FicWad

A few days later...London, England.

In prime English fashion, the weather that greeted me off the ferry in London was a light mist just like back home in L.A. The second I slid my bags off my shoulders in the hotel room my body felt weightless. I ignored the thud the computer made and collapsed dead armed onto the mattress. Ugh, sweet bliss, after four hours on a bullet train hurtling underwater with an unnerving view of pitch darkness, I was relieved to stuff my head in a stationary pillow, although my body still felt like it was coming around a bend.

There was a knock on the door, my friend and tour manager, Brian. I pretend not to hear him instead reaching over to slide another pillow over my head

“Hey Champ, how was the trip?" He shook my foot to check if I was alive.

“Meh, if you like that whole trapped in a tin rocket under water kind of thing." I extract my head from its pillowy burrow and give my rats nest a good tussle. I'm sure it looks scornful but that's a perk of the job, I’m encouraged to look like I don't care, part of the mystique I guess.

“All right kid so you got a few hours to relax before the party begins. You need anything until then?"

"Can you wake me up in an hour?"

He shook my knee and we bumped hands as he exited the room. I called Calyx, but her cell went to voice mail so after a message, I crashed out, in place, shoes on. Exhausted never quite describes the sensation a road dog feels properly.

Waking on my own to the vaguely familiar hotel room, I listened to the sounds of bustling people next door. It’s not like I’ve been here before, but I’m used to waking up in unrecognizable places. It’s a trip to think of the familiar as foreign. I do call a bus home.
What makes a place Home for me in that nostalgia kind of way, besides my childhood home where my folks still live, are people, my band mates: Ray, Bob, Frankie, of course Mikey and now Calyx. Moving my hand over the cool empty part of the bed, I think the absence of her warm body is why I woke early. I’ve never grown attached to a girl like this in such a short amount of time, but then again no one could travel with me the way she has regardless of the obvious. Although I'm scared about what's coming, it’s not a run for the hills type of thing. I'm afraid to let her down, and I'm afraid to let our baby down too. I know it’s not going to hit me I'm a father until I'm holding them in my arms, but sometimes at night when Cal's asleep, I listen to the baby and feel him moving, and talk to him. I want to make sure he knows he's loved.

“Hey dude-" Brian caught me off guard. I must not have heard him knock.

“Hey man, what's up. Is it time?" I unhinge my hands from behind my head, and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. He has a peculiar expression on his face, like he just walked in on his parents.

“You cool? You had that thinking look on your face."

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just worried about Cal you know, it sucks to leave her." I stand and ruffle my hair in the mirror, wiped away some rogue smudges and throw on my leather jacket, my way of getting ready. He still wasn't moving. "Look, B I'm cool" I punch his shoulder to loosen him up.

“All right I’m just lookin out for you. I'm here if you need anything. I know that look like something’s really on your mind" Instead of firing back any more comments; I give him a semi-sincere pat on the back although I just want him off mine. It’s not like I’m not open to talk about what’s going on, just not right now. Calyx and I haven’t talked about most of this shit yet.

We took the elevator to the pent house on the top floor; the usher guy even turned a key to reach the higher levels. The first thing I thought walking into the foyer, was that the theme this year must be a tie between cheese and cool, or guitar rock history. Fuck, I wished the guys were here.

There were a couple advertisements and banners for the magazine hanging, but the entire place was your cliché palatial rock residence. Plenty of guitar heroes strutted around in boots, bling, flamboyant shirts, leather and selected entourage, but there was also the supplement of a spectrum of eye candy. The guys would get a kick out of this with me, but girlfriends obviously aren’t welcome.

“Holy shit man." Two brunettes in stilettos handed Brian and I two glasses with some concoction that tasted citrus. He nods silently in agreement. We take a few steps through the room, taking in the sights a little. I empty my glass in halves and head to the bartender to have it refilled. Afterwards, I leave Brian and walk onto the balcony to avoid any chance conversation; the longer I can go without mingling hopefully the faster this will go. It seems a VIP party is happening out here, but I find a quiet area by the railing and turn my back on all the bodies groping flesh from view.

I feel inside my jacket, and I realize I must have left my phone in the room. When I turned my shoulder, my peripherals caught Camille walking up on me. She is wearing a red minidress which compliments her toffee skin nicely, another ‘I dare you not to look’ little number. I can’t tell whether she is mullato or Asian, but she is obviously working the exotic look and well aware how it must work on men. Even though she's not my type of girl, a man is a man and we are always weak for a dark pair of eyes.

“Hello Gerard, you’re really good at the mysterious lurker thing out here by yourself. I thought I'd keep you company." There go those eyelashes fluttering away. I don't know how to reply to that, everything coming to mind makes me sound like a prick. I take a timed drag on my cigarette and exhale into the night breeze, the air is pretty sharp up here which also makes me keenly aware of her outfit again. Watching her from the corner of my eye lean nonchalantly against the railing next to me, sighing languidly, I couldn't help but laugh under my breath, Cal was so right.

“What’s so funny?"

“Nothing comes to mind. It’s good to see you again." I need to silence the inner monologue or it'll be a long night, and against the last reasonable whisper, threw the rest of my drink down the hatch.

“I want you to know, Gerard, that none of this is on record or for the magazine or anything. They're just footing the bill, but I'm not even on the clock tonight, here-" I don’t remember if she held them when she walked up or not but she hands me a glass of something stronger while nursing on her own. You can always tell quality liquor by the potency ratioed with its smoothness. Whatever I’m drinking at the moment is very smooth. I can't help but take another drink, at least it make her talking easier to tolerate.

"Or so you say. So, why are you having this little party, Illy?" Fuck me, her face lights up like Christmas.

“Oh, you remembered, how sweet! And parties like this are crucial for networking with people in the industry all at once, and under looser circumstances than normal." She nudged me gently and was becoming friendlier the lower her drink level became, touching my arm and back. "And it’s the only way I could see you again. You're never at industry functions." What are we in high school? "It's like you play hard to get with your fans." I couldn't help shrugging.
“Not really, I just don't show up to the circus." She tosses her wavy brown hair off her shoulder and adjusts her necklace. The gesture of reaching up stretches her dress dangerously taut against her fit body. I'm used to women getting like this after a drink or two, playing the same flirtatious game. Camille is from the same vixen cloth, a new breed of confident woman who openly use their sexuality as power whether for fun or their career. These young girls’s come a long way in this world, planet sex; drugs and rock n roll right? It is no place for real men or daughters around here.

Flashing her figure is the last thing that turns me on, but I realize I'm playing into her game anyways just by thinking about it. How can I think I'm better than those men when my eyes bring to me to the same conclusion?

"How often does all this get you what you want?" I blurt out after finishing the last gulp of jungle juice for some courage.

“The parties? These are just fun, it brings out all the characters. All my homework comes in handy later on when I write up a piece here or there about my new found connections." I rake my fingers in my hair in frustration. God I wish I could just check out here. I can feel the drunkenness and superiority kicking in. My attitude is beginning to surface. Where is Brian?

"No, all this you've got on display for us tonight, perky. You can't say it’s in your job description." Alcohol definitely removes my inhibition filter but luckily she isn't pissed. Actually, she seems to rise to the occasion.

“No its not but when you can be replaced at anytime up the hotter up and comer, it’s in your best interest to play the game harder and hotter. Why lie and say this industry doesn't evaluate you on perfection when it obviously does? That's the double standard of the music business and whoever can master it, gets into the club. You got to look dead cool without giving a shit." I blink at her for a second, taking in what she said.

“You might think you're different, that you were the freak who got picked on in high school and you'll never sit at the cool kids table, in fact you think 'fuck that table', but that's the beauty of it. All us ducklings grow up someday, and we just made our own damn table. Now, guess what? You got a cigarette?" She extracts one from the pack I offer and holds it between her puckered lips waiting for me to light it which I'm a second behind on.

“What’s that?" She takes a few drags and lets the smoke hang out if her mouth. My heads starting to feel foggy and I'm probably staring at them too long.

“Hard to believe it, but you’re one lusted after now, Honey. You’re sitting at the head of it with us. "She leans in against me and with fog and heaviness swirling in my blood I don't react to the sensation. I feel like I'm watching her like a sitcom, waiting for a neon sign to tell me what to do. Her fingers are idly playing with the zipper on my jacket running it up and down, looking at me peculiarly, her other hand slowly taking a fist of my shirt.
I wake up a little from the weird trance, like when you get stuck staring at something, noticing the glass in my hand, look down at her, and I finally feel her words dawn on me. I step back.

“If I am its only it’s only for the free meal, a picnic or table doesn't make a difference to me. It's the same wanna-be's just in a different clique, the clue is you all want to be something instead of being content with yourselves. See I know I'm fucked up, but at least I reach people, in whatever way." I shed away from her like a skin. She almost had me going for a moment, but I was right the first time seeing the facade of this place.

Inside it seems all I can see is the face behind that mask, all the portentous rockers, and drugged females wobbling about on heels, the unnerving tinkering of fake laughter. I desperately wish the guys were here, no, I just wish I was with them.

Brian wasn't in sight, but I had my own key for the hotel room. I high stepped over the human destruction cluttering the room and left the nightmare without looking back. I hope the reason why Brian wasn't there was because he realized the same scam and was chewing out the label; I, on the other hand, want solitude and to be on my way back to Calyx.

If other people are hell, a quiet hotel room is heaven. It was satisfying to secure the door between them and me and drop my leather jacket on the floor. I turn on the television to BBC and sit a minute on the bed, relaxing with the cool atmosphere through osmosis, listening to the dribble.

My cell vibrates angrily on the desk. Calyx must have called back. My heart leaps excitedly, but when I pull the screen up it drops cold. Nearly 40 missed calls and twice as many texts? I frantically scroll through the messages all increasingly worrisome.

Hey call back please

Hey, I really need to hear your voice, please call

I really don't feel well, Gerard, I need you

Honey, please

Gerard, were taking Caly to the hospital call

Where are you, this is serious?

Fuck, where are you?

Mikey’s with her, where are you man, something wrong

My heart beats in my throat and my thumb can barely dial the buttons. Of course Calyx’s phone went to voice mail, and then so did Mikey’s. I rang Frank’s phone next agonizingly waiting for each ring.

"Gee, holy shit!" Brian bursts loudly through the door, tripping over my coat. Startled I accidentally end the call when I turned on Brian.

“What the hell going on!?" I shout.

“Pack your things, Caly's in the hospital! We got to get to the train station now, it’s still gon’na be a few hours." I scramble for my suitcase and shove anything in within reach.
“But what happened? Is she okay, what about the baby?"

“ I spoke with Mikey before he went into surgery with her-" my stomach lurches, fear and helplessness electrifying my system to my fingertips. "I guess something happened with the baby and they need to do an emergency c-section, Gerard she's gon’na be okay. Mikey’s with her all the way, well get there soon." I snatch up my bags and bolt for the door without saying a word.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I kick the elevator harshly three times waiting for the doors to open, of course Brian’s on my tail. "Gerard stop!" The doors almost clip him but he makes it.
God or whoever the fuck is there, if anything happens to them while I'm not there I will never forgive myself. I will never forgive you. I told her everything would be okay. Fuck! Mikey, please, take care of them! Until then, all I can do is clench my fists and hope.