“Fuck man!” I exhale the words once the door is shut, put my hands behind my head, and slouch back in the chair, his low blow hitting its mark dead on.
“Dude … you teaching? That’s hilarious,” Vince says, words interspersed with laughter. “Professor Play. Sounds like a bad stage name for a porno.”
“Shut it, Vince.” Even if I had any intention of saying yes, what the fuck would I talk about? I mean I’m sure the judge isn’t looking for someone to lecture about the women who ask me to sign their tits or who hand me their panties as a proposition. I shove up out of the chair, needing to move, to chew over all of this.
“Well, if you’re not sure what to do, man, I’d say you should just tell the truth and quit cleaning up Hunter’s shit.”
“I am telling the truth!” I grit the words out with my jaw clenched, hands fisted momentarily as I control my urge to punch the wall beside me. They need to stop making me repeat myself.
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
“Vince.” It’s the only warning I can give him because he’s right, and I don’t have anything else to convince him otherwise. He’s my best friend for Christ’s sake, knows me better than I know myself, and yet here I am, spinning a web of lies, hoping he can’t see right through them.
“Look, do what you’ve gotta do, man. I’ll stand behind you whatever you decide and for whatever your reasons but …” His voice trails off as my shoulders droop under the weight of the guilt I carry around with me like a second skin.
“But what?” I ask even though I already know the answer. “You’re siding with Ben on this?” Fuck, if that’s the case, I know he’s serious.
“No, man, just siding with simple logic. We’ve all worked so damn hard for this…. It’s all we’ve eaten, slept, or drank for the last ten years. To have Hunter almost lose it for us once and now possibly fuck it up when we’re finally making a name for ourselves?” His voice breaks for a moment and I know there’s more coming, know he has something else he wants to say and in typical Vince fashion is taking his sweet ass time getting to it. “I get and don’t get all at the same time your loyalty to your brother, but fuck, man, what about your loyalty to us? To everything we have riding on you? What about letting us down?”
And of course he went in for the kill with that line.
“Yeah, no pressure or anything. Thanks,” I say quietly, having no one to blame but myself for the drama swirling around me. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and hate the person I see because once again, Hunter is getting exactly what he wants at my expense: big brother protecting little brother at all costs.
I just happen to think that this cost might break the bank in all senses of the meaning.
We’re both quiet as I try to figure out my next step, my next chord, the next lyric in my life’s song.
“Well, the bright side is that you’ll be on a college campus, which means tons of fresh-faced college coeds for you to take your pick from, lure in with your pretty-boy smile, and then corrupt with your fucked-up ways.” He turns to look at me for the first time and I see the plea in his eyes for me to do this, to take the offer to lecture. Throw the band a fucking bone when they’ve put their money on me while I’m busy trying to use mine to save my brother. “We missed this rite of passage being on the road so much, might as well take advantage of it while you can, right?”
When I run a hand through my hair, I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. A treble clef and an okodee. My ever-present reminder of where I came from and what I need to do to get where I want to go.
If I’m honest with myself, I already know what I’m going to do despite the reluctance and my irritation at having a decision to even make.
If I thought it would fool him, I’d put on my stage face to convince him of my absolute certainty about going forward with this but we’ve been friends for way too long and have been through way too much shit together for me to pull one over on him. I infuse enthusiasm in my voice anyway.
Fake it until you make it. Sounds about fucking par for the course to me.
“I do love the classy, intelligent type,” I murmur.
“Who the fuck are you kidding?” Vince says, relief in his voice since he knows my comment is my way of telling him I’m going to do it. Sell myself to save everyone else. “If they have a pussy, they’re your type.”
I can’t fight the smile on my face. “True but dude, give me some credit here. You make me sound like I’ll play with any kitty that wants to be petted.”
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk of amusement on his lips. “This being said from the ringmaster of his own three-ring Cirque du Pussy.”
“You’re so wrong.” I laugh at our long-running joke about lead singers and their inherent draw for female fans. And thank fuck I’m on the lucky end of that deal. I’d best be happy that doing this seminar will keep me on the other end of the microphone instead of the wrong end of a jail cell. I roll my shoulders and feel the weight of the decision I’ve made begin to lessen some as the idea settles. Shaking my head, I walk back to the chair beside him and just stand there as I meet his eyes. I never doubt my decisions so I’m not quite sure why I’m doing it now.
“This is the right thing to do, right?” And I’m not sure if I’m talking about covering for Hunter or agreeing to do the seminar when I throw out the question, but he doesn’t ask. He just nods his head with unwavering support when he reads the turmoil in my eyes.