Chapter 17 #2
“Have you had any sort of song on your mind? Like something bluesy, harder, or maybe like a ballad?”
“Y’know, honestly I don’t think we’ve done that many ballads.” Ray scratches his chin. “Though if we do write more, I think you should sing another on lead, Gene. Your voice sounds beautiful with the slower pace.”
“You think so?” He can feel his cheeks getting hotter.
“Yes, of course, I’ve told you before!” Ray grins. “But we should just feel the groove; if in the moment we’re feeling something more upbeat, we should go with that. But we’ll figure that out when we get there.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“Ahem.”
Carol fake-coughs into her hand.
“What’s up, Carrie?” Ray asks nonchalantly.
“I thought if I didn’t speak up, you were going to completely ignore that I’m even here.”
“What? No, don’t think that, babe. I was just talking with Gene.” He puts a hand on Carol’s shoulder, making Gene’s stomach churn.
“I bet if I just let you guys keep talking, though, you’d just run off with him and forget me, leaving me by myself.” She frowns.
“I wouldn’t do that, babe. What makes you think that?”
“You did it on the Fourth of July.”
Ray lifts his hand off her, running his fingers through his bangs. “Look, we don’t need to relate it to that, okay? That was something else. Me just talking to my best friend for a few minutes shouldn’t bother you.”
Carol sighs, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I wouldn’t normally be bothered with that. But something just feels off. I don’t know. Maybe I’m thinking too much.”
“You are, babe. Hey, maybe we should go back to the room, okay? Wind down a bit.”
She shakes her head, shrugging. “Fine, yeah. That sounds good.”
“I’ll catch you later, Gene.” Ray gives him a smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. No, there’s something else there, something Gene can see if he looks closely. There’s an apology written in there. Maybe some other time, we can have time to ourselves.
That’s how it always is. Every single time. Ray doesn’t have to say the words aloud, but Gene knows what he means. Now isn’t the right time. Carol’s here. Everyone might get suspicious. We have to keep it a secret, otherwise our world as we know it will come crashing down.
I can’t be with you now, Gene.
“Yeah. See you, Ray.” Gene gives him a half-smile back.
What if that’s it?
What if I can never have him like that again?
He doesn’t want to think about it. If he does, he knows he might cry, and god forbid he make a fool out of himself right here in the hotel lounge.
It’s not like this is the end of their friendship.
Barely anything even happened. And besides, he and Ray will likely find another way to be alone, who knows?
So he does his best to keep his cool, as he watches Ray leave with Carol.
He’d have a lot better time keeping his cool if he had something to smoke.
Eyeing around the lounge, he looks for the other Brooms. He spots Santiago sitting with Maurice on one of the couches, Nicky sitting across from them in an armchair, a coffee table in-between them.
Perfect.
They’re stationed only about a dozen feet away from the bar, and he walks up to them, coming up to Nicky’s side.
“Hey guys,” Gene says, setting his hand on the back of Nicky’s chair.
“Hey Gene,” Nicky says, and the other two say the same.
“Been drinking much?” Gene asks, adding a chuckle to keep the tone light.
“I’ve only had one drink,” Santiago says, shrugging. “But I wouldn’t mind another.”
“I might have another, too. Say cheese.” Maurice lifts his camera without a moment to spare, snapping a shot of Gene and Nicky.
“Wha—hey! I wasn’t ready,” Gene laughs.
“Candid shots are often the best ones,” Maurice counters.
“I guess so.” Gene huffs another chuckle. “You get some really good ones like that, where we’re not posed.”
“You see? You get it.”
“I think I’m done drinking for now. Was gonna head upstairs,” Nicky says, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.
“That’s alright,” Santi says. “What about you, Gene? You have any plans?”
“No, just came over to see what you all were up to. Not sure what I’m doing.”
“Ain’t that you all the time?” Santi chuckles. “You don’t have to answer. I’m gonna head up to the bar, though. How ’bout it, Maurice?”
“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” Maurice stands up, stretching his arms over his head.
Santi stands as well and heads over to the bar with the photographer in tow.
Which leaves Gene with Nicky. Usually when they find themselves together, Nicky will offer Gene something to share.
Most of the time it’s a joint, sometimes it’s coke, and most recently it’s been acid.
Gene never needs to ask; it’s just something Nicky does.
He’s like the Santa Claus of illegal substances.
And Gene could really use a present after having his heart torn again.
“I got something new from my old buddies during our stop in Ohio,” Nicky says.
There it is.
“Oh, yeah. You met up with them again for a minute,” Gene says. “Was it nice, catching up?”
“Yeah, everyone’s doing good. They’re real proud of me for being able to go on tour with you guys.”
“That’s nice. You’re a wonderful keys player; we love having you.”
“Thanks, man. But anyway, as I was saying…”
“Oh yeah. Something new.”
“I’ve already tried it with them that day, but I bought quite a lot of it.
You know me, I’m more of a social smoker with this kind of stuff.
Don’t really like getting high alone. I can show you if you want, bring it to your room.
I don’t know if Dennis would want me doing it in ours.
” The main five of the Brooms have their own rooms, but the rest of the crew like Nicky still share.
“But this stuff… it got me feeling better than anything I’ve ever had before. ”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll have some, if you’re offering. That sounds like exactly what I need.”
“Great. Can always count on you, Gene.”
They wait until Santi and Maurice come back with their drinks before they take their leave, letting them know they’ll be upstairs.
After grabbing a backpack from the room Nicky shares with Dennis, they retire into Gene’s room, making sure the door is locked behind them.
Nicky already has the joints rolled, pulling one out of an Altoids tin.
Gene briefly remembers Nicky saying something about how what makes these so good is that they’re laced with something, but Gene can’t recall what exactly.
But that doesn’t matter—all that’s important is how it makes him feel.
He’s smoked lots of weed in his life. Tons of it, but this specific blend Nicky gives him hits so differently.
His senses buzz, then soften; he feels energized, yet totally relaxed at the same time.
It lifts him up. Up, up, up. So light, so carefree, like he’s walking amongst angels in the clouds.
It’s so good. So motherfucking good, that he almost forgets where he even is.
He’s on tour with the Dusty Brooms, Nicky at his side, sitting on the bed in his hotel room.
Oh yeah, Nicky offered me this.
“Quick, Nicky, turn on some music.” Gene motions his hand towards the transistor radio sitting atop the dresser.
“Any sort of mood you have in mind?” Nicky turns it on, messing with the dial—the static singing something strange in Gene’s ears.
The white noise of the radio mimics the same white noise in his mind.
“Um… anything. Just pick anything.”
“Alright.”
He keeps turning the dial until he finds something, anything. The first sound that can be recognized as music is a song Gene knows: ‘Silly Love Songs’ by Wings. Nicky stops the dial there, tuning it so the signal is clear, and lets it play.
As the song flows through Gene’s ears and into his brain, a pleasant warmth flutters in his chest. It adds to the good feeling of the high, music combining with it all. His mind isn’t completely numb yet. He takes what little bit he has left of it to focus on the song.
Paul McCartney is absolutely right. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to write silly love songs. Gene wants to write more, that’s for damn sure. But writing will have to wait another day.
Why can’t he and Ray write one now?
Oh, Ray’s in the other room.
He’ll worry about that later.
There are no worries here now.
All that matters is surfing on this high, catching wave after wave.