Rhythm in Blue (23 page)

Still crushed against the wall by his weight, Shelby struggled to catch her breath and pushed harder until Rick relented and backed away. The color in her cheeks grew brighter until she pointed to the door and screamed, “Get out!”

He was still a little dizzy as he moved to leave. “Shelby,” he stared at the floor as though it held a clue to the right thing to say. “Don’t –” He looked up just in time to see the wooden plaque flying at his face, but too late to stop its impact.

“Get out!”

~

The ride back to the hotel was a quiet one, the silence broken only when Devon asked, “How the hell did you manage to fall down in the bathroom?”

Pressing the bag of ice to his bandaged cheek, Rick stared out the window. “The floor was wet.”

“It’s gonna scar. You should probably have stitches,” Keith said.

“It’s fine.” Shelby could throw everything in her room, Rick mused, but she had still kissed him back.

After another long silence, Randy asked, “Does Shelby remind you of anyone?” He directed the question to no one in particular.

Finally, Devon answered, “Yeah, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Remind you of who?” Rick asked.

Keith chuckled and shook his head. “You seriously don’t see it?”

“Huh uh, who are you guys talking about?”

They all looked at him and each other, then in unison they said, “Beth.”

~

Rick entered his hotel room and headed straight for the phone. He sat on the bed, dropped the ice pack, and dialed the number. It took several attempts as his hands shook uncontrollably. When the connection was made, he began: “Hey, I need to talk to you.” He swallowed hard and sighed, wrapping the phone cord around his fingers to still them. “Something happened last night…I…I slept with someone. I’m sorry – I know you said you wouldn’t put up with me sleeping around.”

~

When he hung up, he walked to the mirror, quickly ran a comb through his hair, popped three pain pills, bared his teeth at his bruised reflection in contempt, and headed for the door. He left his room, walked down the hall, and pressed the button for the elevator that would take him to the lounge where he would begin his hunt.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Winter 1983

Rick heard the yelling throughout the hallway as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out. He stopped and listened for a minute to make sure the yelling was coming from the place he suspected. He backed up into the elevator and held out his arm to keep the doors from closing. His hand reached out to push the button for the lobby, but he stopped before his finger hit the opaque, plastic circle. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the hallway, and headed for the commotion.

Slowly, he approached the door to Randy’s apartment, listening carefully to determine a cause. Morgan’s voice was too shrill to be understandable through the barrier of walls. Here and there, he could hear Randy’s voice, low and calm, but he was never able to get much out before Morgan started back up again.

When Rick reached the door, he raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles reached the wood, he clearly heard Morgan shout, “In our bed? I want to know, how many have there been in our bed?” Rick lowered his hand back to his side.

Once again, he could hear Randy’s calm voice, but couldn’t make out what he said. “Don’t fucking lie to me Randy! I know you have, the bloody neighbors even saw you!” Even though he could now understand what Morgan was saying, the sound was just as shrill and sent chills down his spine.

He froze in place, unsure of what to do. Randy was expecting him, and if Rick left, he knew Randy would be pissed, but the thought of getting sucked into the nasty argument sounded even worse, so he turned and headed back toward the elevator. Just as he reached the doors, the sound of the fight exploded into the hallway.

Rick quickly sidestepped into a hidden covey, hoping neither had seen him. Morgan still yelled, but Randy’s voice drew near and now held signs of great irritation. Rick hid behind a large, plastic tree in the corner as Randy reached the elevator and pressed the
down
arrow.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away from me? You have nothing else to say, you arse?” Morgan yelled after him.

Addressing the elevator doors, Randy said, “I could say ‘fuck you,’ and ,‘get your shit out of my apartment,’ but that would be mean. And besides, I’m pretty sure you already know all that.” When the doors opened, Randy said, “Come on Ricky, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Rick sidled out from behind the tree and jumped to join Randy in the elevator. He turned and looked down the hall at Morgan as the doors closed. Tears streamed down her face – she looked devastated. Rick felt a pang of regret at leaving her like that, so obviously wounded, but Randy was like his brother and he had no choice.

When the doors closed, he asked, “How did you know I was there?”

Randy rolled his eyes and shook his head, “There’s a mirror right above the elevator.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Rick noticed the mirror every time he visited Randy’s apartment. “Are you sure you’re up for this tonight? We don’t have to go, we can just go do something else you know.”

“No, I’m not up for it. The last thing I want tonight is a big label party. Let’s just find some dive bar and get drunk.”

Laughing, Rick said, “Alright, we’ll do that. I didn’t really want to go, anyway.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the lobby. “You park in the garage?”

“No, got a spot right in front,” Rick said, pointing to the glass doors.

The two men walked out into the cold night air. Rick turned toward his car, but Randy remained in front of the building. Turning back towards him, Rick asked, “Are you having second thoughts? Do you want to go back up?”

“Hell no, I’m done with that bitch.” He stared into the street and added, “For good.” Rick thought he looked lost, and he doubted Randy felt as resolute as he was trying to sound.

“Okay. But didn’t you want to go somewhere?” Rick asked, waving Randy toward his car.

After some thought, Randy said, “There’s a small bar around the corner, real quiet place. Can we just go there?”

“Sure.” Rick shoved his keys back into his pocket. Randy led him down the block and around the corner to an inconspicuous building. Only one small window was visible. A dull, neon
Open
sign took up most of the window’s space. The door was plain, with black, stick-on letters warning, ‘No Minors.’

As they entered the bar, the stench of stale beer hit Rick like a wave. The thick cigarette smoke mixed with dim light to create a gray-like aura. For its size, the place was busy. Eight patrons sat at the small bar, and of the six tables, four had occupants. Randy pulled a chair out from one of the empty tables and sat.

“Get me a beer, Ricky.”

Rick, just about to sit himself, stopped halfway. He stood back up, a little surprised by Randy’s demand, but headed toward the bar. Randy called after him, “No, make it something stronger, and get me a shot of something, too.”

Rick ordered them both a Crown and Coke, and two shots of tequila. Carefully, he cradled the four glasses in his hands and headed back to the table. The drinks barely hit the table before Randy had both shots downed. Rick took his seat, holding his own drink to keep it safe from his greedy friend. While irritated with Randy for drinking his shot, he figured another one was only twenty feet away if he really wanted it.

Rick waited for Randy to speak, but when he didn’t, Rick said, “I hate to say it, but I told you so.”

“Shut up. I really don’t want to hear that right now.”

“Come on man, what did you think was gonna happen? Did you think she was just gonna stand by, like a good little woman while you got your kicks?” He leaned back in his chair to observe Randy’s reaction. Morgan wasn’t the type who would choose to remain ignorant of his obvious indiscretions, but that didn’t seem to make much difference to Randy.

“No, I guess I just hoped she’d never find out. I was gonna stop, break things off, but it’s just so hard to do.”

“Break things off with who? It’s not like you had a relationship going. Just because you screw some chick more than once doesn’t make you involved, especially when you’re doing so many of them.”

“So many of them? It’s only been Karen.”

“Karen? What about that girl in Wichita?”

Randy’s eyes glazed over as he recalled the dark haired beauty he’d brought on the bus just before they’d come home. “Yeah, she was amazing.” Rick had watched the two of them at the back of the bus as the girl’s head dropped below the level of the seats and Randy’s expression changed to the glazed look he wore now, before turning back to his book.

“And don’t forget the chamber maid.”

“You knew about that?”

Rick nodded his head. “Randy, we all knew about that.”

“Those didn’t mean anything though. They just – happened. You know how it is. Hell, even Karen doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Then why do it? And what I don’t get is how you could be so nasty to Morgan? It’s you who fucked up, not her.”

“Yeah, I know. I just was so sick of her going on and on. I confessed when she accused me, I said I was sorry, but even after that, she just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

“You thought she’d forgive you, just because you said ‘sorry?’”

“No, I didn’t. I just couldn’t stand to listen to her going on about how hurt she was. It hurt me too, you know.”

Rick couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew the only reason Randy hurt right now was because he got caught. It had nothing to do with remorse for what he’d done to Morgan. Tomorrow, he hoped Randy might feel hurt for the right reasons, but it was hard to tell how he would react. Rick signaled the bartender for another round.

“You had it right all along, Ricky. We’re too young to be settling down, we should be living it up, and taking pussy wherever we can. Ditching Beth was the smart thing to do and you should ditch this new chick too. I just wish I’d a figured it out sooner.”

The comment stung, so Rick told him, “No, you’re wrong. We’re too old to be acting this way. It’s stupid.” Rick tipped his glass back to make sure he hadn’t missed any of the remaining liquid. He’d run into Beth several times since the phone call. At first she was angry, but then wanted Rick back, promising they could work things out – she’d do anything. Beth deserved better.

“So what? You think things are gonna work out between you and this chick you’re seeing?”

“Tammy,” Rick reminded him. “I hope so.”

“What’s she like?”

When the bartender brought their drinks, Rick grabbed his shot glass before Randy could reach it, and downed the tequila. “She’s amazing, gorgeous, intelligent, funny, and… it’s like she knows me better than I know myself. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t met her yet. You’ve been seeing her, what, over a month?”

Rick nodded, “Yeah, but she travels a lot for her job. I hardly get to see her myself.”

“At least that gives you a lot of time to yourself. How’s the writing going? Having any luck?” Randy asked, holding his shot glass into the air for the bartender to see. “You know, we’re supposed to start recording in just a couple of weeks.”

“No. Everything I come up with seems lame.” He reached over and pushed Randy’s arm back down. “Maybe you should slow down. It’s early yet.”

Shoving the glass to the table’s center, Randy said, “Yeah, that’s the drawback when the first thing you create is a fucking masterpiece. You’ll spend the rest of your life trying to recreate the magic.”

“How do you do it?”

Randy laughed. “I’ve never had that problem. I’ve written some decent songs, but never anything as good as
Haunted Dreams
. You really screwed yourself with that one.” He shook his head. “If the first thing I ever wrote was that good, I think I would have just called it a day.”

“Give me a break! Since when are you Mr. Modesty? You’ve written amazing songs, lot’s of them.”

“Nothing I’ve ever written has even come close to being mentioned, even been whispered, in the same sentence as
Grammy
.” Randy picked up the shot glass once again and waved it in the air. “That, my friend, is your domain. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m jealous as hell.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Being nominated is a long way from winning.” When he was honest with himself, Rick wasn’t sure he wanted the group to win. The nomination alone caused an enormous amount of pressure. He couldn’t imagine how the pressure would grow if the song won.

Rick smiled and nodded his head as the bartender placed two more shots on the table. Randy handed the man a ten and told him to keep the change. Rick couldn’t remember the last time he and Randy hung out, just the two of them – with a few drinks, he turned into a laid-back, fun guy, and Rick missed that Randy. Experience told him that Randy would be completely drunk and broke by the end of the night, and the bartender would have a large wad of cash to take home.

After many more shots, a few trips to the bathroom for hits of cocaine, some autographs, and several games of pool, Rick pulled a staggering Randy from the bar. As they emerged, Randy’s cherry-red Corvette passed through the nearby intersection hooked to the back of a tow truck. All the windows were broken out and bright green paint along the side read, “Rat Bastard.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“We’ve got to stop for a while,” Rick said. “My fingers hurt and my back is killing me. I need a break.”

“But we’ve almost got it. Just one more time, okay? I can feel it, we are so close,” Devon said.

“Yeah, fine. But damn it, next time we don’t start laying down the bed until we have the whole thing worked out, because this is bullshit.”

“Tell you what Maestro, next time,
you
can figure it out,” Devon said. Rick responded with a sneer and one finger.

Keith started the eighth note feel in half time on the drums, waiting for Rick and Devon to join. Rick shook his head, looked at their producer, Jay, and started from the top. He wanted a Percocet – actually, he wanted two, but he was on one of his
break
days.