Page 21 of Shame Me
“I guess not. It just feels early.” But the coffee I’d just poured in my mug would help.
I started walking toward the hallway and Braden said, “Would you sit with me for a minute?”
The tone of his voice made me pause—something sounded…not wrong, but definitely not right.
“Um…sure.” I felt a little sluggish—not exactly a hangover, but something close—and I hoped I had the emotionalwherewithal to be able to support him however he needed. As I sat at the table, I looked at him—really looked at him—but I couldn’t read a thing.
Was Zack okay? Had I missed something in my stupor the evening before?
When I looked at Braden, he seemed a little unsure…hesitant, so I nodded, hoping to jar something loose. Finally, he asked, “Is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“With you. Areyouokay?”
Why was he asking me that? “Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” But that was a lie. I didn’t know if he knew I was lying, but I did. In my heart of hearts, I knew I was getting sucked into a black hole where I was trying to drown out the ache in my soul. The band was doing great, but the woman inside me was dying. Zack didn’t care about me and if Once Upon a Riot didn’t make it, I’d have no career to speak of.
I was going downhill fast.
Braden tried to smile but it didn’t work—and I knew why. He was trying to give me the dignity of maintaining the lie even while he wanted to give me any support he could.
He really was the best one of the four of us.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just…know that I’m here if you ever need me. Or want to talk.”
He had seen right through me. “Thanks, Bray,” I said, reaching my hand across the table. “I appreciate that.”
When he took my hand, he squeezed it softly, as if hoping his promise would absorb into my skin. How had the rest of us deserved a kind soul like Braden, I wondered, not knowing that eventually I would hurt him far worse than anyone else.
Over the next month,I worked on getting my shit together. I stopped indulging in party drugs and drinking, and I even got my job back at the fast-food restaurant where I’d worked before the holidays. I got lucky, going in to talk to the manager on a day when three of his staff had just quit. He threatened me, though, telling me he wouldn’t put up with “any more shenanigans.”
Being sober, however, allowed me to see Zack in a whole new light. He, too, was doing exactly what I’d been allowing myself to do. He was partying a little too hard, having sex with any girl willing to part her legs, taking way too many illicit substances. Until sobering up, I hadn’t really noticed that Cy had taken over driving us home after every show.
But one day in September, Zack told us he’d finally socked away enough money from our shows that we could record a small demo—and we were going to party to celebrate.
The guys invited friends from their day jobs as well as a couple of other indie bands we’d met once or twice at venues. I didn’t really know many of them, mostly because I was ignored. I was the “girl” of the band and somehow didn’t seem as respectable as the guys. Even though it pissed me off, I planned to keep working hard, hoping my skills would eventually earn me some respect.
It was yet another reason to stop drowning in my sorrows.
I didn’t love the music as much as Zack did, but itwasmy life—and I needed to treat it that way.
On a night like tonight, though, when we were just having some fun, I planned to drink a little.
While we waited for people to arrive, Cy, Braden, and I played a little poker. I was getting better at it, but I still had along way to go. It made it harder when they threw in variations and I had to remember the new rules. Still, playing with the guys gave me an opportunity to learn how to bluff.
We were playing five-card draw when our first guest arrived.
It was Wes.
Why Zack kept inviting him was beyond me.
Actually, I knew why. It was because Wes had no qualms about taking Zack’s money and buying him whatever he wanted at the liquor store. Wes was also under the delusion that Zack would make him part of the band in some capacity or another when we got bigger.
An hour later, I was sipping on a screwdriver, and our apartment was packed with people. It was still early, but I imagined our neighbors would complain if the noise continued late into the night. There were even a few females in the mix, but most of them were girlfriends of guys who’d been invited. Three of us—Cy, Braden, and I—stayed seated at the kitchen table, dealing to additional players when they joined us.
That was when I realized I’d become a decent player. The guys knew me too well, and I couldn’t fool them to save my life—but people who didn’t know me and had often discounted me who were also starting to drink could be bluffed.
But there was no hiding my disappointment when I caught Zack cozying up to a woman with black hair and dark makeup, her large boobs on display, popping out of a too tight black tank top. I said, “Fold,” and tossed my cards face down on the table, standing up.
