Holland’s lyricswere from deep inside him. His mother had been manipulative. He’d tried to get her diagnosed with Munchausen’s by Proxy, for all the times he and then his little sister wound up in the hospital after she would secret the cereal milk away and come back later. She’d nearly killed his sister at least twice.
I ampowerful alone
Try to steal me from me
With wicked words
With your heart hidden
I will break free
I will leave you behind
I won’t answerto you
I won’t bow to you
I am my own
Your words are empty
Your voice only wind
Your touch is death.
I had readall of that in an interview with him. He was always frank about the utter non-relationship he had with his mother. What I’d found out recently, when a cop had hurried someone away from backstage, was that he had a standing restraining order on her. She’d once again tried to get into rehearsals.
“Noneof this is mine
All this evil is yours
You tried to steal me
Now you’ll kill alone.”
He’d also happily informedme that his sister had gone for a semester abroad, and never came back. She finagled all the visas and legalities while she was there, and just took up residence in Australia. She came to the states once a year to see him, and a few other family members, but the rest of the time, it was Holland visiting her. It was safer, he had the money for the protection, she didn’t. The ocean was what she needed.
“Killing,killing yourself
Killing, killing your hope
Killing, killing all life and joy
You might have had
Killing alone, alone, alone…”
I letthe last chord fade with Maddox’s voice. He was studying me as I held the guitar, and the way he was so intent on my face, flicking down to my lips and then to my fingertips.
Now, I was desperately clutching the acoustic to my lap to hide the hard-on he’d just given me.
It was torturous hell to be attracted to a straight man, knowing I could never win him over. It wasn’t like he could decide he’d had enough hetero sex that he wanted to try the other team. It didn’t work like that.
None of that helped the fact I was poking a twenty-thousand-dollar house guitar with my stiffy.
“We’re doing that on-stage tomorrow night,” Maddox said, coughing and turning to face the auditorium. “We need to.” I could see him put his hand to his forehead. “Damn, Aaron. We got more than we bargained for with you. We were just hoping to replace Grig with someone friendly and good at drums. You are other level.”
Tossing a look over his shoulder, he gave me a crooked smile. “You’re going to make this band amazing. Like Pearl Jam, The Who, Led Zep level amazing. And I can’t wait.”
