Chapter Nine
Just Call Me Crazy
Nash
“For the fifteenth time today, you’re off tempo! What the hell is up people?” Grant’s shout sounded like reverberated gibberish through the microphone, but we understood the tone. He was frustrated. Hell, he should be. Reentry after Christmas break had been a bitch. Tonight we were playing our New Year’s Eve show in Ohio. According to Blane, this and the New York shows were the moneymakers of the tour. By the way we were practicing Ohio was going to want their money back. Grant wasn’t directing his anger at anyone specific, but as usual, Chaz took it personally.
“My tempo is just fine, douche munch.” He pointed one of his sticks in my direction. “Why don’t you talk to Nash? He’s the reason we suck ass. He’s playing like shit.” Chaz was right. I was playing like shit, but I wasn’t the only one. His tempo was definitely off. I waved my middle finger at him, and he grabbed his crotch. Ever since we’d returned from break Chaz had been a giant cocksucker. He was always somewhat of a dick, but he’d become almost unbearable to be around.
“Let’s take it from the top, again!” Grant shouted. After three more rounds and several pep talks, we finally nailed the set.
On our way back to the dressing room, Chaz announced that he was writing a song.
“Awww, is it about Paula?” Grant teased.
Chaz’s head whipped around. “Who?” he growled.
“Your girlfriend, or did you two break up?” I replied.
“What are we, twelve? My personal life is none of your fucking business.”
Grant shot me a look as we watched Chaz walk away, and I shrugged. Who knew what was up with the guy? Chaz Jones was a total enigma.
Grant dropped back next to Evan and clapped him on the shoulder. “After tonight’s show, I think we should celebrate. What do you say? You boys interested?” He eyeballed me over Evan’s shoulder.
Over Christmas Grant and I had discussed offering Evan a permanent position with the band. He wasn’t as good on the keys as Luke, but he was definitely a skilled musician and an all-around good guy. More than that, he was an excellent fit for the band. His Zen attitude about life was polar opposite of Luke’s attack-first-ask-questions-later approach. As far as I was concerned Evan Walker was just what we needed.
“What about Mallory?” Evan asked.
“She’s in New York. That reminds me. Hey, Hank! Did Mallory call?” Hank was standing at the end of the hall talking to the interns.
“She said to tell you she landed, and to call her whenever you get the chance!” he responded.
As a Christmas surprise, Grant had flown Mallory to Lake Placid, New York to spend New Year’s with her parents. The cat was away, and now the mouse wanted to play. I wanted to resent him for what he had found with Mallory, but I couldn’t. He deserved to be happy. Hell, we all did, even ass-head Chaz.
“I’m definitely in,” Evan said. From the look on his face, he could use a drink. The polite thing would be to ask if he was okay. Too bad I wasn’t feeling polite. All I could think about was home, and Rowan’s lips, and the way she felt pressed against me.
“Do you think we should ask the interns? I kind of feel sorry for them,” Grant said.
“It was your idea to hire them,” Chaz replied from behind us, “and what are we asking them?”
“Grant wants to party tonight,” I told him. Chaz shot Grant a scathing look.
“Let me guess, the old ball and chain has flown the coop,” Chaz drawled. Grant got that I-want-to-punch-you-in-the-face look, and, even though Chaz could use a fist to the face, the band didn’t need any more drama right now.
“My wife filed for divorce over Christmas,” Evan announced out of the blue. Way to diffuse the situation, I thought. Evan winked at me, and I shot him a look of thanks. He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but it was a big deal. Luke’s death had left a giant hole in our lives. Slowly, inch by inch, Evan was closing the gap.
Grant sidled up next to him and gave him a sideways hug. “I’m sorry, man. That sucks.”
“Wait. I thought you were going home to reconcile?” Chaz asked. This was news to me. By the surprised look on Grant’s face, it was also news to him. Evidently Evan and Chaz had been talking, which was strange because no one really talked to Chaz. We put up with him.
“I was. We were. It’s complicated,” Evan replied.
“No one needs that up and down shit. Cut the bitch loose,” Chaz advised.
Grant looked like he was going to punch Chaz again, but before it got that far, I asked, “Why don’t you get Paula to come tonight?”
“Who?” Chaz asked.
“Your girlfriend,” we all three responded in unison.
“Whatever,” Chaz mumbled, and walked off.
“Is it just me or is he acting strange?” Evan asked.
“He is strange,” I responded.
We had two hours to go before we had to be on stage. While Evan and Chaz entertained the Melties in the dining area, I called home. Mom sounded tired, which worried me. When I asked Rowan about it, she admitted that Mom was slightly down, but attributed it to a change in her medication. Still, it made me worry. Rowan and I talked about everything but the giant elephant hanging over our heads. We both had feelings. Neither of us wanted to admit it. The distance fucking sucked. As usual, I hung up with mixed emotions and a hard dick. As I turned to go find Hank, I barely avoided running over intern Maggie.
“Damn, girl, announce yourself next time,” I ground out.
“Sorry,” she said with a wince. “I just wanted to thank you in person. I mean, I know I emailed you and all, but thanks to you, I really enjoyed my break.” She spoke the words so fast that it took me a moment to string them together and extract actual meaning from them.
“I’m glad you had a good time. Have you by chance seen Hank?”
“Oh, uh, he’s in the lunch room.”
“Thanks.” As I started for the door I remembered my earlier conversation with Grant and Evan. Grant was right, we should invite the interns. I turned to ask, but paused when I saw the hurt look on her face. She looked like a lost puppy, and I felt like an asshole. “I’m really glad you had a good break. Do you have plans tonight?” Her eyes bugged in her head. The girl really needed to get a grip.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“And the other interns. We’re planning on partying somewhere. You can join us if you’d like.”
“Oh my gosh,” she gushed.
Before she did something really crazy, like cry, I made a run for it. I found Hank in the hallway talking to Marcel. When I caught up with them I asked if we had any free time coming up. After consulting his calendar, he told me two weekends from now was free.
When he asked why, I slapped him on the back, and answered, “Because I’m going home.”
“Time to get ‘er done!” Grant called from the dressing room. Cheers erupted from everywhere, and fans started pouring into the hallway.
“You’d better check with Blane,” Hank warned. “He might have something planned.” Fuck Blane. With or without his permission, I was going home.
Because it was New Year’s Eve, Blane had doubled the number of people he normally allowed backstage. The crowd tonight was drunk and pumped, a dodgy combination. Ever since Grant’s vomitus stage dive, we’d adhered to the no heavy alcohol before the show rule. A beer or two was fine, but that was about it. Tonight was no exception. We could party later, but in the meantime, we had a show to put on. Once security was in place, we started down the hallway to the stage. Onlookers jostled for autographs and fist bumps. Tits were on full display. The crowd was definitely in rare form tonight, and I loved it. The lights flared as we reached the stage, and our audience went ballistic. Excitement flowed from the stands. The energy pouring from the crowd was tangible, electric, a fucking adrenaline dump of epic proportions. I was living the dream. We all were.
* * *
Five hours later…
“I really think we should write a song together, you know, like we used to back when Luke was alive,” Chaz slurred.
“We’ve never written a song together,” Grant pointed out.
“My point exactly,” Chaz countered. “We need to.”
The show had gone better than expected, with no major mishaps. We’d finally managed to stay on tempo throughout the entire performance for once. Instead of partying in the VIP lounge, we decided to rent out a local bar called Spanky’s for the night.
“What would be the name of your song?” intern Angie asked. She was velcroed to Chaz’s side and starting to annoy the hell out of me. I searched for Paula and found her sucking face with some dude across the room. What the fuck? Did Paula and Chaz break up, or was she cheating on him again? Maybe that’s why he’d been such a dick lately. Well, if she thought that she was making him jealous, she could think again. Chaz hadn’t given her a second look the entire night. The guy couldn’t even remember her damn name.
“I would name it Ramble On,” Chaz announced.
“Isn’t that a Led Zeppelin song?” a guy at the bar next to us asked.
Chaz scowled in the direction of the comment. “There can be two songs with the same title,” he stated in a very disgusted tone.
“I’m pretty sure there can’t,” the same guy argued. Grant and I shot him a dirty look. Chaz was a belligerent drunk. When he’d first joined the band, he would get hammered every Saturday night and pick fights with anyone who disagreed with him. We’d learned that the only way to pacify him was to agree with whatever spewed from his mouth. An inebriated Chaz knew how to take stupid to a whole new level, and tonight he was on a roll.
“Fuck Led Zeppelin. My Ramble On will be so epic that no one will ever want to listen to theirs again.”
The guy looked over at us, and asked, “Is he for real?”
“Why don’t you ask me to my face?” Chaz snarled.
“Is that Gwen Stefani?” Evan asked.
“Where?” Chaz’s eyes darted excitedly around the room.
“Over by the bathrooms.” Before another word was spoken, Chaz was off of his bar stool and barreling toward the bathroom. Grant and I stared open mouthed at Evan, and he laughed.
“You’re the fucking Chaz whisperer.” Grant statement only made Evan laugh harder.
When Chaz returned, the guy was gone and we were discussing recording after the tour.
“No Gwen?” Grant asked as Chaz slid back onto his bar stool. Chaz shot Evan a dirty look, and Evan responded with a nonchalant shrug. I left Chaz bitching about how Gwen managed to evade him once again, and headed for the bathroom to take a piss. When I returned I noticed that intern Maggie and Steve were there.
Maggie’s eyes lit up. Right as I reached the group, she grabbed my elbow and jerked me up next to her. “You get to stand next to me.” I glanced down to make sure she was okay.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Maggie has never been drunk before,” Steve announced with a snicker of amusement.
“I love alcohol!” Maggie cheered as she flung her arms out and nearly toppled Chaz from his bar stool.
“Settle down, plebeian,” Chaz growled.
“Did you just call me a commoner?” Maggie slurred. Uh oh.
“Would you rather I call you a peon?” Chaz challenged. I tried not to wince. The guy really was a dick.
“I’ll have you know that I’m a woman with rights.” She slapped her chest and nearly fell over from the force of it. Evan reached out to steady her, and she latched onto my arm. He winked at me, and I flipped him off.
Chaz opened his mouth to argue, and Evan asked, “So, have they found your stalker yet, Nash?”
“Oooooh, you have a stalker?” Angie exclaimed. “Do tell.” I shot Evan a what-the-hell look, and he shrugged.
“Leaving roses on a person’s pillow is hardly stalking,” Chaz huffed.
“Oh, phooey! I thought about leaving daisies,” Maggie slurred, “but when I looked them up, it said that daisies represent innocence and purity.” She lifted her eyes to mine, and smiled. “I wanted a power flower, one whose meaning transcends all space and time, to express how I feel.”
“It’s the final frontier,” Chaz announced. Grant and Evan both laughed. I, however, did not.
“You left the roses on my bed? Why?” I quietly asked her.
“I really like you, and you always look so lonely. I thought it would make you feel better.” Holy shit. It wasn’t Nadine. The ramifications of this started to sink in.
“Were you by chance at my house over Christmas break?” I asked her. I knew it was a reach, but at least it would explain the rose on Mom’s pillow.
“Uh, no, dummy. I was in New York. I have soooooo many pictures. Want to come back to my hotel room and see?” Her toothy grin made me slightly uneasy. This chick was a total Jekyll and Hyde. Wallflower when sober, total slutsicle when drunk. I’d learned my lesson with Nadine. I had no desire to go there again. While Maggie rambled on about her New York experience, I scrambled to make sense of it all. Was Nadine back in the picture or was Maggie a damn good liar? Eventually she petered out, and, after announcing that she needed a drink, she scooted over to the bar.
Grant stepped up beside me and handed me a beer. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” He nodded his head toward Maggie. We watched her pound shots with Chaz, while Angie and two Meltie’s vied for his attention.
“I have no fucking clue, but Blane needs to find Nadine, and fast.”
“You ain’t kidding.” We stood there for who knew how long, lost in our thoughts, until Grant finally broke the silence. “I’m tired and Evan looks bummed. Let’s get this over with, so I can get some sleep. Evan! Chaz! Get your asses over here!” he shouted. Evan and Chaz appeared at the same time as our waitress who was carrying a tray full of shots. We each snagged a shot from the tray. Grant held his glass up, and said, “I write songs, but I fucking hate making toasts.” At his nod, we all three turned to face Evan. As if sensing that something big was about to happen, the music stopped and the noise dropped to a quiet lull. “Fuck,” Grant hissed. Chaz cackled maniacally and I gave Grant a nod of encouragement. “Evan Walker, please say you’ll marry me,” Grant teased.
“Why, I thought you’d never ask,” Evan responded in a perfect falsetto. The bar broke into howls of laughter.
When it quieted back down, Grant continued. “All joking aside, we dig you. You add substance to the band and make Chaz easier to be around. We can think of no one we’d rather have here with us, than you.”
“Fuck you,” Chaz growled.
Grant continued, “If you’ll have us, we’d like to bring you on as a permanent member.” Evan’s eyes got shiny, and I found myself starting to get emotional. I could tell by his glassy eyed expression that Grant felt the same way. We were replacing Luke, not in spirit, but by action. It was a bitter sweet moment.
“Well?” Chaz huffed.
Evan’s face split into a huge smile. “Fuck yes,” he finally answered. As we downed our shots, the room broke into screams and cheers. Evan Walker had officially become Meltdown’s newest member.
After another round of shots, we were ready to head back to the hotel. We’d barely made it out the door, when I felt Grant stiffen beside me.
“What?” I asked. He nodded his head toward the side of the bar, where Paula was busy playing tonsil hockey with some dude.
“Is that-?” Evan started to say, but Grant cut him off with an elbow to the ribs. Chaz slapped me on the shoulder as he and the interns passed by us. We all three froze until he was almost to the bus, and then collectively relaxed.
“That was a close call,” Grant mumbled under his breath.
At the bus doors, we heard intern Maggie say, “Hey, Chaz, isn’t that your girlfriend?” She pointed to the wall where Paula was now actively dry humping the dude’s leg.
“Shit,” Grant said as Chaz zeroed in on the couple. A disgusted look appeared on Chaz’s face as he shook his head in what looked like disappointment. Without so much as a word, he turned and walked up the bus steps. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy.
“That’s fucked up,” Evan announced. Grant cut his eyes at me, and I shrugged. I hated to break it to Evan, but nothing about Chaz Jones was normal, least of all his love life.