Chasing Death Metal Dreams (36 page)

Carlos said, “Are you working at all?”

“Well, I had this band gig but, oh, yeah, they fuckin’ fired me too.”

“You showed up too wasted to play,” Carlos said thinly.

“I could have played. I play better wasted.”

“Bullshit.”

“You didn’t let me try, did you? Biggest concert of my life, and you took one look at me and said, ‘
You’re gone
’. You had them throw me out. They didn’t even let me pick up the fucking guitar till next day.”

“You’d have fallen over and smashed it.”

“Well, we’ll never know now. You know, we could totally have won that thing. If you’d stuck to the plan and not tried to compete like some lame-ass duet, we could have gotten the contract for KnifeSwitch instead of Serpentine
.
” He seemed to recognize Eli for the first time. “Great. You even brought him here. He’s the real enemy, Carly-girl. He’s gonna use your songs and screw you over.”

“Don’t call me that,” Carlos said between gritted teeth. Nate could see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

Eli said, “You want to know why we’re here? News flash. Do not pass Go. Do not collect ten thousand dollars.”

“Huh?” Foster stared at Eli, starting to look worried. He blustered, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Ten thousand dollars? The amount you were trying to get from me by blackmail?”

“You’re nuts. I never.”

Carlos said, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That the words to “Tongues and Ashes” were the old ones, exactly the same as when we first practiced it two years ago?”

“Well, maybe you stole it that way.” Foster blinked. “Whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right. You blew it. You know how? You didn’t cover your tracks. And you’re busted.”

“Get out,” Foster said, pointing to the door. “Right the fuck now.”

“You screwed up.” Carlos took a step nearer, and even though he was inches shorter, Foster took a quick step backward. “I had someone who knows computers look into it. They found proof that you put the lyrics into that blog just a few days ago.”

“Did not!”

“They found proof that you’re the one who emailed the extortion demand.”

“There’s nothing to find. I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

“They have the evidence. Everything I need to sue you for plagiarism and fraud and extortion.” Carlos’s face darkened with his anger, and he breathed faster.

Foster’s expression changed, a hint of fear crossing his face. “Come on, Carlos. All I want is a bit of cash. We were friends. I kept
all
your real secrets, made up a fake one for this. Now you’re going to make millions and I’m dumped here in the dirt. You
owe
me.”

Eli said, “He doesn’t owe you anything, you dirtbag!”

Foster snarled, “You stay out of it. You have no idea.”

“You’re blackmailing
me
. The hell I’m staying out of it.”

Foster turned back to Carlos. “Yeah, see, I didn’t hit you up for money, right? I went to him. He can pay me, and it’s nothing to do with you.”

Nate could almost feel the shudder that went through Carlos. “You said I stole my
song!
How is that nothing to do with me? You son of a
bitch!
I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Foster’s eyes glittered. “Oh yeah? Well if you don’t pay up, if
he
doesn’t pay and pay me good, I’ll fuck you over with all your fans.” He moved toward Carlos and reached out to poke him in the chest. “You think one song’s a problem? Wait until they see that all your lyrics are stolen from that blog. Wait till they find out what a fake you are. You’ll be sorry you messed with me.”

“You’re pathetic.” Carlos shoved his hand away. “I have proof of what you did.”

“Liar.”

“
Better With Grass
? I can prove Shawn Whats-his-face changed those posts a few days ago. Enough proof to take to the cops.”

“You wouldn’t go to the cops. Come on. It’s just a bit of cash. Five hundred. I’d even take five hundred.”

“You
douchebag!
”

“Did Shawn say something? He’s a total pothead. You can’t trust anything a guy like that says.”

“And that email with the threatening note? Emails can be traced, you know. Even so-called throwaway ones. If you don’t back off and stay gone, we will
nail
you! We’ll rip you apart!”

Nate didn’t dare touch Carlos. His quivering rage looked like it could be set off by a feather. Instead he moved forward, easing his shoulder in front of Carlos’s. “Look, how about we all drop the shit, okay? Foster, you lose. You set up a scam and you’re caught. Give it up, back off and get lost. And we won’t report you to the cops.”

Carlos grated out, “I want to bust him.”

Eli said, “Me too!” Nate wasn’t sure if Eli was playacting to scare Foster, but he was certain Carlos was serious.

He glanced back at Carlos. “Yeah. I know. But it’ll be messy and waste time you could use writing more songs for world domination.” He turned to glare at Foster. “Are we clear? Are we done? The web pages are coming down, and if you breathe a word of those lies anywhere, you’ll go to jail.”

“How about something that’s not lies?” Foster narrowed his eyes cunningly at Carlos. “What would you pay me not to tell your pretty boyfriend all about you,
girl
?”

Nate could hear Carlos’s teeth grate, and before he could speak, Nate jumped in fast and loud. “You think there’s
anything
I don’t know? For God’s sake, we’ve been fucking for weeks. I know him, he knows me, and we’re fine. Get over yourself.”

“I could tell the fans,” Foster muttered.

Nate was startled by Eli lunging past them to grab the front of Foster’s T-shirt. “Listen good. If any rumors start up, about the song or Carlos or anything, I’m going to assume you started them. Don’t care who it really was, I’m going to give the cops all the evidence we have. After I bust your face.”

“Let go of me!” Foster shoved ineffectually at Eli’s arm.

“You hear me?” Eli shook him like a dog toy. “Not one word about anything! If a rumor comes to you, you’d better do everything you can to squash it. Or you’ll be in jail with the real criminals taking turns at your ass.”

Foster wiggled free and backed up, panting. “Okay! Chill! All right, you win. Fuck, all I wanted was some money.” He looked at Carlos and there were actually tears in his eyes. “We were friends, once.”

Carlos glanced around the room. Nate followed his gaze, over the dirty, cluttered, pathetic squalor. There wasn’t one thing in that room worth more than five bucks. Nate wondered where Foster’s guitar was, and whether he’d sold it.

Carlos said unevenly, “Yeah, we were. But if I see you again, I’m gonna mess you up. Got it?” Nate turned to look at him. Carlos tugged his wallet out of his pocket, pulled out every bill in it, and dropped them on the floor. “There. All I have. No more.”

Foster blinked at him silently.

Carlos added, “You’re messed up, man. You were great once. You need to get straight. Ask your folks, find a program, something. Or you’re gonna end up dead.”

Foster said, “I’m fine. All I need is some cash to hold me till I get a gig. I’m doing fine.”

It was Eli who reached out slowly and put a hand on Carlos’s back, easing him toward the door. He said over his shoulder to Foster, “You heard us. We’re done. If you stay gone, I don’t care what the hell you do. Mess with any of us, and you’ll be inside a cell before you can turn around. Got it?”

Foster just stared after them, but as they went out he shouted at their backs. “All right! Okay! But I’m gonna be bigger than any of you, one day. You’ll be buying tickets to
my
fucking shows, you douchebags!”

Nate, bringing up the rear, slammed the door shut on his ranting.

They were silent all the way down the stairs, out of the building, and into the car. Carlos got in the back seat. Nate wanted to get in with him, but he also knew Carlos would probably rather be boiled in oil than admit he wanted his boyfriend to hold him, so he got in the passenger side instead.

Eli slid behind the wheel, but didn’t start the car. Instead he looked up in the rearview mirror. Nate figured he was meeting Carlos’s wild-eyed gaze. “Are you worried he’ll do what he said? Tell everyone you’re gay?”

“A bit. But I doubt people are going to pay much attention to him now. God!”

Nate nodded. “He looked like crap.”

Eli said, “Just so you know, we still want you. The band. Out as gay or not. I talked to the guys, and we all agreed. In fact, we want you to write more stuff with the cello in it, and maybe play them onstage with us.”

“You what?” Carlos’s eyes got wider.

“Yeah. It’s cool. We like the sound and it makes us stand out. You know, you look up on the stage and it’s, like, ‘
Oh, there’s a band. Guitar, guitar, guitar, drums,
’ or ‘
Guitar, guitar, keyboard, drums.
’ We think it would be cool if people look up at Serpentine and they’re, like, ‘
Guitar, guitar, guitar… fuckin’ cello?
’ The song you took the cello part out of sounds better with it in. We want the stage performance to be as good as the studio, right?”

“You’d seriously want me to tour with you?”

“Yeah. Write, record, tour.”

“This is because you feel guilty, right? Trying to make it up?”

“Hell, no. I wouldn’t change up my band out of guilt.” Eli gave him a charming smile. “It’s because you’re miles better than RoRo pulling out his fiddle.”

“Um.” Carlos bit his lip, his fingers clenched white on the back of Nate’s seat. Nate gave in to the temptation to reach over his shoulder and press those taut fingers with his own, trying to convey support. Carlos said in a very low voice, “You know, when Foster was calling me ‘
girl
’, he wasn’t implying some kind of femme fag thing. He was threatening to out me as trans. Transgender.”

Nate whipped his head around to stare at Eli, trying to bore holes into him with laser vision. If Eli screwed this up, he’d kill him.

Eli blinked a few times, then said evenly, “Wow. No one would ever guess. Well, if my dumb brother doesn’t care, I can’t imagine why it’s anyone else’s business. We’ll need your work hours to schedule practices for now, until we’re making real money and can quit the day jobs.”

Nate’s eyes filled, and he wanted to hug Eli. The dumb bastard could be okay, sometimes. He sat still, though, not even moving his hand on Carlos’s, just waiting. Slowly he felt the tense fingers under his relax. Carlos said, “I have a regular schedule. I’ll email it to you. But… seriously, we could be touring for like, three months, and then this— who I am— could suddenly come out.”

Eli shrugged. “Then we’ll deal. If anyone cares. We wouldn’t have any kind of shot without your songs. It’d be pretty evil to take your music and not you, for some dumb thing like that.”

Nate wasn’t sure that was quite the right phrase, but it worked, because Carlos sat back with a sigh, turning his hand to give Nate’s a squeeze before pulling away. “Well, maybe we can record some songs with cello parts? See how it works out?”

Eli started the car. “Yeah. But you’d better write some fuckin’ awesome songs, or we’ll dump you like a rotten potato.”

“Got it.”

Nate leaned sideways, watching Carlos without being too obvious about it. Carlos turned to look out the back window as they pulled away. When he spoke again, his tone was sad. “He really was awesome, once. I remember when we auditioned him, me and Mia. We’d tried out, like, a dozen others and they either played like a chimpanzee in boxing gloves, or they wanted to take over the band and sing lead. And then there he was, playing bass like he was born to it, and willing to hang back, take rhythm from Mia and follow my lead. I thought, ‘
This is it. This is my brother and sister in music, and we’re going to the top together.
’ God, I had dreams.
We
had.”

Eli said, “I guess sometimes you lose the old family, and find a new one.”

Nate winced, thinking how that would hit home for Carlos. But Carlos just turned to face forward, looking pensive, and then met his eyes. “Sometimes the new family is even better. You know, sometimes they’re the place you can grow and be yourself.”

Nate said softly, “Losing the old one hurts, though.”

“Yeah. I hope he gets help. I really do. But we’re through now.”

Eli said, “So, where to, Carlos? Your place?”

Carlos looked at Nate, and his eyes brightened. “Hey, if I came to yours and put in some hot, sweaty work on those new family bonds, could you drive me back in time for work?”

Eli put a hand over one ear. “Not hearing the TMI about my brother. La-la-la.”

Nate curled his lip wickedly and said, “A ride that far doesn’t come cheap. What are you offering?”

Eli said louder, “La-la-la-la.”

Carlos laughed, and the last shadows cleared from his eyes. “How about a month of Sundays. And Saturdays.”

“Throw in the occasional Tuesday night, and it’s a deal,” Nate said.

“Done.” Carlos stretched his arm forward between the seats, and instead of shaking it, Nate turned further, raised it to his lips, and nipped at a fingertip.

“La-la-la get a room,” Eli warbled.

“The faster we get home, the sooner we’re out of your hair,” Carlos offered.

“Ah, crap.” Eli stepped on the gas dramatically for a moment. “Another bossy brother. What the hell have we done?”

“Started a new family,” Nate said, hanging onto Carlos’s warm fingers despite the awkward angle. “Onward and upward, right?”

Eli and Carlos echoed, “Onward and upward,” together.

Eli snapped out, “Jinx!”

As they swung down the entrance ramp onto the highway, Nate finally let go of Carlos and turned properly in his seat. He leaned his head on the headrest, closed his eyes, and listened to his boyfriend and his brother arguing about just what kind of penalty a jinx involved. As long as it didn’t start going down the sexual favors route, he’d stay out of the discussion. For a while. He smiled and tapped his fingers on his knee to the tune on the radio. Twenty more minutes to home, and Carlos, and the future.

****

Epilogue