Finding My Way (22 page)

Changing my number was hard, but I did it. I couldn’t take the crying anymore. She wasn’t even asking me to come back, just crying and telling me how much she hates me. I hate me, she doesn’t need to remind me of it, but damn if I don’t want her to ask me to come home or to call her. My heart breaks each and every time I re-listen to the message I saved. I know the damage I’ve done because I live with it every day. I wake up in a cold sweat wondering if I’ve made the right choice, but deep down I know that I have. I can’t be what she needs, not right now. My only hope is that when I go back home in a year she can forgive me. I’m not counting on it. Hell, I wouldn’t forgive me and I know I’ve got my work cut out to convince her to give me another chance. But on the off chance that she does, I know I’ll never fuck shit up with her again. That’s still my plan – to go back in a year – to fix things. I don’t know if it will work, but I’m going to try. I have to. I have to show her that what I did, I did for us. That if we had continued down the path, I would’ve self-destructed and I couldn’t take her with me.

I miss her. I miss her so much it hurts to breathe sometimes. I have a few pictures of us together that I keep in my bedside table, but I try not to look at them. I try not to put myself through the pain of seeing her smiling face stare back at me. I can hear her angry words, the sobs coming from her as she screamed into the phone. Each one twists like a knife in my heart making it shatter into a million pieces. Gram says I’ll heal and that it takes time. For me, this feels infinite.

“Are you going to change?” I look down at my shorts and flip-flops and look at my grandma who is dressed in a gold shimmery dress. How I know what the word “shimmery” even is, is beyond me. It’s amazing what you learn when you’re the bag boy for a Rodeo drive shopping trip. I don’t mind though.

“I do believe the clothes that are lying on my bed are for me to wear and not donate?” I ask, trying not to laugh. I finish hooking a string of lights around some garlands before giving her my full attention. “Yes, I’m going to change. I didn’t want to get my suit dirty.”

“Mhm,” she says, giving me the stink eye. She loves me, but loves to act like I’m pissing her off. “The guests will be here any moment and I’d much prefer my grandson looking dapper and not like a homeless bum hanging on the Boardwalk.”

“Hey now, I don’t look like a bum.”

She raises her eyebrow and I concede. I kiss her on the cheek and hustle off to my room. When you think about it, she’s not much different from Sterling. Both have social agendas and high standards. My grandma just goes about things differently. Her thoughts on who or what someone should be isn’t the “be all that ends all”, not like Sterling. He has to be the only master in the house and you have to live by his rules. There’s no live and learn where he’s concerned.

W
hen I come out – dressed to impress per gram’s wishes – there are already enough party-goers lingering that I have to side step to get around them. A man sits at the baby grand piano and plays Christmas carols while people gather around. The terrace doors are open allowing the overflow to filter out back. Chinese lanterns are floating in the pool, each one carrying a tea-light candle. And while we may be missing snow, the ambiance screams winter and Christmas.

I look around for Harrison, finally spotting him at the table that we often sit at. It’s away from the crowd and noise and just about perfect for me. A few people stop me on my way to meet up with him and I have to make idle chitchat. Everyone here is an industry executive – that has been drilled into my head repeatedly – and while I haven’t asked my grandma to call anyone on my behalf, I know the importance of who these people are. At any given time one of them could make or break me. I’d rather it be the former. I know they’ll ask for a demo and I don’t have one yet. I’m also trying to do this on my own. All I need is a little faith.

“Hey man,” I greet him as I sit down. I pull out my pack of cigarettes and lay them on the table before taking one out and lighting it. I don’t even know how this became a habit for me, but it is. I used to live by the adage that my body is a temple and all that shit. Not anymore. Aside from a daily run and lifting some weights, I’m not watching what I’m eating or putting into my system, nothing illegal aside from beer and a few different kinds of liquor.

“How’s it going?” he nods his head.

I look around and laugh. “Another party,” I shake my head. “I used to look forward to a good party, but nothing like this.”

Harrison chuckles and kicks back in the chair. Once again he has a hat on and it makes me wonder how he gets away without dressing up for something like this. Everyone else is dressed to the nines and he’s sitting here in slacks and a dress shirt. Makes me a bit jealous, if I’m being honest. I pull at my tie, loosening it a bit. I should be out there mingling and making connections. Grandma has expressed the importance of networking, yet here I sit far away from the party, watching from the outside.

“You know she’s doing this for you, right?”

I look at Harrison questioningly.

“I’m just saying my mom is here maybe once or twice and then you show up and we’re here every month it seems like, and suddenly I’m invited over.”

“You hadn’t come over before until I got here?”

He shakes his head, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “My sister, yeah, but not me. I tend to keep to myself and am usually at
Metro
.”

“Why’s she doing this?” I ask, curious as to what he thinks is going on with my grandmother.

He shrugs. “The only thing I can think is she’s trying to get you noticed which is why she sent you with me that night. I know you don’t know anyone, but if you look to your right, the man wearing fedora is Anthony Moreno. He’s an entertainment guru, owns a few different companies. He’s talking to Ness Cacco…” he trails off. He doesn’t have to tell me who Ness Cacco is. Not only does he have mob ties, he’s one of the best directors in cinematography. The girls have gone stupid crazy over his movies and now he’s standing not twenty feet from me. The excited faces of the girls are flashing like a bright beacon in front of my eyes. They’d love this moment.

“Where’d ya go?”

I look down at the ground and shake my head slightly. “If she’s doing this for me I should probably do something about it, right?”

“I would. I’ve been playing for various bands for a few months now and I think you have a lot of talent. Personally, I think Trixie is just messing with you. You’re drawing a sizable crowd during Happy Hour and I think she doesn’t want to lose it. If I were you, I’d be out there talking to these suits. Some might ask for a demo so make sure you have plenty on hand.”

I look at him sharply, amazed that he can read my mind. “I don’t have one.”

“What?” he scoffs. “I thought you were a musician?”

“I am.” I shrug. “I know I need one, I’m just not sure how to go about it.”

Harrison laughs. “You ask someone for help. I’ll help you make one. You’re too good to be playing at
Metro
.”

“So are you,” I add.

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone says that, but no one is doing anything about it when they sign their deals. Besides, I like it there. It’s stable and pays my bills.”

I nod, pretending to understand. He’s really good on the drums and better than some of the bands that come in. I’ve seen the way he looks at people when they’re celebrating that they’ve just signed. I sit there and think about how he helped them. How he was an essential part in getting them the attention, yet they’re not taking him with them. Maybe he’s content being behind the scenes. That can’t be me though. I came here to make it or at least try too lately I’ve been satisfied with sitting on the wooden stool with Harrison playing behind me while I entertain the working class. I see so many
suits
that I can easily say I have regulars. I don’t care how much Trixie likes me playing that time slot, I need to move on or I’m going to be stuck in a rut with nowhere to go. I need to make a change.

And I need to make it now.

“Will you help me cut a demo?” I ask, unable to make eye contact.

“Yeah, I’d be –”

He’s interrupted when someone screeches his name. My first thought is that my grandma has invited one of his groupies. But that thought changes when I see his face light up. The girl running toward him is excited to see him as well. He stands just as she jumps into his arms. I know I should look away, give these two love birds some privacy, but they’re happiness is infectious. I had that once.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says as he sets her back on the ground. “Let me introduce you to my friend.”

When he says
friend
it hits me square in the chest. He’s my first friend here and even though my grandma says trust no one, I want to trust him.

“Liam, this is my sister, Yvie.”

My eyes bug out of my head. My initial thought of this girl being his girlfriend was so far off base, but the way they greeted each other was odd.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, standing and shaking her hand.

“Hi,” she replies shyly, her voice soft and low. I nod at her and sit back, but not without noticing that she’s biting her lower lip and her hands are fiddling with the hem of her sweater. She’s dressed like someone from the fifties with her poufy dress and ballet flats.

“Yvie was just accepted into one of the best dance schools. The competition is tough, but she nailed her audition.”

“Harrison, he doesn’t want to hear about that. It’s so stupid,” she asserts in a hushed tone.

I disagree. “I think it’s great. Congratulations.”

She smiles brightly. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” she replies, her eyes in a dreamlike state. Her eyelashes are fluttering and her head is slightly bent. She glides slowly, as if she’s dancing and sits down in the empty chair between Harrison and me. She rests on her hand and looks at me, making me feel somewhat awkward.

Harrison clears his throat. “So the demo?”

“Oh you’re a musician?”

“Yvie, what are you doing?” Harrison asks, his voice quizzical.

She doesn’t look at him when she answers. “Learning about Liam.”

I smirk and fool around with my lighter. “Knock it off. It’s creepy,” Harrison adds. My lips go tight as I try not to laugh, but yeah I agree with him. “So about the demo, tomorrow?”

I nod. “Yeah that works.”

“Great, now go network. Go meet people, Liam, that’s why they’re here.”

I look around and notice the party has almost doubled in size, at least the people who are hanging out in the backyard has. I get up, take a deep breath and fix my tie. Here goes nothing.

Chapter 34

I
finish my four-song set and vacate the stage with Harrison quickly on my heels. It’s been months since I started performing at
Metro
and I still haven’t even come close to the coveted time-slot that I want. To say it’s taking a toll would be an understatement. I don’t know what else to do. I’m frustrated, tired and wondering if I’m ever going to get a look. If not, someone needs to tell me because my year is almost up and I’m either going back to Beaumont as a musician or a statistic. I prefer the former, but at this point I don’t think it’s going to happen.

Tonight, I don’t feel like hanging out. I think Harrison knows this. He’s quiet and sitting in his corner messing around with his drumsticks. He’s more than likely feeling the same dejection I am. Since I’ve started playing here I’ve seen six artists get signed, including Layla. They all played the prized performance time and they all left Harrison behind. It has to get to him. Hell, I feel angry for him. I’m pissed for me. I know I’m drawing a crowd, but I’m not rewarded and I’m beginning to think it’s time I start playing in other bars. I’m stupid to put all my eggs in one basket.

I zip up the canvas case that protects my guitar and sling it over my shoulder. Harrison looks dejected and I don’t know if it’s because I’m bailing or if he’s genuinely hurt that he can’t get a big time gig. He deserves it more than the people he’s playing for.

“I’m going to head home,” I tell him, stating the obvious. I have a lot of thinking to do and need to do it in the quiet of my bedroom. Since Christmas, I’ve sent out about one hundred demo tapes and have yet to receive a call. I knew it was a long shot, but thought with all the networking I’ve done at the parties my grandma had been having for me, I’d at least get a bite. This is probably a sign, a large neon blinking sign telling me that I’m grasping at straws.

“It’s gonna happen, man. It just takes time.” Harrison speaks not to me, but to the wall. He doesn’t look at me, leading me to believe it’s just words to keep me coming back.

“I should probably start playing in other bars. I have a feeling that Trixie either doesn’t like me or doesn’t think I can handle the after dinner crowd. I’ve watched acts move past me and get signed just like that. I gave myself a year to do this and that year is almost up.”

“What happens after a year?”

I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I go home.”

“Which is where?”

I sigh heavily and realize I can probably tell him anything at this point. He’s the only friend I have here so what’s it going to hurt if he knows?

“Home is nowhere and everywhere I guess. I’m running from my previous life where I’m the town’s prized possession and it didn’t matter what I did, I could do no wrong.

“Anyway, I ditched, let people down and now I’m here. I told myself I’d do this for a year and then go home. I either go back a loser or I head home for a visit because I’m so busy I can’t stay for too long.”

Harrison rotates on his stool with his hands resting in his lap. “You shouldn’t put a time limit on success.”

I nod, agreeing with him, but this is different. “I know, but I have to make amends for my actions. I figured one year is enough time for people to take me seriously when I tell them that I needed a different life from the one they had planned for me. Thing is, if I go back a failure, my dad will never let me live it down.”