Chapter 35
35
GAVIN
“ T he city lights from the Hollywood sign have nothing on this,” Sophie murmured as they looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at a mesmerizing evening view of Manhattan across the Hudson River.
They were at the Boom Boom Room at the top of the Standard Hotel High Line in New York’s Meatpacking District and the Empire State Building was clear among the glittering cluster of buildings in Midtown. He was truly amazed by the incredible experiences he’d been offered in the last few years. Rogue had taken off much more quickly than even he anticipated and he had to remind himself to enjoy the ride.
“Ah, but the view from the Hollywood sign is the one burned into my heart and soul, darlin’,” he said. “I’ll never forget being there with you and hearing you say ‘yes.’”
She smiled, charmed.
Surveying the interior of the nightclub, he was impressed by the turnout for the party put on by Rogue’s label. It was so packed that the guests had to slither past each other like snakes. Most were drawn toward the enormous, circular, Art Deco showpiece bar. He saw Conor at the far side of it, his arm around the waist of a stunning brunette who was gazing up at him adoringly.
They had last seen Shay and Martin on the open-air part of the club one floor up. Shay’s excuse for lingering there was so he could smoke, but he knew his friend was more interested in eyeing the bikini-clad girls taking a dip in the communal hot tub.
“Let’s get another drink, darlin’,” he said and pulled her by the hand into the throng of people.
Gavin had been having a good time at the party, regaling a group of new “friends” with the story of how Rogue had come in dead last in a battle-of-the-bands-style contest the same week they were signed. But then someone mentioned a recent Yoko Ono sighting and that sent him off thinking about John Lennon. Whenever he thought of Lennon, the line “I wanted you but you didn’t want me” from his song “Mother” came to mind. After that, there was no stopping the flood of thoughts that came with it, and something shifted inside him. It was a darkening of mood he couldn’t shake off.
He’d had the same sort of spells back in school, where everything seemed fine one second and in the next he was on edge and prone to push everyone away. Conor had called it “The Clash.”
It was enough tonight to make him want to cut the evening short. When Conor heard they were leaving, he dropped the girl he’d been chatting up and volunteered to go with them.
Sophie sat wedged between him and Conor in the back of a taxicab as they headed back to the hotel.
But Gavin had a different idea. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “Aye, mate, change of plan. Take us to the Dakota. You know where that is?”
The driver, a middle-aged Asian man, nodded shortly. “Yeah, yeah,” he grunted. “West 72nd Street and Central Park West.”
“Why are we going there, Gavin?” Sophie asked, and exchanged a quick glance with Conor.
He was quiet for a long moment, gazing forward. The streetlights illuminated the windshield on and off rhythmically as the taxi moved along.
“Do you know that I was destined for this?” he finally asked.
“Gav,” Conor said, “don’t do this to yourself.”
Gavin knew his friend was right. Knew he should shut his mouth, shut down these thoughts. But he couldn’t. He needed to purge them. To vent. To rage.
“The moment my Ma walked out the door I had no other choice. I mean, it’s almost fucking funny.”
“How does this help?” Conor asked with frustration.
“Let him talk,” Sophie said quietly.
“Look at all the musicians who were fucked up by their mother. The list is laughably endless. And me … I don’t even know if my mother is alive. What do you think is worse? Knowing or not knowing?”
“You know I can’t begin to imagine,” Conor said.
“It’s great fucking company to be in. At least there’s that,” Gavin said.
“Do you think I don’t know these stories backwards and front already?” Conor asked. “I’m just as fascinated by what it all means but I don’t see any reason to go over and over it.”
“Ah, perfect. Here we are,” Gavin said with forced brightness as the cab slowed to a stop.
He quickly got out and beckoned Sophie and Conor to join him. They stood across the street from the ten-story brick and sandstone apartment building known as the Dakota. A dry moat encircling the building was surrounded by a low cast-iron fence. Behind them, leafy Central Park was a peaceful contrast to the four lanes of traffic still humming by at almost two in the morning.
“I always wanted to see the spot. Morbid, I guess,” Gavin mused.
“And why are we here?” Sophie asked.
“This is where John Lennon was murdered,” Conor replied flatly.
“Oh,” Sophie said, brow furrowed.
Gavin gazed at the features of the building. Its protruding dormers, dark brown corner masonry, oriel windows, and intricate niches lent it a gothic feeling. In truth, it was a prestigious home to multi-millionaires. The doorman at the main arched entrance eyed them with suspicion, and in return Gavin gave him a mock salute.
“And yes, it is morbid. Let’s go, Gav. You need to get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning,” Conor said.
Gavin laughed. “Con, if this feeling ever left me, even for a minute, I’d be only delighted. But it doesn’t and that’s why I’m a great fucking musician. So, I guess I should thank my ma for that, shouldn’t I?”
“Stop giving into this,” Conor said. “You work yourself up into misery and?—”
“I’d thank her if only I fucking knew where she was,” Gavin continued.
Before Conor could try some other argument, Sophie went to Gavin and held his face in her hands. She looked intently into his eyes and whispered, “It’s okay.”
He reached up to take her hands from him. “Don’t?—”
“It’s all going to be okay,” she insisted.
Gavin froze as this declaration washed over him. Conor’s entreaties for him to let go this rant had fallen on deaf ears. But Sophie’s loving, dare he say it, maternal approach made all the difference. She had witnessed him coming apart and, rather than fleeing, she had given him the kind of assurance he so desperately needed. It made him feel both seen and accepted. In response, he crumbled gratefully into her embrace.
They stayed there on the street for a while longer, Gavin and Sophie holding each other tightly while Conor paced.
The sheer curtains that made the hotel suite so elegant also failed to block the morning sun and woke Gavin well before he was willing. He tossed and turned, too tired to get up to draw the heavier curtains and darken the room. Finally, he pressed his body against Sophie’s backside and squeezed her waist.
“Sophie, wake up. I have something to tell you,” he whispered.
“Hmm?” she moaned.
She turned around and her hair fell over her face as she leaned into him.
“I’m going to miss this,” he said. “Waking up with you. You’re so beautiful.”
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” she asked, and looked at him sleepily.
He smiled and brushed the hair from her face. “No. I wanted to tell you that last night, well, I didn’t plan on letting you know how fucked up I was until after we were married. Now I’m afraid you’ll run back to California and I’ll never see you again.”
“No such luck, baby. I’m hooked on you and that’s for good.”
“You’re more than I deserve, darlin’.”
“We deserve each other, Gavin.”
“I don’t ever want to let you go.”
“So don’t,” she whispered, and kissed him.
He would have to let her go later that day so she could go back home and continue to get ready to move to Ireland to be with him. But he gratefully accepted her assurance that they deserved each other. He would count the days until they could be together again.