Chapter 2

Randy

Wrapping another Band-Aid around my finger, I wonder if this wound will ever heal. The lick that I’ve perfected for this new tune we’re about to record is so awesome, but every time I do it, it makes my goddamn finger bleed in a spot where it’s never bled before. Bleeding fingers is something that I’m so accustomed to, that I keep a box of bandages in the same place where I keep my guitar picks, and I’m not sure which ones I go through faster.

“Yo, let’s run through that one again, man.” Wade suggests. “Just in the spot where my solo is. I don’t think I have that one licked yet.”

“You sounded good, man.” Corey argues kindly. “I think you’re just second-guessing yourself.”

“You think so?” I say, teasingly. “I thought you sucked.” I chuckle, and my comment receives a playful chuck on the back of my head from Wade.

“I hope you fucking bleed to death, man.” Wade adds with a scoff.

I just smile. Wade is my half-brother. My brother from another mother, as we call it. We both come from a musical background. Wade’s mom was a famous jazz singer back in the sixties, which is where he gets his amazing pipes from, and our dad was a studio musician, recording for blockbuster movies in the same era, which is probably where we both inherited our musical prowess. Wade’s mom and our dad had an affair together, producing Wade, and when Wade’s mom died from a car crash in his infancy, he came to live with us. My mom left our dad about ten years ago, and dad married another musician, and they still do studio recordings together to this day.

I chuckle, shoving my foot out, trying to trip him, but instead he steps on my foot forcefully, and we both snort out laughs as we tackle each other on the floor. Gordon and Corey ditch their instruments and join us, as we wrestle on my basement floor, blowing off steam from rehearsing together all night. Corey grabs hold of my hair, which he always does, shouting. “You should cut your fucking hair, man! Easy target!”

“Always the hair, man.” I grunt, smacking his face enough to get his attention. “Why don’t you grow your own and quit drooling over mine.” Corey has sickly thin hair, so he shaves his head, and it’s the only thing that I can needle him about, because his body is akin to military standard, and the chicks go nuts over his bright green eyes. Also, he’s about as nice of a dude as you can find. On most days, he’s even nicer than Wade, and that’s saying a lot, because our dad is strict and raised respectful men.

“Hey, get your fucking foot out of my face!” Gordon chuckles, grabbing my foot. He’s got the longest hair out of all of us; thick, dark, and he’s got an Italian background, so he’s got that European look to him with a tan skin tone and under the California sun, I’ve seen chicks refer to him as ‘The Adonis’.

“Get your hand off my foot!” I snuffle, wrestling my way out of his grasp. We play around, scrapping it out all over the floor, until I hear a distinct throat clear from the stairwell leading upstairs to the main floor.

“Oh…hi, hun.” I say to my wife, standing on the stairs, looking none too pleased with her arms crossed over her ample chest.

“Busy at work, I see.” She says sarcastically. The chill in her voice is palpable, and we retract, dusting ourselves off.

“We were just taking a break.”

Emily, my wife of two years, is an actress. We’ve known each other since high school, but we didn’t start dating until she saw us playing at a club once, and came backstage, drunk and horny as a fucking toad. She and I screwed in the broom closet out back that night, which she denies to this day, but I swear she was too drunk to remember. We got married really fast, like, six months later, and between her acting stints and me rehearsing, it’s been a rocky road to say the least.

Carter, my golden retriever, comes scurrying in behind her, racing his way down the steps to get to me, and he can’t resist a good wrestle when he sees the potential for one, so we all begin wrestling again, this time with my pooch. “You should walk your dog, Randy. He pissed upstairs again.” Emily says flatly. “And I have to go for an audition, so I don’t have time. And thanks for the bags under my eyes, by the way.”

Emily calls Carter my dog because I brought him home without her permission. We were out back at a venue once, having a smoke after a performance, and he was wandering the streets in the middle of the night. No collar, nothing, and I did my due diligence, trying to find his owners, but after a couple of weeks, he was mine. She hates him with a passion. Carter has a bladder problem, which is probably why his previous owners let him roam away, and if he doesn’t relieve himself regularly, he has accidents. We keep a towel in a cat’s litterbox upstairs, but it doesn’t help. He’s a boy. He pisses on Emily’s Ficus tree by the door instead.

With me rehearsing all night, I forgot to let him out. He won’t go out through the dog door, and I haven’t been able to figure that one out, but he’s fast if you go out with him. Aside from that he’s the best dog ever. He protects me and the boys, and he can smell a rat from a mile away, and he growls to let me know. “I’ll let him out, babe. Sorry.” I chuckle as Carter nips the bottom of my shirt, dragging me towards him.

“Oh, Randy, would you not let him bite you like that? What happens if he starts biting guests?”

“He’s not biting me, babe, he’s playing. He never bites anyone he likes.”

“Well, he’ll ruin your shirt, and then you’ll be buying me another Ficus and a shirt.”

I walk over to her and kiss her on the lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night.”

“It’s okay. I bought ear plugs. They work well.” She says, pinching her lips together into a smile.

“You look nice.” I say honestly. Emily always dresses well, and she has makeup artists but doesn’t need them. She’s naturally beautiful with long blonde hair and the California skin that most women have to pay for.

“Thanks. Are you going to see your video this morning?”

“Yep. We’re leaving in an hour or so.”

“You better shower before you go.” She reminds.

I lift my arm and give it the sniff test, looking at her in a mock ‘what are you talking about’ sort of way. “What are you saying? I smell like roses, babe.”

She lifts her brows. “Snort coke lately?”

I gave up coke after we got married and that’s the truth, but she still needles me about it sometimes. “No. Here.” I lift my arm, pulling myself to her. She plays along, pushing me away.

“Thanks, I’m good.”

I lean in and kiss her again. “Good luck at your audition.”

“Thanks.” She kisses me back. “And Randy, seriously, take the poor dog out. That can’t be good for him.”

“I will.” I whistle at Carter. “Come on, boy! Let’s go!”

He runs to me and I pat Emily’s bottom. “I’ll walk you out.”

As soon as I open the back door, Carter runs for the nearest tree. “See? He was busting, Randy.”

“I know, I know. I’d bring him downstairs while we rehearse, but he barks like a son of a bitch.”

“Then set an alarm or something. He was scratching at the bedroom door at like three o’clock this morning because you forgot to let him out last night.”

“I did let him out.”

“Well…maybe you should take him back to the vet.”

“Or hire someone to let him out.”

“When you go on tour, you’ll have to do that.” Emily advises.

“Okay. That’s the plan then.”

“Fine. I have to go.”

“Okay, babe. Good luck. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She says, and I walk out back with Carter, as he sniffs around, looking for a spot to make in. Corey appears from the back of the house.

“Yo, dude. We’re going to head home and get ready. Meet you back here in forty-five?” All the guys live within ten minutes of my house, so it’s really convenient to practice and rehearse. Corey used to live further away, but once we got a record deal, he moved closer.

“Sure.” I nod.

Carter does his business and I play with him for a bit, and then head into the shower. We flip for it and decide to take my car to the video place, knowing that Bobby, our manager, will be joining us later, and we can split up then if we want to. “So, why are we going to look at this video, man? Isn’t that our PR person’s job?” Corey asks.

“Well, yeah, but I want to see it, too…don’t you?” I ask, as we hit a red light. “I don’t want shit hitting the screens with us on it, do you?”

“We were there when they recorded the footage. What more do we need to see.” Corey counters.

“What’s the big deal. We go in, say yay or nay, we go home and get some shuteye, and we head over to the recording studio for rehearsal.” Wade interjects. “Randy’s right, man. We don’t want shit work going out with our name on it.”

“Bobby wouldn’t let that happen.” Gordon waves.

I look at him through the rearview mirror. “Hey, what did we agree on when we first started up, man. We make the final decisions. No matter how much we trust anyone in this business, we give the final say, and that’s it. Now, videos are so popular today, we release a shit one and we’re sunk.”

“But it’s our first one, man. Just chill.” Gordon counters.

“And if it sucks, we’re done. Look at how well our first single hit the charts. Do we want to keep that going, or start putting out shit because we trust other people to do our work for us?”

“I agree, man.” Wade says.

“Yeah, me too.” Corey says. “I didn’t see it that way. I mean, sure, we recorded some pretty cool stuff, but what happens if the editing done on it is shit, and it makes us look stupid?”

“Exactly.” I say.

Arriving at the video company, it’s still early, and we’re all feeling tired from being up all night, but we know that this won’t take too long, and that sleep is on the way shortly. When we get to the door, we find it’s locked, so I knock, and a cute little brunette comes to answer it. She has to fight with the locks, and I want to help her, but I can’t see how I can. The woman introduces herself as Darrell, which is such a cool name for a girl, and within two minutes, she’s got our video pumping through the monitors, wowing the shit out of us.

The way she set up the demos makes the raw footage look so goddamn professional, it’s good enough to see on the big screen, like at the movies. Kudos to Bobby, our manager, for scouting this company out. Darrell makes quick changes with ease, and before we know it, we have the better part of a music video that will definitely make waves on MTV. As I watch her do her work, I’m in awe at the subtle aptitude of this girl, and what’s more, she clearly loves what she does. I get the feeling that she’s been burned a few times, though, but it seems like she can hold her own.

And just as we’re about to wrap it up, a blood-curdling scream comes from her, and I grab hold of her instinctually, protectively. As I follow her gaze towards the door, I see Bobby, our manager, pulling one of his stupid, gutless pranks again. The man needs to learn a thing or two about timing and appropriateness. It’s one thing to pull a prank around people that might be used to his unorthodox behavior, but it’s entirely different when he pulls this kind of shit around people who don’t know him from a hole in the ground, especially after Darrell expressed her concern about this being a shady neighborhood, and her working alone.

“Fuck, Bobby!” Corey shouts, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he rises. Bobby is a monster at six foot three, and he’s as black as night, with Nigerian heritage, but with a heart the size of California. Always in a trench coat and black clothing, he stands out like a sore thumb and is often mistaken for security, and as he stands at the door with his fake pistol, pointing it at Corey and Gordon, who are sitting on the couch, I watch the color drain from poor Darrell’s face.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s just our manager.” I explain, hugging her tight against me. Her body is all but convulsing from terror. “He’s got…kind of a sick sense of humor.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Wade says. “He nearly gave Beverly a goddamn heart attack doing much this same thing. Sorry, babe, we should have warned you.” Beverly is our stepmother, and the first time she came to one of our shows, Bobby pulled his gun out backstage, nearly creaming dad’s second wife in seconds.

Seeing us, Bobby puts his fake gun away, and smiles his toothy, satisfied grin as Corey goes to unlock the door for him. “You son of a bitch.” Corey chuckles. “You almost gave Darrell a fucking heart attack.”

I look at Darrell. She’s almost in tears. “I’m so sorry, honey. Bobby likes to fuck around a lot. He does this all the time and we’re so used to it.” My hand slides up and down her back in a soothing manner, and she’s so sweet it stirs something in me, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her forehead. As our manager enters the building, he has an apologetic look on his face that would melt anyone’s heart.

“Shit, love, I’m so sorry. I figured the boys would tell you I was coming.” He chuckles warmly, walking towards her. Bobby holds his hand out for her to shake, and she extends a trembling hand to him. “Oh, sweetheart.” He tuts himself, and takes her from my arms, giving her a hug. “I’m really really sorry.”

“It’s okay. I…have a clean pair of underwear out back.” She says, trying like hell to crack a joke, but I can tell that she’s still so shaken up, and I feel so bad.

“What got into you, man? We told you to cut that shit out.” Wade says, clapping Bobby on the back.

“I know, I know.” Bobby comments. “I just…I knew that you guys were up all night rehearsing, so I thought I’d shake things up a bit.”

“Well, you shook things up, alright.” Darrell comments. Bobby smiles warmly at her.

“How can I make it up to you, sweetheart.” He asks.

“Front row tickets to the show tomorrow night.” I say. “You think that’ll make it even?”

“Sure.” Darrell says, cracking a smile.

“Dude, you should see what she did with the video, man. It’s smoking!” Wade says.

“I’d love to see it. That’s why I’m here…that, and to make sure that you guys are still awake.”

“Let me show you.” Darrell offers, and Bobby releases her. As I stand next to her, I still feel bad, so I continue stroking her back. When she cues up the video, even though it’s still a work in progress, it looks amazing.

“How did you hear about this place, anyway, Bobby?” I ask, as we view the footage.

“Recommended by another client.” Bobby answers honestly. “And I can see why.” He comments as we watch. Even seeing it a second time, I’m mesmerized by how good we look on the screen, and it’s mostly because of the editing done. The footage shines with Darrell’s work.

“Do you see anything that you don’t like or any changes you’d like to see?” Darrell asks as the video ends. “Keep in mind that it isn’t polished yet. There’s still work to be done on it.”

Bobby turns around. “Do you boys like it?”

“No, we love it.” I say with emphasis. “Darrell did a fantastic job.”

“I agree.” Bobby says, and Darrell smiles. I hope that his compliment took some of the sting from a few minutes ago away. “What do you say to breakfast on us? It’s the least we can do.”

“Um…I really should call this one potential client back.” She says hesitantly. “And I have a lot of work to do to finish this video. I should get into that.”

“Can’t you call your client back while we wait?” I ask. “We don’t mind waiting.”

“I thought you said that you have to sleep before rehearsal?” she points out.

“Food before sleep.” Gordon says, raising a thumb in the air.

Darrell chuckles. “But I have work to do.”

“Nonsense. You can take an hour off.” Bobby insists. “Hell, it’s not even nine o’clock.”

“Sign says you open at ten.” Wade says, adding to the argument. “You’ve got an hour, and you can call your client back then.”

“Alright.” Darrell relents. “Just…let me go change my underwear.” She says, and the ghost of a smile comes on her face. She’s fucking adorable.

Bobby pulls her into his arms and hugs her. He’s such a warm-hearted and attuned guy that he can tell when someone will accept his affections or not. He’s never missed a beat. And Darrell graciously accepts. Bobby is our person gauge. When he likes someone, and they like him back; they’re in. So far, Darrell is a huge win.

“Hey, Bobby, did you bring the Cadillac?” Wade asks. My brother just loves Bobby’s wheels. We can all fit in there perfectly, and he always has wicked tunes to play wherever we go. We almost never use a limo because Bobby’s car is our ride.

“You always ask me that, and what’s my answer?”

“Hey, how come you couldn’t bring us this morning?” Corey asks.

“I had a meeting first. I didn’t think I would even make it here, but I managed to cut it short.” Bobby answers. “You guys hungry?”

“I could eat my own fucking arm.” Wade says.

“Stay away from my leather seats.” Bobby teases.

“Just give me a second to close up.” Darrell says.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go ahead, and we’ll meet you there? Grab us a seat.” I suggest. “We’re going to the usual place, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, play her your new tune, man.” Bobby says.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

The other guys follow behind Bobby as they leave. “Is there anything I can do to give you a hand?”

“No, I just have to turn the computer and the lights off and flip the sign over on the door.”

“Cool. Hey, this place that we go to is really awesome. You’re going to love it.”

“Good. I’m starved.” She smiles at me as she turns the computer off and flicks the switch behind the desk to turn all the lights off. We head out the door and I gesture with my hand for her to go ahead of me. There are only two cars in the lot, so I don’t have to tell her which one is mine. “You sure you don’t want to take my car?”

“Na, it’s okay. I can crank up my radio so you can get a good feel for the tune you’ll edit the video for next.” I explain kindly, opening the passenger side door for her.

The morning light shines on her face, giving her eyes a glint that I have to stop myself from staring at. Her green eyes are like a magnet to mine, and I have to shake it off fast, reminding myself that I’m married, and besides that, it isn’t polite to stare. But I can’t help but notice how her gaze is fixed on mine for a second too long as well. We smile at each other to break the spell, and she slides into the car.

“So, what’s your story.” I sigh after I slide in on the driver’s side and cue up the tape we recorded last night.

“Care to be more specific?”

Another smile at her, but this time I don’t look at her. “You married?”

“No.” she says simply. “How long have you been married?”

“Two years. But I’ve known her since high school.”

“Have you been together since high school?”

I wave. “No. She actually hated me in high school. Thought I was a bum.”

“She’s an actress, right? At least that’s what the rags say.”

“Yeah. She acts in movies and stuff. A bit racy for me, but whatever, she’s happy with her career.” I pause to rewind the tape. “The guys tease me and say that she’s a porn star. But it isn’t true. The movies she’s been in just have a lot of sex in them. I’m sure every guy in America’s seen my wife’s tits on the screen.”

“Yeah, I think I saw a couple of her movies.” She nods. “She’s a beautiful woman. No doubt there. You’re a lucky guy.”

I pinch my lips together, somewhat smiling, as I push the play button on the deck. “So, tear it apart. Give me your honest opinion. We’re recording this tomorrow.”

“Sure.” She says and I turn the volume up. Her head bobs slightly to the rhythm, which I take as a good sign. Her gaze meets mine as she frowns, impressed, and now we’re both nodding to the beat. When my guitar solo comes, she smiles brightly, looking at me, and I slit my eyes, paying close attention, making sure that I hit every note and did every lick properly. I nailed it except for one spot, which I’ll work on tonight when we rehearse. When it’s over, she’s still bopping along. “That’s a wicked tune. It has balls.” She comments, nodding her acceptance.

“You think so?” I ask, unsure.

“I know so. If we were in a club right now, I would have been dancing my ass off, headbanging, the whole nine yards.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely. That’s a great tune. I love it.”

“And what do you think will go well for a video for this one?”

“Well, it’s about getting pissed off at your wife, right?”

I guffaw. “How’d you guess.”

“Did you write this?”

“I helped, and I came up with the idea, so…yeah.”

“What were pissed off at her for? And don’t you think that she’s going to be pissed at you for writing shit about her?”

“Na, she’s heard it. We got over the fight, and we’re both happy because it inspired me to write this bad boy.”

“A video with couples fighting and then…well…making up, would be kickass. Maybe even have your wife star in it, since she’s so great at heating up the screen. Sex sells.” She shrugs.

“I’ll run it by her and see what she says. I’ve written enough shit for her and her movies.” I comment contemplatively as we start driving. I play the song again as we drive, and it’s so catchy that Darrell is already picking up the lyrics, which is a really good sign.

“But no nudity or anything, because MTV doesn’t allow that.” she stipulates.

“Fine by me. Like I said, enough dudes have seen my wife’s body, so I’m game to have her at least semi-clothed.”

“Does it bother you that she plays in movies with nudity?”

“Well, yeah, kind of.” I say honestly. “I mean, I know it’s her career, and I’ve never told her that it bothers me, but I think she knows. I’d never ask her to sacrifice it for me. She’s sacrificed enough for me, and she’ll be sacrificing even more when we go on tour.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be a celebrity couple.” She shakes her head as if in disbelief.

…then she asks me something I’d never expect her to ask me.