Chapter 3: Living to Die
My apologies for this taking so long. Life got in the way, delaying things a bit. There is one chapter left. You'll understand when you get to the end. Thank you for reading and have fun.
***
The next few months were a blur on the road. I'll go with six. Before I knew it I was in Detroit, Michigan, and sitting in a strip club drinking a nice cold beer. Strip clubs are nice places, scantily clad women and rocking music always make for a fun time. It was the first break we had since Vegas. We had a few days off before New Year's Eve, where we were performing a private show, then meandering east to New York, and then south, finishing up in Florida. About another five to six months.
For now, we had a few days and I was spending them in this nice strip club within two blocks from our hotel. I haven't thought about anything since Vegas, and now I was sitting in a strip club, still trying not to think. The dancers were pretty, and the music was loud. I was staring at the TVs, but not really watching them.
Then, the pinnacle of my career occurred. One of my songs came on, "Living to Die". The best part was the place came alive, and everyone started singing along. I smiled, thinking I should retire. It couldn't get better than this. Fortunately, I wasn't drunk enough to forget it. I was feeling good enough that I might not even get blackout drunk.
After the song was over, one of the girls sat down next to me. She was wiping her eyes, careful not to mess her make up. "Everything okay?" I asked. Where the hell did that come from? When did I start to care?
She looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, that song gets me every time. It came out during a dark time in my life, and it practically saved me. It was like the songwriter knew about my pain, and how low things could get. Knowing someone could feel such pain and loss, and move on, and live, gave me hope. I just wish I could meet them and thank them for it. I was at the show last night. It was everything I could have hoped for and more."
She took a drink of water, and apologized, "I'm sorry to be boring you. Might be a once in a lifetime opportunity from what I hear. They are big in Europe, but not so much here. Hope that changes when they see the fan base they have here."
I smiled back, "It's okay. I like them as well and was at the show also. The show was pretty awesome. I was exhausted after." One thing I learned from my ex, was how to lie and tell the truth at the same time. Never give up any more information than necessary, and let them believe what they will with what little you give them. Human nature, they tend to believe what is less painful. That is until they get burned and become cynical.
We talked a little more before she had to get back to her job. The bartender set down another cold pint of liquid gold in front of me. I thought of the song that had played, "Living to Die". It was also the name of the third album. The album after I lost my original band, and a really good friend.
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Just when I thought things were looking up, they went to shit. Max and I caught Helen, Max's wife, and Ingrid, our lead guitarist, band manager, and promoter, having sex. The three of them ended up dead, and I ended up in the hospital. I was only there for a couple of days. I thought my leg was broke. It wasn't, but there was a bullet stuck in it. They removed it, patched me up, and kept me in a couple days longer. I think I was only there so they could evaluate my mental state. Once I seemed okay, they let me out.
Rocky wouldn't let me back to work at the music store. He said I needed a couple of days to get my head straight. I headed straight to the bottom of a bottle.
Daniel swung by shortly after my release from the hospital. We talked about his retirement from the band. I gave him his share for things up to that point. He would also get royalties on the first two albums, and not just his. Daniel's lawyer had found a strange clause in our contracts, that Ingrid had put together. It stipulated that in the event of death to other members, the royalties would be split amongst the surviving. Made me wonder what she was up to. A cynical mind would say nothing good. Of course, in my state, she was probably hedging her bet that I wouldn't make it very long. I gave Daniel Max's and Ingrid's full shares of royalties. He and his family needed it more than I did.
Leona and Rocky tried to help me. I appreciated their efforts, but my mental state was on a downward spiral. To be honest, if it wasn't for them, I may not have made it to Max, Ingrid, and Helen's funeral. They were all being buried the same day, in the same cemetery. Helen and Max together, Ingrid some distance away. I had no love for Helen or Ingrid for what they did to Max, but Rocky had convinced me I should go to the funeral. Rocky knew I would regret not going once (if) I ever sobered up.
The day they buried Max, was the day I sobered up and left the apartment for something other than alcohol. I got to the cemetery just as everyone was leaving. I was alone at his grave and stayed for a couple of hours, just talking. Then I disappeared.
If there was a rock bottom I had hit it and dug lower. My self-pitying over my ex-wife Penelope was piled upon with the guilt of what happened to Max and his wife. I knew I couldn't run from myself, but I tried anyway.
I headed back to Europe where I rode and drank.
Then the music saved me again.
---
I was snapped out of my memories by the bartender. Apparently, it was late, and they had to close. I settled my bill and headed back to the hotel a few blocks down. I poured myself into bed until the next day.
It was just after lunch when I woke up. I ordered room service, got cleaned up, and grabbed some coffee, but no alcohol. As the tour went on, I had been drinking less and less. I was coming to terms with things. I thought about the stripper from the night before. Since L.A I was paying attention and heard a lot of stories like hers. I didn't believe Max when he said my music was helping people. Somehow, Lynn started me on this road of deeper reflection and it continued. I started to realize the music was helping me, I wasn't seeing it until we got to the States, and I was facing things I had been ignoring.
The letter Lynn wrote me sat on the nightstand. I still had not opened it, not quite there yet. There was a knock at the door, and Rocky came in. He grabbed some coffee and sat in the desk chair in the room.
