spoke. “Fuck, I don’t know whether to hate you or thank you.”
“It’s alright. It was too close. If José hadn’t shown up in time, I, the idiot, wouldn’t have even noticed.”
The voices in the hallway grew louder, and it sounded like a heated argument had erupted between José and Andrej.
“An overdose?” Andrej shouted, upset. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Why do you think?” José retorted. “You wanted to kick him out!”
“And from the looks of it, we have every reason to! God! When did we stop talking to each other? These things need to be communicated—before we go on stage together. I have the right to know what’s going on.”
Tristan slumped a little further into himself. Unfortunately, Andrej was right about this.
“He’s fine!” José said. “He played an absolutely flawless concert!”
“Are you crazy? He freaked out and punched a guy in the face. Our guitarist is in jail! Do you really think he’ll find his way back on his own?”
“That was Diego Garcia!”
“God! I’m so fed up with this shit! He needs to finally realize that Milo was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!”
“Should I close the door?” Nathan asked.
Tristan shook his head and sighed as he reached for his glass.
“How do you know that?” José yelled. “You weren’t even there!”
“Oh, come on! You know what Milo was like. He probably asked for it and lost it.”
“He’s dead!”
“I didn’t pull the trigger!” Andrej countered self-righteously.
“That’s enough,” Nathan said, getting up to close the door.
At that moment, José entered the room. But before he noticed Nathan and Tristan, he turned back to Andrej and threw his hands up in the air. “No! You didn’t do anything! But you’re about to ruin everything!”
Andrej abruptly stopped in the doorway and stared at Tristan. José turned around and gasped for breath. Tristan felt as if his body had gone rigid. The glass in his hand trembled slightly, so he set it back on the table.
For a moment, time stood still. It was a welcome pause, allowing everyone present to catch their breath.
José muttered a “Mierda” as he rubbed his temples with both hands, while Nathan sat back down on the couch. Tristan was surprised that Andrej, of all people, spoke up first.
“I’m not destroying anything,” he replied calmly.
“You two are out of control, and Leaf won’t listen to reason.
I get why he snapped at Diego, but he totally lost it and went off the deep end.
” Andrej paused for a moment, as if carefully contemplating his next words.
“I don’t want to destroy anything. I’ve seen you.
You were good. No, you are good. You just got lost somewhere along the way.
On stage, you just showed where you belong.
Hard to believe even your setlist worked.
But with things the way they are now, there’s no future for Nightstalker. ”
Tristan had heard Andrej’s words. All of them. But he couldn’t shake off Milo’s mention. “In the wrong place at the wrong time?” he repeated incredulously.
A second passed, and then Andrej tilted his head slightly to the side, eyebrows furrowing. Before he could say anything, Tristan walked around the table.
“And … He asked for it?” Tristan felt overwhelmed with emotion.
“I’m sorry …”
“How dare you?” Like an avalanche, everything crashed down on Tristan, leaving only the image of Milo in his arms. “That was …” A fog lifted from Tristan’s eyes, and he saw what he hadn’t seen before.
“Milo was working to pay off his debts, and Diego set him up! That was a damn execution!” Tristan’s voice cracked and failed.
His shoulders shook. The stress, the anger, the grief, the pressure, the alcohol—it all overflowed within him, and he staggered.
Overcome with weakness, he sat down on a chair and rubbed his face in disbelief.
“Did you want to kill yourself because of that?” Andrej asked after a minute of silence.
“I didn’t kill myself,” Tristan muttered. His gaze drifted to his glass, which was too far away.
“You act like life’s some kind of punishment, like you’re just going through the motions. Letting all this crap control you, drowning everything else in alcohol!”
“Stop it!”
But not even José’s admonishing words could distract from the fact that Andrej was right again.
Tristan buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t even midnight yet, but the night had reached its peak; it couldn’t get any darker.
If Leaf went to jail, all their efforts, Carol’s and his, would be in vain. The only advantage they could gain was that with the postponed concerts, they’d have more time to find a replacement if Iggy decides not to step in.
“Okay … yeah …” Carol entered the dressing room, pressing her phone to her ear and speaking in a hurried tone to the person on the other end of the line.
“Yes, right there … They took this Diego to the same police station. No idea … I … Just a moment.” With a nervous gesture, Carol got Tristan’s attention.
“What’s the status?” she asked him. “Did he agree?”
“Yes, he did,” Tristan replied with a resigned sigh. Getting up, he reached for the glass on the other side of the table.
“Are you still on?” Carol continued. “Yes, he agreed. Put that in front. It gives him an advantage. And then the thing with Milo. They’re supposed to check out this Diego. After all, Milo was shot in front of the house where his sister lives. No idea why that wasn’t investigated.”
Carol turned away from them again and made a call near the door. To Tristan, she seemed overly confident, but he had no idea how good this lawyer, Dexter Evans, really was.
“What’s going on here?” Andrej wanted to know.
Tristan turned his head. It was difficult for him to speak; he felt tired and exhausted. What Carol and he had tried to set in motion was about to fizzle out. However, José and Andrej deserved an explanation, so he took a deep breath and straightened up.
“I was at Carol’s last night and filled her in. We hashed out a plan for damage control. Carol spent the whole day on the phone, rescheduling concerts, and lining up therapy for Leaf.” Tristan pinched his lips together and shrugged. “Who would have thought the night would end like this?”
Andrej glanced over his shoulder at Carol. “Then … What you just said to Carol … Did Leaf …?”
“Yes,” Tristan replied shortly and took a drink.
“Parker agreed to go to rehab?” Andrej repeated, blinking his eyes in disbelief. “And how many gigs were you able to reschedule?”
“He’d be in the clinic for three months. The entire US tour would be postponed.”
José and Andrej were speechless. Only Nathan grinned. “Nice,” he said and snapped a photo. Suddenly, Carol spun back to them.
“Alright. Dexter’s doing his thing. However, he says he can’t promise anything. But we assume there’s nothing standing in the way of the gigs in Seattle and Portland.”
“Seattle and Portland?” José asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, we couldn’t postpone those anymore,” Tristan explained.
“Maybe we can get Leaf out on bail,” Carol said confidently. “After all, Dexter is convinced that this Diego guy is in trouble. He’d have to report Leaf, but if he has as much dirt on him as we think, he might not do that. It could end well.”
“So this is good news?” Andrej asked.
“Yes!” Carol exclaimed.
Tristan felt drained of all strength and sank back onto the couch. His shoulders slumped as the tension dissolved. His energy reserves were depleted. The alcohol was taking its toll, and he felt tipsy enough to maybe sleep for a few hours. He just wanted peace.
A lot of peace.
And Leaf.