Convincing Constance (The Blow Hole Boys) (3 page)

Before the first chord sounded I knew exactly what song we were playing. The song that hurt the most—the one that was written for me during one of my dad’s coke binges.
“Constance Insanity.” Even the first chord broke my heart.

I put my head down and dug my fingers into the strings. I’d played the song so many times in my life that I didn’t even have to think about the melody. I didn’t have to think about anything but the pain that dug into my chest every time I struck the chords. Why
, of all the hundreds of Black Daze songs we could have played, did they have to choose the one that burned me?

It brought back memories of the times I’d spent with the band when I wasn’t in school. Of all the times I sat with Lionel, the lead guitarist, as he taught me how to play. Beating on the drums with Kid whenever he’d let me near his set, which wasn’t often.

I learned a lot from the guys of Black Daze, including how to take shots when I was fifteen. I had some good memories, but with the good came the bad, and when it came to teaching me things, Jack, the bass player, and also my mom’s new fuck buddy, showed me things I never wanted to learn from him. Things that involved his filthy hands and secrets that I was never supposed to tell.

Those secrets molded me into the cold bitch I’d become—the girl that no one knew, the girl that never let anyone close. The girl that felt like crying every time she even heard the chords of a Black Daze song. He’d ruined me—made me afraid of life and the people in it, and I’d never forgive him or forget… never.

The crowd went wild when the song ended. I handed over the guitar and hugged the lead singer before stepping down and heading straight for the back of the bar. I needed to get home. I wanted to get away from the smells, the sounds—the memories.

“Damn, that girl can play.” Leo laughed into the mic. “The apple don’t fall far when it comes to that one.”

The noise of the band and the crowd melted behind me the closer I got to the door. I was almost out when someone grabbed me by the arm, stopping me. I looked over with my fist tight, ready to swing.

“Can I have a word with you?”
the stranger asked.

The colored lights above him shined across his bald head
, making it sparkle. I looked into a pair of beady eyes covered with thick black glasses as I grabbed his fingers and twisted them so he’d release me.

“Get your fucking hands off of me or I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you
,” I said with a growl.

He held
up his hands in defeat. “Woah. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. My name’s Gary Steele. I work for Music Line. I really enjoyed your solos. I was curious if you’d be interested in playing for a few of my colleagues?”

Music Line my ass. Why would anyone from a massive label be in a shithole like Icehouse?

I looked down at him since I was at least a foot taller and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know exactly what kind of play your colleagues are into, and I say hell no.”

I turned to walk away before he stopped me again with a gentler hand.

“Seriously, dude, do you like the taste of your own balls?” I said as I snatched my arm away.

He shook his head with a smile. “Please. Take my card. If you decide you’re interested in playing music, give me a call.”

I took his card and read his name on the top under the Music Line logo. By the time I looked up, all I could see was his back as he left the bar.

Sure, I loved playing. And I knew I was damn good at it, but it was something I did for me. I had no interest in being in a band or playing for people. My guitar and the songs I played were for me and me only. It was my therapy.

It was a lonely drive back to the apartment. I told the girls I was leaving, but they were too worried about getting to know the band. Maybe it was because I was raised around musicians, but they did nothing for me. Although, in my defense, I hadn’t really met a guy who did.

Men were animals who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Why would I consciously put myself in a predicament where I was with one all the time? Screw relationships with a big rubber dildo as far as I was concerned.

I was asleep when the girls came falling into the apartment. Without a care for me, they turned up the music. It wasn’t long before I could hear Leo and Rick’s familiar voices mingled in with Shay and KC’s. The girls were determined to get in with the band, and I guess they did.

Creeping out of bed, I went to my bedroom door and locked it before climbing beneath the covers. I had to start job
-hunting the next day, and I needed as much sleep as I could get. I appreciated the girls letting me stay with them, but I silently prayed I could find a job that let me afford my own place.

Two weeks later, I still
had no job, and Shay and KC were on my ass about rent money. I was screwed and tattooed, and as badly as I wanted to sink into a depression, I knew I had to keep going. There was no fallback plan and no one to catch me.

Knowing I had no money to pay rent, I went in my room and started packing up my meager belongings. My dad was probably rolling over in his grave, and my mom was rolling over Jack. My life sucked dirty dick.

Digging through my things, I came across the card from Gary Steele of Music Line. The card felt like a five-pound weight in my palm. As much as I loved music and playing it, I never wanted to make a job out of it. I saw what happened to musicians, and I’d always sworn I’d never go down that path.

My stomach rumbled as I lugged all my stuff out to my car. The girls were still sleeping, but they’d figure out I was gone soon. It wasn’t like we didn’t see each other every weekend anyway.

The gas light on my car turned on as soon as I pulled out of the parking spot. I had five dollars in my pocket and I had to decide what needed filling more, my gas tank or my stomach. I definitely needed gas if I wanted to get anywhere, and as hungry as I was, I wasn’t going to run back to my mom.

As much as I hated it, I knew what I had to do. Putting my last five dollars in my car, I looked down at the Music Line business card and got their address. I could only pray that the tiny bit of gas I put in my car would get me there, and I hoped like hell that Gary Steele was true to his word. I played music, and he wanted me to play. If all went well
, he could help me out. It was a job, it made money, and I needed money more than I needed my pride.

The hospital hallway was long
, and it seemed like sounds of suffering spilled from every doorway I passed. I fucking hated hospitals. The smells, the sounds, just the feeling of being there made me panic. It brought back memories that I wanted to forget. Memories that woke me from my sleep in a sweat.

The waiting room at the end of the hall was painted in happy colors. Like anyone who was sitting in the room
, waiting, would be happy. Hospitals usually meant bad things. At least it did for me.

I spotted my boy, Finn, across the room. He was sitting with his head back
, staring at the ceiling with sleepy eyes and day-old clothes on. Worry was etched into his features. As the front man of our band, Blow Hole, Finn had a lot on his shoulders. While the rest of us spent our time partying way too hard, Finn always had his head in the game.

I walked past a guy in a wheelchair that smelled like piss and slid through a row of chairs toward Finn.

“How is he?” I asked.

My voice shook and I knew I should’ve taken one more Valium before coming.

“He’ll live. His hand’s fucked, but we’ll worry about that later. Where’s Chet?”

Zeke, our lead guitarist, had been hit by a car. It was only right that I was there for him, but the longer I sat in the hospital
, the sicker I felt.

“He’s around. Last time I saw him he was hitting on the nurse at the front desk.” I sat in the chair next to Finn and stretched out my long legs. “It’s going to be okay, dude. We’ve been through worse
,” I said in an attempt to sooth Finn’s stress.

“Yeah, I know, but right in the middle of this massive tour. I’ve already called the label. We’re going to have to cancel the rest of the dates. We have to get our boy better and back to playing.”

We were friends before anything else, and I was glad Finn felt the same way. The band was important, but not as important as one of our boys. Zeke would feel the same way had it been one of us.

When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, I stood quickly and adjusted the chains hanging from my jeans.

“Look, man, I want to be supportive and shit, but this place is killing me,” I said, and again, my voice shook.

If anyone understood my crazy fear of hospitals
, it was Finn. He’d been there. He’d seen what I went through. He knew about my panic attacks and nightmares and he was man enough to keep those secrets for me. It made me appreciate him even more.

“I know. Get the hell out of here. You look like you’re about to pass out. I’ll call you if anything changes.” He
laid his head back on the headrest of the chair and closed his eyes, and I walked away.

Again, the hallways felt like they were closing in on me, and I didn’t breathe again until I was outside. I fucking hated the weakness that lived in me
. It hovered just below all the muscle I’d built up over the years.

Instead of going back to the condo, I went to the gym. It was the place I went when I felt the fear of the past consuming me. I wasn’t sure if there was such a thing as being addicted to working out, but I was. It all started after my accident. Learning to walk again was hell, but the hospital gym was the only place in the entire building I could stand to be in more than ten minutes.

I’d worked my ass off, rebuilding the muscles in my legs and abs until I was able to move without help. The pain was still there. As a matter of fact, working out still hurt like hell depending on what I was doing, but when that happened, I had the pills to take it all away.

It was a never
-ending cycle that I was sure was going to crush me at some point, but until then, I worked my ass off until I didn’t feel anything anymore, and when I did feel something, I squashed it with Lortab or any other pain pill I could find. I played my bass guitar for Blow Hole until my fingers ached, and then I’d drink my night away until I passed out. I did it all again the next day. Never-ending cycles blew, but they worked.

Later that night, I went back to an empty condo, took a shower, and crashed. As soon as my eyes closed, the nightmares started.

The smell of burning flesh, blood, and burnt rubber woke me from death like an ammonia capsule being held under my nose. My stomach rolled at the pungent smells.

I had no idea how long I’d been out, but I could remember seeing headlights and hearing the crunch of the car around me. It all happened so fast, and having a drunk driver didn’t help.

Everything around me was silent.

Then somewhere close
, someone gasped for their final breath. I wanted to reach out to the sound, but my arm was pinned beneath something.

A cough escaped my sore lungs and a sharp pain cut through me. I gasped when the air was sucked out of me from the pain. Then I couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt, but all I
could focus on was trying to breathe.

Thick silence sliced into the night
, making the sound of my fading heartbeat even louder in my ears. I pleaded for the sound of a voice—anyone who was in the car with me. I just needed to hear that someone else was alive, but the silence stretched into the darkness until all I could hear was the strangled sound of my own breathing.

I wanted to move, but I was stuck. There was a tingle in my arms and chest, but from the waist down there was nothing. Reaching down for my legs, I felt my jeans beneath my fingertips. Something warm and sticky coated my hand and I knew it was my own blood.

Panic rushed through me, but I could do nothing but lie there and hope someone, anyone, found me.
Far away, I heard sirens, and then bright lights shone in, letting me see I was upside down and someone’s bloody arm was lying in front of my face. A female arm, one with a pretty silver bracelet—Amanda. She was the only girl in the car with myself, Kevin, and Reynolds.

I gasped again.

Then there was so much noise it made my ears hurt. People were calling out orders. The car jerked and the loud sound of a saw filled the night. Again, a bright light flashed into the wreckage, allowing me to see the faces of the others in the car. The ripped flesh and blood marked my memories and then the world went black. Everything was silent.

I sat up
, panting and grabbing for the light next to my bed. The darkness was closing in on me and taking all the oxygen out of the room.

Once the light was on, I fell from my bed and went to the bathroom. I ran cold water into the sink and scooped up big handfuls to toss onto my burning face.

I spent the rest of that night on the hard tile floor, staring at the wall in front of me. It wasn’t until the three pills I took made it into my system that I was able to fall asleep against the bathroom cabinet.

“So the label’s sending over
a replacement guitarist to finish the tour with us. You okay with that, Zeke?” Finn asked.

He passed a blunt my way and I took a few hits from it before giving it to Chet. The room was
smoky. We’d spent most of the night celebrating Zeke getting out of the hospital.

“Yeah, man. We have to finish this tour. The fans, the money, all of it. Promises have been made, and I’m not going to be the reason they get broken. I’m okay with it.” He put his head down and sighed. “I wish like hell my hand wasn’t fucked up, though. I want to play. I miss that shit already.”

I knew how he felt. I didn’t touch my guitar for months after my accident. It was hell. It was beyond hell. Especially when you used playing as your sense of relief. Zeke would need relief more than ever, and he wouldn’t be able to get it.

At least he had his girlfriend, Patience. She was good for him. I watched from afar as she turned him into a better man, and while I envied him for that, I knew I wasn’t any good for anyone—physically or mentally.

Women were beautiful creatures that were an enigma to me. For years I’d watched from the sidelines as the boys filled their time with different women. Even though they thought I did, I never joined in on their fun. I couldn’t. No woman deserved what I had to offer. They were much too sweet and soft for a man like me. A man who was so blocked from any emotion that I couldn’t feel anything good.

An hour later, Zeke’s pain pills kicked his ass and he left the room. Patience followed behind him, although I sensed trouble in paradise for those two. It was in the way they looked at each other. Usually it was all sweet and stomach turning, but since Zeke’s accident, they had tension between them that was so thick I could stand on it.

“Fuck, I’ll get that. Y’all spray something,” Finn said when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll spray something. I’ll spray my load on his face
,” Chet slurred as he melted into the couch.

My eyes were closed when I heard a female voice. I didn’t bother opening them. Girls were my last concern.

“We got company, assholes.”

When I opened my lids, she was there. She looked over me with uninterested green eyes. It wasn’t often that a girl who was around us looked uninterested. Chet was for sure going to eat that shit up. He loved a challenge just as much as the next guy.

She had hot-pink highlights woven throughout her hair and piercings that reflected in the sun coming through the window. Tattoos covered her arms and all the important areas of a woman’s body. They made me wonder what else she had hiding under her fishnet stockings and schoolgirl skirt. Her knee-high boots squeaked when she sat on the couch across from me.

I tried not to look, but the bright-pink bra she wore beneath her fishnet top was so sexy I couldn’t control the hard
-on that was filling my jeans. She was hardcore—a rocker girl with the piercings and attitude to match—and I liked it. Liking a girl was no good and feeling the attraction toward her pissed me off. I didn’t have time for bullshit like that.

I didn’t think it could get any worse, but when she pulled out her guitar and I watched her finger that thing like her best orgasm depended on it, it got a hell of a lot worse. It took a long time, but I’d finally found a woman who turned me on like no other.