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And Derek? Cocaine or heroin was a good metaphor. As much as I might long for him, I knew it wouldn’t be that long before he had reduced me to a shambles again. I knew it in college, I knew it when I slept with him the first time, and I knew it now. He was a scorpion. It was useless pretending rehab had been some sort of cocoon, and some beautiful, harmless creature had emerged.
And Riley – all I could think of was Riley, lying in the bed, tears streaming out of her eyes, crying,
Everybody leaves. They always leave… they always leave me…
Everywhere I turned there was collateral damage. I couldn’t
not
hurt someone – including myself.
There was this myth that in an ancient city, there was a puzzle called the Gordian Knot. Hideously complex and thought impossible to solve, prophets said that whomever untangled it would become the ruler of Asia. For centuries the knot remained intact until Alexander the Great came along and tried – and succeeded by slicing it in half with his sword. Cheating, maybe, but nobody said that cheating was out of bounds.
Well… not
that
kind of cheating.
I had my own Gordian Knot to unravel, but cheating was
definitely
out of bounds.
Which meant that maybe I was destined to fail.
In cases of intractable problems, I usually turn to sleep or alcohol.
Sleep was out of the question, so I eventually found myself in the bar.
The crowd was sparse. I guess all the big action was at the music festival, so only the well-heeled drunks were hanging out tonight.
I ordered a cosmopolitan; I had abandoned amaretto sours after they’d nearly killed me that night in Seattle with Riley.
As I sat there at the bar nursing my wounds and my drink, I heard a familiar British voice order next to me: “Double gin ‘n tonic, make it top shelf.”
Miles.
Shit.
I was hunched down over my drink. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.
I turned to my left, away from the source of the voice –
“Don’t move.”
Shit shit shit.
I looked over. Miles was leaning against the bar, staring at the rows of drinks.
I thought about trying to joke about
Did you come to bury me out in the desert?
but I was afraid the answer might be ‘yes.’ So I just kept quiet.
The bartender finally set down the cocktail. Miles paid with a twenty and a ten, muttered “Keep the change,” and took a long drink.
When he set it down, he said, “I suppose you’re thinking I’m gonna have a go at you. Smack you around a bit.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Do you know how many bands I’ve managed over the years?”
I shook my head ‘no.’
“Nine. Nine bands. Some were absolute shite. Some were pretty good. This one… this was going to be the one they put on my tombstone. Maybe still will.” He took another drink. “You know the one thing in common about the other eight?”
“No.”
“They all broke up. Every last one of ‘em. Whether it was drugs or money or somebody bought it, or just a general habit of my associating with stupid gits, they all broke up. This one? Full of stupid gits. They just happen to be uncommonly talented, is all.”
He took another drink.
“I knew you was trouble from the moment you walked in. Got on that elevator, saw the way Derek looked at you, and I knew. Didn’t know
how
it was going to go down, but I knew it all the same. Wasn’t till I saw
Ryan
look at you that I could read the writin’ on the wall. But it was there, clear as day, right from the beginnin’.”
“…sorry.”
He shrugged. “If they could break up over a woman, they were gonna break up no matter what. Maybe not now, maybe not a year from now, but it would’ve happened. You… somebody else… doesn’t matter. It would’ve eventually happened.”
My wounded ego wanted to pipe up and say,
I don’t think it could’ve been just ANYBODY,
but then I remembered it was still Miles next to me, and my sense of preservation kept me quiet on
that
topic.
“Still… I’m sorry,” I said.
“There’s a pool goin’ ‘mongst the roadies about whether they’ll make it past tomorrow’s show. You want in on the action?”
“I just had a fight with Ryan.”
He looked at me. “Really.”
“He says he’s going to leave the band no matter what after the concert. I’m going to try to talk him out of it, but… I don’t know if I can.”
Miles smiled bitterly. “I could make a few quid on the bet with that sort of insider information. Still, seems hardly fair.”
He downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Ah well. There will be other bands. Number ten is somewhere around the corner, full of stupid gits just waiting for a firm hand.” He looked at me. “But this one… this one was special.”
I nodded slowly.
He didn’t say another word, just walked out of the bar.
