Chapter Twenty-one, Deserve
Posted by DiF on Saturday, August 13, 2011
Title: Don’t Look Away: Chapter Twenty-one, Deserve
Rating: PG-13 [language, alcohol]
Summary: Cady recovers from her 'memory loss', Keith discovers the pleasure of cherry bombs, John is quietly supportive, and Pete worries. No, I don't know what Roger was up to.
Heading down to the lobby, Cady snuck a kiss with Pete before the elevator doors open. Her face quickly went impassive, her eyebrows furrowing as if she were confused. He chuckled softly, squeezed her hand, and led her to the rest of the band. As she had for the past week, she greeted everyone as if she had never met them before. John played his role perfectly, expressing concern at her supposed lack of memory, even mentioning that perhaps in the next city they should seek the advice of a doctor. Pete never introduced her to Kit, something the manager did not seem to mind, though Chris Stamp often seemed as concerned as John did. The most interesting daily re-introduction was always Roger. Sometimes he pretended to hate her, sometimes to be her very best friend. It always made for an interesting flight to the next venue.
That day he greeted her with bored disdain, laying the day’s rules down silently. With little worry, Cady turned to Keith, her eyes glazed over. The drummer instantly groaned when Pete warned him of her condition. As he had been warned by John, repeatedly, to tread carefully when it came to Cady’s memory loss, Keith struggled to keep himself in check. He did not need to make her worse. That would surely result in his being ejected from the band by Pete.
“Good morning, love,” he stated cautiously. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’m sorry. What’s your name? Do we know each other?”
“Cady,” Pete leaned closer to her, speaking softly but not so quietly that Keith could not hear him, “he’s Keith, the drummer. I explained this to you in the elevator.”
“Oh…” her eyes remained focused on Keith. “Are we friends?”
“The best of friends,” he quickly answered.
“Oh… how long have we known each other?”
“FOREVER,” he declared loudly before quickly embracing her. “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, CADY. PLEASE REMEMBER!”
She wiggled in his arms, trying to push him away, “I find it hard to believe that we’re best friends.”
“WE ARE,” Keith stated before lowering his voice to a whisper, his arms still wrapped around her waist. “I’m really, really, really sorry I hit your head. Please come back to us, love. Please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please let me go,” she requested.
He hugged her tightly for a bit longer before releasing her. John instantly cautioned him against his actions, making the drummer roll his eyes. Pete slipped his arm around Cady, guiding her out of the hotel and into a waiting car. Before the door closed, John slipped in, locking the door so that Keith could not join the trio.
“So…” John looked to Cady, “how much longer?”
“I don’t know. It’s a little less fun now that Roger kinda plays along too,” she responded. “It was fun for a couple of days, but now…”
“How are we going to break it to him that you’re okay?” Pete asked.
“Um…”
“Maybe let him cure you?” John suggested.
Pete scoffed, “No. We are teaching him a lesson, not letting him think he’s a god.”
“Well… I’m not sure then.”
Cady sighed, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll just act all normal.”
“But that’s hardly–”
“Pete, it’s the simplest solution. Or do you want to knock me out again and when you revive me, I’m okay?”
“I am not going to hurt you – even in jest.”
“So tomorrow all goes back to normal,” Cady declared, leaned over, and kissed his cheek.
“What if he does it again?”
John lit a cigarette before responding, “Pete, mate, I think we’ve tortured Keith long enough. He might think twice about before tossing your bird around again. If we have issues again, we’ll smack his nose with a newspaper.”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh stop, love,” Cady nudged him. “Stop worrying so much. The point was made. We go back to business as usual. It will be fine.”
“But…”
She kissed his cheek once more, “It will be fine. I promise.”
Leaving his girlfriend in the bathtub, Pete left the hotel room in search of something to eat. He found an apple in the lobby and directions from the front desk to a cozy diner for a late night dinner. He presumed Cady was still in the tub and wanted to give her some time to herself with all the hectic tour stops. Therefore, he lounged in the lobby, reading the daily paper as he chewed on the apple. Keith ran through the lobby, but Pete thought nothing of it and hardly glanced up. Since Cady woke one morning a week ago ‘miraculously cured,’ the relations between the members of the band stabilized. Everything seemed… as normal as it could be. Pete could almost say he was even happy. All he was missing was a complete album. Nevertheless, that night, he believed it would unfold when it was meant to. Things were good.
With the paper and the apple finished, Pete got to his feet. He returned the paper and tossed his apple core. Rather than take the elevator as they were only on the second floor, he skipped steps as he headed to his girlfriend. Passing Keith and John’s shared room, he paused and knocked.
“Hey,” Pete greeted the drummer, “could I use your bog?”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed quickly.
Glancing at John as he stepped into the room, Pete cautiously reached for the bathroom handle. He pushed the door open and froze. Where there should have been a toilet, a gaping, blackened hole spewed water. Pulling the door closed again, he looked to Keith and then to John, who stood towards the back of the room, smoking a cigarette.
“Christ, what happened?”
“Well this cherry bomb was about to go off in me hand and I threw it down the toilet to stop it going off.”
“Are they really that powerful?”
“Yeah, it’s incredible,” he grinned.
Pete paused, “How many of ‘em have you got?”
“About five hundred,” he grinned and hurried to the case near his bed and opened it.
“Bloody hell,” the guitarist muttered as his eyes fell on the open case, filled to the brim with cherry bombs.
Not saying anything else, Pete turned and left the room, hurrying back to his own. With the water filling Keith and John’s bathroom, it was only a matter of time before the hotel staff found out. He wanted to make certain Cady was dressed and prepared for… whatever was about to unfold. The hotel was not likely to just forgive and forget the fact there was a hole where a toilet should be. This was not going to be good.
Unlocking the door, Pete slipped in quickly, “Cady, love?”
“Hmmm?” she leaned out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body.
“Get dressed,” he instructed, tossing a random dress at her.
“Why?”
“Because,” Pete turned away to find her panties.
She caught the panties he threw at her a moment later, “Pete, what’s going on?”
He shuffled around the room, gathering their things and shoving them into their suitcases, “Keith… um…”
“What?”
“He blew up his toilet.”
She dropped her towel, “He did what?”
“He blew up his toilet. And I’m sure once the hotel figures it out…”
“Understood,” she quickly dressed. “How much time do you think we have?”
“I don’t know. Maybe an hour,” he glanced up at her. “God, Cady, you’re beautiful.”
She smiled crookedly, “Well thanks. I didn’t know the wet-hair-on-my-shoulders-look was one of your favorites.”
“I didn’t either,” he smirked, dropped the shirt in his hands, and quickly embraced her. “But it is.”
His mouth met hers, kissing her deeply, just as a knock sounded at the door. With a sigh, Pete pulled away and opened the door. Unsurprised to find Chris informing him that the band had to vacate the hotel promptly, he nodded and left the door open as he finished packing their belongings. Cady emptied their bathroom items into a large purse before looping her arm with Pete’s and heading down to the lobby.
Shoved into the backseat of the first car with between Pete and John, Cady looked to the bassist, “Did you have anything to do with this?”
He smirked, “I have no idea what you mean.”
She rolled her eyes, “And to think I was going to invite you to dinner with Pete and me…”
“Pity.”
Cady leaned forward, addressing the manager who rode with them, “Chris, do you think we can stop for food before finding a new hotel?”
He turned in the seat, looking at all three of them quickly, “I don’t see why not.”
“Excellent,” she grinned at him.
“So, mate,” Pete leaned around Cady as she leaned back, “is this going to become a problem?”
John casually draped his arm on the back of the seat, around Cady’s shoulders, “Sitting in the back of a car with your girl? No, I would think not.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He smirked, but said nothing. For some reason, Pete had the distinct feeling that Keith’s discovery of easily accessible explosives was going to become problematic for the band. And he had no clue at all how to defeat it. Hopefully, it would be a phase… a short phase, and not one that permanently damaged the band.
Sitting in the lobby of their second hotel that night, a trend that continued seemingly with each tour stop, Cady doodled on a pad of paper she picked up the day before. Pete busily wrote whatever song overpowered his thoughts at the moment in their room, driving her to the lobby. It was not as if he asked her to leave; she just found it weird to sit in the room while he worked out a song. Therefore, she retreated from the room. Passing the open door to Keith and John’s room, finding it scarily empty, Cady sought out quietude in the lobby, fairly certain Keith would not explode something down there. Though she could have stolen the book Pete was completely enamored with lately and therefore find some understanding of this Meher Baba man he spoke of, Cady decided against that. While Pete worked on his art, she would work on her own.
Though normally she preferred a paintbrush, she sketched fluidly on the paper, attempting to put form to the images in her mind. Mostly derivative of experiences with the band lately, most of her line drawings became figures of the band, audience, or the rest of the entourage. She found her drawings focusing on John’s quiet façade with the rest of the band swirling around him. Smirking to herself, she flipped to the next page to focus on drawing his face from memory.
“What if I grew a moustache?” a soft voice halted her pen’s movements.
Cady looked up, “It would depend on its shape, John.”
He sat beside her, “Did you draw that from memory?”
“Well yes. You did just now come down here,” she replied.
“It’s… can I look at it better?”
“Sure,” she handed the sketchbook over with the half-completed sketch of the bassist.
His blue eyes looked over it carefully. Glancing up for permission, he flipped back to the previous drawing. Spending twice as long looking it over, he smiled before his eyes went back to Cady. She nodded again and he flipped to another page. After about thirty minutes, John closed her sketchbook and handed it back. He took out a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth and away from her.
Waiting for the smoke to curl around his thoughts, John stated, “Pete was right.”
“About what?” she asked, slipping her ink pen into the spiral of the sketchbook.
“You are very talented.”
Cady instantly flushed, “No, I’m not.”
“Bullshit,” he quickly responded. “I just looked through your entire sketchbook. I have never seen you actually sketch us while we’re performing, not that the fact you draw from memory makes you talented. The true line of your work makes you talented. I wish I had the chance to see more of your paintings.”
“Oh they’re even worse than these childlike drawings.”
His eyes widened and he quickly looked around for an ashtray to dispose of his cigarette. With the burning stick put out and discarded, John picked up the sketchbook again and flipped to a random page. He turned it to her, tapping on the paper.
“How is this childlike? Sure, your proportions aren’t spot on, but by god, Cade, this is not childlike. With a bit more shading, I could mistake it as a black and white photograph,” he declared. “And I’m pretty sure you didn’t sketch Pete when he wasn’t looking. This is amazing work, Cade. Stop talking yourself down.”
“I just… I just…”
“You’re talented. I can see it. Pete has told me repeatedly. Why can’t you accept it?”
“Because… because everyone else has always told me…”
“Fuck everyone else. I may not be the best bassist in the world, but every fucking time I take the stage, I tell myself that I am. And you know what? People are starting to believe that I am. You are a very talented artist, Cady. Listen to us… listen to me when I say it. You are very talented,” John declared.
“I…” she reached for the sketchbook and closed it. “Thank you, John. That means a lot to me.”
He smiled, “What are you doing down here anyways? Shouldn’t you be with Pete?”
“He’s working on music again.”
“Ah,” he nodded.
“And your room was empty, so I figured this was the safest place to be.”
He smirked, “Could be. Do you want to go on a walk with me? Maybe Pete will be done when we get back. It is a beautiful night out.”
“I… sure,” she smiled. “That would be lovely.”
Sitting back from the tape player, Pete looked to John for his reaction. The bassist motioned for him to rewind the tape and play the demo again. Pete complied, watching his best friend as he nodded throughout the song. The tape ended again with the guitarist reaching over and pressing the stop button.
“So?”
“You wrote this song for Cady, didn’t you?”
“I… uh…”
“It’s okay, mate,” he smirked.
Pete nodded, “I guess I can’t just… I mean… I didn’t intend… it just…”
“It’s okay,” John repeated. “It’s a good song.”
“Do you think… do you think…”
“Stop worrying over it, mate,” he got to his feet and poured a glass of whiskey, handing it to Pete before pouring another. “If Roger won’t sing it, then you can. Simple as that.”
“I know… I just…”
“Mate,” John warned before downing his drink, “you’re overthinking things.”
Pete sighed and slowly drank his glass of whiskey, “She’s too good for me.”
“What?”
“Cady. Cady is too good for me.”
John poured another drink before sitting back down, “What makes you say that?”
“Well for one, she’s too beautiful to be with an ugly geezer like me.”
The bassist smirked but did not say anything.
“And my god, she has more talent in her pinkie finger than I do in all my bo–”
“Oh, shut it. You’re certainly not lacking talent.”
“But–”
“Look, mate, it doesn’t matter if you deserve her or not. You have her. So if you don’t think you deserve her, you change things so that you do. Or you walk away. That simple,” John countered.
Pete’s eyes widened, “I can’t leave her. She’s my everything.”
He sipped his drink coolly, not saying anything.
“She… she… god, John… I…”
He just nodded, remaining silent.
“I… oh god. Where is she? I got so caught up in music again that–”
“Relax. When I came up here, she was sitting in the lobby with Chris, talking about something or other,” John declared. “I don’t understand how she gets along so well with him, but not at all with Kit.”
“She doesn’t get along with Kit?”
John stared at his friend, eyes blinking.
“I thought they were getting on just fine…”
“Pete, have you already forgotten why we came to America without your girl?”
“Oh,” his eyes dropped to his glass, focusing on the melting ice cubes in the whiskey. “So what should I do?”
John shook his head, “I’m not getting involved in that.”
“Doesn’t Cady talk to you though? I know she’s been spending time with you when I’m… focused.”
He sighed, set down his drink, and lit a cigarette, “I’m not getting involved, Pete.”
“But…”
“No.”
Pete sighed, “Okay, fine. How’s Alison?”
John snorted, spitting out his mouthful of whiskey back into the glass, “You did not just ask me that.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the chair, “I… I have been really out of it, haven’t I?”
“Mate…”
“Fuck, Cady must hate me.”
“No, she doesn’t. She understands.”
Before Pete could say anything in response, the door opened and in walked Kit. John instantly sat up straighter and downed his drink quickly. Pete’s eyes focused on the manger, trying to discern his intentions in the way he walked. As long as he had known Kit, nothing hinted at what the man wanted. Taking his cue from John, he folded his arms across his chest and said nothing.
“How are the new songs coming along?” Kit asked.
Pete shrugged, “They’re coming.”
“Good, good. I’ve booked more studio time. After taping the show with The Smothers Brothers, we’ll return to London and get the album out,” he declared.
He rubbed the back of his neck, “I thought we were going to get some time off…”
“Two days in Hawaii not enough?”
“Um… well…”
“All right. We’ll push back recording until the Monday after the show. That will give you a few more days off,” Kit stated.
Pete stared for a moment, “Um… well…”
“I know you seem to think that you are big stars now, but if we’re going to make any money this year at all, you have to put another record out. Immediately.”
“But, Kit, we’re–”
“A single. Give me a single by the time we’re done with the tour and I might consider giving you a couple more days off,” Kit declared and turned towards the door. “Oh and next tour, your girlfriend isn’t coming. She distracts you.”
The manager left before Pete could regain his thoughts. The closing of the door seemed to spark Pete back into life. He jumped up and hurled his empty drink glass at the door. With a concerned smirk, John lit another cigarette, watching Pete rant and rave.
“Pete,” he muttered.
“Did you hear him? Cady distractsme. What the fuck?”
John shrugged, “I don’t know, mate. I know she’s good for you. Kit’s just… I don’t know… I don’t know, Pete.”
Lying in bed beside Cady, Pete sighed. It had been three days since Kit threatened Cady. He still had not mentioned anything to her, worried about her reaction to it. In addition, he certainly did not want to stress her out with only a few more tour stops left. He would put off telling her indefinitely. She did not need to know that Kit did not want her on tour. Besides, once Kit got to know her better, surely he would change his mind. He just had to. Pete needed Cady with him all the time. She made him feel…
“Pete?” Cady muttered, turning over to face him. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I… I… I guess, I’m not tired.”
Her right hand reached up and caressed his cheek softly, “What troubles you, my darling?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine. I’m great. The band is great. You’re amazing. Everything is fine,” he quickly responded.
Cady sighed, “That means something is in fact wrong. Share your thoughts so you can sleep, Pete.”
“I… I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she stated.
“I… it’s nothing you need to worry about, Cady.”
“Too bad. I am. Now spill it.”
He sighed, “Cady, I don’t really want to…”
“Tell me.”
“A couple of days ago, Kit said you couldn’t come on any further tours,” Pete quickly blurted out.
Cady blinked twice and chuckled, “Did you bother to tell him that I’m the one who is paying my way here? Or perhaps that I am an adult and therefore capable of making my own choices and decisions?”
“Um… no, I didn’t.”
She quickly kissed him, “Kit doesn’t scare me, Pete. At all.”
“But–”
“No buts, Pete. He is not going to stop me from being with you. If he ‘bans’ me from touring with you, I’ll book nights in the same city but a different hotel than the band. Then you can choose to be with me at night or not. If he ‘bans’ me from going to the shows, I’ll buy a ticket to each one. Kit has no control over me, Pete. I will be with you, as I choose, no matter what he wants or thinks,” Cady explained before kissing him again. “Kit doesn’t scare me.”
He sighed, “If you say so…”
“Pete, stop it right now. I love you. My place is with you. Plain and simple. An ocean isn’t going to get in our way. An overbearing manager isn’t going to get in our way. You and me. We belong together,” she declared. “Nothing is getting in our way.”
Leaning forward he kissed her softly, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Enough of that. You have me and that’s all that matters,” Cady snuggled closer. “Close your eyes, Pete. Get some rest. It’s quiet tonight. Keith’s passed out. Sleep, love. I’ll still be here in the morning.”
Rating: PG-13 [language, alcohol]
Summary: Cady recovers from her 'memory loss', Keith discovers the pleasure of cherry bombs, John is quietly supportive, and Pete worries. No, I don't know what Roger was up to.
Heading down to the lobby, Cady snuck a kiss with Pete before the elevator doors open. Her face quickly went impassive, her eyebrows furrowing as if she were confused. He chuckled softly, squeezed her hand, and led her to the rest of the band. As she had for the past week, she greeted everyone as if she had never met them before. John played his role perfectly, expressing concern at her supposed lack of memory, even mentioning that perhaps in the next city they should seek the advice of a doctor. Pete never introduced her to Kit, something the manager did not seem to mind, though Chris Stamp often seemed as concerned as John did. The most interesting daily re-introduction was always Roger. Sometimes he pretended to hate her, sometimes to be her very best friend. It always made for an interesting flight to the next venue.
That day he greeted her with bored disdain, laying the day’s rules down silently. With little worry, Cady turned to Keith, her eyes glazed over. The drummer instantly groaned when Pete warned him of her condition. As he had been warned by John, repeatedly, to tread carefully when it came to Cady’s memory loss, Keith struggled to keep himself in check. He did not need to make her worse. That would surely result in his being ejected from the band by Pete.
“Good morning, love,” he stated cautiously. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’m sorry. What’s your name? Do we know each other?”
“Cady,” Pete leaned closer to her, speaking softly but not so quietly that Keith could not hear him, “he’s Keith, the drummer. I explained this to you in the elevator.”
“Oh…” her eyes remained focused on Keith. “Are we friends?”
“The best of friends,” he quickly answered.
“Oh… how long have we known each other?”
“FOREVER,” he declared loudly before quickly embracing her. “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, CADY. PLEASE REMEMBER!”
She wiggled in his arms, trying to push him away, “I find it hard to believe that we’re best friends.”
“WE ARE,” Keith stated before lowering his voice to a whisper, his arms still wrapped around her waist. “I’m really, really, really sorry I hit your head. Please come back to us, love. Please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please let me go,” she requested.
He hugged her tightly for a bit longer before releasing her. John instantly cautioned him against his actions, making the drummer roll his eyes. Pete slipped his arm around Cady, guiding her out of the hotel and into a waiting car. Before the door closed, John slipped in, locking the door so that Keith could not join the trio.
“So…” John looked to Cady, “how much longer?”
“I don’t know. It’s a little less fun now that Roger kinda plays along too,” she responded. “It was fun for a couple of days, but now…”
“How are we going to break it to him that you’re okay?” Pete asked.
“Um…”
“Maybe let him cure you?” John suggested.
Pete scoffed, “No. We are teaching him a lesson, not letting him think he’s a god.”
“Well… I’m not sure then.”
Cady sighed, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll just act all normal.”
“But that’s hardly–”
“Pete, it’s the simplest solution. Or do you want to knock me out again and when you revive me, I’m okay?”
“I am not going to hurt you – even in jest.”
“So tomorrow all goes back to normal,” Cady declared, leaned over, and kissed his cheek.
“What if he does it again?”
John lit a cigarette before responding, “Pete, mate, I think we’ve tortured Keith long enough. He might think twice about before tossing your bird around again. If we have issues again, we’ll smack his nose with a newspaper.”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh stop, love,” Cady nudged him. “Stop worrying so much. The point was made. We go back to business as usual. It will be fine.”
“But…”
She kissed his cheek once more, “It will be fine. I promise.”
Leaving his girlfriend in the bathtub, Pete left the hotel room in search of something to eat. He found an apple in the lobby and directions from the front desk to a cozy diner for a late night dinner. He presumed Cady was still in the tub and wanted to give her some time to herself with all the hectic tour stops. Therefore, he lounged in the lobby, reading the daily paper as he chewed on the apple. Keith ran through the lobby, but Pete thought nothing of it and hardly glanced up. Since Cady woke one morning a week ago ‘miraculously cured,’ the relations between the members of the band stabilized. Everything seemed… as normal as it could be. Pete could almost say he was even happy. All he was missing was a complete album. Nevertheless, that night, he believed it would unfold when it was meant to. Things were good.
With the paper and the apple finished, Pete got to his feet. He returned the paper and tossed his apple core. Rather than take the elevator as they were only on the second floor, he skipped steps as he headed to his girlfriend. Passing Keith and John’s shared room, he paused and knocked.
“Hey,” Pete greeted the drummer, “could I use your bog?”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed quickly.
Glancing at John as he stepped into the room, Pete cautiously reached for the bathroom handle. He pushed the door open and froze. Where there should have been a toilet, a gaping, blackened hole spewed water. Pulling the door closed again, he looked to Keith and then to John, who stood towards the back of the room, smoking a cigarette.
“Christ, what happened?”
“Well this cherry bomb was about to go off in me hand and I threw it down the toilet to stop it going off.”
“Are they really that powerful?”
“Yeah, it’s incredible,” he grinned.
Pete paused, “How many of ‘em have you got?”
“About five hundred,” he grinned and hurried to the case near his bed and opened it.
“Bloody hell,” the guitarist muttered as his eyes fell on the open case, filled to the brim with cherry bombs.
Not saying anything else, Pete turned and left the room, hurrying back to his own. With the water filling Keith and John’s bathroom, it was only a matter of time before the hotel staff found out. He wanted to make certain Cady was dressed and prepared for… whatever was about to unfold. The hotel was not likely to just forgive and forget the fact there was a hole where a toilet should be. This was not going to be good.
Unlocking the door, Pete slipped in quickly, “Cady, love?”
“Hmmm?” she leaned out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body.
“Get dressed,” he instructed, tossing a random dress at her.
“Why?”
“Because,” Pete turned away to find her panties.
She caught the panties he threw at her a moment later, “Pete, what’s going on?”
He shuffled around the room, gathering their things and shoving them into their suitcases, “Keith… um…”
“What?”
“He blew up his toilet.”
She dropped her towel, “He did what?”
“He blew up his toilet. And I’m sure once the hotel figures it out…”
“Understood,” she quickly dressed. “How much time do you think we have?”
“I don’t know. Maybe an hour,” he glanced up at her. “God, Cady, you’re beautiful.”
She smiled crookedly, “Well thanks. I didn’t know the wet-hair-on-my-shoulders-look was one of your favorites.”
“I didn’t either,” he smirked, dropped the shirt in his hands, and quickly embraced her. “But it is.”
His mouth met hers, kissing her deeply, just as a knock sounded at the door. With a sigh, Pete pulled away and opened the door. Unsurprised to find Chris informing him that the band had to vacate the hotel promptly, he nodded and left the door open as he finished packing their belongings. Cady emptied their bathroom items into a large purse before looping her arm with Pete’s and heading down to the lobby.
Shoved into the backseat of the first car with between Pete and John, Cady looked to the bassist, “Did you have anything to do with this?”
He smirked, “I have no idea what you mean.”
She rolled her eyes, “And to think I was going to invite you to dinner with Pete and me…”
“Pity.”
Cady leaned forward, addressing the manager who rode with them, “Chris, do you think we can stop for food before finding a new hotel?”
He turned in the seat, looking at all three of them quickly, “I don’t see why not.”
“Excellent,” she grinned at him.
“So, mate,” Pete leaned around Cady as she leaned back, “is this going to become a problem?”
John casually draped his arm on the back of the seat, around Cady’s shoulders, “Sitting in the back of a car with your girl? No, I would think not.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He smirked, but said nothing. For some reason, Pete had the distinct feeling that Keith’s discovery of easily accessible explosives was going to become problematic for the band. And he had no clue at all how to defeat it. Hopefully, it would be a phase… a short phase, and not one that permanently damaged the band.
Sitting in the lobby of their second hotel that night, a trend that continued seemingly with each tour stop, Cady doodled on a pad of paper she picked up the day before. Pete busily wrote whatever song overpowered his thoughts at the moment in their room, driving her to the lobby. It was not as if he asked her to leave; she just found it weird to sit in the room while he worked out a song. Therefore, she retreated from the room. Passing the open door to Keith and John’s room, finding it scarily empty, Cady sought out quietude in the lobby, fairly certain Keith would not explode something down there. Though she could have stolen the book Pete was completely enamored with lately and therefore find some understanding of this Meher Baba man he spoke of, Cady decided against that. While Pete worked on his art, she would work on her own.
Though normally she preferred a paintbrush, she sketched fluidly on the paper, attempting to put form to the images in her mind. Mostly derivative of experiences with the band lately, most of her line drawings became figures of the band, audience, or the rest of the entourage. She found her drawings focusing on John’s quiet façade with the rest of the band swirling around him. Smirking to herself, she flipped to the next page to focus on drawing his face from memory.
“What if I grew a moustache?” a soft voice halted her pen’s movements.
Cady looked up, “It would depend on its shape, John.”
He sat beside her, “Did you draw that from memory?”
“Well yes. You did just now come down here,” she replied.
“It’s… can I look at it better?”
“Sure,” she handed the sketchbook over with the half-completed sketch of the bassist.
His blue eyes looked over it carefully. Glancing up for permission, he flipped back to the previous drawing. Spending twice as long looking it over, he smiled before his eyes went back to Cady. She nodded again and he flipped to another page. After about thirty minutes, John closed her sketchbook and handed it back. He took out a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth and away from her.
Waiting for the smoke to curl around his thoughts, John stated, “Pete was right.”
“About what?” she asked, slipping her ink pen into the spiral of the sketchbook.
“You are very talented.”
Cady instantly flushed, “No, I’m not.”
“Bullshit,” he quickly responded. “I just looked through your entire sketchbook. I have never seen you actually sketch us while we’re performing, not that the fact you draw from memory makes you talented. The true line of your work makes you talented. I wish I had the chance to see more of your paintings.”
“Oh they’re even worse than these childlike drawings.”
His eyes widened and he quickly looked around for an ashtray to dispose of his cigarette. With the burning stick put out and discarded, John picked up the sketchbook again and flipped to a random page. He turned it to her, tapping on the paper.
“How is this childlike? Sure, your proportions aren’t spot on, but by god, Cade, this is not childlike. With a bit more shading, I could mistake it as a black and white photograph,” he declared. “And I’m pretty sure you didn’t sketch Pete when he wasn’t looking. This is amazing work, Cade. Stop talking yourself down.”
“I just… I just…”
“You’re talented. I can see it. Pete has told me repeatedly. Why can’t you accept it?”
“Because… because everyone else has always told me…”
“Fuck everyone else. I may not be the best bassist in the world, but every fucking time I take the stage, I tell myself that I am. And you know what? People are starting to believe that I am. You are a very talented artist, Cady. Listen to us… listen to me when I say it. You are very talented,” John declared.
“I…” she reached for the sketchbook and closed it. “Thank you, John. That means a lot to me.”
He smiled, “What are you doing down here anyways? Shouldn’t you be with Pete?”
“He’s working on music again.”
“Ah,” he nodded.
“And your room was empty, so I figured this was the safest place to be.”
He smirked, “Could be. Do you want to go on a walk with me? Maybe Pete will be done when we get back. It is a beautiful night out.”
“I… sure,” she smiled. “That would be lovely.”
Sitting back from the tape player, Pete looked to John for his reaction. The bassist motioned for him to rewind the tape and play the demo again. Pete complied, watching his best friend as he nodded throughout the song. The tape ended again with the guitarist reaching over and pressing the stop button.
“So?”
“You wrote this song for Cady, didn’t you?”
“I… uh…”
“It’s okay, mate,” he smirked.
Pete nodded, “I guess I can’t just… I mean… I didn’t intend… it just…”
“It’s okay,” John repeated. “It’s a good song.”
“Do you think… do you think…”
“Stop worrying over it, mate,” he got to his feet and poured a glass of whiskey, handing it to Pete before pouring another. “If Roger won’t sing it, then you can. Simple as that.”
“I know… I just…”
“Mate,” John warned before downing his drink, “you’re overthinking things.”
Pete sighed and slowly drank his glass of whiskey, “She’s too good for me.”
“What?”
“Cady. Cady is too good for me.”
John poured another drink before sitting back down, “What makes you say that?”
“Well for one, she’s too beautiful to be with an ugly geezer like me.”
The bassist smirked but did not say anything.
“And my god, she has more talent in her pinkie finger than I do in all my bo–”
“Oh, shut it. You’re certainly not lacking talent.”
“But–”
“Look, mate, it doesn’t matter if you deserve her or not. You have her. So if you don’t think you deserve her, you change things so that you do. Or you walk away. That simple,” John countered.
Pete’s eyes widened, “I can’t leave her. She’s my everything.”
He sipped his drink coolly, not saying anything.
“She… she… god, John… I…”
He just nodded, remaining silent.
“I… oh god. Where is she? I got so caught up in music again that–”
“Relax. When I came up here, she was sitting in the lobby with Chris, talking about something or other,” John declared. “I don’t understand how she gets along so well with him, but not at all with Kit.”
“She doesn’t get along with Kit?”
John stared at his friend, eyes blinking.
“I thought they were getting on just fine…”
“Pete, have you already forgotten why we came to America without your girl?”
“Oh,” his eyes dropped to his glass, focusing on the melting ice cubes in the whiskey. “So what should I do?”
John shook his head, “I’m not getting involved in that.”
“Doesn’t Cady talk to you though? I know she’s been spending time with you when I’m… focused.”
He sighed, set down his drink, and lit a cigarette, “I’m not getting involved, Pete.”
“But…”
“No.”
Pete sighed, “Okay, fine. How’s Alison?”
John snorted, spitting out his mouthful of whiskey back into the glass, “You did not just ask me that.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the chair, “I… I have been really out of it, haven’t I?”
“Mate…”
“Fuck, Cady must hate me.”
“No, she doesn’t. She understands.”
Before Pete could say anything in response, the door opened and in walked Kit. John instantly sat up straighter and downed his drink quickly. Pete’s eyes focused on the manger, trying to discern his intentions in the way he walked. As long as he had known Kit, nothing hinted at what the man wanted. Taking his cue from John, he folded his arms across his chest and said nothing.
“How are the new songs coming along?” Kit asked.
Pete shrugged, “They’re coming.”
“Good, good. I’ve booked more studio time. After taping the show with The Smothers Brothers, we’ll return to London and get the album out,” he declared.
He rubbed the back of his neck, “I thought we were going to get some time off…”
“Two days in Hawaii not enough?”
“Um… well…”
“All right. We’ll push back recording until the Monday after the show. That will give you a few more days off,” Kit stated.
Pete stared for a moment, “Um… well…”
“I know you seem to think that you are big stars now, but if we’re going to make any money this year at all, you have to put another record out. Immediately.”
“But, Kit, we’re–”
“A single. Give me a single by the time we’re done with the tour and I might consider giving you a couple more days off,” Kit declared and turned towards the door. “Oh and next tour, your girlfriend isn’t coming. She distracts you.”
The manager left before Pete could regain his thoughts. The closing of the door seemed to spark Pete back into life. He jumped up and hurled his empty drink glass at the door. With a concerned smirk, John lit another cigarette, watching Pete rant and rave.
“Pete,” he muttered.
“Did you hear him? Cady distractsme. What the fuck?”
John shrugged, “I don’t know, mate. I know she’s good for you. Kit’s just… I don’t know… I don’t know, Pete.”
Lying in bed beside Cady, Pete sighed. It had been three days since Kit threatened Cady. He still had not mentioned anything to her, worried about her reaction to it. In addition, he certainly did not want to stress her out with only a few more tour stops left. He would put off telling her indefinitely. She did not need to know that Kit did not want her on tour. Besides, once Kit got to know her better, surely he would change his mind. He just had to. Pete needed Cady with him all the time. She made him feel…
“Pete?” Cady muttered, turning over to face him. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I… I… I guess, I’m not tired.”
Her right hand reached up and caressed his cheek softly, “What troubles you, my darling?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine. I’m great. The band is great. You’re amazing. Everything is fine,” he quickly responded.
Cady sighed, “That means something is in fact wrong. Share your thoughts so you can sleep, Pete.”
“I… I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she stated.
“I… it’s nothing you need to worry about, Cady.”
“Too bad. I am. Now spill it.”
He sighed, “Cady, I don’t really want to…”
“Tell me.”
“A couple of days ago, Kit said you couldn’t come on any further tours,” Pete quickly blurted out.
Cady blinked twice and chuckled, “Did you bother to tell him that I’m the one who is paying my way here? Or perhaps that I am an adult and therefore capable of making my own choices and decisions?”
“Um… no, I didn’t.”
She quickly kissed him, “Kit doesn’t scare me, Pete. At all.”
“But–”
“No buts, Pete. He is not going to stop me from being with you. If he ‘bans’ me from touring with you, I’ll book nights in the same city but a different hotel than the band. Then you can choose to be with me at night or not. If he ‘bans’ me from going to the shows, I’ll buy a ticket to each one. Kit has no control over me, Pete. I will be with you, as I choose, no matter what he wants or thinks,” Cady explained before kissing him again. “Kit doesn’t scare me.”
He sighed, “If you say so…”
“Pete, stop it right now. I love you. My place is with you. Plain and simple. An ocean isn’t going to get in our way. An overbearing manager isn’t going to get in our way. You and me. We belong together,” she declared. “Nothing is getting in our way.”
Leaning forward he kissed her softly, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Enough of that. You have me and that’s all that matters,” Cady snuggled closer. “Close your eyes, Pete. Get some rest. It’s quiet tonight. Keith’s passed out. Sleep, love. I’ll still be here in the morning.”
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