Page 21 of Vespertine
Chapter Five
HISFATHER’S OLD WORK TRUCKrattled along Letterhead Pike, and they left thewindows down to cool the cab. That morning his dad had told him that the airconditioner had broken a while back, but he’d been too distracted with work toworry about it. He usually drove hisBMWand onlyused the truck for projects like this one. Nicky decided to have a look at theAClater. He’d learned a few things about electronics onthe road in the early days of Vespertine, fixing up broken amps and shittyPAsystems. Maybe it was just some faulty wiring.
“Your mother says I’m too old for projects now, but I’m onlysixty-five. My father was building boats with his own hands when he wasninety-five.”
“He died when he was eighty, Dad.”
“Well, maybe he was only seventy-five then.” Adrian winkedat him. “But either way, he was older than me.”
“But Grandpa did physical labor his whole life. You sit at adesk all day.”
Adrian gawped at him. “Are you calling your old man fat?”
“Out of shape.” Nicky glanced over at Adrian’s round belly.
“Speak for yourself.”
Nicky shrugged. It was true. He was weak, skinny, anddefinitely out of shape. Playing a show was a workout, but being a malnourishedjunkie overrode everything else. He hadn’t really tested himself yet, but hecould feel that he lacked strength and stamina. He couldn’t play a show rightnow to save his life. Before, he’d been super-powered by coke. Now he wasjust…human.
The scary thing was, he had no idea what a sober life lookedlike. He’d been lost down the rabbit hole of the music industry for so long.How did people just…live regular lives? How did they manage the day-in andday-out? How did they create and sustain relationships that were about morethan drugs and fucking? Nicky had no clue.
He had the band, at least. That was something. The band andmusic itself. Well, if he hadn’t completely cauterized the flow of it with allthe drug abuse.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Nicky smiled and rubbed a hand through his hair. In thesummer humidity his dark hair bounced with waves he’d inherited from someone,somewhere—maybe the bitch who’d put him in the dumpster, or maybe the spermdonor who’d knocked her up. He’d never know.
His dad waited patiently for his answer. In the past, Nickymight have lied, but he decided to try the “talking about your problems” thinghis addiction counselor had suggested. “I was thinking about my career. I got acall from Vespertine’s management this morning.”
“Your mother says they’re pressuring you to get back towork.” Adrian’s hands gripped the wheel harder.
“Yeah.” Birds twittered in the trees along the always-quietstreet, and the breeze from the bay poured through the open windows like a cooltouch over his hot neck and ghostly fingers in his hair. He shivered. “It’sonly going to get worse until we cave in and do what they want.”
His father glanced over. “I thought you said they were theones who insisted you guys get well in the first place.”
“Yeah. They want us sober enough to make a number-one album.But they want ushighenough that they can controlus.” Nicky swallowed and looked out the window at the trees flashing by and thesun glinting on the blue bay. “They give us the drugs, you know. We don’t evenhave to buy them. They just…hand them over, or get someone on the road to doit.”
Adrian frowned. “If I could turn back time, I’d have neverlet you go to L.A.”
If Nicky could turn back time…wow, what a curious thought.In all the years since Jazz left him, he’d done plenty of numbing out, plentyof blaming and casting recriminations, but he’d never asked himself what, ifgiven the chance,hemight have done differently.
He took a moment to consider it now. Of all the things he’dexperienced, all the places he’d been, the people he’d met and fucked and thedrugs he’d done, there wasn’t one he wouldn’t trade in for a different, betterlife. Nicky thought about the albums the band had made. There were only two hewas proud of. The rest were evidence.
“Not that we aren’t proud of you, Nicky. You’ve done somuch, written some beautiful songs, and your fans love you.” Adrian chuckled. “Theweird people who manage to find us now and again prove that.”
That was the first Nicky had heard of fans harassing hisparents. “What do you mean ‘weird people who find you’?”
Adrian shrugged like what he described next was a fairlycommon event for them. “Well, we had these teenage girls show up one dayclaiming they’d driven all the way from Memphis, Tennessee. They asked if theycould touch your pillow.”
“Christ.”
Adrian grinned. “Oh, use that curse word when you’re withyour mom. As a Jew, she can’t complain aboutit, canshe?” Adrian chuckled.
Nicky wasn’t going to be sidetracked. “So what happened?Tell me you called the police.”
“Well, no. Miriam went up to your old bedroom, brought downyour pillow and held it out the front door. They screamed and burst into tears.”Adrian laughed, his cheeks flushing with amusement above his beard line. “Theyran off with it. Lunatics. But they were awfully cute little girls. Probablyseventeen or eighteen, tops. I hope their mothers knew where they were.” Adrian’stone went pensive. “I’d have gone after them to make sure they were all right,but teenagers run damn fast and they had a car.” He laughed again.
“Mom shouldn’t do that, Dad. They’ll just come back for more.”
