Chapter 14
Multiple gigs ~ Gray
Stretching contentedly, I woke from my dreamy state, instantly remembering Hettie’s warm body wrapped around mine. Opening my eyes with a start, I was devastated when I found my bed empty and my eyes scanned the room—she’d gone.
Rolling over, I sighed in disappointment and quickly reached for my cell. I called her number, but she didn’t answer. When her voicemail kicked in I left a message. “Hey, baby. Where did you go?” I hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Last night was incredible. Amazing...phenomenal. I missed you this morning. I’m leaving later, please call me. Don’t leave it like this, Hettie. I like you…I like you a lot.”
From the moment I hung up I knew my words weren’t enough, but I still tried to carry some hope she’d relent and call me; even when deep down I knew she wouldn’t. My heart felt bruised and wounded from what we’d shared the previous night. We were stupid to air those feelings again. I figured we were definitely done and instantly began to grieve the loss that we’d probably never connect in that way again.
I tried hard to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach as I packed my carry-on distracted by my cell phone, when I should be focusing on what I had to do to be ready to leave. By the time I was ready to go, I had left her three messages in total. I was in denial it would be the last I’d see of her, but Hettie never called back.
Brody was an amazing guy, he picked up on my mood and kept me company as I got drunk on the bus while we headed for Galveston. In my drunken state I agreed with him that maybe I wasn’t at my best when it came to dealing with my feelings. He didn’t disagree, and once I had his validation of that I wasn’t sure I’d ever have what Hettie needed anyway. All I knew was I felt different when I thought about her compared to anyone else. I felt different when I was with her.
Comparing Hettie to my relationship with Lizzie, I knew Lizzie had only been a habit. If I was honest with myself the first few months were fun, but I never had all the gut-wrenching stuff with her I felt when I thought of Hettie.
I guess the novelty of Lizzie and I wore off, and that’s when the fault finding started. Nothing I did seemed to smooth my path, but in hindsight, that coincided with the headaches and mood swings she’d begun to have.
Lizzie’s bad moods and erratic behavior had become more frequent as time went on, and as I appeared to be the source of her irritation, it had come as a relief when she’d sat me down to tell me she wasn’t happy. Of course, I had appeared suitably sad when she ended things between us, but in truth, all I felt was relief. Because if she hadn’t have been the one to call time on us that night, I sure as shit would have.
At least one positive result came from Brody’s drunken counseling session. I had agreed to seek help after, taking some advice he gave me. We’d had various discussions over the previous couple of years about how I saw women, and after my recent fling with Hettie, and the other women in my past, I decided to give my feelings a rest and throw everything into my music for a while.
Focusing on music helped me gain perspective on all the things I disliked about myself. One of which was since I’d been a professional musician I’d neglected my health and my morals. Living a life where the drink poured like water and the women were easy, I’d used my fair share and probably pickled my liver to the point where I was lucky to have gone as far as I had and remained unscathed where long term health issues were concerned.
With that in mind, I gave myself a reality check and although it was a challenge I placed a self-imposed celibacy mark on myself while I tried to get my head around the choices I’d made. It turned out to be a good thing, and it forced me to face some of the things I wasn’t proud of about the way I saw women.
My body’s lack of sex also made my guitar performances appear like I was on fire, with some pretty aggressive displays from all the unspent testosterone running around my system. I’d sworn off all my vices, apart from the odd text, or email from Phoebe. After the last dialogue between us, the last thing I had wanted was to cut off all contact with her. I still regarded her as a friend.
After the excesses of the previous years, Lizzie’s death, and the stuff with Phoebe and Hettie, I figured that my emotional health had taken a bit of a beating. Brody had been on my case for a long time about how I refused to connect with women. I wasn’t aware I didn’t. Women loved me.
Normally, I ignored what he said, refusing to accept there was anything wrong, but after being with Hettie again, it had made me admit to myself that maybe I was more emotionally fragile than I knew. I was comfortable enough in my own skin to concede I had some problems connecting my feelings to situations, but it took some persuasion to accept I needed some outside help. Eventually, Brody wore me down and I made an appointment to see a shrink for another ‘taster session’.
An hour after I had filled in a pile of personal questionnaires, the therapist took one look at them and concluded I was still grieving Lizzie. Fleur, the head doctor, believed had it not been for Phoebe in those early days I’d probably have gone off the rails and could well have had a total breakdown. I figured she’d got that part right.
Doctor Fleur, was a psychiatrist who was quick to offer me the help she thought I would benefit from, but as she’d already highlighted what the issue was, I took to the internet to find a self-help regime I could follow while I was still moving around with the band.
Being self-motivated I placed myself on a health kick, and tried to retrain my body, mind and emotions from hundreds of articles, and self-help exercises I’d found on the internet. It started with one of those pop-up ads on my tablet. They annoyed the fuck out of me usually, but finding that first article by chance, it quickly became the best tools I had for motivating myself back into shape.
Four months later I’d managed to push my tryst with Hettie to the back of my mind. She never went away but she wasn’t my first waking thought. It was progress. Mentally, I felt stronger, physically I was fitter, and socially I became less irritable. Lizzie was no longer a burning thought every day like she had been in the early days, and if I was honest, once I had unpicked my feelings I knew that Brody was right. It was guilt I felt about Lizzie dying rather than missing her presence.
Playing multiple gigs in seven states in the US had kept my mind busy, and although there had been plenty of pussy on offer, I was determined not to slip back to my old ways. Once I had committed to the self-help regime, I had the drive to heal.
Being kind to myself by not having mindless sex, especially alongside three drunk guys shagging their way across route 66 was damned hard. But I had a will of iron to detox my mind and body. It had taken a lot of willpower, but ultimately, I felt I had reaped the benefits from my abstinence. After the first couple of months I had woken up each day looking forward to whatever it brought, rather than merely trying to get through it.
From the outside, most people viewed being a musician in a rock band as a lazy, privileged way to earn a living. I know I had before I was one. The reality of the job was far from the truth. As far as the advantaged part goes, that was mostly true, but when you are part of a working band, you never have the luxury of being lazy.
The physical stamina and mental focus of touring is punishing if you aren’t used to it, and if you are, it’s so easy to become complacent. Complacency leads to mistakes…every note needs to be spot on; one wrong gig could bring negative publicity that affects whole tours.
Working at that pace eventually drains all your resources and that’s when long-term mental and physical fatigue sets in. Why else do most celebrities turn to recreational drugs? It’s usually to perk themselves up when they are dead on their feet because the demands of the job don’t let them have regular sleep and days off to recover.
****
Nine months after we’d broken ground in the US, CraVed had its first number one album. It was our third album release, aptly named Breaking Ground, and I was right back into the swing of things, much livelier for my sabbatical from alcohol and women. I had suppressed my thoughts about Hettie to focus on my goals, and with each day the gut-wrenching feeling I had about walking away from her again had lessened.
Caleb was still the bane of my life, shagging anything he could hold down long enough, and Brody was loved up to the nines with Dana. Because of this, I found myself hanging with Surge a lot. He was pretty quiet, but I got to know him a whole lot better and I found he had the driest sense of humor I’d ever come across. He was picky when it came to his women. I liked that about him. It was while I was with Surge that I broke my dry spell and got laid again.
From that point on I was less arrogant and more considerate of who I spent my time with. Don’t get me wrong, I could still be a shit when I wanted to be, and my alpha persona would raise its head whenever my position was challenged, but even though I had the occasional one night stand, the women I chose to spent time with had to be something special for me to want to give them my time.
I wasn’t a saint; four nights on a tour bus with Brody fucking Dana like there was no tomorrow, and performing to masses of excited fans, gave me the raging horn and sometimes I needed an outlet for that. I got so bad at one stage, when I brushed up against my best friend’s wife in the passageway I got a stiffy that could have cracked a block of ice in half, and it was an innocent encounter. I wasn’t even attracted to her. By day five we had woven our way up to the Colorado Mountains, pulled an overnighter at a luxury lodge in the resort of Keystone and I was relieved not to have another broken night’s sleep while Brody did his best to break Dana.
The accommodation was situated in the snow covered, picture pretty mountain town with crowds of vacation skiers, and when I stepped off the bus in front of the stone and wood building, I sighed with relief and took a deep breath. I never accounted for the thin air when I did that, it made my brain feel loose in my head for a few seconds.
I had two days off in the lap of luxury, sleeping in a California king-sized bed. It was the best news I’d had all week. Entering my suite shortly before 11:00 am, I barely dropped my carry-on before I got naked in that big, old bed and crashed out fast asleep. After the stiff mattress and cramped conditions of the bus, it was like falling asleep on a fluffy cloud.
When I woke up, it was pitch black outside and my cell was vibrating on my nightstand.
“Yeah?” I croaked, my tongue sticking dryly to the roof of my mouth. The thin air was so dehydrating.
“Are you eating with us?” Brody asked curtly.
“What time is it?”
“8:15 pm,” he replied.
“Jeez, I slept for nine hours straight?”
“You must have needed it. Are you coming?
“Yeah, give me ten to sort myself out and I’ll be down.”
“All right, we’ll wait in the bar.”
I closed the call and stretched out, once again basking in how good the bed felt. At that point I could have easily rolled onto my side, curled up, and slept for another nine hours. I forced myself out of bed in a sleepy stupor, grabbed a quick shower, and slowly came back to life with the continuously hot running water. The puny excuse for a shower we had on the bus ran cold every time someone turned the water on in the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and ready to roll, so I headed down to the bar to meet the rest of the band.
As soon as I turned the corner I saw Brody out of the periphery of my vision, but my eyes met with those of a beautiful older woman. She looked in her mid-forties, and the way she held my gaze was unnerving. No matter how hard I tried I didn’t want to look away. I kept my eyes trained on her for longer than I’d ever looked at anyone for the first time apart from Hettie.
Suddenly her lips curved into an amused smile. Her beautiful, plump lips in deep red lipstick framed her perfect white teeth. I found myself smiling back. Brody slapped my back, and the distraction was enough to pull me out of my daydream, enabling me to turn to face him.
Looking over my shoulder, Brody patted my chest with a flat hand. “No wonder you’re looking, I’d even consider tapping that, and you know how I feel about Dana.” I frowned possessively, and he nudged me with his elbow. “I wouldn’t wait until after dinner to make my move, if I were you, Caleb also has designs on her.”
“Let him take his shot, it’ll be fun to watch.” I said, without looking back and slid onto the barstool.
“You know a lot of women think Caleb’s hot, Gray. I wouldn’t underestimate him.”
“I’m not interested in anyone who’s interested in a guy like him,” I replied.
“You were interested in Phoebe,” he countered with a smirk.
“Yeah, but she only went with him because he was with you when you met Dana.”
“True.”
“And Pheebs and I just kinda happened…after Lizzie.”
“All right, I get your point, keep your hair on,” he said, rolling his eyes to his hairline.
Even as we sat talking I could feel the woman’s eyes boring holes in my back. Caleb stood over by the window talking to Surge, sounding loud and obnoxious as a way of trying too hard to attract her attention. I’d seen the same routine a hundred times from him. Brody nodded in his direction and I slid off the bar stool, casually shoving a hand in my pocket. “Let’s eat.”
“What? You’re just gonna let him have her?”
“Nah, she’s not gonna let him have her. She’s waiting for me,” I answered confidently.
“Damn, that’s a pretty cocky statement, Gray.”
“She’s a salmon woman not a pilchard.” I smirked.
Brody chuckled, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means she likes big and juicy not something she has to nibble at. Come on, let’s eat. She’ll be here when I get back.”
“And if she’s not?”
“Then she got what she deserves.”
Brody slapped my back again and followed me past the woman I’d locked eyes so hard with. Ignoring the whole scene, I never even threw her a glance on the way out.
“You’re too fucking cool for your own good these days,” he quipped.
“Nah, I’ve got some faith in that chick,” I replied as we sat, and lifted up the menus.
When our food arrived, Brody and I had a quiet dinner together. It was nice…peaceful. We chatted about our future band plans while Dana was still sleeping off her four days in the saddle with her man. Caleb and Surge never left the bar the whole time we ate, and I wondered if it had dawned on Caleb at any point, that with all the will in the world, the woman he was trying to impress wasn’t ever going to touch him…not even with a bargepole.
Once we’d finished our food, I told Brody it was time to make my move and stood up from the table, wiping my mouth with my napkin. Reaching down, I picked up the soda I’d been drinking and swallowed the rest in one gulp. “Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done,” I said with a wink.
Brody smirked knowingly and pushed his chair back, hands on the table. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got, stud.”
Together we made our way back to the bar area, and once again, I made a point of not looking at the woman. Caleb was being the life and soul of the room, and had managed to join her party by that point. Surge stood leaning against the window looking bored as his wingman. I nodded to Caleb, smirked wickedly at Surge, and sat back at the bar with my back to them.
“Fuck, that was some move, Gray,” Brody said, his voice laced with sarcasm. I figured he had the idea I’d changed my mind. I smirked. Of course, I hadn’t. I was lining her up. Signaling to the bartender for his attention, he came over bending his head close to me to hear what I wanted, mainly because Caleb’s voice was drowning out most other sounds around us.
“I’ll take a bottle of your best champagne, two glasses, and a cooler to go. Put it on room forty twenty-one’s account, thank you.” The bartender nodded his head and set about doing as I asked.
Brody’s smirk became a grin and he raised an eyebrow. “You’re a smooth bastard.”
“Watch and learn,” I prompted, my voice sounding cocky. I was a single man. I could afford to be.
When the bartender came back, I picked up the champagne flutes in one hand, the bucket containing the champagne in the other. Standing slowly, I turned around and stood facing the party in front of me. I knew I had it in the bag as soon as my eyes met hers.
Wandering over to their table, I leaned into Caleb. “You must be starving, you missed dinner.” Caleb stared up at me openmouthed, at least he had stopped talking. I turned to look directly at the woman. “You want to go somewhere a little quieter?” I asked, gesturing with the champagne and glasses.
“Sure, I’d like that,” she said in a slow, sexy Southern accent. Slender long legs uncrossed as she made a move to stand. Caleb’s face scowled in my direction. “Gray, and you are?” I asked, tucking the ice cooler under my arm so that I had a free hand. I completely ignored Caleb.
“Nadine,” she cooed, walking up close to me. My hand fell to her lower back as I led her away from the bar. Brody chuckled as we passed. Just as we were going out of earshot I heard him say to Caleb, “I’ll remind Gray to thank you tomorrow.”
“Damn, how do you do it?” Nadine asked, her eyes expressing her surprise. I thought for a moment she meant picking up women, and was glad when she elaborated before I could answer.
“That guy would drive me crazy if I had to travel around in a bus with him.”
“He told you that? Or you know who we are?”
“Both. He has a loose tongue, so I have you at a disadvantage.”
“He spoke about me?”
“More like he answered my questions.” She laughed out loud.
“Talking about questions, your room or mine?”
“Yours. If I’m going to be fucked by a rock star, it should be in your bed at the very least, right?”
“I have no issue on that score,” I replied. Silently, I was hoping I had the stamina to meet her expectations. I’d only had my hand for company during the previous couple of weeks on the bus, apart from one night when Surge was my wingman.
Less than an hour later, I needn’t have worried. We were still going at it after she’d sucked me off in the first ten minutes, got me hard again, and then rode me like she was riding a winner to the finish line. The best thing about her was she wasn’t shy in telling me what she liked, or how she liked it. I know we both had our expectations met from our night.
When we were done fucking, there was no awkward after-talk. She just slid out of the bed, pulled on her clothes and thanked me for taking care of her. If only all women were like Nadine. My life would be a hell of a lot easier. One night with a sexy cougar and a good night’s sleep, I felt completely refreshed.
****
During the following eight months, my life had become decompartmentalized. Thoughts of Hettie were stronger some days than others, and once I almost called then thought better of it because of how she’d left things. So my days consisted of sleeping, eating, playing music, and screwing the odd groupie whenever the mood took me…which gradually became more often.
I was doing better without women but I did notice when Phoebe stopped all contact. I still missed talking to her some days, but I guessed time had healed her heart and she’d moved on. I had learned a valuable lesson with her. Never to let any of the other groupies get close. They used me and I used them. End of story.