Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Page 25

  I follow Tina’s advice to a T.

  I drive by the cemetery where Aunt Susan is buried, but I don’t stop. I haven’t stopped since November, before Thanksgiving. I feel like a shit about it when it crosses my mind, but surely she’d understand. Building a career takes time and energy. Some people go to college. I lug equipment across the eastern seaboard, performing for larger and larger crowds, trying to perfect our brand.

  It’s a breakneck pace, one that takes its toll on some of the members of the group. Yael wants to record a demo, and Bobby just wants more time to party. Only Felix and I seem to understand that we need to keep our heads down and do the job.

  By July, though, I’m exhausted. Tina surprises me with a trip to Portugal. I finally get to break in my first passport. We stroll along white sand and make love in the surf of our private beach. It’s perfectly blissful until I bring up recording a demo record.

  “I told you, you’re not ready.”

  I heave an exasperated sigh. “You keep saying that, but I’ve busted my ass for seven months straight. I don’t really know how much harder I have to work to be ready.”

  She runs her finger down my abdomen, which now sports a natural tan. “Anyone ever tell you that your worst quality is a lack of patience?” She cuddles next to me. “We’re here to relax. We can think about all of that on the plane ride home.”

  Only we don’t talk about it. She takes some anti-anxiety pills and sleeps most of the way.

  July fades into August. Our work load has lessened because we’re staying primarily in New York, Connecticut, Philadelphia and New Jersey. Despite our growing success, I notice that our venues stay pretty much the same. Same crowd. Same spots on the roster. Same pay.

  And I’m not the only one who notices it. All the guys are vocal about how we’ve stagnated. When I bring it up to Tina, she just blows it off. “You’ll get there,” she promises again and again.

  But by September, we all notice that there’s a new musical act inching its way up the leaderboard at Sedução, with a super hot Latino singing lead. The very day they get to headline, which Dreaming in Blue has never done, I break every speed limit to get back to the penthouse to confront Tina about it.

  Instead I find her fucking said super hot Latino in our bed.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream at her before I lunge at the young man who couldn’t be more than twenty-one. He puts up a fight and we exchange blows, which bloodies both of our faces and blackens both of our eyes.

  “Maybe I should just go back to my brownstone,” I say. I’m going to force her to make a choice like she forced me one to make one once upon a time.

  “Maybe you should,” she tells me as she covers herself with an expensive silk robe. “It’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that might be where you belong.”

  It’s the only time in my life I’ve ever wanted to hit a woman. I spent all this time as her pampered plaything, on the line, waiting for her to fulfill her promises that she never had any intention to fulfill.

  I had jumped through all her hoops and did all her bidding, but in the end I realized the ball had never left her court at all. And now she was ready to take it and go home, leaving me as high and dry as the first time I had walked into her club.

  Instead I take my anger out on her perfectly regal bedroom, slamming her vanity chair into the mirror and using the broken legs to smash anything that sparkles like it’s worth something.

  The last time I leave her penthouse, I’m escorted out.

  And that fight isn’t the worst one I have that week. We may not be fuck buddies anymore, but we are in business together. When I ask her what our future is at the club, she says that there are no hard feelings. However our gigs dry up at Sedução when she wants her new Latin boy toy and his band to get top billing and I flat out refuse to play before him. “It’s just business,” she says over and over again, but all I can think about is how she looked on top of that motherfucker. That I’m wasted on nonstop expensive champagne doesn’t help. I sign the death warrant to our best venue when I slur, “Why do the whores always like it on top?”

  Because I’ve cost us our most lucrative venue, I end up clashing with the band over how tightly Tina held the reigns on our career. “Admit it. You were fucking whipped, dude,” Bobby says.

  “What the fuck do you know about it?” I yell back. “You can’t get a girl to fuck you if she’s old enough to know better. Fuck off.”

  He lunges at me, taking a swing. “You followed your dick and painted us all in a corner!”

  I swing back. “At least you’re not in jail!”

  Felix and Yael finally break us up and separate us, but the damage is done.

  Bobby Rocco officially quits Dreaming in Blue on September 28. We suspend any future shows until we find a replacement.

  As it turns out, that is easier said than done. We hold auditions for two weeks solid but none of the guys feels like the right fit to me. Now that I have the band whittled down to Yael and Felix, I want someone who matches our sensibilities and has our same kind of drive. We essentially have to start over, and I want someone committed to the cause.

  In mid-October, a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a British accent arrives at the loft, with a cute blonde in tow. “The name’s Iain Wallis,” he says. “This is my girlfriend, Alana.”

  I study him thoroughly. I love his look, which will fit right in with ours. He’s got long hair. He’s skinny but handsome. Best of all he’s not some road hound ready to blow all his cash on groupies and booze. He’s older than Bobby, certainly more settled with a steady girlfriend who seems to adore him. Best of all he’s been in bands before, mostly in England. When he shows us he can adapt to any style of music we play, Yael, Felix and I know we’ve found another musical brother.

  He’s an official member of the band by the beginning of November, though there’s not much we can promise him at this point. We have no gigs for the foreseeable future. While we were fighting to keep our band together so we could perform, every venue we had come to rely on had dried up. They simply weren’t interested. Dreaming in Blue belonged to Tina Nunes, and no one wanted to touch us with a ten-foot pole.

  I suck up every last iota of pride and head back to Sedução. Maybe now that Tina can see we’ve replaced our weak link, she’ll give us another chance. My nest egg, which I got used to spending freely during my days as a free-wheeling gigolo, is depleting by the day. I know I have to do something fast or else I’ll have to put this dream to rest once and for all.

  I’m intercepted by Sasha, who tells me that Tina won’t see me. “You never should have called her a whore,” she says.

  “She never should have fucked around,” I respond.

  “Come on, Vanni. It’s not like you both were exclusive. You weren’t even in love.”

  I lean across the bar. “There’s no room for love in rock and roll.”

  She sighs. “You can make it without her, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Really?” I challenge. “Because without her we’re playing crap gigs where nobody gives a shit if we’re in tune or not. She’s ruined me.”

  “She didn’t ruin you, Vanni. You ruined yourself. You believed the lie because you wanted to. She was never going to give you a headlining gig. She was using you every bit as much as you were using her. And you’re smart enough that I know that you know that.”

  I look away. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who will believe in you in this business? Who will stick their neck out? Who will sacrifice something of themselves to help you out?”

  She laughs. “Oh, honey. You really don’t think she was being altruistic, do you?” She sighs and then grabs a ledger from under the bar. She opens it to show the kind of income Sedução enjoys, just on the cover charges alone. “You ever wonder why she sent you out of town? She was farming you out to her friends and keeping you far away from the competition. She had to keep you isolated and sheltered, otherwise you’ll figure out what
kind of stupid game she’s playing. She could have found you a studio and recorded your first demo record if she wanted. You guys had a real audience here. If she was really looking after you, if she truly believed in you, why didn’t she give you a percentage of what they take in at the door like all her other mid-range acts? She offered you a flat rate, and a cheap one at that.” She shakes her head as she clicks her tongue. “Everyone wants that guaranteed money, though. That might have been okay when you started, but you’ve never failed to pack this place in all the time you’ve played here. This is the kind of stuff you need to be negotiating, Vanni. Do you know how many gigs you can get if you just offer a split? And you can bring the audiences in now. All you have to do is beef up your Internet presence, so people know where you’re playing when you’re playing. The fans you’ve already made will find you. The person you need to have confidence in isn’t Tina, Vanni. It’s you.”

  I noticed she hasn’t called me Joe once. Somehow it makes what she’s saying more important. “So what do I do?”

  She leans forward. “I’m talking to the nice guy that’s still left under all this polish and sheen and bullshit. You know the one, who played with my kids and watched football with my dad, who stood up for me against my asshole ex. He’s still in there and I believe in him even if you don’t. If you ever want to be that guy again, you’ll turn around and march out of here and never look back. There are people who will eat you alive in this business, and Tina’s at the top of that list. She can’t help you. She won’t help you. All she’ll do is turn you into a soul-sucking user like she is. You’re better than that. That’s why you have to go, and you totally can. In the end you call the shots for your own career and that’s all.”

  I’m scared as shit to do exactly what she says to do. It may not have been perfect, but Sedução was a helluva lot more money and exposure than we had before, even if it did keep us chained like dogs to Tina’s leash. Sure it may have been skewed to her advantage, but that’s how you run business, right? You have to look out for yourself.

  And that’s what I do as I leave Sedução for the last time.

  I don’t know where I’m going from here. It’s more uncertain than it’s ever been. I find my way to Fritz’s without even trying to.

  I see her face the minute I open the door. Despite how much I tried to bury them, all the old feelings rush back. I know it’s the same for her the minute our eyes meet. She’s panicked to see me because she still gives a damn.

  And I so need someone to just give a damn.

  “We’re not open yet,” she says.

  “I’m not a customer,” I reply. “I want to book Fritz’s for another performance.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Vanni. I can’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you why.”

  I slam the wood flap onto the counter as I walk behind the bar. “Yeah, I know what you told me,” I say as I back her into the bar, with an arm on either side of her. “But this isn’t about you and me. It’s about my fucking life, Pam.”

  The words barely eke out of my throat. The longer I stare at her, the more emotional I get. Any fear that she might have had evaporated the second she saw the tears in my eyes. She takes me into her arms without question.

  “What’s wrong?” she murmurs into my ear.

  I clasp her tight. So soft, so warm, surrounding me everywhere in a jasmine-scented cloud. She feels like love. “Everything,” I manage.

  I feel like a fool, but I know Pam doesn’t judge. Of all the people in my life, Pam and Sasha don’t judge.

  They’re also completely off limits as a married lady and a single mom. Finding anything meaningful in a personal relationship seems as impossible as breaking in.

  So many missed opportunities… so many stupid mistakes. For the first time in a long time, I wonder what the hell it’s all for. It was this kind of hopelessness that drove me to chase after street gangs in Philadelphia, before my Mama decided to risk it all and come to Brooklyn.

  Now there’s nowhere to go.

  “Come on,” she says as she leads me from behind the bar and towards the back, where her office is located. She shuts the door behind us and I flop down on top of her big wooden desk. “I could use a drink,” I mutter, suddenly embarrassed by my emotional outburst.

  “You’ve had enough,” she tells me as she sits next to me.

  “Sometimes I think there will never be enough,” I confess. It’s one of my dirty little secrets. Whenever things get tough, I reach for the bottle. I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen years old, even though I know that was what drove my dad away.

  Maybe I’m destined to be just like him. Drunk and alone.

  “You were right to marry whatshisname,” I tell her.

  “That’s the booze talking. Let me get you some coffee,” she offers as she steps away from the desk. I pull her back by the wrist. Our eyes meet and all those old feelings spark to life.

  “I don’t want coffee,” I say in a soft voice.

  Her breath quickens as she realizes her error. She’s stuck with me, three sheets to the wind, in her locked office. There’s nothing now to stop us but her willpower.

  “Vanni,” she murmurs, and it just sets my nerve endings on fire. I’ve dreamed about that sweet voice saying my name.

  “I know,” I say as I pull her closer. “I should go.”

  She gulps as her body makes contact with my massive chest. She feels small and dainty in comparison. She’s so flustered she can’t even speak. My hand snakes up to caress her face. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Since the first time I held you in my arms and felt you swoon against me. Like now,” I add in a whisper.

  My mouth nearly lands upon hers when she utters the only two words that can stop me. “I’m pregnant,” she says softly.

  I stare, unblinking, into her face for a long moment. I want to ask so many questions. When? How? Why?

  But I already know why. She’s a good girl. A sweet girl. And she needs a normal love that I know in my gut I’m not capable to provide. Doug provided that for her. A decent guy. An ordinary guy.

  A guy I can never, ever be.

  I hold her so long that she shudders against me. “Please,” she tries again. She’s holding onto her honor with a death grip. “Let me go.”

  I run a thumb across her bottom lip, so full and ripe and ready to be kissed. And God knows I would kiss her, had she not crushed my heart with her words. There was no way that I would ever stand between a child and its family. Ever. Even for Pam, the first woman I ever came close to loving. And she knows it too, which is why she said what she said, when she did.

  There’s only one thing left to do.

  “Not yet,” I finally say, holding on as long as I possibly can. “I’m not done telling you my story.”

  I can feel her tremble. I tremble in return. I know she can feel it too.

  “I sang for you that day. Remember?” She gulps hard again before she nods. “I had just written my first song, and you were the only one who believed I had what it takes to make it. Do you still believe it?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Of course.”

  My throat aches as I say, “I’m going to miss that.”

  My heart thunders against my chest. I have one last song to sing. I dig back into the 1970s for a bittersweet ballad from the Manhattans, about two lovers who want one final kiss before they say goodbye. It was one of my Mama’s favorite songs. I could only imagine why. Pam’s eyes are locked with mine as I deliver probably the most heart-felt performance of my life. My hands slide over her body, over her shoulders and down her side, over the sweet swell of her hip. I stand, and we start to sway to the song. Her eyes flutter shut as she sways against me. Her arms slide around my waist and she lays her head on my shoulder.

  When I finish the song, she lifts her head to face me. Slowly my mouth descends on hers, covering her parted lips softly. I feel he
r swoon against me I deepen the kiss without apology. If it’s going to be our last, it’s going to count.

  My heart swells as she kisses me back.

  One hand tangles in her hair as I clutch her tight. Her full breasts press into my chest, and it’s all I can do not to cup them in my hands. My palms ache to caress them. Likewise her nails dig into my shoulders as she holds on for dear life.

  When I finally drag my mouth away, we’re both dazed. It would be so easy to swipe all that crap from her desk and take her right there in her office. Dear God, it’s all I want to do. My holy grail… my sweet Pam. I could lift that skirt and plunge inside of her, taking what I’ve wanted for all these long, lonely months.

  But it’s not just Pam anymore. It’s Pam and her baby, her nice, normal baby, one that ties her forever to a man named Doug, in a life so foreign from mine now that it’s like a moon orbiting a distant planet. Her body isn’t mine to take. Her love isn’t mine to steal. And if I ever cared about her, even a little, I know it’s best for everyone if I just let her go.

  So I lift her left hand up to inspect that plain gold band that rests on her third finger. The New Vanni didn’t give a shit about that ring. We were here first. We have a right to take what we want, because she wants it too. I know she does. I can feel it in her body. I could taste it in her kiss. I can see it in that cloudy look in her beautiful eyes.

  I lean forward and leave a long, lingering kiss on her hand. I’m a selfish, entitled shit, but I’m not a bastard. I’m not going to hurt her and I’m not going to let her hurt herself either.

  I’ve got to make some changes if I ever want to get control of my life back–control of me back.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper against her hand.