Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star) (17 page)

I stayed with Mara as long as the nurses allowed me, but by eleven p.m., I was asked to leave.  Incredibly, but not the least bit surprising, my parents were sitting on a bench outside the hospital waiting to drive me wherever I’d be spending the night.  Their concern and support for me has always been paramount.  For that, I could never thank them enough.

“Oh, Tagg, honey,” my mom cried and gave me a much needed bear hug.

While she still had her arms around me, my dad patted my back, “Son, we waited so we could take you home.  Kenya’s staying at my place, we figured that’s what you would do too.”  Auggie stated in his gruff, but well-meaning manner.

“Dad, if you don’t mind, maybe you can bring me to my house.  I’ll get Mara’s car and stay at a hotel nearby.”

“Where you gonna find a hotel this late?” 

“Aren’t all hotels open all night long?”  I asked credulously.

Auggie shrugged and put his hands up in defeat.  “Have it your way, Taggart.”

I rolled my eyes at my father, because that’s what passive-aggressive people do, and it was always hard for me to disobey my father.

Mom, finally letting go of the grip she had on me, interrupted.  “Tagg, honey, I don’t think you should be alone tonight.” She motioned to my dad and then back to herself.  “We’d feel so much better if you stayed at your dad’s.”

“I’m only coming back here early in the morning anyway.  I’d rather stay close by.”

Mom put her hand on my arm.  “Please honey.  I’ll get you back here by ten.  That’s when visiting hours begin.  That’s when Caroline is coming back.”

“Caroline.  Wow, I never thought.  Where is she staying?”

Auggie answered before Mom.  “She’s staying at the Holiday Inn down the road.  I offered to have her stay at my house with us, but she wanted to stay close.”  I went to protest, but Dad held his palm up to stop me.  “She had already made a reservation earlier.”

Closing my eyes as I simultaneously sighed, I made a request.  “Okay.  I’ll stay with you, but would you please bring me to get Mara’s car?  I don’t want to leave it there.”

“Are you sure you want to go back there right away?”

“Mom, it’s a house.  I don’t care about it.  I just care about Mara and I want her to get better.”

She nodded.

“Okay.”  Auggie cut in.  “You can ride with your mother.  I’ll meet you at your house.”  He was off.

“I think your Dad wants to assess the damage before you get there.”  Mom half-heartedly laughed.

***

When we approached my driveway, there were still two fire trucks standing by as a safety precaution and the fire inspector was wrapping things up.  “Mr. Holland,” the inspector hailed from a few feet away.  “I found this next to a couple of discarded gas containers.”

He handed me a clear plastic bag.  Inside was a woman’s bracelet with a diamond-encrusted star dangling from it. The inscription on the back said, ‘Crystal, Always the Star.’  “This is Crystal’s bracelet.  I bought this for her years ago.  I don’t understand.”

“That’s why I’m showing it to you.  It’s getting dark, so I’ll be back in the morning, but this was definitely an act of arson, and this bracelet holds the clue to who was behind it.”

“Well, that’s just crazy.  Crystal died seven years ago.”  Not that I believed that anymore.  “Maybe the bracelet was thrown from the house during the fire.  I never did get rid of her things.”

The inspector shook his head.  “No.  The bracelet was too far into the woods.  I’m guessing whoever it was, tried to carry all the containers, but dropped two of them when she ran off, losing her bracelet at the same time.”

“How can you be sure there were more than two containers?”

“Mr. Holland, your house is quite large and it went up in no time flat.  The entire house was drenched in gasoline.  Whoever did this must have planned it, especially if you say you were only gone for thirty minutes.”

“But, how would they have known I was going out?  I originally had no intention of leaving.”

“Your ‘Vette was still here.”  The inspector motioned to my charred car and I felt a pang deep in my chest.  I know it was a material possession, but that car signified a definitive time in my life.  I was sad to see it destroyed beyond recognition.  “I suppose the suspect intended on your being home.”

“You mean…they wanted me dead?”

One nod was the inspector’s only response.

Auggie walked over as soon as he heard that.  “What’s this about a bracelet?  Who wanted to kill you?”

“Mr. Holland.”  The inspector greeted my father.

“Who wanted my son dead?”  Auggie repeated louder.

“We’re not sure yet, but we found this bracelet next to a couple of gas containers.  Your son claims it belonged to his late wife.”

When Auggie turned his attention on me, I just shrugged.  My headache was coming back and I felt faint again.  My father saw my disorientation and put his arms up to brace me.  “Listen, here’s my number.”  Auggie gave the inspector his card.  Why an aging rock star would have a business card was beyond me, but he always had them on him.  He had a separate cell phone number, from his private line, listed on the card.  I guess he didn’t want just anyone to call his private number.  “Give me a call in the morning.  My son’s had a rough day here.  He needs to rest.  We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Sure.”  Dad walked me to Mara’s car, but sat me in the passenger’s side.  “Dad, I can’t drive it from this side.”

“From what I just witnessed, you’re in no condition to drive at all.  Ronnie’s on his way with his girlfriend to pick up my car.  I’ll drive the Beetle so you have it for the morning.  Now, close your eyes.  Don’t think.  Just sleep.  We’ll be home shortly.”

***

The next morning, the reality of yesterday’s tragedy hit me hard.  My head wasn’t only aching, but my stomach had an empty pit in the center of it that burned as intensely as my house did yesterday.  I wanted to scream, yet I was ironically insentient, almost as if I were having an out of body experience.  With the back of my head on my pillow, I remained transfixed on the ceiling above me.  I needed to move, to get to the hospital to see Mara.  Only, I didn’t know what to expect of today.  Would Mara be better or would she be worse?  Was Crystal really out there, seeking retaliation by securing my death?  Could a ghost do that?  Was she really dead?  It made no sense to me, yet that yellow Camaro kept flashing through my dreams last night.

“The yellow Camaro.”  I suddenly jerked to a sitting position.  “They need to find the yellow Camaro.”  I said out loud, to myself.

“Already on that.”  My father responded as he came upon my bedroom door.

“Dad.  The Camaro.”

“Taggart.  I know.  That’s why I said I was already on that.  I thought of that immediately, but you needed to rest and I figured it could wait ‘til morning.”

“But… if she’s watching me, then we’re all in danger.  Mara.  Oh my God.  What if…”

“Taggart.”  Dad stopped my nonsense.  “She’s safer than anyone.  She’s in the hospital.  And, about that.  Caroline called this morning.  They’re transporting Mara to the Burn Center at Saint Barnabas in Livingston.”

“Livingston?  Wait. Why?”

“It looks like her burns are too serious for them. Saint Barnabas is better equipped.  It’s the best place she could be right now.”

“Oh Dad.”  I sat at the edge of my bed and put my head in my hands.  “This is all my fault.  I should have never brought her into my world.”  I looked up at my Dad.  “I hate my life.  I just want to be normal.”

“What are you talking about, Taggart?  What does your life have to do with anything?”

Such compassion, my father.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know…I don’t know.”  I tapered off and held my head again.

“Mom made you breakfast.  Get dressed, eat and we’ll meet Mara at Saint Barnabas.  They were transporting her there first thing this morning.”

I nodded.  “I’ll have coffee, but I’m not particularly hungry.”

“Well, whatever.  Just get a move on.”

Dad and Mom drove me to the Burn Center.  I must say, if the woman, whose wounded hands were holding my heart, weren’t severely injured, it would have been nice to appreciate my parents’ coalescence.  I never did want them to divorce, so it was bittersweet to be with them together…and not arguing.

Mom sat in the back seat so Auggie could talk to me.  “Now, Taggart, tomorrow you are scheduled for the studio, right?”  My compassionate father began his questioning.

“Yes, but, I’m not going to make it.”

Dad gave a disappointed sigh.

“Dad.  My God.  It’s all you think about.  My career.  Who the hell needs it?”

Auggie slammed his hand on the steering wheel.  “Who the hell needs what, Taggart?  It’s your goddamn job.  There are many people counting on you.  If you don’t do this, you allow a lot of people to lose work.”

“Uhhh.” I slammed my head against the back of my seat.  “Why are we talking about this now?”  My head was pounding again.  From the backseat, Mom reached over and rubbed my arm.

“I don’t get you, Taggart.”  Auggie ranted.  “You were born with a friggin’ silver spoon in your mouth, but you act as if life is so hard on you.  Jesus Christ, Taggart, get over your self already.”

“Augustus.” My mother clipped.  “Don’t talk to him like that. This is a terrible time for him.”  Mom turned to me, “Tagg, sweetie, you don’t need to rush to any decisions.  Your concern is Mara and that’s okay.”

“Oh geez, Kenya, it’s not like Taggart has a nine to five job.  He gets paid an obscene amount of money to entertain the world.  He’s made commitments and he can’t just toss that aside.”

“Auggie! Screw the commitments.” I was outraged and ready to kill him.  He had no idea of the emotions a normal person felt.  “The friggin’ love of my life almost died yesterday, but you wouldn’t know an emotion like that.  You never loved anyone a day in your life.  It’s all about the lay, isn’t that right, Augustus?”

The car came to a screeching halt; he didn’t even pull off to the side of the road.  He jumped out of the car, practically hurdled the front end and yanked my door wide open, grabbing me by the collar and yanking me out of my seat.  “You frigging, ungrateful, son of a bitch.”

It took an instant before I registered Auggie’s balled fist pulling back was for the sole purpose of meeting my face square in the nose.  I felt the blood simultaneously spill from my nose and rush straight to my head.

My mother’s screams were heard through a tunnel as I fell against the side of the car.  “Auggie! You’re crazy.  Stop it now!”

“Go to hell, Kenya.”  So much for their coalescence.  “And while you’re at it, get your sad excuse for a son back into the car.”

Auggie was back in his seat and impatiently waiting for us when I pushed away from my mother.  “I’ll find my own way to the hospital.”  But the blow to my face had knocked the pride out of me.  I couldn’t storm away.  I couldn’t even walk.  My vision was out of focus and mom had to help me into the car.  This time, she sat in front.

“You know Augustus, that was uncalled for.”  I needed to jab, even though he beat me to a bloody pulp with one punch.

“Taggart.” Mom interceded. “Don't provoke him again.” Then she directed her comments to Auggie. “Tagg can post-pone production on his album.  The world’s waited more than seven years to hear from Holland, they can wait a little longer.”

Thanks to Mom, Auggie remained quiet, but still incensed. The rest of the ride was driven in silence, but I wasn’t complaining; I just wanted to close my eyes and think about Mara. And forget the raging headache that was building.

***

The nurses were hooking Mara up to her tubes when we got there; they wouldn’t allow us in to see her just yet.  Caroline was in the waiting area, so we asked her to join us for coffee.  She and my mom were hitting it off pretty well.  Auggie was still stewing and giving me his evil eye, but I just ignored him.  I finished the last of my coffee and excused myself from the table.  “I’ll meet you upstairs, I’m just going to take a walk.”

My destination was for Mara’s floor.  I felt I needed to be closer to her, even if I couldn’t see her yet.  Walking through the halls, I passed a couple of guards, but since they knew who I was and had already heard that my girlfriend was being admitted, they let me wait in the all-purpose room at the end of the floor.  The room was void of people, but had several couches, a flat-screen television, a stereo and bookshelves filled with books and toys.  In the corner sat an old, upright piano.  I sat on the weathered bench that was being held together by duct tape, and played a few scales.  I let the sound of the keys take over in my mind and started playing Canon in D by Pachebel.  I closed my eyes while my fingers fluently danced on the ivory keys.  I missed playing the piano.  As the lead singer of a rock band, the opportunity didn’t present itself often.  My Pachebel rendition turned into Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen and then November Rain by Guns and Roses.  I had the uncanny ability to remember any song I’ve ever played; the whole time keeping my eyes closed and becoming the music.  Music filled my soul. It calmed. It healed. It motivated. And it was unfortunate that I had given it up for so many years.  Not the performing part; singing, for me, never had the capacity to nourish me from within.  Playing an instrument did, however.  Piano, Violin, Saxophone, even playing the guitar could transport me to another dimension.  I gave up my lessons on any given instrument when I founded my band.  It was clear we had needed a lead singer and since I also had a gifted singing voice, that’s where I had fit into Holland.