Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Duncan
Lou parks the Escalade back at the bar, next to my car, which is the only one still left in the parking lot at the tender hour of one in the morning.
My stomach twists, hoping Bobby wasn’t too worried, and that he’s sleeping and hasn’t waited up for me.
I hadn’t intended on staying out quite this long, but the night took an unexpected turn when Lou got a call that Felix was drunk and flashing his junk to a room full of patrons, trying to piss on them.
I knew I should have just called it a night, but Lou looked like he was about to hit the roof.
I don’t know why I offered to help. Clearly the hurricane I’d had at the bar with Lou had gone to my damn head. We barely got to talking about the audition before Felix found a way to steal the show.
Lou turns the car off but neither of us move.
“You’ve got the job, McKay. If you want it, that is.” He says the words carefully.
I look back at him, twisting my lips. “Is this because of my professional resume or because I helped you corral the Wicked Pisser?”
Lou laughs, shaking his head. “Honestly? Both. Sullivan Reign isn’t half the drummer you are, no matter how he tries to imitate you. The real thing is always better,” he says, flashing me with a smile.
I let out my own chuckle, taking the compliment like a champ.
“But I swear, I’ve been working with Felix for five years, and no one has ever been able to shut him up like that. He needs someone who can tell him where the fuck he can take his bullshit.”
I sigh. “Isn’t that your job?” I ask.
Lou shrugs. “Clearly, I’m doing a bang up job,” he laments, and I sigh.
“I’m too old to be a babysitter, Lou.”
Lou nods. “Maybe. But you’re not too old to play your fucking heart out for thousands of people, are you? You ain’t too old to pass up one hundred thou, are you?”
My eyes widen at his offer. I hadn’t expected figures like that.
Holy fuck.
I could pay for a top notch tuition with that kind of money.
Lou must sense my turmoil because he softly says, “It’s just for the duration of the tour. Seven cities, then you’re off the hook. We’ll figure out a permanent replacement once the tour is over.”
Nostalgia creeps into my psyche as I remember that feeling. The vast stadiums filled with folks singing, waving their lighters across the stands.
The heat of the spotlight and the rush of the performance.
But could I really pull off a tour at my age?
One hundred thousand dollars.
Seven cities, one tour.
One shot and Bobby could go to the college of his dreams.
I shake Lou’s hand, sealing my fate.
“When do rehearsals start?”
When I finally get home, the house is dark, and Bobby is passed out in his room.
I lean in the doorway, watching him sleeping peacefully, and I can’t help but think I lucked out in the kid department.
With my past, and his mother’s, it was a miracle I wasn’t pounding on doors looking for him.
To be honest, I’m not sure Bobby has even been to a high school party, let alone drank or smoked, or...
I smile, my pride swelling at all the opportunities in his path, and the ones that will inevitably come from working this gig.
The Pillars of Rock tour.
Though I do feel some sense of sadness and remorse that I’ll be away from him for a while when we leave LA to hit the other cities.
I remind myself I’m doing this for him, and that good things don’t often come without some sort of sacrifice.
Leaving his room, I head to my den, or as Marci used to call it, my man cave .
When we’d moved from the city to the suburbs, we’d downsized a bit, and as a result of such things, I’ve taken over the smallest bedroom and turned it into my own private media room.
Even now, as I scan the plaques and posters of Hollow Pointe decorating the walls, alongside photos and instruments and copies of magazines, I can’t help but remember being Felix’s age.
I met Marci, in 1991.
Backstage at a show in LA.
I settle into my lounge chair, leaning back as I spread my legs out, swiveling in the office chair.
Despite picking up a wasted Felix, the night hadn’t been without its charms. I don’t really talk to my former bandmates, since most of them moved away and had their own lives and issues to deal with, so it really was nice to just catch up and reminisce with Lou.
Isaax is on wife number four, and Randall, our former bassist, is tied up with his acting career. Even our second guitarist is still in Hollywood, working as a sound producer and composer.
Out of the band, I am the only one who actually settled down and made a family.
With one of our groupies, no less.
My mind wanders as I remember the height of it all.
The haze of alcohol and drugs always felt good at the time, and I won’t deny I still think about some of those crazy nights.
The sex was phenomenal. I did things drunk I’d never do sober, something Marci always reminded me of when we celebrated our anniversary.
“Careful, baby, or we might end up with a repeat of Tucson of ‘92.”
I laughed, remembering her irking me over a glass of wine.
That night, we’d all been wasted as fuck, including Lou, who was Issax’s main supplier at the time.
I’d never been into the pills, like Issax, but Lou insisted whatever it was we took would make sex like a fucking kaleidoscope.
He was right, by the way. I’d never felt like such a badass, despite being wasted off my ass.
So wasted I’d fucked the lead singer of my band, while he fucked my girlfriend.
I run a hand over my face, my cock twitching as the memories filled me.
Marci’s moans as Issax pounded her into the sheets, Randall and a couple groupies slurping each other just inches away from us.
The feel of his sweaty, clammy skin underneath my palms, the way he took me, arching himself back on my cock like he liked it.
I liked it, even though I never told him that. But I supposed, that was the drugs and the vodka talking.
I grab my cock, trying to stifle the memory along with my sudden hardness, but it’s no use.
I sigh in exasperation, knowing full well I did this to myself, and there’s only one way to quiet the snake.
I ease my hand into my pants as I close my eyes, and let the memory fill me, let myself reminisce.
I’ve had a lot of sex in my fifty-five years of life, but I swear that night... that was the pinnacle. For both of us.
Afterward, when I woke up the next day, I felt hungover as shit, but I wasn’t embarrassed.
Issax wanted to forget about it, and I didn’t have the heart to argue with him. I didn’t think it mattered, since it was a one time thing, and we were all off our rockers.
I told him it didn’t mean anything. We were all fucked up, that night.
But I never forgot about it, and neither did my wife.
I grunt out my release, keeping my voice down if only because I don’t want to wake Bobby, but also because of the guilt.
That I still thought about Tucson of ‘92 and my wife as my ultimate fantasy, even though it happened over thirty years ago.
That once I could’ve blinked and picked out someone to service my dick, but now... now, I’m reduced to jacking off in my man cave, quietly, in the middle of the night.
Maybe my family is right. Maybe I do need to get out there again, start dating.
Maybe Lou is right, maybe I need to get back in the fray and find the rockstar I once was.
If I can find him—the young, confident and happy man I see on my wall—again, maybe I could venture out into the world again.
Start playing more, maybe even start dating.
If Felix Hart and his antics don’t kill me first, that is.