Rocked Forever (3 page)

I hit play on the video in front of me, and watched for a few seconds, and suddenly I could see what he was talking about. It wasn't what I asked, or how they answered. It was… a relationship. Not just Joe charming the camera or me probing for information. It looked like we were friends chatting. Like he was just explaining something so I could know him better. My body language was casual and confident. His was open and welcoming. I'd been so blinded my own worries and insecurities that I hadn't noticed the change, the growth.

"When did this happen?" I asked, not really sure if I wanted Steven or the universe to answer.

"It's been gradual. It ain't science, sis. It's magic. And you've got it."

I looked at the frozen image on my screen and smiled. "No, it was Matthew."

Steven sighed. "Oh, El. I saw the video about it being a medical issue. How's he doing?"

"I have no idea. He hates me now."

"What happened?"

I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat. "I can't talk about it. Not yet. But he's done with me."

"I'm sorry," my brother said. "I could see how much you two cared about each other."

"Yeah. But you know as well as I do, that some breaks can't be healed."

"True, but he's a good guy, right?"

"Yeah." A tear slid down my cheek. "Maybe the best I've ever met."

"If he's as good as you think, whatever happened between you, he'll give you another chance. If he could hear how you sound right now, he'd get over it. Get over anything."

"Maybe so." I wiped my face. "Maybe someday. But I don't have time to worry about that right now. It's all happening, everything we dreamed of, and I've got to focus on that."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but don't let yourself hide behind work. It's important, but not the only thing that matters."

I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "I know, but I've got to deal with what I can control right now, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "And hey, I know you've got a lot to do, but I just want to say two things. First, you call me if you need anything."

"I will. Probably sooner than you think."

He laughed. "That sounds like classic Ellie scheming to me, I can't wait."

"You know it. What's the second thing?"

"I'm proud of you."

Those words hurt and soothed in a way I thought impossible, and I resolved to carry them with me through whatever would come next. Steven was my family, and we'd been torn apart, but hadn't broken. That meant everything.

*

The next morning I was exhausted, inhaling coffee like it was water, as I stood in the middle of the room I'd set up. Cameras and lights were set, the white backdrop and chair perfectly placed. After a long night of actual work, it was time to make my plan a reality, and it was all on me.

What I wanted to do here was well past the surface gossip and silly stuff I'd gotten used to producing. Diving into the history and heart of this band was deep and important to get right. As much as I wanted to do it, I was still terrified to step out of my comfort zone. If I couldn't make what was in my head translate on screen, I will have wasted a lot of time, and not just my own. But it was worth the risk to do something more. To be something more.

After taking a few deep breaths, I looked down at my list of questions and went to stand behind the camera.

From the chair, Joe smiled. "We ready to get started?"

"Yes. Do you need anything before we begin?"

"Nope."

"Okay," I said, pressing to start the recording. "Joe Hawk, session one," I muttered so the mic could catch it. I sat down on the stool behind the tripod. "Joe, tell me about one of your earliest memories with the band."

He flashed a crooked grin and thought for a moment. Then he began to speak.

Joe was hungry, hungover, and needed a shower. He stumbled out of the back of the van, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight that mocked him. "Where are we?"

Ryan stood with his arms crossed, frowning. "Does it matter?"

Joe rolled his eyes at the band's new manager, and shrugged. "Guess not. How much time do we have?"

"Half an hour. Get inside, clean yourself up, I'll check on the food situation."

"All right." He was about to thank Ryan, but the older man was already gone around the corner of the vehicle. Joe turned around and poked the sleeping lump still inside. "Get up, shithead."

The lump groaned and a hand appeared. "Beer. Now."

"There's beer in the club." And hopefully a shower, he added to himself.

The lump rose and Dex's face appeared, bleary-eyed. "D'you reckon?"

"Of course. That's why we're paying this guy a percentage, right? Get us gigs and keep the booze flowing."

"Indeed." He climbed down and shoved a pair of sunglasses on. "Fuck the daytime."

Joe laughed. "Come on, let's get inside before Rick drinks all the beer."

They walked into the club, let in by a girl wearing a lot of eyeliner and a very small dress.

As they passed, Dex smiled at her. "All right, darling?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't even bother trying, asshole."

Joe dragged his friend inside and they made their way through the club. "Nice girl."

Dex nodded. "I thought being a musician was supposed to make girls fall all over us. Isn't that why we're doing this job?"

"No, we're doing it because we suck at everything else. But I told you, you gotta forget the girls who work in the clubs, man. They've seen it all."

Dex slung his arm over Joe's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Is an army of adoring groupies too much to ask?"

"Apparently." Joe smiled. "Besides, what does it matter? We'll be in some other city a hundred miles down the coast tomorrow."

"Even better. I'm looking for fun, not a wife, mate." Dex faked a shudder.

"One day a girl is going to knock you on your ass, turn you into her bitch, and I'm gonna love it."

"Don't hold your breath on that one," Dex said. "You're the sap, not me. There's no girl on this planet that amazing."

A guy in a t-shirt bearing the club's name pointed them to their dressing room. Inside, Rick and Matthew were tossing items from a duffel bag onto an empty table.

Rick looked up and flipped them off. "Where you been, assholes?"

"Trying to get every last minute of sleep possible," Joe said. "This schedule is brutal."

Rick grunted. "You're the one who wanted to get serious about this shit. Hope you had sweet dreams."

Joe opened the bathroom door and sighed with happiness. There was a shower, and it looked safe to be barefoot in. A small miracle.

From behind him, Dex said, "Was dreaming about your mum, Ricky. She's a real hellcat in bed. Truly depraved."

Joe turned in time to see the empty duffel bag smack Dex in the head.

Everyone laughed.

He shook his head and stepped into the bathroom. There were even clean towels. He pulled the door almost closed and turned on the water before stripping off and stepping into the tiny stall. He'd only been in for a few second when someone entered the room.

"Sorry," Matthew called out. "Club guy said the other bathroom's busted and I really need to piss."

Joe groaned. "It's fine. Don't worry, I won't peek."

Matthew laughed. "Are you kidding? Who'd even notice? This last month I've seen your dick almost as often as my own."

"You flirting with me, Daniels?"

"We haven't been on the road that long. Yet."

Joe heard the toilet flush and the water ran ice cold. "Shit." He just stood there waiting for it to warm up again, a half smile on his face. It was nice to see Matthew clearly happy. He was so quiet and thoughtful, sometimes Joe wondered if he even liked being in the band. But between Dex's constant drunken yammering and Rick's blunt dickishness, it was refreshing to have someone around who didn't feel the need to express their every thought and emotion to the entire world.

Joe rinsed off in the now lukewarm water, wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He headed back into the dressing room, where Ryan was bringing in a big cardboard box.

He set the box down, and the scent of fried heaven filled the room, managing to overcome the now familiar stench of stale booze and sweat from decades of bands.

"Joseph, put some pants on and grab a burger. I need to talk to you alone."

The other guys were already digging into the food like a pack of wild animals.

"Uh-oh, you're in trouble, golden boy," Rick said, shoveling fries into his mouth.

"Shut up, you big idiot." Joe dragged his jeans from the pile of clean-ish clothes, and pulled them on. He used the towel to swipe at his head and grabbed a bag of food. "Ready when you are, Ryan."

*

Joe paused and cocked his head to the side.

I'd been so engrossed in his story that I almost forgot I was supposed to be involved. "Why'd you stop?"

He smiled. "I was just remembering how crazy everything felt back then. We'd decided to really go for it, try to make the band into something, and it was amazing. Broke, always hungover, aching from sleeping in that stupid van most nights and lugging our own gear everywhere. Looking back, I usually remember the fun we had. Nostalgia, right? But it was stressful, too. Working constantly and playing for crowds that hated us or were indifferent, and we didn't even know what would come of it, if anything."

"And if nothing had? If you hadn't ended up hugely successful, would it have been worth it?"

Joe thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. Absolutely. And in some ways, it would be easier. Still playing tiny clubs. Making enough to get by. I love where we are, but there's a whole other level of pressure I never imagined." He scratched his ear. "Did you know I have an assistant?"

"No," I said, unsure where this was going.

"Yeah. Like a person who works just for me. I pay his salary. A whole guy I support. I mean, I don't personally write the checks or whatever, but… yeah. It's really weird shit. He's a cool dude, really helps and I need him. But I still remember when having an actual manager felt like the coolest thing in the world. It was only a few years ago, and everything has changed so much."

"I'm sure. You must miss Ryan very much."

"I do. We all do. He was a real prick most of the time, but he made us. He taught us how to be a band rather than just a bunch of guys who play music together."

"That's great. Ready to move on?"

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat a little. "Ryan had this quirk, this weird thing he did. Always called everyone by their full first name, wouldn't use nicknames."

"Why?"

He grinned. "He claimed it was more professional, but I think he just liked annoying people sometimes, and this was a way to do it without getting called out. Well, usually."

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"Shit, yeah. They say there's an exception to every rule, and in this case, Dex was that exception."

I thought back through videos I'd watched, interviews I'd read. "What happened?"

Joe leaned back. "Before we officially hired Ryan, he came to a couple of shows to check us out, make sure it was a good fit. So, each time he'd wait after the show, come backstage, chat with us for a few minutes. And every time, it was the name thing. I was Joseph, always. The guy who booked bands at this one club, his name was Colgate, like the toothpaste. His actual name. So everyone called him Cole, for obvious reasons. But not Ryan. He called the man Colgate to his face, and no one said shit about it."

He sighed.

"It's just how he was, and everyone just took it. But this time he took us out to celebrate working together. Went to this hideous dive bar. Really revolting, but Rick knew the bartender and so we drank mostly for free, and grew to love it. Anyway, we're all getting wasted, it's like four in the morning and there's no end in sight. I can barely see, and we're at this table just shooting the shit, doing shots, whatever. Ryan goes to tell us a story, and he calls Dex ‘Dexter,' like usual. But – and fuck if I know why – this time Dex just isn't taking it. He leans over the table, points his finger in Ryan's face – almost touching his nose, that close – and says, ‘It's Dex, you wanker. Call me Dexter again and I'll clock you one.' Something like that. Pissed off and drunk he goes full Brit, you know?"

I laughed. "I've noticed."

"Yeah. So, he's all up in Ryan's face and the guy just smiles, doesn't say a word. We just sit there for a minute and then get back to partying. The next day we go sign the papers and Ryan's our manager, all official. At the end of the meeting he shakes each of our hands, talks about how he's looking forward to working with us, that kind of thing. When he gets to Dex, they shake hands, and Ryan goes, ‘I look forward to getting to know you better, Dexter,' and then moves on to Matthew. Dex waits a second, then grabs Ryan by the arm. Spins him around and just sucker punches him. Right in the face, full force. The man drops to his knees and we're frozen like statues. Then Matthew, cool as king of shit mountain, helps Ryan up. He turns to Dex and just shakes his head. He says, all calm, ‘That's messed up, man.' Totally cool about it. No anger, just disappointment."

I closed my eyes for a second, because I could picture it. It was a struggle to keep from sighing.

"So I'm standing there wondering if Ryan's gonna tear up our contract or strangle Dex or who knows what. But he just touches his nose for a second, takes a deep breath, and tells us he'll see us at the show that night. And the crazy thing is, as far as I know, he never said a word about it again to any of us. It's like it never happened. Except he never calls – never
called
– Dex Dexter again."

"Amazing. And hilarious."

Joe smiled. "Yeah. I'm not advocating violence or anything, but it was a great moment. And classic Matthew. He's always been more level-headed than the rest of us. Usually has a great perspective about whatever is going on." He paused and swallowed visibly. "It's weird. Weird as shit to be here without him. We've only done a handful of shows with someone missing."

"You have?" I didn't know that, and it made even more sense that Matthew knew what would happen if anyone found out he was still hurt.