The Redemption (25 page)

And there it is, a soft sigh accompanied with a side of sympathy written all over his face. “That. What you’re doing right there, Johnny, that’s what I don’t want. Not from you. Not from anyone.”

Leaning back, he drops his hands to his sides. His eyes fixed on mine. “I want what’s best for you and the boys.”

“I know. I do too. But I’m starting to feel like what’s best for me as a woman may not be what’s best for the boys.”

“Dex isn’t that bad. I mean, he’s actually kind of cool. We’ve kept him around for a reason.”

With a light laugh, I say, “I know that too, but Janice doesn’t. The tabs don’t.”

“Fuck the tabs. We don’t live our lives to justify our actions to them. Sometimes we fuck up and sometimes the day turns out better than planned. We just have to do the best we can. As for Janice, I know I don’t have to explain her angle. You’re well aware of that. But she loves you and she loves those kids. You guys are all that remains of her son, so she’s gonna be tough on you. Probably not accept some guy strutting in like he’s gonna replace Cory.”

Looking down at the burgundy table cloth, running my finger along the fold wrinkle, I release a deep breath. “Dex didn’t strut, but I treated him like he did.”

With a slight nod in understanding, Johnny says, “I have a feeling he’s underestimated a lot.”

“But we shouldn’t. As his friends, we should stick by him. I’ve seen how much he’s changed over the years and I doubted what I knew to be true because of my own fears of being judged.”

Johnny shifts when the waiter arrives, and asks, “Would you like to see our dessert menu?”

“No, thank you,” he replies and then I repeat the same.

When we’re alone again, he leans in. “From where I sit, you have a choice to make.”

“I pushed him away,” I interrupt. “And then he slept with someone and I caught them, so there’s no choice to make anymore.”

His face contorts. “Hmmm.”

“For some reason my gut tells me he didn’t, but he wants me to believe he did.”

“What?”

“Exactly. It’s a mess.” With another sigh, I say, “We’re a mess.”

“Back up. He slept with someone, but didn’t, but wants you to believe he did?”

“I don’t know for certain, but something like that.”

“You guys are twisted.” The check arrives and he glances over it, sets his credit card down in the folder, then scopes out the restaurant. The waiter swipes it from the table, leaving us alone again. Usually by this point at dinner, he gets anxious to leave because word has spread that he’s in the restaurant. It will be a miracle if we get out of here without him stopping to take a pic or signing an autograph or twenty. Looking down at his watch, he says, “It’s almost eleven, but I’m up for an adventure. How about you?”

His excitement is contagious, so I ask, “Like old times?”

He smirks. “Yeah, but without the cop chase.”

Nodding toward the door, I say, “Let’s go.”

Thirty minutes later, the band—all four members—Tommy and me, are piled into a light blue minivan heading away from South Beach. The food I just ate feels heavy in my stomach, the awkwardness of the situation not sitting well with me. I did not have enough to drink to pretend to be cool.

“Where are we going?” Kaz asks, shifting uncomfortably next to me.

I elbow behind me lightly. “Stop moving. You just jabbed me in the boob.” I’m half on his lap and Derrick’s right leg. Dex is on the other side of Derrick crammed against the far door.

“Sorry,” Derrick mumbles.

Tommy laughs from the front seat. Dex leans forward and hits him on the arm, sneaking a peek at me in the process. Johnny hands his phone to Tommy and tells him to put on some music. Classic Aerosmith starts playing just seconds later; the melody calming the giggles and grunts as we settle in. Music is the thread that stitches us together. I feel Kaz’s foot bounce to the beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Dex drumming his fingers on his legs.

The van crosses over a large bridge and then turns off on a small street that veers toward the beach. When Johnny parks, we all stagger out of the van, enjoying that we can stretch our cramped up legs.

The beach is isolated. More of a fisherman’s beach than a sunbathers. The headlights shine forward, lighting the water as it crashes down on the sand. I take my shoes off and walk forward wanting to get lost in the sounds of the music, the ocean, and the dark sky above.

Kaz and Tommy are nearby. Derrick is on his phone and walking down the beach. Johnny lays down in the sand halfway between the water’s edge and the car. And Dex—I turn back and see him sitting on the hood of the dated rental. He’s a silhouette of darkness, smoke wafting into the wind before it has time to settle above his head. He’s watching me. Unabashedly. His gaze seeking me out and taking hold, making me want to go to him. The water covers my feet and splashes up the side of my legs. The bottom of my jeans are rolled up but still get wet.

As “Dream On” by Aerosmith kicks in, I trek back. When I pass Johnny, he lazily asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I reply and keep walking. Dex’s legs are parted, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s wearing sunglasses not to hide his eyes, but to hide his emotions. He can’t hide though. Just like me, there’s more to this, more to us than he can admit. I lean my back against the grill, resting on the bumper and keep my eyes forward.

His knee bumps me and I turn to look at him. In a hurry, he slides down the hood, his feet hitting the sand. I stand and he looks at me. Lifting his sunglasses up, his expression more pissed than any other. With a slight roll of his body, he’s pressed against me, his arms on either side of me, his palms flat on the hood. His head is on my shoulder, and he says, “You’re inside of me, the blood that fills my veins, the aches that my heart feel, and every good decision I ever made. That’s what you mean to me. I can’t stay away from you and I don’t want to.” Lifting up and looking me in the eyes, his lips brush against my cheek without leaving a kiss, and he adds, “You’re the melody I can’t capture and the notes I can’t hit. But I can’t fight your pull, always gravitating toward your world, to you.” Just when I think he might kiss me, going against his promise from this morning, he pushes off, leaving me in awe of not only his words, but the man himself. The underlying passion we fight so hard against is back in place, denying us both any peace until we give in again.

With my mouth left agape, it’s times like these I wish I smoked. I steady myself as I walk back to Johnny and sit down silently next to him. His arm goes out and I lie back, using it as a pillow. Our life experiences have bonded us. He’s become the only man I can rely on in my life. One of his best qualities is he knows when and when not to push. He stays quiet, letting the waves fill the air instead.

Derrick is the next to join us, sitting down on the other side of me. Tommy and Kaz leave the laughter down at the water and sit next to Derrick. I see Dex in the distance throwing something into the ocean; a seashell is my guess.

Despite his actions, he still fascinates me. Physically, he’s so beautiful, and could easily be mistaken for a model down here in Miami. But his insides are conflicted. He’s a lot like me in that way. I know there’s good inside. I’ve seen it in him. But sometimes, we can’t fix people. He wants to live one way, but his image comes into play and he battles that demon daily. I realize regardless of our pull, as he calls it, our efforts might not be enough. He might have to be the one who finds his own peace instead of me giving him what he needs. I may not be able to do that.

I sit up just as Dex sits down on the other side of Johnny. No one says anything, and a different song echoes through the windows of the van. Kaz is smoking a joint. The smell reminds me of our days as a garage band. We were all about fucking up just so we could say we lived life to the fullest. Cory was always the most responsible of us.

I look over at Dex and he looks away. It’s then that I finally get it. All of this with Dex isn’t about him. Sure he has his issues to deal with, but this is about me and my issues as well. I can have fond memories of Cory, which I always will. But he’s not here sitting on the beach with us or to guide us to safety anymore.

Dex is.

Dex with his smile that hides the good from the rest of the world and saves it all for me. Dex with his mysterious side and secrets and intriguing reasons for lying to me. I may be glorifying him, but deep down, I feel he’s lying to protect me, not to hurt me. Revelations like these make me anxious and want to share them, celebrate them, but not with the guys here. I can’t act like an emotional girl around them. I’d lose all my cool kid cred if I do.

I stand up and dust the sand off my ass. “Dex, walk with me.” I don’t ask. I make my demand as I start walking toward the water again. He’s behind me trailing, so I slow down and let him catch up. “I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Looking over, he’s pulling another cigarette from his shirt pocket and a lighter from the front of his jeans. He lights up, then tilts his head back and blows. “It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“What is?”

“I am.”

Hoping my words are not lost to the wind, I whisper, “You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t know any other way.”

I bend down and pick up a seashell. When he squats down next to me, I say, “You do. Just sometimes you get lost.”

“I need you to help me find my way back.”

My eyes meet his and in the moonlight of Miami, I reply, “Okay.”

He nods. It’s small, but it’s an understanding passing between us, an agreement between two hearts.

I didn’t know what I had agreed to with Dex, but I left Miami knowing it entailed more than just words. Actions and support would be included. In what way, I would soon discover.

Burnout is a big problem for bands on the road. Fortunately, they had a four day break in New Orleans, which I’m sure they needed. The headlines didn’t thrill me. Gossip blogs had posted photos of them playing an impromptu concert at Preservation Hall. A few drunken pics on Bourbon Street bothered me. They didn’t say Dex hooked up with anyone, but how would they know really.

A knot forms in my stomach just thinking about it. It’s a grounded fear since we haven’t dealt with the Firenza issue. Something is off with that situation. When I replay that morning back in my head, the whole thing just doesn’t sit right with me. Naturally, Dex having sex with
her
doesn’t sit right, but something about how he acted toward me in front of her still makes me doubt what I saw with my own eyes.

The way she nudged his back… and how he had his back to her in the first place.

The look in his eyes, the fear, wasn’t one of fear of losing me, but more of shame.

He makes me feel weak when I need to be strong because I know he cared about me. But emotionally, I’m in no position to ask the questions that need to be asked, not strong enough to hear the answers. So I need to stop guessing at what his motives were because that’s the one thing that was clear. I punch my pillow to fluff it, wishing I could stop thinking about why he hasn’t called me either.
I’m weak.

Resting my head down on the couch, I try to block out my thoughts by listening to the boys playing in Neil’s room, hoping to sneak in a quick nap.

But as soon as I close my eyes, I hear, “Mom.”

Gradually opening one eye, then the other, I find myself face to face with Neil and CJ. Neil flashes four postcards in front of me. “Dex is home. I want to go to his house and play.”

“How do you know?” Sitting up slowly, I take one of the postcards. “What is this?”

“We got letters from him.”

“What? You did? When?” I flip Chicago’s postcard over and read:
Hey Buddies, I’m in the Windy City today. Looking forward to hanging with you guys again. Take care of your mom, Dex.

Stunned by what I’m seeing, I anxiously pull the next postcard from his hands—Atlanta—and read:
Neil, the crowd at Chastain Park was so cool. One day I’m gonna bring you to a concert so you can play drums with me on stage. CJ, hope you’re keeping up with your alphabet. We’ll practice hitting rhythms to the alphabet song when I return. Take care of your mom, Dex.

The handwriting is messy, but legible—a lot like Dex these days. Grabbing postcard three, I read: Nashville:
Hey Buddies, miss you guys. I’ve bought you each a surprise, but you have to be good for your mom to get it. I’m gonna check with her too, so no fibbing. Hope you’re practicing your paradiddles and rhythms. Take care of your mom, Dex.