Ace's Wild (2 page)

    When I get back to the house Nate is yelling obscenities at the football game that’s on TV. By his tone I’m assuming his team is losing. At commercial he notices I’ve walked in and pauses the game to talk.

    I begin pacing the living room and start to tell him what happened. It’s hard not to get pissed off all over again but somehow I manage to stay relatively calm.

    “Dude, look at it this way, it’s a fresh start. From everything. You were the face of the band, the fans will follow you. Especially when the media gets ahold of what the guys did to you.”

    I stop pacing and take a seat on the couch across from Nate. I rest my elbows on my knees and bring my hands up to rub my face in frustration. “It’s not just about the music, man. They just stabbed me in the back for money. How the fuck am I supposed to react?” I try to keep my voice calm, but it’s bordering a yell at the end.

    Nate begins telling me how it’s better this way, and I’ll be able to branch out on my own and be the musician I’ve been craving to be.

    And he’s right. The last few years I’d been trying to experiment with different sounds and the label had no interest in hearing it. They wanted what they signed. They wanted what they knew would sell money- rock music with a hint of pop. I started off being passionate about it, but the record label kept shooting down every new idea I had. I wanted passion in my music, I wanted reality to be laced in every note. Whether it was pain or happiness, I wanted my music to speak for me. But that “wouldn’t sell” so I began to not care how the music sounded. I would put out what they paid me to put out and that made me miserable. I’m not going to blame the label for my drug addiction, that was my fault, but they didn’t help it either.

    I should have seen this coming, but I had been so focused on my recovery that I never stopped to think about what the label would do. They made it sound like they’d support me through it all but I should have known they’d dump me the first chance they got.

    “I have this friend who works at a little recording studio in town. It has all the equipment you’d need, and it’s super low key so the media shouldn’t be anywhere in sight. I say you record a few tracks. Start recording your own album and show those bastards what they just lost. I can call her up and see when there’s an opening.”

    Once again he’s right. It’s time to show this world what Ace Caplin is made of.

Chapter 2

Melody

    I push my legs as hard as my body will allow. I need to go fast to clear my mind. With every stride one more worry falls from my mind. But not enough.

    I run harder.

    Running has been the only outlet I’ve had to cope with life’s many curveballs. The most recent being my dad’s new wife. When I found out he was getting married I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone. I still haven’t, with the exception of my little brother, but that’s more to see how he’s coping.

    My mom even tried to get me to attend my dad’s wedding. That says a lot, considering the hell he dragged her through, but I haven’t been able to find it in myself to forgive him.

    I continue running down the paved trail and think about running up the steep dirt path to the right but I change my mind at the last minute. I’m in need of a water break so I run to the bench and take a seat.

    I twist the cap off my water and drink a few mouthfuls between gasps. My breathing and heartbeat start to settle after a few moments. I stand from the bench to stretch my limbs and then continue my run when all of a sudden I hear the faint sounds of the strum of a guitar. The song is haunting and heartbreakingly sad. When I hear the voice begin to sing I’m completely mesmerized by what I’m hearing. I wish I could figure out where the music is coming from. His voice sounds so familiar for some reason, but I just can’t place it. There’s a deep rasp to it and a richness that fills my body with warmth.

    I plop back down onto the bench undeniably glued to my seat. I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to. This man’s voice has such a deep sad quality to it but it’s also lined with anger. I can’t exactly make out the lyrics but I don’t have to when I know his tone all too well.

    Pain. Betrayal. Heartache.

    I haven’t paid attention to the length of time I’ve been sitting here. A few people have walked by nodding a hello, but I barely manage to acknowledge them. How are they able to walk by without even a side glance? His voice paralyzes me.

    I wonder if I’m hearing things. Maybe the stress has finally caught up to me, and I’m beginning to hear things. That can’t be it, there’s no way I could dream up that voice.

    A little while later the music stops, and I’m released from his spell. I’m not sure how much time has lapsed. Minutes? Maybe hours? I don’t know. I start the walk back to my car and on the way I receive a text from my mom.

Hey sweetie! Can you pick up your brother from practice?

I quickly type my reply.

Of course! On my way now.

    I hop in my car and sit for a moment to gather myself. It’s like I was part of some spiritual exploration, I feel cleansed even. All from this mystery man’s voice.

    How can that be? I’ve never been affected this way by anyone.

    I never felt a spiritual connection like this, even in past relationships. A part of me has awoken and wants more.

    I make my way to the soccer field where Lucas is practicing. As I pull up I can see Luke sticking out of the group of kids. He’s not difficult to miss as he’s the tallest skinniest ten-year-old out of the bunch. On top of that he has blond, almost white, hair and pale skin, different from my chestnut hair and tanned skin. Our blue eyes are the same though.

He spots me and starts to run over.

    “Mel! You shoulda seen me at practice today. Coach Scott says if I keep playing like that then he’ll let me off the bench, and I get to actually play in a game!” He excitedly jumps up and down.

    “That’s great Luke! I can’t wait to see you play!” I reply.

    The thing about my little brother is he’s a bookworm to the max. He’d much rather spend a day inside reading the adventures of his favorite wizard in training. He didn’t get anti-social until four years ago when our home life began to deteriorate. This past summer my mom got tired of him being a hermit, so to his dismay, she signed him up for soccer. The fact that he’s finally excited is a huge deal.

    “Wait ‘til mom hears about this, she’s going to be so happy,” I say as I scruff his hair then pull him in for a hug.

    He smirks. “I hope so”

    We wave goodbye to Coach Scott and then walk to my 1997 2-door Honda Civic. It has definitely seen better days, but she’s my baby and I love her.

    Luke throws his gear in the back and begins clicking through the radio stations since my CD player is broken. He stops on the rock station and “In my bed” by Spades is playing. He pokes the button to turn it up and starts singing.

   
Oh girl come to me, get a little bit hot for me. Get a little bit taut for me.

     I’m shocked that he knows the words not only because they are highly inappropriate but because he’s ten. Shouldn’t he still be listening to Barney or something?

    “What are you doing?” I ask over the music in surprise.

    “I’m singing” he says slowly as if trying to explain this to a small child.

    I turn down the music. “You shouldn’t be listening to that kind of crap.”

    “Come on Mel, aren’t you supposed to be my cool older sister? I already know the song, it’s not like you forced me to listen to it.”

    “Oh you really had to pull the ‘cool’ card huh?” I sigh. “Fine but if you tell Mom about this I’m going to kill you.”

    With a smile he turns the volume back up and continues singing until the song ends.

“We’re back! That was rock band Spades with ‘In My Bed’. Rumor has it, folks, that they kicked out lead Singer Ace Caplin due to his past with drug addiction. In my opinion you can’t keep Spades going without the Ace of Spades himself. I want to know what you all think. Call, text, or email the show and let me know!”

   
“What?! No way! Ace was my favorite!” Luke angrily says.

    I’m shocked, I can’t believe a band would do something like that. How can you kick out the band’s founding member and still expect to sell albums?  I don’t get it.

    We get to the house and unload Luke’s gear into the garage. Already I can smell Mom’s amazing cooking, and I can’t wait to see what’s for dinner. She loves to cook, that’s one thing you will never hear me complaining about is my mother’s cooking. If there’s any complaining, it’s because she didn’t give me enough, never because it doesn’t taste good.

    We walk into the house and down the short hallway leading into the kitchen. Luke shouts a greeting to my mom and runs to his room to get cleaned and changed. My mother is standing over the oven, still in her work scrubs, stirring the delicious smelling concoction that’s cooking on the stove. I give her a kiss on the cheek and rest my head on her shoulder.

    “Hey Ma, what are you making?”

    “Chicken Parmesan,” she answers. I lift my head from her shoulder and walk to the opposite counter and hop up to take a seat. My mom looks over at me and rolls her eyes before she continues. “Thank you for picking up Luke. It was Ryan’s mom’s turn to take the kids to practice and pick them up but I guess Ryan got sick in the middle of practice and she had to take him home. How’d Luke do?”

    I smile. “I’ll let him tell you.”

    Right on cue the whirlwind that is Luke rushes into the kitchen and gives us a play by play of what happened at his practice while my mom finishes dinner and I set the table.

    This is the typical night for us since my dad left. Unless my mom is working extra hours, this has seemed to be happening more often lately. We’re happy though. My mom has found it in herself to forgive my dad. I obviously haven’t, but she says if I can’t forgive him then I can’t truly be happy in life. I told her I was plenty happy and ended the conversation there. But if she’s forgiven him after the hell he put her through then more power to her.

    After dinner I help clean up then I head to my room to study. I’m taking on a full load at UC Davis but I’m attempting to push through the best I can considering it’s my last year in college. I take out my psych book, sit at my desk, and begin studying. I barely get three pages in when I hear the all too familiar obnoxious laughter coming from the living room that I recognize as my best friend.

    My door swings open and the bombshell also known as Sara walks in. I mean, the girl is gorgeous. Legs for days, skinny with just the right amount of curves, pale skin, chocolate brown eyes, and red hair. When I say red hair I mean fire engine red hair. That will probably change soon, as she changes hair color weekly. I don’t swing that way at all, but if I did she’d be at the top of my “to do” list, if you know what I mean.

    “Hey skank, what are you doing?” she says as she bounces onto my bed.

I turn my chair toward her. “Studying for the test tomorrow. Are you ready for it?” I question, fully knowing what the answer will be.

    She jumps off the bed. “Oh, shit! That’s
tomorrow?! I’m so dead. I was planning on skipping class tomorrow for work, I have an appointment coming in at ten.”

    “Well, I don’t have that class ‘til four so I can cover for you until you’re done if you need me to. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

    I barely finish what I’m saying before she’s hugging me in excited relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you! You are the best! All you have to do is open up and turn everything on. A buddy of mine needed an appointment for his friend and is coming in at ten. I would reschedule him but we’re pretty booked and he wanted to get in ASAP.” She’s talking so quickly I almost didn’t catch everything she said.

    “No problem, what are friends for?” I say as I turn back to my textbook.

    “Speaking of friends, has Emma still been trying to get a hold of you?” she asks hesitantly.

    I slowly turn back to face Sara. “
Ex
-friend and, yes, she has. I can’t bring myself to answer. If I do I think I’ll just yell at her some more, maybe even threaten her life again. She deserves everything she gets,” I reply bitterly.

    Sara sighs. “I understand, believe me. The only reason why I talked to her was because she called when I was distracted, and I didn’t look at my caller ID.”

    “What’d she say?” I’m not sure I want to know but I ask anyways.

    She thinks on it for a minute before answering. “Well, you know her, always ‘why me?’, ‘I didn’t
do anything wrong.’, ‘I can’t help the way I feel’, and blah, blah, blah.” She rolls her eyes. “I hung up on her a minute into the phone call, seriously.” She laughs.

    This is one of those moments when I’m so glad that Sara is my friend. We’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been friends since we met in third grade after Sara beat up Max Fields because he called me a bitch. She said us girls have to stick up for each other. Ever since then we’ve pretty much been inseparable. Even when I moved after graduation with my mom, she moved up north with us and had actually lived with us for a year before moving into her own place.

    I get up to give her a hug. “You’re a great friend,” I say, but before her ego gets too big I smile and add, “But you need to shower, seriously you smell like a skunk that rolled around in cow shit.”

    She pushes me away and laughs. “Geez you’re such a bitch.”

    “But you totes love me,” I sing teasingly.

    “Unfortunately for me, yes, I do.” She throws a pillow at me before getting up. “I should go. I’m going to have to somehow manage to study when I’m only running on three hours of sleep.” She sighs.

    “Uh-oh is that
friend
of yours keeping you busy?” I ask wiggling my eyebrows suggestively. She’s been MIA a lot more lately, but she won’t spill the beans on this guy. I don’t know what she’s trying to hide.

She rolls her eyes. “Maybe. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

    Before she leaves, she hands me her work keys and fills me in on the opening routine. While walking to the door she repeats her thanks and gives me another hug before leaving.

    I go to sit back at my desk and glance at my phone and see I have a new text message from Emma.

You’re going to have to talk to me eventually Mel.

    I consider replying to her text message telling her exactly where she can shove it but I decide against it. I’ve said all that needs to be said. I’m done with her.

***

    I ended up only sleeping for two hours. I stayed up late studying, and once I laid down to sleep I couldn’t get my thoughts to slow down. Every toss and turn birthed a new thought.

   
Should I forgive my dad? Where do I even start? If my mom can forgive him surely I can, right? Why was the man in the park so sad? Who was he? Why did he sound so familiar?
Then those thoughts morphed into worries about my test and whether I studied enough.