Chapter 27: Drummer Boys Drum

The video is cool drum cover of a classic...Fire By Jimi Hendrix....look at the speed of those sticks! I hear this is a challenging song to play on drums due to the pace and the change-up rhythms...

Bodie

I beat out the anger, the frustration, the shame, the guilt.

I beat away all burdens.

Until I am the vibration beneath my sticks.

There comes a point when I feel like me again. That's when I put on headphones and my favorite drum-along playlist, close my eyes, and lean in.

I play past the pain and into joy.

I end with a neurotic repetition of Jimi Hendrix's Fire, playing it at least ten times. Damn that's a good song. Not only does it have great drums, and a great grungy guitar solo, it's got soul. Leed would do a great job with the vocals.

I finish with a flourish, toss my sticks and pull out my phone.

I share Fire with the Soundcrush thread with the text:

We should work up a live cover of this.

Trace is the first to reply:

That's a good damn song for a summer festival. I'm in.

Leed follows in seconds:

I dig it.

Then he quotes the lyrics of the song, altering them slightly:

Move over Rover, and let Leed take over.

Adam:

I'm always down for a classic.

I wonder what Mac will say, because the original song didn't have keys. She's apparently down in their studio, because she sends an audio recording of a very psychedelic organ intro she just improved. Then a text:

I can work with that.

Adam:

Groovy intro, Shortcake. Hey...do you know where Lennon's yellow pacifier is? She likes that one the best.

Mac:

RJ ate it.

I hit back:

I know I'm out of the loop, but who is RJ?

Adam sends a picture of what looks like an adolescent golden retriever:

Rex Junior. Blake's dog.

Mac:

Blake's dog? You mean your dog? That your sister fronts for you as her son's dog?

Adam:

No, you said we shouldn't get a dog until we slayed newborn parenting.

Mac:

I said that, yet RJ is here more than Blake's house.

I laugh. Feels like old times. Madam has been high-jacking text threads since we were planning our first gig.

Adam:

Yeah, I don't know why that is.

Mac:

Because...

You feed him

You play fetch with him

Every time you take Lennon for a walk.

Adam:

Well, he misses Blake during the day...

Trace:

MADAM. GUESS WHAT?

YOU LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE NOW.

BICKER FACE TO FACE.

LEAVE THE REST OF US OUT OF YOUR  MUNDANE MISERY.

Adam:

Hey don't yell.

You'll wake the baby.

He sends a picture of Lennon snuggled against his chest.

Leed:

Awwwwww, I miss my Cheese already.

Mac:

You just left here two hours ago.

Leed:

Two hours is a long time to be without Cheese.

Trace:

Dude. Are you texting and driving?

Leed:

No, I'm (Ashlynn) texting for him.

Hey, Bodie...

Before she finishes her thought, I text back:

Hey Sunny...

She texts:

Leed says only he can use my nickname

But I give you a special pass.

Anyway, we are on our way to Atlanta.

Leed wants to drop by to see your new place.

Is it a good day?

I calculate their rough ETA. Yeah, it gives me enough time to apologize to Marley for acting like a douche earlier, and hang for a little while with Darius, who is coming over after school.

I hit her back:

It's always a good day

To bask in the Sunshine.

I figure from the lack of punctuation, Leed has snatched the phone and gone speech-to-text when he replies:

dude for real stop flirting with my woman just cause Bells is getting straight in detox.

I rub my jaw. I guess I failed to mention when I saw them in Nashville that Bells and I broke up. I decide just to let that ride. If I start with explanations, it might lead to confessions. I can't tell them about Marley and Darius right now. It's best to keep all that between Marley and me.

I text back:

Sorry.

Guess I'm feeling like me again

First time in a while.

Mac:

You mean like a big sexy flirty buttery yum-yum?

Trace:

Mac, I always knew you were hot for Bodie

TBH

I never could figure out

why you went for Adam

when Bodie was on the table...

Adam:

That's because you ain't ever had a taste

of THIS MAN RIGHT HERE

Trace:

Pass.

Saw enough of your bare hairy ass in college...

College reminds me. I text rapidly:

Speaking of college days, get this shit...

Marley was at UGA the same time we were.

She saw us play at the coffee-house.

Adam:

Are you fucking kidding?

Why didn't she say something?

Trace:

Well that's obvious.

No Doze was our first set of gigs.

We probably sucked.

Leed/Ash:

Leed says he has never sucked.

Mac:

He ALWAYS sucks

Harder than a professional.

Leed/Ash:

Leed said something that I refuse to type.

Mac:

Oh Pollyanna, I love you so...

Back to Bodie's shocking revelation...

It seems Marley was always a SC fangirl, huh?

Bodie is the only rock star available

To fulfill her fangirl fantasies...

Adam:

He's not available.

He and Bells are just on hiatus, right?

Or is it a break-up?

Mac:

Oh come on Preacher.

Are you actually shipping Arabodie over Barley?

I thought you loved Marley.

Adam:

I'm not shipping shit-all

I'm simply promoting forgiveness

And loyalty during hard times.

Trace:

Bullshit

You are covering your ass.

You are chicken-shit to be pro-Marley.

I'm not.

Bodie should keep her around.

She's very cool and helpful.

I almost don't hate Ross anymore, thanks to her.

Adam:

Look I LIKE Marley, but

Mac?

I didn't think Marley was your favorite...

Mac:

Marley has never sexually assaulted you.

I'm not tryna hate, it's just...

Trace:

Facts

I sigh. I can't really blame Mac for hating Bells, but it's not my place to tell Bell's secrets and struggles.

Leed/Ash:

Leed is ridiculous. He wants to call a band vote for Bodie's girlfriend.

Me:

You guys do know

A) I'm still reading this

B) Marley is my label/management-mandated sobriety companion, not a fangirl or potential girlfriend

Mac:

A) I forgot you were here on this thread. Cause you've been missing so long

Leed:

Burn.

Mac:

B) Sobriety companion=vice cop=wife

I don't care what Riley says

Logic proves that Marley is your wife.

You can't have a wife and a girlfriend.

You need to get rid of your girlfriend, Bodie.

Trace:

Hold up.

Now I'm confused

I was pro-Marley until that.

But I have to recommend eliminating non-sexy wives in favor of sexy girlfriends.

Mac:

STFU Trace, your ex-wife is sexy as hell.

Leed/Ash:

Facts

Trace:

Wait, was that Leed or Ash saying that?

Leed/Ash:

Both.

Trace:

Shit

I wasn't saying Ash isn't sexy, I was saying...

You know what?

I'm out before I get into real trouble.

Bodes, Grammy rehearsals with Skids Marcs first week of June.

Me:

I'll be there.

Leed/Ash:

We'll be to your place around 7?

Me:

Great.

Adam:

Stay strong, brother.

Mac:

Love you Butters, see you soon.

Me:

Love you too, Macaroni

Kiss my god-daughter for me.

Mac:

Come kiss her yourself, anytime.

We're just a day-trip away.

Bring your sobriety wife

You haven't broken in your bedroom yet.

Me:

I'm just gonna ignore that last part

I'm a grouchy mess right now.

Prolly need to hang here a few weeks

Until I'm fit for company.

But maybe a weekend next month.

Adams sends a thumbs up, and Mac's sends a stream of kissy emojis.

I sit at my kit a few minutes, looking around the basement, coming to the realization, maybe for the first time, that I have a new residence. I mean, yeah, I signed the paperwork yesterday and in fit of irritation that there wasn't even a glass to use for water, I tossed my phone at Marley and barked at her to order kitchen and household shit on my amazon account and have it overnighted. Then a little later, in a fit of restlessness, I called Andy and barked at him to order me a kit and some basic keyboards, guitars, and amps, but other than that, I haven't spent any energy thinking about what this place means.

It could be so much more than a temporary house to squat in for the next year.

It could be a real home. Maybe not just for me. Or for Marley and Darius.

Maybe for all three of us?

And I'm starting off shitty, treating Marley like the hired help—barking orders, demanding things and hiding down here in the basement while she slaves away upstairs.

Okay, let me channel Varrick and plan three moves.

I accomplish the first with a phone call.

The second involves me jumping into the sea of Amazon boxes and bubble wrap with Marley.She says nothing to me, just hands over the box cutter. We make short work of the unpacking.

The third is harder, but the most important: apologizing to Marley.

"I'm sorry," I say mildly, in the middle of breaking down a box. "For the way I got angry this morning. For the way I stomped off. You didn't ruin the moment. I did."

She smiles. "I accept your apology. I'm sorry, too—for pushing you. I realize now that's a topic we definitely need to space off for a more formal session, and only if you are ready to talk about it."

"So..." I give her my best smile, "We're good?"

"We're good," she affirms. "I know your transition is affecting your mood. Anger is sometimes a part of life."

"And death," I mutter, breaking down the last box.

"How do you feel now?" she asks. "Still angry?"

I shake my head, tossing flat boxes into a pile. "No. The drumming drained all that. Then I texted with the guys a little bit. Now, I feel like...me. But it's a little weird, too...I also feel a bit like a stranger. Like I forgot who I was for a while, but now I remember."

Marley steps up on the pile of boxes. "Your band mates are really important to you, aren't they?"

"More than I can really say. I never felt like I belonged anywhere, until I belonged behind the Soundcrush kit."

She bouncing slightly like she's testing the box pile's  stability. I automatically reach out a hand to her elbow, in case the pile slides sideways on her.

Up on the boxes, we are eye to eye as she says, "I'm so glad they are your family. It is okay to have more than one. You don't have to choose. You know that, right?"

The way she says it...she could be talking about me and my mama, or maybe even me and Bells, but I don't think so. I think she means me and her and Darius. That she would support me, being a music man, living so much on the road. Hopeful heat unfurls in my chest as I try to come up with something mild to say. "Yeah. I get that."

I put the boxes on the street for recycling pick-up.

When I return, Marley is boiling water in a teapot.

"Hey,  Leed and Ashlynn are rolling into town to visit her parents today. They wanna come by later..."

She smiles. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, me too. It will be good to see Leed without Bells drama...or band drama...or...drug drama..."

"They all go hand in hand, don't they?" she murmurs, bustling in the cabinets for mugs.

"Dr. Watkins, is that a judgment against Arabella?" I ask mildly. Trace...or Adam...must have filled Marley in on Arabella's very bad decision to jump Adam while he was asleep. And possibly her subsequent overdose.

"No."

I give her a raised eyebrow.

She laughs. "Fine. That was a swipe at your girlfriend from your Babymama. I never said I was perfect..." she says a little defensively.

"Ex-girlfriend," I reiterate.

"Ex girlfriend whom you are still perpetrating a media relationship with," Marley corrects.

I roll my eyes. "Not by my choice."

"Have you heard from her?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

"Just once. She's through detox, but she hates rehab. I don't think she'll stick it out."

"And if she leaves..."

"She won't be living here," I say firmly. "She might visit and tip off the paps for publicity, but she won't be living here. I promise."

Marley nods slowly as she opens another cabinet.

"Which kind to you like?" she gestures at the several tea boxes neatly stacked.

"The kind that is actually Canadian whiskey in a teacup," I joke.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Well, which do you think you might like?"

I pick out one with ginger and lemon. She pours the water to steep.

I examine the cabinets, learning where she put all the dishes, groceries and supplies. "Thank you for doing this. You didn't have to."

She shrugs. "I didn't mind. Actually, I liked it. It was fun."

"It was fun to unpack a fuck ton of boxes?"

She offers me a cup. "No. It was fun to get all new stuff to use."

I smile, knowing exactly how she feels. I felt the same, the first year of having real wealth. But like everything in life, you get used to it. I'm incredibly grateful for the breathing room my wealth gives me, but the thrill of buying shit for myself has worn off. The thrill of buying nice things for my family, however, is still very much there.

"So," I begin, pulling at a bar stool and sitting with my tea. "There's probably a lot more stuff we need, to get this place up an running. I'll help, but really you're the lady of the house, you get to decide how it runs. Get what you want, what you need. Don't use your own money."

"I have plenty of money now, Bodie. I can shop for more groceries and a coffee maker and a vacuum cleaner..."

"Don't use your own money," I reiterate. " I'm going to get this home started up and running right. Consider it the beginning of my long overdue child support payments."

"Bodie, it's fine. I don't mind buying things for us to use here. I don't want to ask you for money for every little thing."

"You don't have to ask me for a dime. Do you remember Penelope, our band PA?"

"Yes, I met her at the Call Out."

"Right. She's been in Nashville lately, helping with Madam's move. I called her a little bit ago. She's gonna come down in a few days and get our business in order, okay?"

Marley's expression is blank. "Our business in order? You mean like...financial stuff? It's way to soon to be worried about child support, Bodie."

I sip. "I don't mean, officially or anything. Right now it will just be...a casual arrangement, okay? For the household. Penelope will get all the automatic bill paying organized. I've asked her to set up a joint account for us to use. The account will be debited with a generous monthly stipend from my funds. Spend it anyway you see fit.  on the house, on you, on Darius. Groceries, toiletries, supplies, redecorating, personal care, clothes, entertainment, Darius' tuition, school needs. Whatever. If you want to hire some help--someone to come in and cook and clean daily—just let me know. I'll have Penelope handle salaries, NDA's, all their employment concerns."

"Bodie...that's a lot of trouble and expense . You need to be focusing on yourself right now."

"It's no trouble. It's my responsibility. Darius is my son and I should have been there helping in every way from the start. "

Marley smiles into her cup. "Okay. Thank you for the set-up. I mean it. Thank you for everything. I wouldn't take any of Daemon's money that he would send to me via Sixers, because I knew it was dirty and I couldn't risk laundering money ever again. And TJ and Pat have had their own financial woes, just like all working folks. We live okay, don't get me wrong...but I have big student loans for grad school and Darius' private school tuition. I've been living paycheck to paycheck for as long as I've been working. So the plan you're laying out, it's taking a lot of financial pressure off me. That means I can use most of my salary to get my student loans paid off quickly. I really appreciate it."

"Don't even worry about that. Give Penelope the balance. I'll pay it off."

"No, Bodie...school was my choice,  my debt, my responsibility. This is a lot to take in, Bodie," she whispers looking down at the table. "Look, I hate to say this, but what if we are wrong? I believe he is, but what if Darius isn't actually your son? It feels...wrong, to take so much help from you, on the assumption."

I bite my lip. We're not wrong—I know that. TJ confessed to me he switched the DNA samples. Darius looks just like a Jamison. Hell, even Pat knows the truth, she just won't admit it. Yet I hold back from giving Marley the full disclosure. She has so much trust in TJ,and I can't bring myself to hurt her by destroying that trust.

"We're not wrong, Marley. You feel it, and I feel it, and he looks just like my grandfather. He's my son. Tell me you still believe that."

Her eyes are happy as she looks me straight in the eye and say, "I do believe Darius is your son. I know he is, actually. I just feel..."

"Don't feel anything but entitled to the funds I'm offering."

"I...I can't think about that right now," Marley says, squaring her shoulders. "What we should be thinking about is the more immediate future. How to organize your first few weeks of sobriety. You do need a routine, at least to start, Bodie..."

"I like routines about as much as I like tea without ice and sugar..." I pull my tea bag out and stare at it. It looks gross. Who drinks this shit? Marley laughs at my expression and plucks it from me, tossing it in the trash. I take a tentative sip. Yeah, it tastes as grungy as the tea bag looked.

We talk a for awhile about exercise and music and eating and meditation and yoga and journaling. I laugh at some of her ideas, but only kindly. In the end I agree to workout in the mornings and make music in the afternoons for sure, and download a meditation app to try.

"So what are we gonna do with the long nights, Dr. Watkins?" I tease her.

She gives me a stern look.

"I'm being serious," I laugh. "If we don't plan some activities we might fall into bad habits."

"Oh my god, you are such a flirt. You actually can't help yourself at all, can you?"

"Nope. Not one little bit."

She rolls her eyes but her grin betrays her.

She likes me flirting with her.

She tries to tuck away her grin as she considers my question. "Well, we can use the home theatre upstairs to watch movies."

"Good idea," I agree.

"And we can read. You do remember how, right?"

"Oh, you gonna dog me like that? Pick a damn book, woman. We'll see who finishes first."

She pulls up a crime novel currently on the bestseller list on her phone, and I press my hand around hers, ordering two copies with two quick clicks.

"Hey!" she elbows me, but she's grinning. "Get out my phone, boy!"

I release her phone, surprised at how shitty it feels for the warmth of her fingers to fade from mine.

"What?" I scoff. "I saw your salary. You can afford to buy me a book."

Her face grows solemn as she searches mine. "Bodie...me, being here... it's not about the money. Not about my salary, not about child support for Darius...it's not about that at all. I hope you know that."

I squeeze her upper arm lightly. "Girl, I know that. I told you, I understand why you took the job. Why this needs to stay professional..."

Except I don't. In this moment, feeling her skin, so close I can smell her shampoo—unfortunately not jasmine, but still some nice citrus scent—I can't remember at all why this needs to stay professional.

"Look..." I jerk her chair over to mine as I pull out my phone, scrambling in my brain for something, anything to show her to keep her this close. "Here's another thing we can do for fun at night..." I murmur, thumbing up my own Amazon account.

My heart thrills as she leans against me to see my purchase. She makes the sexy snorty laugh. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm serious. Leed and I play all the time. To pass the time on flights, and bus rides, mostly. Trace is pretty good, too. Mac and Adam are always too distracted by lusting or fighting to focus on a board game."

Marley makes the laugh again. "Rock stars play backgammon on their private jets?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm. Well, I mean, when we aren't getting in-flight massages. Or lap dances," I joke.

I see her hand twitch like she's going to slap me on the chest again.

Go 'head, girl. You know you want to.

She doesn't. She folds her hand into her lap and parrots back a sarcastic, "Mmmmm-hmmmm."

"You play?"

She shakes her head, "No, but I can learn."

"Damn right, you can learn, for the kind of money you are making."

This time she does whack me.

Goal!

"Nuh-uh-uh," I wag my finger in her face. "No slap and tickle, remember?"

"Boy, you better move that finger out my face before you lose that finger." She's giving me a slow eye blink and a head wobble as she pushes my finger aside and shows me the hand.

I tsk at her and take her by the wrist, precisely rotating her hand out of me face. She lets me, but her face is a mask of faux attitude that makes it very hard for me to contain my laugh. "Oh, now you gon' act all sassy. Woman, don't make me bring my gangster to jump all over your Jasmine-"

The door bell rings at the same time I get a doorbell cam notification.

We look down at my phone.

"Mother—" Marley groans.

"Fucker," I growl.

What is Daemon doing here?