Page 43 of Mayhem

I turn and head back to my car, feeling the frown on my face deepen as I ask myself these existential questions. There are too many flying around for me to focus on a single one of them.

When I get in, I glance up to the rearview mirror and catch Charlie looking back at me curiously but then quickly shut her eyes as if she were still sleeping.

Caught red handed.

“Nice try, baby girl,” I say with a smirk. She’s really outdoing herself lately.

“What?” she asks with a yawn, stretching as though she’s just woken from a deep sleep.

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know.” I let Tess leave the lot first, then head toward my apartment, traffic light this time of evening for a change.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually her little voice pipes up behind me, soft but confident. “But is it working?”

The laugh that escapes me is uncontrollable. My little girl – my baby girl – is turning into some kind of diabolical matchmaker with plots and schemes for days to get me and Tess together. And fuck if it isn’t working.

“Touché,” I admit, shaking my head. “Touché.”

26

LIKE LOVERS DO

TESS

Dakota is full of surprises. He’s had a lot of life happen to him for such a young guy. I hate having to pry open old wounds for him, especially about his history of drug abuse, and the death of his wife, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business, it’s that everything can and will be found out eventually. Things you thought you could keep to yourself, or that you think no one knows about, will become public fodder. Keeping anything from me will only make our lives harder once that happens.

Just knowing what skeletons are hiding in the closet allows me to prepare for whatever hell the public wants to make of them when they do become known. I know things about some well-respected people that would make your hair curl, but it’s all a part of this job. Getting ahead of the story, before it becomes a scandal. If I’m not caught off guard, emergencies can be dealt with. And even with all of Dakota’s skeletons, there’s nothing unmanageable about them.

As a matter of fact, anyone who would try to spin his stories into anything other than the tragedies they are would be vilified for the attempt. He’s had a hard life. And sure, some of the wounds have been self-inflicted, but that only adds to the tragicness of it all. My heart aches for him and all he’s been through, but at the same time he’s earned so much of my respect for how he’s getting through it. He’s chosen to rise above his circumstances and try for better things, to be a better person, make the world a better place. I admire that spirit and wish I had more of that in my own attitude.

When comparing his to what I think is my own hard life, it’s put into perspective. Everyone goes through their own shit, and we all think it’s the worst. Then you hear stories like Dakota’s, and you realize how much worse it really could have been. Not that you feel lucky, that’s not the point. But you do start to feel how alike we all are in our suffering. Because no matter what that shit is you’ve gone through, the emotional reaction and fallout is the same, or at least similar.

We all hurt. We all have been hurt. We all have hurt others, whether it was intentional or not. Pain is universal. Some are deeper and longer lasting, but no less the same. Some people can brush it off, while others dwell on it and marinate in their pain for long periods of time, or even for the rest of their lives. And some just can’t deal with it at all.

Dakota went through all of it but seems to have landed in a healthy head space. I give him a lot of credit for ending up here, when his own life could have ended as just another tragic story. His emotional strength feels limitless.

When we’re done talking, I feel emotionally wrung out, like my heart is both overflowing and empty at the same time.

“Thanks for sharing your story with me,” I say, meeting Dakota’s eyes with sincerity. “I know it wasn’t easy to bare your soul like this so early in the morning.”

And by early in the morning, I mean it’s just before noon. For a rockstar, this is the crack of fucking dawn. And being interrogated about your life isn’t the easiest thing to do no matter what time of day it is.

“I get it,” he nods, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind his ear. “I get why you need to know this stuff. No worries.”

“Well, just know that until something comes out directly from you, or we need to react to something external, what you’ve told me stays between us, okay? Consider me a vault of secrets.”

“Duly noted,” he chuckles, and the sense of relief in that laugh tells me all I need to know about him. He’s told me everything and kept nothing back.

There’s always a worry that there’s something, some small minute detail that’s just waiting in the shadows to reveal itself when you least expect it, and always at the most inopportune time. Not with Dakota. That small release of worry in his tone tells me that he has bared his soul. There’s nothing left to share with me. And knowing that makes me relax a little bit. I’m prepared to deal with whatever the world might throw at him, and I’ll be his most ardent defender.

Let them try.

On Friday, the entire practice space seems to be bubbling with extra energy. There are sparks in the air as if everyone knows Brad and I are having our second official date. Obviously, they don’t, since we still haven’t said anything about it to anyone, but it feels like everyone knows something is going on.

And I don’t care. At least not about the inner circle. Not about the Chaos Fuel family. What I do care about is the public, and what it would mean if their fans found out. Of all people, I know how it would look to an outsider to see Brad hooking up with someone he works with. It will not go well.

So, for that reason, our date tonight is at my place. And I’m cooking us dinner.

I am not the best cook, but I’m also not the worst. I have a few signature dishes that I’ve mastered over the years. I’ve conquered a million ways to spice up ramen, and can scramble eggs like a pro. That just goes with living alone and having to cook for yourself most of the time.

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