Chapter 10 #3
All the guys shake my hand give well wishes. Carl slaps me on the back and asks if I can still get him that signed album. When Austin slips his hand in mine, I feel electricity shoot up my arm.
He gives me a knowing smile. “Good luck, buddy.”
I snicker. “Thanks, man.”
We all walk in a circle around the fire while Timber plays some kind of flute and Canyon beats on a small drum. I can’t help but look at Austin walking in front of me. He glances over his shoulder and smiles. I never, ever thought I’d get here and end up not wanting to leave.
On the morning of my departure, we kissed for too long, got carried away, and almost sucked each other off again until I had to go.
I ran to the terminal after Canyon dropped me off at Dulles International.
I was out of breath when I got to my seat, watching the plane lift off and carry me across the country to LAX.
Far away from here, far from him. I know it’s not forever, but I’m not returning to LA as the same person. And part of the reason is him.
When I walk through the door of Pete’s mansion, carrying my bag, I stop to look around.
I don’t know why I expected it to look different.
Same mosaic tile Tamar had put in over the arched doorways.
Same shag carpeting in the living room she took out then put back in.
It’s the same. I wasn’t gone for six years.
But it feels different now.
I hear the TV, set down my bag, and walk into the kitchen. Sunny is at the table, eating cereal.
“You’re back!” she says excitedly, almost getting up. Then she quickly acts all aloof. She keeps eating her cereal and staring at the TV in the sunroom. “I thought you were gonna get back tomorrow.”
“Well today is tomorrow.” I ruffle her hair, and she smacks my hand away. “Where’s your mom?”
“I dunno.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“I dunno.”
“Are you here by yourself?”
“Lois came by. She brought in the mail and groceries.” She nods to the stack of mail on the counter.
I watch her eat her cereal. “You really want Froot Loops right now?”
“It’s part of a balanced breakfast,” she says, watching the TV.
“Except it’s way past breakfast. You want to go to Burger Chef?”
She turns to me. “Really? Can I get a cheeseburger with no cheese?”
“Sure, Sunny Side Up. Whatever you want.”
I buy her a Star Wars Fun Meal, and she puzzles over the C-3PO game at the table, munching on her fries.
“You doing okay?” I ask her. It’s been weeks since Pete interrupted our call. I’ve worried about her, hoping things were still somewhat okay here. Hoping Tamar didn’t choose my six weeks away from home to start using again.
She shrugs. “Tamar was being a real B when you were gone. She can kiss my grits.” She looks up at me. “And that’s not a quarter because I didn’t actually say it.”
I laugh at her. “Fine.” I watch her turn the game upside down. “Hey, how would you feel if I moved out and got my own place?”
Her eyes dart to me again. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m an adult and adults usually move into their own home.”
She frowns. “You just got back, and now you’re talking about leaving again.”
“Sunny, I’m not moving out tomorrow. I have to find a place first.”
Her frown doesn’t let up.
“You can help me look if you want to.”
“Maybe,” she says, eating more fries.
“You could come stay with me. You know, when Tamar gets to be too big of a B.”
She smiles, then it fades as she looks down at her burger. “I don’t want you to go. Tamar makes me drink vegetable juice, and Dad walks around saying the f-word all day.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that really that bad? You know it could be worse.” It could always get worse, but I don’t want to upset her more.
She shrugs. “I guess.”
When I take Sunny home, Tamar’s in the hallway on the phone. As soon as she sees us, she hangs it up.
“Where were you?” she demands, hands on her hips.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Look.” Sunny holds up the C-3PO game at Tamar. “I think I figured it out.”
“That’s great,” she mumbles as Sunny goes into the sunroom to sit. She glares at me. “You could have left a note.”
“So could you.”
“She’s my daughter, Harvey.”
“Exactly.” I move to the kitchen, looking for something to drink and wondering if there’s any mineral water. “And thanks for the warm welcome home.”
As much as I hate Pete and his fickleness, I get why he ditched Peach for Tamar.
She’s pretty in that perky, airline stewardess way.
It’s really disarming. Sunny will undoubtedly grow up looking just like her, which means the boys will be chasing, and I’ll have to get a gun.
Tamar is only seven and a half years older than me, though the drugs make her look older.
She bounces back faster than Pete and tries to put her life together seriously.
She hasn’t modeled or done commercials since having Sunny.
It’s a shame, really. There’s a lot she could do.
Tamar crosses her arms. “You want me to throw you a party for going to rehab or something?”
“You can’t just go and leave Sunny like that,” I say, settling for some lemonade.
“Your dad was here.” She grabs a pack of Newports off the table and lights one.
“Nobody was here when I came in.”
“Look, I can’t just control him like a robot!” she snaps. Then she shakes her head and sits at the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
She takes a drag and glares at me. “You always like being the hero, don’t you?” She ashes her cigarette. “You come in here like you’re just so much better than everybody. Well, heroes don’t smash up police cars and go to rehab. So you can spare me your little judgments.”
I turn to the sunroom. “Hey, Sunny. You still have my TV in your room, right?”
“Yeah,” she says, playing her little game.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and see if Scooby-Doo is on.”
“It’s not.”
“Well, go check.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She glares at me and her mother, gets up, and goes upstairs.
I wait until Sunny is out of sight before addressing Tamar. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She takes a drag. “So just drop it.”
“You can’t leave her alone. Even if you are sick. She’s a little kid.”
“I said drop it!”
“You could have called Lois and asked her to stay.”
“Damn it, Harvey,” she snaps again. “I’m pregnant!
Okay? That’s what it is. That’s why I don’t feel well.
Okay? So get that look off your face. I wasn’t here because I had a doctor’s appointment.
I didn’t think I should bring her. And how would I know when your dad comes and goes?
He does what he wants. You know that.” Her chin trembles. “You know what he’s like.”
I grab a box of tissues, hand them over, and sit on the counter stool next to her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I pause. “Does he know?”
“No. And don’t you tell him. Because I don’t know…
I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.
” She exhales. “They were going to go on that tour. But now they’re having their creative differences.
Judd and George.” She glances at me. “I don’t understand why bands do this. This is how The Beatles broke up.”
Every so often, Hot Night will sort of split in two.
It always ends up with Judd and George on one side and Pete and Dan on the other.
Hot Night is nothing without Judd. He’s written most of their songs and sings all of them.
It would be like The Rolling Stones without Mick Jagger.
George can sing backup, but Pete and Dan aren’t singers.
It’s always some kind of stand-off until somebody gives in.
Last time they did this a couple years ago, Carter wanted to play one of their songs at one of his rallies.
Judd and George okayed it. Pete and Dan said no.
“They’re only good when they’re together,” she says. “I’ve been telling him that. If they’re all split up, it won’t work, you know?” She exhales, stubbing out her cigarette.
“Yeah. I get what you mean.”
After making sure Sunny is occupied and Tamar is okay, the jet lag really kicks in, so I lie down for a nap.
When I wake up, the sun is already down.
I take a long hot shower and go downstairs to find some food.
Lois dropped off produce with a few other things.
I scan everything, wondering if I can make something like they made at the retreat.
Laughter drifts from somewhere nearby. I step into the hall and hear it coming up the stairs that lead down to Pete’s lair.
It’s where he “entertains” and keeps all his collectibles.
He bought Jimi Hendrix’s 1968 White Fender Stratocaster for a hundred grand.
He paid close to a million for Elvis’s 1942 Martin D-18 Acoustic.
He even bought The Who’s “Pinball Wizard” pinball machine.
Some limited-edition albums and magazines are displayed on shelves.
Everything is worth enough money to feed a third world country.
I walk down and find Pete shooting pool with Dan and a couple of guys I don’t recognize. I stand on the staircase for a bit before anyone notices I’m here.
Pete is first. “Well, well, well,” he says, taking a drink of beer. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
The other guys glance at me between shots.
Pete looks like he’s been drinking nonstop all day. In the corner, I notice a bag of weed and a bong. He’s shirtless, except for a long beaded vest. He looks so much older than I want him to be.
Dan’s the only one who smiles at me. “Hey, Harv. How’s tricks?”
I shrug. “Been better, I guess.”
“You should be better than better,” Pete says, lining up a shot. “After all the money I spent? You know what this little shit did?” He’s talking to the other guys. “Got piss-ass drunk and smashed into a cruiser. Cops arrested his ass. I had to bail him out and pay for his rehab.”
“Oh, shit.” One of the guys laughs and looks me over. “That’s far out, man.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” I growl. “And I said I’d pay you back.”
“You were something,” Pete snaps. “Putting up a fight and all.”
I scowl at him. “Just thought you’d want to know that I’m home, if you were concerned at all. But I guess we both know you weren’t.”
As I walk back up the steps, he calls for me to get him another beer. I ignore him.
In the kitchen, I try to rustle up something to eat. I’d usually grab one of those TV dinners Lois buys, but they look gross to me now. As I set a few things on the counter, Sunny appears, fresh from a bath, in her pajamas, and climbs on one of the stools.
“You hungry at all, Sunny Side Up?”
“A little bit,” she says.
“Where’s your mom?”
“In her room. She said she was tired.”
I pick up a box of macaroni. “Want some of this? I think I can make it really good.”
“Fine with me,” she says.
She chatters about random things—mostly about what she watched on TV—while I cook.
A dish at the retreat had tomatoes and smashed up avocado in it, I think.
It was really good. I was surprised they even had avocados.
Timber said they had to get a cold-weather variety, different from the ones that grow here.
I didn’t even know there was such a thing.
I try to recreate the recipe as best I can, put some in a bowl for Sunny, and some for me. I sit next to her at the counter.
“Taste good?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s really good.”
I hold my hand up and she gives me a high five. “Right on, pal.”
We eat for a bit, and then I notice her peeking at me.
“What?” I ask her.
She finishes her bowl before answering. “You just seem kinda different.”
“Well, I am,” I say. “But it’s good.”
“So you fixed your mistake at the rehab?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“And you don’t have to go back?”
“Nope. I won’t have to go back.”
After we eat, we watch Laverne & Shirley.
Then I give her a piggyback ride up to her room, read her a couple of chapters from her favorite book, and cut out the lights.
I check on Tamar and find her asleep. Pete and his pals are gone.
I go downstairs, grab the bag of weed and some rolling papers in a drawer, then head outside to the pool.
I roll a joint and smoke it in the lounge chair, staring up at the dark, cloudless sky.
All the stars make me think of Austin. I’ll have to check one of my old magazines, but I’m pretty sure his birthday is two days after he gets back.
He won’t tell me about it, expecting me to have forgotten.
I know it’s toward the end of July, but I can’t remember the exact date.
I wonder what he’s doing right now. Maybe it’s the weed making me a little paranoid, but I start thinking about him and Carl.
I’ve never been the kind of guy who gets jealous or possessive.
Austin and I are sort of friends with benefits, or at least that’s how I’ve thought of it.
I can’t exactly expect him to refuse getting sucked off by another guy if he wants to, and I’m sure he gets propositioned all the time.
Once his show takes off, it’ll happen a lot more.
Am I kidding myself? My feelings are getting too close to my dick. That’s not where they’re supposed to go.
I stub out the joint and go inside. I grab the phone and dial the retreat. After a few rings, I remember the time difference. It’s probably close to two in the morning over there. I hang up and sit in the hallway with the phone on my lap for a long time, my head swimming from the weed.
I can’t get like this over him. I just can’t. If I do, he’ll just crush my heart like a can and kick it to the curb. But even that, even that right there, doesn’t seem so bad if I can keep this angel from flying away from me.
At least for little while.