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  Just gimme a sec, Storm.

  It’s kinda unhealthy.

  What?

  You’re always with her, and when you’re not, you’re texting

  her. I get that you’re in love and all that, but you really

  should get a life.

  I do have a life.

  What about Trenton and Roman, your best friends?

  What about ’em?

  You never even see them.

  What are you talking about? We went to see Giraffe

  Tongue.

  That was like a month ago.

  Things change. I’m just into some different stuff.

  Yeah, Chapel. It’s unhealthy the way you’re all up under

  her. Be careful, Blade.

  Whatever.

  What about the band? I thought y’all were gonna record.

  They’re more into punk now. I’m just—

  Into soft rock—yeah, don’t remind me.

  Anyway, what do you think about the dream?

  Weird dream. You been smokin’?

  No. What do you think it means?

  No idea.

  Seriously.

  Look, some dreams don’t mean anything. They’re just

  stupid.

  Great, thanks, now get out.

  Okay, how about this: The spider is Dad, and you think he

  hates you and is trying to destroy your life, and Mom is the

  only person who can save you, but she really can’t because,

  you know, she’s dead, and so you stuff yourself with hordes

  of unhealthy foods to hide the pain of whatever journey

  you’re on.

  Journey?

  Yeah, “Don’t Stop Believin’” journey.

  That’s deep, Storm. But journey where?

  You tell me. It’s your dream, Spider-Man.

  And, what about Mom?

  Well, that’s easy. You miss her. We all do.

  You think that’s it?

  Nah, you were right. It’s ridiculous.

  Thanks for nothing.

  I changed my mind.

  What?

  Your room doesn’t stink. You do. Take a shower.

  Knock, Knock

  It’s been two days

  since graduation.

  Two days since I’ve

  seen his face

  or smelled the smell

  of his rock & roll decay.

  And he’s knocking,

  knocking the heck

  out of my door

  like he does

  when he has a “grand”

  announcement.

  But what does he

  have to say to me this time?

  What can we possibly

  say to each other?

  How do you forgive

  a person who ruined

  what was going to be

  one of the best days of

  your life?

  I can’t imagine

  what kind of peace

  offering he’ll bring me.

  Stop knocking, I finally say.

  Just come in

  or go away.

  He walks in

  and stands at

  the foot of my bed,

  his arms spread out

  like a fallen angel.

  Conversation

  Blade . . . I’m sorry, son.

  . . . .

  I’m leaving for a month or so.

  Okay.

  Don’t you want to know where?

  I don’t.

  Rehab.

  Surprise.

  Got my Marvels and the axe. Ready to rock!

  . . . .

  I think the band’s really getting back together.

  . . . .

  Look, I’m sorry for what happened.

  You think that’s enough?

  It’s all I got.

  I really don’t wanna talk. Good luck.

  Watch out for your sister while I’m away.

  Storm can take care of herself.

  She’s fragile.

  What does that mean?

  It means her album tanked and she just needs some cheer.

  Keep an eye on each other.

  . . . .

  I told her she could have a party. It’ll help.

  Great.

  I need you to be there.

  Dude, I got a life. You’ve got your rock and roll and your

  drugs and alcohol, Storm’s got her pretend career and—and

  I’m heading to college in a few months, to get as far

  away from here as possible. So, how about you guys help

  yourselves.

  How ’bout you stop acting like a JACK!

  There’s the Rutherford I know. Welcome back.

  I’m still your father.

  Lucky me!

  Pretty lucky, I’d say. Look around. Five-star living not

  good enough for ya?

  Money doesn’t buy happiness.

  Yeah, but it bought you a pimped-out Range Rover that

  you and your girl make out in. And, it paid for your posh

  little private high school.

  And the Harley you ruined my graduation with. Just get

  out. I’m done. Good luck with rehab.

  When the limo arrives

  to take Dr. Feelgood

  to rehab

  he’s all crocodile tears.

  They’re trying to take my edge. If I don’t make it back—

  Stop, Daddy, you’ll be fine, Storm says.

  And now she’s crying.

  You can do this, Daddy! We’ll write kick-ass songs together

  when you get back.

  Rutherford looks at me. But I got nothing:

  No empathy.

  No sympathy

  for

  the devil.

  Phone Conversation

  Hey. Babe!

  Yeah, hey.

  Everything okay?

  Sure.

  You sure?

  I’ve been better.

  Why do you sound so salty?

  Why do you think?

  I’m sorry I couldn’t see you after graduation. And, I’m sorry

  about what happened.

  Just forget about it. I’m okay.

  . . . .

  Just wish things were different. That I was nobody in

  Nobody’s Land.

  Yeah.

  So, what’s up?

  What’s up is stay off social media and don’t—

  Go to stores, look at newsstands, I know.

  Yeah.

  I won’t have to if we’re together.

  Awww . . . I can’t right now, Blade.

  Why? Come on, babe. Meet me at the park. I’ll take you

  shopping or something in Rutherford’s Maserati.

  You know I’d LOVE that, but my parents are throwing me

  another dinner with friends tonight.

  Tonight? That’s nice. How come I didn’t know?

  I mean, it was kind of spur of the moment.

  Who’s invited?

  Just a couple girls . . . and some people, uh, friends. Just a

  group of friends.

  People like who? Van? Is Van going?

  Blade, my parents told me to invite all my friends. You

  know you would be the first person on my list if my parents

  didn’t forbid me from seeing you.

  But Van, really?

  My Favorite Guitarist

  Sometimes

  when I feel

  like time is

  a speedway

  and my mind

  races

  round and round

  so fast,

  I walk

  the dogs

  to clear

  my head.

  Then,

  I go to

  Santa Monica.

  Soundboard

  I walk

  the boardwalk

  looking for Rober
t,

  a magician

  who turns worries

  into songs.

  In between gigs

  he sits

  under a

  palm tree, smiling

  with the few teeth

  he’s still got.

  Tourists leave

  green

  in his black trumpet case,

  while he

  melts the blues,

  bending the notes

  like a storytelling machine,

  and wailing

  like the music’s

  gonna save him,

  and us too

  if we’re lucky.

  Conversation

  Youngblood, you look like you got the blues.

  Family stuff.

  Yeah, how’s that?

  Rutherford finally did it. Lived down to his expectations.

  I hate Rutherford. I loathe everything he stands for.

  Whoa . . . Take a breath, Youngblood.

  He’s ruined everything in my life.

  Everything? Sounds serious.

  Graduation was a disaster to end all disasters.

  How is that?

  The one day I stand up to deliver a speech I wasn’t

  even supposed to give in front of my entire class and

  everybody’s grandmother, brother, and sister, Rutherford

  flies in like an alien lunatic and embarrasses the life out

  of me and everyone there. Even the crows were gawking

  of embarrassment from the trees.

  Sounds like a challenging moment.

  I didn’t sign up for this circus.

  None of us do. It’s family.

  I just can’t wait to get outta here.

  Be careful what you ask for. You can run, but you can’t hide.

  You’re at the crossroads, Youngblood, looking for a ride.

  One of your songs?

  That’s life, son. Gotta be thankful for the hard and the

  easy. The good and the not-so.

  Hard to be thankful when you’re living in hell.

  Let me get this straight. You’re living up in Hollywood

  Hills with a pool and tennis court, and a lady to clean

  your underwear and cook you tacos on Tuesdays, and

  you’re living in hell. You got first world problems,

  Youngblood.

  . . . .

  You can run, but you can’t hide. You can run, but you can’t

  hide, you’re at the crossroads, Youngblood, looking for a ride.

  Tell me something, Robert—why do you give all your

  money away to homeless people?

  So they can eat, buy a book or two.

  But what about you?

  What about me?

  Couldn’t you use the loot?

  A wise man said, “You will be enriched in every way to be

  generous in every way,” so I’m good.

  If you ever need a place to crash, we got plenty of space.

  I try to avoid hell, Youngblood.

  Look, here’s a little something for you, I say, handing

  him a wad of hundreds.

  I don’t do charity, Youngblood.

  What happened to enriching and being generous?

  You keep that, buy your girl some flowers or something.

  You could get a new trumpet case or something, I add,

  trying not to show what I’m really suggesting, but he

  knows. Robert knows everything.

  You still stunting on my teeth, Youngblood?

  I’m just saying, it’s pretty cheap these days to get ’em

  fixed.

  In another life, my first wife wanted new teeth. She asked

  all her friends and family for twenty-five dollars to help her

  find her smile. I didn’t give her a dime. The marriage didn’t

  last long, but good gracious did she get some pretty teeth.

  Wanna play something?

  I pick up my guitar.

  He picks up his trumpet.

  And when the song’s over,

  and he’s not looking,

  I throw my wad of cash

  in his case

  and hope he’s not mad

  at me later.

  Texts Conversation

  11:14 am

  Good morning, babe.

  I miss you.

  Guess what?

  11:18 am

  What’s up!

  11:19 am

  I got my assignment. My

  dorm’s next to yours. WOOHOO!

  Also, shopping today???

  11:19 am

  Hint. Hint. Wink. Wink.

  You could pick me up

  in your dad’s Maserati.

  11:19 am

  He won’t even know.

  What time

  should I be ready?

  11:22 am

  Oh . . .

  Not sure

  about today.

  11:22 am

  My parents are gone

  all day. All night.

  Their anniversary.

  11:23 am

  Wow. Good to hear

  you have the day

  open for me. Finally.

  11:24 am

  Blade!

  Seriously?

  What’s up with you?

  11:25 am

  It’s just kinda weird.

  It seems all I’m good for

  is buying stuff.

  11:33 am

  Hello, you there?

  11:35 am

  That was rude.

  I can’t believe

  you’d even suggest

  11:35 am

  something so shallow

  and beneath my

  goodness. You offered before

  11:36 am

  so I just thought.

  Never mind . . . TTYL.

  11:37 am

  Chapel, I’m sorry.

  My bad. I’m just not

  myself right now.

  11:40 am

  You there?

  Come back.

  Voice Mail

  Maybe tomorrow

  we can cruise

  to Malibu

  have a picnic

  by the sea.

  I’ll even bring

  my strings

  and sing you

  that graduation song.

  Or we can feed

  each other sorbet,

  hit Rodeo Drive.

  But only if

  you forgive me . . .

  Texts from Chapel

  9:37 am

  Okay. Morning!

  I forgive you.

  Get out of

  9:37 am

  your PJs pls and take

  your girl for SORBETTTTTT

  and Rodeo Drive!

  Deliver Me

  On my way

  out the door

  two delivery guys

  show up

  with a marble statue

  of a naked goddess.

  I cower.

  I don’t belong here,

  and the months-long

  wait

  ’til college

  is too long.

  Can you deliver me

  someplace else,

  please . . . now? is what I want

  to say

  to them.

  I sign

  for the Goddess Lakshmi

  while Storm

  unpeels

  the protective plastic

  marches around

  her marble legs

  and marble breasts,

  comparing her figure

  to stone.

  Her four hands represent the four goals of life, she says,

  rubbing the breasts, as if they’ll bring her wisdom or luck.

  Oh, okay. Thanks for sharing.

  Dharma and Kama, and the other two I forgot.

  So, what, are you practicing Hindu now?

  She
’s the goddess of Wealth and Prosperity. Me and Dad

  ordered her for my party.

  . . . .

  Isn’t she beautiful, Blade?

  My sister is beautiful

  but not in the way she thinks.

  She’s beautiful because

  she still believes

  our father’s

  her hero.

  She trusts

  in his dreams

  for her.

  She naively believes

  she will be the next big thing

  and that her position in life

  is set in “stone.”

  This makes me feel

  sorry for her

  because she’s clueless.

  She picks up

  Mick and Jagger

  to celebrate the arrival

  of yet another Morrison absurdity,

  ceremoniously dancing

  around the statue,

  but the dogs get freaked out

  by Lakshmi’s four arms

  jump out of Storm’s

  and smash

  right into her,

  sending the goddess

  tumbling

  off her base

  and crashing

  to the floor

  shattering

  Storm’s dreams

  into a million little

  marble pieces.

  Phone Conversation

  What’s taking you so long?

  Had a minor emergency at our house. Leaving now,

  babe.

  Everything all right?

  Is it ever?

  We’re at Rudy’s

  the best ice cream

  in Hollywood,

  and I’m telling her

  how I honestly believe

  my old man

  could finally be changing

  for the better

  and that he swore

  to us

  he’d complete rehab—

  no more drink

  no more drugs—

  when a white van

  pulls up

  and out jumps

  fire-breathing paparazzi

  with loaded cameras,

  pushed into our faces.

  How’s it hanging, Blade?

  Doing great. Now leave us alone.

  We just got word Rutherford’s back in rehab.

  Yep.

  Good to know he’s getting help. We want him to live. It

  would be a rock-and-roll tragedy if . . .

  Really. That’s enough.

  We keep walking into Rudy’s.

  But they follow us in like

  hyenas laughing,

  dragons stalking.

  Did you think your life was over when your old man

  crashed your graduation? He really knows how to liven up

  an event, another one chimes in.

  Does it look like I think my life is over? I come at them

  with fists, but Chapel pulls me back.