Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star)
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Authors: J. P. Grider
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense
Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star)
by
J.P. Grider
Published by Julianne P. Grider
Ebook Edition
Copyright 2011 J.P. Grider
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any person, place or thing is purely coincidental.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedicated to my husband, Johnny
Table of Contents
It is commonly assumed that if you have achieved stardom, you have acquired nirvana. Yet at the end of the red carpet, I found no Oz. No wizard to grant me all things necessary. Pride. Certainty. Purpose. Love. No. Not for me. The abundance of fame and of fortune had found me void of anything else. Celebrity brought with its glamor, loneliness, emptiness, dejection.
But my father would beg to differ. In his eyes, I was given the world. I have been nothing but a spoiled prodigy, born with a silver microphone in my hand.
Born to stardom. Die of it.
My celebrity may have alluded to a path illuminated with heavenly pleasures, but in reality, it brought me straight to Hell.
My name is Tagg Holland. And I used to be a rock star.
*************
“Forget it, Auggie. I’m not doing the concert and you sure as hell aren’t taking over as goddamned lead singer...of MY band.” I threw my cell phone across the room, and into my fricking flat screen TV. Shattering both.
Fricking Auggie. And he wonders why I don't call him Dad. All he does is threaten me or pull rank.
His disdain for me, his only son, was a reality I grew accustomed to during my thirty-eight years under his thumb. He made it apparent in every action he took or word he said against me. I may have been a compatriot in the rock arena, but I could never match the august rush that Augustus Holland commandeered. His allure was his amulet; mine, my curse. And, dear old dad never failed to call attention to the fact that I was never up to task. Me. Tagg Holland. Failed to live up to the warped standards of perfection that my rock and roll father had established.
He should have known how I would feel about doing a reunion concert. Holland was part of my past. A past I’d rather not visit any time soon. We haven’t played together in seven years. Hell, I haven’t even seen any of the band in close to that many years. I’ve barely seen anyone besides my mom and Auggie. I have gone into hiding pretty much since the incident in 2003. Life pretty much sucked for me these days and I prayed for the day it would end. Nothing but non-existence could erase the memories so deeply etched in my mind that they not only threatened to weaken my structural being, they’d actually succeeded. No longer did I want to, nor could I, find the strength. My only thoughts were to find a way out. Let loose this sad excuse for a life. I needed to pull the plug on Tagg Holland and cease to be. I could no longer stand the man who had custody of my soul; he lacked integrity, he failed at loyalty and he sucked at living a life of principle. I’d longed for self-respect for many years, but found self-deception instead. And, I’d longed for true-happiness, a veracious sense of contentment, but discovered self-destruction. Happiness was not a way of life I deserved anymore. That should be enjoyed by people who were genuinely good. I was not.
My days were spent drinking, eating and wallowing in my own remorse. I couldn’t even tell you what day it was anymore; they all seemed to run into each other. I’d drink, sleep, eat, drink, wallow, drink, pass-out and not necessarily in that order. Those were my days and that is who I had become. I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. The paunchy man with the long straggly hair, equally long and unkempt beard and miserable eyeglasses bore no resemblance to Tagg Holland, the American rock idol with the long brown hair, professionally primped with streaks of bleach blond and the lean, toned body of one who paraded on stage almost daily. My once bright blue eyes had even dulled to a grayish cast. No. I did not see any familiarities between the two Tagg’s. There was no way, physically, I’d be ready to perform again, never mind mentally. Auggie would just have to get over it or return to his own role as infernal rock god. I did miss singing, though. I don’t even know what my voice would sound like if I tried. What the hell was I doing even thinking about it? Reminiscing only made my situation worse. Did I miss my past, or was I better off without it? Could I be led back into Hell? I was living it now anyway. Or, could I reappear in the spotlight, somehow rising above the debauchery.
In contemplating my uncertainty, I found myself drifting back to 1992…
“Tagg, can you believe it? We’re headlining our own show, man. I knew this day would come. Aren’t you excited, man?”
“Yeah, Ronnie. We made it, man. The big time. The Continental Arena, man.” This was awesome. I high-fived Ronnie, my main man. My lead guitarist, Ronnie Fontane. Here we were, getting ready to run up those stairs to the stage that stood before 20,000 fans. Most of ‘em girls. Young girls, old girls, tough girls, good girls and our band’s favorite type – girls who put out. Even good girls were willing to put out if we’d asked. That’s how great our rock band Holland was; even good girls didn’t mind losing their virginity to one of us. Holland was hot, and I was their lead singer, Tagg Holland. That’s right. My name was the band’s name. It was my band and I let everyone know it, too. My mom was Kenya Taggart the Oscar Winning Movie Actress and my dad was Augustus Holland, singer/songwriter/bad-ass. I’ve been in the spotlight since I was born. This lifestyle was a natural for me, but for Ronnie it wasn’t; he was from the other side of the tracks. We met at summer camp when we were ten years old and we have been best buds since. So Ronnie, I considered him my equal. Holland wouldn’t be great without my genius guitar player. The girls loved him just as much as they loved me, and we were high on life. We were at the beginning of what we believed would be the best decade we’d ever know.
“It’s time, man. Ya ready?” Ronnie asked me.
“Yeah, man. I’m ready. Let’s do this.” My heart was pounding liking a five year old on Christmas morning, but the adrenaline rushing through my body was an experience I wasn’t about to give up. It felt good. I was riding on my own coattails now, not my parents’ and no one could take that away from me. We ran up those stairs leading to that stage and we rocked.
*******
“Oh man, Tagg. That was awesome. Did you see all those girls?” Ronnie said breathlessly running back down underneath the stage.
“Ronnie, man, that’s only just the beginning. Wait ‘til you see who’s in our dressing rooms. You ain’t ever gonna wanna stop bein’ a rock star, man.” I couldn’t wait. We were the main gig, so we got the extra hot ladies waiting for us. I was used to that type being around the house, with my dad and all. He always brought home lots of women. That’s why mom divorced him. He couldn’t keep it in his pants, if you know what I mean. But mom was okay with that. Once she had left my dad, you couldn’t keep the handsome actors away from her. Kenya Taggart flourished when she wasn’t tied down to the controlling, possessive and double-standard ways of Auggie Holland.
“Oh yeah, Tagg. How could I forget about those benefits? I could die happy living this way; singing on stage, partying all night, the women. Man, you think we’ll ever get sick of this?
“Probably not.” Just then my assistant handed me a towel so I could wipe the sweat off my face. “Thanks, Kim.”
“No problem Tagg. Hey by the way, I have a little girl and her mom waiting back stage. Her mom won a radio contest so that her daughter could meet you. The contest said she’d get to come back stage and meet you after the concert. So, Tagg, be nice.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with.” This was just great. Our first headlining show, I’m all excited about the chicks and now I have to meet a kid. Oh well, the price of fame I guess.
The sounds of partying were audible from where I was standing in the hallway, but I couldn’t join them backstage just yet. I was following Kim to the room where I was to meet one of my very youngest fans. As I was daydreaming about the women I’d be hanging with tonight, Kim nudged me in the side. She added a little cough to get my attention. “Tagg Holland, I’d like you to meet Mara Giordano and her mom, Caroline.”
I held out my hand to little Mara so that we could shake, but she seemed to be too nervous. “Hi Mara, it’s so nice to meet you. Did you enjoy the show?”
Nothing. Mara just looked up at me with wide Hershey Kiss looking eyes and a bright red, flushed little round face. Her mom stepped in to fill in the awkward silence. “I’m sorry Mr. Holland, my daughter is quite shy, but I could definitely speak for her when I say she thoroughly enjoyed your concert. She’s only fourteen, but she has been following your music since she first saw your video of ‘She’s My Only’ on M-TV. She has posters of you on every wall. I could just imagine now that your second album hit number one, that I’ll be buying her even more ‘Holland’ merchandise. Anyway, Mr. Holland, thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”
“No problem, Mrs. Giordano, it was my pleasure.” Then I looked down at little Mara and kissed her on the forehead. “Bye Mara, it certainly was nice to meet you.” I couldn’t believe it, but her eyes got even bigger and even more chocolaty. It really was nice meeting her. The love in her eyes seemed almost unconditional. I couldn’t explain it, but this little girl was in awe of me; not like the girls who were waiting in my dressing room, willing to give it all to me just to say they had. No, young Mara was happy just standing there looking at me. It was sort of surreal; I’d never even be able to put it into words.
I went back to the backstage party and Ronnie had already picked out a girl for me. She was nice-looking, like they all were, but she lacked anything significant - all superficial. Big hair, big boobs, lots of makeup. But she was ready and she was willing and I wasn’t complaining. By the end of the night, I was drunk and I was spent and ready to go get some real sleep before it all started up again tomorrow. I was excited for that, but I wondered if it would all get too old too fast.
I was right.
It did get old. Fast. After that first concert in 1992, Holland had rocketed to number one. By 2001, Holland had remained the number one rock band for ten years. Writing new songs, recording them and performing on stage were definitely what I was born to do, but the partying that Ronnie lived for was just getting to prove too much. At twenty-nine years old, I felt too old to be doing that anymore. Thankfully, I met Crystal Cummings, a beautiful, sensitive, top movie actress. She was a few years younger than me and was very serious about her career. Crystal didn’t party. She was wrapped up in memorizing her lines for whatever movie she was starring in, or studying to be a better actress. I met her at the movie premiere for ‘Invincible;’ Crystal had top billing and Holland wrote and performed the music for the soundtrack. Crystal and I hit it off right away and began dating immediately. She represented everything I wanted to be as a rock star – serious and no-nonsense. I could honestly say I learned a lot from her. It was because of Crystal that I had matured as a person. After only six months of dating, I had asked Crystal to marry me. She said yes and three months later we were married on the beach at Long Beach Island. Our marriage was a joyful one, albeit when our schedules allowed for time together. Either Crystal was shooting on location somewhere, or I was on tour with the band. We probably had a total of sixty days out of the year to be together. But we enjoyed each other’s company when we had those days. When we weren’t together, I would like to say I was faithful to our marriage vows, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t like I couldn’t hold out for sex until I saw Crystal again, but the lifestyle of a rock star wasn’t too conducive to fidelity, especially being around Ronnie. He always had a different woman with him and seemed happy to be in non-committed relationships. After a show, in whatever city we were playing, I would resign to my hotel room while Ronnie hung out with the ‘groupies.’ There were times, though, that I didn’t feel like going to sleep or being alone, and I found myself letting Ronnie talk me into hooking up with some desperate, though beautiful, woman. I wasn’t proud of this, in fact, I was a disappointment to myself, but I seemed to find myself an adulterer on more than a few occasions. I didn’t feel good about this, but never worse than I felt after the night Crystal found me in our bed, with another woman.
***
Sometime during my reverie of the past, I heard the key turn in the doorknob. It had to be Mom. Dad, at least, rang the bell before busting in uninvited.
“Tagg, are you up, dear?” Mom was always chipper. Even when I’d ask her not to be, she would ignore me and flitter through my house. I didn’t live in my huge beach house down in Somers’ Point anymore; I still owned it though. I had to move when the paparazzi wouldn’t leave me alone. I bought a small lake house on Lake Mohawk in Sparta. The seclusion, all the surrounding trees had allowed, provided me with the privacy I needed from the grim reality that had become my life.
“Hey, Mom. I’m up. Come on in.”
“Tagg, look at you. Don’t you think it’s about time you got over this? It’s been more than seven years. You can’t keep reliving the past, baby. It’s time to move on. Your agent contacted me; he says they’re looking to get the band back together. Holland made history eighteen years ago, sweetie; the public wants them back.”
“I don’t want them back, Mom. I couldn’t bear it.”
“I know this is hard on you baby, but Crystal’s death was not your fault.”
“Not my fault? What’re you crazy? If she didn’t find me cheating on her in our bed, she’d have never taken off in the car like that. The cops said she was going ninety miles an hour down that road. Mom, it is my fault. Don’t you see? The media saw it. That’s why they were hounding me so much. Didn’t you read all the newspapers and magazines?” Just then I pulled out, from underneath the end table in my living room, all of the publications that exploited that tragic night that ended my wife’s life, more than seven years ago. I kept them close by so that I could reference them any time I had started to feel just the tiniest bit good about myself. I didn’t deserve to feel good, so I would promptly bring myself back down by reading and reliving the horror. Crystal had been out of state filming one of her current projects, and I was kind of bored sitting around at home by myself. Holland wasn’t recording anything at the time and our tour dates hadn’t been finalized. Ronnie had stopped over and asked me to go to some club in New York City that he’d been frequenting. I usually stayed away from places like that; all of the eager females hanging around Ronnie and me had grown a bit tiresome. Ronnie enjoyed it, but I had grown bored with it a long time ago. That’s why I was so ready to settle down with Crystal when I met her. I had liked the predictability of hanging out eating pizza and watching movies with my wife; of course, when she’d be home.