Buried Notes (Brothers of Rock #4) (3 page)

(5)

The first thing the guys made Chris
do was get dressed. At first he tried to walk towards them wearing the towel
and it was Danny who told Chris it would probably be easier to talk - and drink
- fully clothed.

Chris dressed himself, taking his
bottle of whiskey with him, and then sat down with a dramatic thud to his seat.
He let out a long sigh and looked out the dark window of the tour bus. He saw
the faint silhouettes of the crew as they continued to work, taking apart the
stage setup, packing up the trucks, getting ready to take the Chasing Cross
experience to another city. They moved just as fast as every night, but tonight
they all knew that once it was done, they’d have a break for a couple days.

That was the knife sticking in
Chris’s gut.

A break.

He didn’t want a break, at all.

A break meant facing life.

It seemed so much easier to get on
stage, play, get off stage, get on the bus (or plane) and repeat the cycle over
and over. That’s how they did it when they first broke big. Days, weeks, and
months suddenly blurred together.

As he flicked his fingers at the
whiskey bottle, he started with a piece of his heart.

“I’m sorry for not telling you
guys.”

“Seems like it’s heavy,” Johnnie
said. “And personal.”

“But isn’t that what we are?” Chris
asked. “I mean, man, come on, we’ve been at this for so long and I hate to
think I’ve had a secret.”

Chris looked at the band and shook
his head.

“You’re telling us now,” Davey
said.

“That’s right,” Chris said. “And
part of it... I swear I’m not making an excuse... part of it was that I just
forgot about the whole thing. You know? I just washed it away from my memory
and mind. Until I got served with those divorce papers. And now it’s like my
mind wants to make up for all that lost time. All that time I should have been
thinking about it. Figuring out right from wrong. Making the right decision for
both of us. Mostly her though. And the crazy part is that she’s the one with
the power in all this. She’s the one married to a rockstar. One word and she
could open a can of worms on me, on us.”

“But she hasn’t,” Danny said.

“Well, other than sending me
divorce papers twice.”

“You didn’t respond?” Johnnie
asked.

Chris shook his head.

“You better soon,” Johnnie said.
“They’ll come for you then. Not to arrest you, but it’ll cause a stir. You’re
lucky nobody saw you get served with the papers to begin with.”

Chris hung his head.

“Not that it matters,” Danny cut
in. “I mean, we’re a band here. We stick with each other. Thick and thin. Right
and wrong. Good and bad.”

“Why did you just look at me?” Rick
asked.

“What?” Danny asked.

“When you said that, you looked at
me.”

“I’m looking at everyone,” Danny
said.

“Rick, calm down,” Johnnie said.

“Look, I’m sorry I did something
stupid,” Rick said. “But I’m not a burned out alcoholic here, okay?”

“Nobody said you were,” Davey said.

“We’re trying to help Chris here,”
Johnnie said, trying to shift the conversation back on track.

“I just don’t want to be pinpointed
as a bad guy,” Rick said. “Sorry, Chris.”

“It’s fine, man,” Chris said.

The whiskey settled in by then. His
eyes were a little heavy but he felt great. He felt like he could say anything
he wanted without remorse.

Chris opened his mouth as the door
to the tour bus opened.

“Shit,” he whispered.

They all looked as Peter’s bald
head appeared before the rest of his body. He stood at the front of the bus
with a big smile on his face.

“Peter,” Johnnie called out.

“How’s the night?” Peter asked.

“Right here!” Chris yelled and
lifted his bottle.

“Celebrating?”

“Bleeding,” Chris said.

He took a drink.

“We’re talking about something,”
Johnnie said.

“I won’t take too much of your
time,” Peter said. “Just talked with some of our good friends and because your
new single is killing the charts, they’ve not given the green light to the
album, they want it soon and they’re going to back you up with advertising like
you’ve never seen before. Back to the top, my friends.”

“We’re already there,” Danny said.

“Fine,” Peter said. “Then that’s
where you’ll stay. I’m talking regular shows, acoustic shows. TV appearances.
Radio spots. This is major.”

“That’s great,” Johnnie said.
“That’s really great, Peter.”

“But right now, aren’t we on a
little break?” Rick asked.

“Rick’s got a point,” Johnnie said.

“Fair enough,” Peter said.

The door to the bus opened again.

Chris grumbled under his breath.

It was their bus driver, Richie.
The man didn’t look capable of handling a bus and looked nothing like a guy out
on a tour with rockstars. He was short and skinny, with thick black glasses.
The only thing
rock n’
roll
about him was that before every trip he had to smoke one
cigarette. Nobody knew why and nobody questioned it. He’d never had a problem
on the road, ever.

“Time to roll these wheels,” Richie
said.

“Get these guys to New York City,”
Peter said.

Johnnie smiled.

Chris knew the look on Johnnie’s
face. He’d get to stay right there, with Jess.

Good
for him.

The rest of the band would take
flights from New York City to wherever they wanted.

Which made Chris start thinking...

Peter wished everyone safe travels
and got off the bus. Richie took his seat and a minute later, the rumble of the
bus kicked up and they started to move.

Just like that, another show had
come and gone. Another city visited and left.

About five minutes into the ride,
Chris looked at the band.

“Get comfortable boys,” he said,
“this is going to take a little while.”

“It’s not just a simple story?”
Danny asked. “Like you got drunk and got married in Reno or Vegas?”

Chris snapped his fingers and said,
“Damn, you almost ruined it for everyone. But it wasn’t quite that easy. She
was hands down the coolest person I’d ever met in my life.  It was five years
ago and we were in Texas. I think just outside Houston maybe, I don’t know. We
played three shows in Texas in a week and it was that final show. I remember it
because we had a couple days off before we went to Nevada.”

“Where you got married?” Danny
asked.

“Where I got married,” Chris said.

**

Chris sat on the bus and strummed a
guitar. He was bored. Flat out. Bored. Two years ago the bus would have been
full of people. Mostly women, because that’s how it was supposed to be. But
now, the party was outside, out in the world.

That’s where Chris wanted to be.

“Rick, dude, come here.”

Holding a bottle of vodka in his
hand, his jeans torn to shreds, stumbled towards Chris. “What’s up, man?”

“Let’s get out of here. There’s a
bar right up the street. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m in,” Rick said.

“Talk to Peter first,” another
voice added.

It was Johnnie.

He was clean cut, good looking, and
almost too good for himself. The picture perfect handsome lead singer, perhaps
the single most important driving force for Chasing Cross when people couldn’t
hear their sound. Their posters and pictures proved it all. Johnnie always
standing in the front, subtly smiling, the good looking frontman. Danny and
Davey always elbow to elbow or back to back, guitars in hand, nothing more
important than their guitars. Chris always lingering, usually laughing. Showing
off the good mood kind of guy he was. And finally, Rick. Always in the
background, holding a bottle of booze and a pair of drumsticks somewhere.

That was the image for Chasing
Cross.

It worked.

It sold albums.

And selling albums sold tickets.

Everything had come together for so
long now.

But Chris’s leg would not stop
moving.

“Come on, Johnnie, let’s get off
this bus, get a drink.”

“I don’t know,” Johnnie said. “Aren’t
we kind of big for that?”

“Big?” Chris asked. He shook his
head. “I don’t care. I can’t live in hiding.”

“We’ll be leaving in the morning.
We can do something tomorrow somewhere.”

“Screw it,” Chris said and stood.
He looked at Rick.

“Screw it,” Rick said.

Chris looked back to Danny and
Davey. They were each holding guitars, having a deep thinking session on how to
improve the band’s sound. Lately they would play into the early hours of the
morning, trying to play faster than the other. Trying to come up with more
riffs. More catchy sounds. Strumming more chords. Turning the Chasing Cross
sound into something larger than life.

“You two coming?” Chris asked.

“I’m good here,” Danny called out.
“I want to finish up this one solo.”

“You’ve been working on it for
weeks now,” Davey teased.

“I don’t care,” Danny said. “I’m
getting it right.”

“They’re like an old married
couple,” Rick said.

“Johnnie, come on out,” Chris said.

Johnnie looked at Chris and Chris
smiled. He put his arm around Rick and nodded.

“No trouble,” Johnnie said. “We go
out, have some drinks, meet some fans, and come back.”

“Awesome,” Chris said.

“For the record,” Rick asked, “what
time are we leaving in the morning?”

“You know Peter,” Johnnie said. “On
the road, on the road.”

“If this turns out to be a late
night,” Rick said, “we need a plan.”

“For what?” Chris asked.

“What if I find a lady to spend the
night with?” Rick asked. “I’m not bringing her back here.”

“Women love the tour bus,” Chris
said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Rick said. “Make
sure nobody is left behind.”

“Nobody will be left behind,”
Johnnie said. “Everyone will be right here in the morning.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Chris
said.

Ten minutes later, three of the
five guys were standing at a bar with a group of people. Half knew them. Half
didn’t. The ones that didn’t either weren’t paying attention to who was at the
bar or were too drunk to realize that the band they just saw on stage two hours
ago was now in their local bar.

Hanging out and drinking.

Most of the people flocked to
Johnnie. Wanting pictures and autographs. They wanted to kiss his cheek, smile
with him, live out some kind of rock n’ roll fantasy that would never happen.
Johnnie was too much of a romantic to actually get lost in the rock n’ roll
lifestyle. And that only made people want him more. He always knew that someday
Johnnie was going to fall hard at first sight for a woman.

Rick and Chris signed autographs
too, but only on the coattails of Johnnie for those dedicated Chasing Cross
fans that knew who they were. Rick brought his bottle of vodka with him and the
bartender told Rick he couldn’t drink it.

“Throw me out then,” Rick said.

The bartender stared at Rick and
Chris let out a laugh.

“Something funny?” the bartender
asked.

“We’re kind of rockstars,” Chris
said. He took the bottle from Rick and drank from it. He handed it back to Rick
and smacked his lips together.

“Why don’t you get out of here
then?” the bartender asked.

“Why bother?” a voice asked.

Chris looked and saw a woman put
money on the bar.

“What’s that for?” Chris asked.

“All the shots you’re screwing this
bartender out of,” she said.

“No way,” Chris said. He took the
money and handed it back to the woman. He then looked at the bartender. “Let’s
keep this cool, huh?”

“How do we do that?” the bartender
asked.

“Put all this on a tab,” Chris
said.

“Yes!” Rick cried out.

“Put it on a tab for Chasing Cross.
Send it to Peter.”

The bartender then made the
connection. He shook his head and blinked a few times.

“Oh, shit,” he said, “you guys
really are... Hey, is that Johnnie?”

“Johnnie,” Chris called out, “come
here. Meet a fan.”

Johnnie moved between Chris and
Rick. He shook hands with the bartender.

“I’m a big fan,” the bartender
said. “I hope there’s no problem here...”

“None,” Chris said. “You just get a
tab going. We’ll pay.”

“Well, Peter will,” Rick said.

Johnnie looked at Rick, then Chris.
“You two are trouble.”

“I like trouble.”

Chris looked to his right again and
there she was. The same woman who tried to pay the bartender. Chris smiled at
her.

“Thanks for trying to help,” he
said.

“Don’t rockstars carry cash?” she
asked.

Chris eyed her up and down. Tall,
skinny, blonde. Her eyes were bright and filled with intention. The exact kind
of woman Chris would have loved to get in trouble with.

“We don’t need cash,” Chris said.
“We’re rockstars.”

The woman laughed and then slid her
empty glass towards Chris.

“Can you take care of this?”

“Of course I can,” Chris said.

The bartender was now his best
friend. Tending to everything he wanted and needed. That meant a lot of drinks
in less time. Mostly for the pretty blonde next to Chris, who identified
herself at Carrie. The more she drank the more she turned towards him. She
touched Chris’s shoulder, arm, hand. She pulled Chris’s hand toward her leg and
he had no problem touching her.

Chris enjoyed a few shots and a
couple cold beers.

He felt great.

He felt alive.

It sure as hell beat sitting on a
tour bus.

Johnnie had disappeared a little
while ago and the last Chris saw Rick, he was shooting pool with a few guys,
talking motorcycles and music.