Chapter 65

"Can I get you something to drink, Alex? Dinner's just about ready."

"Uh, yeah. Please."

"We have Coke, Diet Coke, grape soda, orange soda, apple juice. Any of those things mixed with vodka. Or beer. Or, um, water, I guess."

He chuckled a bit. "As interesting as vodka and grape soda sounds, I'm good with water."

Yeah, it definitely wasn't a date. I poured him a glass of water and considered grabbing a beer for myself. Jimmy wasn't drinking, Alex wanted water... I sighed and grabbed a Diet Coke for myself.

Dinner was a simple curry with rice, yet another sign that I hadn't realized I'd asked Alex on a date. I just wanted to make something that wasn't covered in processed cheese or ketchup. My kitchen was small to begin with and the addition of the silent tension between Alex and Jimmy was making it feel unmanageably cramped. By the time I put their plates in front of them, I was seriously regretting agreeing to this.

The first few bites were taken in silence. I glanced at Jimmy.

Please just say whatever the fuck you wanted to say. Please.

I had to think it really hard at him a few more times before he finally put his fork down, took a breath, and steadied hands that I hadn't realized had been shaking.

"Leia played me a few of the songs she's learned," Jimmy started.

Ugh. He wanted to make small talk?

"I'm not getting into this with you," Alex replied.

"Look, dude, I just—"

"She's working her ass off, I'm doing the best I can. You got a problem with it, take it up with your sister, not me."

I tried not to react as he threw me under the bus, though I decided a second accidental-date was very unlikely as anger pricked through me.

"I'm trying to fucking apologize!" Jimmy blurted angrily. His face turned red, his jaw clenched as he fought back a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Alex stared at him silently.

Jimmy swallowed, looking down at the untouched plate of curry in front of him as he took a shaky breath.

"I mean, you probably saw. Maybe you didn't. I dunno. I'm not the flavor of the month anymore. I'm fucking nothing. Some dick wrote a couple articles about me, my label got pissed. I fucked up. I got nothing now."

He cleared his throat. The struggle of saying the words made it clear this was a shot to the heart for his pride.

"That Mike dude was right and I'm fucking sorry, okay? I'm sorry I lost my shit at you. Thanks for teaching Leia because I would've just fucked it up."

His voice cracked at the same time my heart did, though both of us tried not to show it. I pushed the curry around on my plate before risking a glance up at Alex.

His face was guarded. Jimmy's head was still bowed, the only sound the gentle scraping of my fork and the shaky breaths Jimmy was taking.

"You sober?" Alex finally asked.

"Three weeks," Jimmy mumbled. "Would've been four but..."

But he'd fallen off the wagon after the second article was put out, shaved his head while black-out drunk, and called me in the middle of the night. He'd been so incoherent that I had called Kelsie and begged her to watch Leia so I could go check on him. When I got there, he was puking in the bathroom, surrounded by piles of hair, only half-conscious.

To say I was worried about Jimmy was an understatement.

"Okay," Alex said. "I, uh, accept the apology."

Jimmy nodded, but a look of grudging humiliation crossed his face.

"Look, I know... you don't... I don't have the right. You know? I know that. But... can you help me?"

To say I was surprised was even more of an understatement. I knew Alex was important as far as the studio went, but had no idea what he could possibly do to help Jimmy. Did guys who ran studios usually help fallen rock stars?

Jimmy noticed the bewilderment on my face and looked at Alex, shocked.

"Wait, she doesn't..." He trailed off and shook his head, almost incredulous.

"I don't what?" I asked.

Both Alex and Jimmy ignored me as they made eye contact. Alex seemed to be studying Jimmy, and Jimmy could hardly hold his gaze. I suddenly longed for the moment when I thought the worst that would happen over this dinner was a pissing match.

"We can talk," Alex finally said. "Look, I'll... come by the studio next week. Monday afternoon."

"I'm banned—"

"You're unbanned, temporarily, and it won't take much to get re-banned so don't try any bullshit."

Jimmy nodded.

"I promise, man. I... you won't regret this."

"We'll see about that."

The rest of the dinner was slightly less awkward. Jimmy even ate heartily, the first time he'd finished his plate since before the article had been released. He was done before I'd eaten half of mine, though Alex wasn't far behind.

"Seconds?" I asked Jimmy, reaching for his plate.

He nodded. "Please."

I got up to fill his plate and when I returned, Alex had just finished his last bite.

"That was delicious," he said, putting his fork down. "Thanks, Em."

"Thank you for eating it without covering it in ketchup or cheese sauce. It was kind of nice cooking a grown-up meal. Do you want more?"

He shook his head. "I'm stuffed."

"Well, bad news. There's still a ton left and it's getting cold."

"Bad news, if I have another helping, Leon will definitely be getting larger."

I burst out laughing and shook my head as I sat down to finish my plate.

"Who's Leon?" Jimmy asked.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"From Airplane?"

"What's that?"

"It looks like a big Tylenol," I said.

"But that's not important right now," added Alex.

I snorted and Alex lost it, shaking his head as he laughed.

Jimmy looked confused but nodded, glancing between the two of us.

"It's a movie," I finally said.

"Must've been before my time," Jimmy said.

"You're coming over next weekend to watch it."

"Ugh, I don't wanna watch some old movie."

"Watch yourself, young whippersnapper." I laughed, but Alex didn't find Jimmy's quip quite as funny as I did.

Jimmy helped clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. I packed a spare Tupperware full of leftovers for him in spite of his protests, shoving it at him as he tried to leave without it.

"C'mon Em, I don't need—"

"At least I'll know you're eating," I whispered fiercely. I wasn't ignorant of the drawn look on his face.

"Emb—" He drew out my name, knowing exactly which button to push.

"Don't," I hissed. "Take the fucking Tupperware, Jimmy."

I won, and he took the leftovers as he left. After I closed the door behind him, I turned to Alex.

"I need to apologize—"

"Don't worry about it."

"I am worried about it." I folded my arms across my chest. "I didn't mean to like, trick you into coming over or anything. It wasn't... Jimmy just said he wanted to talk to you. I just, I didn't really think and—"

"Really, Em. It's fine."

It wasn't fine, obviously, but I sighed.

"Do you want a coffee or something? Or a... what do you call those after-dinner drinks? I don't have anything but we could test out that grape soda and vodka."

He laughed. "Coffee sounds great."

Despite how full of curry we were, we both agreed that a slice of cake with the coffee would be good. Instead of sitting back at the table, we went to the living room to sit on the couch.

"So, I actually wanted to run something by you," Alex said as he finished his cake.

"What's that?"

"It's—"

"I mean what do you mean," I laughed before he could say anything else. I tried not to melt as he grinned, more relaxed than he had been the rest of the evening.

"Well, Leia's getting pretty good. I mean, for the length of time she's been playing. I think she should perform."

The look on my face said everything.

"I meant a recital," he said hurriedly. "Like, with other students, performing for parents. Just to get a feel for it."

"Does she have to?"

"I mean, performing live helps them learn. It gives them instant feedback. It's exciting for them."

"Did you already tell Leia about this?"

"No. I wanted to run it by you first because I don't have any other students. I just know a guy who's putting together a small thing at the mall in a few weeks and she could play then."

I pressed my lips together. Leia was seven. Seven. Jimmy had been about the same age when he became obsessed with the guitar. By ten he was telling everyone he was going to be famous. He played Metallica constantly. Loud, angry, screaming music that covered the pain a little boy with shitty parents was going through.

"You don't know this, but Jimmy and I didn't have great parents," I said quietly. "I basically raised him. So him being kind of a dick is kind of on me. I had never been as worried about him as I was when his career was going well, and I've never been more worried about him than I am now. He's different. He's... Ever since those articles came out, he's been like a shell."

Alex shifted on the couch uncomfortably but said nothing.

"I don't want Leia going down that path."

"She won't," Alex said. "It's just a recital. And frankly, she's obsessed with Taylor Swift. Going from pop-country to metal would be... unlikely."

"Can I think about it?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"No, it is, and I need you to know how grateful we are."

"Em, I appreciate that, but it's not that big a deal."

"Yes, it is." I put my hand on his knee before he could speak again, hoping the sudden but fierce sincerity showed on my face. "For everything. I know how much guitar lessons cost. I know $25 an hour is basically nothing. You stay late with her every time, you keep giving her books and strings and just... I don't think you really know just how much she loves playing, and you don't understand how much it means to me."

The words hung in the air as Alex stared at me, and it was only when he glanced down at my hand that I realized I was still touching him. I chuckled awkwardly, pulling my hand back as I tried not to die of embarrassment.

"I just mean, thank you. And now you're doing this stuff for Jimmy."

"We're just gonna talk. I'm not saying for sure—"

"I know, but it's still... you're giving him a chance. I don't know why you're being so good to me but... I mean, if you ever need anything..."

I trailed off, a slow redness creeping up my cheeks. That awkward chuckle started again and I reached for my coffee cup to mask the way I was sliding back on the couch.

"Well, there is one thing..."

Oh, God. This accidental-date was going somewhere.

"Yeah?" I asked.

Alex looked at me, his eyes serious as he leaned forward slightly.

"Yeah. I'd still really like to know what Em is short for."

I nearly spilled my coffee as I laughed. When I looked back up, Alex was grinning again and I rolled my eyes.

"Really? You're gonna make me do this?"

"What? It's a simple question. Is it... Emily? Emma? Emerson?"

I shook my head.

"Emelia? No wait, that would be Am..."

"If I tell you, you have to promise me you won't laugh, you won't make jokes, you won't tell anyone else."

He looked serious again, eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Yeah, I promise."

"It's..." I sighed, shaking my head. "Ember."

"Amber?"

"No, Ember. Like a glowing coal. Ember."

"Makes sense," he said. "Explains why you can be so fier—"

"You just promised!"

He laughed, not unkindly, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Ember." The name rolled off his tongue, almost seductively smooth. "I like it. It suits you."

"Nobody calls me that anymore," I said.

"Can I call you Ember?"

Maybe it was because I liked the way he said my name, or maybe it was just because I really, really liked him. Before I knew what I was doing, some crazy part of me told him he could.

*****

Alex

"Oh, for... Mike, get the fuck down."

He was wearing his usual shorts and Hawaiian shirt and was up on a ladder poking around in the drop-ceiling in the snack room. His voice was muffled as he replied.

"What?"

"If you're going to wear baggy shorts and get on a ladder, I'm begging you, wear underwear. We play "Free Bird" here, we don't enact it. Nobody needs to see that shit."

He pulled back, took two steps down and looked at me. "Seriously? Didn't think about that. Sorry. It's all good. We're done."

Big Mike slipped the tile back in place and got off the ladder. He nodded grimly at me as if we were co-conspirators taking down Nixon. Jerking a thumb towards the ceiling, he continued. "Cameras. Right at the fridge. This shit ain't gonna stand."

"I'm gonna need a little more than that. What are you talking about?"

"Some son of a bitch stole my Thin Mints from the freezer. I was saving them. My last box. They're gonna try to play me like that? Gimmee a hand."

He headed off to his office and I followed him. He handed me some papers he'd printed out and some scotch tape.

"Hang these up around the place."

"When I check the cameras and see them returning the cookies, I'll have them."

"So, you're not gonna let it go if they return them?"

"Fuck no. The hell with that. What sort of dick steals cookies?"

"Did you run this by Lini?"

He was clearly irked by the question. "What, I need to ask permission to do shit in my studio?"

"No, I meant to have her type it up. There's a few... peculiar spellings."

"They get the point, right, smartass?"

"That you're a psycho? Yeah, probably."

"I'm tired a people walking all over me."

I doubt anyone's taken advantage of Big Mike since he was eight-years-old. He posted the fliers himself.

"Leia's uncle? Jimmy Reilly? I unbanned him. He's coming down today to talk."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let me know if you want me to deal with him."

"Thanks, but it's not gonna be a problem. Tell Lini?"

Going back to my office, I sat down and reread my articles about Jimmy and the rough drafts. Was I rough? Yeah. Was it all true? Also yeah. The main question was, was it deserved? I wasn't sure. He was a jackass, but music labels produce assholes at record rates. Why did I come down so hard on this one? Why hadn't I ever spoken out before? I wasn't too happy thinking that I had abused the small amount of power that I had.

Most of all, it bothered the hell out of me that Leia was so concerned about her uncle and I hadn't cared at all about what sort of an impact I might have. I'd dealt with a lot of shame in my time, more than enough for most people. To add to that seemed abhorrent. It took me more than a decade to even start to forgive myself for what I had done and now I jump back into being an uncaring, self-centered prick without a second thought.

I think that I may have hated Jimmy because he was me, or the me of 30 years ago. The me that was responsible for the death of his wife and son. The me I'd gladly kill, over and over again. I couldn't kill that me, but there was Jimmy; talented, sullen, drunken, shining Jimmy. So, I took that shine, took his career and took his self-respect.

Because of something I'd done three decades earlier.

So, I write two articles that helped break this kid down, I completely misread what that dinner was supposed to be and she's going to hate my guts as soon as she finds out that I was the writer with the poison pen. Fantastic. The worst part of it all is that once Jimmy left that next 90 minutes was some of the best I can remember in the past decade or so.

It's stupid, the age difference is huge, but it felt like we fit somehow. Em was... I don't know. I'm not a teenager. I'm not going to claim that she was perfect or that we were destined to be or something, but I really thought that something was there. Confirmation bias, I guess. She was sort of the best of both worlds. Stable, but edgy, responsible but fun and a good mom who has great taste in ink. What more could I want?

Enough. It was silly. I imagined something that wasn't there. Fine. Time to move on. I opened up the weekly summary from Lini and checked the scheduling. She did an excellent job of keeping the venue booked as much as possible with artists that were similar. Death metal and church choirs weren't the best matches. We had six large studios, two very large and five small. It could get busy and a bit close with lots of mandatory mixing.

Lini knocked and then popped her head in. Then she verbally said, "knock-knock". It was a weird habit of hers.

"Knock, knock, boss. Mr. Reilly is here to see you?"

"Yeah, fine. Thanks, Lini. Jimmy, c'mon in."

He sort of slouched in and sat down opposite me.

"Water? I've gotta mini-fridge."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Okay. So, let's just assume that we were both having a bad day when we met and we got off on the wrong foot. Why don't you tell me where you'd like to be professionally and how you think I could help you get there. If I like what you're saying, maybe we can work something out."

"Right. Uhm, I'm not sure where to start, to be honest. I guess... You know Gary Clark Jr.? I mean, not know him, know him, but you're familiar? I want something like what he has going on. He's respected, man. You know? He plays these festivals and he puts out his albums and he does fine and shit, but the people that know? They really fucking know. The average guy at the mall probably doesn't know who he is, but I do, you do, the right people do. That's what I want."

"That's... respectable. Hard to believe, but respectable. He's not in the tabloids, he's not tossing couches off hotel room balconies like it's 1985, he's not insisting that everyone kisses his ass. You sure that's what you want? You made for that grind of touring and playing out 250 days a year?"

"Dude, you're talking like it's a chore. That's my fucking dream, man. Em and Leia are all I've got here. If I can stay in touch with them and come home to them once in a while, I'd be in heaven. What I want is to be a fucking professional. I want people to think of me... All right, I'm not kissing ass here, but I know what you do. I know that you sit in on recordings for old friends. I know that people depend on you because first off, you'll do what you'll say you'll do and second; because you're fucking amazing. Speaking of that, how come Em doesn't know who you are?"

I paused. "It's... that's not me anymore. At all. It would be, I don't know, giving her a false expectation or something."

"Just telling her how good you are?"

"No, but that drags up all the old shit and why I don't play out anymore and, yeah, just not interested. I'm the studio guy now."

"Okay. Whatever."

"So, tell me what went wrong."

He sighed. "I started believing the hype. Part of me did. Another part of me was constantly worrying about when they'd realize I was a fraud. I hid from that in the bottle and in being Jimmy Reilly, all capital letters. You know what I mean? If I'm the star, it doesn't matter what they say or think, 'cause they aren't. Not so much, right? Didn't quite work out. Some dick from Guitar World had it out for me like I slapped his mother. Guy's name is Llama. Like some sort of goat or something. He tore me up and people started talking shit online. The label lost interest. Yeah, not good."

We kept talking and he finally broke it down to three things. He wanted to be respected as a professional. He wanted to be as good as he could possibly be and he wanted Em, but especially Leia to be proud of him.