Derrick

The band has been jamming all afternoon. We stopped for food and then started up on a few of the new songs. We’ve been playing them on the tour, but there have been a few kinks we’re still working out.

“Fucking hell, Derrick!” A drumstick flies by. When I look at Dex, he says, “If you fucking miss that lead-in one more time, I’m going to play my solo and then come fucking play your part right after.”

I call them kinks. They call them screw-ups. Whatever. It’s all the same. “I’m fixing it. Next time I’ll nail it.”

The other drumstick flies across the room and slams into the padded wall of the studio. He picks his stool up and raises it above his head. Right when he’s about to slam it to the floor, he stops, and turns his back to us. The stool is set down again and he walks through the room toward the door. “I’m getting a Coke.”

Johnny checks his watch, a watch that probably cost more than—well, that analogy doesn’t work since my first and second cars were pieces of shit. He looks up and says, “I have forty-five minutes until I need to get home, dressed, and ready to take my wife out on a date I’ve been promising to do during this tour break. I can’t be late. Holliday threatened me already.”

“Why do you even want to go out?” I ask. “Aren’t you just harassed the whole time?”

“I don’t need it, but every couple of months she likes to see if we can go out and do regular stuff like shop for watermelon water at Whole Foods or see a movie at Grauman’s and then walk around after seeing if my feet were as big as John Wayne’s. Other times it’s The Pier in Santa Monica or shopping at The Grove.” He sets his guitar down and grabs his phone from a chair next to him.

“Does it work?” I ask.

“No, it doesn’t work. It never works, but Holliday is determined to lead as normal a life as she can and she likes to think we can do that together. It’s supposed to keep us grounded.”

He’s the most grounded person I know in the band. He could legit walk away from all the fame, the band, and everything and be happy living out his life in Ojai Valley. I’ve heard the stories, read the shit published about him, but he’s changed. I think that’s what is happening to me.

Change.

It can’t be that fucking bad if Johnny Outlaw chose to do it. He’s my idol. Everything he went through, where he came from, the work he puts into the music—he’s a legend for a reason. “You once talked about a crisis you went through.”

He sits down and then leans back in the chair like he’s going to be there a while. “I spent half my twenties burning through life, fucking angry at everything, my dad, a girl named Patty O’Toole who dumped me in high school when I got injured. I was mad at the whole world and I was hell-bent on destroying myself.”

Slumping down into a chair, I pretend to tighten and tune my guitar while taking his story in. It’s familiar, hitting close to home. Very close. “So what changed?”

“Me. I met a woman.”

I don’t fail to notice the Patty chick was called a girl, his wife a woman. What if the woman is the same as the girl? I can’t say she dumped me for Reggie, but the hookup still surprises me. Tumultuous. That’s what she called their relationship. I’ve treaded carefully when it comes to the topic. My ego took more than a wallop over that bombshell, but I can tell it’s a sensitive subject for her. She has a kid she has to put first.

Johnny adds, “I met the right woman at the right time. I was over groupies and drugs. I wanted a clear mind and clear conscience. The only way to get where I needed to be was to take a step back. I wanted it to be about the music, the art, the fans, the rhyme, the rhythm. I was lonely though. It’s strange how you can be surrounded by twenty thousand people, but at night you still walk into an empty hotel room and nothing. Silence. It plays tricks on you.” He sits forward and rests his arms on his legs. “I was sitting at a bar in Vegas pretending to be someone I wasn’t. That’s when I met her. She knew exactly who she was and what she wanted.”

“What was that?”

Shrugging, he cocks a smile. “That night? A hotel security manager, but she got a rock star instead. It was a win-win situation for both of us.” He reaches over and cracks the lid off of a bottle of water and drinks. “You guys,” he says, looking between Kaz and me, “find who you want to be and fight for it. Everyone outside this room is looking to tear you down or replace you.”

Kaz says, “Dex and Tommy are outside this room.”

Johnny chuckles. “Like I said . . . Anyway.” After making his joke, he stands and blows out a big breath. “We’ve been there or gone through it, so if you are or are going to, we’re here. The five of us, no matter where we are in the world or in our lives, we’ve got your back.” Before he walks out the door, he says, “Go after the woman, Derrick. You’ll find out fast as fuck if she’s into you or not. If she is, you’re gonna score for the romance. If she’s not, eh, you’ll get your ass kicked to the curb, but we leave tomorrow anyway. There’s always a groupie waiting in every city ready to heal your broken heart.” They’re not there for my heart.

Before Johnny leaves, Kaz asks, “The burning question is, are your feet bigger or smaller than John Wayne’s?”

“Bigger, but I wouldn’t say otherwise.” He laughs and signals to Tommy in the other room with the producer.

Tommy gets up and makes his way in. Taking Johnny’s guitar and picking up Dex’s drumsticks, he looks at me, and says, “Buy ya a beer?”

“You got it. Kaz, you coming?”

“Yeah, but only for one.”

---

Kaz and Tommy are drunk.

Man, Kaz’s tolerance has gone downhill since we moved into our own places. He says he has Russian mafia ties if I ever need something taken care of. I’m not in a good mental state because I actually start considering this option in regard to Reggie. Tommy’s been whining about love for forty-five minutes and Kaz has his arm wrapped around him agreeing wholeheartedly about Tommy getting older and needing to settle down. Have some kids.

The last part drags me back into their inebriated bromance of self-help. That’s when it dawns on me. I whack Kaz in the chest. Oops. I didn’t mean to knock him off the stool. Reaching down, I give him a solid hand and pull his ass up. “What the fuck was that for?” he slurs.

“Accident. Sorry.” It was all him, but I’ll take the blame. His balance is as drunk as he is. “You told Tommy he should have kids.”

He stares at me blankly. So I say, “That he should settle down and have kids.”

Still nothing. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course,” he says, shrugging like this is common knowledge.

“What do you mean of course?”

“Don’t you? Isn’t that what living the dream really means?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Living the dream means we are literally living out our dreams. Playing to sold-out shows, millions of fans, traveling the world, making money doing what we love.”

“Sure, there’s that answer.” I can practically see the beer slosh in his eyes when he rolls them. “But like Outlaw said, what do we come home to? That’s up to us. When the tours stop and the records aren’t gold anymore, what do we have? I’ll tell you what we have. A warm bed with a hot woman. Family. Friends. People who love you because of who you are on the inside, not because we’re famous or slept with a bevy of princesses. No. We’ll have a home where they leave the light on for you.”

“Dude, I think you’re confusing your argument with a motel commercial.”

“Whatever. What were we talking about?”

“Lara and how you need to get home to her.”

“Yup. I do. I’ll see you chaps tomorrow.” He pats my back and grabs Tommy by the shirt. “Come on, Tommy. Your ass can sleep at mine.”

I look down at the beer in front of me. I don’t think I even finished a pint.

The guys are right. This is bullshit. The emotions and Jaymes are messing with my head. I’m a fucking rock star. I can have any girl I want.

While I wait for valet to pull my car around like the fucking LA pussy I’ve become, I drop the act. Being a rock star is awesome, better than any dream I ever had. But I don’t want just any girl. Nope. Now that I’ve spent time with Jaymes again, she’s the only woman I want.

I get in my car and use my not-so-secret weapon. The phone rings and before she can speak, I say, “Mom, I need a favor.”

---

The lights are still on inside, but it’s almost ten at night, so I knock lightly. The creak of the floor signals someone is looking through the peephole. One lock and then another. The door opens and Jaymes is there looking like an angel in her nightgown. It’s not sexy, but it’s cotton and a little see-through. She looks younger, almost like I remember, with her hair down and loose around her shoulders. The deep color a stark contrast to the nightgown. I’m starting to think she can’t look anything but stunning every time I see her.

“Hi.” She gazes up at me, and asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you before I left.”

“You leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

A pink tongue dips out and wets her bottom lip before it’s dragged under her top teeth. The war is waging. Her nightgown blowing in the gentle breeze signals her surrender. “I’m glad you came by.” The door is opened and I walk on in.

She closes the curtains, but then peeks out before tugging hard in the middle for privacy. When she turns around, she asks, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

That makes her smile for some reason. I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she gets the glass and fills it with ice and then water from a container in the fridge. “Thanks.”

Leaning against the other counter, her arms are crossed, but not hiding her chest or body from me. More just waiting to hear why I’m there. “So what really brings you by this late?”

“The other night. It was great. I wanted you to know how much it meant to me that you came over.”

“It’s sex, Derrick. You get it all the time,” she says, walking back to the living room.

“It wasn’t just sex for me. It was more. I think it was for you too, but you’re just stubborn enough to not give in when you see a good thing.”

Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch that I do, she scoffs. “You think I want to deny myself pleasure? Why would I do that?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I can tell how determined you are to deny yourself having me.”

“Oh God.” She stands. “There it is. Rebel and his infamous ego return. I’m so glad you felt the need to stop by and share this, but if you’ll excuse me, I have an early start tomorrow.”

I stand too. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“You keep acting like there’s nothing between us. There is. I know I can’t be the only one to feel it.”

Her sighs feel put on, like a show just for me, not something she truly feels when she looks into my eyes. It’s an act to resist what I can tell deep down she doesn’t want to. “If you’re feeling it, how long did you wait once you were gone last time to be with someone else?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“That bad, huh?” Her laugh is sardonic, and then she rolls her eyes, causing my blood to start to boil.

Fuck that. I’m not letting her sidetrack this conversation. “What you’re doing is a distraction of what’s happening between us and you know it.”

“I’m just a distraction, a temporary one at that.” There’s that sigh again.

“You’re not a distraction, you’re the main attraction. C’mon, baby, say it.”

I move to her end of the couch and sit down. Taking her by the hips I coax her to sit on my lap. When she does, it feels like a win. When she wraps her arm around my neck, it feels like a victory of epic proportions. But when she relaxes into me and says, “I feel it,” I feel like a fucking rock star.