Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5)

  ***

  Gabe Sherman was serious about his job. He was precise. He was stoic. He was articulate, and most of all, accommodating. He had to be, I supposed; he was my driver. A handsome Clint Eastwood-lookalike, he'd worked for the same limo service for over twenty years, which catered to studio executives and A-list celebrity clientele. Gabe was directly recommended to me by one of the new producers I was working with on my solo project. He was also the driver for several rock and music legends when they came into town. Gabe and I developed a similar relationship as I had with Marty, part friendship and part business.

  It was nearly show time.

  The famed Hotel Café in Hollywood with its dramatic red curtains was the stage backdrop. That's where Notting had arranged for me to play my debut solo gig. I had to admit I was excited, and a bittersweet sensation crawled over me as I thought about Dump. I was thankful Bobby was back home from his last tour, and he was more than stoked when I asked if he'd play with me. We'd practiced, and then hired a guy Bobby recommended, Trev Stoneham, aka Stoney, as a drummer. It was nearly like old times - in my garage at first; then we moved to a rehearsal space.

  Six weeks later, the day came. Load in at Hotel Café was at 5:30 PM, and it was about 4 PM on a Thursday in mid-March. Cool and breezy, the trees rustled with each bluster of wind, and dark clouds began to roll in. I hoped it wouldn't rain too hard or too long. I didn't want the fans to get soaked. I'd heard there was a line at the venue trailing down the street. It'd begun forming at around noon. I was elated and relieved. There was a bit of fear in me that no one would come, since I'd fallen off the face of the planet in complete scandal.

  I'd arranged for Gabe to drive me for the evening, and he'd pulled up right in front of my driveway. I stood in my garage, packing my very first acoustic guitar in its case, and rubbed its glossy surface. Every time I picked her up, she sang to me in an authentic, fine voice, so different than any of my other guitars. It would be the first time I'd be performing on stage with her, she was my most prized possession, and I thanked God I'd left her in her case that one time, thinking back to when I'd busted my other acoustic guitar in a doped-up mad rage over something stupid - well, I didn't think it was stupid at all, but still. She was the one that wrote all those hit songs with me, and now the world was going to finally meet her.

  As I was loading my guitar and backpack into the backseat of Gabe's black Escalade, time stopped. A car I didn't recognize pulled into Aly's driveway. My mouth went instantly dry. I didn't notice the driver, only her in the passenger seat.

  Was she with Nathan?

  I leaned into the back seat and unzipped my backpack, pretending to look for something, peering out the back window. Then relief flooded through me when I saw Allison, Aly's older sister, step from the driver's side.

  I backed out of the truck and looked over at them. Allison was waving wildly at me, smiling cheerfully. I couldn't really place Aly's expression, but it sat between shock and joy. I waved back, shutting the door and slowly trudged back toward my garage. I wanted so badly to go say hello to them, but I didn't want to be intrusive.

  "What?" Allison's voice sparked, and I turned, smiling. She threw her arms out. "You're not gonna come and say hello? I haven't seen you in like…years!"

  My heart raced so fast that I couldn't feel my feet as I walked toward her. She was bursting with elation in her prim office attire. It warmed my heart that she was so happy to see me. Allison met me halfway on the sidewalk and hugged me tightly when she got ahold of me. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I couldn't help by look in Aly's direction. She'd moved to the trunk of the car, throwing me a gingerly smile. I wanted to kill myself. She'd gotten more gorgeous, if that was even possible. She was in workout gear, as usual, showing every bit of her natural beauty.

  "How the hell are you?" Allison slapped my shoulder, grabbing my attention.

  I chucked, focusing back on her. "I'm great."

  "You look great." She motioned at me with her hands. "So what's up? Are you living back here?"

  I looked back at my house. "Just temporary." My eyes drifted to Aly to see if she was watching us, she was. I drew in a deep breath. "How are you, what've you been up to?"

  "Just surviving at my sucky job." She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Not really. It's okay. I just wish I'd hit the lotto."

  "Right?"

  "Just picked this kiddo up from the dealership. Her car needed some TLC."

  My insides fluttered, staring over at Aly.

  Allison's eyes roamed over me with a smirk on her face, and she looked back at Aly. "Alyssa, get over here." She waved her arm and looked back at me. "Just because you two aren't together anymore doesn't mean you can't be civil and grown-up about it."

  Fuck.

  Aly reluctantly strolled over to us. "Hey."

  I tipped my head with a playful grin. I couldn't help myself. "Get over here."

  I reached for her hand, and her cool fingers wrapped around mine, sending a deep charge through me. I'd noticed immediately she wasn't wearing the ring Nathan gave her. I told myself that didn't mean anything as I pulled her to my chest, hugging her. She'd probably taken the ring off to work out. That's what most people did.

  "What are you doing?" She pointed to Gabe's truck. "Is that yours?"

  I shook my head no. "It's my driver."

  Aly and Allison both nodded, more than likely remembering how I'd almost killed someone the last time I was behind the wheel.

  "Where you off to?" Allison gave me a strange look, almost like she knew. Maybe she did, but I wasn't going to say anything.

  "I'm just taking care of some music stuff, you know."

  Allison gave me a tight grin. She knew, she nodded, and Aly looked between us, confused. "What's up?"

  "I've got to get going." Allison said, changing the subject. "Gotta say hi to Mom before I leave, too, or I won't hear the end of it."

  Allison disappeared behind their tall courtyard gates. "Uh, okay, well." Aly sighed, closing her mouth, and a bit of dejection overcame her. She crossed her arms, rubbing her bare shoulder. "It's freezing. It was great seeing you."

  "Yeah, you too." I lingered on that last word, wanting to say more, but she turned and trotted back to the trunk of Allison's car, taking out her own black backpack and a brown Trader Joe's shopping bag. We'd waved our goodbyes and I shuffled back to Gabe, who was leaning against the side of his truck, watching the whole thing. I'd yet to share with him any real information about my life. He didn't seem like the type to buy tabloid mags, seeing as he had the type of clientele who usually appeared on the covers.

  "Awkward, yeah?" He scratched his head, feeling it.

  Maybe he did know what was going on.

  "Yep."

  4

  The line outside The Hotel Café was thick, and the excitement charged through me, erasing any anxious feelings I had about the show, or Aly, for that matter. As soon as I opened the car door, fans began to scream, waiving excitedly. I waved in return, bowing my head with hands in prayer, thanking them as I was whisked into the side door. Bobby arrived alone, still looking the same has he always had, tucking his pack of cigs in his back pocket. He wore a worn-out t-shirt and black Levi's, and dirty-worn out Van's tennis shoes. Marshall's fashion sense had certainly not affected his husband in the least.

  We did our sound check, and Bobby, Stoney and I discussed what would go down during the show. I explained to them how Marty would be filming our performance. Gabe stood off near the loading area door, waiting for his wife and a friend. He'd asked if he could invite them to meet me - "My wife loves your music…"

  What could I say? I was humbled. Bobby asked what the plans were for my music, and I explained to him and Stoney that I didn't have anything firm, that the show was just about feeling it out, filming it, and releasing the footage - throwing the cards up to see where they fell.

  I'd removed myself from an intense political conversation Bobby began to have with Stoney, whom you wouldn't think would
know anything of politics by the way he looked, all long-haired heroin chic - though he was sober. I was dead-set on having only recovering and/or non-users or drinkers in my camp. As soon as I'd heard Congressman blah blah blah, The White House, this, that, and the other roll off Stoney's tongue, I dashed to grab something to drink.

  Marty finally arrived, clumsily making his way through the side door with his camera bags and tripods. A camera dangled from his neck; he must have been outside snapping shots. I watched with amusement as he began setting up his cameras to record the new lease on my musical life. Everybody in attendance had a chance to be captured on camera and to appear in the video. The video would be used to announce my solo career to the masses and the music industry. This was just between a handful of people. Though the rumor mill was churning, I had everyone hanging with anticipation.

  As I stood at the bar, I watched Gabe usher two dark-haired women out from the back of the stage area. I wondered which one was his wife, when my eyes were drawn to the taller one in particular. She was one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever laid eyes on, a statuesque, raven-haired, fair-skinned beauty. I could see her ocean-blue eyes from where I stood, and her lips were full and pink, yet they didn't look false at all. Her eyes shimmered in the light as she looked around in a bit of awe.

  I stood taller and smoothed my shirt when I saw Gabe point in my direction. The other fairy-featured woman with short, shoulder-length brown hair, led the way. I assumed she was Gabe's wife. She beamed up at me when Gabe introduced her. She was a whole head shorter than her friend.

  "Jake, this is my wife Margo and her friend Grace."

  Grace, indeed.

  I smiled at the both of them and extended my hand to Margo. "It's nice to meet you. Thank you for coming."

  Margo grasped my hand, shaking it vigorously. "I love your music. I always have, since your early days. I told Gabe here when we first saw you play, when you were just a teen…watch out for that kid." She wagged her finger at me. "We saw you play at Gibson Theater, which is something else now…" she looked up thoughtfully, trying to recall the new name. "Well anyway, you know, at one of those awards shows. Gabe was driving someone famous."

  Margo giggled and looked at her friend, finally releasing my hand, and I extended it to Grace. She placed her delicate hand in mine, and I felt as if it would snap if I squeezed too hard. "Grace." I bowed my head; I wasn't sure why, feeling compelled, like she was royalty. She smiled faintly at me. "Thank you for coming," I said. The urge coming out of nowhere, I brought her hand to my mouth, kissing the top of it. She tilted her head toward me, and I dropped her hand gently.

  "You're too kind, Jake." This time the smile reached her eyes, and she blushed. This warmed me, and not in a sexual way. There was something about Grace. I glanced at Gabe and Margo, and they both wore satisfied expressions.

  Margo clapped her hands. "Let's get a drink." Just as she spoke and moved to the bar, the venue opened their doors and people began to fill the room and I excused myself.

  I lurked around the heavy red curtain, side-stage, to watch Grace. She moved with finesse, and there was a despairing allure about her. I wondered how old she was; she looked quite a bit younger than Gabe and slightly younger than Margo.

  I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.