Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I should probably have warned you that this is going to be a big music scene,” I said when we finally arrived after three wrong turns, thanks to my terrible navigation skills.
“Cool place,” he said, peering through the windshield at the rustic A-frame cabin with a wraparound deck. It sat on ten acres of woodland and there wasn’t another house in sight. Off to the left was an old stone mill that my dad had converted into a rehearsal space and now the doors were wide open.
Winnebagos and vans were parked near the firepit in the clearing, and from the back deck, I heard Ian’s booming voice over the loud music.
The party had already gotten started.
“My mom can be very rock and roll when she gets together with these people.”
Gabriel took the key out of the ignition and turned to me. “By these people, do you mean the Rogue Prophets are here?”
“Well, the Rogues are here. The prophet is dead.”
“God, I love you.” He was laughing so I wasn’t sure he meant it that way.
I shoved my door open and hopped out of the weedmobile. The temperature was ten degrees cooler here and the air felt good on my overheated skin.
Gabriel grabbed our bags from the trunk, and we walked up the winding stone path through the tall grass and wildflowers.
“I meant that,” he said, snagging my hand to stop me and turning me to face him. “I love you.”
Above him the sky was a crisp, sharp blue and the sun on his face made his skin shimmer gold. I knew I loved him too, and had for a while, but this thing we had felt so big, so overwhelming and all-consuming that when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. Not a peep.
He put his finger over my lips. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” He gave me a sweet kiss on the lips then bounded to the front door while I stood on the path, trying to process all the emotions those three little words churned up.
Gabriel loved me .
The most beautiful boy in the world loved me. Because he was. Beautiful and soulful and deep. Funny and affectionate and caring. Everything I’d always wanted in a man.
“Gabriel! Come in, come in,” my mom said, holding open the screen door. “I’m so glad you’re here. You can put the bags in the first bedroom on the right, just down that hall. Coming, Cleo?”
I walked through the front door in a daze and hugged my mom.
Gabriel returned to the living room and clapped his hands together. “Put me to work. What can I do to help?”
“He’s a really good dishwasher,” I said.
My mom laughed. “How about you make us a pitcher of Pimm’s.”
Gabriel had no idea what Pimm’s was, so I put him on fruit-cutting duty. While he cut up strawberries, I sliced the cucumbers. From the back screen door, I heard shrieks and hoots of laughter and a girl’s high-pitched scream.
“Oy, keep your hands off her, you smarmy git.” That sounded like Curtis.
“What are you doin’ with this wanker?” That would be Jeremy.
“I’m not a cunt like you. Tell him, love.”
It was the British invasion.
I heard the screen door open and slap shut, and then, “Baby Blue! How’s my favorite goddaughter?
” I turned and Ian swept me off my feet.
Literally. He was six foot four and built like a Viking with flowing dark hair and a beard.
“Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He lowered me to my feet and held me at arms-length.
“You look more and more like him every day.”
I sighed. It was going to be a long weekend. But I couldn’t help but smile. Out of the three remaining Rogue Prophets, Ian was my favorite. “Hey, Ian. Good to see you. Ian, this is Gabriel. My boyfriend,” I added.
Gabriel gave me a big smile. It was the first time I’d ever introduced him as my boyfriend.
Ian gave him a bro hug. There was a lot of back slapping. “So this is the voice of a generation.”
Gabriel visibly shuddered. “I would never claim that. Kurt Cobain already wears that crown and it doesn’t look like it’s doing him any favors.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ian said, scratching his beard. “But it’s not a title anyone asks for, is it? Did you bring your guitar?”
Gabriel shot me a look. “I didn’t know it was that kind of party.”
“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Ian said, slinging an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders like they were already best “mates.” “We’ll get you hooked up. You can use one of Nicky’s guitars.”
Gabriel looked like he was going to pass out. Jimmy Page wasn’t his only hero, I guess.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re just with me because my dad was a rock star, aren’t you?”
He pulled me against his side. “It’s crazy how well you know me.”
“Gabriel doesn’t want to be a rock star,” I told Ian.
“Sounds like you’ve got your head on straight,” Ian said. “You get that record deal and you call the shots. Stay true to yourself, mate. Wish I’d learned that lesson sooner. Lost too many friends and fucked up too many relationships.”
While they talked, their mutual admiration evident, I filled a pitcher with ice, sparkling lemonade and a generous amount of Pimm’s. My favorite summer cocktail.
“Hey, babe, I’m out of cigarettes.” A girl with long, blonde hair in cutoffs and a tank top wrapped her arms around Ian and kissed him before plucking a pack of Camels out of his back pocket. After he lit her cigarette she turned and leaned her back against his chest, giving us a little wave.
“Hi, y’all. I’m Mandy. I love your dress.” Her gaze swung to Gabriel. “And your shirt. You guys look all psychedelic like sparkly rainbows.” She waved her hand through the air and watched it like she was seeing unicorns.
She must have been because my dress was white eyelet, and Gabriel was wearing faded black cargo shorts with a striped Panama shirt he bought at a secondhand shop. He got a kick out of it because the name Jimmy was embroidered above the palm tree on the pocket.
“I’m tripping,” Mandy said. “I did shrooms and everything’s all…” She swirled her hands in the air.
“You’ve got shrooms?” Gabriel said, perking up.
“Yeah,” Ian said. “You want some?”
I grabbed Gabriel by the collar and yanked him against my side. “No. He’s good.”
“Maybe later,” Ian said, ambling away with Mandy, who was asking if everything was always so bright and shimmery.
“Very rock and roll,” Gabriel said.
“You never wanted to be a rock star, remember?”
He picked up his knife and threw it into the air, catching it by the handle. “Let’s cut up this fruit.”
“Stop showing off,” I muttered.
He leaned over and kissed my temple while I hacked up an orange and massacred some mint leaves.
I didn’t want to lose Gabriel to the world of rock and roll.
None of the Rogue Prophets had managed to hold on to a long-term relationship. Their marriages had all been destroyed by too much time on the road or too much alcohol and drugs or because they’d cheated on their wife one too many times.
I didn’t want the big, bad world to change Gabriel. But none of that was within my control.
If he wanted to do mushrooms, he was going to do mushrooms.
There was nothing quite as surreal as watching your boyfriend jamming with the Rogue Prophets, playing your dad’s guitar, and singing “Baby Blue” on a makeshift stage in a converted mill.
Earlier, we were chilling on the back deck, drinking Pimm’s and listening to Ian’s stories. I’d heard his road stories a hundred times, but they were always entertaining, and they were all new for Gabriel.
My mom, of course, had chimed in with little anecdotes about me, which had prompted Ian to tell a story about the time we were at Glastonbury.
“This must have been back in ’80 or ’81.
Cleo was nine or ten. Ole bossy boots,” Ian joked.
“They’d set up this charity that year to raise money for kids with disabilities and when Cleo found out about it, she runs up to me and Nicky and she’s in tears.
So he pulls her into his arms and asks her what’s wrong, who hurt her.
He was ready to beat up anyone who even looked crossed-eyed at his baby girl,” Ian said with a laugh.
“So Cleo says, ‘Daddy, I need all your money to help the kids. And I need all your money too, Uncle Ian. So, like a million dollars. At least . You have to help because it’s not fair.’ She was so upset.
She’s a lot like Nicky. He always had a cause.
He gave all his money away to charity. He said one person doesn’t need so much when there are so many people in the world suffering. ”
I don’t remember my dad being so protective of me, but after Ian told the story, that memory came back to me so vividly. What I remember most is how much I used to adore my dad and how proud I’d been to watch him on that stage while I was surrounded by all his fans in a field in Somerset.
“He was a right pain in the arse,” Curtis said gruffly. “He never had any money on him. We’d go to a restaurant and when the bill came, he’d say, ‘Oy, Curtis, spot me twenty quid, yeah?’ I knew I’d never see that money again.”
Everyone laughed.
“But the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Curtis said. “Baby Blue’s just like her daddy. You could have been set for life but you would have made him proud. He would have liked what you did.”
“What did you do?” Gabriel asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” Ian scoffed. “She donated her inheritance to the charities that were near and dear to Nicky’s heart.”
Gabriel tugged me into his lap and nuzzled his nose into the side of my neck. “I feel so lucky to have you in my life, Baby Blue. Your heart is just as big and sloppy as mine.”
It was so true, and so sweet that I hadn’t even minded the nickname.
Now, I was just another devoted groupie watching the Rogue Prophets with Gabriel filling in for my dad as the lead singer, surrounded by twenty or thirty people, half of whom I’d never met.
My mom wrapped her arm around me, and we swayed to the music. She had tears in her eyes, and I was beginning to understand why it was so hard for her to move on.
Now I knew how it felt to be in love. Truly, deeply, madly.
And when you fall in love with a musician, their music plays on long after they’ve been gone.