Rhythm in Blue (24 page)

For the rhythm bed, all they needed was drums, bass, and for this song, keyboards. Randy manned the soundboard with Jay, making sure to point out anything that anyone did wrong and anything he thought sounded off. Once it was complete, they could add lead guitar, vocals, and anything else to make the song whole.

When they made it through, Rick jerked the guitar strap over his head, set the instrument down, and headed for the bathroom. No one said anything as he left the room, but Jay gave him a nod as he passed to signify that he’d gotten the track down. As soon as the door closed behind him, he pulled the vial of cocaine from his pocket and snorted three times in each nostril. He took a deep breath as he screwed the lid back on and returned the container to his pocket. Slowly his irritation began to mellow, but he didn’t leave the room right away. He didn’t care if the others suspected what he was doing, they all had their own demons, Rick knew, but they no longer shared them openly.

A knock at the door finally made him give up his brief seclusion. Keith waited on the other side as Rick opened the door. They passed without a word.

Back in the studio, Devon and Jay reviewed the track. Rick found the deepest chair, and fell into it wishing he’d taken a few more hits per side. He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and allowed his mind to wander. His first stop was the impending Grammy Awards – only a few days away. As a group they decided not to attend and Rick was relieved. The thought of a close-up shot of him and the guys on televisions across the country as he learned they didn’t win filled him with terror. Keith and Devon thought it would ruin the group’s hard-earned mystique if they had to make some kind of acceptance speech, or worse, talk about how the winner deserved to win to some slimy reporter. For years they continued to remain somewhat of an enigma to the public, without resorting to heavy make-up like some other bands, and they wanted to keep it that way. Much of it was due to the fact that none of them ever gave interviews or cozied up to the press. Even Randy kept his ego in check when it came to the media.

The next stop his mind made was to wonder what Shelby thought of the song. Did she feel it was worthy of such praise? Did she like the song? He wondered if maybe she knew it was about her. Part of him hoped that she did, but another part didn’t, afraid that it would anger her.
It doesn’t matter what I do, it would all make her angry.
He rubbed a finger along the scar on his cheek – something to remember her by.

From there, his thoughts inevitably landed where they always did, with visions of Shelby dancing, Shelby dancing with him, Shelby emerging from the sea, the goose bumps that invaded her body as he tried to put his necklace around her neck, Shelby’s touch on his skin, the feel of her lips on his. He sat up quickly, trying to shake the feeling before it reached a familiar level of melancholy. That he couldn’t handle without the pills.

He was startled to find Devon sitting across from him. The music had stopped and the room was quiet, but Rick hadn’t noticed he was so lost in his thoughts. “What?” Rick asked, as Devon stared him down.

“Nothing, just wondering if you’re okay is all.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rick asked, annoyed, but indifferent to the fact that Devon would easily pick that up from his tone.

“Don’t know. You just seem a little off today. Never really seen you so bitchy,” he said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. “Do you wanna go get something to eat?”

“No, I’m just gonna head home…be bitchy on my own,” Rick said.

“Hey now, I didn’t mean anything. Just trying to help is all.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired, and it’s really been a long day. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

“Okay, okay. Well call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Devon stood and turned to leave, but then looked back. “Julia wants to know if you guys are coming over to watch the show. Everybody’s gonna be there. The more fingers and toes we can cross, the better.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry. Tell her no, Tammy and I are going out to celebrate that night,” Rick said.

“Bring her over! You know we’re all dying to meet her.”

“Next time, I promise. She made some pretty big plans for us, and there’s no way I’m telling her no.”

“Yeah? What are you guys doing?”

“I don’t know yet. I guess it’s a secret.”

“Okay, well hey, you guys have fun, and I guess I’ll talk to you after.”

“Thanks man. Yeah, I’ll give you a call,” he said as Devon walked away. Rick waited patiently as everyone else left.

The last to leave, Jay came over as he pulled on his coat. “You need a ride or something man?”

“No, but thanks. I’m just sitting here trying to decide if I want to head straight home, or stop off somewhere and eat.”

“If you want something, I’ll keep you company. I could eat myself.”

Fuck
. He knew he should have come up with a better excuse. He thought for a moment, and said, “No, I think I’ll hang out and wait a bit. Tammy should be home soon, so I’m gonna stop by her place and see if she wants to go. No offence, but she’s cuter than you and she puts out.”

“Alright,” Jay laughed. “I can’t blame you there. Hey, I was thinking, let’s try adding some slide bass to the next track we’re recording. I really think it’ll add the punch we’re looking for.”

Without even thinking about the idea, Rick said, “Yeah, it’ll be amazing.”

“Good, I’m glad you think so too. Randy wasn’t too keen on the idea.” Jay zipped his coat and pulled his gloves out of the pockets. “I’ll see you next week. Oh, and good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks.” It didn’t occur to Rick to wish him luck, too. As the song’s producer, a Grammy would be quite a notch on Jay’s belt as well.

Once he was out of sight, Rick stood and retrieved his own coat. He turned off the lights in the studio and headed to the lobby. He waited around the corner and listened for voices. Hearing none, he continued on and found Bob at the front desk.

Bob leaned back in his chair with his feet on the desk watching TV. Seeing Rick, he raised his hand to the air for a high five. “My man,” he said.

Slapping his hand, Rick asked, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Bob lowered his feet and stood up. Rick followed him down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, Bob reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a bag of white powder, and placed it on the vanity.

“Just an 8-ball?” Rick asked.

“I thought that’s all you wanted,” Bob replied.

“I need two, I’m sure I said two.”

“No problem,” Bob said, shrugging his shoulders. Again, he reached into his pants and pulled out a second bag. From his uniform jacket, he pulled out a pill bottle and set it beside the two baggies. “Need some weed?”

“No, I’m good,” Rick said, as he pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and handed him the cash. Bob didn’t bother to count it, he just shoved it into his pocket. When his hand came back out, it held a small glass vial. Opening it, he offered it to Rick. “You want a hit?”

Rick took it and snorted four times in each nostril. Bob’s eyebrows rose as he watched Rick take advantage of the freebie without restraint. “Easy man,” he said. “That shit doesn’t grow on trees, ya know?”

Laughing at the joke, Rick apologized, “Sorry, but I really needed that.” He stuffed the baggies and bottle into his coat pocket. “Have you ever been busted Bob?” he asked as he watched the man take a turn snorting from the vial.

“Once, years ago. Since then I’m pretty careful who I do business with, like yourself.” Bob patted him on the shoulder, “You’re one of my best customers, never cause any trouble, and I never have to hunt you down for money,” he laughed. “You ever been busted?”

“No, knock on wood.”

“It helps that you keep a low profile. Some of these assholes go around raising hell, causing trouble, they get busted all the time. I won’t go near ‘em, no matter how much they beg.”

“That’s smart,” Rick said. “I better hit the road, Bob. Places to go, people to see.”

Bob stuck his hand out. “A pleasure, as always. Be good.”

“I always am.”

~

The big night arrived, and Rick carefully prepared for the evening. He rolled a few joints to have handy in case the chore was impossible later. Since it was a special occasion, he sprinkled the pot with cocaine. He set them out on his bed stand along with a pack of cigarettes, his lighter, a couple of cans of Coke, and the bottle of Percocet. He’d taken a couple before he rolled the joints, and he made note of the time to make sure he didn’t take any more too soon. He turned on the TV and crawled into his usual spot on the bed. Reconsidering, he climbed back out and removed the sweats he’d been wearing for three days, pulled a pair of briefs from the dresser drawer and put them on before retaking his spot on the bed.

His phone rang off the hook all day. Everyone wanted to know where he was going to spend the evening. What would he be doing? Would he be watching? Whom was he going to share the big moment with? He told them all the same thing he told Devon.

As the music signaled the beginning of the show, he lit a joint. The jokes told by the inept host became funnier, and he began to relax. Rick tried to stay focused through all the acts and not to doze through the commercials. The room became a haze as he smoked one cigarette after another. After the first hour of the show, he smoked another joint, popped open a can of Coke, and took a few more Percocet.

Numbness overtook him by the time Sarah Miles, ironically, announced the nominees for best rock performance by a group or duo. He stared blankly, without emotion as she tore into the envelope and excitedly announced, “And the winner is…
Haunted Dreams
, by Smoke n’ Mirrors!” By the time Sarah finished explaining that Smoke n’ Mirrors could not be there to accept the award, his phone started to ring. It took four calls for the ringing to pierce through his anesthetized armor. He rolled over and reached for the phone, but instead, grabbed the cord and yanked it out of the wall.

He remained on his side, motionless, his mind spinning out of control, filled with unexplainable anger and hopelessness. From his core, it slowly spread until it filled every cell in his body, pressing against his nerves, searching for release. He had no way of stopping it, so he screamed. It started as a mild scream but slowly increased in intensity and emotion. When his breath and voice finally gave out, he began to sob.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It took a few rings before Rick realized the noise was the doorbell. He looked at the clock beside the bed through bleary eyes to discover it was past noon. Slowly, he rolled off the bed and looked around the room for his robe. Unable to find it, he pulled on his sweat pants from the night before. The doorbell rang again.

“I’m coming,” he yelled, but his voice cracked and he knew no one heard him. When he reached the door, he saw through the sidelight window that it was a woman wearing a long, wool coat, and when she moved to peek through the window, he could see Julia’s long dark hair and slender form. As he opened the door, he had to close one eye and turn away from the bright light of the day.

“So you
are
alive,” she said, walking past him and into the house.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Devon’s been calling since last night. He barely slept, he was so worried about you.”

“Then why isn’t he here? Why did he send you?”

“Because he’s waiting for an important call. Do you know how hard it was for him to keep calling you when our phone won’t stop ringing?” She entered the living room, removed her coat, and threw it over the couch. As she did, Rick could see her nose wrinkle in disgust. “Ricky, it really stinks in here. What have you been doing?”

“Sleeping… I told Devon I was going out with Tammy last night. Why was he so worried?”

He tried to block her as she walked from one room to another, but the fog in his head kept him one step away from success, she easily skirted around him, and finally he asked, “Are you looking for something?”

“Ricky, what’s going on with you?” She nervously eyed several holes in the wall and then proceeded into the kitchen. She stopped and stared in shock. “Oh my God, I’ve never seen such a mess,” she turned to face him.

The moment he’d been dreading was upon him. He shook his head, “Nothing’s
going on
with me. I’ve been sick and just haven’t had the energy to clean up this week.”

“This week?” she asked with raised eyebrows. Rick waited as she surveyed the room. Dirty dishes covered the counters, the trash had long ago outgrown the capacity limits of the can, a combination of plates coated with mold, empty jars, empty boxes, and dirty glasses covered the table. She turned her attention back to Rick. “You weren’t out last night, Ricky. You look like you haven’t showered for days, and honesty, you smell as bad as your house.” 

“I told you, I’ve been sick. And yeah, I stayed home last night. I still didn’t feel good, so I cancelled on Tammy and just stayed in bed.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she told him.

“Yeah, thanks. I still can’t believe it.”

Rick wished she would just leave, but he knew that now she had seen the havoc, there was no getting rid of her.

“So what’s been wrong with you?” she asked.

“Nothing’s
wrong
with me,” he said, annoyed that he suddenly needed to defend himself.

“You said you were sick.”

“Oh, well yeah. I think it’s the flu,” he said, coughing for emphasis.

She shook her head and let out a deep sigh as she once again looked around the room in disgust. “Tell you what, you go take a shower, and I’ll start…a fire, or cleaning or something.”

“Julia, I don’t need you to clean for me, I’m perfectly able –”

“Go,” she cut him off and pushed him out of the room. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he left her in the mess and headed for the bathroom. “And shave,” she called after him. He didn’t make it far before he turned and went back into the kitchen. Julia was digging under the sink and rose holding trash bags.