The Duet (10 page)

But he never drank other than the shots he had before a show. He knew that once he went down that rabbit hole, there would be no climbing back out. He’d watched both his parents kill themselves that way, and he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Not by a long shot.

Jay lay in his bed, the side lamp still casting a dim, eerie glow about the room. The minutes ticked by slowly. He let his mind wander, compiling random phrases and lyrics like he had so many times before. His hand itched to reach for his notebook and write it all down before he lost it, but still he lay there, unmoving.

At around six, he finally gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed. He threw on an old pair of running shoes and tugged on a t-shirt. Trisha was quietly closing Cooper’s door just as Jay left his room.

“Oh. Hey,” she whispered. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Nah, didn’t hear a thing.” Jay inwardly winced as he thought about all that he had heard between songs. The walls in the apartment were way too thin, and why the hell did they put the bedrooms side by side? Who wanted that? If Izzy had brought her date back to the apartment, he would have been subject to listening to them all night as well.

At least his roommates were getting some. Maybe that was Jay’s problem. He needed to get laid. Surely that would solve his insomnia. Maybe he would work on that tonight, after the show. It wasn’t like he had to try very hard, and Trisha was always bringing friends. Maybe that blonde one with the big…

“So, I’ll see you,” Trisha said, picking up her shoes from beside the front door.

“Yeah, see you tonight at the club, right?”

“Uh, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah, I won’t be there tonight. We broke up.”

Jay ran his hands along his unshaved jaw to keep his face from showing any expression. The truth was, it wasn’t all that shocking. Cooper and Trisha broke up every other week, it seemed. But it sure did sound like they had made up last night. And here she was sneaking out while Cooper still slept peacefully. Whatever. And there went his chance with that busty blonde friend of Trisha’s. Well, shit.

He let her slip out the door without saying anything else. He didn’t know what to say anyway, and she looked relieved when he didn’t ask her any questions.

Outside, the crisp morning air felt good in his lungs. He took a few deep breaths, stretched a little, then started out at a medium pace. Kingston was just waking up as the first signs of daylight began to show. He wasn’t a huge fan of the town he’d called home for the past few years, but it was better than staying in his parents’ house. Too much happened there that made him want to be far away. It took everything in him to go to Cooper’s parents for dinner every Sunday. He would purposely avoid looking at his old house, and he drove several blocks out of the way so he didn’t have to pass the cemetery where both his parents now lay.

What he missed, was the ocean. He’d lived in North Carolina until he was fifteen. There, he ran track at his Jr. High, and every morning he’d train by running five miles along the shore. The air was different there; thicker, but somehow cleaner. He missed the smells of the saltwater and the tingle of the ocean spray on his skin. He missed the give of the sand under his feet. He missed when life didn’t seem so difficult all the time.

His father had come home late one night, after missing Jay win big for his team in all-states. He hadn’t even asked about the track meet. He just came in the house, sloppy and drunk, announcing that they were moving to California, and how he couldn’t stay in that house for another minute.

The official story both his parents gave him the next morning, was that his father had gotten a better job on the west coast, and he needed to start right away. The real story was that his mother was caught cheating with one of his father’s co-workers, and in retaliation, his father had made a god-awful scene at work, which not only got him fired, but disgraced him so much, he felt the need to leave North Carolina altogether.

So the three of them packed up a large rented UHaul, sold whatever didn’t fit, and trekked across the country. It was the longest week of his life. His parents alternated between cold silence and angry, biting comments to each other, which led to horrible scenes of screaming and sometimes physical violence, all while driving the car. They would have made it to California sooner, but at one of the motels they stopped at, his father got so drunk, it took him a day and a half to sleep it off.

He couldn’t really remember seeing either of them completely sober after that night. And once they got to their new home, he might as well have been invisible. They were so wrapped up in their hate for each other, they didn’t pay him any attention. He was like collateral damage.

Meeting Cooper had been the only thing that saved him. That, and writing. He wrote down everything, which was funny because he’d been held back a grade for dyslexia, and he had hated to write as a kid. But this kind of writing didn’t need to be mechanically correct. He was the only one who would ever read it, so it didn’t matter if he inverted letters or misspelled words. Writing was what he did to purge all the thoughts that didn’t fit inside his brain. If he didn’t get it down on paper, he might explode. And hanging with someone as normal as Cooper - someone who didn’t want to talk about his shit, yet understood how huge it was for Jay to be welcomed into Cooper’s big, loving family - was like a lifeline to Jay.

As his feet hit the pavement in a steady, hypnotizing cadence, Jay tried to remember when the most complicated thought in his brain was whether or not he would try to get to second base with Sasha at the Holiday Dance. He was confident, he was popular, and he was happy. He was blissfully ignorant of the ugliness of life. It felt like that kid was somebody different, someone he read about or saw in a movie; because he certainly didn’t recall the way it felt to be so carefree.

He rounded a corner and headed back toward the apartment. As he passed the park a few blocks from home, he was surprised to see Izzy sitting on a park bench, a cup of coffee cradled in both hands. Her brand new fiery red hair was almost completely concealed with a baseball cap, and he could see her face in profile. She was staring out toward the park, away from his direction, and she had a smile on her face. Was she thinking about her super fun night with that asshole from the bar? Did he live nearby? Had she just left him, sleeping in the bed they’d shared? She took a slow sip of coffee, holding the cup against her bottom lip, then tilted her head back to look up at the sky.

He’d seen her like this before, though it was rare to get a glimpse of her so unguarded and peaceful. When she was around him, she always had her back up. He wished things could be different. He wished she would talk to him like she talked to Cooper. He wanted to be able to communicate with her without coming off like a cold-hearted jackass. But whenever he tried, he clammed up. She knew too much about him, and he was uncomfortable with how naked and exposed he felt around her. Better to keep things like they were.

He picked up his pace as he passed by the park, moving as if he could outrun his crazy, messed up emotional turmoil. If only that were the case.

14

“Thank you so much Tiffany. Hope you see you soon!” I handed my departing customer her credit card, and with it, a double dose of bullshit. If she ever bothered to use that over-processed blonde head of hers, she would realize I was mocking her.

I sighed. Retail was not my thing. I know – big surprise. I was ready to make another move, but I thought I might try to stick it out for a whole thirty days this time. Though there had been plenty of opportunities for me to get myself fired, I found that both the clientele and the associates at this particular establishment, had their heads so far up their bleached butts that they wouldn’t be able to tell an outright insult from the flattery they were accustomed to.

These people were hopeless.

The store was an upscale chain that sold what they liked to think of as trendy styles. Our customers were made up of rich people; trophy wives in their forties who wanted to dress like their teenage daughters, and same teenage daughters with Daddy’s credit card and no spending limit.

I was not exactly your typical sales clerk material for one of these stores. But with my red hair (we’re talking fire engine red to suit my fiery temper as of late), and my eccentric fashion sense, the management were all too happy to exploit me in order to attract a more “hip” crowd. In return, I got to toy with these people on a regular basis, which had been entertaining for a while, but now I was beginning to get bored.

The afternoon dragged on. I helped a pair of tweens select some completely inappropriate dresses for a weekend party one of their parents was hosting, and picked out a ridiculously over-priced, not to mention ugly, handbag for a girl about my age who fancied herself some kind of royalty the way she swept her hand in my general direction and snapped her fingers to get my attention. I assured her the bag was one of a kind (we had three boxes of them in the back), and that it was hand sewn (mass produced in China). She didn’t thank me, but I could tell she was totally impressed with my vast knowledge of handbag couture and that she would be back very soon to buy some hideous shoes to match, or maybe a garish scarf or two.

I finished my shift and went straight home. I didn’t have to be at Darden’s tonight, but The UnAmused was playing. I hoped to get the apartment to myself for a change.

No such luck.

I walked in to find Cooper lying on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, and Jay standing over him, wearing nothing but a towel, and prodding him with his toe.

“What happened?” I dropped my purse at the door and rushed over. When Jay didn’t answer, I looked up at him. Maybe the look on my face was slightly accusatory, I don’t know. But he instantly got defensive.

Shrugging, he gestured toward Cooper on the floor with one hand and held his towel in place with the other. “What do you think happened?”

I tried not to think about where his hand was on the towel, or that he was practically naked. I purposely tore my eyes away from his bare, alarmingly solid, torso and the glistening drops of water that dripped from his hair onto his shoulders and down his chest. Instead, I focused on Cooper’s pathetic form, lying passed out on the floor when it wasn’t even dark out yet. And it was the night of a show. How could he get on stage in a few hours when he wasn’t even conscious?

“Were you home all day?” I asked Jay, averting my eyes from the tattoo that covered one side of his abdomen. But looking at his eyes was just as dangerous.

“I was in and out.”

I stared at him for a moment longer, until his gaze just got to be way too much. Then I knelt down beside Cooper, relieved to see that his breathing seemed steady. But my relief was short-lived as I realized my new position now put me in direct line of sight of Jay’s bare legs. Fabulous!

“I’m getting dressed. See if you can wake him up. We have to be at the club in an hour.”

The air in the room thinned out as soon as Jay left, making it easier to breathe. I plopped down on my butt next to Cooper, trying to get ahold of my traitorous heart, and my runaway hormones.

I looked down at my friend; my sweet, funny, larger than life buddy who had always been my champion, even through some of my darkest days growing up. He was a mess. I knew it since I’d moved back to California, but it didn’t really sink in until this moment. Jay may have been the one to get shipped off to rehab, but Cooper was the one who really needed help.

“Cooper,” I whispered, poking him lightly in the arm. He didn’t stir. “Coop? Come on, now. Time to wake up.” Still nothing.

I shook him. He moaned something unintelligible, so I kept trying. “Cooper! Wake up buddy.”

He shifted a little, rolling toward me, and for a moment I thought he was coming around. He opened one eye, licked his lips. And then proceeded to throw up all over me.

Now I was mad. And not for the obvious reason, although that may have played a small part in my sudden surge of annoyance. Jay chose that moment to step out of the bathroom. Probably not good timing on his part.

He took one look at me and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit,” was all he said.

I lost it.

“Oh shit? Is that all you have to say, you son of a bitch?” I looked down at Cooper, who had passed out once again, laying in his own mess, and my anger just spiked.

“What the hell, Jay! Why’d you let him drink so much? What is wrong with you?” My voice was that high screechy tone I had often heard from the skanks at the bar after they’d drank too much and caught their boyfriends flirting with someone else. I had made fun of those girls more than once. But I was too pissed to stop and laugh at the irony.

Jay walked over so that he was standing right over me. “What’s wrong with me? Jesus, Izzy, what’s wrong with
you
? Why don’t you look after him if you’re so fucking concerned? And maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would know that he and Trisha broke up again last night. He always gets like this when they break up. But you’re too busy hooking up with your new fan base to notice.”

My head snapped back in surprise. Those were the most words I had ever heard Jay string together at once. And they were hurtful words. Aimed at me. I didn’t like it.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I was at work all day, and you were here with Cooper, just watching while he got too shitfaced to stay conscious.”