Garrett didn’t say anything. I twisted off the bolts and put them in a pile, carefully taking apart the cymbals and laying them off to the side.
“I went out to my parents’ place,” I found myself saying. Garrett looked over at me in surprise.
“You did?” he asked, twisting the mic stand and collapsing it.
I picked up the snare and put it beside the cymbals. “Yeah. Someone else lives there now.”
Garrett stopped what he was doing and came over. He bent down and picked up the bolts and put them in a Tupperware container. “Wow, that’s some shit. I’m guessing they didn’t tell you they were moving.”
I shook my head. “Fuck no. I haven’t talked to those bastards in years,” I said gruffly, trying to hide how much it hurt. But Garrett saw right through me.
“That sucks, man. I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
“Yeah, well what are you gonna do?” I brushed it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. A lot.
“Do you know where they went?” Garrett asked, picking up the dissassembled drums and carrying them over to the half stack. I followed with the rest of the kit.
“No. And I don’t care either. Fuck them!” I said with enough vehemence to be convincing.
Garrett glanced at me and smiled. “Yeah, f**k them,” he agreed.
We finished breaking the leftover equipment down. “This stuff will be picked up in the morning. I say we’re done here. You want to go get a beer?” Garrett asked, surprising me.
“Sure,” I said.
We walked to the Appleby’s down the road and sat down at the bar. Garrett ordered a pitcher of beer.
“Thanks for the help,” he said after the bartender left to get our order.
“Yeah, sure. You should have called if you needed help,” I said, knowing how stupid that was. Particularly with how he and I had left things.
But Garrett didn’t say anything about that. He just nodded as if I was right.
“How’ve you been?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Been better. You?”
“’Bout the same,” he answered as the bartender brought our pitcher and mugs.
We poured ourselves a beer. Garrett grabbed a handful of peanuts and threw them in his mouth, watching the television screen playing a basketball game in the corner.
“I know you think we’re holding you back. And maybe you’re right. I’ve thought a lot about shit since Sunday and I think you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he said suddenly.
“What the f**k are you talking about?” I asked.
Garrett shrugged, taking his eyes off the TV to look at me. “You and me, we’ve been friends for a long time. And I know you wouldn’t purposefully f**k us over.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Where was this sage wisdom when you were telling me what a dick I was?”
Garrett’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I was pissed. You played that damn song when I didn’t want you to. I wasn’t thinking clearly. None of us were. But I’ve had a few days to calm down. And with everything going on, I think we’ve been pretty unfair to you.”
I downed half of my beer. “And do the others agree with you?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Garrett shrugged again. “I doubt it. But Jordan is a hothead, just as you are. And Mitch will go along with whatever Jordan says. That doesn’t mean you weren’t an ass**le, because you were. What you did was wrong. But we should never have walked off that stage. And we should never have accused you of trying to push us out. It wasn’t cool. We all have to take some accountability for getting to where we are.”
I didn’t know what to say. This didn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but I started to feel a whole lot better.
“I think it’s just sad that after everything we’ve been through, it’s going to end over something so f**king stupid. For nothing.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Because we had messed up big time.
“But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, Cole. And at the end of the day, I’ll still be here if you need me.”
And that was exactly what I needed to hear.
Garrett finished his beer and slid his empty mug down the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got to his feet.
“Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
I could only nod as he tossed some cash on the bar and with a nod, walked out.
The guy with the least to say always had been the one to make me think the most.
And he had given me something I desperately needed.
Some perspective.
20
It was Saturday night and I was home. By myself.
There was something almost criminal about that.
But lately I wasn’t fit for human interaction. I was moody and prone to irrational outbursts of the colorful language variety. Gracie asked innocently whether I liked her new shoes.
I adored them. They were fabulous and pink and with hot heels that made her legs go on for miles.
But I was suffering from a raging case of crotch face so instead of being the supportive friend, I told her I didn’t care about her stupidly awesome footwear. I had then proceeded to tell her to leave me the f**k alone.
I had stomped off to my room, slammed the door dramatically and then promptly turned around and apologized.
Gracie inquired as to whether Aunt Flo was visiting.
It was a legit question.
But Bitch McGee (that would be me) took offense and stomped off to my room again.
The rest of my week hadn’t been much better. I was short-tempered and emotional. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.
And I blamed Cole Brandt completely.
This is what happened when I spent time with him. I lost all sense of rational thinking. I became a mess of epic proportions.
I was a flipping psychopath!
It got so bad that Marion had asked, somewhat hesitantly, if I was coming down with something.
I was coming down with something all right. It was called Can’t-Get-Over-A-Man-itis. The main symptoms involved spending an inordinate amount of time wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself.
I should have felt a renewed sense of power! I had put my foot down and not had sex with Cole when he was being all sweet and gorgeous-like.
I had told him what I thought and held firm.
So why was I feeling all sad and depressed with random outbursts of uncontrollable rage?
Because deep down I knew, that even though he drove me crazy, Cole was the only person who made me feel alive. With anyone else, Theo included, I was just going through the motions. With Cole, it was balls to the walls, let’s set the house on fire passion.