Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star) (2 page)

On this particular night, however, when Ronnie had called, I felt inclined to say I would go out with him.  Well, of course, Ronnie was as drawn to the female crowd as they were to him.  Especially the beautiful ones.  And, certainly, because I had been out of the party scene for quite some time, these ladies had been thrilled to see me out in public without my better half.  I could be judgmental and say that they had no scruples to come on to a married man, but what I was about to do that evening would be like throwing stones at a glass house.

I don’t even remember the woman’s name, but she came up to me and started talking.  The longer I stayed at the club, the more drinks were thrust upon me.  Of course, I wasn’t complaining.  Free drinks were a nice perk to being a well-recognized, well-liked rock star.  Well, the more I drank, the easier it was to lose my good judgment.  By the end of the evening, I had invited my night’s companion to my house at the beach.  I foolishly took her into the bedroom, which I had shared with Crystal and began having sex with her.  I guess I had been too drunk and too engaged to hear anything other than the moaning of the girl on top of me, but suddenly the bedroom door swung open and standing in the doorway was Crystal.  The disappointment on her face immediately shifted to anger before she turned to storm out of the room.  I swiftly jumped up and ran after her, but she had been out the back door before I could reach her.  I went back to grab my pants and tried, in vain, to go after Crystal.  She was too quick.  In a flash, Crystal was out of the driveway.  I sunk to my knees and cried.  Crystal was too good for me.  I should have never lost my discretion.  I found no solace in what I did and if it took me the rest of my life, I was going to make it up to Crystal. 

In the end, however, I’d never get that chance. Two hours later a policemen came to my door to give me the news of Crystal’s car accident.  She had died on impact.

The media had a field day with it.  It turns out, the girl I was with couldn’t wait to tell everyone that it was she who was in my bed when Crystal had found us. At least the paparazzi, unintentionally, kept one of my secrets.  Mom paid a large sum of money to the Policeman’s Association to keep quiet about one piece of information, so at least I didn’t have to see that horror written in black and white.

My mother brought me back to reality by interrupting my thoughts. “Tagg, you made a mistake.  You were young.  Unfortunately, the consequences were dire, but you couldn’t have known that.  You have to forgive yourself, darling, and move on.”  Mom paused and then she got that look in her eye that told me she was up to something.  “I’m moving in.”  She paused again waiting for me to respond, but I was curious, so I remained quiet to hear what she had to say.  “I hired a personal trainer to help get you back in shape and I’m going to cook your meals for you to make sure you are eating healthy.  I want you to stop drinking too; it isn’t helping your depression.  I know I should have done this a long time ago, but I also spoke with a psycho-therapist to help you talk this out.  I am no longer going to let you intimidate me into doing what you want, Tagg.  You cannot make these decisions for yourself; not until you’re mentally well.”

I nearly cried. “No.  Absolutely not, Mom.” I was an adolescent all over again, kicking and screaming and redirecting my anger toward my mother.  “I don’t need a shrink. I don’t want one.  Why are you doing this to me?  I don’t want to perform anymore. I just want to be alone.  Why can’t you or Auggie ever understand that?

 “But you were so good at entertaining, baby.  It can’t bring back Crystal, but you are alive and you are barely living. You are killing yourself with your drinking and your depression.”

 “This isn’t just about Crystal, Mom.  Give me a break.  Please.  Another life was lost that night too, or don’t you remember that?”  This was the hard part.  I couldn’t even think about it without breaking down into tears.  It was that other life that I lost that was causing this pain beyond pain that I was feeling.  I was tormented by the loss and I could not bring myself to ever forgive what I had done.  Not ever.

 “Of course I remember, Tagg.  Of course I do.”  Mom got quiet.  I guess she could imagine how I felt; it was a loss for her as well.  Mom and I just stared at each other for a while and then she spoke again.  “I’m still moving in.  I’ll put the therapist on hold, but not the trainer.  I ordered you some state-of-the-art workout equipment.  It’ll be here tomorrow.  Your trainer comes on Monday.”

 “Mom, no.”  I almost cried.  I wasn’t ready for this.  But, I guess I had pushed Mom for so long, now it was her turn to push.

Mara’s Letter to Bradley

April 3, 2010

Dear Bradley,

As always, I miss you more than I could ever convey properly in this letter.  It’s been almost nine years and I still smell your scent on the pillow next to me, or every time I open one of the dresser drawers to hold one of your old college sweatshirts.  I know I moved out of our rental, but I couldn’t get rid of your dresser.  Not yet.  Probably not ever.

I know, I go on and on how much I miss you in each letter and never talk about what’s going on in my life now.  Not in detail, anyway.  Probably because it’s not so interesting; I don’t want to bore you.

But I do have some interesting news this time. Kenya Taggart, the big movie actress, well, she called me today.  She had gotten my name off of the ACE website. She wanted to know if I would train her son.  Do you realize who her son is?  Tagg Holland. Do you remember Tagg Holland? He was my idol when I was younger. You and I had gone to see him in concert together during one of his tours at the Meadowland’s Arena.  You probably don’t remember.  Anyway, he hasn’t been around in a while. Word was out that he had something sinister to do with his wife’s death.  You wouldn’t know about that.  I think it happened in 2003.  Anyway, I know you didn’t follow his career like I did. 

Well, Tagg Holland has been out of the public eye for a long time and not a word had been printed about his whereabouts. Ironically, Brad, it turns out that he is right here in Sparta, New Jersey; twenty minutes from my current residence.  Ms. Taggart has offered to pay me to be his Personal Trainer.  Of course I wouldn’t turn that down.  It would be great for my reputation as a trainer, plus the dream of a lifetime to work with Tagg Holland. 

Ms. Taggart told me it would take some work to get Tagg fit.  She said he is in dire need of an overhaul.  Apparently, he has gained some weight; he has been drinking quite a bit and hasn’t taken care of himself.  I inquired as to whether I was the right person for the job; a psychologist or an AA meeting would be more suitable, but she insists I am what he needs.  I sure hope so.

I start on Monday.  I’m really nervous about it.  I’ve never trained a guy before, only girls.  And Tagg Holland, a HUGE rock star, well that makes me even more skittish.  I just hope I don’t get tongue-tied, or worse, I’m unable to speak when I’m face to face with him.  It would be like being fourteen years old again and meeting him back stage.  That had been an extremely uncomfortable moment in my life.

Anyway, Brad.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  Wish me luck.  Until next time I write, think of me.  I’ll be thinking of you; as I always do.

Loving you and missing you,

Mara

***

The equipment came the next day, just like my mother had said, and now it was Monday.  My trainer was expected in about a half an hour.  There was no way I was prepared for some monster man to brutally train me until I could no longer walk.  Did my mother really think this was going to change my life at all?  I could hardly think so.

The doorbell rang.  “Damn.” I said out loud.  Mr. Universe was standing on the other side of that door, just waiting to mold my now flabby body into what it used to be.  “Can I help you?”  It wasn’t Mr. Universe at my door; it was a tiny woman who stood not much taller than about five feet, and she couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds.  Her face was tiny, yet round and her eyes were the perfect color of milk chocolate.  Her hair was shiny dark brown, and it fell to just below her shoulders.  She was dressed in black leggings and a pale pink tank top that ended just shy of her small but toned thighs.  She was wearing a hot pink backpack and holding a black duffle bag that looked heavier than she did.

“Mr. Holland?” She had asked, obviously not recognizing the former rock star she probably remembered from days gone by. 

“Yes?”  I answered, confused as to why she was standing here outside my door.  “Is there something I can do for you?” My voice did have an edge to it and that’s when I noticed she looked a bit nervous.

“I’m Mara Giordano-Carson.  Your mother hired me to train you.”

Mara Giordano-Carson.  Why did that name sound so familiar?  “You are my trainer?”  No way.  There was no way this little miss was training me.  What could she possibly show me?  She looked like she could barely lift her duffle bag.

“Yes, Mr. Holland, I am your trainer.  At least, that’s why your mother hired me.  Do you have a problem with my training you?  I hope it’s not because I'm a girl.  I’m sure you’re more evolved than that.”

Evolved.  Who did she think she was?  “No, it’s not because you’re a girl.” I mimicked.

“Good.  Then we can begin.”  Mara Giordano-Carson said, simultaneously walking through my front door.  My eyes widened at her tenacity.  “Please show me your workout room, Mr. Holland.  I’d like to get started.”

I wasn’t used to standing upright anymore.  My usual position was reclining with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  I barely had the energy to argue with this little woman.  I chose to resign myself and see what she could do.  “Follow me. And, call me Tagg.”  I showed her to my new workout room that sat in the loft that overlooked Lake Mohawk.  Until three days ago, the loft had been empty.  I barely ever climbed the stairs to spend time up there.  I must say, though, the view of the lake from the large, triangular window was breathtaking.   “Well,” I turned to Mara, “this is it.” I held my hand out, signaling my new, state-of-the-art-equipment, as Mom called it.   

“Great.”  She didn’t look impressed.  “I’d like to start off with some questions and then I’d like to do an assessment of your fitness level.

“I can save you some time.  I’m not fit.”  I thought I’d add in a little humor.  Again, she wasn’t impressed.  I couldn’t tell, though, if she was just some hard-ass or if she was nervous.  Her face held a rigid appearance, but her eyes betrayed that control.  It was as if those chocolate eyes were melting right in front of me.  Why did they look so damn familiar?

“Mr. Holland.”

“Tagg.”

“Tagg, I still have to do an assessment.  Maybe we can sit over there.” She pointed to the two benches that sat parallel to one another.  We moseyed over to the benches and sat facing each other, she with a clipboard on her lap, me with a beer.  “Do you smoke, Tagg?”

“Smoke what?”  I joked.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  What about alcohol?  Do you drink?” I saw her eyes dart down to my lap, then back to her paper.  I didn’t need to answer that one.

“Look, let me get something out of the way.  I do everything that a fit freak like you would frown upon, so you might as well check yes to every vice you have there on your sheet, okay.  Plus, I eat like a son of a gun, as you can certainly see, so unless these questions don’t ask the obvious, don’t bother.”

“Mr. Holland, why do you have a problem with me?  Is it because I am not a man?  Do you honestly think I am not up to this task?”

 “I didn’t say that.”

 “You didn’t have to.  Now, if you would like another trainer, let me know now.  I would hate to be wasting my time.”  Mara stared at me, daring me to let her go.

There was no way she would get the best of me.  “I assure you, you are not wasting your time.  You may finish your questioning.”

Mara finished her questionnaire and began her assessment.  I failed.  She said it wasn’t a matter of pass or fail, but if she were grading me, I am sure she’d have slapped a big, fat ‘F’ on my forehead.  I was out of breath after a minute or so and my heart rate skyrocketed in record time.

“You did well, Mr. Holland; you’ll be back in shape in no time.  Can I meet with you on Wednesday?  Same time or would you prefer someone else?”

What was I going to say?  I gave a slight roll of my eyes and answered her question. “No, of course I don’t want someone else; I’m sorry, I haven’t been that sociable in a long time.  I promise… I’ll erase the attitude. But how come we’re over so soon?  Where’s the workout I’m suppose to do?

“Mr. Holland, you haven’t exercised in years, the assessment alone was workout enough for today.  My rule is to start off slow, this way, you are more willing to stick with my plan.  In no time, you’ll be working your butt off and then you’ll be sorry you complained.”  She laughed and then walked down the stairs to the front door.  She opened the door and then turned to me.  “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, Mr. Holland, but I think we’ll do just fine.”

“I think so too… but only if you call me Tagg.”  I smiled at her. There was just something about her that woke me up.  “Mara, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.  Shoot.”

“Have we ever met before?  You look so familiar.”

Mara smiled and her milky brown eyes began to sparkle.  “Not really.”

“Not really?  What does that mean?”

“How ‘bout we talk about that another time.  I don’t want to be late for my next client.  See you Wednesday…Tagg.”

Hmmm.  Not really.  What did that mean?  Either we’ve met before or we haven’t.  How hard a question could that be?  Anyway, I went to the kitchen to get a beer and some chips, but I found myself reaching for a glass of milk and a piece of chicken that my mother left in the fridge.  Mom.  I couldn’t help but sigh a little.  Why did she always have to be right all the time?

Instead of taking my refreshments to the recliner, as was my usual routine, I decided to have my meal at the kitchen table.  Mom came home while I was finishing my lunch.  The look on her face was one of victory.  “Cool it Mom.  You can wipe that smirk off of your face.  Nothing’s changed.  I still don’t want a reunion tour.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Auggie and Ronnie, I, however, am happy to see a small smile on your face.  I’ve forgotten what a beautiful smile it was.  Maybe its time you get rid of that beard.”  I must say, I haven’t seen my mother so contented in a while.  I know it must have been hurting her to see me hurting, but it was hard to see past my own depression most times. 

“I like my beard, Mom.  But thanks.”

“Thanks for what, sweetheart?”

“For sticking around, I guess.  Sorry I’ve caused you so much disappointment.  I never meant to hurt you.”  My mom deserved my apology.  I couldn’t look her in the eyes, though;  I would definitely be able to see her pain if I had.

“You don’t disappoint me Tagg.”  Mom made me look into her eyes.  She picked up my chin with her fingertips and gazed right at me.  “I hurt for you, that’s all.  You have been troubled for way too long, I just want to take it all away.”

I forced myself to look down at my hands at the table.  “I know, Mom, but it’s not going to go away overnight, so please don’t expect miracles.”  I felt bad saying this to her, but I knew my lighter mood was only temporary.  As soon as I had thought too long about Crystal’s death, my spirits would plummet.  It was only a matter of time.

Who would have thought that my fair mood would last only until morning.  All night I had tossed and turned drifting in and out of the same nightmare; Crystal was looking at me with blood-red eyes and dismembered body parts all the while whispering ‘you killed me Tagg, I died and it’s all your fault.’  I couldn’t get it out of my mind.  It was my fault, the whole accident.  I cheated on Crystal and that had caused our whole world to crash.  I would never be whole again.  There wasn’t even reason to get out of bed this morning.  I pulled the covers over my head and began praying again that God would take me now.  I was roaming in a world I no longer belonged, my body occupying physical space, while my soul lingered as an illegal immigrant.  Searching. Hoping. For a place to call home.

I’m not sure how long I was in bed, but it couldn’t have been long, because the sun shining in from my window was still sitting over the lake, which happened to be facing east.  “Tagg, come on sweetie, its time to get up.  I don’t want you sleeping your day away.” 

“Mom?”  Oh that’s right, she was living with me now, wasn’t she?  “Mom, I really need to sleep a little more, okay?”  Even people who weren’t depressed slept late, didn’t they?

“No, Tagg, I really would like you to get up.  I made you an egg-white veggie omelet for breakfast.  Come on, its on the table already.”

Yummy.  Egg whites.  “Just put it in the fridge Mom, I’ll eat it later.”  Please, Mom, just go away today.  I’m not in the mood for company.  I wish I could have really said that to her, but that’d be disrespectful, so I refrained.

“Tagg, get up.”  Mom’s tone changed and she turned on the lights next to my bed. 

“Mom, I’m thirty-eight years old.  If I want to stay in bed late, I don’t see why that’s your business.”  I was disrespectful after all.  Well, that did it.  Mom’s shoulders slumped and she walked out of the room.  About ninety seconds later I heard the front door open and shut.  Mom left.  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, yet I did.  But like I said before, sometimes it was just too hard to see past my own depression.  Other people’s problems weren’t absorbed into my brain, because my own despair had soaked up most of its space.