Zenith Rising (37 page)

There were messy piles of information Erica
must have downloaded from the internet. Piano playing, job careers,
band auditions, even pamphlets on musical programs at the local
community college. The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled, and
shot a physical jolt through his head. He crumpled up one of the
white pages in his fist.

Erica stumbled into the kitchen with her hair
all mussed up, and her eyes looking sleepy. She smiled as she
poured coffee, and noticed what he was looking at. She didn’t
cringe, or look worried, or even seem to care in the slightest that
he found the piles of literature on her counter.

“What is this?” he finally asked.

Her eyes narrowed on his face at hearing his
tone.

She shrugged, leaning her hip into the
counter, and took a sip of coffee. “Some information I found;
nothing too specific, just some interesting stuff about the music
industry.”

“This is about me obviously. Why? Why do you
have all this shit about music?”

She stiffened. “No real reason. Ideas, I
guess. Keeping up on the latest information gives you more choices,
and ideas. Maybe somewhere in there is an opportunity with your
name on it.”

He stood up. “For me to what? Go to college?
Get educated so I’m good enough for you? Tell me, Erica, how does
one get into college if he never even finished high school?”

“I suppose, just get a GED.”

He turned his back to her and paced. “Is that
what I need to fuck you? A GED? A good enough job. College? You
think you’re going to groom the poor, stupid, loser kid you’re
screwing into someone good enough for you to date? Turn me into the
next Nick Lassiter or Roy Bennett?”

Erica calmly set her coffee cup down beside
her, and straightened her body with annoyance. “No, thank you. Nick
Lassiter, and Roy Bennett both fell in love with other women while
they were with me. No, Spencer, what I was doing was gathering
harmless information for a man who hates his job. And his position
in life. For a man who thinks he’s not good enough to go out with
me. I know how you feel when you look at me, and my career. You
show respect for it and me, but you also hate it. You wish I wasn’t
quite so rich, quite so old, and quite so successful! It would be
so much easier for you to handle being with me if I were a lousy
waitress somewhere, or a convenience store cashier. Admit it,
Spencer; that would stroke your ego. Make you feel okay about
yourself. You take my success personally. I’m not stupid. I see how
it riles your male ego and all your confidence.”

She paused, with her eyes blazing as she
spoke softer. “The stupid part is, if I were the man, and the
doctor in this relationship, it would be naturally accepted and
even considered wonderful. Quite a catch for a little woman who
hasn’t figured out her career! That would be okay though, wouldn’t
it? But since I’m older, with a successful career, and a woman, it
somehow reflects poorly on you, doesn’t it?”

He stopped pacing and stared at her, looking
dumbfounded. She continued, “So what I was actually doing, Spencer,
was accumulating some innocuous information for you. You can read
it, or burn it. I really don’t care. I wasn’t trying to
fix
you or improve your status. All I wanted to do was make you
feel
better about yourself.”

She pushed away from the counter and stormed
past him. He stuck a hand out, and grabbed her upper elbow as she
passed. “Wait. Just wait.”

She stopped and looked at him. “Why? You
already know how I feel about you. But I’m not willing to be less,
not even for you. I can’t help what I am, or what you are. I don’t
care if it changes or remains the same. You do. But I refuse to
feel guilty about it anymore.”

“I never said you should feel guilty.”

“You say it every time you sneer about what
you are and what I am.”

He sighed. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about
it. But it’s hard to look in the mirror when I’m with you and feel
like a man. It didn’t matter before you because there was only Rob
to judge me. Suddenly, now there is you. There are people looking
at me, and wondering why you would choose to be with me. Since I
can’t even understand why you’re with me, how can anyone else?”

“The problem is you’re afraid to go for
something more, and you get angry at me for suggesting that. But
you won’t even try. Either give music up completely, and find a job
doing something else; or follow your dreams, and exploit your
talent. Give
Zenith
another chance. Try different things. If
one doesn’t work, try another. That’s all the information I
collected: things you could try if you chose to. What I care about
is how unhappy you become, and how nasty you act to me.”

Spencer wondered how she saw everything so
crystal clear, so correctly, and still tolerated him. She was right
about everything. Yet he couldn’t muster up the will, or the
energy, or the faith that if he worked really hard, good things
would follow. He couldn’t find the motivation to try anything
different. Anything better. Enthusiasm was what he lacked in life,
and why he floated. All he ever could envision was that he’d end up
failing and be humiliated. He’d fail on his own as swiftly as
Zenith
did. What was the point of even trying?

Still, he couldn’t give it up, or think of
something else he wanted to do. So there he sat, feeling stuck,
drowning in self-pity, and useless. Directing his rage at the only
person who ever gave him an ounce of credit, and feelings of
worth.

She turned towards him fully and cupped his
face in her hands, but he resisted, and looked away until she
turned his face and forced him to make eye contact with her. “I
know why you think life can only kick you down. That’s all it’s
done to you to date. I know that. Really, I do. And we both know
exactly why you are the way you are. I don’t care if you do
anything more, or different. But I know you
want
to play
music. I see the joy in your eyes every time you even glance at a
piano. I know you’re good enough to be great. That’s all you’re
seeing here: my undying faith in you.”

She dropped her hands and he turned and
quickly scanned all the papers piled atop her kitchen counter. He
finally stretched a hand out, and picked up the first sheet. It was
an advertisement for a piano player at a local restaurant called
Piano Tunes, that featured piano contests each evening from seven
until nine. He flipped that to one side, and grabbed another sheet.
It was a music program through a local community college. There
were several advertisements seeking a piano teacher.

He looked back up at Erica. “I’ll take the
stuff home and glance through it.”

She smiled. “Do whatever you want with
it.”

He hesitated before adding, “I might not be
too receptive to some things.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Spencer, you are not
‘receptive’ to anything.”

“Okay. I don’t blindly accept things usually.
But thanks, for—” For what? For seeing him as a human being? As a
man? As a person with more than an ounce of worth? For loving him?
“For everything.”

“Consider it payback for all the help you
gave me after I was attacked. For that pamphlet. You’ve done a lot
for me too, Spencer. That’s the part you don’t see. You give a lot
to me too.”

He knew that wasn’t true, but since she
wanted to believe it and believe in him, it was hard for him to
ignore her. Or totally discredit her. How should he have reacted to
a woman with a doctorate, who seemed to think it was okay he didn’t
even earn a high school diploma?

“I have to go.”

Erica jerked back. “Because of the crap I
found?”

“No. Because I’ve got half an hour to get to
church.”

“Church? I had no idea you went.”

“Thought I’d give Preacher Don a visit.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know exactly. But after his last
visit, I decided to keep a better eye on him and Tamira.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Too bad. I
do. Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to physically attack him
this time. I’m going to sit in the audience and just watch the
show. Check out who else is watching the show. Nothing more. Just
an objective observer. And no, you can’t go. I don’t want you
anywhere near Preacher Don.”

“Just promise me that’s all you’ll do.”

“I promise.”

****

After spending a long hour of listening to
the warnings of fire and brimstone from Preacher Don, and the
Hallelujahs and Amens of his avid audience, Spencer was glad to
finally get outside and find peace and quiet. He was disappointed
that Tamira was not in attendance.

He couldn’t figure out who would be so intent
on going after Erica. Who could possibly wish her harm? She was the
most selfless, kind, patient person Spencer had ever known, and
without being annoying or condescending. What could anyone see that
was so hateful about her? Perhaps someone was jealous of her. That
was the only motivation Spencer could find, and the only person who
fitted into that theory was Tamira. But like Erica, he also
couldn’t believe Tamira intended to physically harm her.

Later, he seriously perused all the stuff
Erica collected for him. He read through a lot of it and considered
it good research. There were myriad ways to pursue a career in
music, often with no common path, like the training a doctor must
have. Erica, as usual, gathered intelligent and useful information.
Rob walked in as he continued reading.

“What’s all that?”

“Just some crap Erica found.”

Rob picked up one of the sheets and read it.
He nodded. “That’s good. You should go for it, or something…
anything.”

“What about you?”

Rob sighed as he grabbed a glass and filled
it with tap water. “What about me? Spence, forget about me. Go for
it. I told you, I already blew my chances. You didn’t. I’m too
scared to return to music, or become a lead singer again. You’re
not. You should do it. Do it, man, for me. For us. For what
Zenith
could have become.”

He stared at his best friend in the world,
but couldn’t fathom getting on a stage without Rob. Rob had always
been his rock, his one solid connection to anyone. Without Rob, he
would have been lost to the streets. Or dead. Rob always made sure
they were okay, and worked so they could live somewhere, and had
food to eat. Rob made Spencer care about living again. Spencer
survived and made it out of his teens, thanks to Rob Williams,
alone.

Rob thought the few bad years of alcoholism
somehow changed his future in music for him. He thought that
somehow Spencer would be better off without him. Never. No way.
Barely four years separated them, but when he was thirteen, it
could have been twenty years. Rob was the only one who protected
and fought for him and believed in his talent. Rob was the only one
who helped him when he was a trapped, scared-shitless, little
kid.

At thirteen he was scared of everything,
especially the things that had already happened to him. And then he
faced what
could
happen to him. He was terrified living on
the streets of being hurt and having no home. But he always had Rob
there.

And now Rob was suggesting that he forget all
of that? Forget Rob?

“I was thinking, we could, you know, get our
GEDs.”

Rob set his glass down and smiled. “Yeah?
Might not be the worst idea. Might help us not feel quite so shitty
inside. Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Why not?” Spencer echoed. Why didn’t they
ever bother before? Once they got off the streets, why did they
never bother? Why did it take someone like Erica to motivate
them?

“Erica got some stuff here for Community
College. Can you believe that shit? I’m going to what? Go to
school? Community College?”

Rob studied Spencer. “Why not? Yeah, man, why
not do that? Why couldn’t you do that? Your only limitation is
never getting the chance to finish school. Your childhood ended at
thirteen, you never had another opportunity to go anywhere, or do
anything better. Erica is that chance, Spence. Take it.”

“You don’t even like her,” Spencer grumbled,
becoming uncomfortable. He was scared that Rob was right. Erica was
his one and only last chance for finding anything of value in his
life. For him to become anything decent. But what were the odds
that someone like Erica would end up with someone like him in the
long haul? Or anything else that would benefit him?

“Man, I’d marry the girl if she weren’t two
inches taller than me.”

“You’d marry anyone. Never met a dude who
could have sex as often as you like, but refuses because you’re not
married or engaged to the girl.” Rob didn’t do one-night-stands. He
hardly looked at women who did, or came onto him. He was a total
freak for exclusive relationships. He loved being married. And
mourned the failure of his marriage as much as a death in the
family. He still grieved over what he lost with Joelle.

“Tell me, now that you have someone who cares
about you, that it’s not a thousand times better than with any one
of those moronic groupies you screwed your way through.”

“It might be better,” Spencer finally
admitted after a long moment.

“Then make sure you don’t lose her.”

****

Erica was finishing up her day when she heard
a knock at her office door. Marge entered. “Hey, there’s a woman
here who wants to see you. She says she has something important to
discuss with you, but she won’t say what.”

Erica couldn’t imagine who it could be. “Let
her come back. It’s fine.” Erica sat down at her desk and waited a
few heartbeats, until there was another knock. The woman crossed
over her office threshold, but Erica didn’t recognize the newcomer
as anyone she’d ever met before, not even as a former patient.

Erica stood up as the woman stretched her
hand out to shake. She was a tall, handsome woman, as tall as
Erica, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a pretty face. She looked to
be in her forties, at the most.