Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) (16 page)

“I don’t mean to be nosey, but you just don’t look like the
Greyhound bus kind of guy. You lose your jet or something?”

He laughs. “Something like that.” Instantly I feel so much
better. I can feel the despair and the fatigue leave my body as the sound of
his laughter rings in my ears.

“You’re right. I usually do fly wherever I go, and in a
private jet. But I am a firm believer that one should never forget from whence
he came. So every year on this day, I take the bus trip that saved my life. I
get on the bus here and take it back to Oakland and use the time to reflect on
what has happened over the past year. It has always been time well spent. So
what’s your story June?”

“Wow, I wish I could say I was using this time to reflect
and become a better person, but I just wanna go home.”

“Well you don’t look like the typical passenger either.
There’s gotta be some story there.”

“What are you, a reporter or something?”

“How many reporters do you know who fly about in a private
jet?”

“That could have been a story you made up.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“No.”

“Okay, then let’s play a little game to pass the time. It’ll
be fun.”

“Fine, what sort of game do you propose?”

“I’ll start by saying something about myself is true and
something that is a lie. You have to guess which is which.”

“Okay...So If I guess right, what do I get?”

“This is just a way to get to know each other and to pass
the time. So here I go. I was raised in an orphanage. That’s the first
statement, and the other...I used to be married.”

“That’s easy, you were raised in an orphanage.”

“Wrong answer. I was married for three years before I
finally decided to stop lying about who I really am and come out of the
closet.”

“Oh. Okay, well...I killed a man once, and I was married
myself once upon a time.”

“That’s easy June.”

“Really? I’m that easy to read?”

“You’re that easy.”

“So which statement is true then, Walker?”

He doesn’t answer right away, then leans over and speaks
quietly in my ear so no one else can hear. “You killed a man once,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m wrong?” he asks.

“No you’re right, but how did you know?”

“I’m not just some brainless hunk, June.”

“Apparently not. Now aren’t you going to ask me why I...you
know...”

“No, that’s not part of the game. Now I’ll go. Since we’re
getting all dark and ominous here...I killed my own mother, and I have put my
father in a mental institution.”

“Heavy! Well, your skills are slipping then because this
one’s easy. You’re not a killer, I’d know it if you were. So, you put—”

“You’re wrong.”

“You killed...? Walker, why’d you do it?”

“Ah, you’re forgetting the number one rule in the game. You
don’t get to ask why.”

“Damn! Okay, my turn. I watched my little sister die and I
did nothing...and then I died.”

Finally the smile that he’s been wearing on his handsome
face ever since I sat down finally fades. “Now why’d you want me to know that,
June?”

“What’s your guess Walker?”

“Well you’re not dead...”

“Sorry, I kinda cheated. I actually died too.”

“What?”

“When I was seventeen and my sister was thirteen, I was
driving her to a school play she was in and I lost control of the car. I was
seriously injured and trapped in my seat. Sometime later, an off-duty paramedic
came upon the accident and started to work on her, but she never regained
consciousness. I sat there next to her and watched her die.”

“Wow...I am so sorry, June,”

“Me too. They say I died in the ER and was dead for five
minutes before I came back.”

“I always wanted to ask this. Did you have one of those out
of body experiences, or did you go down some long dark tunnel towards the
light?”

“Neither. I don’t remember anything between my sister dying
and waking up from a coma fifteen days later.”

“Since you have been so candid with me...My mother died
giving birth to me, so in a way you could say I killed her. I actually used to
feel guilty like I really did kill her on purpose, you know? But thirty years
and $20,000 of psychotherapy later and I have no guilt whatsoever.”

“Wow...”

“I didn’t mean to get so dark, and so fast here with the
game. It’s just that you...there’s something about you that just makes me trust
you. I don’t know why you’re here, why you didn’t have a ticket or a purse and
you look like you haven’t slept in a week, but I do know this. You’re a good
person. Whatever you may have done that led to you being here in this
condition, you’re still a good person, and I trust you.”

“You don’t know how badly I needed to hear that Walker.
Every day of my life I feel guilty about my little sister. I could have saved
her, you know?”

“I thought you said you were in a coma or something.”

“Before I passed out, I saw her. She was trapped in the seat
next to mine. She was bleeding badly from a gash in her forehead and she was
having a hard time breathing. I could have saved her. All I had to do was a jaw
thrust, chin lift maneuver and she would have been able to breathe normally.
But I didn’t do—”

“What’s a jaw lift chin whatever maneuver?”

“It’s a way you can open up a person’s airway without
compromising their C-spine. I’m a paramedic.”

“Weren’t you only seventeen or something when the accident
happened? You couldn’t have been a paramedic then right?”

“Well no, but...”

“You blame yourself for not doing a medical procedure on
your sister that you didn’t even know how to do, or even knew existed? And,
didn’t you say you were trapped in your seat and couldn’t get to your sister?”

“No, yeah. I didn’t know how...” I can’t continue. My voice
is caught in my throat. I reach up to rub my tired eyes and notice that my face
is wet with tears.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to upset you. It was a
stupid game.”

“It’s okay.”

“There was nothing you could have done, even if you had not
been trapped yourself and seriously injured. You did the best you could have
done, given your situation.”

I don’t know how long I’ve been crying, but it seems like a
long time. When my eyes finally run dry I feel light, like a huge weight has
been lifted from my shoulders. I wipe my eyes on my already wet sleeve and
venture a look up at my new best friend. He looks at me with compassionate
eyes.

“You look like you’ve just shed five years off your life,
June. How do you feel?”

“Better...”

“So, what brought you to that Greyhound station?”

“Yeah...You might want to rethink your whole, ‘June’s a good
person’ theory, until you’ve heard my whole story.”

“You can tell it, but I’m a pretty good judge of character.
I doubt you can change my mind, but do your worst.”

I end up spilling my guts about the whole obsession with the
band and why I’m a Lunatic. I tell him about Brand and Silas and, finally, what
I did to them both. He listens the whole time without interrupting, yawning, or
giving any sign that he’s getting bored or uninterested in what I’m saying.
He’s just a very good, attentive listener.

“Thank you,” he says when I finally run out of words. Then
he closes his eyes and appears to have fallen asleep. I’m just about to say
something when he beats me to the punch. “So what are your plans now?”

“To get home. To take a ridiculously long shower and a 12
hour nap. Why?”

“Just thinking. If you came upon a magic lamp and a genie
popped out and granted you some wishes, what would you wish for?”

“Oh wow. Don’t I wish I did have one. I’d wish that Silas
wasn’t fired from Fringe and that the band was back together and on their world
tour again. I’d wish I never helped Brand get the dirt on the band, and I’d
wish I never hacked his account and impersonated him. That’s what I’d wish
for.”

“Hmmm...Interesting that you ask for nothing for yourself.”

“Yeah, well. Before you go calling me mother Theresa, I
wasn’t finished wishing.”

He laughs and once more my usual dark mood lightens
dramatically. “Well June, I’m no genie, and I’ve got no lamp, but I just may be
able to help you out of your current situation.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I think I can. Your guitarist friend Silas, can he
really play the guitar? Do you know for certain he’s not faking? And what about
the rest of the band? Can they really play or are they pulling another stunt
like Shadowspawn?”

“Yes. Silas can play. Well, I think he can.”

“And Brand? What are you willing to do to set things right
regarding him?”

“Anything.”

“So you’d be willing to take the fall. You’d be willing to
make a statement about the information you gathered as being false, and that
knowing it was false still gave it to your friend to use for the contest? Would
you be willing to face and accept the consequences for your illegal actions
regarding accessing his email account and impersonating him?”

“I said anything, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. I just want to make sure you understand what
is at stake here before I get the ball rolling on this whole genie thing.”

“I don’t understand, how can you help me, and why would you
help me?”

“I’m a rock promoter. I can book any venue in the country
and in just about any in the UK as well. I’ll book the venue. You just get
Silas and the rest of the band on board. And don’t forget about Brand, you have
to get him there as well.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll tell him I’m going to the press to make a
statement about my actions.”

“And promise him exclusive interviews with the band
afterwards. If he writes the story, I’ll get it in Guitar Player and Rolling
Stone. Do you think that’ll get him there?”

“That should do it. Where are you thinking of making this
happen?”

“Well I have to do some checking around to see which venues
are available. I’m thinking this has to happen fairly quickly considering how
fast things are blowing up. And you certainly can’t do your part from jail
either, can you?”

“No...It’ll have to be done yesterday.”

Walker pulls out his cell phone and starts punching in
numbers. “Well I guess I’d better get started then, shouldn’t I?”

Chapter Twenty

The Con

A man walks into room 4335 on the fourth floor of Highland
Hospital and pulls up a chair next to Brand’s bed. “Dude, how’d you do it?”

A smile creeps across Brand’s face as he opens his eyes.
“Holy shit Hector, you’re back!”

“Yeah I’m back.” Hector Oh slouches down in his chair, props
his feet up on Brand’s bed and gives the other man a wolfish smile. “I’m back…”

“So how was it? What’re they really like? Are they as crazy
and out of control as everybody thinks? Come on man, spill your guts!”

Hector laughs, then closes his eyes as he recalls the last
six months of his life. “Yeah,” he begins, “They’re every bit as crazy.”

“You’re killin me. How was it?”

“Dude, Creeping Death makes Slipknot look like a bunch of
choir boys. They are the epitome of metal at its darkest, most primal form.
These guys may be well on their way to being the top metal act of the decade,
but their brains are gonna be so scrambled they won’t last much longer than
that, and I think they know it. There’s this sense of urgency, like they gotta
do it all now, today, before it’s too late. Everybody wants to be rich and
famous, but most bands accept that it takes time. Not Creeping Death. Not only
are they not creeping up on death, they’re leaping into it. This doesn’t leave
this room, alright? It’s gonna be in the magazine.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Hector closes his eyes again and starts talking. “We were in
Iowa, Slipknot territory. They’d just finished this marathon three hour show
and we’re all backstage partying in Creeping fashion. In other words, tons of
drugs, tons of chicks, and tons of insane antics as the band begins to blow off
steam and kick it into party mode which usually lasts well into the next morning.”

“Shit…”

“As you well know, these guys are into blood and knives and
any sharp objects they can find to draw a little blood. So Sebastian has got
this knife, and he’s flipping it up in the air and catching in on the handle
every time. Don’t know how he does it, given how much vodka, coke, and heroin
is in his system. So pretty soon the whole room is focused on this guy as he
throws the knife higher and higher. Each throw, the knife does more and
revolutions yet he still manages to avoid the razor sharp blade every
time...but one.”

Brand cringes. “Oh man, I think I can guess what happens
next.”

“The dude misses and the point ends up about an inch deep in
his right wrist. Good thing he’s not a guitar player.”

“No kidding. He could have bled to death.”

“Oh yeah, but he wasn’t through yet. He grabs their
drummer’s wrist, puts the edge of the knife to the inside of his left wrist and
asks, “Are we brothers?” Then he buries the tip into the dude’s skin. By the
time management stops them, Sebastian, Derrek, and bassist Craig are bleeding
like stuck pigs. It was like this spontaneous suicide pact. We nearly lost the
whole band right in the middle of a sold-out tour. As it was, the next ten
dates had to be cancelled because their drummer and bassist couldn’t play. That,
my friend, is why they’re on the fast track to not only fame, but death.”

Brand is suitably stunned. “Holy shit, that is
un-fucking-real!”

“Man, shit like that happens on every night of the tour.”

“So the stories about them keeping doctors and extra blood
for transfusions, that’s all real, and not just some publicity stunt?”

“Oh no, it’s all real man, scary real. Now you gotta tell me
what’s up with you. I heard from Frank over at the magazine, he said you were
making quite a splash there. Care to enlighten me? And how’d you get the girl
to turn on her favorite band? She’s a Lunatic right?”

“Oh man, it wasn’t easy,” Brand begins with a laugh.
“Actually...it was kinda easy.”

“So you faked this whole injured thing?”

“Oh no, that part is true. I really did get busted up. I
just played it up. I wasn’t really in a coma that long. I’m just a damned good
actor, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t fall for this girl then...”

“No way. Those Lunatics are nuts.”

“So is she really in trouble with the Feds for hacking your account
and impersonating you?”

“Yeah sorta...I get the idea it really is up to me. They got
so much more serious internet crimes going on that they’re not that gung-ho
about prosecuting this unless I really demonstrate injury and right now, her
actions have done nothing but help me.”

“Well you’re right about that. You know you’re gonna win
this thing, right?”

“What? Are we talking Get the Dirt, or you talking about
something else?”

“Oh no bro, I’m talking Get the Dirt! There’s even talk of
giving you further assignments beyond the one you get when you win the contest.
Not only do they like the information you came up with, but more importantly,
they love your edgy writing style. You’re in dude! You’re gonna be one of us!”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is finally happening! After
all those years of writing shit for two cents a word for the web I’m gonna
finally be in print.”

“And it’s not just any magazine Brand, its Guitar fucking
Player magazine!”

“This is un-fucking-real man. I owe you big time. I’m sure
you’ve been pulling some strings at the magazine.”

“Not really man. This is all you. They were already excited
about your work before I returned from the tour. I just kinda endorsed you. A
word of advice...maybe go easy on the girl. You don’t really want to fuel her
fire. The magazine doesn’t need her to start crying foul and the editors to
start thinking that the info in the article isn’t real. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I follow you.”

“In fact, if you ah...got any dirt on her that would help
keep her in line…”

Brand nods slowly. “You know my dad’s a cop right?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I had him check out June, the girl, when we first
met. Turns out she’s got a marijuana conviction that was conveniently buried so
she could get her paramedic’s license. If that little indiscretion just
happened to see the light of day, she’d lose her license to practice as a
paramedic. My prediction, she’ll do anything to keep her precious job at the
hospital.”

“You’re a devious man Brand, a fucking devious man.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to get ahead, that’s all, just like my
father taught me.”

“Good.” Hector removes his feet from Brand’s bed and gets up
out of the chair. “Congrats Brand, it’s really good to have you on board with
the magazine. This is gonna launch your career, just like it did mine.”

“Thanks man.”

Hector turns and walks out. “Later dude,” he calls back over
his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.

~~~

Finally the trip from hell is over. I finally walk through
my doorway and collapse onto my couch. Despite the long bus ride, I still
couldn’t sleep. This time it wasn’t despair that was keeping me awake, it was
excitement fueled by adrenaline. What a strange turn of events, me meeting the
one guy who can help me pull this off. If everything goes right, Silas gets his
job back, the band reforms, and I don’t have to go to jail—which means I get to
keep my career. I’m not even going to try to go to sleep. Even though I have to
work tonight, I’m going to have to put off sleep until after my shift. I have
too much planning to do. I have gotta come up with something that will convince
Stewart to listen to me, trust me, and do what I instruct him to do. It’s not
going to be an easy sell.

I crack open my laptop and see if I can draft an email that
will convince Stewart to answer my calls. The moment I get my computer booted
up, my cell phone starts ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi June.”

I just about fall over backwards. As unlikely as it is, I
know it’s Brand. There’s no mistaking his bedroom voice, even when he’s pissed.

“You calling to see if I got a lawyer yet?” I ask.

“No...I’m actually calling to tell you not to worry. You
won’t need one. I’m not going to press charges, and if I’ve not been harmed
through this misunderstanding, they’re not going to be very interested in
pursuing it, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m going to be forever in your debt for saving my
ass, and the minute something happens and you get a little irritated then all
bets are off, right?”

“You really have a low opinion of me, June. There’s no
ulterior motive here. I just don’t want you to have to pay for a mistake made
when you were trying to help someone...even if that someone wasn’t me.”

This is a strange turn of events. I wonder if now is the
time to talk to Brand about the plan? I’m just about to spill it when a thought
occurs to me. If I make a big show of Silas being able to play, and the band
not faking playing, that’s gonna hurt Brand’s credibility.  Here he sent a
contest-winning article to Guitar Player and let them pick his entry as the
winner when he knew full well that what he wrote was categorically wrong. No
one will ever hire him or read anything he writes. This call is Brand trying to
save a career that he loves.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, June. No one will
ever know that you tried to block the story or hacked my account. Your
paramedic career is safe with me. I’ll never tell.”

This doesn’t feel right. This whole phone call, his
benevolence...something’s not right here. Just a couple days ago he hated me
and was surely going to help the police bust my ass, and now he’s promising to
save me? Could it be that I misjudged Brand? Maybe he’s not the person I had
believed he was…No. He is who I believed he was. I remember the backstage pass
he gave me. He had legitimate offers for sex from hot women, yet he chose me
because he knew how much it meant to me to be able to talk to my idols. A bad
person does not do that.

“So you’re not going to say anything else to the magazine
right?” he asks. “Just let it be. You know, let things die down a bit?”

“Yeah sure, die down.” I can’t think of anything else to
say. I need him to come to the event, the story he’ll get will more than make
up for the Guitar Player snafu.