Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“You want another cappuccino?”
“No, I want you to sit down.” It was a Wednesday evening in June and there were only about a dozen people in Monks, but Gabriel was running around like the place was jam-packed and everyone was in a rush to get served.
“I’ll make you another one,” Gabriel said just as if I hadn’t spoken. “Sean?”
Sean tossed the magazine onto the table and stood. “Sit the hell down and talk to your girlfriend.” He put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and shoved him into the chair across from me. “I need to prepare for all the A&R execs that’ll be swarming the joint.”
“Can you get me some wine?” Gabriel called after him.
Sean gave him the middle finger. “You’re still not Bono.”
Gabriel shook his head and whipped out a book from his back pocket like he was actually going to sit and read Jesus’ Son instead of discussing this with me.
I snatched the book out of his hand as Sean set two glasses of red wine on the table and retreated.
“Why are you being so weird about this?” I asked, planting my forearms on the table and searching his face for an answer. I’d been so excited when I saw the article in Avant-Garde that I ran straight to Monks after work to share it with him, but he hadn’t been the least bit interested.
“I am weird.” He tipped back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs. I was tempted to lunge across the table and knock him on his ass. “I thought you already knew that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Weirder than usual then.”
“Hey, dude, how’s it going? Thought you were working today,” Devin said, taking a seat at our table. “Hey, Cleo. Cool T-shirt.”
“Thanks.” It was a line drawing I did of Philippe Petit tightrope-walking between the roofs of the Twin Towers. “I’ll make one for you.”
Gabriel pointed at me. “You’re not making shirts for anyone but me.” His gaze swung to Devin. “I was trying to work until Cleo?—"
I pointed at Gabriel. “You’re not the boss of me. If I want to make a T-shirt for Devin, I will.” I set the magazine in front of Devin and opened to the page with the write-up, hoping to recruit another ally. “I’m trying to get Gabriel to read this.”
“I don’t need to read it because you chased me around Monks reading it to me,” Gabriel said, rubbing his temples like this whole thing was giving him a massive headache. “Why are you being so persistent about this?”
He’d spent the day playing barista and conveniently disappeared into the kitchen to wash dishes when I was reading to him.
“Why are you acting so blasé about this?”
“Dude, you got a write-up in Avant-Garde ?” Devin said, sounding suitably impressed. “That’s awesome.”
“Exactly. Thank you,” I told Devin who started reading the write-up, moving his lips while his eyes scanned the page.
Occasionally he’d read aloud, throwing out some key phrases, much to Gabriel’s dismay and my obvious delight.
“‘…captivating live performance…extraordinary vocal range…the ability to deliver deeply personal interpretations of both original songs and covers. Gabriel Francis is an enigmatic musician with undeniable charisma.’” Devin tossed the magazine onto the table.
“Dude, this is all good stuff. What’s your problem? ”
“What do I care what some journalist says about me?” Gabriel said. “That’s his opinion. I’m not going to change my music to pander to whatever this guy deems as ‘commercial’—”
“Nowhere in this article did he mention that you should change,” I pointed out.
“Not explicitly, but I can read between the lines,” he said, chugging his wine while Devin ambled off to get a drink, no doubt needing a breather from our domestic squabble.
“When journalists start throwing around words like ‘too experimental’ and ‘too much raw emotion’ that’s what they’re talking about. He even said he wasn’t sure my music had commercial appeal.” Gabriel snorted. “As if that’s what I’m going for.”
“He posed it as a question, not a statement,” I argued. “This is a really positive review and Jonathan Mayes doesn’t toss around accolades lightly.”
“What do I care?” Gabriel batted his hand in the air like he was swatting a pesky mosquito. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you.” I threw up my hands. “It’s about you.”
Devin returned to our table with a beer and backed me up. “I thought you wanted to be a musician.”
He scowled at Devin. “I do. And I am. It’s all about the music.
It always has been and always will be. I don’t want to get caught up in all that.
” He stabbed his finger at the magazine like it had done him dirty.
“I’m trying to protect my headspace. I’m trying to honor the sacred vow I made to music.
I’m not going to change my vision or my artistic direction to appeal to the masses.
And why the fuck did he have to mention what I look like?
” Gabriel exhaled loudly. “What does that have to do with my music?”
I gave him an incredulous look. “You’re not a faceless guitar player standing up there, Gabriel.”
“Hey, dude, I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you. This is some good press. ‘Striking good looks, those cheekbones, those pouty lips,’” Devin quoted. “All the chicks will be showing up to check you out—” He cut himself off and grimaced when he caught me glaring at him. “Sorry, Cleo.”
“Like he needs more chicks showing up,” I muttered. “He’s already got more than enough fans. One too many, if you ask me.” Gabriel chuckled and I gave him the evil eye. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Poor Nose Ring Girl,” he said. “She’ll probably be too scared to come back to Monks.”
One could only hope.
“I tried to be nice but every week she practically throws herself at him,” I told Devin. “Last week she tried to rip his shirt off.”
Gabriel snorted. “She tripped over a cable and grabbed my shirt to stop herself from falling.”
If he honestly believed that, he was more na?ve than I thought.
Two buttons had popped off, that's how aggressively she’d grabbed him. To add insult to injury, it was the shirt I’d made for him which had incensed me even more.
“That’s what she gets for shaking her stuff right in front of you,” I said. “Karma is a bitch. If we’re still together when you get rich and famous, you’d better not cheat on me with any of your groupies. I can’t be held responsible for what I’d do to you if you fucked around on me.”
I held up an imaginary knife and made stabbing motions.
Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. “Wow. You must really like me. You’re such a jealous lover.”
That was a lot nicer than calling me a total psycho. Not that I’d physically assaulted Nose Ring Girl. I would never.
I’d just told her in no uncertain terms to keep her eyes and her hands to herself and to back off from my man.
Thankfully, Gabriel had backed me up and made it clear that he was with me and only me. As soon as we got home that night, we were all over each other, and fucked like rock stars. Take that, Nose Ring Girl.
“That’s the dream, man,” Devin said wistfully. “Find yourself a girl who’s willing to commit homicide for you.”
“That reminds me,” Gabriel said. “Can we borrow your car this weekend?”
I’m not sure why the word homicide reminded Gabriel that he wanted to borrow Devin’s car, but this weekend was my mother’s annual summer party.
Unfortunately, when she called to remind me, Gabriel answered the phone and assured her that we’d be there so now I was roped in.
We stayed at Monks to watch an Irish folk singer that Gabriel and I both loved.
He scooted his chair over, so he was sitting right next to me and jerked his chin at Sharon.
“This is how I imagine you would sound if you sang,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.
“Like a rock chanteuse. There’s so much power and purity and soul in her voice.
She just grabs the audience by the throat and doesn’t let go. ”
“Are you saying that I’m too tenacious?”
He wrapped his arm around me and moved his mouth close to the shell of my ear. “I’m saying that you’re a force of nature and I want you to hold on tight and never let me go.”
I was so crazy about him that I never wanted to let him go but I pulled back to look at his face. “Even when I argue with you and drive you nuts?”
“Never stop and I promise I won’t either,” he said. “We make each other better.”
It was true. We called each other out on our bullshit and pushed each other to be better, to do better, to create without boundaries.
We supported each other in all our endeavors and were each other’s biggest fans. I believed there was nothing Gabriel couldn’t do, and he felt the same about me.
When I launched my capsule collection at House of Simone and two other boutiques a couple of weeks ago, Gabriel told all his devoted groupies to get on over to House of Simone and buy a Cleo Babington original design.
He was so proud of me that he told anyone who would listen, and I, in turn, was so proud of him that I was constantly singing his praises. Which was why I’d been so excited about that positive review.
The more I thought about it though, the more I understood where he was coming from. It wasn’t from a place of arrogance or conceit but like he’d said, he was trying to protect his headspace.
Gabriel was an artist with a vision, and he didn’t want to be swayed by outside opinions.
I leaned into his side and listened to the music with the man who had so quickly but surely become my everything.