Authors: Shey Stahl
You should fear me
dear
The horror held so
near
You tease me dear
For you can’t know
The shame I hold so
dear
For you don’t know
The scenes appear in
fear
His eyes were focused
on the ground when he would sing one of his one
songs
,
never looking up, the nervous edge he had overpowering every other motion he
had. But I felt and heard every word as I always did when he sang.
What
was
hard were the girls that hung all over Dylan before the shows and even during
them. They crowded the stage, clung to his legs and offered
themselves
up after every set.
I did not like that and
felt better that Dylan didn’t want to pursue his music any more than he already
was. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing this every night. Some of those girls
should have been ashamed of themselves. They looked desperate and trashy.
As I sat in the crowd,
Dylan’s eyes were on mine a lot. He knew that I didn’t know anyone besides
Megan and Drew and both were at The Joint preparing for the final show. Megan
showed up halfway through their set and asked if I wanted to come back with her
but I couldn’t leave when Dylan was on stage. There was something about that
boy when he had a guitar. An enchanting force surrounded him up there and you
couldn’t help but stare at him as he held your attention.
If you didn’t know any
better, you would have thought Dylan had been performing his entire life with
how relaxed he appeared at times, until he played one of his own songs.
Drew and Megan showed
up again at the second bar just about the time Dylan and the boys came on
stage. He spotted Drew and smiled adjusting the
mic
height. Slinging the guitar over his shoulder, he wrapped his hands around the
microphone and met Drew’s eyes near the stage. “This one is for my brother.” He
raised an eyebrow when a group of energetic girls in front of him
screamed,
his warm laughter rang through the bar.
Dylan flicked his wrist
behind him and Reece started in with a song I knew held meaning for Dylan and
Drew.
Midnight Rider.
Drew laughed. “He
better not fuck this song up,” he said with more emotion than I thought a guy
like Drew Wade would display. Megan wrapped her arms around his waist and
swayed to the music as Dylan leaned forward and began to sing. There was such a
rush around us, bodies swaying, the vibrations of live
music,
it was easy to get lost.
The version he played
of the song was heavier, more rock style like Theory
Of A
Deadman
would do, but it was perfect and ignited the
crowd the way it was designed to.
I knew one thing, it
was hot in there. Being in Alabama in late July, the heat from outside was
intense as was the heat in the bars. I assumed they had air conditioning but
with that many bodies swaying side to side, the heat rose quickly. I was
relieved that I wore a dress.
During their set at the
second bar, I met Nate, a bartender at Drew’s bar who came to find Drew to let
him know the fire department had been called about the capacity limit being
met.
Drew left to talk with
the fire chief and made Nate stay and keep an eye on me. Nate was not good
company. He was energetic, loud mouthed and full of all kinds of crazy. He had
a smile I could resist though and had me laughing at everything he said.
With the thick crowd
near the stage, it was hard not to be close to him. I didn’t think anything
over it when a few guys got rowdy in front of us and I was pushed into him,
Nate immediately righted my position to keep me from falling. He smiled when my
eyes caught his and thanked him, always smiling. I tried not to pay too much
attention to him knowing what Dylan’s reaction would be.
Megan found me again
after that, which I was relieved by. I really didn’t want Dylan seeing me
standing with Nate.
“Hey girl.”
Megan bright green
eyes were bloodshot and tired. Poor girl was worn out running back and forth
between the three bars. “Fuck, this is a nightmare. Drew is all kinds of tossed
over there.”
Tossed?
Tossed in my mind meant
drunk or high, at least that’s the word Dylan used it for. “You mean high?”
She gave me a funny
look. “No, I mean stressed out. He’s nervous. Drew doesn’t get high anymore,
it’s not his thing.”
“Oh, right.” I knew
that. Dylan had told me he
laid
off the drugs
completely these days.
I had already added so
much more to my vocabulary around Dylan and now Drew but it was strange how
many different meanings all these words had.
“Should we go help?” I
looked around the bar over the throngs of people to see the guys shuffling off
the stage
with a four or five girls
following them.
Sighing I turned back to Megan, “I’ll come with you.”
“Okay.” She grabbed my
wrist. “Where’s Nate?”
“I’m here!” he shouted
through the thick mass of bodies all pushing toward the entrance to get to the
final bar.
All three of us walked
the four blocks to Drew’s bar where the first band was already setting up for
their
set,
the drummer took a seat at the drums.
I helped Nate and Megan
set everything up,
take
the cover at the door and
eventually take drink orders. I hadn’t seen Dylan since the last bar and when I
saw him take the stage, he was drunk. I was sure of that.
Dylan and the boys
started with a few
Powerman
5000 songs to get the
crowd amped, as if they needed it and that’s when I could tell he was drunk.
His mood before was lively but now he seemed a little more on edge, vulnerable
but relaxed if that made sense.
I had my fair share of
drinks too. Megan was convinced I needed them but I think she was just trying
to keep me and her both calm.
Dylan caught my eye
every once in a while, every time his expression was something I couldn’t
place. His mood was off.
As I sat in the corner
with Nate, Megan and Drew near us, the music darkened, a slow base filled the
bar. I looked up to the stage that was dimly lit, Reece had his head down,
beating a slow rhythm that seemed mysterious and the intro something a lot
darker than they had played the rest of the night.
I immediately looked to
the stage to see Dylan. He was standing near the microphone, no light on him,
completely shadowed. He gripped the base tightly, his body swaying, slightly
rocking from one foot to the other.
As the music went into
a riff, his eyes found the audience but he kept his head bent forward, almost
more menacing that way. Through the shadows, I saw that ice blue that could
give you chills and tingles at the same time.
As the music sped, his
voice became louder to the point where he was practically screaming.
Looking at him now, I’d
never seen him play like this before, so dark, so angry. He had an intensity
that seemed ever darker than the lyrics to the song. He rocked from side to
side throughout the third verse, his hand tight on the microphone, one in his
pocket.
Across the table from
me, Nate stood and smiled down at me when the song changed to something more
upbeat and dance worthy. Drew even got Megan out there to shake her ass a
little. I danced mostly with her and tried to stay away from Nate. He was
flirty and had a cute face. I needed to stay away from him. I knew exactly what
Dylan’s reaction would have been.
But the thing was, Nate
was drunk, I knew that. And I was feeling the music Dylan was screaming on
stage, Crazy Bitch. I loved the song and the fact that he was singing, dancing
around, holding a microphone so close to his lips I wished it was my body he
was squeezing.
Nate touched me,
reaching for my arm. Pulling me close, I finally understood what his intentions
were but I couldn’t move away. Fear maybe, I don’t know.
Stupidity?
I don’t think he knew
that I was with Dylan so I told him, “I’m with Dylan.”
He smiled, always
smiling, and pulled me closer, we both laughed when our chins bumped together
at the close proximity. “He doesn’t have to know.”
Leading Nate on was not
my intention at all. He was
warm,
I was feeling the
song, wanting arms around me but not wanting Nate’s. He was warm but not the
warmth I was used to. While now, all I smelled was whiskey and beer, I wanted
the smells of summer grass and sun and the boy I knew so well.
Alcohol and jealousy
could do unexpected things to your actions and intentions. I knew that now.
When Nate’s mouth found my neck and then jaw and finally my lips, at some point
during the song, I didn’t move. Frozen in time, I couldn’t believe what I was
allowing.
Nate didn’t let me
react knowing his chance was now. My heart was screaming, telling me I was
being stupid but my body didn’t react. When his tongue found mine, I reacted
and pushed him away but not soon enough for the damage to be done.
“Bailey!” Drew screamed
over the crowd but it was too late.
When I turned around
and looked back at Drew who called my name, I found that the conversations
around us had silenced, music stopped and eyes had darted to me, and Nate, and
his hold on me.
Stupidity.
Young stupidity could destroy a lot of things.
Dylan must have seen.
Indifferent, and I
should have known
,
Nate crossed his arms over his
chest before he looked over at me. His eyes skipped to the stage. They passed
by mine and locked over my shoulder. That’s when his posture changed from indifferent
to guarded. His hands dropped and fisted, preparing, glaring, and anticipating.
I couldn’t see through
all of the commotion but I heard it. A chair was thrown, bodies shoved, glass
breaking, the silence no longer and yelling replacing it as if someone was
trying to hold someone back. I knew that someone. When I looked at the stage,
Dylan wasn’t up there any longer, his guitar broken on the stage with Reece and
Eddy scrambling to chase after him.
“Dylan,” Drew warned.
“Back the fuck up! Don’t do this in my fucking bar man.”
Nate looked back at me.
He was smug now and not the smiling boy I had spent most of the night around.
“Your boy must have seen.”
Deceitful
liars.
When the crowd fell
apart, I saw Dylan with Drew, Reece and Eddy shouting in his ear with their
hands on his shoulders, but Dylan kept shaking them away. Dylan stepped past
Eddy, who grabbed him, moving him aside as his eyes remained locked with mine,
deep and dark, and blue smoke that could incinerate you.
Dylan was breathing
through his nose, working hard to get his boys off his back. Getting one arm
free, he moved forward until Eddy got firm grasp his shirt.
“If you love her, don’t
do this,” Drew said low and smooth but I heard. He knew I heard. He quickly followed
with. “Don’t do this in my bar man.”
The crowd around us
pressured him, yelling, rowdy and ready for what they knew Dylan was about to
do. They wanted it.
Nate pushed past me but
I was standing between them. Reece grabbed me pulling me into him, his arms
holding mine to the side protectively. “Let me go Reece, please.”
“No,” Reece said over
my shoulder keeping me wrapped in his embrace, “just stay back Bailey. Don’t
you think you’ve done enough?”
“Shut up.”
With me and Reece
arguing, Nate and Dylan were now standing facing, breathing heavy,
speaking
lowly to each other.
Just like the kiss, I
watched, unable to move, when Dylan reached for Nate.
Just like the kiss, I
watched inflicting pain and enduring pain. Every blow Dylan gave, he took one
but what Nate didn’t notice, or anyone else in the bar was the years of anger
behind Dylan’s fists. Years of regret, disappointment, waiting, watching,
wanting, deciding, anger, hurt, neglect, it was all behind him inflicting pain.
The crowd reacted to
each hit, each cut, and each harsh word, cheering, and then silenced by another
blow.
What they didn’t notice
was the shift in Dylan as the fight turned from a bar brawl to something more,
something unstoppable, something deadly if not stopped. They soon noticed and
grew quiet, curious as to when the change happened and why.
Eddy looked to Reece,
they exchanged a look and then Drew shook his head, he too noticing a
difference in Dylan and wondering if now
was a good time to
step in
.
But no one moved. Not
even Drew.
Drew knew that once
Dylan got like this, nothing could bring him back down. Part of me thought I
could but then again, I didn’t know for sure. I was the reason behind this
fight.
“Please Reece,” I
begged twisting in his embrace to face him, “let me go!”
His eyes shifted from
me to Dylan, considering that might be the answer.
Reece struggled but
when Drew gave him the nod, he let me go.
Stepping forward, the
crowd parted slightly but not nearly enough for me to get to them.
Nate was fighting his
way out from beneath Dylan. His eye was bruising, nose and lips bleeding. Raw
knuckles and ripped shirt, he fought hard, trying to gain leverage but never
fully seeking it. Dylan was all over him, raging as the fight inside sparked.
Dylan would fight until
he had nothing left.
Nate got to his feet,
pulling his shirt off and throwing it aside, his body hunched and prepared for
what Dylan intended on finishing. “Come on, motherfucker,” Nate instigated.
“Get up! Come on! You’re not so much of a fucking badass now, are you?”