Chapter 30
The next morning, Ray arrives at the studio again with the rest of the Dusty Brooms—including Nicky this time.
He can’t say he’s surprised that Nicky would get in trouble with the police.
He’s pretty involved with the seedy underbelly of drugs, so Ray supposed it was only a matter of time he’d end up getting caught.
But it also makes Ray worried about Gene.
So far things have been good, and maybe Nicky getting arrested will be a wake-up call.
Though Ray isn’t a saint either, smoking weed every now and then himself, so he’s one to talk.
But Gene is closer to Nicky than he is. Hopefully things will get better from now on, but it’s not like he can predict the future.
All he can do is go with the flow and ride the waves.
Last night, it was strange going back to the hotel without Carol.
Granted, he’s used to her being gone every now and then for her gigs, but now she’s really, truly, actually gone.
He couldn’t use that opportunity to sneak into Gene’s room, though.
Toshiko stayed with him during the night, and will likely still be spending quite a lot of time with him for the foreseeable future.
She is his official girlfriend, after all.
As Ray finds a seat on one of the couches in the main room of the studio next to Santiago, Dennis walks up to them both, holding a magazine in his hands.
“Found something in here I figured you all want to see,” Dennis says, handing the magazine to Ray.
“Oh, really? What’s this about?” Ray says, looking at the cover. The main photo isn’t anything special—just a picture of Rod Stewart—but the smaller text has him do a double-take.
‘Dusty Brooms Sweep Up: Pulling No Punches.’
“Punches?” Ray says. “Hey, Gene? Come here.”
Gene steps away from Toshiko for a moment to come over to the couch, sitting on the armrest to look over the magazine with Ray and Santi. He puts his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “What’s this?”
“We’ll find out together. Here, let me find the page,” Ray says, opening the magazine and flipping through it.
He stops when he sees the photo—and he gasps.
“No way, that’s the guy you punched!” Santi exclaims, taking Ray’s words right out of his mouth.
In black-and-white is the face of one of the Kilotones: Jack Fisher, which is apparently his name.
The photographer credit is a name Ray doesn’t recognize, not Maurice.
Jack’s nose is dark, blood dripping from it; this photo must’ve been taken after Ray and Gene had left.
But what’s most striking is his expression—one of defeat, looking off to the side.
“Oh my god, that is him,” Gene says, the weight of his hand on Ray’s shoulder so warm.
“I guess it makes sense that this incident would make it to one of these rags. There were a lot of people at the party,” Ray says.
“What does it say though?” Gene asks, worry in his tone. “What does it say about us?”
“Here, let me read it.” Ray says the text aloud, “‘Halloween was indeed a frightful night, but not like you’d expect. The Kilotones’ Jack Fisher got the hell scared out of him when the Dusty Brooms’ very own Gene Hillard came at him with his fists.’”
“Oh, really?” Gene says, sounding annoyed.
“Well, hang on. What’s the rest say… ‘But Gene didn’t act out of nowhere.
It was all for a good cause! Jack was threatening Ray Roderick, frontman of the Dusty Brooms, and Gene came in to save the day.
Before Jack could throw the first punch, Gene was as quick as lightning, shutting any arguments down with his fists.
Talk about a good friend, coming to the rescue! ’”
“A good friend, huh?” Santi teases with a smile.
“Shut up, Santi,” Ray laughs. “‘Will Jack learn to cool it next time things get heated, or will he run into trouble again? Either way, the Dusty Brooms made it known they’re a force to be reckoned with. They bring the edge, and that’s what we love about rock-’n’-roll.’ And… that’s it.”
“Huh, that doesn’t sound that bad,” Gene says with a nod. “In fact, I kinda like it.”
“See? I told you guys it’d be alright,” Dennis says, holding his hand out.
Ray places the magazine back into Dennis’s hand. “Yeah. Thank god.”
Because the last thing Ray needs is for the media to catch on to anything romantic between him and Gene.
It’s not fair—why does the world have to be as bigoted as it is?
He just wanted to have fun during that party, letting loose and cuddling up with Gene.
Is that too much to ask, for such a simple thing?
He’s thankful that the article didn’t say anything about him sitting in Gene’s lap, the slur Jack called him, none of that.
But just because he lucked out this time, can he keep lucking out?
Maybe, but for how long? Should he bother risking anything with Gene at all unless they’re truly, completely alone with each other?
Would Gene even want to anymore, if Toshiko is nearby?
He can’t answer that, and is afraid to ask. He has no idea.
And that fucking scares him.
But at least he can feel some sort of reassurance as Gene still rests his hand on his shoulder. The warmth, though small, ignites a tiny flicker of hope.
As the day goes on, the Dusty Brooms finish recording another track that’ll be going on their third album.
Progress is slow going, having been stuttered by Carol’s exit and the trouble with Nicky.
But Dennis reassures Ray that he’ll schedule them all some more time next month, either here at Sunset Sound again or at a studio closer to home.
Ray can’t keep his mind off the magazine he’d read with them all earlier.
Now that he’s a celebrity, so much of his personal life is made public.
Eventually the rags are going to report on him and Carol breaking up.
What are they going to say? How are they going to spin it?
Ray knows he’s going to be bombarded with countless questions in interviews.
How will he answer them? No way in hell can he tell the media the truth. He’ll figure something out.
It’s laughable what that one rag had said of him and Carol during the summer: ‘meant for each other.’ What a load of shit.
It also will only be a matter of time until they report on Nicky’s drug charges.
The rags already know about it, having taken their pictures as they exited the courthouse.
But maybe this particular news won’t be all that bad.
They’re hardly the first rock band to get in trouble for drugs.
It’ll be just like how the article framed Gene punching Jack—it’ll work out, painting them as ‘rock-’n’-roll bad boys.
’ Ray doesn’t mind the sound of that. Maybe I should start wearing a leather jacket more often.
Presently, they’re gearing up to start recording a new song.
Ray and Gene haven’t played this one for the rest of the Brooms yet, but Ray hopes they’ll like the idea.
It’s the one they wrote on the bus early on in the tour: ‘Someone Like You’.
The band congregates in the main room of the studio by the sound engineer station—cables, wires, wood-paneled speakers and all.
Ray sits next to Gene on a plush flower-print couch, Gene with an acoustic guitar in his lap, while the rest of their group either stands or sits in folding chairs around them.
Gene strums the opening chords. Intending for it to be a duet between him and Gene, Ray sings the first verse to them all, then the chorus by himself, reading the lyrics from his little notebook in his hands.
Once he’s done, Gene takes over singing the second verse solo.
Ray joins him again in the second chorus, singing the melody while Gene sings the harmony.
“But that’s just how it is… I know it to be true… I love you,” they both sing, and Ray makes eye contact with Gene on the last line. Gene’s hazel eyes glisten, tender and sweet. Ray wants more, and is ready to sing the bridge—
“This is beautiful, boys, beautiful!” Dennis says cheerfully, standing beside them, giving them a few claps. It makes Gene stop strumming his guitar. “But something about this song strikes me as odd. This is… a love song, right? I mean, you both did just sing the words ‘I love you’.”
“Yeah, it’s a love song,” Ray says, looking up at his manager. “We’ve done love songs before.”
“Yes, but none of them were duets.” Dennis holds his pointer finger up. “This song here with Gene, is he only singing the second part as a place-holder? Because to me, it sounds odd to have two men singing a love song to each other.”
Ray can’t really think of a rebuttal, having worried about the same thing himself, but he doesn’t have to say anything when Gene replies, “The lyrics are vague enough to where instead of singing to each other, it could be two guys singing to their respective love interests, whoever they may be.”
“I guess so.” Dennis rubs his chin.
“I don’t see anything wrong with two guys singing to each other,” Maurice chimes in.
“Well, I understand why you wouldn’t mind.
” Dennis doesn’t say because you’re gay out loud in respect to Maurice, in case the sound engineers are listening in.
“But I’m thinking about our audience as a whole.
They might find the idea strange. What if instead of Ray singing with Gene for this one, we brought in a guest female vocalist? ”
“A female vocalist?” Ray says, his upper lip lifting in a sneer.
“Yes! It would solve the problem. There’d be no confusion that way—you could be either singing to different loved ones, or singing to each other, and it wouldn’t matter.”
“What if we got Pat to sing?” Stefan comments, surprising not just Ray but everyone else in the room—especially Pat herself.
“Hell no,” she says with an exaggerated frown, sitting in a folding chair next to Stefan. “You couldn’t pay me to sing. And even if for some odd miracle I did sing, I would never want to sing a love song with Ray.” She gestures toward him teasingly.
“Hey!” He pouts.
“Just sayin’,” Pat chuckles.