Chapter 15
Gene’s time in Japan passes by in a flash. From the moment he stepped foot in the country to now, a week later, already about to say his goodbyes, he feels like he barely did anything. Which, honestly, is absolutely true.
He knew it would be hard to navigate a country where he only could speak a few words of their language, so Toshiko led him everywhere, exploring the heart of Tokyo.
The city was beautiful—tall skyscrapers all around, crowds of people walking everywhere, signs littered with kanji and kana, and the glorious Tokyo Tower looming in the distance.
But he felt awkward, always having to relay his thoughts to Toshiko, having her translate, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do other than follow her around like a lost puppy.
He felt like everyone who passed by him judged him as some ragged, unkempt American hippie with no respect for manners or politeness.
Toshiko reassured him that wasn’t the case—people just weren’t used to seeing someone dressed like a rockstar in person.
His sort of people are only seen on record albums, posters, movies.
He knew she was right, because even in America, it’s not like everyone dresses as carefree as himself—haircut long and shaggy, buttons of his shirt open, necklaces and bracelets dangling.
When he wasn’t bounding around Tokyo with Toshiko, he simply relaxed at her apartment—with her or without her.
He liked to stay home by himself when she needed to work with the label, feeling too shy to accompany her.
He wouldn’t be able to understand a lick of their conversations anyway.
If he was going to idle around, he’d rather be home.
He brought along plenty of weed—and even some acid from Pete—to keep himself busy, thankfully getting it by airport security with ease.
Pete gave him pointers on how to do so. Weed was one of the only things keeping his mind at bay without him freaking out about being on the other side of the world.
No, he could just sit back, relax, and toke on a pipe, letting his mind numb.
When he really needed to calm down, he’d take a tab of acid.
Those were some fun nights. He’d sit by himself, put on a record (usually something Japanese he’d never heard before), and drift away in a haze of colorful stars and squares.
He only had sex with Toshiko once this entire week.
It was when she came home in the middle of an acid trip.
She didn’t seem to mind, happy Gene wanted to be with her, at least from his own perspective.
They usually had a lot of fun doing other things anyway, like lounging together, listening to music, or going out exploring the city…
Sex was just a bonus. That’s how Gene views it.
So if they didn’t get around to having sex…
oh well. He’s not like Ray, who has a ridiculously high libido.
Although, if it were him with me instead…
Honestly, so many of Gene’s thoughts were consumed by Ray.
He would’ve loved to give him a phone call, but he didn’t want to bother Toshiko with figuring out how to talk to an operator in Japanese, not to mention the astronomical dollar amount for something so small.
So he did the simple thing, and sent Ray a postcard.
Even if Ray gets it by the time Gene arrives home, it’ll still be a nice memento of his trip, proving how much he missed Ray while he was gone.
Which is why now, he’s more than ready to finally be heading home. Toshiko and Yasuhiro see him off at the airport, staying behind. Gene gives his girlfriend one last kiss, wishing her the best of luck with her upcoming tour, and he walks past the gates, carry-on in hand.
After flying over the Pacific, he lands in California, then he switches planes to take him to one that will actually bring him home, back to Michigan.
It’s a long and grueling flight, and he sleeps through some of it.
But he can never manage to stay asleep for long, nerves keeping him awake—much too eager to see the Brooms again. Or, more specifically, Ray.
When he finally lands in Detroit, he uses one of the airport’s payphones to call the Brooms’ residence.
Santiago answers, and he does the honors of picking Gene up, much like he did when dropping him off at the beginning of his trip.
As expected, Santi asks him tons of questions about how his time away was while they’re driving home.
Gene answers to the best of his ability—laughing at how Santi jokes about Gene being too high to remember most of it.
“Okay, yeah, I might’ve gotten high for quite a lot of days… Well, maybe almost every day, honestly,” Gene says, sitting in the passenger seat of Santi’s car. “But that doesn’t mean I was high every waking moment.”
“Sure, sure,” Santi chuckles, staring ahead at the busy freeway in front of them. “I knew you wouldn’t be. I’m just giving you shit, man.”
“I figured.” Gene smiles. “How’s it been back home?”
“More or less the same. Everyone’s been pretty antsy for the upcoming tour, though. I think we’ve been all sitting around for too long. We’ve never gone this long without performing a show.”
“No, I don’t think we have.” Gene shakes his head. “But I guess I appreciated the break.”
“Yeah. You got to go to fucking Japan, after all.” Santi lets go of the wheel with one hand to elbow Gene in the shoulder. “Lucky son of a bitch.”
Gene laughs. “I wish you guys could’ve come with me, though. Maybe we could tour Japan ourselves someday. But yeah, I really missed you all.”
“Missed you too, Gene,” Santi says, putting his hand back on the steering wheel. “Ray in particular has been missing you like crazy.”
“I bet so. I’ve missed him too.” More than you could ever know.
They drive on, listening to the radio, cruising down the freeway.
Soon enough they arrive back in Lake Orion, and Santi pulls into the driveway of their farmhouse.
The corn surrounding it is taller than Gene remembers, having grown since he last was here.
It really has been three weeks since I’ve been home.
An ache spreads in his chest, happy that he’s finally back, but also a strange kind of homesickness—one he knows will be healed as soon as he steps through the door.
And so, not wasting any time, he and Santiago grab his belongings from the trunk and head up the short set of stairs to the side door.
Guitar strapped to his back, holding his carry-on suitcase in one hand while Santi hauls the bigger one, Gene uses his free hand to turn the knob and enter, stepping into the foyer.
In the distance, coming from the living room, he hears Ray say, “Are they back? Is that Gene?”
He smiles. “Hey guys! I’m back!”
He kicks off his boots and Santiago does the same, shutting the door behind themselves.
He can’t wait any longer. He needs to see Ray.
In no time at all he’s briskly walking through the kitchen, setting his carry-on suitcase on the floor by the phone, not giving a damn, making his way to the main room.
Waiting for him is Ray, standing right behind the threshold—with the biggest grin Gene’s ever seen on his face.
“Gene! You’re finally back,” Ray says, clasping his hands in front of himself. Oh, isn’t Ray so beautiful in person, his deep blue eyes, his silky blond hair, not to mention his gorgeous form-fitting outfit with a button-up shirt and tight slacks.
“Made it here in one piece,” Gene chuckles. He sets his guitar down on the floor, next to the record rack.
“Glad you’re home,” Pat says, sitting on the couch with Carol, who simply smiles.
Stefan is here too, sitting in his usual armchair, and he gives a straight-forward, “Hey.”
As much as Gene would like to greet everyone properly, he can’t get another word out before Ray basically tackles him, throwing his arms around Gene’s shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace.
“Welcome back, Gene. I got your postcard. I loved it. I missed you so goddamn much,” Ray says, shoving his nose in Gene’s long hair.
Gene’s heart can barely keep up. Everyone is staring at them, yet Ray gives them no mind as he grasps Gene tighter.
His mind is in a whirl. But the warmth of Ray’s touch is so soothing, so wonderful, he knows he shouldn’t mind the others either.
They can deal with seeing two best friends sharing a moment together after being apart for so long. Nothing wrong with that.
And so, Gene wraps his own arms around Ray, holding him as close as he possibly can, reaching up to thread his fingers through Ray’s curly hair.
“I missed you too, Ray.”
Ray adjusts his blue blouse, fidgeting with the buttons until he’s fed up with it.
Whatever. He undoes all the buttons in front, letting it hang open and show his chest. With every movement, the fabric shimmers and sparkles.
Today is the Dusty Brooms’ first live show in nearly three months, and what better time to wear something incredibly flashy than now.
He waits behind the stage-right-side door of Cobo Arena with Santiago and Nicky beside him.
“You ready, man?” Santi says, his bushy moustache bringing prominence to his smile. He’s dressed rather flashy too, wearing matching orange pants and a blazer.
“Absolutely.” Ray nods. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
From the speakers booming on the other side of the door, Ray hears one of the venue staff members announce to the audience:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to Cobo Arena, from right here in Michigan, the Dusty Brooms!”
Another staff member opens the door. The screams and cheers increase tenfold with the barrier now ajar.
The staff member escorts Ray and the Brooms onto the stage, where they take their spots.
Bright lights shine down on the stage; Ray does his best to look at the audience without blinding himself.
He steps up to the microphone, holding it steady in one hand.