Chapter 19
(Rebel)
Sorry I was too drunk to text you back last night. What did you need? I texted Steel in response to the messages I hadn’t seen until after I’d shambled out of the shower this morning to find that Kit had left while I was in the bathroom.
He’d left a message on the notepad beside the bed, with a doodle of two tipsy stick figures staggering past hotel room doors, saying he’d be back with his electric drum set, and we’d order room service.
Hell yeah.
Only I didn’t have a clue what we were supposed to be working on.
Oh well, he’d tell me.
My phone blipped as I reached for the remote to turn the television on.
To talk. Are you free?
No. Kit’s going to be back soon. We’re working on a song.
I don’t want to do this via text, but I don’t feel like waiting any longer. I fucked up when I broke things off with you.
No, if last night showed me anything, it’s that I do stupid things to get attention.
There were ways I could have given you the attention you craved without leaving my post.
Then why didn’t you?
It would have required you to follow my instructions without questioning me.
Could have just said that.
I would have if I’d thought about it instead of getting pissed at you. If you’ll give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you.
I don’t think that would be a good idea.
At least tell me why.
Kit and I… I don’t know if it's going to be anything, but I’m going to ride it out and see what happens. He gets what it’s like to come off the stage flying so high you’re afraid you’ll never find the ground again. You and I, we’re just too different. It's best to leave things the way they stand.
What if I don’t agree? What if I want to take it slow? Do it right this time. Do stuff together instead of having sex and watching hockey?
You read what I said about Kit, right?
I’d be okay with keeping things open. You said you were exploring options with him, so why not explore them with me, too?
If he’s okay with it, I’ll give it more consideration. Right now, I’m not sure I’m okay with it.
Fair enough.
I’ll let you know when I have an answer. Wish you’d thought of all this before you gutted me.
I regret being so harsh. You didn’t deserve that.
Maybe a little, I did. It might have been better for us both if you’d just showed up at my door and put me over your knee instead of dumping me.
Give me a second chance, and I promise to employ that method the next time you step out of line.
What makes you think there’ll be a next time? I’ve been working on some of those self-destructive tendencies you were complaining about.
Good. I never want to see anything bad happen to you.
I didn’t know what to do with that. My fingers stood poised over the keys, prepared to respond with a bit of snark and humor, but the words wouldn’t come.
He didn’t deserve a glib response. Blowing off his concern might have come naturally for me, but I wasn’t enough of an asshole to throw it back in his face.
After last night and waking up in Kit’s arms, there was still a soft, romantic vibe hanging over me that made the conversation extra difficult. Before I could second-guess what I was about to do, I typed:
There’s nothing saying you couldn’t hang out with us when you’re off and we’re not busy with the rest of the band creating new music.
I enjoyed watching you create on the balcony. Didn’t come close to what it was like to listen to you play for the others, though.
Would have thought you’d be bored.
Bored right now, sitting here staring out the window.
Have you had lunch yet?
No. Was waiting, hoping to have it with you.
Shit, okay, now that hit me right in the feels, but in a good way. Damn. Before I could conjure up a response, there was a knock on my door, and I opened it to find Kit and his electric drums standing on the other side, so I stepped aside so he could come in.
“Hey, do you mind if Steel comes over and hangs out while we work on, um, what are we supposed to be working on?"
“I figured you didn’t remember, and I don’t mind. He’s your friend. If you want him to listen while we work, it’s fine with me.”
“He, um, he’s trying to be more than a friend,” I blurted, since it seemed like my mouth didn’t have any more restraint than my fingers did.
“We were more than friends for a little while. Just, lately I’ve wondered if maybe there was something building between us, and I don’t want to fuck it up by going backwards if you’ve got an issue with keeping things open while I figure it the fuck out. ”
He laid his electric drum kit on the coffee table in front of the couch and turned around to face me.
“I’m fine with open,” he replied. “Or keeping shit casual until you figure out what you want. In the end the band comes first, no matter what happens.”
“Agreed.”
“Then tell him to come over,” Kit declared. “Early feedback is always welcome.”
"Yeah, it is,” I replied before texting Steel. “He hasn’t had lunch yet either, so we should probably get our order in before we start working. So, what don’t I remember?”
“Knightly making a comment about being blissfully buzzed and you guys deciding that it would make an amazing song title, which it does, and that you should write it since he’s retired.”
“Meh, he’s only retired because he and his bandmates had a falling out, and he refuses to make things right with them or form another one himself.”
“How long have they been broken up?”
“Like, two years, give or take. We’ll go long periods without talking, then he’ll hit me up or show up out of the blue like he did yesterday.”
“Do you guys always get drunk when you hang out?”
When I really thought about it, I couldn’t remember a single time when we’d gotten together without alcohol involved.
“Yup.”
“That should tell you something right there.”
“It’s starting to.”
“Good, because it didn’t seem like you were having a good time last night,” he said.
“I’ll admit that it would have been a lot more fun if Knightly hadn’t been there.”
“I hope you remember that the next time he raises his ugly head at an event.”
“I always thought he was kinda hot,” I admitted. “Which is probably why I’ve put up with his shit for so long.”
“There’s no denying that he’s fun to look at, until he opens his mouth and his douchiness spews out.”
“He’s never been good at sitting still and looking pretty.”
He snorted at that and shook his head at me. “Yeah, I picked that up last night.”
“Sorry he was an ass.”
"It wasn't your fault, but I appreciated you putting him in his place instead of piling on when he started tearing into me.”
“Would make me a shitty friend and bandmate if I did that shit to you.”
“True. But people do all kinds of things they shouldn’t when they’re trying to impress someone.”
“The only one I was interested in impressing last night was you,” I admitted.
“Well, it was pretty impressive that you were able to get that wasted and managed not to puke on me or grope me in my sleep.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice,” I replied. “Thanks for getting me back here last night.”
“As much as I’d like to take credit for that, it was all Sully. You passed out in the SUV, so he carried you up from the parking lot.”
“Oops.”
“Why do I not believe that oops?” He said.
A knock on the door cut off my response and I let Steel, and the bulging bag he carried, into the room.
“I hope there's room in the fridge,” Steel said as I closed and locked the door behind him. “I popped into the store in the lobby and grabbed some drinks to go with our food.”
“Thanks. I don’t think there’s much left in there,” I admitted. “Just a handful of iced teas.”
“Two,” Kit said. “I killed one this morning before I took off.”
“Yeah, refreshments were definitely needed,” I said as I took the bag and put everything away.
Fortunately, the assortment he’d brought was all non-alcoholic, because I wasn’t in the mood to drink so much as a beer today after everything I’d downed last night. It didn’t take long for us to decide what we wanted for lunch and call in our order.
“You know what we need,” I told Kit as I retrieved my guitar from its case.
Steel got comfortable in one chair, and Kit took the other, leaving the couch to me and my guitar.
“Enlighten me,” he replied.
“Some kind of beat and rhythm that mimics what it’s like to wobble unsteadily up a hallway,” I said. “Like that doodle you left me this morning.”
“Dude, all I could think about as you were trying to make it to the bathroom without crawling across the floor was that neither of us needs to be allowed near a bottle of tequila again.”
Steel snickered and eyed us skeptically. “And who the hell would be able to enforce that? Rebel already needs a warning label. The jury is still out on you.”
“If you ask me, it’s the tequila that needs the warning label,” Kit grumbled.
“It’s already got one,” Steel pointed out. “Right along with a warning to drink responsibly.”
“And round one goes to Steel,” I declared, snickering.
"Fine, but that’s the last one he’s winning today,” Kit declared.
Steel just raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you think so?”
“Wrong, I know so,” Kit shot back. “I’m on to your tricks now.”
“The only thing you left off there was ending that line with you rascally wabbit!” Steel remarked in the worst Elmer Fudd impersonation I’d ever heard.
Even the hand I slapped over my mouth couldn’t hold back the errant snickers that slipped out. The moment I opened my mouth to proclaim that round two had also gone to Steel, Kit pointed a finger my way.
“Don’t even think about it,” he grumbled.
“What? I wasn’t gonna say a thing,” I remarked, making a show of locking my lips and tossing the key over my shoulder.
“Why don’t I believe that?” he said.
“Because you have a suspicious mind.”
“Around you? Hell yeah, I do.”
“And that round went to Kit,” Steel said, chuckling at the back and forth between us.
“Wait, how did I get sucked into this game?” I replied. “I’d planned to sit safely over here and watch how it all played out.”
The last thing I expected was their simultaneous response of collateral damage. At least the afternoon would be amusing, especially since I was going to get to spend it with them.
“If we could focus on the song for a moment, I was thinking warbling hammer and pulls with an uneven drumbeat and cymbal crashes, like bodies slamming into a metal trashcan, bodies and steel hitting the ground. Little beats, like giggles and laughter, so the whole song plays like a drunken night shambling up the avenue,” I declared.
“Fine, then you’ve got to make that guitar wail like sirens as the cops close in.”
“Bet.”
With a creature feature on mute on the flatscreen, we started working out how to accomplish the things we’d challenged each other to do.
When the knock came to signal that our food had arrived, I started to get up, but Steel held his hand up and motioned for me to keep playing while he went to the door to sign for it.
I didn’t stop until I’d achieved something close to the woo, woo, whine of the patrol cars back in the city and threw in a high-low series of chords to mimic the rhythm of an ambulance siren too.
No Friday night in New Bedford was complete without that sound.
By then, Steel had placed each of our dome-covered trays on the coffee table in front of us and taken the television off mute, so we had something to listen to while we ate.
“We might have to change the name of this one to drunk and out of control,” Kit suggested as he plucked the first chicken wing off his plate and dunked it so far into the bowl of ranch dressing he’d asked for that I started to think he was trying to drown the damned thing.
I honestly hadn’t known what to think when he’d asked for a bowl instead of just an extra container, but watching him swirl that drumstick around in his bowl convinced me that he’d use it all by the time he was through.
I’d opted for a salad topped with steak, double crunch shrimp, and a bunch of croutons doused with a mound of creamy Italian dressing that coated everything on my plate.
I caught him eyeing my food the way I’d been checking out his and realized that between us, we could bankroll a salad dressing factory.
“Enjoy a little food with your dressing?” Steel quipped as he poured what looked like a cup of blue cheese dressing all over his burger.
“Uh-huh,” Kit remarked, pointing across the table at him. “Like you’re any better.”
“Guilty,” Steel muttered before taking a bite, blissfully sighing around the food in his mouth.
“And not the least bit ashamed of it, either,” I snickered as he grinned at me.
“Nope.”