By Degrees (8 page)

He snorts, and pulls his hand away.
 
“Bring me a couple shots of vodka.”

“No.”
 
I stare at him mildly, not trying to get him worked up, but letting him know I’m not his servant.
 
“We have a meeting to take care of before you start having anything to drink or smoke.”

He gives me a lazy smile and then sighs happily as he turns his head to look at the ceiling.
 
“Wake me up when you’re done with your meeting.
 
I need to go get laid.”
 
His smile remains as he begins to fake-sleep.

Mel glances at me, but I shake my head briefly, telling him to let me handle it.
 
He gets up and stands behind his chair, watching me nervously.

“Tarin, this meeting is between you and me, so I’d appreciate it if you could give me your attention.”

“I didn’t call any meeting.”
 
His eyes are still closed.

“I did.”

“And that might matter if I even knew who you are, which I don’t. You aren’t my agent, you aren’t in the band, and you aren’t from the label, so unless you’re here to put out, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Since he’s determined to be crude, I decide to skip the niceties and just go for the throat.
 
I have to snag his attention before he actually falls asleep.
 
“I work for the label and your agent, so I called this meeting, and I expect you to pay attention.
 
As of today, your life is going to change.
 
The game is over.
 
No more bullshit.
 
It’s done.”

He lounges there silently, not saying anything.
 
But his smile has slipped a little, so I know he’s hearing me.

“The drugs are gone.
 
The booze is gone.
 
Cigarettes are gone.
 
You’re on a new exercise regimen that starts this afternoon.
 
Consider yourself in active outpatient rehab.”

He opens his eyes and looks at Mel, scowling.
 
“Who is this crazy bitch and why’d you let her on your boat?
 
Is this some kind of joke?”

Mel shakes his head sadly.
 
“This is no joke, Tarin. This is the rest of your life.
 
I suggest you sit up and start acting like the man you really are and stop making this so difficult on yourself and everyone else.”

Tarin sits up quickly, his anger clear in his tone.
 
“Fuck that, Mel!
 
What the hell?
 
What’d I do to you anyway, other than make you a shit ton of money, huh?”

“It’s not about the money, Tarin.
 
It’s about you, as a person.
 
I’m worried about you.”

Tarin stands, the muscles in his chest pulsing through his t-shirt.
 
“Bullshit!
 
All any of you care about is the money.
 
Are you worried I won’t show up for the tour?
 
Is that it?
 
I told you I’d go, all right?!
 
I told you I just needed to let off a little steam first.
 
Jesus, why is everyone always up my fucking ass?”
 
He runs his fingers through his hair, knocking his sunglasses off.
 
They bounce off the couch and land on the floor.

Mel looks at me, disappointment shining out from sad eyes.
 
“I need to let you do this without me.
 
I’m liable to ruin everything with what I want to say right now.”

I shake my head, hardening myself to his distress.
 
“No. Tell him what you’re thinking.
 
He needs to hear it.”

“Oh, what … you’re going to blame me for some bullshit right now, is that it?
 
Well,
fuck you
, Mel, okay?
 
Fuck you.”
 
Tarin moves around the coffee table towards the door leading out to the back deck of the boat.

Zach appears in the entrance and shakes his head no.
 
Crossing his arms, he makes it clear he’s not going anywhere.
 
Tarin will have to pass through that mountain to get to his destination.

Tarin throws the sliding glass door open.
 
“Get the hell out of my way, Z.”

“Sorry, man.
 
Can’t do it.
 
Just give the girl a chance to talk to you.”

Tarin shoves him with both hands in the chest, but Zach barely moves.

“Get the fuck outta my way!” Tarin yells in his face, his entire body tense.

“Don’t touch me like that, man,” says Zach.
 
He sounds sad.

Tarin growls and turns around, rage in his eyes.
 
“Mel!
 
Tell that bitch to get off your boat or I’m outta here!”

Mel gestures out the windows to the deep blue ocean that surrounds us.
 
“Where are you going to go, Tarin?
 
We’re at sea.”
 
He pauses for the reality to sink in before continuing.
 
“Why don’t you just sit down here and listen to what she has to say?
 
You need to hear it, and when it’s over, it’s over.
 
Like a bandaid.
 
Rip it off. Get it over with.”

Mel walks closer to Tarin, holding out a hand in my direction.
 
“Go sit.
 
Relax.
 
I’ll be back in a little while.”

Tarin shifts to the side and watches Zach let Mel by.
 
As the door slides shut he turns his ire on me.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re going down for this.”
 
He pulls out his cell phone and presses some buttons.
 
“I’m calling my attorney.
 
He’ll file the lawsuit before we even get back.
 
Kidnapping and … fuck.
 
Other shit.
 
I don’t know what but it’s gonna put your sorry ass in jail.”

He puts the phone to his ear and then frowns.
 
Pulling the phone away, he stares at the screen.
 
“Fuck.
 
No signal.”
 
He points the phone at me.
 
“I’m calling when I get back.
 
You’re fucking going down.”

I walk back to my chair and sit.
 
“Come talk to me.
 
We’ll discuss the upcoming lawsuit later.”

He turns his back to me and stares out at the water.
 
“Tell them to let Jelly in and I’ll talk.”

“Jelly’s not here.”

“Yeah, I know.
 
She’s in the bedroom waiting for me. Bring her here and I’ll talk.”

“No, I mean she’s not on the boat. She’s still on the dock.”

He spins around and looks at me like I’m crazy.
 
“What?”

“She wasn’t invited.
 
She’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

He slowly shakes his head at me, biting his lower lip as he walks over. It’s impressive how he goes from flaming pissed to deviously angry. “You are something else, you know that?”
 
He walks around my chair until he’s in front of the couch.
 
Dropping down to sit on the edge of the cushions, he points a finger at me.
 
“I don’t know how you managed to brainwash Mel and Zach, but you’re not going to get away with that shit.
 
There’s laws against taking people against their will.”

I nod.
 
“Hopefully once you hear me out, you’ll decide not to sue.”

He leans back, lacing his hands behind his head and letting his legs drop to the sides.
 
I have a straight-on view of his crotch, and I’m glad his board shorts are so long that they cover up things that would normally be revealed in this kind of pose.
 
He pulses his pelvis up once, either to get comfortable or to make me nervous.
 
I suspect the latter when I see him give me a lascivious smirk right after.

I yank my attention back to why I’m here, hoping he doesn’t notice my ears going red.
 
“Thank you, Tarin.
 
Really, I appreciate you giving me a chance to explain.”

He says nothing.
 
He just stares me down, trying to intimidate me or too busy keeping a rein on his anger to respond, it’s hard to tell which.

“I’ve been hired by Mel and your label to help you get your life back under control.”

His nostrils flare but that’s the only sign I have that he’s heard me.
 
It’s like he’s attempting to stare holes into my face the way his gaze never falters and his expression stays so serious.
 
I wonder when I’m almost under his thrall like this why no one calls him Terror instead of Tear-it-up.
 
It seems a more appropriate nickname.
 
I’m not afraid of him; I’m more afraid of what he could make me do than anything.
 
I have a feeling he can be very convincing when he wants to be.
 
It’s probably what’s gotten him in all this trouble in the first place.
 
I can picture him being hard to say no to.

“I’ve worked with several other artists in the same situation you’re in right now.
 
Whether you realize it or not, you’ve lost your way.
 
I’ve talked to Ricky and Zach and Leonard along with your bandmates, and they all tell me the same things.”

Tarin shifts in his seat, but otherwise gives me no indication of what he’s thinking.

“You’re incredibly talented and a nice person.
 
You like to play practical jokes, you’ll give a friend the shirt off your back, you loan money you never expect to get back. You’re generous and fun loving and you used to be happy-go-lucky.”

As I shift gears, I can see it’s having an effect on him.
 
He drops his arms to his sides, still staring at me.
 
I continue.
 
“But now you’re angry a lot. You’re taking drugs that you know aren’t good for you or your music.
 
You’re hanging out with users, people who don’t care about you. You’re not healthy. You blew off your grandfather’s birthday last month, and you didn’t even visit Dave in the hospital after he overdosed.
 
And you were there when it happened.
 
You didn’t stop him when you could have.”

Tarin’s uncomfortable now, breaking his gaze away to look at the walls and floor.
 
His legs twitch, his knees going towards each other and apart, over and over.

“You’re using women who don’t know any better than to throw themselves at you, you’re treating the people who helped get you to where you are rudely and accusing them of using you … all of these things are symptoms of a bigger problem.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says, his voice not as loud now but just as emotional.
 
“What’s that, Miss Know-It-All?”

I shrug to ease the sting.
 
“Lost. You’re lost. You’re wandering around in a scary place and you don’t know how to find your way back.
 
That’s why I’m here.
 
Let me be your guide.”

He jerks his eyes back to me glares.
 
“Fuck you.
 
I’m happy.”

“Be honest.
 
You’re not happy.
 
You’re miserable.”

He frowns at me, frustrated.
 
“Who the hell are you to tell me I’m not happy, huh?
 
You don’t know me.
 
You don’t know me at all.”

“I knew a man like you.
 
Once.”

“What’d he do, dump you?”
 
He laughs at his own cruel joke.

I look down in my lap, gripping my hands tightly together in the hope it will keep me together too.
 
“No, he didn’t dump me,” I say softly.
 
My strength has abandoned me temporarily.
 
I lift my head, tears making my eyes bright.
 
I will them not to fall.

Tarin loses his smile.
 
“What happened?”
 
His voice is softer this time.
 
I catch a glimpse of the humanity inside him, the man his friends tell me he is when he’s not high and drowning in darkness.

“He was a brilliant musician.
 
The love of my life, actually.
 
But he got caught up in the fame-and-fortune part of the life and got lost.
 
I never got him back.”
 
And I never brought him back, either.

“What do you mean, you never got him back?”
 
He’s scoffing at my pain, trying to remain cruel and unconcerned, but I recognize it as a protective measure so I didn’t take offense.
 
I try not to let it hurt too much.

“Or maybe I don’t want to know,” he finishes.

“His name was Austin Betzer.”
 
I pause, waiting for the words to sink in.
 
“You tell
me
what happened.”
 
I want to hear him say it out loud. He won’t listen to me, but maybe there’s a chance he’ll at least listen to himself.

Tarin looks like he’s seen a ghost.
 
He whispers, “Fuck me,” as his entire body goes slack, the aggression draining out of him in an instant.

His reaction is stronger than I’d expected, but I don’t let that stop me.
 
“So now you know.
 
Now you know why I’m here.
 
You and I are going to work together and get your shit fixed, so you don’t end up in a body bag like my boyfriend did.
 
It’s time to pay the piper for all the mistakes you’ve made.
 
Time to man-up and turn your life around.”