“How can you be a star when you live beneath them? There’s an amazing freedom that comes with perspective of your place in the universe.” ~Johnny Outlaw
After hearing the news of Cory’s death, the record label arranges a private jet. Dalton, Tommy, Dex, and I fly back together. There’s something going on with the three of them… something other than Cory’s death. I can sense it, but I’m kept out of the loop.
I don’t deal well with death, but no one does I guess. I’ve also developed a sudden fear of flying, or crashing rather, but I suspect they have too by the silence. We keep to ourselves for the most part until Dex tries to be funny. “At least I can’t be blamed for the tour being cancelled.”
Bracing myself for their reaction, I grip the arm rests tightly, and hope Dalton and Tommy will just let it slide.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Dalton pushes up from his chair beside me and stands over him.
Oh no. I unfasten my seatbelt and rush to his side, placing my hand on his wrist, and taking hold. “Hey—”
Dex stands, unafraid, making me even more nervous than the reality that they’re about to throw down on this plane. I have a feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve gotten into a fight, but I hope it doesn’t happen again. “You heard me,” Dex says, sneering. “I know you would’ve blamed me and now you can’t.”
Tommy stands. With his arms between them, he says, “Everyone needs to calm the fuck down. We shouldn’t be fighting right now.”
“So fucking typical,” Dalton says, pushing Dex. “You’re a motherfucking selfish bastard. It’s not about Cory dying, but about you feeling you dodged a bullet of blame.”
Dex comes back, spewing his anger forth, “Fuck you! I know how the great Johnny Outlaw works. You would be nailing me with all the tour troubles. You play the altar boy, but you’re not so fucking innocent. Well, guess what, your past will catch up with you, then see if you’re so high and mighty.” He walks past Dalton, hitting him with his shoulder as he passes, going into one of the two back bedrooms.
Dalton stares at the place where Dex stood, then without a word goes into the other bedroom and slams the door. Tommy and I are left there, confused to what really just happened. From Cory’s death to Dalton’s past, the conversation was shrouded in underlying secrets and threats.
“It’s probably best they’re separated,” Tommy says. “They haven’t been getting along lately.”
I just spent the last twenty-four hours traveling with only a few hours in Paris before getting right back on another plane. I’m tired and upset, but Dalton needs me, so I say, “I’ll check on him.”
After knocking three times, I turn the handle. It’s unlocked, so I walk in quietly and lay down next to him on the bed. The room only has one small light on the wall, keeping the room dim. Sliding my hand over until I touch his hand, I place my pinky over his.
“He may be an asshole, but he’s right,” he says. “My past will catch up with me unless I deal with it.”
“How bad is it?”
He drapes his arm over his eyes, covering up, but it feels more like he’s hiding from me. “I don’t think the drugs and partying I’ve done is gonna surprise anyone or make headlines. Kind of expected of musicians.”
“Then what will make headlines?” I ask hesitantly.
His laugh is deep, hardened and cynical when he says, “A father of a famous musician who calls him a slacker sucking off society.”
Our fingers entwine, the desire to cover him with my body, to protect him from the world takes over. I move to my side and slide my leg over his, my arm across his chest. The intensity his body showed to Dex minutes before is gone. His arm slips under me, bringing me closer.
I still feel the need to tiptoe with my words, not wanting to upset him, so I whisper, “Your Dad thinks he knows the kid you once were, but I don’t think he ever knew you.”
“I don’t think he ever will.” There’s a defensive edge, maybe even some anger in there. “It’s funny how when you grow up in small town America, you think Hollywood’s red carpets and hanging with celebrities.”
“Limos and award shows,” I add. “I remember thinking the same thing before I moved out here for college, maybe I still thought that even in college. Then one day I went to a party in the Hollywood Hills and saw an actor I’d had a crush on when I was a teenager. He was wasted, drugged out, and hitting on everyone. He was a complete mess and a prime candidate for a Where Are They Now article. The bright lights kind of dimmed for me that night.”
“My dad thinks it’s all druggies and people with no souls. Says it was aptly named. I think I just wanted to prove him wrong, but I don’t know if I can.” He sighs, then says, “Dex started using again right before Vegas. No one was worried about the light stuff, but Cory and I knew he was doing more. We just didn’t want to deal with it. But last night we all went to a bar. He’d been gone for a while, so Cory went looking for him. He found him on the floor in the men’s bathroom having seizures. If we hadn’t been there…”
I gasp, but push down the other horrifying feelings that start to overcome me. Calming myself for Dalton’s sake, I ask, “That’s why you had a few days off?”
He nods. “Cory went to the hospital with him. Dex had a severe reaction to some hallucinogens he’d taken. Shit he bought in some alley from a stranger.”
“That’s awful.”
“Tommy got him released a few hours later despite what they wanted. From what we know, the press doesn’t know yet. Cory and I were doing the interview while Tommy kept an eye on him at the hotel. That’s when Rochelle called to say she went into labor.” He sits up and looks into the black sky through the jet windows. “What he said out there… It’s bullshit. He loved Cory. That was his guilt speaking, but it still doesn’t make it right.”
“We all deal with grief differently.”
“You haven’t mentioned it.”
He lets that lie between us, waiting for a response from me. “Mentioned what?”
“That I was supposed to be on that flight.”
A trembling sigh escapes me because I’m not ready to think about if Dalton had caught that flight with Cory. But for him, I’ll be strong. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“You saved me.” He glances over as he slides down onto the bed again. “My bag was packed. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes and I would have been out that door heading for my own death.”
“Dalton.” Tears pool in my eyes.
“You saved me. I knew you would.” A tear slips down my cheek as he nuzzles against my neck, repeating, “You’re my angel.”
I hold him, thankful to have the opportunity. I hold him so tightly and cry, now knowing Rochelle will never have the chance to hold the man she loves again.
Our breathing evens as we wear down, exhaustion setting in. Just when I think we’re going to sleep, Dalton says, “Tommy found out the cigarettes Dex was smoking were laced. That’s how he was hiding it from us.”
“What?” I ask, surprised by the bombshell he just dropped.
“Yeah, he knew if he was caught using again he’d be out of the band. He’s been told several times and there he was getting high right to our faces. It’s like a fucking game with him.”
“Dex doesn’t need you to be the parent. Let Tommy do that. Rochelle, Neil, and the baby need you right now. Focus on them.”
He turns out the light and we lay there, silent. I let my mind roll over what he said and try to figure out if I’ve seen any signs of Dex’s problem. Thinking back to the night I picked Dalton up from Dex’s house, drugs were everywhere. He wasn’t hiding them that night, but I can’t say I saw him doing anything other than smoking pot. I also remember seeing him sitting on the couch smoking cigarettes.
Dalton’s words from the night I picked him up from Dex’s come back to me. “I bummed a few cigarettes at the reception.”
Rolling on my side to face him, I ask, “What kind of cigarettes did you smoke at the reception?”
His voice is deeper, bordering on sleep. “Huh?”
“The night of your ex’s wedding. You said you ‘bummed a few cigarettes’ from Dex.”
Tension fills the room as his body hardens. Dalton flies out of bed and out the door before replying. He’s banging on Dex’s door yelling one profanity after another.
Dex is wise not to open the door.
Tommy pulls Dalton back and they end up in a heap on the floor while Dalton yells, “He fucking drugged me and he knew it. He fucking knew and let me do it. Bastard!”
They both get to their feet, out of breath. Tommy asks, “What are you talking about?”
“The night at his house when I said I didn’t do drugs. It was Dex. He gave me his cigarettes at the end of the reception. I smoked when I was leaving Holliday’s.”
“Oh shit,” Tommy says, his hand in his hair, an expression of disbelief on his face.
“Oh shit is right. He’s fucking out of the band or I am.” Dalton turns, his gaze hitting mine. I step inside the bedroom cabin and move out of the way as he walks in and slams the door. He locks it as he tries to regulate his breath, his air still coming out harsh.
He kicks his shoes off and takes his jeans down, stepping out of them. After getting in bed, he says, “Let’s go to bed. I need this fucking nightmare to go away. Dreams, hopes, they all get destroyed in L.A. I expect it there. But I was blindsided in Paris.”
His back is to me as we lay in silence and I let him remain that way, feeling the distance he needs is justified. “Dare to dream,” I say, a mere whisper between us in the dark as I press my palm to his back. “For without dreams, we have nothing to look forward to.”
He repeats the quote, then asks, “Who said that?”
“I did. It’s a motto I live by, the reason I moved out to California and why I have my company today.”
“It’s good.”
I stand up to undress and he rolls over to watch. By the look in his eyes, I know we’ll have sex. I’m just wondering if he’s going to take his frustrations out or if he wants to make love.
Intimacy with an edge—he takes me two times and shows me both his gentle side that satisfies and the other that defines ecstasy.
Our breathing finally evens and in this tiny room that only fits a bed on a flight across the world, we try for sleep. Just when I’m drifting under, he touches my cheek, and says, “Don’t leave me, okay?”
Seeking him out in the dark, I place my hand over his heart, and whisper, “Okay.” Exhausted, we sleep the rest of the flight.