Page 395 of Rock Me All Night
There's something about the way Tom says it. Like he wants me to ask about it. Like he's desperate for someone to ask about it, to show interest in Tom Steele, human being, and not Tom Steele, famous drummer.
I move closer. "You dropped out of high school?"
He nods. "Had to deal with some shit, missed some school. It was easier to study for the test than go back." His posture stiffens.
I consider asking what it was he had to deal with, but the mood is still light, and I want to keep it that way. I nudge Tom. "You still haven't told me how the band started."
"Started with Pete. He must have been twelve or thirteen when Mom fostered him. The kid had nothing but this beat up bass guitar. It was the only thing in the world he cared about. His dad, before he died, was a jazz musician. That's how he picked it up."
"How did you pick up drums?"
"One of my foster parents had a drum kit in the garage. Played on the weekends in some KISS cover band. I needed something to do. At first, I liked making enough noise to piss everybody off. But the drums are the soul of the song. They carry the rhythm. It's the one place where I'm in control of shit, where the world makes sense." Tom gets a far off look in his eyes. "A lot of people think bass is a less cool guitar, but it's really part of the rhythm. Me and Pete create that together. It was the first way we ever connected. I know it sounds hokey—"
"That's how I feel about photography. The world makes sense when I'm behind the camera. I see things I don't normally see."
"The stuff you shoot with Hazel or something else?"
"I love doing portraits, any kind. Even the sexy ones we were shooting in your hotel room."
Tom looks me in the eyes. "You're good. You should go after that when you're finished working with Hazel."
"Maybe. I don't know. I want to, but—"
"But what?"
"I'm not really good with people. Being a photographer is all about dealing with clients. It's intimidating." I clear my throat. "It seems easy for you."
"It's a skill. You can learn how to work with people. Just takes practice."
He's really listening, but I don't want to talk about myself. I want to hear about him. I want to know everything there is to know about Tom. "You had the rhythm figured out. Then..."
"So impatient." He smiles, teasing.
Again, I stick my tongue out at him.
"You keep doing that, I'll get ideas about better uses for your tongue."
"Do you ever get ideas that aren't about sex?"
"My secret." He nudges me with his shoulder. His gaze goes back to the stage. "Guess someone has to entertain you." He shifts back into his story. "Miles and I were in the same school for a year or two. I was sleeping with a girl he was dating. I guess she was two-timing both of us. Don't think either of us cared much about her, but honor demanded we let our fists settle things."
"Could just let the girl decide."
"Wasn't about the girl," Tom says. "It was about being the man."
"But what does fighting prove?"
"Still don't know. Seemed like the only solution at the time."
"You get into a lot of fights?" I ask.
"Not anymore. But back then? Got into a fight every other day. Miles too. We beat each other pretty bloody before the principal broke it up. The next day, Miles comes by to say he dumped the girl, but I fight pretty good. He'd heard I was in a band. He'd written some songs. Acoustic stuff. Mostly about how his dad was a piece of shit. Wanted to put a band together. For a while it was just me, him, and Pete. Then Miles move up to Malibu, and we fell out of touch. I had a lot of shit to deal with." His eyes cloud.
I swallow hard. The same shit he referred to before, no doubt. I consider asking about it but there's something about his expression that tells me he's not in the mood to retrace those memories. "How did you guys get back together?"
"It's quite the anti-climactic story. Miles poured all the pain in his heart into his guitar and his singing, only he couldn't play guitar that well."
"You really throw down the insults."
