Rhythm in Blue Page 12

  She squeezed his knee as she rose. “Of course you can. You should have had one by now, but like I said, I thought you were sleeping.” Before she left the room, she stopped and looked back. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing a better song, not by Randy, not by anyone.”

  Rick smiled, encouraged and embarrassed by the praise. To him, the song had special meaning, and he felt so strongly about it that it was difficult to look at it with any objectivity. He wanted to play it again, but Morgan was still standing a few feet away, as though she expected something from him. He raised his brow to her, hoping she would come out with whatever she wanted to say.

  Finally, she approached him and offered her hand. “Do you need some help up?”

  He took her hand and slowly rose to his feet, surrendering to the notion that his time alone had ended. She picked up his cane from where it lay on the floor, forgotten in his enthusiasm for the guitar, and handed it to him.

  “Erin has some chili ready if you’re hungry. Best not let that pill land on an empty stomach.” She turned and headed toward the door. Rick followed, but at a much slower pace.

  ~

  Morgan poured herself and Erin another glass of wine, but set the bottle down without offering Rick any. He stuck his bottom lip out when she settled back in her seat.

  “You’ve already had a glass, and you’re not supposed to mix alcohol with those pain pills.”

  “That’s right, doctor’s orders,” Erin said.

  “Give me a break. I’m pretty sure I can handle another glass of wine. If anything’s gonna kill me, it’ll be all this goddamn Mexican food I’ve had to eat for the last six weeks. Don’t you know how to cook anything else girl? I mean, seriously.” Rick reached across the table, grabbed the bottle, and poured himself another glass.

  Erin shook her head at him, “Beggars can’t be choosers, so quit your whining. I’m sorry if I love Mexican food, but I have to get my fill before I go back. You can’t make this stuff in Greece.” She stood and began to gather up the dishes, but stopped when the doorbell rang. Setting the stack of bowls down, she hurried out of the kitchen to answer the door. Morgan followed her.

  When they both left the room, Rick stood and shuffled over to the sink and opened the drawer beside it. He removed the bottle of pills, made a quick check of the door, shook three pills into his hand, put the lid on, and threw the bottle back in the drawer. Erin’s voice neared the kitchen. He popped one pill into his mouth and slipped the other four into his pocket. Stumbling across the floor, he made it back into his chair before the door opened.

  As Erin pushed through, Rick just had time to take a gulp of his wine to wash it down.

  “You didn’t get any more wine while I was gone, did you?” Erin asked suspiciously.

  “Nope, same glass, I promise.”

  Randy and Morgan followed her through the door. As Morgan let the door swing shut behind her, they all heard a loud thump followed by a yelp.

  Morgan opened the door to reveal Keith holding his nose. “Oh my God – I am so sorry, are you okay? I thought you had it.”

  Keith shook his head as he pushed at his nose with his left hand and then with his right. A loud, cracking noise accompanied each push. Morgan shrieked in horror, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent the shriek from sounding any louder.

  Erin’s eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets, and she ran for the freezer, screaming, “Ice! Ice! I’ll get you some ice!”

  Randy and Keith burst out laughing, and Rick slammed his hand on the table and joined in. Morgan, while still appearing shocked, looked back and forth between the two in confusion.

  Halting mid-stride, Erin’s eyes went from bulging to skinny daggers as she observed Keith’s toothy grin.

  “That was too funny,” Randy wiped tears from his eyes and asked, “Really, have neither of you ever seen him do that?”

  “No,” Erin said in disgust.

  Keith did it again, but this time showed his thumbs inside his mouth, his thumbnails snapping away from his teeth.

  Morgan just shook her head, unable to speak, not having caught the breath she lost in her shock.

  “Well, I was going to offer you some chili, but just for that, you can’t have any,” Erin said as she resumed her task of clearing the table.

  “That’s okay, we grabbed something on the way over,” Randy said, putting his arm around Morgan and rolling his eyes at Rick. “We weren’t really in the mood for Mexican tonight.”

  “Yeah, me either, but I’m a captive and have no choice. Next time, bring me something, will ya?” With that, Erin swatted him on the head with a dishtowel.

  “Just be thankful I feed you at all. What are you gonna do after Thursday? Huh?”

  “Eat something besides Mexican I hope. I can cook you know.”

  “Yeah, Ramen and macaroni and cheese,” Erin said.

  “I can do a little better than that, give me some credit.” He poured himself another glass of wine, and noted that between the wine and the extra pill, he was no longer in pain, its warm, blissful effects now cradling his senses. Erin’s back was turned as she loaded the dishwasher, so he was safe from her scolding.

  Randy opened the cupboard and removed two glasses. Handing one to Keith, he took the other to the table, filled it with wine, and handed the bottle to Keith. He sat beside Morgan, who had finally managed to compose herself. “So, Ricky, why you keeping your door locked all of the sudden? Is there an escaped lunatic on the loose?”

  “That’s me,” Morgan said. “Don’t you watch the news? America is a dangerous country.”

  Randy gave her a squeeze. “Don’t worry, babe. No one’s gonna get you on my watch.” He took a sip of wine. “So, what did you guys do all day?”

  “We watched TV for the most part,” said Morgan. “Ricky got bored with our girlie movies and took a nap, but then he snuck off on his own and wrote himself a song.”

  Randy laughed. “You wrote a song?”

  “Yeah, I was bored and just messing around, it’s not even really a song.” He tried to downplay the accomplishment, not wanting to face the scrutiny of the great Randy Young.

  “Don’t be so modest,” Erin said. “It’s a wonderful song, one of the best I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really?” Randy’s asked in surprise. “What kind of song?”

  Without giving Rick a chance to reply, Erin answered, “I guess you’d call it a ballad, right Ricky?” He nodded and she continued, “It’s about love, how it can change who a person is, and how the loss of that love is so devastating. It’s really quite haunting, it stays with you. In fact, he even has a line in it about haunted dreams…or something haunting. God, I get goose bumps just thinking about it.” She shook her body to make her point.

  “Well let’s hear it then,” Randy said.

  “Another time, if I move from this room, it’ll be to go to bed and nothing else.”

  “You don’t have to move,” Erin said as she dashed toward the door. “I’ll get your guitar, and you can play it right here.”

  As she disappeared, Rick felt his palms getting sweaty and his face turning red. He had to question whether he would even be able to play at this point, as the second pill had fully kicked in, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Why are you so nervous?” Randy asked in surprise. “It’s just us, and I promise we’re not gonna boo or anything.”

  Rick grinned sheepishly as Erin returned with his guitar. She handed it to him, and he laid it across his lap. As he wrapped his hand around the neck, he noticed he was shaking. “I’d better have a smoke first,” he said, reaching for his pack on the table.

  “No, just play it – now.” Randy took the pack from his hand.

  Rick took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He chuckled again and began to pick at the strings to loosen up. Finally, he felt like he might be able to play after all, so he took another deep breath and unleashed the melody. As soon as he started, he felt himself, once again
, carried away by emotion. He poured his soul into the performance, and forgot who his audience was. It was a struggle to hit all the higher notes, but he managed as best he could and made it through to the end.

  When he was done, Keith shook his head, and Randy seemed deep in thought.

  “Play it again,” Randy finally said with a tic of his head. Rick started to refuse, but Randy cut him off and repeated himself with a little more force. “Play it again.” So Rick did.

  At the end, Randy smiled and struggled for something to say.

  “I told you, didn’t I?” Erin said. “It’s amazing.”

  “That it is, to say the least,” Keith agreed.

  “He’s a gifted bloke, no doubt about it,” Morgan nodded.

  Randy was still speechless, and just sat, smiling, and shaking his head. Now Rick was nervous as he waited for judgment. At last, Randy reached across the table, picked up Rick’s cigarettes, and shook two out of the pack. He took one and handed the other to Rick.

  “I think we both need a smoke after that.” He lit Rick’s cigarette and then his own. “Ricky, I don’t know what to say. You’ve blown me away.” He leaned back in his chair.

  Anxiously, Rick asked, “But do you like it? Is it any good?”

  “Ricky, it’s one of the best I’ve ever heard. I just can’t even believe it. I’m stunned, you’ve stunned me.”

  Rick smiled in relief. Randy’s opinion of the song was the one that meant the most to him. He didn’t trust his own judgment – he felt too close, too emotional about it.

  “Maybe you guys can add it to the new album,” Morgan said.

  Keith shook his head, “No, it’s too late for this one, but the next one for sure.”

  “No,” Randy said. “We’re gonna get it on this one, and I know when Devon hears it, he’ll feel the same way,” Randy extended his hand and Rick slapped it with his own. “I knew there was a reason we didn’t trade you in for Todd. My boy here’s got more talent than anyone knew.”

  Rick felt a sense of accomplishment he’d never known. Randy’s praise verified what he already knew, deep down. It made him feel like part of the group again, and an important part at that. Carried away by his emotions, he stood and excused himself. He had a strong desire to be alone and bask in his happiness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  While it wasn’t the way he planned it, or even wanted, Rick found himself back in the studio working on the new album, Slave to the Night. He knew he wasn’t physically ready, but Erin left and Rick was now in control of the pill bottle. He took what he needed to make it through a long day in the studio, and Devon made sure he got breaks as often as he needed. When he went home at night, he took as much as he wanted to escape to his euphoric world.

  Everyone worked together to perfect Rick’s song. Randy had been right, as soon as Devon heard it, he put the brakes on the album to include it. Between the four of them, they added and subtracted different instruments and elements to give the song the life it demanded. All that was left was getting the vocals right.

  Rick struggled with the higher notes. His voice cracked slightly at the peaks and his exhaustion showed through, but rather than over-dubbing it, Devon insisted they leave it. He thought it made it more personal and added emotion.

  Rick argued the preference, “I think it just makes me sound like I can’t sing for shit.”

  “No. Listen to the playback again. With the harmonies just below it, and the way your voice is so raw, it adds…I don’t know, a truthfulness. We need to keep it that way.”

  “I agree,” Randy said. “Play it back, Jay.”

  Their producer cued up the song from the beginning and nodded his head in time as the track played.

  “Yep,” Jay said, “those little imperfections make it…perfect.”

  “Yeah, just like that, perfect. Have you come up with a name for your creation yet?” Devon nudged Rick with his elbow.

  “No, everything sounds lame.”

  “Well, you need to figure out something soon, so we can be done with it.”

  Randy started vigorously tapping his pen on the board.

  “I know, I know. I’ll come up with something by the end of the day, okay?”

  “No, that’s not it. I was just thinking. Jay? Pull up Back Of My Mind for a sec.”

  Jay nodded and started the song. They all listened carefully, but Randy kept his gaze on Rick as the song played.

  “I can tell by the look on your face, now you can see what I’ve been bitching about all this time.”

  “What the hell? How does he do that? It’s all wrong.”

  “I know, I know,” Randy nodded. “It’s just bizarre. He absolutely refused to do it the way we wanted, he was convinced he was making it better.”

  “Huh, I guess I should have listened to you.”

  “Jay, is it too late to redo the bass?” Jay shook his head. “Ricky, think you can do better?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Great, and while you’re at it, we’ll go ahead and add your vocals everywhere they should have been.”

  And that’s how Randy won the battle, and Todd Henderson was no longer involved with Slave to the Night. Rick spent the next week in the studio rerecording. He started to feel like he was a slave to the night, he spent so many hours with Jay, redoing and remixing most of the songs on the album.

  By the end of the week his bottle of pills meant to last a month was empty, and he still had no name for his song. He called his doctor, but the refill came with a strong warning that the pills had to last a whole month this time. Rick knew that once he was back home and not working every day, the pain would be easier to manage and he wouldn’t need so many pills. He also discovered, thanks to Bob, the night security guard, that a few lines of cocaine helped perk him up from the pain pills, and made him actually want to play, and Bob never ran short on supply.

  The night they finished, their producer dropped Rick off at his dark house. Armed with a gram of coke and a bottle of Crown Royal, Rick figured it wouldn’t be wise to celebrate too much on an empty stomach, so he fixed himself a bowl of Ramen to go with his Crown and cocaine.

  He took a piece of paper and pencil from the counter and started making a list of possible names for the song. Every time he wrote something down, he crossed it off within a minute. Nothing seemed to capture the emotion of the song. Erin always said it was haunting, and he did mention his haunted dreams in the song. That’s what they felt like, as though Shelby was a ghost, always just out of reach. Many nights he spent searching for her, only to come up empty, feeling he’d just missed her. He wrote Haunted Dreams on the list and circled it, took two more pills, and limped off to bed to chase her again.

  The next morning, Devon called and broke the news that the song would not be on the new album. The record company had already spent too much money printing out album covers and cassette jackets. They refused to change it, and said it would have to wait for the next one.

  ~

  With a towel wrapped around his waist, Rick wiped the fog from the vanity mirror with a washcloth. He combed his hair down over his eyes, but his bangs had grown so long, he had to push them to the side. The steam from the hot water fogged the corners of the mirror again as he prepared to shave. His skin had an unnatural pallor, but he figured that was from spending so much time indoors. From the other room, Devon shouted at him to hurry up.

  “Trust me,” he yelled, “you could stay in there all day, and you’re not gonna get any prettier.”

  “Just hold your horses,” Rick called back. “I gotta at least be presentable. Tonight will be the first chance I’ve had to get lucky in months, so don’t rush me.”

  He wasn’t terribly anxious to be around so many people, accustomed now to spending time alone, enjoying his meds, and spending days in a fantasy land of his own making. But everyone expected him to attend the party, and if he didn’t, his friends would start watching him closely, and that he didn’t want. The opportunity to get laid at lon
g last finally convinced him to go.

  When he finished grooming and dressing, he joined Devon in the kitchen. Taking the bottle of pills from the counter, he removed four and shoved the container in his pocket. He chased them down with a swig from last night’s beer and pulled the stash bottle from his other pocket.

  “You want a hit before we go?” he asked. Devon chuckled and took the vial from his hands. They took turns snorting from the little spoon attached to the lid.

  “That shit is smooth! Where’d you get it?”

  “You know Bob, the rent-a-cop at the studio? He’s got good connections.” It wasn’t only cocaine Bob was good for – he’d also been supplying Rick with Percocet for the last few weeks. Rick went to the refrigerator and took out a can of beer. He held it out, but Devon shook his head.

  “I think I’ll wait till we get to the party.”

  “Suit yourself,” Rick said, grabbing a second can and rising. “Are we ready?”

  “I sure as hell hope so. I swear you’re as slow as a woman, Ricky.”

  They headed outside to Devon’s car. Still not willing to drive, Rick depended on others to get him around, and so far, he always had an available driver. Once he settled inside, he latched his seatbelt and cracked open the first can of beer.

  “Keith said he invited a lot of people, but I’m gonna be pissed if we get there and there’re no women.”

  “Trust me. It’s gonna be a big party. I know Julia invited at least ten of her friends, and Keith did everything but take out an ad in the paper. You’ll find someone to get you off.”

  “I hope so, ‘cause I’m so damn horny, I’d screw you if you weren’t married.”

  Devon laughed. “Yeah, you just keep your distance buddy, we’ll find you somebody a little more sexy.”

  Since Rick’s accident, everyone drove a little slower on the winding road to his house. Even though he was already pretty high, Rick couldn’t stop riding the imaginary brake at his feet and gripping the door handle. Seeing his anxiousness, Devon slowed down.

  “You okay there?”