Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) (9 page)

“Well I don’t know about
these guys,” Gabby begins, “but I was pretty sure a minute ago that I had just
lost my best friend.”

Slowly I look around me.
We’re definitely back stage but where are the people? “Where’s everybody
Gabbs?”

“Stewart threw them all out.
You know, since we don’t know who did this to you we didn’t want to risk
inviting back the people who beat on you.”

I look around till I make eye
contact with the band’s manager. “Thanks Stew!”

“It’s my fault really. I
should never have given you that extra pass. I should have known it would cause
trouble. I’m so so very sorry June.”

“We’re all sorry June.”

My heart skips a beat.
There’s that dreamy voice that belongs to Silas. Despite my condition my body
begins to react. Goose bumps travel up and down my arms and I can feel a
tingling up and down my spine and my head feels light and airy. How am I
supposed to interview the guy when my body keeps behaving this way? Maybe if I
could separate my head from the rest of me I would be able to concentrate...

They’re all talking about my
attack and how they can’t believe a Lunatic would ever behave like this. They
obviously don’t know anything about their fans. What do they expect; this is a
metal concert, not a Taylor Swift show. People are gonna be crazy!

“And nothing is broken as far
as I can tell, but you should probably go get yourself checked out anyway.” Tim
the paramedic is talking again. With an effort I drag my attention away from Silas
and focus on Tim.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m
actually a paramedic at Highland Hospital. I work in the ER there so when I go
back to work Wednesday I’ll get myself checked out if I still feel like shit.”

“Oh you’re going to feel like
shit alright,” Tim says. “You took quite a beating. You’re going to feel worse
tomorrow. In fact you’re probably going to be in some pain for four or five
days or more. If for no other reason, you should probably get a prescription
for the pain you’re going to feel over the next two or three days.”

“Great, just great.”

Stewart comes over and hands
me three passes. They look different that the other ones I’ve seen. One thing I
notice right away, they’re not dated.

“I understand you and your
friends are planning on taking on several more shows coming up so we wanted you
to have these passes. No more waiting in line for you guys. With these passes
you can get in to any show after 5pm and these will get you backstage as well.
Just show up before the doors open and well get you in and you can watch from
the friends and family area, that way you don’t have to deal with any enemies
we helped you make tonight.”

“Wow…I-I don’t know w-what to
say…” I’m getting all chocked up.

“We want you to be able to
finish the story your friend was writing so any help you need, it’s yours. But
for now, someone should take you home so you can get some rest.”

“I’ll take her home,” Gabby
chimes in. “We can pick up her car at the next show.”

I can’t say I wasn’t happy to
be going home. I just don’t feel like I have the guts to try to interview Silas
tonight. And I’m feeling extra guilty about what I’m going to write about. But
who’s more important here? A metal band who soon I’ll probably never see again
or my boyfriend Brand? Brand of course…I think…

Chapter Eight

A Chance Meeting

It’s almost midnight when I
stumble into the Triple Rock Brewery in Berkeley. It’s a micro-brewery known
for its very unique brand of homegrown brews. I'm in desperate need of
something to take the edge off the last 12 hours in the ER.

I just got off a shift at the
hospital and need to unwind a bit before crashing. Plus, what I have just seen,
I really have no desire to take to bed with me. That, I think has been the key
to my survival, my ability to leave the trauma of the ER where it belongs - and
not take it home.

Most of my colleagues are
more like Gabby and take work home with them. Too often after a nightmarish
shift like tonight, she’ll come in the next day after having been awake all
night reliving the previous 12 hours. If she doesn’t figure out another way to
process all the crap that comes our way, she’ll be looking for a psychiatrist
and another profession before too much longer. She’s strong, but nobody’s that
strong.

The shift began with me doing
CPR on a 9 month old baby suspected of falling victim to SIDS (Sudden Infant
Death Syndrome). Sadly there really is nothing we can do at that point. The
ambulance pulled up at nine this morning and a firefighter and a paramedic were
tag teaming the child (taking turns performing CPR).

Gabby and I took over for
another thirty minutes before Doctor Rhana called it. We knew it was an
exercise in futility but we had to do it for the parents. They had to know that
we did, and they did, everything possible for their child. Long after the
grieving parents were gone, none of us could shake the pall that had fallen
over the ER, and it lasted the entire shift.

For the next ten hours it was
all we could do to keep up with the shitstorm of broken and ruined lives that
paraded into our department. When I finally trudged out to change out of my
bloodied scrubs the entire place looked like it had been in a war.

As I walked down the hall
towards the nurse’s lounge I couldn’t help but see the faces of the other
doctors, EMT’s, and nurses, the thousand yard stare frozen on their faces. I’m
pretty sure I’m a mirror image of those painful expressions, scars of the
battles we lost today.

I’m alone with my thoughts
tonight because Gabby for some reason had decided to pull a double and is still
in the trenches as I sip my brew.

“Wow, that’s one hell of a
look you’ve got plastered on your face June. Is it even safe to sit next to
you, or should I keep an empty stool between us…you know, just in case?”

I don’t need to look up from
my drink to know who it is standing at my left elbow. No other voice in this
world has the ability to send my body and nerves into overdrive just by virtue
of opening his mouth to speak.

A chill runs up and down my
spine and my heart begins to hammer away at my ribs. This really is not a good
time for this. I do not feel up to fighting my body’s reaction to Silas’s
presence. I need to relax not get all worked up.

“Really?” He says, after a
moment. “Did I really deserve that look you gave me just now? I’m not the enemy
here June.”

Oh, but you are
, I almost say out loud.

“Sorry Silas, rough day at
the office.” I say instead.

“The office? I thought you
were some kind of nurse or something like that.”

“Just an expression Silas,
just an expression.”

“So you are a nurse then?”

“Paramedic actually.”

“So…you had a tough day at
the hospital then?”

“It was a hellish one
actually.”

He pulls up a stool next to
mine, forgetting about his remark about keeping a stool’s distance between us.
As I feel the hairs on my arm standing attention I find myself wishing he
wasn’t in such close proximity. I take a long pull on my beer like I’m trying
to wash him away; or at least the effects of him. That’s what I really cannot
handle, how he makes my body respond.

“Would you like to talk about
it?” He asks. “Or are you planning on just drinking it away?”

For an answer I take another
long drink.

“By the look on your face
June, I don’t think this place has enough alcohol in it to wash away whatever
it is you’ve seen tonight.”

“Yeah…Sure would be nice if I
could just un-see some things. It’d make my life a whole lot easier.”

“What are you trying to un-see
tonight?”

He’s not going to shut up is
he? I’m not one to try to relive the day and I really don’t intend on doing
that now. On the other hand, maybe if I give him just a snippet, he’ll be
satisfied that he has helped me in some way, and he’ll just leave.

~~~

At least that’s what I had
intended to do, but when I’m still talking an hour later I realize he got his
way after all.

I don’t know what it was that
triggered my current case of diarrhea of the mouth, but I just can’t seem to
shut up. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me with those compassionate emerald
eyes, or the soft cadence of his voice as he commiserates with me the anguish
of the lives we lost today, beginning with that baby whose name will forever be
burned into my brain; Seamus. He wasn’t on this earth very long but I suspect the
memory of him is going to be around for a lot longer.

I’m so lost in the tragedy of
the day that I don’t realize it at first when his hand takes mine. When it
finally registers, my voice falters and I completely lose my train of thought.

He pretends he doesn’t
notice, and waits for me to continue. When I finally look up from my grieving
heart I notice the long line of empty glasses in front of me, and his single
beer, untouched. I also realize for the first time tonight that my head is
buzzing along pleasantly.

His stool protests noisily as
he scoots it closer to mine; our shoulders are touching now. He’s got a short
sleeved tee shirt on despite the chill in the air tonight, and I can feel the
heat of his body through the sweater I have on.

My earlier need to spew forth
the day's traumas have receded and I find myself babbling on about my
profession and how short-lived most people’s careers are, when I realize my
body has sorta tucked itself into his now.

I’m half off my stool and
partially sitting on his. His muscular thighs are straddling mine and I can
feel his powerful shoulders curve around mine. My left hand remains in his, and
his right hand is stroking my right arm; my hand still clutches a fresh,
untouched beer.

Now that I am sufficiently
distracted from my long soliloquy, my body has come alive. I feel like I’m a
hundred fifteen pound mass of nerves all singing the praises of Silas. I feel
all warm and gushy inside, safe, secure, and…cared for. That’s not the right
word for it, but I can’t think of anything else.

Actually that’s a lie. The
first word that popped into my head, before cared, was love. Surely he can’t
love me! He doesn’t know me. Well, after my two hour soul's confession, he
probably knows me better than my own family does. But not love. It’s probably
that I really have no idea what love is, or what it even feels like so I must
confuse care for love. That’s it.

“You stopped talking.”

He sounds surprised.
“Yeah…guess I kinda ran out of steam.”

Now that I’m acutely aware of
him and all the intimate places that his body is touching mine, I don’t think I
can string together more than a dozen words. I feel captive to him, and at the
same time, it feels safe. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Then he kisses me. Well, sort
of. I can feel his lips on the back of my neck, and his warm breath is
spreading down my neck, across my shoulders and making its way over my breasts.
I feel my nipples stiffen in response. It’s like my entire body is being
blanketed with his breath and it’s the warmest, safest, and most erotic thing I
have ever felt.

Suddenly I have to move. I
feel like if I stay here, tucked into his body for one more second I’m gonna
either explode or jump his bones. I just can’t sit here and do nothing; not the
way he’s making me feel.

Then Brand pops into my mind!
Here I am, in a bar cozying up to the enemy while my real boyfriend lies in a
coma in the very hospital where I work. What the hell is wrong with me?

I jump up, smacking my head
underneath his chin. I can actually hear his teeth clacking together. He goes
stumbling backwards, and for a minute I think he’s going to remain on his feet.
At least I think that up until the moment he doesn’t and he’s flat on his back
with a look of complete shock registering on his handsome face.

I know I should help him up.
Or at least say something. Instead I just look at him for a moment, then drop a
handful of cash on the bar and run for the exit.

As the door is closing behind
me I cannot help but look back one time. He is still flat on his back, rubbing
his chin and looking at me dumbfounded.

What a night.

Chapter Nine

Revelations

I have always thought of
myself as a good person. I believe my parents brought me up right. They
instilled in me values that I have always held fast to. Up until now that is.

I'm learning something about
myself over these last few days. They say every man/woman has his/her price and
it would appear mine has not been set very high.

Tomorrow night I’m going to
interview the band, well, Silas and Stewart mostly, so I can find the dirt on
their new guitarist. All for my new boyfriend who is still lying in a medically
induced coma, recovering from a brutal attack while on assignment in Oakland.

It kills me that the band and
their manager are so nice. They are actually good people. But I have to think
about Brand. I have no future with Silas or Fringe. I'm also beginning to
realize maybe I’m not really a Lunatic. Maybe I’m just a girl who likes metal
and they’re my favorite band at the moment; nothing more.

When I think of my fellow
Lunatics, there’s not one I can think of that would even dream of selling out
the band, not for love or money...They are the true Lunatics.

Gabby, she's a Lunatic
through and through. I’m not sure she knows what I’m really up to and it’s
getting hard to be around her knowing what I am about to do. We’ve been friends
a long time though and I have to hope our friendship will survive this little
hiccup.

I just completed a night
shift at the hospital and I’m heading down to San Diego for three shows and then
over to Los Angeles for four more, and then I'm throwing in the towel. Gabby
will continue to follow them but I’m going to go back to work and watch over
Brand. If all goes well they’ll be taking him off the respirator and bringing
him out of the coma in as little as two weeks.

I want to be there for that.
He needs someone at his side as he apparently has no family around. So far that
I know of, only a couple friends have showed up to see him, but no family.

It’s about an 8 hour drive to
San Diego and it’s giving me way too much time in my head. I really should have
just ridden with Gabby and then flown back. It’s not like it would have cost me
much for the hour plane ride. Hindsight.

Now not only am I bored to
death, I’m getting really tired. I’m approaching the grapevine, a long mountain
pass that is a long assent on this side followed by a steep short decent on the
other side of the mountains. Many a car has overheated going up, and many a
truck has lost its brakes going down the steep 5000ft decent. After that, if I
don’t find a Starbucks I’m gonna be in serious trouble.

The long drive doesn’t help
my injuries either. I ended up getting checked out at my hospital and as it
turns out, I have two bruised ribs! So much for the spirit of community that we
Lunatics are supposed to share. I have no idea who was responsible for the
attacks and neither does Gabby. It was still pretty dark and there were a lot
of people around.

Gabby said it looked like
there were four or five people but she couldn’t be sure. What she was sure of
is that nobody rushed to my aid. I would have been seriously hurt if it had not
been for the band’s security. They finally stepped in and rescued me and
brought me backstage where they called in the paramedics assigned to the venue.

~~~

I get to our hotel first and
check in at 6:30pm. I am so tired I just flop on the bed and crash. Two hours
later my phone wakes me up. It’s Gabby.

“What’s up Gabbs?”

“Not much. Whatcha doing”

“Nothing, I was so tired I
crashed out until you just woke me up. I desperately needed that nap. What are
you doing? You must be close by now, right?”

“I actually took a nap too.”

“Couldn’t find that Starbucks
huh?”

“Oh I found it, alright. I
just got tired of pounding on your door so I took a nap.”

“What?” I jump up off the bed
and make a mad charge for the door. I open it and Gabby is sitting there on her
bags looking none too happy.

“Why didn’t you tell the
manager to just let you in?”

“I did, but he said he wasn’t
about to let a stranger into a girls room, especially when she's alone.”

“He could have called me at
least,” I say. There is a phone in the room and I’m pretty sure it works.”

“Yeah he tried that. A dozen
times. Man when you conk out, you conk out. Now are you gonna let me come in or
not?”

“Oh yeah, let me help you
with your bags.”

Ten minutes later we’re both
crashed out on our beds. I feel like I can sleep all the way until the concert
tomorrow evening. We spend the next hour talking about the upcoming show, about
if my attackers are going to be there or not, and about Brand of course.

She thinks he’s going to make
a full recovery. I’m not so sure. He looks really bad. It’s been almost a week
since the attack and he looks worse than the day he came in to the hospital. At
least it seems like that to me, even though I haven't been to see him in a
while.

"When's the last time
you visited him?" Gabby asks.

"Hmm dunno, guess it's
been a few days." I manage.

Since I just don’t feel like
talking about why I’m too paranoid to visit Brand I end up giving some pretty
thin excuses and I’m pretty sure she’s not buying it, even though she doesn’t
say anything. After a while we just get talked out, and when Gabby starts
snoring mid-sentence I give up and decide to roll over and go to sleep too.

I guess we were both pretty
tired, because we don't wake up until almost ten the next morning. Good thing
we have the all access passes. No point getting up at the ass crack of dawn to
go to Fringe shows anymore.

~~~

We arrive around 5pm, and
thirty minutes later we’re hanging around the concourse checking out all the
cool merchandise for sale. We get word that the doors are going to open at 6:45,
so at 6:30 we find a spot in the front towards the right, so we can watch
Silas.

Gabby and I look around
nervously as the rest of our fellow Lunatics start filling up the general
admission section. Pretty soon I’m seeing hostile looks in every face I see and
I don’t know if I’m just imagining it or if there’s a lot of people pissed off
at me. Lunatics do talk way too much, and gossip spreads fast.

By the time the lights go out
I am totally exhausted and thoroughly paranoid from my hyper vigilance and I’m
pretty sure Gabby’s feeling the same. It’s really too bad because with these
passes we should be having the time of our lives but instead we’re stressed
out.

Something weird is going on
with the band tonight. After the first few riffs of
Straight Jacket
the
spot light that was trained on Silas goes dark and doesn’t return for the
entire song. Now I’m no electrician or lighting expert but I’m pretty sure some
other light could have taken over the,
shine on Silas,
duties. And as if
that isn’t weird enough, during
Bound
, right when Silas is going to
break into this killer instrumental part, his amp just up and cuts out!

He doesn’t totally lose it,
but it cuts in and out so much that it makes his guitar solo sound like he
doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. If I didn’t know better I’d say someone’s
trying to sabotage him. Pretty much during the entire show the spot light just
can’t find Silas, and his amp proves to be totally unreliable, even after they
work on it.

Finally during the fourth
song, Silas up and leaves the stage. He just throws his guitar on the stage and
stomps off. Then an anonymous guy walks out on the stage, plugs in his guitar,
and finishes the show in Sam’s spot. And of course the spotlight works just
fine now.

Something is really wrong
tonight. I’m not sure why I’m so concerned. Feuds like this happen all the time
in metal bands; it goes with the territory. Most end up fighting it out
backstage after the show and everybody’s fine. They just did a pretty major diss
on Silas tonight and I’m not so sure this one’s going to blow over so easily. I
can’t wait to get back stage and find out what’s going on.

As we’re about to go find the
backstage entrance, one of the security guys that stands between the crowd and
the stage hails me and Gabby.

“You June?” He asks.

“Yeah…” I reply a bit
startled.

“I was given your picture and
orders to find you and your friend by the time the show was over. I’m to escort
you two backstage. We don’t want a repeat performance of what happened in San
Jose.”

I am completely bowled over!
This is like, red carpet treatment, if there ever was a red carpet at a metal
show. I also feel incredibly guilty. I’m like a wolf in sheep's clothing. If
tonight is any indication of things with Silas, it would seem that someone must
have found some dirt on him. I’m guessing this all has something to do with
Hammer and Marcus. I wouldn’t put anything that happened tonight past those
two.

Gabby and I follow the guard
to the lounge backstage. The guard opens the door and to my surprise, it looks
like a normal backstage party. I really expected to see some kind of heated
argument between Silas and Hammer. Then I realize why everyone’s so calm. Silas
isn’t even here; at least for now. Hammer, Marcus, and Lance are there as well
as Silas’s replacement, whoever he is. I guess Silas must have decided to go
somewhere else and cool off.

I decide to approach Hammer
and Marcus and get their take on what happened tonight.

“Hey uh Marcus, I’m-”

“I know who you are doll."
Marcus says. "What’d you think of the show?”

“You mean other than those
weird lighting and amp problems, how did I like the show?” I say.

“What problems?" Hammer
cuts in. "I wasn’t aware of any problems. Marcus, you see any problems
tonight?”

“You mean other than Silas’s
amateurish guitar playing?” Marcus asks. When Hammer nods, he continues. “No,
everything went off without a hitch.”

“Really? Cause it looks like
Silas just quit. Or you forced him out-”

 “No one’s forcing anybody to
do anything,” remarks Marcus. “Good thing my buddy from Bloodstone was here to
jump in and finish the show. That coulda been embarrassing.”

These guys are infuriating!
They won’t even admit something went wrong tonight. “Hey, I’m no idiot. I know
you guys were messing with Silas tonight.”

“Messing? How could we have
been messing with him? We were on stage doing our parts. Did you see us doing
anything? I shake my head. “Yeah, I thought not.”

“You could've instructed your
sound and lights guys to screw with Silas. All you had to do was to give the
word and it was done.”

“What the hell do you care
anyway?” Marcus asks.

“Look, I’m finishing that
story for my friend Brand who’s in the hospital so I want to know what is going
on. I’m kinda doing a documentary about Fringe’s rise to the top so I need to
know what’s really going on around here.”

“How do I know you’re not
going to write a bunch of crap to make us look bad?” Lance asks, as he joins
the conversation.

“Because I need you guys to
like sign off on it so the magazine will know that I didn’t just make up bunch
of stuff just to get published.” It’s a lie, but I had to do something to get
the real story. Besides, for all I know, that may be their policy.

“Alright. We’ll tell you
what’s going on. Obviously you’re a smart girl or you wouldn’t have noticed it
so we might as well tell you so our story is accurate.”

I pull out my phone to record
the conversation. “Okay if I tape this?” I’m taking a big chance here, but
there’s no way I’m going to remember half of this stuff. This isn’t my
profession so I’m likely to forget a lot.

After a little debate they
finally allow me to record. I hit the record button and the dirt just comes
spilling out.

Hammer starts first. “Look,
Silas wasn’t our number one pick when it came to finding a new guitarist-”

“Why not, he seems very
capable.” I cut in.

“Oh he’s a good guitarist and
all, it's just that he doesn’t really fit with the band’s image. He’s too clean
cut, refined I guess. Now Myles, he is the quintessential metal guitarist. He’d
get hammered on stage and just throw himself into the mosh pit; back when
arenas allowed them that is. Now you just get a bunch of pansy-ass fans who
call themselves Lunatics and if you ask me, they’re not lunatic enough. At
least not for a metal band’s fan base.”

“No way! We’re a great fan
base and we’re hardcore.” Gabby steps in.

“Really?" Marcus asks. "Ever
seen Hatebreed?”

“No.” She admits.

“Shadows Fall?”

“Nope.” Gabby and I both say
in unison.

“Machinehead, Slipnot,
Mushroomhead, Suicide, Love Kill?” Hammer asks.

“Nope, nope, no, nah, and not
yet.” I say.

“Ever been in a mosh pit?”