Failing Upward Ch. 15

Les hummed the theme song to Gilligan's Island as he made a detour, turning into McDonald's. I counted the greasy smudges on the take-out window as he paid for his number three value meal. I didn't get anything. My stomach was churning enough already without a Big Mac and coke. My legs were jumping like I was wired with caffeine. Les pulled out onto Michigan Avenue, and I pushed down on my knees to stop them from bouncing when he nailed the brakes, and I heard our tires screeching. The car in the far lane stopped the same time we did. My arms didn't react in time-- my nose smacking the dash board.

"What the fuck?" I hissed, holding my nose. "That's what I get for not putting on my seatbelt."

"Had to slam on the brakes--" Les said, chewing on a fry. "Damn cat just crossed our path." He reached for another limp fry then pointed to the black cat skittering off the side of the road. He looked at me sideways. "You ok? How's your nose?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but I bit my fucking tongue, too."

"Probably tastes better than this quarter pounder with cheese."

I wasn't one to believe in bad omens, but that fucking black cat had me nervous. Shit.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, just old country side roads littered with potholes. We pulled into the back lot of the Road House and started to unload our equipment from Les's back seat when Les looked down at me and laughed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You better rearrange that bulge," Les pointed to my crotch. "People will think we're in love..."

I blushed as I looked down. Damn tight leather pants gave everything away.

"Shit," I said, jumping around. "It's the sand--"

"Ha-- that's a new one," Les grinned.

"No seriously, it's the baggie with sand in it." I squirmed around, trying to shift the contents of my pocket.

I heard Lynn's squeal too late. My body lurched forward as she jumped on my back, wrapping her arms around my throat like a boa constrictor. I dropped my guitar case.

"Fuck Lynn, you're choking me!"

She mussed my hair before letting me go and giving me a noisy kiss on the cheek.

"Can't wait to hear you play again, baby."

"Yeah, I can't wait to play either." I smiled wide and giggled. She was a beautiful sight. Tight white linen skirt with sling backs. All bounces and bubbles with her hair perfect, lips bright. I thought she looked like she'd burst any moment from excitement. She teetered, beaming beside me.

"You look great," I said. "Special occasion?"

"Well of course it is!" she said, hitting me hard in the shoulder making me drop my guitar for the second time. "You're playing-- you nimrod!"

Damn that hurt. I massaged my shoulder and picked my case back up.

Lynn followed us through the back door, chattering animatedly the whole while. I tried to pay attention to what she said, but I was too distracted. She was so much, wah, wah, wah.

He was already there. I walked in and saw him. Sid leaned against the wall to the right of the stage, talking to Jimbo.

He hadn't noticed me yet. Sid laughed at Jimbo. I sighed. Christ, Sid looked handsome. Flannel shirt, slow smile and faded jeans. His smile became mine as he turned to me. I waved him over, and I wasn't sure why. I just wanted him near.

Uncle Dan sat at the front table with a glass of beer in his hand watching. He didn't approve, but at this point, I didn't give a shit. Aunt Glenda hadn't come. She didn't like smoke or drunks. I could tell by the way he was watching, she'd expect a detailed report from him when he got home. Uncle Dan. I'd never get used to calling him my that. He just didn't look like anyone's uncle to me... not mine for sure.

I bent down and opened my case. My palms were itchy and sweaty.

"Help me?" I asked.

"Sure," Sid answered, raising his eyebrow as he looked down, "but first explain why your face is flushed and smeared with lipstick, and why you've got a raging hard-on."

I wiped my cheek, sputtering.

"Fuck, I... Lynn... I mean... she kissed me... I mean... Oh, fuck!" I felt my face getting hotter and hotter. "It's not me-- it's sand in my pocket. Damn. Want to see?!"

"No, that's quite alright. I've seen enough," he said, waving his hands in front of his eyes.

"Hey, you're enjoying this!"

"Yeah, well, you're so damn cute when you're flustered."

Sid helped set up. My stomach did somersaults and hand springs every time he brushed my arm or leg. Cripes.

------------------

The first set went by fast. I joked and jumped around on stage. Les, Uncle Dan and Sid never took their eyes off me, waiting for my transformation. I did well at first. Songs I didn't know, I faked. I couldn't keep it up though. By the second set, I was so anxious, I started forgetting a lot of the lyrics and riffs I did know. I wasn't sure if it was me or being watched every second like I was going to disappear in a cloud of smoke. As the set ended and we walked to the side of the stage, Les pulled me aside.

"You alright?" Les asked.

"You can take a break this set," Smith suggested, tinkering with his earring. "Get yourself together. No pressure.You're still not yourself."

I shook my head and said, "No, I want to play. I have to..."

Shit, not myself, Smith didn't know how close he was. John rubbed my back, working out the tension between my shoulders, "You'll get over the first night back jitters before we finish."

I threw back three gulps of water and poured some over my head. Fuck it was hot in here tonight.

I shook the water out of my hair as I stepped out with the guys to play again. My fan club cheered me on as I picked up my guitar. Lynn, the leader, bounced wildly-- waving, blowing kisses, and grinning at me. The sand had shifted again into a big bulge. I felt like that heavy metal rocker who shoves a sock down their pants to impress the ladies. What's his name? Axl Rose?

I was wired. Sweat dripped off my nose and my hands were slick from both the heat of this close, hot place and raw nerves. By the time we neared the end of the third set, I felt confident. Les belted out the first words to "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and I nodded at Sid, sitting with a strained smile on his face. The dance floor filled in seconds, blocking Sid's table from my view. There wasn't a space left on the floor by the time Les got to the second verse. I noticed the entire band was in their own little worlds. Les was immersed in the story of the song-- eyes closed, fingers effortlessly gliding on his Fender. Smith smiled lazily, watching Les. Jimbo winked at his new significant other, who sat watching us at the side of the stage. John strained his eyes looking through the nuts to butts, searching for that special someone to take home after the show. Someone long on legs but short on brains. And me-- I listened to Les's perfect vocals, and in the back of my mind I decided it was time.

The place smelled of sweat, beer and cheap cigarettes while Les sang:

The other night I dreamt of knives, continental Drift divide. Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs. Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You Symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? right

And I stepped up beside him and sang into the mic, my face pressed into his, our voices melding:

It's the end of the world as we know it It's the end of the world as we know it It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine...

The hairs on my arms stood on end as I took a shaky step back, counting one, two, three.

I closed my eyes and whispered the only thing that would come to me, "There's no place like home." My right hand dropped from the guitar. I open and closed my fist. Silly, honest, pain churned in my gut as I hiccupped nervously, then stretched the leather of my pocket with the fingers on my right hand, reaching, reaching, reaching in. I heard my harem fan club in front of the stage howl as I groped deeper in my pocket. I knew Les's eyes were on me. I felt the bag. Nothing like feeling myself up in front of the crowd.

The clapping hands, stomping feet faded. I struggled to open the seal on the baggie. I slipped one finger, unlocking one corner, reaching into the sand. Behind my eyes, I saw it glitter or imagined I did. It clung to my damp fingers, becoming a part of me. I couldn't smell the cigarettes or the beer or the sweat anymore. Instead, the room smelled like ozone after a storm. Then I heard Sid to my right calling my name. I opened my eyes, and I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I was in Pontiac.

With a jolt I saw an ocean of bodies, swaying in front of me. My eyes adjusted. The sparks of light from the sand turned to hundreds of lighters flickering. They were everywhere-- high, low, thrust up into the seats like twinkling stars in the night. The last notes from the song still lingered in the stadium, and the rhythmic applause vibrated the floor of our stage. I was frozen.

It worked. I was back.

Smith turned to me, frowning, then raised an eye bow wondering what the hell was wrong with me. John and Jimbo looked to me, and I realized they expected me to speak-- do something. Les stepped next to me, linking his arm through mine where my hand was in still snug in my pocket. My face was hot. Les pulled me forward, hugging me next to him. The chanting, my name and the band's name, the syllables expanded like ripples. I listened for the one voice I wanted to hear. My head turned slowly to the right when I heard it. Sid stood by amps.

Dressed in a suit and tie.

Hands in this pockets.

Jingling his change.

Smiling.

For me.

He knew. He knew it was me.

I laughed and cried, hugging Les. Then I turned to the crowd. I waited my whole life to play in front of an audience this size in this place. I'd been here so many times, and dreamed of standing in this spot on stage. Playing the Silverdome. Shit. And I missed the whole show. Waving my candy apple red Gibson above my head like a flag, I heard Les shout above the crowd.

The stadium quieted.

"You win!" he hollered. "One More Song," and the place erupted. He cupped his hand to my ear and yelled into it, "Good to have you back."

He pinched my cheek, then took one step back.

"You're on!" he nodded.

I panicked.

"But what are we playing?" I yelled back.

"What are you crazy? You're playing 'One More Song'... " he waved, bowed, then stepped back beside Smith. Leaving me. Center stage. Alone.

For the rest of my life, I will never forget that split second of terror.

I blew on my fingers then wiped the sand off on the front of my legs. I smiled at Sid, then I struck the first chord. I sang the words to this song I'd written for him. Only for him.

My soul gave the best performance of my life.

------------------

Afterward. Cosmic. Surreal. I was hustled backstage, through the corridors, out the back entrance, into the tour bus. No Sid. He'd disappeared. Smith and Les were already curled up together in the back. I sat in the seat in front of them.

"Might as well relax," Les whispered to me. "It'll be a few minutes."

I leaned my back against the window, threw my legs across the seat and waited, watching the front of the bus.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

"Off to the hotel. We're staying at the Hilton. I think it's near here..."

"Near here?" Smith mumbled, opening an eye and looking at Les. "It's fucking across the street."

I rubbed my pocket and tried to get comfortable as possible.

"Throw me one of your pillows," I said, looking to the front of the bus again. "This window is hard."

"Mmm, need something soft to lean into?" Smith said. "Sid'll be here in a few. He's just making sure everything's in order for tomorrow night."

I nodded. But I still watched the front of the bus, waiting.

Sid was loosening his tie as he came up the steps, his soulful hazel eyes meeting mine. Smith nudged my shoulder and laughed but my eyes never left Sid's as I swung my legs off the seat and watched him walk down the aisle.

He stood in front of me, chin quivering twice as he sat down. He pressed his lips together tight, composing himself. His eyes smiled. When he touched my arm, it was all over with. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him so tight he groaned.

"Geeze," said Smith, "you think you hadn't seen him for months or something..."

Sid and I both looked at him and laughed. The bus started to move.

----------------------------

I fidgeted, standing in the corner. The elevator doors at the Hilton whooshed shut, and it lurched up.

"How safe is this thing?" I asked, pressing my hand flat to the wall and looking up at the ceiling. Not that someone invincible should worry, but shit, it might be painful falling five stories.

"This is a four star hotel. I'm sure it's safe. Want to test it?" He gave me a wicked smile and punched his finger into the red button labeled 'emergency only.' The elevator lurched again-- this time to a stop. He slammed his body into me, thighs inching mine apart, toes mashing into my instep and cheek pressing hard into my forehead.

"God, I've waited for this..." he moaned, his mouth covering mine. His tasted like cinnamon Life-Savers.

Time stopped. I could feel every inch of him-- and I mean every inch-- as he ground me into the corner. I whimpered as he took his mouth from mine. I pulled on his tie with one hand to bring him in tighter, closer. "I've always wanted to fuck on an elevator..." he whispered into my ear then licked it, sending heat straight from my earlobe to my cock. He teeth tugged on my ear as his hard cock rubbed into my growing erection. "Sorry we don't have enough time for that." I yanked his tie again as he broke contact; his nose bumped into mine. "We'll have to wait until I get in you in the room for me to do you proper."

"Fuck--" I moaned, watching him lick his bottom lip. Then he kneeled in front on me, grabbing my hips, rocking me forward so that I had to throw my arms out against the sides of the elevator to brace myself. His hands slid up my calves then pressed on up my legs, caressing my inner thighs, cupping my balls. My legs buckled as he absently brushed my cock and reached for the zipper on my leather pants.

"This will have to do," he said.

I thought I'd come right there.

"Jesus--" He pulled my cock out, already hard and anxious to feel the inside of his mouth. I looked at the top of his sandy head, his eyelashes fluttered. I could see his nose twitching. God I'd missed this view.

I leaned back into the corner as I felt the sloppy, slick grip of his mouth. His teeth scraped lightly against the head of my dick. His head jerked a bit as we both heard voices above us. He knew he didn't have much time to tease me. He grabbed my ass and thrust me hard into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. With quick, hard thrusts, he made it his goal to make me come fast. His mouth was urgent. The voices from above became louder. I looked down and saw those perfect lips around my cock and that was it for me. My thighs tensed.

I came in his mouth as the elevator jerked up.

I think it was evident what we were doing in the elevator. Sid was wiping his satisfied grin and my come off his mouth when the door opened. I barely had time to put my dick back in my pants and zip them. I knew the moment I saw my uncle's face go from a look of concern to annoyed that he was pissed.

Sid hustled me off down the hall to our room. I didn't look back once.