She leaned back in the chair, scanning me, looking for something, a tell or an angle, I wasn’t sure. I raised my eyebrows very slightly, just enough to look playful. She quickly sat upright and focused on the documents in front of her. “We’re here because Chad has a promising career in front of him.”
“That remains to be seen,” I countered quickly.
She pulled a paper from her binder. “He has an inner-ear infection and this is the doctor’s note.”
I took the note from across the table. There was a list of about twenty possible causes, including the most common at the top: bacteria or virus. Somewhere down the list, I found the word trauma. Someone had highlighted it as if to imply that was the cause.
Trying to remain as cool and collected as possible, I set the paper down and looked up, right into Charlene’s eyes. “I had nothing to do with Chad’s ear infection, and you know it. Why don’t we stop right here, because I know you don’t want to blackmail me. That’s not your style. Put your cards on the table, and tell me why you’re here.”
At first it seemed like my words had angered her. She began tapping a paper clip on the table fervently. After a few deep breaths through her nose and out her mouth, she asked calmly, “Will you help my nephew?”
In the same calm voice, I replied, “Not. In. This. Fucking. Lifetime. Or the next.”
“Will,” Frank said in a no-nonsense tone.
Charlene shook her head for emphasis as she tried to persuade me. “Listen to me, Will, he promised—no more shenanigans. He needs you guys. He’s a good kid, he really is, and he looks up to you so much.”
“He doesn’t need me, he has a record deal. Live Wire will find another producer and studio. It’s not a big deal.”
“He really wants you guys. He knows what a talent you and your girlfriend are.”
“Fiancée.”
“Fiancée, of course. Just sit with it for a while. You can decide in a few days.”
Frank nodded his head at me as if to say take her up on the offer.
I thought about Mia and how she seemed so concerned with stability. I wondered why I was fighting this kid. I wondered why it sometimes felt like a fight to give up our songs. The one thing I knew in that moment was that no matter what, we had control. I leaned back and crossed my arms. “I will not move forward until I have everything in writing. He has no creative input at all, and I want a higher percentage in royalties.”
There were several moments of silence.
Charlie stared at me, chewing on the side of her lip nervously. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Ryan, but I think Chad and the label will agree to your terms,” she said with a perfunctory smile.
As I walked her out through the lobby, she stopped when a black-and-white picture on the wall caught her eye. It was Mia sitting on my lap at the piano, both our faces frozen in laughter.
“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Mia.”
Charlene nodded. “Ah, well, good for you.” She stuck her hand out for me to shake. I knew she’d realized it was the girl I was pouring my guts out to her about that night back in the hotel room. “We’ll be in touch, Will.”
“Bye, Charlie.”
She smiled genuinely for the first time and then walked out the door.
My phone buzzed loudly in my pocket. I took a long breath and looked down at the screen. It was Mia and I was relieved the drama was over for the day.
“Hi, babe. How was the fitting?”
“Good. The dress should be perfect.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I want it to be a total surprise.”
“Yeah,” I said, but I was still preoccupied, thinking about the cluster-fuck that had just transpired over Chad. I should have been happy; it had basically gone in my favor.
“What’s wrong, Will?”
“Nothing.”
“I thought about you all day today. I just couldn’t stop thinking that something was bugging you.”
Mia could always sense things. Call it female intuition, who knows, but I couldn’t get anything past her. “Why?”
“I don’t know, just had a weird feeling.”
“I’m okay. Everything’s fine and it’s all good now. Don’t worry.”
“You’re gonna have fun with the guys tonight, right? By the way, I’m meeting Martha for an early dinner, so I probably won’t see you.”
“Okay, tell her I said hi. I won’t be too late.”
“Just have fun, baby,” she said vehemently.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
When Tyler got to my apartment, he looked disappointed. Scowling and shaking his head, he said, “What are you wearing?”
I had on a red T-shirt that said “Sup” on it and black jeans. “I like this shirt. What’s wrong with it?”
“Don’t you have any shirts that don’t have writing on them?”
I walked back to my room, tore my shirt off and threw it on the bed. I stared up into my closet.
Tyler came to my room and stood in the doorway. “How do you have fucking abs? You don’t even work out.”
“You admiring my physique?” I said to him without taking my eyes off the closet.
“It’s just not right.”
I pulled a plain black T-shirt off the hanger and slipped it over my head. “How’s this?”
“Better.”
As we headed down the stairs, Tyler yelled back, “We’re meeting Josh and Kyle.”
“Are you kidding me? I can’t stand Josh.”
He turned to me just before walking out into the street. “He’s fun.”
“He acts like a fool. He’ll either get into a fight, get kicked out of the bar, or get arrested.”
“He hasn’t been arrested in two years and anyway, so what if he does? It’s entertainment.”
He had a point. “Yeah, I guess. Where are we headed?”
“We’re meeting the guys at the Red Bar.”
“I love that place—they have the best jukebox.”
We entered the tiny red bar and found Josh and Kyle sitting at the end. As soon as they spotted us, Josh stood up, threw his pudgy arms into the air and yelled, “Dicks before chicks, man!”
I ducked behind Tyler, shaking my head. In the five seconds it took us to reach Josh and Kyle at the end of the bar, they had already ordered me an Irish Car Bomb. After high fives and fist bumps, Josh pushed the beer and shot toward me and started chanting, “Chug, chug, chug.”
Josh was a cross between Chris Farley and Jack Nicholson. He was overweight with plenty of stupid energy, but he had these really exaggerated eyebrows and an overbearing forehead, which gave a permanently sinister look to his face.
I dropped the shot in the beer and downed the whole thing in three huge gulps, then slammed it back down on the bar.
Kyle, who was always with Josh, was the perfectly innocent sidekick. He was skinny, blond, and a virgin at the age of thirty, which basically made him the butt of all jokes. He and Josh were Tyler’s old roommates. They’d met in college when all three of them worked part time at Subway. They still called themselves sandwich artists—ridiculous.
Kyle was a decent-enough-looking guy, so it was hard to understand how he hadn’t gotten with at least one girl. The only explanation I could come up with was that he was always with Josh, who was the female deflector. In bars, women wouldn’t come within ten feet of Josh, yet he always found a way to get a girlfriend. At the time, he was dating a belly dancer he’d met while she was performing at a Mediterranean restaurant.
“Speaking of chicks, how’s your girl, Josh?”
“She’s great. She’s working tonight. You guys want to go check her out?”
“Uh, no,” Tyler said.
Josh objectified his own girlfriend in the strangest way and then told everyone she liked it, another reason I couldn’t stand him.
“What’s her name again, bro?” I asked.
This time Kyle chimed in.
“Saphir!” he blurted out.
Josh turned toward him and glared before turning back to Tyler and me. “That’s her stage name. And Kyle here got to see her perform last weekend.”
“Did I ever,” Kyle said dreamily.
Josh elbowed him.
“Is that an Indian name?” I asked.
“Her real name is Brittney. She’s from Kentucky, total white girl, but man, she can shake it. You know what I mean?” He wiggled his Jack Nicholson eyebrows.
“Nice,” I said, smiling sarcastically.
“Kyle, when are you gonna go for it?”
“Go for what?” The question terrified him.
“What do you think?” Tyler said.
“I’m waiting for the right girl,” he replied in a squeaky voice before taking a large gulp of beer. He was tapping his fingers on the bar nervously.
“She’s cute.” I pointed to a small, unintimidating-looking woman standing a few feet away, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Why don’t you go buy her a drink?”
“You should,” Josh blurted out. “I’ll help you.”
“No!” Tyler and I yelled in unison.
Josh didn’t listen and Kyle just sat there, eyes opened as wide as they could go. Josh stood up on his toes to see over the other patrons blocking his view of the tiny, short-haired blonde. “Hey, hottie!” he yelled.
“Oh, God.” I planted my face in my palms over the bar.
“Yeah, you, Tinker Bell. My buddy here wants to buy your sweet ass a drink.”
“Christ,” Tyler mumbled.
Kyle literally sank within himself on the stool. His expression was nothing short of horrified. The girl shook her head and moved farther down the bar, away from us.
“Way to go, dickwad.” I said to Josh.
“What? That chick was a bitch. I saved Kyle from some serious heartache.” He smacked Kyle on the back.
“Ouch. I don’t need your help, Josh. You fucking cock block me every time we’re out. What is your problem?”
“Time for more shots!” Josh announced.
Several hours of irresponsible binge drinking went on before the shit hit the fan. Apparently while Tyler and I sat unaware, arguing over where to get the best pizza, Kyle and Josh were having a heart-to-heart. It started when Josh apologized for the scene earlier with Tinker Bell. The conversation went on and on, both of them professing their drunken love for each other while Tyler and I continued an old argument about the difference between yams and sweet potatoes—that’s the kind of profound shit Tyler and I talked about. We were startled back to reality when we heard Josh shout, “What the fuck?”
“She came on to me,” Kyle said with his hands up defensively.
Josh went toward him in what appeared to be the universal gesture for I am going to kill you by strangulation while yelling, “You didn’t have to fuck her.”
“Oh, shit, you fucked the belly dancer?” Tyler said to Kyle.
At the same time, Josh blurted out “Brittney” while Kyle yelled “Saphir.”
The men immediately started rolling around on the ground, trying to kill each other while Tyler tried to break it up. As hard as it was, I managed to ignore all the commotion.
I yelled to the bartender, who was looking on in disbelief. I shrugged. “It’s my bachelor party.”
He nodded. “Right on. Congrats, man. Are those your friends?”
“No!” I yelled back. I paid for all the drinks, another downside to hanging out with idiots, and then I walked outside and gave a homeless guy four dollars for one cigarette.
Tyler followed shortly after. “That was crazy.”
“Are they still fighting in there?” I said, blowing a lungful of smoke into the air.
“No, Kyle escaped out the back door while Josh was puking behind the bar. He’ll be kicked out for sure. It’s only a matter of seconds.”
Sure enough, ten seconds later, two burly bouncers came out, dragging Josh between them.
“We’ll take it from here, boys,” I said before turning and flagging down a cab. “I’ll walk home. Do you want to get Josh to his place?”
“Will, this is your bachelor party—we’ve only been to one bar. We have a couple more stops on the agenda.”
“Dude, I’m done. I’m over it.”
Josh stood between us, swaying. “That bitch cheated on me,” he slurred. “Stupid whore. Im’a kill her… and him.”
“Whoa, Josh, settle down,” Tyler said. “We’re gonna get you home.” Tyler turned his attention toward me. “Will, you have to come with me. What if he passes out?”
“You’re fucking huge; you’ll manage.”
“I can’t lift three hundred pounds of dead weight.”
“Take me to find Brittney. Please, guys.”
“No, we’re taking you home.” I barked, “You can cry all you want, but no one is going to die over a skanky belly dancer.”
“Why you callin’ her a skank, man?” he said and then began weeping like a baby.
We managed to shove Josh into the back of a cab. Tyler got in after him, and I slipped into the front seat. Josh mumbled his address and then farted and burped at the same time. I spent the rest of the drive to Josh’s house with my head out the window.
Unbelievably, when we reached his apartment, he was able to fully navigate his rotund body up the narrow staircase to his door. After we made sure he was safely inside, we went out to the cab and got in the back.
“Seriously, Tyler, I think I’m done.”
“I have a surprise for you.” He whispered something to the cabbie. The man nodded.
“I’m tired.”
“All you have to do is sit there and watch.”
“No. I said no strippers.”
“Be quiet, pussy.”
When we pulled up in front of my loft and studio building, I turned to Tyler. “You’re dropping me off at home. Is that the big surprise?”
We hopped out; Tyler told the cabbie to wait. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and began unlocking the door to the studio. The first thing I noticed was that the alarm didn’t go off.
“What are we doing? Please tell me you didn’t hire strippers to come here.”
“What are friends for? Come on, it would be a waste of money if you didn’t go back there and at least sneak a peek.” He patted me on the back and then pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. “Here, you might need this. It’s whiskey—only the finest.”
“Tyler, I don’t know about this.”
“Just go back there. Take a seat in the control room.” When I took the flask from his hands and entered the lobby, he said, “Have fun.”
“Wait a minute, you’re not going in there with me?”
“No way, this is all for you,” he said before abruptly shutting the door and locking me in. He strolled back to the cab, and then without looking back, he threw his hand up and waved good-bye.
I shook my head, took a larger-than-necessary swig from the flask, and began heading down the long hallway to the control room. It was so dark that I had to feel my way over to the light switch. I brushed the switch plate with my hand and noticed that someone had placed tape over it, preventing me from turning the light on.
Then I heard a female voice whisper, “Uh uh,” over the control-room speakers. I felt my way to the sound board and chair and sat down. I was squinting, trying to see inside the sound room, when the music began playing. Even though there were no lights blinking on the board, I still felt around for the buttons and knobs but quickly realized the equipment in the control room was off except for one microphone feed.
Whoever was in the sound room had control of the music. I recognized the song right away from the humming in the beginning. It was “Retrograde” by James Blake. The sound room remained dark until the first clapping beat of the song. What happened next is hard for me to put into words, but goddammit, I’ll try.
Right at that first beat, a small light went on overhead on the other side of the glass. The
dim spotlight shone down into an empty space in the middle of the sound room until a woman very slowly and seductively stepped into the light. She was wearing a short, black lace dress, so short I could see the black garters peeking out from underneath. Feeling my heart rate increase, I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans and rocked back in my chair nervously.
She threw her leg up onto the piano bench and then ran both hands up her thigh, raising the dress even higher. With ease, she reached down and removed her black stiletto heel, setting it on the bench beside her foot. She raised her dress again and unbuckled the garter from the leg still perched on the bench. In painfully slow motion, she rolled the material down and off her foot before tossing it into the darkness. I could see bright red nail polish on her fingers and toes, the same shade of red she wore on her lips. It was like the overhead light created this illusion that the woman was in one of those black and white photos where only a few objects are colored in. Her skin was radiant and glowing against her dark, almost black hair. She put her heel back on and then repeated the same torturous motion on the other leg as I watched in complete awe.
Her beauty took my breath away and the way she moved and the music—I was about to come undone. I took another swig of whiskey. She approached the glass, slowly unzipping the side of her dress as she moved. Her eyes were fixed on mine. Her pouty lips were just barely open. Standing two feet from the glass, she slid the shoulder of her dress off one side and the whole thing fell to the ground. Her dark hair, curled in loose ringlets, fell back on her shoulders, caressing the tops of her breasts. She turned around and, with her back to me, unclasped her bra, tossing it aside. She gripped her garter belt and thong on each hip and bent over to slide them down her legs. Her perfect ass was right at my eye level.
She strutted away from the glass, never turning around until she reached the piano bench. Her movements were so graceful and seductive, like she had been stripping for years. She turned to face me as she straddled the bench. I watched her expression change from alluring and provocative to playful. A sweet, knowing smile flashed across her face. With her legs spread, totally exposed, she pointed her finger at the glass and summoned me. It was my beautiful, lovely Mia, sitting there wearing nothing but her heels, waiting for me to take her.