Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (6 page)

“Man, you really gotta remember that one for karaoke night,” he applauded from the door, launching Mac into a frenzied scamper toward the stereo amid a toppled plume of socks and gym shorts. “Got any Freebird?”

“
Piss off!
” she scowled through blushing cheeks. “It’s still mullet rock, but that song is… well… it’s just different is all!”

“Different how?” he laughed. “I mean, it’s only one of the biggest songs that band ever put out, but hey… if you say it’s different—”

“It is different!” she defended. “That song is way more bluesy than their usual hick-shtick and you of all people, Lee Summerston, know how much I love blues!”

Lee threw her an eye roll. “Yeah… because The Allman Brothers Band knows absolutely
nothin’
about blues. I mean, that Duane Allman guy on guitar,” he scoffed. “What a hack!”

“Whatever,” she huffed, still blushing as she shoved him back out into the hall.

By the spring of Lee’s junior year, the group’s golden age was in full swing. That January, he and the other guys had moved into a rundown, 50s-era house just off campus. Quickly dubbed “The Bat Cave” for its dank, cinderblock walls and grungy interior, it soon became the hub for much of the group’s daily activities while also playing host to many of their most famous—and infamous—chapters of college lore. By day, they took care of their respective academic responsibilities while nights were generally spent combing through the streets of Tallahassee for any sort of culture they could find. From hole-in-the-wall restaurants to the obscure live music of the city’s underground rock scene, the five of them lived for experiencing new things. Ultimately though, most nights usually ended on familiar ground, either back at the Cave for a late-night game of
Call of Duty
or with “last call” at the Pourhouse.

Following graduation, as is often the case with college friendships, the group slowly began to disband as each of them ventured out into “the real world” to pursue their respective careers. For Hamish, that meant taking a job as a motorcycle mechanic in Daytona with the hopes of one day opening his own shop. For Link, who’d long since decided on a career in politics, graduation meant a move to Virginia for law school. Lee and Danny, meanwhile, elected to stay behind in Tallahassee; Lee for grad school at FSU, and Danny for the law enforcement academy.

Mac, on the other hand, took perhaps the biggest gamble of anyone with regard to her career. Having successfully completed her marketing degree and accumulated a number of contacts in the music industry during her time as an intern, she packed her bags and set out for the bright lights, glitz, and glamor of Los Angeles, California. Shortly before her departure, Lee had begun dating Karen, an attractive young psychology major from Boston whom he’d met through a common friend, much to the chagrin of Mac, who never liked her from the beginning. Maybe it was Karen’s clingy, control-freak nature or her inherent need to psychoanalyze every little detail of Lee’s life, but there was just something about her that grated on Mac’s nerves. On a related note, Karen’s status as an avid Red Sox fan didn’t score her any points, either.

While in the early going, the move west had seemed like a glamorous dream come true, five eye-opening years in the cutthroat California rock scene had gradually begun to change Mac’s perception of her life there. Most of her days were spent in a waitressing apron trying to make rent on an overpriced ghetto apartment. Her nights, meanwhile, were spent managing small-time acts in the castoff clubs of L.A. County—far from the limelight of The Whiskey or the Roxy Theatre.

It took a while, but over time Mac seriously began to question her decision to come to Los Angeles. She loved music—always had—but she simply had no patience for the politics of the business, or for that matter many of her female counterparts who, unlike her, had no problem sleeping their way to the top of the corporate ladder. She’d never doubted her abilities as an independent businesswoman or her eye for legitimate musical talent, but that wasn’t the problem. The fact was, in a world of stoned roadies, rockstar divas, and scumbag A&R guys who’d just as soon poach someone else’s clients as find their own, all the drive and zeal in the world didn’t guarantee success. In the end, L.A. was all about “the lucky break,” and those who didn’t get it were just spinning their wheels.

Still, the only alternative was to pack up and go home… back to the same old bar, the same old people, and the same old life that she’d spent her entire savings account and the bulk of her 20s trying to escape.

One night, following an extremely heated argument with one of her musicians in which a vodka bottle had been hurled at her head, Mac clocked out early and rushed home, teetering on the edge of insanity. Enraged and exhausted from not only the conflict but everything else in her miserable life, she collapsed down on the bed and slammed a pillow over her face, fighting as best she could to stave off both the sobs building in her chest and the complete mental breakdown that now seemed all but imminent. After a few moments and in desperate need of a friendly voice, she reached a trembling hand to her nightstand, picked up the phone, and dialed the one number that came almost instinctively to mind.

“Hello…” a groggy voice stammered.

“Damn it!” she blurted miserably, wiping her eyes and staring at the bedside alarm clock. “I’m so sorry, Lee. I forgot about the time difference. Please, go back to sleep, okay? Really, I’m so sorry.” Her words came like rapid fire over the phone.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” he said, now audibly awake and alert with the awareness that something was very wrong. “Ya know what? I needed to get an early start on today anyway, so this is actually good. What’s up?”

“No, no, it’s okay. Really,” she fumbled, her voice cracking under the stress as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry I woke you up, Lee. Please, go back to bed, okay? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“I know it’s not, Mac, so c’mon,” he pressed. “Talk to me, alright? Besides, it ain’t like I’ve never dragged you out of bed at all hours of the night, only in my case I was drunk and stupid, not mixed up and in trouble…”

She hiccupped a giggle.

“Now don’t make me hop a redeye out there and browbeat it outta you in person, because you know I will. Just try to calm down and talk to me, Mac. I’ve got nothin’ but time, and it’s all yours. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it. I promise.”

In the three and a half hours that followed, Mac proceeded to unload everything on him, starting with the fight at the club then chronicling each and every exhaustive element of her embattled life—from her constant dealings with obnoxious musicians, to her inability to escape the service industry, to the hypocrisy of the record business, and culminating with the complete and utter state of loneliness which she now found herself. Throughout the conversation, Lee was mostly silent—opting instead to listen patiently and let her get it all out, though occasionally reassuring her that he understood why she was so down and offering an uplifting compliment or a show of confidence in her where he could.

Once the call finally came to a close, and Mac had eluded sleep as long as she could, Lee hung up the phone and lamented the fact that he couldn’t be there for her in person. He’d known Mac long enough to know that by her very nature, she was a doer, and doers
hate
losing control. When faced with a problem, Mac would work herself into a virtual frenzy to fix it or drive herself nuts in the process. She couldn’t help it; it’s just who she was. Only in this case, no amount of hard work or dedication would bring her the answers she was looking for.

It also wasn’t lost on Lee just how much pride she’d swallowed to call him that night. Mac was always the first one in line to help someone in need but when the time came for her to be that person, it took a meltdown the size of a nuclear reactor to get her to speak up. Then again, it takes one to know one in the pride department and if his own set of demons at the time was any indication, he knew he couldn’t fault her much there.

In the end, he wasn’t sure if their talk had done any good. He only hoped that if Mac had taken anything away from their conversation it was that—no matter the circumstance or the hour—she could always “call home” when she needed, just like Greg Allman had said.

Much to Lee’s delight, that would be the first of many calls between the two over the next year; some angry vent sessions as the first had been, while others were more of the casual “What’s up?” variety. Still, regardless of the nature of the call or how busy he was when it came, it was just always nice to hear from her, and after a while it began to dawn on Lee just how true that was. Granted, the two had been close from the beginning, but their relationship had always been defined within the context of the group. However that was changing now and he, for one, was okay with that.

After several agonizing months of weighing the pros and cons of sticking it out in L.A. versus returning home, Mac finally managed to set aside her pride long enough to make three calls; one to her parents, alerting them to her decision; one to a children’s charity about her furniture and TV; then a third to a cabbie for a one-way trip to LAX airport.

Several hours later on the drive to the McKinsey house, Lee observed Mac’s quiet stare through the passenger-side window of his Jeep and tried his best to understand what she was thinking. It went without saying that the choice to leave L.A. had been a tough one for her, but he wondered if anyone (himself included) would ever truly understand the bitter taste of that decision. In coming home, Mac had effectively abandoned everything she’d spent her adult life working to build, and Lee couldn’t imagine the kind of emotional hell that had played on her psyche. It would take a while for her to come completely to grips with all of it, if she ever really did; but at least this way he could be there for her personally while she tried. He was grateful for that.

Then again, the ear-shattering shriek of joy that ripped through his skull upon her seeing Danny and Hamish outside the bar—waiting in surprise for a celebratory Happy Hour in honor of her return—reaffirmed his belief that, in time, she’d be alright. After all, some things were worth coming home to.

****

“So how’s it going down there in Margaritaville?” Mac asked. “You still babysitting all the world leaders of tomorrow?”

“Always you with the sarcasm,” Lee chuckled. “Just because you never had a prof as cool as me in college, that’s still no justification for jealousy.”

Mac snorted a laugh, nearly choking on the sip of soda she’d just taken. “Give it time,” she gasped, wiping her mouth. “My guess is that halfway through the semester, they’ll peg you for the same lovable, bumpkin-loser that all of your friends did years ago.”

“Your belief in me is inspirin’ Mac, really. Appreciate that,” he muttered, drawing another grin back at him through the webcam monitor.

“Hey BTW, how are the ribs?” she asked.

“Not bad,” Lee shrugged. “Still a little sore, but I’m already back out on the board.”

“Nice! Danny says you’re actually getting pretty decent on that thing.”

“I try,” he said, perusing through the file he’d just uploaded. “Hey speakin’ of Danny, how’s he really doin’ anyway? I mean, I talked to him earlier today, and he seemed like his usual machismo self. But even so, I could still tell he’s pretty stressed.”

Mac’s lips thinned. “No doubt,” she agreed. “Let’s face it; he’s been on the unemployment line for a while now and you of all people can appreciate what that does to a person.”

Lee nodded.

“I tell him he should pick up the phone and call his Dad for help, but—”

“That’ll never happen,” he interrupted. “Those two have been at odds for years—ever since Danny blew off the family shrink business to become, as his father put it, a lowly civil servant.” Lee shook his head in disgust. “It all came to a head when his Mom got sick, though.”

“ALS, wasn’t it?” Mac wondered.

“Yeah,” said Lee. “It was bad, too, Mac… particularly there at the end. Danny doesn’t talk about it much—for obvious reasons—but the way I understand it, she didn’t have a clue who he even was in those last few weeks; and even then the nurses said he still refused to leave. Doctor visits—second, third, and fourth opinions—clinical screw-ups… trips to the bathroom for god’s sake! He was there for everything.” Lee sat up straight and ruffled his hair. “Ya know, I ain’t above throwin’ the occasional jab at Danny for how he conducts his love life; that’s no secret. But I’m here to tell ya… that boy loved his Mom.”

“Where was his dad through all of this?” Mac asked, drawing a snort from Lee.

“Oh, the good Dr. Tucker was otherwise occupied at the time,” he said sardonically. “He was holed up in a condo on South Beach—a bottle in one hand and his 23-year-old psych patient in the other… drunk son of a bitch!”

Mac’s face oozed with revulsion, and Lee felt his fists clinch.

“Anyway,” he continued after cooling off. “Maggie’s passing pretty much sealed the deal between Danny and the Tucker family tree. To my knowledge, he hasn’t spoken to any of ‘em since the funeral, and that’s been almost five years now. Can’t say as I blame him, either.”

“Man, I can’t even imagine,” Mac murmured. “Being excommunicated from your own family like that… And there’s nobody on his Mom’s side of the family he can call?”

“Nobody’s left,” said Lee. “She was an only child, and her folks died of old age when Danny was just a toddler. He never even knew them.”

Mac stared in disbelief back through the webcam, and Lee thought he had a pretty good inkling what was going through her mind. In a lot of ways, Danny had always been like a brother to her too. Plus, given that she’d always been thick as thieves with her own family, it stood to reason that a story like Danny’s would hit her pretty hard.

“So,” Lee said, feeling the need for a shift in conversation. “How’s life up there in Athens as the big boss lady of your own shop?”

She frowned.

“That good, huh?”

“It has its moments,” Mac conceded. “I mean, it’s not like management is anything new to me. Even though Dad hasn’t officially retired from the business, he took a back seat years ago. So it’s not like I had to learn how to run a bar or anything.” Her head fell back as she billowed a sigh. “I dunno. Athens isn’t a bad town. Honestly, if I were 20 years old and looking to get outta town for college, this would probably be a pretty ideal place, what with the local music scene and all. But I’m hell and gone from 20, and I’ve already done the ‘away from home on a dream and a prayer’ thing—not that running a bar was ever my dream…”