Chapter 24
The Dusty Brooms have finally made it to the sunny state of California.
Their first show is at the Hollywood Palladium in the glorious city of Los Angeles, with another one tomorrow in Long Beach and one more in Inglewood a few days after that.
As Gene strums his guitar for the enormous audience in the Hollywood venue, colorful lights stream through the air, phasing through crystal chandeliers, highlighting the circular motif on the somewhat-low, wide ceiling.
Pat’s drumbeat kicks it up a notch as they move on to playing ‘Nothin’ Can Hold Me Down’.
Fast, aggressive, pure rock-’n’-roll—pounding through the verse, Gene’s rhythm guitar is loud and distorted.
Music is the perfect outlet to release his emotions, especially this song.
It’s hard to believe he initially wrote this with Ray nearly two years ago.
And here they are, performing it for thousands of people in the biggest city on the west coast—a sizable difference compared to when they first played it for a gig at a club in Grand Rapids.
Things were so much different back then.
Well, not exactly. Some things will always be the same, because, no matter how many times he does it, every time Gene stands next to Ray as they sing into the same microphone, it sends a warmth through his chest, fluttering throughout his whole body.
It doesn’t matter if he’s upset at him, melancholy about their situation, whatever—nothing matters except being close to him.
It’s calming, despite the intensity of the music and the size of the crowd.
Gene can’t help but smile, catching a glimpse of eye contact with Ray as he, too, smiles back.
He’s wearing that sparkly blue eyeshadow again—damn, does he always look ever so beautiful. They sing the chorus together:
“Don’t matter if I got no money,
if my friends aren’t hangin’ ’round.
I’ll shine my shoes on my own two feet—
Nothin’ can hold me down.”
After the wonderful show at the Palladium, the Dusty Brooms retreat to their hotel: the Continental Hyatt House.
Or, wasn’t the name changed to the Hyatt on Sunset?
Either way, Gene has heard this place being called the ‘Riot House’ more than anything.
Maybe he hadn’t heard of the Chelsea Hotel in New York before, but this hotel on Sunset Boulevard is so notorious that even Gene knows about it.
Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, Johnny Thunders, and even Michigan-native Iggy Pop have all stayed here in the recent past. It only makes sense that a rock band like the Dusty Brooms stays here, too.
Gene’s glad Dennis booked them all here for the week.
The most alluring part of the hotel is the pool on the roof—the prime hangout spot.
Small, potted palm trees line the outside fencing, and a starlit night sky glows overhead.
Gene didn’t feel like swimming this time, though, leaving his bell-bottom pants and thin, silky button-up shirt on instead of switching to his swim bottoms. Ray isn’t up here with him.
No, he opted to stay in the room with Carol for some alone time.
Of fucking course. But what did Gene expect?
Life goes on, and Carol is still Ray’s girlfriend.
Gene realizes Ray probably feels guilty for cheating on her with him a few nights ago, as evidenced by how it seems like Ray has been giving her extra attention lately.
He didn’t seem to feel that guilty when he cheated on Harriet, though, Gene scoffs, walking around the plastic beach chairs lining the pool, random hotel guests congregating in most of them.
But he figures the situation with Harriet was different, and perhaps Ray really does care for Carol more than Gene realizes.
Such a thought makes his heart hurt. I can’t fucking cry.
Not here, not in front of all these people.
He finally spots some people he knows—Santiago is sitting in a chair next to Dennis, Santi still wearing his glittery clothes from the show while Dennis is in his swim bottoms. Even though it’s dark outside, Dennis is wearing his orange-tinted sunglasses.
But when isn’t he? Such a thought lightens his mood a little, making him smile. Gene walks over and approaches them.
“Hey guys,” Gene says, standing closer to Santiago.
“?Hola!” Santi says, raising a glass. Gene notices there’s a bottle of Smirnoff vodka in-between their chairs. “Where’s Ray?”
It’s funny that would be the first thing Santi asks, making Gene chuckle. Because he expects us to always be hanging out together. “He’s in the room with Carol. I can spend time without him, y’know.”
“You guys better not be avoiding each other again, that’s all I mean.” Santi gives him a serious look.
“We’re not! Everything’s fine.” Yeah, right. “It’s not like I wanna be in the room when those two are fucking. That’s all. Sheesh.”
That gets Dennis to laugh, and Santiago follows, laughing a little too.
“With how well we’ve been doing with this tour, I think I can convince RCA to allow us more hotel rooms to space us out for the next one,” Dennis says.
“Since it seems like this sort of thing keeps happening. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
You guys love your women.” He tips his sunglasses down, giving Gene and Santi a smirk.
“Very true,” Santi chuckles. “Though, Gene, I don’t think I’ve seen you with a chick at all on this tour. You just not feeling it?”
That, and he hasn’t had chicks on his mind at all, since his head has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Ray.
Oh, if only he knew… “Yeah. It’s not like I need to sleep with groupies to have fun on the tour, y’know.
I’m not like Stefan.” He can see Stefan now, standing by a few chairs away from them all, a drink in his hand, patting the shoulder of a lovely lady Gene’s never seen before.
I hope he’s at least being responsible and there aren’t any kids we don’t know about.
“I guess so,” Santi says with a shrug. “Hey Denny, you know what’s going on with Stefan? Even though he’s in the band, he honestly doesn’t talk to us much. Basically, he just comes on stage, plays the songs, and that’s it.”
“It’s Dennis, mind you.” Dennis pouts. “But he’s alright. A ‘lone wolf’ kinda guy, from what I gather, but still relies on the stability of the pack—the band. Even though it might not seem like it, he appreciates you all.”
“That’s good, at least.” Gene nods.
“I guess the chicks he hangs with have been nice too, I’ve noticed,” Santi says. “I recognized a few of the same ones during our Detroit shows. They did laundry with Carol and such. Sweet girls.”
“For sure,” Gene says.
“Anyway, if you don’t mind me—” Dennis stands up, taking off his sunglasses and setting them and his cup down next to his chair. “I think I’m going to take a dip in the pool. You can have the rest of my drink if you want, Gene. And whatever’s left in the bottle.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Thanks.”
And so, Dennis walks over to the low diving board, stretches, bending back and forth, watching out for other people, and he dives into the water as gracefully as a dolphin.
Santiago whistles. “Wow, I didn’t realize he could do that.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Gene chuckles, sitting down in Dennis’ old seat. He picks up Dennis’ old cup, too, taking a sip. He scrunches his nose a little at the taste; he’s way more used to whiskey than vodka.
He looks at the scene around them: lamp lights reflecting off the water into the dark sky, palm trees left and right, smoke clouds occasionally filling the space, and dozens of people either floating in the water or congregating in the scattered beach chairs, parasols open next to them despite not being needed at night.
He wonders how many of these people are other musicians too—or perhaps some might be actors?
Or, maybe neither musicians or actors, but people close to them with connections to the scene.
Los Angeles is a whole ’nother world compared to the simplicity they were used to in Michigan—an unobtainable paradise that Gene could only fantasize about. And yet, here they are now.
“How’ve you been liking touring, Santi?” Gene asks, looking at his friend next to him.
“Oh, I’ve been having a blast.” Santiago smiles, taking a sip from his own drink.
“It still amazes me that I’ve run into so many Spanish speakers, like, because I’m Chicano, they’ll default to speaking Spanish for me instead of English.
But I guess we’re really close to Mexico here. So it makes sense.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty cool, though.”
“For sure.”
Gene takes another sip of vodka. “Does that mean you like it better here than Michigan?”
“Hmm, I can’t really answer that.” Santi rubs his chin with his free hand. “Sure, there’s more people like me down here, but most of my family lives in Michigan, aside from a few distant relatives I don’t really talk to in Mexico.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty close with your family.”
Santi nods. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t be down for moving, however, if it better suited my needs, y’know.
Especially with the band getting bigger, it makes me wonder how long we’re all gonna stay in Michigan.
Yeah, there’s plenty of rock-’n’-roll fans in Detroit and it is bigger there than Grand Rapids, but…
you can see for yourself the scene for opportunities is even bigger here in Cali, and in New York, too. ”
Gene can’t argue with that. “Makes sense. At least if we did move states, we’d all be moving together. We’d have each other.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t move out this way all by myself.” Santi chuckles.
Gene’s mind wanders a little, back to what they were talking about earlier with Dennis. “I know I haven’t been sleeping with chicks this tour, but… have you?” He remembers seeing Santiago chat with a few, but was unsure if it went any further than that, since they’re not sharing a room this tour.