Page 18 of Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself)
Heading up the hallway after Danny, he glimpsed a figure walking through the door to the bar and even without seeing him for years, knew who it was. “Andy,” he called as the door closed and then watched with disappointment as it stayed that way. He was thinking,Well, shit, maybe I was wrong—then the door moved, and his brother stuck his head back through the opening, a searching look on his face.
“Hey, man. Are you with the band?” Andy’s question took him by surprise. There was a casual curiosity, but no recognition. Andy seemed to have absolutely no idea it was him.
And that, my friends, is how little I count in the lives of those I love.
Fighting back tears, he tipped his chin to one side and slapped Andy’s shoulder as he moved past him. Footsteps paced him, and he kept his face averted, not wanting his brother to see the hurt rolling through him. Shocked, he listened to Andy’s next words, a request that bordered on him playing a game with Ben. “My little brother is a big fan. Is there any way I could get you to sign something for him?”
Ben came to a standstill and turned, automatically reaching for the autograph material offered, then he stopped and lifted his hand to pull off his sunglasses. Waiting for the joke to end, for Andy to give him a “gotcha,” instead, he saw a shocked disbelief.Fuck, he honestly didn’t know it was me.
Arms enveloped him, and a fist pounded his back as Andy held him tightly. “Baby brother, what the hell are you doing in Fort Wayne? Ben...Benny, oh man, it’s good to see you, shrimp. God, it’s good to see you. How long have you been here?” Words gushed from the man, and Ben grinned to hear his childhood nickname mixed into the flow.
Ben laughed, returning the embrace, finding himself near tears for a second time that night, this one due to joy. “Andy, I’ve missed you.” He pulled back, staring into his brother’s face, seeing age and a hardness he didn’t recognize, lines etched in the corners of his eyes and a set to his jaw which said you didn’t fuck with this man. Glancing down at the leather vest his brother wore, he saw something that startled him. Even Gypsy hadn’t said who the gang’s leader was. “You’re a fucking president, man? That’s hardcore.”Jesus, if I sold the stuff here, I’d be placing myself against my own brother.Shit.
Setting him apart with a little shake, in a serious voice Andy asked, “Does GeeMa know where you are?”
With shaking hands, he pushed his shades to the top of his head.Time to lie outta my ass.“Yeah, yeah. She’s the one who told me about you being in Fort Wayne, where to find you. I started looking for gigs out this way, and then heard about this place.” Andy wrapped his arms around Ben again, hugging him tightly at the affirmation he’d talked to their grandmother recently.Liar, liar, pants on fire.
At odds with himself, ready to both get away from the brother he hadn’t seen in years and stay close, Ben chose the path of least resistance, saying, “I gotta get to the stage, man. You gonna come watch us?”
Andy frowned at him, looking puzzled at his words. Lifting an eyebrow, he asked, “What the fuck you mean, ‘get to the stage’?”
Ben stared at him a minute, disbelieving.Annnnd, we’re right back to how little I count in the lives of those I love. “You really didn’t know, bro? Even after I talked to you on the phone, you never, like, Googled the band to listen to some of the music?”
Andy was slow to respond, holding his gaze for a long minute. Caution colored his voice when he did speak. “Know what? What don’t I know? What’s going on, Benny?”
Rather than assume Andy meant the insult, he decided to adopt a teaching tone. “Andy, Occupy Yourself is my band; we’re playing here at Marie’s for the next week.”I am so over this shit. He sighed. “Enough talking for now—I need to get to the stage.” He assumed a theatrical listening stance, exaggerating the fact he heard the crowd in the main room, the growing rumble of conversation music to his ears, a group that would welcome him with open arms.Unlike my own family. “Because the crowd is getting restless, and believe me when I say drunk, pissed-off people can get really ugly. We’ll talk after the show, Andy. Okay?”
Even in this, Andy had to correct him, letting him know his brother had moved farther from their family than ever before. “Slate…that’s what everyone calls me now—Slate, not Andy.”
“What the fuck ever, bro, just come listen.” Ben laughed, the sound rough and jangling in his own head, his anxiety ratcheting up a dozen notches.A fucking drink would smooth those edges. He shook the thought off, again trying to push down the need.
Striding to the stage, he was mollified to see Blake on the stool at his kit, scowling but clearly ready to go. Danny and Dmitri were in their spots, angling towards the front on the small stage. In his head, Benny ran through the show changes they’d put into place during sound check. This venue didn’t lend itself to some of the larger movements, so he would have to dial it back, be more controlled.
Mentally he reminded himself of the set list, unchanged for the past dozen shows. Tomorrow they’d have a different lineup, but this was the first time in weeks they’d booked into the same venue on back-to-back nights. Glancing down, he read Benita’s neatly written list taped to the stage near his microphone stand, and after checking with the guys, grabbed ahold of the stand and whirled in place, greeting the crowd with a shouted, “How the fuck are ya, Fort Wayne?”
Listening with half an ear to the screamed responses, he leaned over to pick up his water bottle. In his head, he saw Andy’s face again, questioning why anyone would want to listen to him sing.Fuck it. On the fly, he changed trajectories, grabbing the glass of unwatered whiskey Benita had set out for him during sound check. Already half empty, he drank down a slug, once more thinking of the stash in the van and how easy it would be to pry open one of the packages.Just a little bit, he thought, then slugged another drink of whiskey back instead.Only a taste. “I said, how thefuckyou doin’, FortWayne?” Louder than before, the roaring response came, and he grinned at Danny.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Dipping to a conversational tone, he said, “My first time here at Marie’s, but I’m looking forward to our time with you fine folks.” Shifting back to a roar, he leaned backwards, face lifted to the ceiling, microphone to his lips, shouting his question, “Are you ready for some rock and roll?” With that, they were off, and the first half of the set went by quickly, every man on the stage in sync and rolling, playing like they hadn’t done for a long time.Shoulda threatened to can Blake a long time ago, he thought, waiting for the next intro to play him in.
Looking down, he saw his whisky glass was empty, so he grabbed the still-full bottle of water, downing more than half of it in one go. Lifting the tail of his shirt to wipe his face, a gaggle of girls at the front of the stage glanced up, giggling and grinning, and he smiled back, pushing his rock star grin as he launched into the next song. There was one, a pretty Hispanic chick, who smiled at him and he held her gaze, singing to her as if they were alone in the greenroom. A private show. He watched as a dark blush crawled up her cheeks, but she kept the connection, her brown eyes bright as she sang along.Beautiful.
A scowling leather-clad guy came from behind and latched onto her arm. Benny stumbled into the next verse, watching as she followed the guy old enough to be her father to the back of the bar.Just my luck.
Lifting his gaze, he caught Benita’s attention across the crowd and raised his empty glass, waiting until he received a nod in response. Setting it down, he continued on with that song, then the next, and the next, earning two more glasses from Benita.At least, she loves me, he hazily thought as she was bringing him another drink. Anger filled him when Danny met her at the edge of the stage and sent her away with it. “The fuck?” Benny questioned Danny as he walked past, fingers working hard on the thick strings of his bass.
Danny leaned in, mouth close and yelling over the music he continued to play, “You’re drunk, asshole.”
“Fuck you,” Benny said, turning to face the audience again.Three more songs, he thought,and we’ll have a chat about his motherfuckin’ motherin’ techniques. Mouth to the microphone, he shouted, “What’s a man gotta do to get a drink in this place?” As he knew would happen, a dozen hands lifted half-full glasses of beer or liquor towards the stage. Grabbing the fullest container within reach, he slammed it back, four forced swallows later he was handing the empty glass back to the owner with a grin. “Thanks, man. Vodka’s my favorite. Wets my whistle. Y’all ready to go?”
The crowd roared and laughed, and Benny took a step backwards, that step turning into two before he caught himself. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” A bit more patter for the crowd and he turned to Blake, mouthing, “One more time.” With a nod, Blake counted them down, and they started their final songs of the evening.
That was the last thing Benny knew for a very, very long time.
***
Voices sounded far away but seemed to be appearing in the air right over his head, the sound waves of their words compressing unbearably against his skin. “He gonna die?” A different voice, softer, smooth and sleek where the other had been ruined with pain. Mountains of emotion in every word. “He’s stable for now, Mr. Jones, but things are still very uncertain at this point.” Clouds of agony swallowed him whole, white-hot electricity shooting through his body, fusing his bones into glass, grinding him into dust. Mists and wisps of him lifting on the swirling words surrounding him. “He’s seizing again.” Shouts. Blood in his mouth. Wrenching grunts that held an immense depth of misery, his chest rattled in a complex rhythm of sympathy.Catch the beat, man. Follow the sound. “Clear.” Urgent movements, jerking him this way and that, then a sudden and profound blessed silence, disconnecting from everything weighting him down. Soundless harmony. Words came to him, dropping into his mind like crystals falling from a ballroom chandelier.Look at me now. There’s nothing left to lose, only a leap away from forever, castaway. Ruby lips sang along with him, brown eyes sinking into him, forcing the verses rushing through his head to shift course as he made room for her.Look at us now. We’ve got everything in our arms, holding tight onto forever, masquerade.
