The Redemption(73)

Rochelle answers right away and damn if I don’t love that. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“It’s good to hear from you,” she says, “Everything okay?”

“Everything is complicated like always.”

“Are you alright?”

I lie down in the grass and look up at the night sky. I can see a million or more stars out here, unlike in LA. “Go outside, Rochelle.”

Without question, she goes. I hear her shuffling and the creak of a door. Then she says, “I’m outside.”

“Can you see any stars?”

“Not as many as I’d like.”

I smile. “I can see forever from here.”

“Can you see to LA? I’m waving just for you.”

“I can see you in my heart.”

“I miss you, Dex.”

“I miss you, too. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You too, but you don’t sound well.”

“I’m okay. Tell me about your day.”

“My day was boring,” she says.

“Not to me.”

I’m content listening to her talk, her voice soothing me. What she thinks is mundane, I find peaceful. It’s a life I can only hope to have one day.

“…The boys still talk about you. They remember everything you taught them.”

“Thank you for not making me the bad guy in their eyes.”

“Dex, you’re not a bad guy.”

Taking a deep breath, I say, “They’re reading another will of my grandfather’s. You know how you found out I was from a wealthy family?”

“Yes.”

“My grandfather was even wealthier. He was my idol once. He was a drummer.”

“Ah.”

“But when my mom was raped by my uncle, he blamed her.”

I hear her sharp intake of air. It’s a bombshell and no matter how it’s dropped, it’s gonna blow up, so there’s no point in tiptoeing around the monsters in the family.

“Dex—”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“You can talk to me.”

I hear my mom calling for me, but I don’t move. “I should go. It’s getting late. I’m sure you need some rest and I need to escape.”

“You’re not in this alone. Call me anytime.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams, Dex.”

When I hang up, I start back for the house. Fortunately my mom is nowhere in sight. I’ve had enough of my family for one day and head to bed.





My night is restless and I get up as the sun starts to rise. I don’t bother with formalities. Boxers, jeans, and a T-shirt are good enough to go downstairs to get coffee. When I’m walking down the hall, the door to Gage’s room opens and a familiar looking brunette is sneaking out—the server from dinner.

Her shoes in hand as she turns and then jumps, startled by me. “Morning,” I say.

“Good morning, Sir. I was just, uhhh, getting Mr. Caggiano his morning coffee.” I wonder if lying makes her feel better and if she actually thinks I believe her? She continues, “I need to go.”

She starts to dash off, but I say, “He’s married with two small kids.”

She doesn’t look back again as she leaves the house. In the kitchen I find a Keurig with a variety of coffee pods to choose from. Popping one in, I wait as it brews. Gage walks in without a shirt and scratching under his arm. “Morn,” he says, reaching for a mug from the hooks under the cabinet.

“What the f*ck? You’re married, Gage.”

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Can we hold this conversation until after we’re caffeinated or better yet, never?”

“Britney loves you.”

“And I love her, so what’s the problem?”

I turn my back to him, leaning my hands against the marble countertops, trying to control the rage he brings out in me. As a teenager I used to smoke pot with my friends. We’d trespass and go up to Griffith observatory to escape. When the band became famous, we’d trespass onto the Hollywood Sign and do coke or X.

I thought the night Cory died would be the last night I ever did drugs. I think I did everything I could get my hands on that night in Paris and my body paid the price. But Cory saved me. Now I carry guilt for falling in love with his woman, or falling more in love, I mentally correct myself. I loved her since the day I met her. Then add dealing with my * of a brother on top of that guilt and all I want to do is go break some shit, smoke some weed, and escape.

I won’t do it because of her and the kids. Good must be hereditary and those boys scored. It sure doesn’t run in my family.

Grabbing the coffee before the last drop falls, I return to my room. Gage was smart not to continue talking to me. I stay in my room and work on a song I’ve been writing, the lyrics coming in waves as I write them down. The band returns to the studio in eight days to record and I want this song to be perfect before they hear it. I’ve never written one for them before so I know they’ll be more critical.

A knock on the door causes me to look up. With a guitar in my arms, I say, “Come in.”

My mom walks in with two drinks in hand. “I brought you an iced tea.”