Chapter 8

Randy

The boys are all smirking at me when I come back into the house. “What?”

Wade is the first to raise his hands in defeat. “I’m done reminding you, man. Anyone else?”

“Dude, you so have a fucking hard-on for that chick.” Corey says.

“And what about you, huh? You’ve totally got a hard-on for her sister.” I volley back.

“I’m not the one with the ring on my finger, man. Nor a wife that’ll chop my balls off.”

“Would you just chill out, man? It’s strictly professional.” I lie.

“Is that why you were holding her hand the whole fucking time we were talking to the press?” Wade asks snidely.

“I just…didn’t want her jumping out in front of the camera.”

“Why would she do that?” Gordon asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug, defeated. “It felt like it was the right thing to do.”

“Let me ask you this, man. Would you have done that had Emily been here?” Wade asks.

“Well…of course not.”

“Then there’s your answer, man.”

“I don’t need this.” I raise my hand. “I’m going to bed. You assholes can see yourselves out.” I look at Carter and he knows the drill. He follows me upstairs. As soon as my head touches the pillow, Darrell is on my mind. What the fuck am I doing? I love Emily to death. I should be thinking about her, not about Darrell. What is wrong with me? Darrell is so sweet and quiet, but she’s got this ‘don’t fuck with me’ edge to her, reserved for assholes, not for everybody. Emily bites back. Darrell doesn’t. She tries the sweeter way first. But Emily keeps me in line, too. If it weren’t for her, I’d be a drunken loser in a garage band.

And tell me this…why am I even thinking about all this shit? Emily’s my wife, and more than that, she’s like my leader, as stupid as that sounds. The guys think that I’m afraid of her, and maybe in a way, I am, but it’s also like I look up to her in a way. She’s had her success for far much longer than I have, in fact, I’m just scratching the surface now. Emily’s been knee deep in a successful career since she graduated from high school. We have a mutual respect, and there’s a huge history there, as much as she hated me when we first met. It was her encouragement and motivation that kept me going until we signed our first record deal.

And here I am, laying here, thinking about another woman. Why? I know I feel different around her than I do around Emily. But I barely know this girl. How can I be thinking so much about her when I hardly know her? I look down at Carter, who’s sleeping at my feet, and I sit up in bed, petting him. He loves her. And as stupid as this sounds, it makes me feel closer to her. It solidifies my trust because, well, basically, she passed a test. If my dog likes you, I like you. Carter’s had an innate sense of bullshit since the day I brought him home. The worst part is that he isn’t crazy about Emily, but then the feeling is mutual. In fact, I’d say that in a lot of ways, she hates him. Not Darrell. Nobody has ever taken so quickly to him before, and in my mind that says a lot, as stupid as that sounds.

Sleep finally comes after an hour of going through in my mind all the good times that Emily and I have had. Like our wedding day. God, she was so beautiful. It took me a long time to propose to her, and I’m so glad that I did. My wife means everything to me. She has class, a truckload of ambition, she’s tough as nails and doesn’t take any of my bullshit or anyone else’s for that matter, and our wedding was perfect, all thanks to her. It wasn’t a big, extravagant wedding, either, like most chicks want.

Emily has made a lot of sacrifices for me, too. Like financially she’s all but carried me since day one. Since me and the boys never made much money with local performances, Emily supported me. She’s paid for everything, including our house, since the first day, and she’s never rubbed my nose in it or made me feel even the least bit guilty for it. She always believed in me and knew that there would come a day when I may even earn more than she does. Never complaining when I needed things for the band, and keeping a joint bank account so I never had to ask, has been the glue that has kept our marriage solid.

When I wake up to my alarm beeping about seven hours later, I keep on with this line of thought, and wonder how I’m ever going to repay Emily for all that she’s done for me. It’s our anniversary today, so I’ll start there. Grabbing the phone on the nightstand, I pull a sheaf of paper out of my pants pocket on the floor, so I can dial the number where Emily said that she’ll be staying for this leg of her movie shoot. I want to catch her before she’s called to the cameras, to wish her a happy anniversary. But there is no answer. I leave a message, but it’s lame. I suck at that. I’m careful not to let it slip that I’m surprising her by coming to visit tonight.

Just as I’m getting out of the shower, I hear the phone ring, and I run to it, dripping water all over our hardwood floor. “Hello?” I answer breathlessly.

It’s Emily. “Baby! Happy Anniversary!”

“Happy Anniversary, Em. God, I love you.”

She gushes. “I love you, too, baby. I miss you already.”

“I miss you, too. Hey, how’s the movie coming along?”

“Oh, it’s good. I can’t wait to get out of Hollywood though. The security here is crazy.”

“Oh yeah? Crazed fans, huh.”

“Yes, exactly. Just one more day to go. We leave tomorrow.”

“So, I’ll see you in another week, right?” I remind her which state and city we’re meeting up at, where we already booked our hotel reservations and everything.

“Definitely. I can hardly wait!” she gushes again. It’s not like Emily to gush. She’s not the emotional type, unless someone dies or something. She must be really excited about this movie.

“Wow, you sound all ga-ga, hun. You must be having a really good time.”

“I am. This…this is great. Working with Jeff is even funner on this set.”

“Oh yeah? Is his wife still giving him a hard time?” I ask, recalling the night that they wrapped up their last movie shoot, and how Jeff’s wife gave Emily a hard time because they’d be paired up as a couple in this movie.

“No. She’s actually not talking to him, which works out great for us, for now.”

“Wow. Great way to work through your marital issues, huh hun?”

“Yeah. Not like us, baby. We usually fight it out like cats and dogs and then make up like animals.”

I laugh out loud. She’s right. “God, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“So, I gather that you didn’t hear about what happened last night then, seeing as you’re not freaking out.” I say casually.

“What do you mean, baby? What happened?”

I tell her.

She’s silent for a moment. “Holy fuck, Randy. You must have been shitting yourself. Are you okay?”

“I took a stiff shot of scotch last night before bed, if that tells you anything.”

“Wow. And how are the guys? Are they okay?”

“You know them. Wade thought it was a hoax from the start.”

“That’s Wade.” She says, and I detect a slight edge in her tone, but it’s nothing that I’m not used to. “Are you guys going to be able to go on tonight, baby? Not too scared?”

“No, not at all.” I hesitate. “I just wish you could be there, especially with you being right there in Hollywood and it being our anniversary and all.” Why the hell did I say that? Why am I trying to make her feel guilty?

“Oh, baby, I’d love to. But today’s our last day. I could be up shooting all night. And then we have to get right on the road as soon as we wrap up. You understand, right?”

“Sure, I do. I was just fucking around.”

She hesitates with that comment.

“Hun?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” She says, as if distracted. “Listen, Randy, baby, I’ve got to go. I was in the shower when you called, and I’ve only got five minutes to get downstairs for rehearsal.”

“That’s okay, hun. I just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary.”

“Oh, you’re the best, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you soon.”

“See you. Bye.” She whispers and blows me a kiss in the phone. I do the same and then hang up.

The drive to Hollywood is pretty good. We jam out a few of the tunes that we’ll be recording in the next couple of weeks. We’re flying back to LA for a couple of days in between two legs of the tour, so we can work on recording the album. We’re hoping to release it in another month, which works out great for promotions, because we’ll still have lots of touring left. We received word that our first single hit the top ten on the Billboard charts, and that’s fucking huge. No wonder the fans were so crazy about us last night. I had no idea we’d become so goddamn popular.

We arrive in Hollywood a little ahead of schedule, so we unload and do our practice and sound check straight off the hop, while we wait for Swivel to arrive. Normally, the headlining band does their soundchecks first, but since they’re not here yet, we take the opportunity. We’re respectful in placing our equipment out of the way from theirs, just like we did for the first show. A couple of reporters are here so Bobby lets us go and do a quick interview, and it turns out that all they want is the juice on what happened last night.

After everything is in place, aside from a nap and a warm-up, I decide that now’s a great time to go see Emily. Martin gives me a ride over, and I have him stop at a flower shop, so I can get Emily something nice, and he drops me off at the set location. “Thanks, man. I’ll call you to come pick me up.”

“Sure thing, Randy. You’ve got the number, right?”

“In my pocket.”

I watch him pull out of the tiny parking lot in front of a huge setup. There are tents and trailers all over the place. The set is a small town in a pocket of Hollywood-style luxury homes, and the scenes, to my knowledge, are taking place inside the big house that resembles the White House, in the center of it all. There are cameras and a huge crew in sight, but they’re so far away, they look like ants from my vantage point. I’m not on any list, so I make sure that my driver’s licence is in my pocket, since I’m not big enough to be hugely recognizable…yet. It’s not often that I visit her on set, like I said, so most of her crew have no idea who I am, save for her agent. Especially since this is a whole new crew on the set of a whole new movie.

A security guard greets me at the front of a pocket of tents, behind a layer of wooden barricades. People are milling about the area, probably between scenes. It’s about six o’clock in the evening, and I go on stage at nine. “Good evening, sir.” I say to the security guard, wearing a t-shirt that says ‘security’, and that’s about as intimidating as he gets. Looks more like mall security. Not sure what Emily was talking about earlier, she made it sound like if anyone dare enter this area without permission, that they’ll be strip searched.

“Good evening.” He says, dipping his head. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Emily Reddinger. I’m her husband, Randy Jackson.” I fish out my identification and show him. “She doesn’t know I’m here. It’s our second wedding anniversary, and I wanted to surprise her.”

“I’m afraid that this is a closed set, sir.”

“Oh, come on. I just want to go in and give her the flowers.” I tell him where I’m performing tonight and at what time. “So, I’ll be here for an hour, tops.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir. But unless you’re on a guest list, or you’re here for a delivery, I’m afraid that I can’t let you in.”

“Nobody’s shooting right now, what’s the big deal? I just want to go in and see my wife, for chrissake.” I comment, irritated. And just as I’m about to play my ‘hey, you want to come and see the show for free’ card, a young lady creeps up to talk to the security guy. She does a double-take when she looks at me.

“Oh my God…you’re Randy Jackson!”

“I am. And you are?” I ask, offering her my hand to shake.

“I’m Priscilla Humphreys. Emily’s assistant.”

“Oh, cool. Say, can you let me in? It’s our anniversary and I wanted to surprise her with some flowers.”

She’s gushing, turning into the nineteen-year-old that she probably is. “Well, Emily’s practicing her lines in her trailer right now, and she said she wasn’t to be disturbed for an hour, but I’ll let you go in.”

“Thanks. That’s great. I appreciate it.”

Priscilla is about as skinny as they come. If I sneeze hard enough, I’ll knock the poor thing over. Eager, she walks next to me, and I notice that she keeps touching my arm. “So, I love your song. My friends and I play it all the time.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad. Our album will be out soon.”

“I can’t wait. I couldn’t get tickets to the show tonight because I’m working, but I’m coming for the next one.”

“You’re leaving the state to come see us?”

“Of course!”

“Oh, wow. Hey, if you want to sit up front, I can hook you up.”

Her eyes bulge and her face lights up. “Are you kidding?”

“No, not at all. In fact, since you came to my rescue, I’ll put you on the V.I.P. list so you can sit right up front.”

She starts jumping up and down as we walk past the big white house. “Oh my God! You are so cool! I love you!”

“Hey, if it weren’t for you, I’d be giving my wife two-week-old wilted flowers for our anniversary. It’s the least that I can do.”

“You are so awesome!” she gushes again, as we walk to a bank of trailers. It’s so quiet out here, you could hear snails crawl.

“Where is everybody, anyway?”

“We’re in between scenes.” Priscilla explains. “The director and the set staff are prepping for the next scene, while all the stars practice their lines. Emily was out here about ten minutes ago, but she works best on her own, so she asked me to keep watch for her, otherwise everyone always comes in and bugs her. She hates that. I don’t blame her.” she rambles. “Your wife is so beautiful. They do her makeup so perfectly here. They did mine for fun, too, to test different products, since Emily’s got sensitive skin.” She keeps on, and I find myself tuning her out as we approach another bank of trailers. The trailers are at least twenty feet apart and are all dolled up with Christmas lights and other decorations.

Someone yells for Priscilla and she looks back. There’s a very pissed off looking woman with long hair, holding a duo tang in her hand. “Come here, please!” she shouts again, oblivious to the fact that I’m standing next to her.

“Oh, shoot.” Priscilla murmurs. “Listen, I have to go, but Emily’s trailer is the one with the big flowerpot in front.” She points to it. “Go on in and tell her that Megs is on the rampage again, so she better stay put and hide until I can calm her down.”

“Oh? What’s she got to do with Emily?”

“She’s our floor director.” She covers a hand over her mouth, as if this annoyed lady will be able to hear from where she’s standing. “Kind of bitchy.”

“So? What did Emily do?”

Priscilla shrugs as she walks away. “Breathed the same air as her.”

I smile. She’s okay. “I’ll put you on the list. See you tonight.” I give her a thumbs up and she puts her palms together as if in prayer and mouths ‘thank you’.

I nod and walk towards the trailer with the flowerpot in front. Emily and her goddamn flowers. The friggin Ficus tree that Carter keeps pissing on, the fresh roses or whatever freaking flowers that she hunts down each week and puts in a vase on our kitchen table. Sure, they look nice and they smell great, but I guess that I’m a guy, and I just don’t get it. Suddenly, I’m a little nervous. I rake a hand through my hair, do a quick breath check, and fluff the flowers a bit, before sticking my ear on the trailer door.

Nothing. It’s as quiet as a church in there. I knock softly and turn the handle. And when I enter, I see something that I can never unsee. And God, do I wish I could. My heart stops, literally, and I think I stop breathing, until I find my voice. “Emily!” I yell.

She looks up at me from her bed, as she lays there, on her back, with Jeff’s face buried in her naked crotch. For a split second, it’s like she doesn’t see me, and then she pushes Jeff away and lifts, pulling the covers over her as if I’m some stranger, and not her husband of two years, coming to visit her on the anniversary of what I thought was one of the happiest days of my life. The first thing I do is drop the flowers, and then I lunge at Jeff, pulling him by his hair, since he’s not wearing a shirt, or anything at all, for that matter, and I punch him straight in the mouth, making a huge gush of blood pour from his lips.

“You son of a bitch!” I scream, taking another punch at him, as his dick shrivels, and Emily scurries over to the heap of clothes on the side of the bed, hurrying to dress herself.

“Randy, stop!” she yells, and I want nothing more than to cream this guy, knock him unconscious or kill him. With all the wrestling I do with the boys, beating the living shit out of him is like a fucking picnic. He’s not even fighting back, the pussy. Emily’s cries come on deaf ears, so she runs to the door and calls for help. But I don’t give a shit. I don’t care if this asshole is going to be shooting a scene in an hour’s time. He’ll be doing it with a fat lip or on a gurney.

“Look, we love each other, man!” Jeff screams, shielding himself from me. “She…she was going to tell you!”

I’m not even listening. I’m just throwing punches, not caring if I’m fucking up my hand for the show tonight, which I’m not. This guy’s face is like a fucking marshmallow, and my fists are sliding off him with all the goo on his face. “You want to fuck around with my wife, do you? Well, this is what you get, asshole!”

“We’re not fucking around, Randy! We love each other!”

That gets another punch, this time in the gut. Jeff falls to the floor.

“Randy! Stop it!” Emily shouts again, and she comes to me, grabbing my arm. “Stop it before someone gets killed.”

I pull my arm away from her like her touch burns. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I growl. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again, after you touched this asshole!”

“Emily?” I hear a voice call. The pimply-faced security guard comes to the door. “What’s going on?”

Emily throws Jeff his pants, but he’s doubled over in pain, with his naked, chicken ass poking out from behind. His fucking balls are so small they’re hidden inside his body. I’m slightly winded, but at the ready, just as soon as this fucker gets up. I’m half tempted to pull him up by his hair and take another shot at him, but the security guy is walking up to me. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”

I take one last kick at Jeff, getting him right in the gut, and I spit on the asshole, before walking away, stepping on the flowers I brought for my loving wife. “Happy fucking anniversary.” I snarl at her. Her lips are pursed, as if she’s got something cocky to say back to me, but smartly, she refrains. Never in my life have I ever wanted to hit a woman as much as I do now. It takes everything in me not to smack her across the face, wiping that self-righteous smirk off it. “Everyone always thought you were a whore. I guess they were right.” I seethe as I walk out the door, slamming it in my wake.

There is a line of people heading towards Emily’s trailer. I say nothing to them, even though they’re all firing off questions at me. I see Priscilla, and my face is still set in the scowl it was in a moment ago, but I make no effort to soften it. I just nod at her, and I think she picks up on what’s happened. She works with Emily, hell, for all I know, she knew that Emily was fucking around on me. Her expression registers concern, but I say nothing, and keep moving towards the front entrance.

I’m too pissed off to call Martin, and I’m not sure what to do to get my head on straight again, so I call over to the auditorium and ask for Wade. “Yeah, man. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be frolicking with your wife?”

My fist balls up. “I need you to get Martin to drop you off somewhere.” I tell him where, as I remember seeing a small pub a few blocks from here.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No.” I sigh. “Just get here, fast. I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure thing.”

No questions. No bullshit. That’s my brother. He may only be my half-brother, but he’s all I’ve got, and I trust him with my life. He may tease me a lot, but when it comes down to it, the guy would eat bullets for me if the need arose. I walk into the pub and order a beer, taking a seat at the bar. You could shoot a cannon through here, so the bartender is a little chattier than I’m up for. “Hey, you look like you need something healthier than a brewskie, brotha.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” I lie. I could use a double dose of that goddamn scotch I downed last night, but a lot of good that it’ll do me, when I have to go on stage in a couple of hours. I try not to, but it’s impossible not to rewind the last ten minutes of my life over and over again, making me so goddamn mad that I could punch a hole in this oak bar.

“You meeting someone? Want me to start a tab?” the bartender asks.

“No, just my brother. He’ll just have a beer.”

And seconds later, Wade comes in through the front door. His hair is wet from a shower, and he’s freshly shaved. If my calculations are correct, he was just cleaning up to go for a nap, and then do our warm-up. And I feel like a shit for interrupting him. “Hey, man. You look like shit.” He says, but his tone registers concern. It’s not snide or facetious.

I motion to the bartender to grab Wade a beer, also for him to give us some privacy, so I can unload. “I caught her fucking her co-star, man. Well, to be accurate, he wasn’t fucking her, he was eating her fucking pussy, if that makes it any better.”

My filter is off. I don’t give a shit how crass I sound.

Wade’s eyes widen. “Holy shit, man.” His tone is even. He feels for me. “What did you do…punch his lights out?”

I take a sip of beer and nod. “Yeah. The motherfucker didn’t even put up a fight. Fucking pussy.”

“What did Emily do?”

“Called security. She didn’t say much. I called her a whore and walked out before I got arrested.”

Wade takes the beer from the bartender with a nod in thanks, and the guy steps away, taking the hint. “So, what are you going to do now, man? Is it over?”

“Fuck, yes.” I say without hesitation. “I’ve been fucking loyal to her and passed up hundreds of opportunities to get head and fucking anything else I wanted. And not just that, man, I trusted her. I trusted her big time. I can’t ever trust her again. Fuck, I can’t even look at her again.”

“Randy, man, I hate to say it, but she’s got you by the balls. She owns the house, the car, she fucking owns you, man. You’re fucked and she probably fucking knows it.”

“I know.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“See how much Crimson can front me and buy a fucking house and a new car. Get the fuck out of there.”

“You gonna do this while we’re on tour? Fuck, come and stay with me while we’re out, and then deal with all this shit after. Keep your head in the game, man. She’s going to fuck you up and you can’t afford to lose focus, Randy. We’re just starting out, man. This is an important time.”

I digest that for a moment, but then nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” I belch, covering my mouth with my fist. “He said that she was going to tell me about them. That the two of them assholes are in love. I wonder what the fuck her plan was.”

“If he wasn’t just yanking your chain.”

“Yeah. Nothing that comes out of either of their mouths is anything trustworthy anymore. Fuck, I trusted that little shit, too.”

“Jeff’s a fucking pansy. I never liked him.”

“You never liked Emily either, man, if we’re being honest.”

“I love you, brother, but that’s the truth. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it easy on you.”

“No, you were right, man. She’s a fucking whore. God knows how long she’s been fucking around on me, you know? I just…I can’t believe it. I’m…numb.”

“I bet you are.” He claps me on the back. “But there’s nothing that you need to worry about, my man. You’ll get your shit next weekend before we hit the studio, bring it all to my place, and Darrell can come watch Carter from there. It’s done. Nothing to sweat. And from now on, you can take all the fucking pussy you want from any chick, so it’s a win-win.”

“Thanks, man. But I’m not even thinking about that. I just…I want to get my dog before that bitch fucking sends him to the pound out of revenge.”

“You think she’ll do that?”

“I don’t know.” Another belch. “I didn’t think she was capable of doing what I just caught her doing, so who knows.”

“Then we’ll talk to Darrell tonight and ask her to take him over to my place.”

“Have you got a spare key to give her?”

“We can get one made now.” he looks up at the bartender. “Hey, my friend? Do you know anywhere around here where we can get a key cut?”

He tells us. “I’ll be right back. I’ll send Martin out to go get it now.”

“He’s waiting outside?”

Wade shrugs. “I asked him to. He’s cool.”

“Okay.” I nod. Funny how the only thing I’m worried about is my dog. All my other shit at the house can wait. My equipment’s here with me, so I have all I need.

Wade comes back a moment later. “All under control, my brother.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Just…don’t sweat about anything. We’ll get you through this, man. There’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

“Thanks.” I nod. We finish our beer and pay the bill, just as Martin pulls up. “We should go. Get in a few winks before the show.”

“Yeah, man.”

“Hey, do me a favor and keep this between you and I, okay? I don’t need to have anyone giving me any pitiful looks, you know?”

“Sure. But are you going to tell Darrell? Or are you just going to make something up?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out as I go, man.”

“Okay, cool. Just…let me know so I can follow suit, eh?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know later. Let me sleep on it for a bit.”

He nods. And as we pull away, I can see the set from the car window. I look down at my fist. It’s a little bit red, but it doesn’t hurt.

…not as much as my heart hurts, anyway.