35. Quinn
quinn
. . .
E verything I thought would happen, did. Against my better judgment, I joined the band. I had an eerie suspicion that Alicia was out there, waiting in the wings and I was right. And I stupidly went balls to the walls into a relationship without knowing the person. Like, really getting to know her. There isn’t a damn thing about her that I can tell a single person. Not her age, not the town she’s from, and for the life of me, I can’t remember her last name. One would think that before they profess their undying love to someone and ask them to move in, all the vital information would be shared. Like, I don’t know, the fact that she’s engaged to someone else.
I’ve always been the cautious one, waiting in the background, assessing every situation and making informed decisions. I’m not rash when it comes to judgment, in fact, I barely give my opinion unless it’s needed, like when Elle was acting like a raging bitch to Ben and partying too much. I stepped in. It pissed her off, but the end result is that they’re both happy and living a life together in Malibu. Great, perfect.
All I wanted was the same damn thing my sisters have. I’m tired of being the third and fifth wheel, with them always looking at me like I’m missing something. And when I finally find it, what I’ve always wanted, it’s all built on lies. I don’t even know if anything she ever said to me was true. She lied about her name and most importantly about being engaged. Who the hell does that?
People involved with Alicia Tucker, that’s who. I should’ve sensed something was wrong. I should’ve seen the signs, but I was too busy getting my rocks off to realize that the woman in front of me, the one who told me she loved me, had skeletons in her closet.
One of them being Sofia. She lived with my half-sister for two years, and according to Sofia, Nola, sorry Eleanora, knew exactly who I was. She sought me out. She purposely put herself in my life to seduce me, and for what?
That’s what doesn’t make sense, no matter how many times I try to resolve it in my head, why would she seduce me? And why would she lie about Sofia to my sisters? None of this makes sense, and yet I can’t get over it, and it’s eating me up inside.
I crumble up the sheet music and toss it on the floor. I’ve spent every waking minute here in the studio, where I know Nola and my parents can’t get to me. I’m a coward and I’m hiding. I’m feeling so much rage inside, I’m afraid that if I see her, I will blow up, and I’ve had enough anger these past few days to last me a lifetime.
The door opens and in walks Ajay. Great. Just what I need. He sees the mess on the floor, bends down, picks up one of the many balls of paper and opens it. I set my eyes back on the next sheet of paper, looking at the bars as they mock me.
Up until now, writing has been my thing. My go-to when I need to get my thoughts down or relieve some stress, but since everything went down, I haven’t been able to make sense of the words. The amount of anger, the agonizing hurt and desperate longing I feel do not make for a good song. They make for an angry letter which I’ve written each night to Eleanora. Telling her how much she’s destroyed my faith in love and humanity. Asking her over and over, what did I do to deserve this from her?
Sadly, the words never answer me back and unless I actually send the letter, I’ll never know. Of course, I could mail it, but that would mean I would need to know some important facts about her, like her last name.
“Shit, these are good.”
“They’re garbage,” I mumble in response to Ajay’s praise.
“You’re biased.” He comes over to the table with four or five different sheets and presses them out. He starts pointing to different lyrics, mixing them with others from the different pages, mashing them together to create a song. I hate it. I hate it because he’s right and it would be good.
“Damn, you should write more often.”
I scoff. “I’ve written most of the songs on our demo or haven’t you been paying attention?”
“No, I mean whatever’s going on with you now, this shit’s really good. Have you shown Elle? What about your dad? I could see Liam belting one of these out, but that might piss off Dana.”
I set my pen down and look at him. He’s excited, eager, and using a pen to mark the order of the lyrics. “Why are you doing this?”
He pauses and looks at me questioningly. “Because we’re bandmates.”
“I’ve been nothing but a dick to you. Do you know why?”
Ajay stands tall. “No. Elle just said that you’re reserved, that you keep to yourself. I figured it’s because you’re one of those intense musicians.”
“You were one of the reasons why I was so hesitant to join this group.”
“O-kay, did I sleep with your chick or something? Because that’s not how I roll.”
I shake my head, although I don’t really know the answer to that. “It’s my dad. He’s taken you under his wing, he’s helped you. I realize how incredibly selfish I sound, but we’ve had a disconnect, mostly over this band and when I was duped to coming in for the jam session, all I could see was him sitting side by side with you. You bonded over drumming and I was jealous.”
Ajay rests against the counter. His fingers dig into the side. He looks pensive, not angry. I’d be pissed, but I’m a loose cannon right now. “I don’t have a dad. I mean, I did, but he bailed when I was about three. Mom took off when I was six or seven, I don’t remember because I stopped caring. Lived with my gram for a bit until she died and then I just floated around between my friends until I graduated high school. Married my high school sweetheart, ditched her just like my dad ditched my mom.
“When I met your dad,” he pauses and shakes his head. “My world changed. I was earning decent money as a drummer, but it was your dad who really showed me how to play. The whole time, he would talk about you. Quinn this, Quinn that. I used to think, wow how lucky this Quinn guy is, and then I met you and saw how your dad looked at you. Man, you walk on water where he’s concerned.
“You know, winning that competition was the best thing that happened for me. It opened doors, led me here, but meeting your dad and seeing that not all men are shit bags when it comes to their kids, that’s what made the difference. I never had a positive role model in my life, until I met Harrison. I’m sorry if me hanging out with him caused you guys to have a rift.”
Now who’s a douche?
Me, Quinn James at your service.
I’m completely dumbfounded on what I should say, instead, I offer my hand, hoping he takes my peace offering. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “It’s my own insecurities, not yours.”
We shake and let the awkward silence fall over us. Ajay picks up the papers again and starts reading them, while I try to focus on the words in front of me.
“Married, huh?” I ask, randomly.
“Yep. I was so in love with her. I thought that was my ticket to life, more or less.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“What didn’t happen? We fought, made up, fucked like rabbits, got pregnant, lost the baby, she got depressed and I packed my shit. I headed to Nashville to look for some work, fully intending to go back, but I didn’t. She tracked me down, served me with papers and I signed them without even calling her. She’s better off without me.”
“That’s rough.”
He nods. “So, what’s your story? Last week you were happy, today you’re wallowing in self-pity. What’s her name?”
“Nola, well actually it’s Eleanora, but she lied about her name, so I don’t even… I got played.” I don’t know what spurs me to tell him my saga, but I do. It’s almost refreshing, talking to him and not my family.
“Jamie’s my girl or was. I used to call her Whiskey because she’s named after her daddy, Jameson. Man, that fucker hated me. Pulled a shotgun on me when he found out I knocked up his baby girl.”
“But you married her, at least you took responsibility.”
Ajay laughs. “We actually married on her birthday. Her daddy caught us one day. He busted my balls big time. Chased my naked ass down the road. I figured if she were my wife, he’d have no say.”
I don’t bother to tell him that my mom caught Nola and me together. It’s embarrassing, mostly because I was being irresponsible. It seems that when it comes to that girl, irresponsible is my middle name.
“My problem was, I didn’t have a good example on how to be a husband. No job, underage drinking with my buddies, playing in bands. I was stupid. She was the smart one, asking for a divorce. Anyway, what happened with you?”
“I have a life-long situation and it came to fruition the other night. She was involved with orchestrating the entire thing, blindsided me, and then I found out she’s engaged, and yeah… I don’t know. I’m here, trying to write when I just want to go to her and ask her why she did what she did.”
“Sometimes confrontation isn’t worth it though, you get answers that you don’t expect or can’t handle.”
I’m in agreement with him, but I still want to know. The one time I put myself out there, put my heart on the line, I get burnt. Honestly, it’s a complete turn-off and makes me want to reevaluate how I do things in life.
“I think we should work on this, put some music to them. Want me to call the rest of the band and see if they’re free?”
As reluctant as I am, I nod. Ajay excuses himself and goes to make a few calls. I stare down at the sheet of music and sigh. I feel as if talking to him, airing out my issues and hearing about his life, has lifted this weight off me. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m in a funk.
Within an hour, everyone’s here. While Ajay and I waited, we put the lyrics together, sang it a few times to make sure it worked and made copies for everyone. Right now, the group is putting together a melody, each trying to find our own rhythm that’ll work for this song.
It’s when Liam walks in and takes a look that things change. It takes him about thirty minutes to put the melody together. It’s rough, gritty and perfect.
“It’s something you and Dana should sing together,” he says. “The contrast in your voices and the battle that takes place between love and lies in the song, you both can portray the different characters in the lyrics.”
Dana and I nod in agreement and take our respective places. Liam goes to the booth and starts recording. Dana, she belts out her lines, adding so much emotion to the words. For me, my voice is soft, the pain I’m feeling coming through. The song allows me to express myself. To tell the world about my heartache. And Dana, she counters everything, fighting back. Screaming that she’s the one, despite everything.
When we’re done, and Liam plays it back, he leans down and whispers, “Don’t be me. Don’t give up on the one you love because you’re blinded by what surrounds you.”