Once more I found myself in the rehearsal space with the rest of the band, alone, after Ron left us to “discuss this issue amongst yourselves.”
“Fucking déjà vu, man,” I said, glancing at the other members of my band. Somewhere, on the other end of the city, I was pretty sure that Fran was going through something similar.
“We should get this over with,” Alex said, shifting in his chair. “So, what’s the deal?”
“The deal is that Fran and I have been working on our own material for a while,” I said with a shrug. “While we were working on the EP, we stayed after hours and recorded some stuff.”
“And talked to Ron and the label about releasing it?” Nick looked skeptical.
“A little,” I said, finding a cigarette in my pack and bringing it up to my lips to light it. “It’s not like I want to break up the band or anything—but you guys know I’ve done my own thing on the side for years.”
“We’ve known that,” Alex agreed. He glanced at Mark and Dan, who I had to admit were looking less than thrilled. The label had offered me and Fran the chance to put out our own album—apart from the albums made by Molly Riot and Juniper Woolf—after the already-slated albums were done. “Personally, as long as you’re still committed to the band, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Alex said with a shrug.
“How can he be committed to the band when he’s doing side projects with his girlfriend?” Mark looked at me gloomily.
“You fill in for Mikey all the time,” Dan pointed out.
“This isn’t the same as that and you know it, Daniel,” Mark told Dan sharply. “He’s actually working on material and talking about putting an album out.”
“If you don’t want us to put it out, then we won’t,” I said with a shrug. “We really just did the recordings to do them.”
“So why did you even show them to the label anyway?” Nick raised an eyebrow at me. I took a drag on my cigarette and flicked the ash off the end.
“We thought if the label saw anything in it, it might be fun to do,” I told him. “I don’t want to quit the band, I don’t even really want a break from the band. I just wanted to do something different, so I did. Fucking sue me.”
“You’re sure that you’re going to be able to keep up with the extra commitments you’ve got going on?” I looked Nick dead in the eyes, and then looked at the other members of my band.
“I am having a really hard fucking time being philosophical about this,” I said as calmly as I could. “Alex hooks up with his damn sobriety coach from rehab and no one cares. Nick gets involved with the journalist who’s supposed to be blogging our tour—and starts a photography project with her—and no one the fuck cares. I get together with someone and suddenly everyone fucking doubts me?”
“It’s another musician, from another band,” Dan pointed out. “It’s different.”
“What’s different is that for once in my goddamn life I actually want to do the right thing with a girlfriend and all anybody here can say is that I’m betraying the fucking band.” I shook my head. “You guys were the ones who wanted me to play nice with her—I didn’t even want to do the fucking tour or the EP in the first place.”
“We didn’t mean fuck her brains out and form a side project,” Nick countered.
“Yeah, well, apparently, that’s where me playing nice with her led us, so either you guys decide to be okay with this, tell me what you want me to fucking do about it, or shut the fuck up.” I stubbed my cigarette out and blew the smoke out of my lungs. “Because personally I’m kind of done with making everything so goddamn complicated.”
“Jules is in love,” Alex said, grinning. I glanced at my other band mates; Mark was staring in shock, Dan looked like he’d just swallowed an entire hive of bees and was waiting for them to start stinging him, and Nick was smirking.
“Jules is in looooove,” Nick agreed. “Damn, son—about fucking time you found a girl who wouldn’t get tired of your shit.”
“Shut up,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not even what we’re talking about right now.”
“It kind of is,” Alex pointed out. “I mean, if you’re in love with her than the whole side project thing makes sense. You’re not just humoring a steady lay.”
“It doesn’t make a difference why I’m doing it!” I grabbed another cigarette and lit it; at the rate I was going I’d hack up a lung before midnight. I didn’t care. “Look. Either you’re all okay with me doing this project, or you’re not okay with it, and we figure something out. That’s all there is to this situation. My relationship with Fran doesn’t fucking come into it, okay?” I took a drag from the cigarette and sat back in my chair.
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Alex said, still looking amused. “All in favor with Jules doing what he wants as long as it doesn’t interfere with the band?” Alex raised his hand; Dan and Nick followed, and I raised mine—obviously. Mark left his hand down. “Opposed?” Mark kept his hand down still.
“Jesus fuck, Mark,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t get to fucking abstain this time.”
“Why not?” Mark half-scowled at me.
“Because if you’re against me doing this then you might as well be against it.”
“I want to know you’re not just using this as an excuse to try and put us behind you,” Mark told me, arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m not,” I said. “I love this band. I’ve been doing other music for as long as you’ve known me—when have I abandoned you guys when it counted?”
“So, we’re good?” Alex looked around the room. I looked at Mark for a little while longer in silence.
“We’re working on our album first, right? And the band still comes before—whatever it is you’re doing with Fran?” I nodded. Mark shrugged. “It’s whatever then. But if you start sneaking off…”
“I’m not going to,” I told him. “I haven’t tried to yet.”
“Then we’re good,” Mark said; he still looked doubtful, but I knew that he wouldn’t have agreed to it if he was really, truly skeptical of me keeping things separated.
We talked for a few more minutes, about the next album and rehearsal schedules, and then I left the rest of the band to drink a few beers and talk about me behind my back while I called Fran. She picked up after the second ring. “How’d your talk go?” I almost laughed as I stepped out into the afternoon sauna heat.
“Things are still stable,” I said. “They’re going to spend the next month making fun of me for actually being in love with someone.” Fran laughed.
“Are you now? That’s fascinating.” I rolled my eyes, sitting down on the curb outside of the rehearsal space.
“You know I am.”
“You’ve never told me that,” Fran said tartly. “Maybe that would have come in handy for my own conversation.”
“That I’m helplessly in love with you?” I laughed.
“Is your band worried that I’m going to lead you astray like some Yoko figure?” I nodded, even though I knew that she couldn’t see.
“Mark is,” I admitted. “I think probably Nick has his doubts, too. But it’s not like he has much room to talk. Alex is surprisingly cool with everything. Dan…” I shrugged. “Dan just wants to keep moving forward.”
“Sounds about the breakdown over here, too.” Fran paused for a moment. “You’re really sure you want to do this, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. “Are you getting cold feet?”
“In this climate? Impossible.” Fran’s voice rippled with amusement—but I heard doubt there, too. “I just want to make sure that you’re sure.”
“For the first fucking time in my life,” I said, smiling slightly. “I’m sure of everything. I want to stay in the band. I want to be with you. I can do both of those things. We’ll make it work.” It felt weird to say it out loud—to say it to Fran—but after we’d nearly let everything crash and burn, I’d made a kind of promise to myself that I wasn’t going to let things go the way that they had so many other times when I’d fucked everything up with a girl. I was going to make it work.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours? We’ve got a meeting with the label to talk about the recording schedule.” We had a standing date to meet for drinks once we were done with whatever we had going on for the day; from there we’d either go back to Fran’s place or mine.
“I’ll be waiting for you at Bardot with a drink,” I told her. “We’re going back to my place tonight. I want to show you something.”
“I’ll try to keep the suspense from killing me,” Fran said dryly. We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, closing my eyes for a moment before I started back towards the rehearsal space. I realized I was smiling to myself like an idiot and I didn’t even care. Next month’s Florida Scene Magazine headline: ‘Fran and Jules Turn Rivalry into Beautiful Music’, I thought. The press were going to have a field day with the fact that Fran and I were not just together—but actually working on a project.
“Fuck it,” I told myself. I didn’t care how much crow I was going to have to eat: Fran was the only woman I’d ever met who not only put up with my shit but immediately got what I wanted to do with my own music. A million assholes could call her Yoko and I’d punch each and every last one of them. Don’t let them call her your Yoko. Make them call her your Meg White. The image made me grin again; that was exactly how we’d play it for the press. I stepped back into the building, thinking that maybe if I sweet-talked Mark I could get him to design a logo for the new act. There were too many details to think about—but if anyone was the perfect fucking partner-in-crime for what I wanted to do, if anyone could support me without trying to force me away from the band I loved, I knew it was Fran.
And that was all that mattered.
THE END