Love's Back Pocket (18 page)

Chapter 35

Holly stayed for a little over a half an hour with Brendan, Sandra, and the rest of his friends before she decided to leave. Sandra offered to walk her back to her hotel, which was just a few blocks away, claiming that it wasn’t safe for women, especially women who weren’t quite familiar with the city, to be walking around alone. When Holly pointed out the fact that Sandra would have to walk back alone, Sandra promised to take a cab back if that would make Holly feel better. Holly said that it would.

“I wanted to talk to you anyway,” Sandra stated.

Before she could elaborate on what she wanted to say, a crackle of thunder ripped the sky from above, and without warning, rain began to drop on the city’s inhabitants. Some women shrieked in surprise, while some men cursed, but oddly enough, all Holly could do was laugh. She remembered when she and Tommy had walked out in the rain, which only reminded Holly of her feelings for the man. She was sure her makeup looked absolutely ridiculous now, streaming down her face, but at that point, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she loved Tommy Nye, and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter if he didn’t like her back; she knew she wanted to tell him, and all she needed to do was to gather enough courage to do so.

It was then that Holly realized Sandra was still walking next to her, even in the rain. It would seem she enjoyed the weather as much as Holly did. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Holly asked, her voice raised only slightly so Sandra could hear her over the rain.

“Actually, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I wanted to talk to you about Tommy Nye.” And before Holly could intervene, Sandra said quickly, “Before you say anything, I know that it’s none of my business and you have every right not to tell me anything, but I feel that I should speak up because … well, I speak up about everything, so this really shouldn’t be any different.”

Holly’s lips curled up, relating to what Sandra was saying only because she felt the same way. It would seem that Holly had a take on everything, and if she felt it was necessary to speak up and say something, in all likelihood, she was going to do it.

“I know that I haven’t known you very long, and I’d be the first person to tell you that I don’t know Tommy Nye personally,” Sandra began, and Holly had a feeling a ‘but’ was coming around sooner or later. “But in the short time that I saw the two of you interact, I noticed something. I noticed that his eyes look different when they look at you. I can’t explain it, though for the past half an hour, I’ve been trying … trust me. But he views you differently than anybody else. It’s more than admiration or respect. It’s more than friendship. Because when he looks at you, there’s this sparkle in those eyes that’s not there at any other time.” She paused, realizing that she may be too presumptuous. “I mean, you may have a boyfriend or you may not particularly like Tommy Nye, I have no idea. What I do know is what I saw, and I just thought maybe you should know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Holly murmured, trying to keep her face passive, but in all actuality, she was screaming with happiness inside.

“I just want you to know,” Sandra added quickly, “that I’m not one of those girls who exaggerates when a guy looks at her friend. I would never lie to make you feel better.” She winced and then glanced over at Holly. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

Holly started chuckling, and met Sandra’s blue eyes with her brown ones. “Don’t worry about it,” she told Sandra genuinely. “Trust me. I do it all the time. No offense, but it’s nice to know that someone else does it besides me.”

Sandra began laughing along with Holly. “I totally understand,” she agreed, and the women continued to walk together in the rain through the streets of New York, chatting amiably.

--

Tommy couldn’t wait in his hotel room anymore. His mind was too consumed with Holly, too consumed with what she may or may not be doing with that prick, Brendan. But where could he go? When he was sitting on the couch, he had tried watching television, which didn’t work whatsoever. Then he tried listening to music, which didn’t distract him as much as he would have liked. And then he realized how dramatically his leg was jiggling up and down in utter anticipation because she hadn’t showed up yet. He wished he could barge in Mitch and Tanya’s room if only to ask Tanya if Holly was the type of girl to stay out late at night with a guy. She never seemed like such a person, but he recognized that he could have pissed her off slightly, and she might do it just to spite him. If Holly was one thing, Tommy knew how stubborn she could be.

He finally decided to go to the lobby and wait there. At least this way, he’d be able to see her come in. He wasn’t even interested in going to the hotel bar. In fact, he wanted to be sober for what he was about to do. Tommy intended to tell Holly what he felt about her, and even if she rejected him, at least he would finally have it off his chest. And who knows? Maybe she felt the same way about him? Tommy wouldn’t get his hopes up, but it was a nice feeling, nonetheless.

Because he was so antsy, he refused to take the elevator and instead decided on the stairs, despite the fact that he was on the seventh floor. It felt good to have his energy being used on something other than jiggling his knee up and down. When he reached the bottom floor, Tommy pushed the door to the stairway opened and immediately noticed from the surrounding windows it was raining outside. He must have been so distracted with his thoughts that he hadn’t realized it before.

But no matter.

The singer strode over to the empty lobby and plopped down on a comfortable beige chair, giving him the perfect view of the lobby door. Though a couple of the hotel staff looked at him oddly, he paid them no mind. His mind’s focus was on Holly and Holly alone.

And then, just like that, she appeared. She was soaking wet, with hair matted to her face, and the makeup that she had worn was running down her cheeks. Goose bumps occupied the majority of her skin, but oddly enough, she was still smiling. And it was the most beautiful sight Tommy had ever seen before. He stood, shaken slightly, but managed to do so nonetheless, his mouth ajar as he took her in. There was a burning desire in him to go to her, but he felt frozen. He couldn’t move.

Then, as though she could feel his familiar eyes on her, she turned, and it was like she was staring straight into his soul. Except now, he didn’t mind it. If anything, he wanted her to look at him. She paused for a moment, just looking at him, until her feet started moving on their own accord toward him, and only chose to stop when she was a foot away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before he realized his lips had been moving.

Holly furrowed her brow, unsure what he was sorry for but all thoughts vanished when he reached toward her with the intent to touch her face.

“May I?” he asked. Holly remained unmoving, but didn’t say no, and so Tommy took that as permission to cup both cheeks with his hands. Very gently, he moved his thumbs in order to wipe the makeup off of her face as best as he could. “I like you better without all of this on,” he murmured in explanation.

“Tommy, there really is something I should say,” Holly said, but Tommy quickly touched his index finger to his lips.

“Let me get this out, Holl,” he pleaded, his voice low, his tone serious. “I know that I’m an arrogant asshole, and for some reason, I seem to really enjoy upsetting you. I didn’t like the fact that you can see through me, and yet I’ve never felt as drawn to anyone as I am with you. I’ve had a pretty shitty past, and it hasn’t made me a great person, but when I’m around you, I want to be a better man. You bring out the best in me, Holly. And that’s one of the many reasons why I love you.” He paused, cocking his head to the side, before asking, “Now what was it you wanted to say?”

Holly stared at him, completely in shock. Not because of what he had said, mind you, but because it was somehow so easy for him to say it. Even when he was confessing his love, he managed to irk her just a bit. However, she took a step toward him, closing the distance and crashing her lips against his. She had wanted to do that for a long time, but hadn’t had the courage to do so until that moment.

“Does that mean you love me back?” Tommy teased once the couple broke apart, the left corner of his lip lifting upward, easing into a smirk, as his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Though you make it quite difficult,” Holly murmured, liking the way he left an aftertaste in her mouth, “I must admit that I do love you back.” Tommy’s smile eclipsed genuinely. “But don’t expect me to sleep with you any time soon,” Holly added as she broke apart from him and turned to head toward the elevators.

“Let’s not be so conclusive on that count,” Tommy called after her before jogging over to the waiting woman. “Perhaps we could say maybe on the whole issue. What if I try to persuade you? I could make it the time of your life …”

Epilogue

Rolling Stone

October Issue

By Tyler Lindin

Pictures by Sabrina Kale

The cover is a close-up of Tommy Nye, lead singer of eighties band
The Futurists
. It’s predominantly of his face, though his neck and the outline of his shoulders are there as well. He is wearing nothing but an orange hoodie, the hood hugging the crown of Tommy’s head. His pale green eyes are staring into the camera, but he’s not quite looking there; his mind is somewhere else. His lips are slightly parted, as though he has seen something that has surprised him. There’s stubble around his lips, but it’s not too bad. The orange hoodie is slightly unzipped, revealing sprinkles of dark hair covering Tommy’s upper chest.

The next picture is of Tommy dressed up as a bandit from the Wild West. His has a classic black bandana on the lower half of his face, and his brows are pushed down as he looks at an impending train that’s heading toward him on train tracks. He’s wearing a white collared shirt with a black vest over it, dark blue jeans that fit him well, gun holsters that zig zag across his chest, and black cowboy boots. A matching hat is resting on his head. A pistol is cocked in his right hand, pointed at the train. An unknown woman is tied up, her body resting on the train tracks. If Tommy can’t stop the train, then she’s done for. The woman’s red hair is pinned up, though because of her struggle, it has become messy and has covered the majority of her face. The bold, blue dress she’s wearing is ridiculously tight, showing a lot of cleave due to the rope’s enhancement of her chest. Her legs are covered in fishnet stockings, and on her feet are matching blue high heels.

The next picture is of Tommy, dressed as a pirate. His dark hair is messier than usual, and the shot is of the profile of his body. He is wearing a white tunic, a blue bandana wrapped around his waist much like a belt, brown breeches, and matching, though very worn, knee-length boots. His eyes are focused on the woman before him, though it is impossible to see her face because her back is angled toward him. Her red hair is pooled over her right shoulder so the back of her dress is exposed. Tommy’s arm is reaching out toward her, his fingers holding a thick part of the lace that is keeping the corset she is wearing together and pulling, with obvious intent to undress her. She is wearing a very nice dress, obviously higher in status than he is, but because her back is slightly arched in his direction, it is clear that she wants him to do what he intends to do.

--

Tommy Nye has had an interesting year. His summer tour he and his band,
The Futurists
, went on did exceedingly well—better than anybody thought. This, of course, has inspired the band to go back in the studio, recording their fifth official studio record. Nye, notorious for his arrogant charm and bad boy ways, seems to have calmed down just a bit. I watch him come in to the small café he recommended in Los Angeles with shades over his eyes, jeans, his infamous combat boots, and a plain grey fitted T-shirt. What strikes me the most is that he seems … relaxed. Where is the party boy, the groupie king, the energetic animal we all knew from the late eighties and early nineties? Has he completely disappeared?

“No,” Tommy answers when I ask him this question, shaking his head and chuckling a bit. “But let’s face it. I’m nearly forty years old. No one’s going to take my music seriously if
I
don’t take it seriously, so that’s where my focus has been.”

His fourth studio album, named aptly after the band, bombed when it was released, and that’s putting it lightly. It consisted of more techno than what
The Futurists
were known for—rock—and many of his fans cried sell-out. Was he taking his music seriously then?

“Nah,” Tommy said, seemingly open to speak about anything really. “No, I wasn’t. My life was focused on the drugs, the drinks, the parties, the women. It wasn’t about the music, and that’s why the album sucked as hard as it did. I was fucking around. But, I learned my lesson.”

Or had he? The man is known for frequenting rehabs, totaling three stays and two relapses. So far, so good. Is he ever tempted to go back to his old habits, whether it’s drinking, snorting, injecting, or fucking?

“Since leaving Forest Green [the name of the third rehabilitation he stayed at, located in Colorado], I have never been seduced into wanting any sort of drug, not even weed,” he says firmly, seriously, before pushing his shades up so they rested on top of his dark hair. I can see his eyes now. “I can’t believe I was ever into that shit, but it’s kind of like high school.” Here, he shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “If you mix in with the wrong crowd, you’re going to do something bad sooner or later. But old habits die hard. There are times when I’m tempted to drink, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle it, to control myself, so I stay away. Lucky for me, my girl doesn’t drink so, if anything, she’s a good influence on me.”

So fucking is all right, just not with the usual groupies. The girl he mentions is Holly Dunn, his former inter-therapist. She recently graduated from UCLA with the intent to practice psychology, and became an aid to Victor Johnson, Tommy’s long-term psychologist, and managed to do a portion of her required thousand hours while on tour with the band.

When asked about her, it appears as though resident bad boy Tommy Nye is blushing. His eyes are staring down at the saucer that currently houses his coffee cup and there’s this secret smile on his face that reveals everything and nothing at the same time.

When I think he won’t talk about her, he lifts his eyes and says, “She’s amazing, man. I can’t believe she likes somebody like me.” It is here I should note that the two are nearly polar opposites. “But what can you do? I just gotta thank God for it, you know? Who knows where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for her? She brings out the best in me.”

And how did they meet, one might inquire?

“I’ll never forget this in my entire life,” he begins. Now his eyes travel toward the ceiling and his smile widens. It’s another inside joke, but this one, I’ll soon be privy to. “Her friend Tanya [engaged to
Futurist
drummer Mitch Sandburg] all but dragged her to see us play [at Hollywood’s House of Blues on the Sunset Strip], and even then she was studying for her final. So I called her out on it. I called her onstage, and then let her use the backstage to study. When I talked to her more, I invited her on tour. I’m not exactly sure as to why I did that, it just kind of happened. And man, she
hated
me. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. But we were always butting heads. I liked it. She’s really cute when she’s angry. But for some unspoken reason, she fell in love with me, and we’ve been together ever since.”

And will this relationship last?

It takes a long moment before Tommy responds. “One can only hope,” he tells me, his voice somber and yet hopeful at the same time. “I mean, I’ll never let her go if I can help it.”

So groupies don’t tempt him even in the slightest?

“I find it refreshing to wake up in the morning next to someone who knows all of my flaws and still loves me,” Tommy says, and then furrows his brow. “Ah. That sounded really corny, didn’t it? Oh well.” Again, he shrugs. “Groupies are in love with what they think you are. They want to fuck you because fucking a rock star is the closest they’ll come to fucking a god. But they don’t give a shit about you. And before, it was fine because I didn’t give a shit about them. I still don’t, but I just don’t feel the need to go fuck ’em anymore.” His arms are crossed over his chest now, and his back is leaning against the back of the chair.

So the main focus then, is the music.

“The main focus is and will always be family,” Tommy corrects me, though there’s no animosity in his voice. “But, see, I’m lucky because my family supports and encourages me with my music. But my creative energy is solely focused on my band and our music. We take it seriously, of course, but we like to have fun, too.”

And the new album?

“It’s like our older stuff,” he promises with a mysterious twinkle in his eye. “None of that futuristic shit. Just hardcore rock and roll. I guarantee you it’s going to kick ass.”

For whatever reason, I believe him.