Page 51 of Revived

How was it possible that I kept fucking this up so badly? Two days after that failed attempt to apologize, I left a letter for her on the bus. Dusty Rose was back after a couple of weeks hiatus, so I figured she would return to their bus instead of the one she was on with some of the other crew. Unfortunately, later that evening, I found the unopened envelope in the trashcan of my dressing room. John was with me when I pulled it out.

“Damn dude, when she said she didn’t want to see or hear from you unless you were bleeding to death, I guess she really meant it.” Then he grinned at me like a kid who just found out today was Christmas, in July, and it was time to open presents. “Maybe, it’s about time you started bleeding for her?”

I just stared at my friend, wondering what kind of drugs he was on. He continued laughing at his own joke while I continued to think he was crazy, until I didn’t. It was John’s turn to look at me as though I were the unbalanced one when I ripped the envelope open and swiped the written pages across the side of my finger. Blood welled, almost instantly.

“I wasn’t being serious,” John managed to get out, despite his jaw seeming not to be able to close. “That’s insane. You know that right?”

I just shrugged my shoulders. “Mel is our medical professional. She can’t turn me away this time.”

“Good luck with that,” he called to me as I left the dressing room to head to the spot where I’d seen the road crew toting Mel’s supply bag.

She wasn’t there, but there was a roadie stationed with the bag, walkie in hand. “You on Mel duty?” I asked. He nodded his head while also narrowing his eyes at me. Yeah, she had the whole crew on her side. Good for her, she deserved to have their loyalty, since I showed her that I certainly hadn’t earned it. I held up my bleeding finger and told him that I needed medical attention. The asshole actually reached into the bag and attempted to hand me a band aid. I tipped my head to the side and gave him the look. The one that let him know she’d have many more wounds to treat – on both of us – if he didn’t get her here.

“Fine,” he huffed and then requested Mel return to medical to treat someone. She showed up, nearly out of breath from running here, it seemed.

“What’s going on, Mike?” She asked the kid who smirked and pointed to me.

“Someone has a boo-boo that needs treatment.” Really, fucker? I would remember that, later. For now, I just turned and pouted as I held my hand up for Mel to see the blood that had already started to clot. Damn it. She rolled her eyes at me as she stepped forward to take a look anyway. Seeing that Mike still held the band aid in his hand, she snatched it up, ripped the paper off and then the sticker backing before slapping it firmly on my wound.

“There you go.” She stepped back quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears so it wasn’t in her face. “Honestly, half the crew has come down with the flu or something, so if that’s all I was called away for, then you need to learn to suck it up and quit whining.” Mike couldn’t seem to control the laughter at my expense while Mel just turned to head back in the direction she had come from.

“She’s something else,” Mike muttered, clearly in awe of the woman as she strolled away as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Yeah, she is. So, quit eye-fucking her, asshole.”

Mike laughed again. “Man, she’s like a sister to me.” He turned a glare my way. “You need to make that shit right,” he warned.

“I’ve been trying. She won’t accept my apology, or even listen to one.”

He scoffed at me. “She doesn’t have to accept your apology. After seeing this pathetic display, I kind of understand why.” He fucking laughed at me again. “Maybe you should try candy and flowers instead of crybaby papercuts.”

“Asshole! I sent her some fucking flowers. She threw them away. I wrote her a note, which she also tossed in the trash – unread. I sang her a song. She said she didn’t want to see me unless I was bleeding to death,” I admitted.

“So, you thought a papercut would get you enough facetime to what? Stare at her? You didn’t even really say anything. You let her tell you off and walk away.” He shook his head. “Up your game and use your words, man. You’re a songwriter. There has to be some game in that noggin of yours, right?”

I was going to be 38 years old in a few months, and honestly still had no clue how to handle women, especially the ones who were mad at me. John’s summation of my life came back to haunt me then. He was right. I’d never really tried with Kendra. I’d never given any effort to any of the women I’d been with since. The hard truth of that was none of them inspired me to want to do those things, step it up, and make sure that they kept coming back. Mel though, I’d do just about anything to have her smile at me again. To hear her laugh. To feel her next to me. Fuck!

Unfortunately, there was no time to formulate a new plan because trouble walked backstage in the form of Wen’s wife and she had Alyssa in tow behind her. This couldn’t be good. The fact that Dusty Rose had to come back for the rest of the tour had most likely, finally, made the rounds and got back to Janet. “Where is he?” She shouted the moment she saw me standing there in the hall, yelling at Mike. She hadn’t see me yet, but when she did, all that anger was redirected toward me.

“I know he put her up to this!” She shouted at me. “My Alyssa has never gone against what I wanted, and now Wen is in her ear and she’s telling me that she wants to go live with her dad?” She was fuming and looked about ready to blow a gasket.

“Janet, how about you calm down and let’s put Alyssa in a dressing room while we go find Wen. I’ll put security on her door so that you know she’ll be safe.”

“Safe!” She screeched. “You think my daughter is safe around a rock star and all of this?” She threw her hands up to indicate the backstage commotion.

“You married a rock star, so you obviously thought the life was safe enough,” I argued, tired of Wen’s wife disparaging our profession. She’d been doing it for years. Her resentment of his time away, and lack of love for her, had always made the business her proverbial whipping boy. That was when she wasn’t just using her anger to whip Wen into doing whatever she wanted. The one thing she couldn’t get him to do though, was to give up his career. He’d offered, once upon a time, and we’d gone on without him for a year. A year in which Janet realized her finances suffered for his loss of touring income. Then he was free to come back, so long as he could stand to listen to her complain.

“Get him here now.” She seethed, the words like verbal venom to my ears. “He needs to deal with this,” she told me while shaking their daughter, whose arm she had in a vice-like grip.

I grabbed the walkie from Mike and keyed it up. “We need Wen, Mel, and security to medical immediately!”

“Security? And who is Mel? Is that his new slut? Did he replace Calista while she was gone?”

“No, Janet. Mel is our nurse, and she’s going to need to take a look at the damage you’re doing to your daughter’s arm.”

“I’m not hurting her!” Janet screamed.

“Yes, you are,” Alyssa sobbed.

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