Page 22 of Caught in a Storm
Billy hasn’t seen the clip from the MTV Video Music Awards that she’s referring to in years. He was watching it live that night, though. At first, when Margot kicked her drum kit off its stand and pushed her cymbals over, he thought it was all part of the show. Everyone did. Confusion set in quickly, though. Before cutting back to a stunned-looking Chris Rock, who was the host that year, the camera moved into a close-up of Margot’s face as she stood over the wreckage. Her eyeliner had just started to run down her cheeks.
The New York Post put the angriest picture of her they could find on its cover the next morning. “Margot Hammers Away.” Rolling Stone chronicled the event later that month, detailing the band’s immediate split and Margot’s separation from Lawson Daniels. Billy and Robyn had recently broken up. The apartment they’d shared above Charm City Rocks—their apartment—had become his apartment. He remembers feeling sad for Margot—this famous drummer on whom he’d had such a silly crush—because he knew what it was like to have something important be so suddenly over.
He takes a bite of his pretzel. “Well, welcome back,” he says. “We’ve missed you.”
A police boat zips along the inky black surface of the harbor, and Fells Point buzzes behind them. He’d stop time here, too, if he could, because it’s a perfect moment. But then Margot says, “Well, thanks for the pretzel.”
“Oh, of course.”
He implores himself to say something else. Use your words! he thinks. Finally, he manages, “We could get another beer if you want. Beth didn’t make me pay for that IPA I ordered for you, so I still technically owe you one.” He tries to laugh, to make it sound casual, because it’s embarrassing how badly he wants her to stay.
She stands, and he stands, too. “Thanks. But I should go. I think I’m gonna grab that cab over there.”
Billy has sometimes wondered over the years if there’s anything he could’ve said to make Robyn stay—some insight, a bit of hapless charm, some promise he could’ve made that would’ve saved them. He wonders the same thing now, too. Unfortunately, like then, he doesn’t have much. “Well, if you’re ever in Baltimore again…”
Margot Hammer is already walking away. She steps off the curb, jogs toward the dented yellow car outside 7-Eleven. Billy watches her climb into the backseat. He waves as the cab passes, but she’s not looking at him. One headlight burns brighter than the other. Then she’s gone.
* * *
—
Fells Point is its typical Saturday-night obstacle course of humanity. Billy dodges an Uber, waits for drunk people to pass, smiles politely at someone’s dog. Police officers stroll by, keeping tabs. Couples hold hands. Someone is clearly smoking weed nearby. Teenagers speed across cobblestone on rented scooters that they will almost certainly crash.
The lights at Charm City Rocks are dim, because the place is closed, so he doesn’t notice Grady and his wife, Patty, standing in the doorway until he’s practically on top of them. “Hey, Billy,” says Grady from the shadows.
Startled, Billy nearly trips over a crack in the pavement.
Patty is wearing her jean jacket over her favorite Dolly Parton for President T-shirt. “Got a sec, Billy?” Her voice is somber, and Billy gets that this isn’t happenstance.
Grady looks at his wife and then at the ground. “Patty, can’t we do this some other time? Tomorrow, maybe?”
“Grady, no. We went over this.” She’s taller than Grady, even more so than usual tonight, thanks to her wedge heels and the softball-size bun at the top of her head. “Billy, we’ve been trying to get on the same page with you about this apartment thing. You’ve been avoiding us.”
She’s right. He feels bad for ducking them, but he chalks it up to denial.
Down the block, people are gathered outside the Horse You Came In On, as if at any moment Margot Hammer might return and blow the place up again.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this,” says Grady.
“Will you stop apologizing?” says Patty. “It’s our building, Grady, and this is our business.”
“It’s okay, G,” says Billy. “Patty’s right. I’m here. Let’s talk.”
People walk around them on their way to and from bars, and Patty sighs. “You’re a good friend, Billy. You always have been.”
“A great friend,” says Grady.
“But this is a good opportunity for us. And your lease expired like ten years ago.”
In truth, Billy never had a lease. He and Robyn signed a napkin once, but that was mostly a joke and probably not legally binding. “I get it,” he says. “But does the neighborhood really need another coffee shop?”
“It’s a new revenue stream for us,” Patty says. “Music downstairs, coffee and pastries upstairs. Little sandwiches, too. We’re still working out the details.”
“Charm City Grinds,” Grady says. “Get it? Synergy. You can come by whenever for a coffee or a fancy latte. On us.”
Patty puts her hand on Grady’s shoulder. “We’ll discuss that.”
Through the front window, Charm City Rocks looks ramshackle in the low light. “Aren’t record stores dying?” Billy says. “How can you be expanding?”
