Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story (7 page)

When I explained this to Justine, she looked at me, again, like I was crazy. “Renee, honestly, I think David is great. But if you’re having doubts, maybe you should take some time apart from him to really think about it.”

Fortunately, this wish was granted to me less than an hour after Justine made the suggestion. My mother called and informed me, through broken sobs, that my grandfather had unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack. I was on a plane back to Boston the following morning, secretly grateful for the time I’d have to myself to think things through.

When I arrived back in L.A. the following week, I had a new and improved attitude. I told myself that I would stop over-analyzing every aspect of my relationship and start living one day at a time. Maybe my forever feelings about David would change in time. Maybe they wouldn’t. But I loved David, right now, at this moment in my life. And with my new outlook in mind, I went right from the airport to his house to surprise him.

I surprised him all right.

I strolled in his front door, through the living room, down the hallway, and threw open his bedroom door, not expecting what was waiting for me on the other side.

I stood there in a momentary lapse of paralysis, taking everything in, as David’s eyes stared back at me in horror, followed by another pair of eyes. Eyes that belonged to someone I loved and trusted more than
life itself.
Eyes I knew that, no matter how many times I stared back at them, would never look the same again.

Somehow,
a
fter gathering the scattered pieces of my brain and piecing them back together, I managed to unbuckle my feet from the floor and back away from the deluded scene that was unfolding before
me
. My legs guided me in the reverse direction as the outline of their figures became smaller and smaller.

And then I did the only thing that I could manage to do in my state of shock. I ran.

And I never once looked back.

***

“Did you have any idea that was going on?” Dylan asked. His back was propped against the living room wall, eyes trained on the ceiling, like he was trying to visualize the horror show I had just laid out for him.

“Not a clue.” I thought back to all the times David had hung out around the house with Justine and me. Sure, they got along great, but I’d never picked up on anything that revealed it was more than purely platonic.

“Why don’t you call your friend and talk to her about it?”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Maybe someday, but right now I can’t.”

“Understandable. So, what’s up with this David guy? Did you have any idea he was like that?”

I shrugged. “No, but it’s just as well because we were totally different. He’s a sports fanatic, I’m a music fanatic. We didn’t really have much in common.”

Dylan cocked his head to the side. “Then why were you with him?”

“Dylan, something tells me that Christina isn’t much a of a music fanatic herself.”

He threw his head back and burst out laughing. “Touché. Although, between you and me, I don’t exactly envision Christina as someone who’s going to be around for the long haul.”

“Yeah, anytime I tried to talk to David about music, he just didn’t get it. When I was in L.A., I landed a writing internship for a magazine, and when they assigned me to research some of the most popular bands of the twenty-first century, I couldn’t even think of one. If you asked me to write about the most popular bands of the eighties or nineties, I could name twenty off the top my head. But when I tried to talk to David about it, he could’ve cared less. I can’t be with someone like that. I want to be with someone who understands me, who sees things from my perspective. Or someone who at least cares enough about me to try to understand.”

Dylan nodded in agreement. “Well, the way I see it, the world is made up of two kinds of people, the people who live and breathe music and the people who don’t. Your life is either completely consumed by music or it
isn’t. Music is something that
brings people together. It
forms a bond between people who
have similar interests and understand each other. You know what I mean?”

If I was going to write my own version of the bible, Dylan’s words would have spawned the opening paragraph, not to mention the underlying theme of every other
chapter
throughout.

I nodded.

“But going back to the topic of today’s music,” he continued, “I couldn’t agree more. Most of the new b
ands on the radio nowadays are terrible
, which is why a lot of the stations still play Alice in Chains and Nirvana on such heavy rotation that you’d think they were a current band. I think the only great band that’s evolved so far this decade is Muse.”

Chapter
8

My mother, being the devoted Jesus-lover that she is, believes that each of us is given a gift, a specific talent that clarifies our identity and separates us from the rest of the world. Given my recent renewal with writing, I’d assumed that was my hidden talent, something I loved as an adolescent and rediscovered as an adult. But it was always unclear to me, sort of like looking through a window lined with fog, when you think you can see what’s on the other side, but it’s never quite as clear as you want it to be.

For Dylan, this isn’t the case. He knows what his talent is, clear as day. He’s always known. And yet, he chooses to do nothing about it.

Which is what pisses me off the most.

After spending countless hours listening to him waste his talent in a three-hundred square-foot apartment, I decided to step it up
myself. After racking my brain
for answers and coming up with a big fat zero, I dialed a musically inclined friend of mine to see if he had any ideas.

Eddie was Beth’s ex-boyfriend who I’d labeled the
Boston
music director because he played the drums in three different bands and knew everyone there was no know in the local music scene. You need to borrow a P.A.? Call Eddie. You need a last minute bass player fill-in? Eddie’s your guy. You have a friend with a voice from God who would rather burn to death than set foot on a stage?

Eddie was my last hope.

I dreaded calling Eddie because, as much of a nice guy as he was, he was quite the talker. I had no idea how he and Beth could have dated for so long because I swear if you put them in a room tog
ether and shut the door, they’d
suck all the air out of it.

After listening to Eddie ramble on for a good ten minutes about
The David and Justine F
iasco, I cut him off mid-sentence.

“Listen,” I began. “I didn’t call to talk about why I moved back home. I called because I need your help. I need advice from someone who is music savvy.”

“Okay,” he said. “How so?”

“Well, I met this guy who lives upstairs and…”

“Hold up, you met a guy
already
?” Eddie chuckled. “Didn’t you just get your heart broken not too long ago?”

I hated the term “heartbroken.” It was such an understatement. “Broken” typically implied you were talking about something you could put back together. Or replace. My heart didn’t feel like it was broken. It felt like it had been tossed into the blender and liquidized at 180 MPH.

“Yeah I did,” I agreed, not wanting to argue. “But Dylan’s just a friend. He has a girlfriend actually.”

“Oh, like that’s stopped you before.” Even though I couldn’t see Eddie, I could tell he was rolling his eyes. “I seem to remember a few instances when…”

“Eddie, I don’t need you to remind me about my poor lapses of judgment. What I need is your advice.”

“Sorry. So what’s up with this guy?”

“He’s talented. I mean, really talented. He’s phenomenal at the guitar and his voice is insane. But he’s a closet musician.”

“What the
hell
is a closet musician?”

“You know, someone who doesn’t play in front of anyone else. He’s petrified of performing in front of people.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do about it?”

I sighed. The truth was, I really didn’t know what
I wanted Eddie to do
. I guess I was hoping for some sort of insight. I wanted him to tell me that everyone has stage fright at some point in their lives but they get over it. Anything to make me feel hopeful. 

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess I just want some sort of advice from someone who performs as much as you do. I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t think this guy was worth it, but I really think he has the potential to be something. He’s
that
good.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and I could picture him staring up at the ceiling with a dopey look on his face and millions of thoughts spinning through his head. Anyone who talked as much as he did must think twice as much as the rest of us. 

“Well, my friend Justin was actually telling me the other day how his band is looking for a new lead singer, so maybe we could get them together somehow. Wait, your birthday is coming up soon right?”

“Yeah, it’s at the end of the month.”

“How old are you going to be?”

I sighed. “Twenty-five. I’m practically a senior citizen and I’ve just now finished college.”

He started laughing. “Oh please, I’m thirty-three! And aren’t you a career student anyways?” Eddie referred to anyone that switched majors more than twice as a career student.

“Can you please tell me what this has to do with Dylan?”

“Okay, here’s the plan: I’ll have a little birthday gathering for you at my place and you can invite your friend. I’ll invite Justin and fill him in on what’s going on. Then, maybe Justin can convince him to come jam with them and see how it goes.”

I buried my head in my hands. “He won’t go for it.”

“Well, if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t. But if he does, then he’s one step closer to the real thing. Maybe we can get him a little liquored up and see if he’ll agree to it.”

Figuring I had nothing to lose, I decided it was worth a try. “Okay. Name the date and I’m in.”

***

After making sure the Blazer was nowhere in sight, I threw on a red low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that made my ass look like you could bounce quarters off it, then moseyed up to Dylan’s apartment to propose my birthday invitation to him. He struck me as the type of guy who was a little on the antisocial side, so getting him to agree to spending an evening with a bunch of strangers was going to take some work. A cute outfit was definitely a start.

Dylan wasn’t in the best of moods when he answered the door. I asked him if he wanted me to come back another time, but he insisted that my company would probably do him some good. I peered around his apartment, making sure there was no one else inside before entering. He caught my gaze and chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “It’s just me.”