Back-Up (4 page)

“Oh, um, y
es. I am absolutely interested!” Going from one extreme to the next, I am now practically screaming into the phone. He chuckles again, and it is almost like I could actually feel his breath in my ear. The quiver becomes a clenching.

So now I am apparently clenching from the sound of his voice too
? 

“Can you come to the studio at eleven am on Monday?” he asks.

“Yes. No problem.”

“Great…and Leila? Try not to break any limbs before you get there.”

I blush into the phone and squeeze out in a tiny voice, “I’ll try.” 

He chuckles and hangs up leaving me with a vivid fantasy...sheets, legs, arms, all tangled together, and Jack chuckling into my ear. Unable to move, I sit in my car for a full twenty minutes. It’s a good thing I got this job, because I may lose my current one for being twenty minutes late.

Devils Lair…damn!  Thank you universe! 

Since I’m already
late, I might as well call my dad.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be on stage?
” No hello, no greeting, this is so typical of dad.

“Hey, dad. Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you
that they called me back.”  There is a two second delay. Most wouldn’t even notice it, but I do.

“That’s great Lei. I’m so happy for you.” 

But
?

I was waiting for the
but
and say as much over the phone.

“No but.
I truly am happy for you. I just worry about you, you know that.”

“I know dad. I have to go. I just wanted to let you know.” We decide
to talk more at Sunday brunch. That’s when and where I would hear the “But” I was sure.

Devils’ Lair…this is crazy!

Chapter 2-Jack

These past few weeks have been fucking crazy. The band is most definitely on its way. As this has been my one and only goal for most of my life, I couldn’t be more prepared.  I was destined for this and I risked a lot for it. My name is Jackson Henry Lair and I’m the lead singer of Devil’s Lair.

I knew
I was meant to be a rock star, even if my parents weren’t on the same page as me. They knew that I had a great voice, I liked to write songs and constantly hung out in the city to watch bands play, but they thought it was only a hobby.

Denial maybe?

They didn’t listen when I complained about school all the time. I was in the Pre-law program at NYU and hated every minute of it. Many find it hard to believe that I do have an intelligent brain in my head. My parents feel I am totally wasting it. Dad was grooming me to follow in his footsteps to be a lawyer.

I just couldn’t do it.

Even though it terrified me, I had to tell my parents that I was dropping out. I couldn’t keep pretending that a law career was going to be my future. I had visions of living on the streets while homeless and penniless and without either of them speaking to me. Of course, that was just my vivid imagination running wild. I wasn’t raised to think that way. But I was about to drop a bomb on them of catastrophic magnitude. Although, my parents have been nothing but loving and caring to my sister and me, my scenario isn’t that farfetched.

M
y dad is Peter Henry Lair, Esq. of business law. It’s super boring, but that’s dad. He is very even keeled, level headed, sensible, and smart. 

I
may be taller than he is, but otherwise we look a lot alike. We have the same dark brown hair - had, rather, as his is now grey at the temples, same deep grey eye color and smile, dimples included. Otherwise, that’s it. I am not even keeled, level headed, or sensible.

My personality is definitely more like my moms, or Renata Cornwell Lair, homemaker and ex-beauty queen. Mom was, and still is
, simply stunning.  She is tall and slim and has long blonde hair and green eyes.  In her early fifties, she could pass as someone twenty years younger. Growing up, it was a bit embarrassing having a hot mom. I remember her getting looks from men wherever we went. Little league, school functions, the friggin’ supermarket…it didn’t matter where she went. Parent-teacher conferences were always interesting. The same hard-ass, male teachers that would bust my balls on a daily basis would suddenly become babbling idiots after meeting my mom. My female teachers had the same reaction to dad. He can be quite a charmer. Sometimes that worked to my advantage.

Mom is passionate, impulsive
, and headstrong and has a great sense of humor. I’ve heard stories of her and her wild past. My parents met in college where they fell madly in love and got married a year later. They were complete opposites when they met and have slowly morphed into one personality type, each equally changing in subtle ways like two chameleons. Where my mom became more practical and prudent, my dad went from bookworm to party animal. Well not
really
a party animal, but mom said he has most definitely “loosened up” over the thirty-one years that they have been together.

Thirty-one years…that’s a very long time to be with one person. I don’t think I believe in soul mates, but watching my parents is a constant contradiction to my beliefs. They feel
that they were meant to be together and fate played a huge role. The whole thing baffles me… love, eternity, forever after?  Is there really one person out there you are meant to be with? Or is it all random luck?

Together my parents have built a loving, safe, upper middle class life for us. We had a pretty normal childhood
that included a center hall colonial, pool in the back, and a golden retriever. All of it was quite boring.  My career choice doesn’t fit into the
boring, suburban, cookie-cutter world
we grew up in.

I have a younger sister, Eliz
abeth Ann Lair, or Lizzy. Lizzy and Mom look like sisters, except Lizzy’s hair is not blonde but light brown in color. They also act like sisters and get along very well. Like mom, Lizzy is aware of her beauty, but doesn’t use it to her benefit.

Beauty means nothing to my mom. Mom didn’t encourage Lizzy to model and to fall victim to such a cold, hurtful industry. Like they did for me, my parents insisted
that Lizzy go to college and get her degree. Lizzy obeyed without objection. The difference between my sister and I was that she was on the same page as my parents.

Lizzy graduated from Columbia University with a Masters in Psychiatry. S
he is now working towards her PhD. My sister is the perfect trifecta. She is attractive, intelligent and has a heart of pure gold. The man who wins her heart had better be something special, or he’ll have to deal with my temper and me.

Having a psychiatrist in the family will most definitely help with my many issues. As a teen I was like a bull in a china shop doped up on Viagra. My temper has calmed down quite a bit since then
, yet my libido - not so much. I’ve been a walking hard-on since I was twelve. For some stupid reason I ended up having a girlfriend in high school for almost two years. Her name was Jessa Perez. In hindsight, that was fucking dumb. Don’t get me wrong, she was gorgeous, and we had a really good time, until we fought that is. My temper pales in comparison to hers.

Jessa and I were very immature and needed to grow up. We
argued, made up, and then argued again. For two straight years, that was our relationship in a nutshell. At the time I thought we were in love.

I was so wrong.

In all fairness, I do suck at relationships. I am a serial flirt. That doesn’t seem to bode well when you have a girlfriend. So her retaliation was to cheat on me. Well, she denied the rumors that she cheated on me. I didn’t have proof, and my gut didn’t believe her. I finally got tired of all the fighting and rumors and so I ended it right after graduation.

Jessa didn’t have a problem replacing me when I dumped her. With her long black hair,
chocolate brown eyes and her killer body, she is a complete knockout. She’s dangerous too. She can persuade the pope to run naked through the streets of Rome.

I was determined to get over her. Once at NYU, the girls were the only thing that helped me get through. They were everywhere, and they made the hell I was in more bearable. I more than made up for those two years with Jessa. I guess I was trying to sow all the wild oats I missed in junior and senior year…and I still am.

I have not committed to a relationship since high school, and I don’t see myself doing so any time soon. I just can’t deal with the drama that comes with it. Being with Jessa was nothing but drama that was wrapped in a hot sex burrito.

Dumping
her didn’t stop her from wanting to get back together with me. There was no way I was doing that. She claimed she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and only missed our sex life. She had a point. That was the only part we were good at. I caved a few times…twice to be exact. Our reunions have always been the same. There was hot sex, arguing, me screaming at her, her throwing something at me, and then me walking out. Not much had changed since we were together in high school. No one can push my buttons like Jessa can.

The last time we got together was a few days ago. We “ran” into each other at a club and ended up in her bed
because I was drunk and horny. I’m not proud of the fact that I tend to think with my cock more than I should. By the end of the night, she had changed her story about only wanting sex. I barely remember what she was ranting about. Something about me being a bastard and needing to grow up. She is convinced we belong together, and after listening to her go on and on, I had a sick feeling that running into her wasn’t an accident. She’s delusional and a bit unstable.

That night was a huge mistake
. To say that I regret it is an understatement. Hunter had to pick me up because I was so wasted. He told me to stay away from her. Actually he threw a fit and treated me like a child the entire drive home. Trey told me to get the fuck over it. His exact words were, “Shut the fuck up.  So you had to fuck a complete knock-out, poor you.”

Dick-
head.

Hunter gets it.
Trey doesn’t get it.

It was a stupid move. Especially since I don’t need Jessa to fuck a
knockout. I am not lacking in that department. Short of obtaining a restraining order, I’ve done everything I could to cut her out of my life. Like a bad penny, she keeps showing up.

I should have listened to Hunter. Hunter Amatto is our drummer and my best friend. He plays the role of band manager, and keeps our asses in line. About eight years ago, we met at a bar in the city while listening to a band and hit it off immediately. I spilled my guts about wanting to ditch my law career and start a rock band. It took exactly five minutes that night for Hunter to jump into my plan and run with it.

I owe him a lot. He got me through my intimate relationship with tequila after I told my parents that I was dropping out. I thank god that Hunter had the guts to dive head first into my plan, because his push lit a fire under my ass that has gotten us where we are today. He’s been an awesome friend and an even better “manager”.  He even came up with the band’s name. It was a lucky day when I met Hunter.

So, for the record I am a firm believer of LUCK. I’m not trying to dow
nplay how good we are as a band, but luck definitely had a part to play in our success.

Hunter’s roommate moved out soon after I dropped my nuclear bomb on my parents.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, and I moved in. My mom was not happy with me, but I needed to get out of Long Island and away from them. Seeing my dad come home every day from his office was a constant reminder of what I was supposed to be doing and how I disappointed them.

It felt cathartic to move from suburbia to Brooklyn. I love where we live. We are in the Dumbo section, and it is one of the trendiest neighborhoods in the city. Our rent is hefty, but still a fraction of what an apartment of the same size would cost in Manhattan.

Our apartment is nothing special. We have a decent sized living room with a TV that’s way too big, but boys
will
be boys. Our kitchen is small and a half bath sits off the main hall. Our tiny bedrooms each have their own bathroom. That’s the entire apartment.

The best part is the roof. We are on the top floor of a six-floor building, and we have access to the roof.  For some reason none of the other tenants ever go up there. We threw around some plastic tables and chairs. We invested in a cheap plastic couch. We put up some Christmas lights. We carry up our portable speakers. Voila’… instant hang out. It’s a great quiet place where we can chill out, or more spec
ifically where I can
entertain
.  Hunter doesn’t
entertain
as frequently as I do, so it’s a perfect hangout for me. I fucking love it up there.

It’s not like Hunter never has any girls over. I guess
he is handsome by most women’s standards. He is tall with spiky hair, a few piercings, and one on his lip. I don’t get the attraction to piercings, or why chicks love them so much. His killer smile and blue eyes makes him a hot commodity, but he is shy as shit. It’s weird how he’s cocky and confident in every other aspect of his, other than trying to pick up a chick. He waits for them to make the first move. What a waste of time.

We
put an ad in the Village Voice and advertised for a guitarist and bassist. We found our guitarist first. Scott Malone is a nice Irish boy who is also from Long Island. Hunter and I were a little skeptical when we found him. He just looked too nice. Does he look like a rock star? Not so much. He has a clean-cut look that is more suitable for a cereal commercial. But damn, his talent blew us away. After hearing him play guitar, we hired him immediately.

Scott
has a girlfriend named Patti Wells. Actually they are practically married.  She is a petite, blond who’s cute but somewhat annoying and a little too enthusiastic for my tastes. Hey, I’m not the one screwing her. It just seems Scott can never get a word in edgewise with her.

Finding our bass guitarist was quite an ordeal. Initially we hired a g
uy who I grew up with and who I’d rather not name. He was crazy years ago, which should have been a red flag to me. Don’t get me wrong - we all like to think of ourselves as bad boy rockers, with the exception of Scott - but this guy took it to another level. That fucker almost got us arrested one night, and I really don’t want to be some dude’s bitch. We fired “him” and luckily we found Trey.

Trey was born and raised in New York City and had just recently m
oved back from California. We knew we had found our guy when we saw him playing at a bar in SoHo. He looked the part perfectly.  Quite simply, Trey is dark. Tattoos everywhere, chin length black hair, black clothing, black shades, and black guitar. He is the opposite of Scott, which is good because we need him to level out the “Opie looking” field.

Trey not only looks the part, he is one awesome bassist. If we hadn’t found him, someone else would have any second. He rarely cracks a smile. If he does he gets quite the reaction from our girl fans.

Yes, we all have fans. Our fans uploaded our performances on the Internet and now we get recognized even more than ever. It’s freaky when we it happens, it shocks the shit out of us.