Buried Notes (Brothers of Rock #4) (12 page)

“Didn’t realize you had a heart.”

“Yeah, funny. I’m serious, Chris.
Signing the papers was hard because it was all fresh. The pain. The hurt. And
yet the love. It was realizing that my signature officially ended it all. No
more trying. No more obligation to care. That’s a lot to swallow.”

“And I don’t have to do that,
right?”

“Exactly,” Peter said. “You haven’t
seen her in how long? A quick signature and it’s all gone, for good.”

Chris looked at the plane again.

Could it really be that easy?

Just sign the papers and walk away.

Could Chris actually do that?

Up until the papers arrived, he
thought he could. But getting the papers just brought everything back. It was like
dusting off an old memory that Chris thought was long gone. But the memory
wasn’t gone at all. In fact, replaying those nights again and again started to
make him feel more alive than he’d felt in a while.

“Thanks for coming here,” Chris
said. “I’m glad to know you care about us.”

“Of course I care,” Peter said. “I
just want you to really think about what you might be stepping into.”

Chris nodded.

There was nothing else to say.

Enough time had already been
wasted.

Years had been wasted.

Years that Chris knew he’d never
get back.

Time couldn’t move backwards, it
could only move forward.

(14)

Once he got settled on the private
jet, the thoughts poured in. So many thoughts came at once Chris considered
having a drink (or three) to try to relocate. But before he could do that,
sleep came and took everything away. He welcomed the sleep, knowing that not only
did his body need it, but it would make the flight seem shorter. The quicker he
could get to North Carolina, the quicker he could get everything sorted out.
That was his last thought before he finally fell asleep.

When he woke it was just a short
couple hours later and the plane was beginning to make its descent near
Raleigh, North Carolina. The darkness of the early morning still consumed the
state, which meant Chris would have to get to a hotel and wait to begin his
travels until daylight came. Maybe Peter had been right to sleep on everything.
Chris would sleep in North Carolina. It would take away all thoughts of excuses
and reasons why he shouldn’t be there.

The plane landed and a car waited
for Chris.

As he walked from the plane he took
a second to realize just how far his life had come right then. That first night
he met Becky he was in a small bar causing trouble. The band flew rarely and it
wasn’t until that following tour that things really picked up. That next album
and tour were the reason why Chris could afford last minute plans like this.
The private jet. The black car. The hotel room. But it was also because of
Becky and what she had done. If that album and tour had been messed up for any
reason...

Chris walked from the plane to the
car. The driver offered to carry Chris’s guitar and bag but he declined. He
appreciated the luxury of his life in the sense of being able to travel and go
wherever he wanted when he wanted, but with two capable arms and legs, he would
not become lazy. He would carry his own bags. His own guitar. His bass.
Anything he could.

When he climbed into the car, he
rubbed his face, feeling like death and exhaustion had decided to take up real
estate in his mind, heart, and body. He had a hard time keeping his eyes open
for the thirty minute ride from the airport to the hotel. It was a little bit
of a treat to walk into the front of a hotel and not be ushered through the
back like a celebrity. But at the counter it took only a second for one of the
night staff to recognize him.

They looked at his reservation
under the fake name, Daniel Christopher.

The young woman behind the desk had
been studying out of a book when she saw Chris. She stood up and shook the
entire time she handled the paperwork and handed him key card.

“Can I ask you something, Mr.
Christopher?”

“Sure,” Chris said.

“You’re the bassist from Chasing
Cross.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Chris
said.

“Are you?”

Chris smiled. “Yes. I’m here on a
very private, personal matter.”

The young woman looked ready to
collapse. She bit her bottom lip, hesitating.

“But of course I’ll sign something
for you,” Chris said. “As long as you promise not to tell anyone until I’m long
gone.”

“I swear,” the young woman said.

Chris signed an autograph and took
a picture with the young woman. She had to be no more than twenty years old, if
that. Chris knew the picture and autograph would be online before he could get
into his room. That’s how dominant social media was these days. He didn’t care
though. If fans wanted to flock to a hotel in North Carolina, so be it. Once
daybreak came, he’d be in his rental car, driving east for a couple hours.
Nobody would ever see him or find him.

The actuality of social media had
an ugly face to it though. Danny had to live through it not too long ago when a
group of Chasing Cross fans showed up in Bakersville, Virginia, hoping to see
the band play at a small bar while they were in town to attend the funeral for
Danny and Johnnie’s father. Someone had posted a video online and it created
such a stir that so many fans showed up and the bar ended up burning to the
ground. But right then Chris didn’t worry so much. This was a large hotel.
Chasing Cross fans wouldn’t flock and burn it down.

Once inside his room, Chris went
right for the bed. He set the alarm next to the bed for four hours later. It
would be morning, daylight, and it would be time to think.

The four hour alarm came way too
fast as far as Chris was concerned. He got out of bed and ordered a big
breakfast and then grabbed his bag. He opened it and found the divorce papers
right on top, right where he left them. He had no idea where Becky lived or how
he was actually going to find her. All he had was the address to her lawyer’s
office. That gave him a general area, or so he hoped. He wasn’t sure if Becky
would use a lawyer out of state or hours away from where she lived. If she did,
that would just be the risk he’d face. Mentally, Chris gave himself one day to
do this. One day to find Becky and if it didn’t happen, then he’d fly to New
York, find Johnnie, and then just sign the damn papers.

That would be it then.

But it wouldn’t be for a lack of
trying.

As Chris ate breakfast, a serious
thought came to him.

It was something Peter had tried to
hint at in those early morning hours when the private jet waited back in
Syracuse. Something that Peter was probably right about. Something that he and
Becky sort of agreed to. Chris pushed the thought away and cleaned himself up
before leaving the hotel. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and then he was
out the side door of the hotel without a person seeing him. He knew he’d be
driving Peter crazy with requests but he also knew that Peter would comply.
This was all part of the job. Being a successful musician - or a rockstar -
didn’t just begin or end with the stage and the fans. There was so much more to
it, which Chris was just starting to understand. Chasing Cross was as close as
brothers, but when the lights were out on the stage, that’s when life crept its
way back in. That’s what made Peter a hell of a manager too. Sure, he was a
greedy pain in the ass, but he made the band a lot of money and he always
helped when needed.

The drive was long and lonely. It
was a serious dose of reality for Chris. Being on tour was busy all the time.
From the second he woke up on the road until he went back to sleep there was
always something to do. Interviews at radio stations, writing music, meeting
fans, making business decisions with the rest of the band - t-shirts, album
covers, their fan club - to getting to the shows, to the soundcheck, to the
meet n’ greets, to the actual show. Everything was like a well oiled machine
that never stopped.

But it was stopped now.

And Chris drove in a car by
himself.

The sudden silence was depressing.
That’s why, when there were breaks, the band tried to either spend the time
together or find something fun to do apart. That’s why, sometimes more often than
not, Rick went off into his world of drinking. And Chris had done the same in
the past too. In fact, there were a few times when he and Rick would set sights
somewhere in the Caribbean and end up in a drunken stir until Peter called to
tell them to board a plane back home for the rest of their tour.

That obviously wasn’t the case as
Chris traveled the North Carolina highways and roads, inching his way towards a
town called Plesent. Chris thought there was a typo in the name but sure
enough, it came up on the GPS as Plesent.

He listened to all the music he
could. He talked to himself. He looked to the divorce papers that were his
passenger. He tried to relax. He thought about life. Money. Love. Family.
Death. Anything to keep his mind settled, but it wouldn’t work. Because one
memory came back to him again.

He was back at the hotel, that day
with Becky. After his long talk with Peter and how to handle the situation. He
could still see her face, see her tears. And what he said to her and what it
meant.

He and Becky would stay married...
unless someone fell in love and was getting married.

Chris wasn’t getting married. Far
from it. As far as being in love... thinking about Becky brought back feelings
he hadn’t felt in years. But it didn’t mean he could be happy. Becky was the
one who sent the divorce papers.

And that meant Becky was either in
love or getting married.

Either way Chris came to the
realization that it was his turn to have his heart broken.

**

The morning went fast. Way too
fast. Becky couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or not. It was the
first time stepping into BRB Bakery since her mother’s passing. It was just a
short couple weeks ago that her mother insisted on being in the bakery to try
and help out. She could still her mother sitting at a table, greeting
customers, bragging about
the
girls
as her mother always referred to Becky, Rachael, and Deb.

Rachael stood behind the counter,
wearing a pink apron, her face looking somewhat beat up. It was more than
obvious that being in the bakery had taken its own toll on Rachael. When she
saw Becky, she perked up and smiled. A genuine smile, even in the middle of all
the strange feelings right then.

“Did you get it?” Rachael asked.

Becky nodded. She reached for the
inside of her bag and Rachael told her to stop.

“Let me get Deb,” Rachael said.
“She’ll want to see this too.”

“Okay,” Becky said.

Rachael left for the back room and
that left Becky alone in the bakery.

What a feeling.

So quiet.

The ovens were turned on and the
smell of bread and sugar lingered in the air. A mouthwatering smell, it was one
that everyone in Plesent had come to love. The business had been successful from
the second her mother opened it. It had only grown from there, bringing in
Rachael, Becky, and Deb. Becky used all her years of baking and experience to
offer different kinds of breads, especially during the holidays, making a
killing for the business.

But right then, in that moment, the
bakery felt dead.

It felt like a memory almost, one
that Becky could step into and relive. But it wasn’t the same because this
memory was reality and reality didn’t include her mother. Becky thought about
what her mother would have been doing right then if she were alive?

If it were a year ago. Two years
ago even.

She’d be standing at the counter.
Probably on the phone. She’d either be chitchatting with a customer, taking an
order, catching up on some small town gossip. Or she’d be on the phone with a
vendor, flirting, talking, making connections. That’s what her mother did. She
loved people and she loved to talk. It came as no shock that since her mother
passed away business had gone through the roof even more. So many people
wanting to order to show their support for the small bakery.

But something about the massive
amounts of orders bothered Becky.

She didn’t want the pity and she
didn’t want the reminder of it all.

Rachael and Deb came from the back.
Deb looked no better than Rachael did, which was certainly expected. Her
husband, Becky and Rachael’s brother, Timmy, was close to their mother. The
baby of the family, he was the only boy and he was definitely a mama’s boy.

“How’s Timmy?” Becky asked.

“He’s Timmy,” Deb replied.

“Shut down and pissed off?”

Deb nodded. “He’ll snap out of it
though. My grandmother always told me that when one life ended it was a chance
for another to begin.”

“Try living it,” Becky said.

“What I mean is...”

Deb touched her stomach and shrugged
her shoulders.

“What?” Becky asked.

Rachael smiled as tears came to her
eyes.

“You’re... you’re pregnant, Deb?”
Becky asked.

“Yes,” Deb whispered. “Officially,
yes.”

“How far along?”

“Ten weeks,” Deb said. “Doctor
confirmed it this morning for sure. I have pictures but I want Timmy to be the
first to see.”

Becky felt happy. Truly happy.
Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She put her hands to her mouth and
felt her legs bouncing.

A baby.

Another life.

A new life.

It wouldn’t replace her mother’s
life, no, but it was a pretty spectacular reminder of how beautiful life was.

“Hug her, dammit,” Rachael yelled.

Becky ran to her sister-in-law and
hugged her. “I’m so happy for you. Timmy is going to be so happy too.”

“I know,” Deb said.

“I just wish... Mom...”

Deb bit her lip and looked at both
Rachael and Becky.

“What?” Becky asked.

“I have a confession,” Deb said. “I
told her. When she was real bad, right before she passed. I whispered it into
her ear. I had been late, obviously, and I took some home tests. They all came
up positive. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone just in case it didn’t
work out. You know? I couldn’t imagine telling you all I was pregnant and then
losing it... it happened a few times before with me and Timmy. But when I knew
Mom wasn’t going to make it, I had to tell her.”

Becky was crying now too. “What did
she say?”

Deb laughed. “She hugged me and
said that if it’s a boy and anything like Timmy, to stock up on good brandy and
good books.”

All three shared a laugh, a few
more tears, and then Becky finally took what she brought out of her bag and
showed it to Deb and Rachael.

It was the picture of their mother,
the one Becky had picked out the night before. it was a beautiful picture.
Blown up to an eight by ten size in a frame, which would hang right in the
front of the bakery for everyone to see and remember their mother by.

“She’s so beautiful,” Deb said.
“You two look just like her. It’s amazing.”

“I think Rachael looks like Mom,”
Becky said. “I look like Dad.”

“No,” Rachael said. “Timmy is Dad,
all the way.”