“The bachelor party is a go!” Rick tossed his phone onto the couch on the far side of the recording area. We’d been at it for three hours now, all four of us, and it was perfect. “Booze, strippers, and food...we’re all set.”
The feel inside the room was like the day we finished our first album. Excitement palpable. Pride in our work. The desire to live inside these four walls and create our sound.
Fuck, it felt good to be here with them.
Too bad I had to bust their bubble.
“No.” Walking over to the mini fridge, I pulled open the door and grabbed a bottle of apple juice. Twisting the cap off, I stared him down. “Not happening, bros. Save it for when one of you get married.”
Three chugs, and I tossed the empty bottle at Rick’s head.
He ducked and flipped me off with a sour-puss look on his face “Why not?”
“Because I said so. That should be enough.”
“Come the fuck on,” Tex whined, his expression pathetic. He’d arrived this morning and came straight into the studio. To an outsider, he seemed fine: his natural, joking self, but we knew different.
In silence, he was fuming. A lit fire ready to explode.
“Slim’s been gone a week. Seven days, assholes...” I shook my head in the negative, waving a finger between the three of them “...I’m not spending the night looking at fake tits to please you nasty fuckers.”
“We aren’t—”
My glare cut Cris off. “You weren’t planning on taking me up to the hills and into a certain mansion? One that caters to a bit of everything?”
Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a short stop at the end of the night…a going away from a bunch of guys in the industry. Hour, tops, Chester. Your girl and mine...well, they scare me too much to risk anything longer.”
At that, I laughed. Pussy. “Answer is still no.”
“Poker tournament in Vegas?” Cris asked, grasping at straws to throw something together.
We’d be leaving in four days—I was surprising Slim in Miami with a mini getaway. Whisking her away and to our wedding.
Our start.
Her plane was set to take off late that evening; I’d be there by eleven in the morning with enough time to greet her with my cock and then ask that she pack a bag. Woman had no idea just how many chess pieces I’d moved in her name to get things done.
Her dream would be our reality.
“Saturday, and I’ll fly out from there,” I conceded, and they all smiled. “No chicks, no bullshit, just a game and dinner.”
“Done.” Tex extended a hand out for me to bump fists with. “Now get your ass back in that booth; we leave in less than twenty-four hours, and this shit has to be perfect.”
I flipped him off. “Welcome back, jackass.”
“Missed you too, ass face.”
“Get to work, or no one is heading to Vegas.” Chaz’s voice broke through the room’s speakers. “And I’m in...my ass needs to burn through some money at the tables. Just don’t tell your mom, Chester.”
“Why not?” Mom loved Vegas and trusted the fool.
“Cause I’ll be stuck carrying her purse while she gambles. Woman is a beast at the slots.” At that, we lost it. Laughed until we almost couldn’t breathe.
Conclusion: we were a bunch of pussies when it came to the women in our lives.
I Love You...
Still interested in renting my place? ~H. B.
I am. Send over the contract and I’ll have it signed. ~Chester
Ten hours.
That was all it took for the track to be laid out and the acoustic version for our wedding to be perfected. Another surprise. A gift for my girl.
“Hungry?” Tex asked from his perch on the couch. Rick and Cris had left to pack and prepare; we were the last ones in the studio waiting to hear the small changes Chaz had made to the single.
Our part was done. It’d go into the next album—probably released while in Europe, but as of now it had no title.
But it would come to me.
All I needed was my bride.
“I could eat.” My girl’s sweet kitty, but I’d never say that aloud. Would never disrespect Ari like that. “Chinese?”
“The usual? General’s?”
“Yeah.” Walking to the fridge, I pulled out a beer. Now that we were done, getting a bit tipsy wouldn’t hurt. Plus, I had the feeling that whatever was weighing heavily on his mind needed a bit of liquid courage to come out. His frustrations had Ashley’s name all over it. “Want one?”
“Fuck, yeah,” he drawled, accent coming out stronger than usual—something that happened when he was pissed or worried.
“Enough of this emo shit...not our style.” Walking over, I handed him the beer and pulled a stool over. “Talk to me, Tex. What did she do now?”
My phone beeped inside my pocket and I pulled it out, smiling when I read his response.
None needed. It’s yours as my gift. Let me know the specifics and I’ll have it taken care of. ~H.B.
“I don’t know what to do.” Not what I was expecting him to say, but it was a start.
“About?” Prying the cap with an opener, I tossed it to him before taking a sip. “Be a bit more specific here.”
I owe you big time. ~Chester
The location was now secure, and fuck me, it was perfect. Private. Not a single soul could come near this place without having air clearance to do so.
Just be happy. ~H.B.
On second thought...name an album after me? ~H.B.
Shaking my head, I put my phone down and looked at my friend. Really looked at him, and took notice of his haggard appearance. Not everyone was lucky enough to find the happiness I felt. I could only hope that Ashley would quit her stubborn shit and open her eyes before he walked away.
“I’m tired, Cheetos.” Opening his own beer, he set aside my opener. Leaned back against the couch and looked up toward the studio’s ceiling. “I’m just so motherfucking tired of trying to make that girl see her mistakes. Ashley is so stubborn. Prideful. It’s everyone’s fault but her own, and I don’t know if I can continue down this path.”
“Where is she now?” She’d sent me emails over the last month—text messages ranging from innocent to angry. They’ve all gone unanswered. No time for her bullshit.
“With her parents on a small trip out East to visit her cousins. One of them had a baby.”
“Carmen had twin girls.” Tex gave me a funny look, and I chuckled. “You seem to forget how long our families have known each other. I might not speak with Ashley, but the rest of the family does contact my mom from time to time.”
“If you were in my position, what would you do? If Slim were Ashley, how would you handle her crazy ass?” I couldn’t even fathom that stupidity. “Because, brother…I’m ten seconds away from saying fuck it all, and picking up something nice and tight to bury my troubles in.”
“And that would be wrong.” Even if it was Ashley we were talking about, and she deserved the same amount of pain she put everyone else through, he would be the one to suffer in the end.
“So I’m supposed to just let her keep walking all over me?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Then what?” he yelled out, hands thrown up in the air. The beer bottle that had been on his lap fell, shattered into a hundred pieces, yet neither one of us moved. “My heart says one thing, but my mind...that fucker wants to make her hurt. Fucking destroy her.”
“Love is blind and your heart belongs to whomever it chooses; we have no say, but the one thing you can control is your reactions. Give her some space, Tex. Make her miss you.”
“So what are you suggesting? That I cut all contact so some other fucker can pick her depressed ass up?” he hissed from between clenched teeth. While I understood him, and was being patient, he would not take this shit out on me.
“No.” Placing my bottle down, I stood up and put a bit of space between us. Tex watched me but didn’t say a word. Idiot knew that if it came to it, I wouldn’t think twice in throwing the first punch. “But I’d appreciate it if you tone the aggressiveness down a few fucking notches. I’m trying to help you here...not become your punching bag.”
His reply was a simple head nod. “Sorry.”
Taking a seat at the bench behind the piano, I stared him down. “You need to step back.” Tex went to open his mouth and reply, always ready to jump the gun, but I held a hand up. “Shut it and for once, listen to me.” Nothing. I got nothing in acknowledgement. “You’ve been crowding her. Always available, and that, she is taking for granted. It’s too easy—she could have you at her disposal at a moment’s notice, and she knows this. Quit being a pushover and let her come to you.”
Running an agitated hand down his face, he let out a rough sigh. “So just sit back and wait.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Explain.” I let the extra bite in his tone go for the moment. But I’d get my point across at a later date, and the glare I sent his way made my intentions known.
“Ashley is the type of person that believes she’s untouchable. Irreproachable. She’s spoiled, and I’ll admit to having a huge fault in that.” My fingers glided over the keys—I played the opening notes to our wedding march. “In her head, she has you by the figurative balls and will abuse that. Treat you like shit because she knows how you feel. All I am saying is take that away. Leave her without the security blanket named Tex and let her fend for herself for a while. Trust me; she will see the error in her thinking once she’s alone. With no one to cushion her final descent into rock bottom, her conscience will do the work for you. Beyond everything she’s done, Ashley is a scared and lost little girl. Not a bad person, just confused. Let her fall and crash...you’ll both thank me for it.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“All right, enough with the heavy shit.” Standing up, he stretched his neck and shoulders. “You’re getting married in a few days, and we need to get ready for Vegas. The chain to your balls awaits you in two days.”
Looking at the smashed beer bottle on the floor, I made a mental note to have someone come and clean it up. “Fuck, I miss her.”
“Your pussy is showing,” Tex deadpanned while we made our way to the door. It seemed that Chaz was gone or in his office. No matter, I’d get the copy of the final edited version before Sunday’s flight. “Slim’s made you soft, bro.”
There was no real malice behind his words, just a tinge of jealousy. He’d get there someday.
“Pot, me kettle.”
“Fuck you.” He threw a punch, his fist snapping against my shoulder. Asshole.
“You’re just not my type.”