Ace's Fall (3 page)

Our clothes are stopping us from going
any further. I see the thought cross blondie’s mind before she
grabs the button to my jeans.

This girl isn’t fucking around, and I’m
not questioning her motives. I want to bury myself in her and
forget the outside world if only momentarily.

I suddenly realize that we have to go
back to the bus because I forgot something important.

“
Wait, we have to go back
to the bus. I don’t have a rubber on me.”

She smiles. “It’s okay, I’m on the
pill.”

This chick is crazy if she
thinks that’s going to make me feel any better. The last
thing I need
is a kid, especially with a fucking groupie. Or
worst yet,
an
STD.
I know the consequences of sex with
random chicks, and I make sure to wrap my shit up. I may sleep
around a lot, but I don’t want my junk catching
anything.

“
No, we’re going back to
the bus,” I say matter of
fact
. The smile drops from her
lips, and she looks mildly pissed off.

I don’t really care that she might be
mad; what I do care about is getting laid. So, I begin kissing my
way up her neck again and add in a few gentle bites. By now, I have
her right back in my web. Her legs are still wound around my waist.
I walk down one more aisle of buses before I spot the Spades
bus.

The security guard spots me
walking up with blondie wrapped around me and his eyes go wide
before he looks down and quickly opens the door. I make my way up
the four steps. As soon as we’re in, I know my surroundings by
heart. I take my lips off of her neck and bring them to her mouth.
I walk us in the direction of the room in the
back
.

At this point, we’re
going at
each other like animals in heat. I already have her shirt
pulled off by the time I get to the door to the room. I pay
absolutely no attention to our surroundings as we fall onto the bed
ripping at each other’s clothes.

That’s when I hear a sharp
intake of breath, and it’s not from
blondie
.

“
You fucking asshole,” a
shaky familiar voice says to me.

My head snaps up in Bree’s
direction. Her tears have already
begun
streaming down her face.
I jumped away from
blondie
and adjusted myself
before
walking toward Bree. The room isn’t very big, the mattress
takes up most of the room with little walking space around three of
its sides.

Bree is in the corner ready
to charge, and I’m blocking the door, slowly making my way to her
with my hands up in surrender. “Baby, it’s not like that. She…”
Shit, I don’t know her name. “
She
is just a little tension reliever, that’s
it.”

Bree lets out a screech and
grabs the closest thing to her,
which, unfortunately
for me,
is an empty coffee mug. The coffee cup whizzes by me and narrowly
misses my head.

“
What the
fuck,
Bree?!”

She charges me and points her finger at
my face. “I knew it from the beginning; you’re nothing but a piece
of shit. I should have listened to everyone, but I was the naïve
idiot who believed in you.”

“
I’ve been tellin’ you that
since the beginning. This,” I gesture my hand between us, “isn’t
going anywhere.”

Her hand suddenly cracks along the side
of my face. “Fuck. You.” She forcefully nudges me out of the way to
walk out. I let out a breath of frustration. I should probably feel
angrier in this situation, but I don’t. I feel relieved more than
anything else.

I watch Bree walk to the end of the
bus. “Good riddance, Gold Digger!” I wave with a friendly smile.
She sticks up her middle finger in return.

Well, that’s one problem I don’t have
to worry about anymore.

Blondie is laying on the
bed twirling her hair around her finger. When she notices me
looking at her, she
leans
up on her elbows, “So, are we
going to do this or what?” she asks as if she didn’t just witness
Bree go bat-shit crazy on me.

I shake the disbelief off my face and
replace it with a smirk. “Hell yeah, we are.”

s
tage
t
hree:

Substance Abuse/

Risky Behavior

i
finally made the move out of L.A., and I have to say, it was
definitely worth it. There’s always a party in Vegas. Alcohol,
drugs, and new
flings
happen daily. If I want
to,
I
can stop, but why would I want to? I’m young; I
should be acting wild while I can.

Although I have been partying it up,
I’ve also been writing new music. The band has a meeting with the
record label to discuss the new album, and I want to make sure
everything is prepared for them. I may be irresponsible in my
personal life, but I take my music seriously. It’s the one thing
I’d be lost without.

I hit another milestone when I moved to
Las Vegas—I am now officially a homeowner. Another thing to add to
my “Surreal Moments in Life” list. I tried not to go too overboard,
even though it’s still way too big for one person. But why not buy
it if I can afford it? The house is in a small gated community.
It’s a gorgeous four thousand square foot two-story with views of
the desert. There are palm trees surrounding the property, and I
have a huge pool in the backyard, which is a must for Las Vegas.
The summers here are brutal.

The band is scheduled to go into the
studio in a couple weeks, and after that, we’ll be going on a
nine-month world tour. We’ll be opening for Ignite; their music is
great, but according to some, Zee, the lead singer, is a douche.
There’s a lot of those in this business, including myself, so I’m
not too concerned.

I’m soaking up the downtime while I can
because I know once we start recording, my life is going to be in
the hands of the music execs and Bill, the band manager.

***

The meeting with the record
label was a disaster. When we signed, they told us they’d only make
our sound a little
crisper
and a lot less choppy. I agreed
with that change because we sounded like we were straight out of a
garage. Which, we were. I hadn’t expected the complete one-eighty
they threw at us.

I was nervous
about
the meeting as it was, but then they informed me that the
lyrics were already written out.

All. Of. Them.

I walked out—I couldn’t handle that. I
had signed to get my lyrics out there. To spread my inner
self.

The label just shit all over it. They
said they read what I sent them and didn’t think it was the right
message. It was angry music, but isn’t that what all of the
teenagers are these days? A bunch of angry kids looking for an
outlet. That’s what they want. But, according to the record label,
sex sells. They wanted music filled with lust and wanting, not
music filled with pain and emotion.

I didn’t handle that well. Why not
inform me of this before the meeting? It was complete bullshit. I
began to wonder if they were planning on trashing everything I had
given them and go with their songwriters.

I started doubting myself
and my musical abilities. Every single negative thought in my mind
was magnified. I let their criticism tear me down and fill myself
with hate. With the negative energy, my nightmares started again. I
hadn’t had one in years, even though I used to get them all the
time after my parents died. They seem a lot more intense than they
ever used to be. It starts off okay enough but then it morphs
into
horror
quickly…

I’m standing in the middle
of a dark road with nothing but fog around me. I’m in my Spider-man
pajamas I used to have as a kid. I stare down at my dimpled hands
and know that I’m right back to being the child I was when my
parents got in their accident.

“
Jason? Jason,
honey,
get
out of the road!” The voice sounds so familiar. I
know her
voice,
but it sounds different. Then it hits
me.

My mom.

It took me a moment to
realize it was her because the coldness is gone from her voice and
in its place is
warmth
I never got to experience. It’s
what I always craved but never received.

My eyes dart around,
looking for her. But there’s too much fog; I can barely see a foot
away in any direction.

“
Mommy?” my small voice
croaks. “Mommy, where are you?” I’m turning in circles hoping to
catch of glimpse of her.

Suddenly, on my right, a
silhouette appears. “Jason, you can’t stand there. It’s too
dangerous.”

My mom approaches from out
of the fog and is standing in front of me in her nightgown. The
stiffness I always remember her carrying is gone and in its place
is a gentle demeanor. She kneels down so that we are face to face.
A tear trails down her face, and a small smile appears on her
lips.

“
I missed you so much,
sweetheart. I thought I had lost you.” She wraps me in her arms and
starts humming a soft song that I can’t make out.

Up until this point, my
mind has been playing catch up. But I don’t waste another moment, I
hug her back with eagerness.

We sit like that for a
moment then she lets out a soft whimper. That soon grows into
scream of pain and fear. Her arms drop from my shoulders, but I’m
still gripping her in a hug, clinging to her.

She’s still in an upright
position but her head is limp and her chin is touching her chest.
Her breathing is labored. She lets out another screech while her
hands fly to her stomach. A gush of dark red seeps through her
dress.

“
Jason,” she cries, “you
have to go, honey. You have to get out of here or this will happen
to you, too.”

“
No! No, Mommy, I won’t
leave you,” I cry hysterically while clutching her.

Her body jerks upward so
that she’s
standing,
but her feet aren’t touching
the pavement.

“
You have to go, find
help!” she cries. The unseen force pulls her back and away from me,
but she’s fighting it as much as she can. I have a grip on
her
hand,
but both of our hands are slick
with
her blood.

Then the invisible force
yanks her
backward
again, but this time our hands
unclasp, and she’s pulled into the mist so quickly that I’m unsure
if what I saw just happened. The only thing left in her wake are
her screams of pain and the blood soaked ground.

“
Mommy!”

Then I wake up.

Every time, I wake up in a
cold sweat with labored breathing. And this last time I couldn’t
shake the feeling of loss from my chest. I walk to the kitchen and
grab the first bottle of alcohol I can get my hands on. In this
case, it is a top-shelf whiskey. I don’t bother with a shot glass
and drink it straight from the bottle. The alcohol doesn’t fill the
hole, rather just sets fire to it. Which is better than feeling
nothing at
all.

One time I was told that
dreams are always in black and white. I don’t recall seeing the
other colors in the
dream,
but I do know, without a shadow
of a doubt, that her blood was always in color. Every single time I
have that nightmare it comes out the same hauntingly bright
crimson, almost like it has a glow to it.

***

I bite the bullet and move
forward with the album. I swore I wouldn’t sell out like
that,
but it’s more than just my decision. The guys were all
reluctant,
too
, but we’re on an upward slope and
we really don’t want to slow down the momentum. Once we get to the
top,
we
can control more of the music decisions, but
until then, we are bound by contract to RockOn records and we have
to fulfill our contract. Unfortunately, our naivety has bit us in
the ass.

The whole time while
recording I’d always sneak in a few shots beforehand that way I
could actually get through it. I
say
“sneak” because if any of
the producers saw me doing so, they’d be pissed because alcohol
messes with your vocals. They wouldn’t even let me have creamer in
my coffee until after the session was done. Fuck that. In the
mornings, I started drinking my coffee at home and then I’d bring a
flask with me and keep it in my jacket pocket. They could change my
sound, but they weren’t going to start changing my drinking
habits.

We finished the album to
the record label’s standards. I felt like a washed-up whore
afterward
; I wanted to scrub the label’s songs from my mind. If I’m
feeling like this now,
I
can only imagine how touring will
feel. I’m going to have to sing those songs day in and day out for
months, probably even years.