The Redemption(44)

I went numb while holding my newborn. I should have gotten to enjoy my sweet baby being born. But that was ripped away from me when I was told of the plane crash. A numbness took over, then anger that welled up inside of me, squeezing the life out of me, making each breath hard to take as if the world was lacking oxygen.

The anger is so easily to identify with, but I pushed it down, not wanting to upset anyone, not wanting anyone to think I didn’t love Cory. I loved him with all of my being. But he left me in a world I don’t feel equipped to live in or maybe it’s just my emotions that are hard to live with. I reach for the framed photo of me and Cory that sits on the nightstand. Taking it in hand, I run my finger over the glass. I see love when it was pure and simple. He made it so damn easy to love him. When I smile, I have a moment of clarity—Johnny, Dex, and Tommy mourned Cory’s death. His family has mourned. Mourning doesn’t mean forgetting… I will never forget him, but I need to mourn him.

Now I’m left questioning whether it was fair to start things with Dex under these conditions. Not being in the right state of mind, I’m in no mood to have to justify my reaction today. We had sex. We made out. We were coupling. That much is fact. So for him to jump into bed with someone else after a fight… I don’t know if I can forgive him for that.

Thinking about him, makes me want to call him. And wanting to call him makes me feel pathetic. I check for any messages, just in case before setting my phone back down. Now I’m even more disappointed that he hasn’t called or texted me. Ugh!

I try to convince myself that it’s because he’s on his flight, but deep down I know it’s not. What pisses me off the most is that I want to hear from him. I want him to tell me this is all a misunderstanding and that what I walked in on wasn’t what it looked like. But I know better no matter how much I try to change the image in my head. He also didn’t deny it. I need to stop being stupid and focus on business.





By the second meeting of the day, I’m bored. “These ideas are unoriginal,” I start in. “I don’t want the band doing the festival circuit. Anyway, I’m not seeing a need for them to tour next summer unless they have a new album out and right now they aren’t due to go back into the studio for three months. Give them another two months to work through the tracks that haven’t even been written and then we might have new music for them to promote. But it’s going to be a hard sell to talk them into it now without tour ideas that wow them.”

Nick is the home base assistant to Tommy. He says, “They’re tired right now. Getting burned out like all bands nearing the end of a lengthy tour. Tommy says we shouldn’t even pitch the idea to them until they’re home and rested.”

“I wouldn’t even broach the subject unless we’re solid with something original,” I say, “Johnny likes real ideas, something he can visualize. We’d need to present it on paper, through art. Also, this tour needs a better concept for the drum kit. Dex…” My heart starts beating heavy in my chest. I clear my throat while looking down. Focus. “Umm… Dex likes his platform rounded and it’s been square the last two tours.”

MaryLee, the set designer, leans forward and asks, “Why does he like a rounded platform?”

I turn my attention to her, trying to hold any personal reaction I might have. “He thinks it shows off his drum set better. The curves highlight the curve of the kit. It’s a personal thing, not something I think makes a difference to most, but he’ll want input when it comes to the drum arrangement on stage.”

She taps a pen against the table, looking to others for additional suggestions. When none come, she says, “What about we highlight Dex on the tour. He can have a sliding stage that moves front and center when he has a solo, then moves back into place?”

Nick agrees, “I like that idea.”

I add, “It can move up and down maybe.”

MaryLee sits ups. “That’s a fantastic idea. We can showcase him.”

Nodding, I say, “Get more ideas going. The album will set the theme, but we need these new concepts to really pull it off and get them enthused to sign on.”

MaryLee asks, “When do you want the concepts?”

“We have time. Two months. I want a model made to see how the platform will work and to show the guys. Thanks for your time. We’ll talk soon.” I get up and leave, restraining myself from rushing to the elevators. As I ride down, I begin to wonder if I’ve screwed up my job now as well by sleeping with Dex. Any idiot would know this outcome was predictable, but I still fell for his act. That’s just it. He said it himself—He was trying to prove how good he was. It doesn’t come second nature to him. That’s why he has to prove it. Good people don’t have to prove it because they show through their every day behavior.

As soon as I’m in my car, I think about the time under the stars—big and little pictures—the details, and the kiss before we were caught.

I was a fool for going to his place. The second he had a chance, he dropped the good guy act and slipped right back into his wolfish self. He’s probably breathing easier now that he’s taken off the sheep’s clothing.

Needing gas, I pull off to a gas station on La Cienega Boulevard. After it begins pumping, my thoughts drift back to the gathering at my house after the funeral. So vividly, I remember how he felt wrapped around me, and the smell of his breath against my neck as I cried, when he gave Neil the drumsticks, and how he replanted the lettuce knowing it was more about the metaphor than the vegetable.