Fully Automatic (Bullet) (44 page)

No…Brad knew, had always known Ethan had issues.  Lots of issues.  For some reason, he’d hoped Ethan would grow up, though.  The guy had a wife and kid to worry about now.  It was time for him to stop acting like a kid
himself and being selfish.  It was time for him to think about someone besides himself for a change.

But Brad was starting to wonder if Ethan would ever figure out how to do that.

Chapter Fifty-four

T
HE TOUR FINALLY ended, and—aside from canceling Fully Automatic’s part in one show—no harm was done because of Ethan’s little stunt.

Before they headed home, though, Brad made sure he had a chance to talk with Ethan.  It was a few months later, so his head had cooled, but he had a few things to say to his friend, and he was tired of holding them in.  He’d bitten his tongue for years, hoping Ethan would decide he was done.  Enough, though.  Enough.  Not only did Brad want to talk to him for the sake of Val and Chris, but also for Fully Automatic…and his friend himself.  Ethan was killing himself, and Brad was tired of watching it happen.

He texted Ethan early in the morning, and they were due to leave at eleven.  Ethan texted him back before ten, so Brad called.  “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you about a couple of things.  Wanna go find some breakfast before we hit the road?”

“Yeah.  Give me ten minutes.”

The hotel where they were staying had a little restaurant on the ground floor.  He didn’t know if Ethan had packed or anything, so he figured he’d save them some time by keeping it close by.  After a few minutes, he waited outside Ethan’s door.

No, it shouldn’t have surprised him when a blonde with double-D tits wearing a skimpy dress emerged first, giggling.  Ethan was smiling and slapped her on the ass as she started bouncing down the hall.  She turned around and blew him a kiss through red lips and then turned back around, making sure her hips swayed more than they needed to.

Fuck, no.  He wasn’t going to talk about
that
.  He was pissed that Ethan was still fucking around on Valerie, a woman who adored him and had given birth to his son, but Brad started to suspect all of it was interrelated.  Ethan was drunk and high—numb to the world—and the women were a part of that.  The guy had no self-control when he was under the influence, and he’d always been a sucker for a slutty girl.  Until he could maintain sobriety, the women would be a part of it.

And
that
was what Brad intended to address.  Ethan asked, “Where we goin’?”

“Downstairs.  There’s a restaurant on the premises.”

“Convenient.”

“Yeah.”
  They walked to the elevator together.  Brad was glad that Ethan at least seemed lucid this morning.  He noticed, though, that the guy was wearing sunglasses, probably to cover up a multitude of sins.  Brad could only imagine:  bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes, dark circles.  He’d seen it before.  All he asked for was attentiveness.  Fine if the evidence of his hard partying was mapped on his face.  Brad didn’t give a shit.  He just needed his friend present and accounted for this morning.

They got to the restaurant.  It wasn’t busy.  There were only two other tables with customers, so the waiter met them at their table almost immediately with menus and asked if they wanted coffee.

It wasn’t long before they’d ordered and Brad could talk.  He took a sip of his coffee and said, “No sense beating around the bush.  I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Goddamn.  I knew it was too good to be true.”

“What?”

Ethan shook his head and took off the sunglasses.  “We can’t just be old friends anymore.  You gotta ruin it with a lecture.”

“
A lecture?
”  Brad inhaled.  Maybe to Ethan it
would
seem like a lecture, and maybe that was why the guy wasn’t taking any of his words to heart.  That meant one thing—Brad had to strike hard.  “No, not a lecture, man.  We’re way past that.  Think of it more as an ultimatum.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared.
  “An ultimatum?”

Ethan was riling up, and this conversation wouldn’t be productive if he was pissed
off and tuning Brad out.  He took another deep breath.  “Fuck it.  Let’s start over.”  He shook his head.  “I’m worried about you, man.  We all are.  And we’re
tired
of worrying about you.”

“So don’t.  I’ve never asked for your concern.”  Ethan picked up his coffee and took a big swig.

“Ethan, you are my brother, man.  We’re all like brothers.  There’s no way we can turn that off.  You’re killing yourself.”

Brad saw Ethan’s jaw clench, but he didn’t talk right away.  “I look dead to you?”

“Not yet.  But how many comas now?  How many more before you decide enough?  I’m not talking to you as a guy you play with in a band.  I’m talking to you as a friend, Ethan.  I’m not the kind of guy to stage an intervention.  You know I don’t believe in that shit.  You gotta decide you’re done.  But I’m afraid you’re going to discover it in the afterlife, ‘cause I haven’t seen you have a revelation here.”

Ethan started to say something and then blinked.  He took another drink of coffee.  At first, Brad expected his friend to be bristly and crusty as he often got whenever anyone questioned or challenged him.  Instead, his voice got quiet and he looked into his cup of coffee.  Then he said,
“I can’t do anything anymore.  Not without something.  You know…a joint used to make me feel kinda peaceful, but it can’t touch shit anymore.  H, though—it drowns it all out, and when it doesn’t quite work, I drink too.  It’s the only way I can hang on.”

Brad hadn’t expected Ethan to be so forthcoming.  His friend wore chainmail
made of hate, anger, and indifference to cover all the scars, but now he’d taken it off and was standing bare in front of his friend.  That was a cry for help if Brad had ever heard one.

He hadn’t even had to pull
out the you-have-a-wife-and-kid card.

“What are you saying?
”

“
That dying doesn’t sound so bad.”

Brad felt like a wrecking ball slammed into his chest.  It made sense.  Ethan really was trying to kill himself with the poison he took.  He’d known Ethan for years and, for some reason, he thought distance and time
from his painful past would heal the man’s wounds.  Not so.  Apparently, now that Ethan
was
an adult, he was finding ways to cope with the hurt inside.  Brad thought he’d understood…but he must have had no idea.  “Are you serious, man?”  Ethan looked at his friend and shrugged but said nothing.  “We’ve finally made it.  We’re not rich, but you know it’s comin’, right?  And you have a wife who loves you, a beautiful son.  You have—”

“—everything anyone would ever want.  Yeah, I know that, and that’s just another notch of guilt to add to my frayed belt.”

Oh, fuck.  Ethan was way worse than he’d ever let on.  And then Brad felt like a total shitheel for never having noticed.  He sucked in another breath of air, now almost painful.  His friend was hurting, and he’d never seen it for all it was.  “What can I do?”

Ethan shook his head again, clenching his jaw.  “Nothing really.  There
’s nothing you
can
do.  Just…just stay out of my way and let me do what I gotta do.”

Brad was quiet, and the waiter brought their food out, asking if they needed anything else.  When they told him they didn’t, he
poured more coffee and walked away.  Brad wasn’t hungry anymore and his mind was racing.  Ethan was squirting ketchup over his hash browns when Brad was finally able to ask, “Have you ever thought about seeing somebody?”

Ethan smirked.  “What?  Like a shrink?”

Slowly, Brad started to nod his head.  “Yeah, I guess.  Like a shrink.  You know, somebody to talk to, somebody who can give you ideas of how to handle what you feel.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me what to do
or how to feel.”

Brad let the air out of his lungs.  He had to find a way to say what was on his mind.  “They’re trained to help, Ethan.  This shit’s way outta my league.  Hell, it’s outta your league too.  Aren’t you tired of suffering?”

Ethan shrugged.  Brad could tell he’d already put the coat of armor back on.  “I do what I gotta do.  It’s what’s made me who I am.”

Brad looked at him, waiting until Ethan at last looked up from his plate.  “Seriously, man.  If you need help, I’m here.”

His face was steel.  “I’m good.  I got this.”

Brad swallowed and picked up his coffee cup, nodding.  As he brought it to his lips, he wondered if Ethan would be around a year from now…and if there was any
way Brad could stop the man’s imminent self-destruction.

Chapter Fifty-five

WHEN THE BAND returned to Denver, Brad said they needed a break.  They’d worked their asses off the past several years, and now they could enjoy the spoils a little.  He insisted they meet once or twice a month to discuss plans, but he told them to focus on rest.  Write if they had to, he said, but rest.

He considered urging his friend once more to consider visiting a psychiatrist, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears.  He’d mentioned it once, and Ethan knew how he felt.  If he said it again, Ethan would ignore
it or actively decide to
not
do it.

Brad wanted to talk to Val and tell her about their discussion too and then thought better of it.  First of all, it was crossing the line she’d drawn between them when she’d accepted Ethan’s proposal of marriage.  Secondly, though, it would feel like he was betraying his best friend.  Ethan didn’t need them ganging up on him.  Brad hoped that being home around the people he loved who loved him back would be all the stimulus he’d need to decide to pursue professional help with all his demons.

That was all Brad had now—hope.  He’d led the proverbial horse to water, but he knew there was no way he could make the goddamned beast drink it.  Ethan had to decide for himself that that was what he wanted.

As the months passed and the band members met on occasion, though, Brad saw Ethan’s health declining instead of improving.  He was pasty looking.  He’d started getting a little chubby on tour, but now he’d been losing weight, and his cheeks were starting to look sunken in.  The dark circles under his eyes appeared permanent.

Brad bit his tongue, though.  He had to hope against hope that Ethan would get his shit together.  The man didn’t know it, but Brad had put him on probation.  If he was still in this shape in another five months—when the band planned to get together to start recording—the four guys were going to talk…and Ethan would maybe get the boot.  Brad just didn’t know that a dysfunctional Ethan was good for the band anymore.

He kept those thoughts to himself, though, even with Karen.  Karen should have been his friend and confidant, but she’d been growing more distant lately.  Brad suspected it was because he couldn’t give her what she wanted.  She’d been spending more and more time away, in spite of working less.  Sometimes she said she was hanging out with friends, but that didn’t explain her nights away.

It bothered Brad on the surface, but deep down, his thoughts were with Ethan, Val, and their child.  Brad stopped by once in a while to check in, but it got harder and harder to see the family in their natural habitat.  It was obvious to Brad that they were all suffering on one level or another.  Yeah, even the toddler.  His dad didn’t give him the attention and affection he was starving for.  Brad hoped his occasional appearance let them all know he supported them, but he started to wonder why he was tormenting himself.

He knew then that he couldn’t visit them anymore—not till Ethan was clean.

They ended their hiatus, trying to meet three times a week to write and rehearse, and things weren’t going well.

O
ne night, Brad was taking out the trash and saw a car parked in front of the house.  Karen had been itching for a fight all day.  She’d been picking and grousing, and Brad finally told her to shut the fuck up and slammed himself in his practice room.  After a while, he was hungry, though, and went to the kitchen.  Karen was chattering on her cell phone, oblivious to the state of the room.  It was a mess.  The dishes were dirty and the trash was overflowing.  He decided to take the trash out and then he’d wash the dishes…or go out for a bite to eat.  When he stepped outside, it took him a little bit, but he thought the car in front looked like Val’s.  He took the trash can back inside and set it inside the kitchen.  Karen was still sitting at the kitchen table gabbing with one of her friends, so he wasn’t even going to tell her what he was doing.  He walked back outside and toward the car in front.  As he got closer, he was sure he saw a person sitting inside.

He
leaned over and got close to the passenger window.  He was positive it was Val, so he rapped on the window.  No Ethan.  That was odd.  She rolled the window down and smiled.  It was dark and he wasn’t sure, but—smile or not—she didn’t look happy.  She seemed quiet too.  “Val, what the hell are you doing here?”  What shitty manners.  He couldn’t let his shock make him a bad friend or crappy host.  “Why don’t you come in?”  He saw Chris in the backseat.  “Oh, you brought the little guy.”  He glanced at Val and said, “Come on in.”  Then he opened the back door.  Chris was looking at him, wide-eyed and smiling, and he unbuckled the car seat.  “Hey, little buddy.  How’ve you been?”

Chris smiled and said something that Brad couldn’t translate.  Brad laughed, lifting him out of the car.  They walked up to the house in silence.

Once inside, Brad undid the straps holding Chris inside his car seat and lifted him up and out.  The kid looked so much like Ethan, it hurt, but he had a little Val in his features too.  He was a cute kid.  Chris touched Brad’s cheek with his hand.  Brad said, “Boo!” and Chris started giggling.  He set Chris on the living room floor and said to Val, “Have a seat.”  Val looked strange—almost timid, something he’d never seen from her.  She was closing herself off from him too.  What was she hiding?

He got closer, and that was when he saw marks on her neck. 
“What happened?”

Karen came in then.  Perfect timing.  He could feel her eyes on his back, burning a hole through him.  She said,
“Valerie.”  Her words were cold.  He didn’t need her being all weird, not right now.

Val gave her a tentative smile. 
“Hi, Karen.”

She didn’t want to beat around the bush. 
“Brad, can I talk to you?”

He didn’t even turn around to look at her. 
“Just a minute.”  He focused on Val.  He looked her in the eye, because he wanted honesty.  He feared he knew the answer, but he needed confirmation.  And if he was right, he was gonna fuckin’ blow.  “Did Ethan do this?”

He saw her eyes start to glisten, and that was all the answer he needed. 
What the
fuck
had Ethan done?
  It explained why she was here…and without her husband.  Karen said, “Brad.  I need to talk to you, please.”
Now?
  What game was she playing?  He knew, though—she knew Val had been number one in his heart, always would be, and the fact that she had come running to him told Karen probably everything she would ever need to know.  Her voice was almost a growl, and she was tired of waiting.  “Fuck it.  I’m outta here.”

Letting her leave wasn’t fair to her, though.  She’d been his companion for a while, had kept him focused and sane, and she was a friend if nothing else.  It wouldn’t be fair to just let her walk away.  But he wasn’t happy about it. 
“Karen…goddammit.”  He looked at Val, hoping she would understand.  “Give me a minute, Val.  I’ll be right back.”  He turned and looked at Karen, tilting his head toward the kitchen.  If she needed to talk, he didn’t want to do it in front of Val.  Val had enough of her own bullshit to deal with.  She didn’t need theirs too.

They got in the kitchen, and he was glad for the first time that it had a swinging door.  Karen could get loud and ugly when she was angry, and he could see it all over her face.  She’d been gearing up for a rager all day.  That was usually her excuse to leave and party all night with friends.  They’d done it enough that he knew, and he just didn’t care enough anymore to fight about it, especially when his friend was hurting and needed him.  Still, if he could help Karen through whatever shit was going on with her, he’d try.

It was hard, though, seeing the look on her face.  She was wearing a hell of a scowl.  “What’s going on, Karen?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“You think I’d ask if I did?”

She gritted her teeth and got close.  She pointed her thumb toward the living room.  “What?  Val didn’t do shit.  And I did
n’t invite her over.  She needs something, and I was trying to figure out what it is.  She’s my friend, Karen.  I’ve never told you who could be your friend, so don’t start with me.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Besides, you were on a tear long before Val got here.  What the fuck’s going on?”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t give me that.”

She got louder. 
“I’m done, Brad.  I don’t need this shit.”

In direct response to her volume, Brad lowered his.  “Look, Karen.  You and I both know now’s not a good time.  Can we talk about this later?”

If Karen hadn’t let off steam like this in the past, blowing on occasion like Old Faithful—regularly and without fail—her next words might have seemed to come out of the blue.  She took a few seconds, seeming to consider her response, but then she blurted it out.  “You’re an asshole.”

“Really?  Is that all you have to say?”

What she said next he hadn’t seen coming, and it told him all he needed to know.  “You know…I thought if I stayed, you could love me.  I thought you could forget this stupid hang up you have over that…
twit
, but you can’t.  You just can’t let it go, and this is the final straw.”

Yeah.
  Oh, God, he should have known.  Karen had grown to love him, and he didn’t know why.  He cared about the woman, yes, but he’d never love her the way she wanted, and seeing Valerie at her most vulnerable—that had been the confirmation Karen had been looking for.  She wasn’t willing to stick around when there was no way she’d be able to turn Brad’s heart around.  It had been her wish, her goal, and part of Brad had hoped she would be able to do it.  Having Val here now, though, hurting and needing him—it was all fresh again, like not a moment had passed, and Karen must have been able to see it on his face.  Still, he would live up to the title of
asshole
if he didn’t at least try.  “Karen…”

“No, I’m done.”

“Karen.”

“Fuck you, Brad.  I am sick and tired of competing with the memory of someone else.  I’m outta here.”

He shook his head.  He’d hurt her, pretty badly, it looked like.  “I’m sorry.”

She pulled her snug t-shirt down to her hips and blinked. 
“It doesn’t matter.  I called Jimmy anyway.  He’s already waiting for me.”

And those words confirmed the suspicions he’d been harboring for weeks.  Now he knew for sure
she’d been fucking around on him with a new tattoo artist who’d started working in the shop she did a few months earlier.  He couldn’t half blame her, though, and it was technically part of their original agreement.  Still, he knew when she’d moved in that she’d expected fidelity, and he’d made sure he was faithful to her.  He couldn’t just let it lie.  “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

Under her breath, she said, “So fuckin’ what?”  Then she flipped him off and shoved the kitchen door open, storming through the living room toward the bedroom.  God, she was ugly when she was pissed.  Her eyes were dark and venomous and he was frankly glad she was leaving.  For how long, he had no idea.  She’d done this before, though never quite on this level.

He stood in the living room looking at Val.  God, he felt like a dumb ass.  Karen was acting like a child, but he wasn’t about to apologize for her.  He winced but kept his eyes on the baby after his initial eye contact with Val.  She picked Chris up off the floor and sat him on her lap, probably afraid Karen would storm through the room again and knock her child on the floor.  He took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable, just waiting for Karen to leave.  He wasn’t going to discuss Val’s personal business until she was gone.

Karen was in the room in a matter of moments.  She was carrying a suitcase.  Wow.  She
was
serious this time.  She’d never packed before.  She got close to Brad and said, “Don’t bother trying to stop me.”  He wondered if that meant that she really
did
want him to stop her, but he wasn’t going to.  He was tired of the drama she’d whisked into his life.  He didn’t need it, especially because his heart wasn’t in it.  She stomped over to the closet, pulling out her purse, and then walked to the door.  “I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things.”  She slammed the front door with as much strength as she could muster, and Brad breathed a sigh of relief.

And, after all that, he wasn’t sure where to pick up with Val.  He leaned against the wall for a few moments, looking at Chris.  Finally, he said,
“Hey, little buddy.”  He smiled at the little guy, glad he was too young to understand what had been going on—with his parents or his “uncle,” as Val liked to call him.  He looked at her and asked, “Can he have a cookie?”

“Yeah…I think a little spoiling by Uncle Brad would be fine.”

He smiled and waved his arm toward the kitchen.  As they entered the room that felt like it continued to reverberate with Karen’s nasty little diatribe, he said, “Sorry you had to hear that shit.”  He pulled out a chair for Val and then started searching inside cabinets.  It didn’t take long until he found a box of vanilla wafers—good enough.  He pulled a couple out and walked over to the table.  He handed them to Chris, who smiled and took them.  Brad couldn’t help but grin back at the cute kid and he tousled his hair.  Then he sat down and said, “So…tell me what happened.”  He didn’t know that he wanted to know, but he needed to.