[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter Five: So Play Something


There was a night, four months ago, the last time Nick had violated his one-year chip, when he was drunk out of his mind and passed out on the bathroom floor, that he had a vision. It was the strangest feeling, and something that he'd never told anyone before, but he'd clearly seen her - a girl - as real as if she'd been standin' right in front of him. She'd seemed to glow in his vision and for the longest time he thought she'd been an angel or something. He'd often felt that perhaps he'd been on the verge of death at that moment and she'd breathed new life into him. He'd credited this vision-girl with saving his life, with rescuing him from the darkness that had enveloped him.

The last place on earth he'd expected to see her was in the early evening light of the parking lot of the Bluebird Cafe, where he'd been headed to get a beer and "research" songwriters.

"So Kelsey, where you from?" he asked as they found a gap in the wall where they could stand to watch the open mic showcase.

"We grew up together," Desmond offered.

"So Boston then?" Nick said, not looking at Desmond, just staring at Kelsey. She was smiling at him. "Do you like Nashville so far?"

"We haven't had a lot of a chance to get out," Desmond injected.

Nick continued staring at Kelsey, waiting for her answer.

"Not a lot of chance to get out," Kelsey agreed, nodding. "But what I've seen I really like." Kelsey was facing Nick, Desmond hovering behind her like a third wheel with his big awkward guitar case.

"Nashville's a great place," Nick answered, leaning closer to her. "I think you'll really enjoy it here."

"I already am."

"Hey Nick, it's been awhile."

He looked up and saw one of the owners of the place and grinned, "Hey," he said, "It has. I'm back in town for a bit and just thought I'd swing by the Bluebird, see if I can't find some new material..." He waved at them, "These are my friends, Desmond and Kelsey."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "You're looking for new songs, Nick?" he asked, for a moment forgetting his concern over Nick doting on Kelsey.

Nick looked over at Desmond, "Yeah, since I'm in town and all. Might as well find some talent."

"I have some stuff," Desmond offered.

"Oh yeah I forgot you said you were a songwriter, Des," Nick said turning back to him.

The owner turned to Desmond, "You get on the list to perform?"

"Where is the list?" Desmond looked around, "I'll perform. I got some songs..." Kelsey was turning between the two of them, her eyes glowing with excitement as the exchange continued.

"Nick, you didn't get your friend on the list? For shame. What's your name, son, I'll tack you on."

"Desmond Truetree," Desmond stammered, "T-R-U-E-T--"

"R-E-E?" guessed the owner. He winked. "Let me get you on there... It was good seeing you again, Nick. Anytime you're in the area, stop by." With that, he turned around and disappeared among the patrons of the restaurant.

"Ooooh, Desi," squealed Kelsey, turning to him, "You're gonna play something. That's exciting." She grinned up at him.

He nodded, nerves running through his veins.

Nick leaned forward to talk to Desi, using the opportunity to put his arm up around Kelsey. "What kind of music do you write, Des?"

Desmond's eyes flashed to Nick's arm on Kelsey's shoulder and he felt a mixture of rage, jealousy, sickness, and nerves tumble through his stomach. "Like pop/rock, kinda contemplative stuff," he said.

"Cool man, maybe you'll have something I can use," Nick grinned.

Desmond took a shaky breath at the thought.

Suddenly the already dim lights dimmed further and the guy that had been over talking to Nick moments before was up on stage with a list and starting out the evening, explaining rules and regulations and introducing the first act... Nick's arm dropped away from around Kelsey's shoulders to clap his hands for the first act and Desmond felt a wash of relief, immediately replaced by dread because that stage looked so secluded. It was all lit up and the focal point of every breathing thing in the room, like being on a pedastal in a museum... Desmond's mouth went dry and he looked around for something to drink and his eyes landed on a backlit bar in the back of the room.

"Be right back," he gasped and he ducked away.

Nick watched his back disappear among the patrons of Blue Bird and turned to Kelsey. "So are you and Desmond... a couple?" he asked, leaning down to her ear as the first act started talking. His voice was low, husky, sexy. It gave Kelsey chills.

"No," she replied. She laughed at the idea of it. Her and Desmond? She shook her head, "Never." A smile danced across her mouth, "Desi and I grew up together. His mom used to babysit me when I was a baby and before school and everything. We took baths together when we were toddlers." Kelsey shook her head, "We're not a couple. We're just very good friends."

Nick nodded. "So he's like your brother?" he emphasized the words.

Kelsey nodded, "Absolutely."

"Oh Desmond," Kelsey sighed, and Nick looked over and saw Desmond had suddenly appeared, clutching a beer bottle, which he took a pull off as he slid into place on the other side of Kelsey.

Nick reached over quickly as Desmond was about to take another sip and he clipped it out of his hand. "I'll take that," he announced. "What're you thinkin', man?" he shook his head. "Hold on. I need to get rid of this." He ducked away, his heart racing. He headed for the far end of the bar, glanced back to see if either of them were looking his way, when they weren'tt, he turned sharply into the mens' restroom and hustled into an empty stall, his fingers excitedly clutched around the glass bottle, hand shaking with excitement.

He took the first sip, felt the tingle of it going down his throat to his belly, his senses lit up like fireworks. He felt like he'd won the lottery as alcohol entered his blood. He felt like Superman putting on his suit and cape. He was all but spinning in an old-fashioned telephone booth. He let out a long sigh of relief. "Ohhh God," he moaned, and he dove into the bottle like there was no tomorrow, like there was no AA chips, no Ringo, no promises to himself to get better about drinking.

One drink was not the end of the world, he told himself. One beer would not make him drunk, he told himself. Just one was fine. It was the ability to control himself, to keep that just one being just one. His ability to limit himself was something he'd always prided himself on, it was the one thing that differentiated him from AJ's plight in the battle against alcoholism. AJ couldn't have just one - just one for AJ led to the entire bar and being passed out drunk by the end of the hour. But Nick -- he'd successfully had one tons of times. He couldn't think of an exact example, but he was sure he had.

Tonight would become his exact example for next time he was asked this question.

Too soon, the bottle was drained and he slid it into the trash by the door of the bathroom, washed his face, and quickly gargled with some water. He even considered putting a little soap in the water, as nasty as that would taste, in hopes of washing away that alcohol scent from his breath. He breathed into his palm and sniffed. It wan't too bad, he supposed.

On his way back to Desmond and Kelsey, he stopped at the bar and asked for some peanuts, which he nibbled on quickly to further mute the alcohol on his breath.

When he got back, Kelsey had her arms folded across her chest and Desmond was looking abashed and leaning against the wall. Nick sidled up and leaned against the wall too. He glanced at Kelsey, who looked irate, then over at Desmond. "I was going to scold you myself, but it looks like Kelsey already beat me to it," he said, smirking.

Desmond sighed.

The night seemed to crawl by as act after act climbed on the stage - some pretty good, some absolutely terrible - and Nick kept glancing back at the bar, wondering if he could get away with leaving Kelsey and Desmond there long enouggh to go order another beer and relish it in the stall like he had the last one. This wouldn't be breaking his resolution to have just one, either, he convinced himself, because Desmond had drank half the first one before Nick had taken it. Hadn't he? The bottle had gone awful fast for a full bottle. Obviously Desmond had all but drained it. So it was hardly one at all. It was more like a tenth of a drink. He could certainly have one more...

"And next up on our stage is a new comer to the Blue Bird. Everyone please welcome Mr. Desmond Truetree."

Nick's attention snapped from the beer to the stage. Kesley turned to Desmond with wide eyes. Desmond picked up his guitar case, hands shaking, and carried it up, stepped up onto the stage with shaky feet, knees like jell-o, and dropped the case probably a little harder than he meant to. There was a thump that resounded through the cafe. He pulled out his guitar. It was old and beat up and missing the pick board, leaving nothing but an oddly shapeed hole where the board had been attached to the front of it. This was something Desmond had done himself on purpose to acheive a particular sound, but gave the guitar a ratty appearance. He slung the shoulder strap over his head, adjusted his hat, and sat down on the bar stool, one foot on the bottom rung.

Kelsey's hands were together like she was praying, her eyes wide and wildly looking up at him. Nick wondered if he could get away with pulling her close in the pretense of trying to comfort her nerves and show his support for Desmond, but decided against it. He didn't want to come on too strong.

Desmond's mouth was so dry he thought it might rip apart when he opened it to speak. "Hello," he said, and his voice came out strange, and sounded foreign echoing through the speakers. "My name is Desmond Truetree, and this is a song I wrote." He didn't know what else to say about it. Everyone else had told stories about their songs, so he added, "I wrote it in a hotel across town this week. I haven't played it before. It's based on a true story, I guess. In some parts at least." He thought that might be good enough, so he leaned away from the microphone and everyone stared up at him, waiting.

He was convinced they were doubting him. If his introduction hadn't been lame enough, they were surely about to break into laughter when he played. He wondered if they had tomatoes available for the truly terrible players and he imagined ducking out of the way of a particularly large hothouse tomato like Fozzie Bear.

"He's terrified," Kelsey murmured into her hands.

Nick looked at her, then up at Desmond. Desmond put his on the strings and he could see them shaking. Nick clapped his hands. A couple people looked around, confused for a second, then slowly they began joining in, and one guy even let out a low whistle from across the room. Desmond looked around, surprised by the cheering. When it died away, his confidence had grown ever so slightly, though he hadn't the faintest why they'd all started clapping. Kelsey turned to Nick, "Thank you," she whispered.

Nick smiled.

Desmond's fingers dropped across the strings and the first note filled the room. He started playing. It was a catchy tune, an almost rambling, rolling sort of feeling to it, and after a few bars of an introduction, Desmond leaned into the microphone and sang in a deep, slightly off key voice...

"Big sky, open up the horizon line
I'll drive all night as long as you're there by my side
We can burn the bridge and become meteors
Anything's possible s'long as I'm yours
So don't you go leaving without me
I wanna go where you go and see what you see
For better or worse and death do us part
I wanna light myself on fire so I can burn in your heart..."

He licked his lips and sat back, playing through into a chorus. He leaned forward again, spotted Nick and Kelsey and closed his eyes because he didn't dare to actually sing this looking at her because he was sure she'd know if he looked at her that it was about her.

Nick knew though without Desmond's eyes being open. He looked over at Kelsey, then back at Desmond whose fingers were flying over the strings, pressing and sliding along the frets like they were made to be there, like they were part of the instrument. Everyone was fascinated with him, everyone was staring up at him. They looked at Desmond the way Nick looked at Kelsey.

Like it was the best thing they'd seen all night... maybe even ever.