“You
play that song one more time and the smart speaker is goin’ out the window and
you’re getting tossed after it.”
To make sure his twin got the point,
Tripp jabbed the knife he’d been using to dice garlic in the direction of the
nearest window, grimacing when garlic bits rained on the floor. Scowling like
an evil imp, Winter told the smart speaker to shut up and commenced singing the
song himself.
“Sometimes I really hate you.”
“You’ve been saying shit like that to
me ever since you could talk.”
“That oughta tell you something right
there.”
“Yeah, that you’re an uptight prick.”
“And you are a reckless bastard.”
“Whatever,” Winter grumbled and went
right back to singing that damned song. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t he have a
moment of fuckin’ silence in this damned house? Slamming the knife down into
the chopping block so he wouldn’t be tempted to stab it through his brother’s
heart, Tripp whirled on him, two steps away from strangling the hell out of his
twin when his phone went off.
“What!” he bellowed the moment the
screen lit up.
“Well merry fuckin’ holiday to you,
ya miserable fuck!”
Rolling his eyes, he shoved the phone
in Winter’s direction only to have his brother skitter away, still singing the
damned song.
“Take it!” Tripp hissed.
Winter just shook his head and danced
off.
Growling, Tripp stalked after him. “Talk
to him.”
“You talk to him!” Winter shot back
before resuming the song.
“One of you talk to me!” Tavis
bellowed, his voice echoing through the kitchen.
“Fine!” Tripp snarled into the phone
while he prowled across the kitchen for a Lysol wipe to clean the floor.
“Would ask how things were going in
what’s supposed to be our downtime, but judging from the way you’re all wound
up, I’ll go out on a limb and say you’re getting on each other’s nerves again.”
“How can there be an again
when it never stops!” Tripp growled. “Now what do you want?”
“To see what you thought of the
little idea Jesse and I have been cooking up. See Wild Child is desperate to
find a new bassist and we’ve come up with a plan.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tripp
silently bemoaned the decision to leave the ringer on. “Why do I doubt I’ll
like the sound of this?”
“Because you’re a skeptic and a
hypocrite, but one hell of a guitar player so we love you despite a few
frustrating flaws.”
“I don’t have time to stand here all
day and listen to you give me shit.”
“Then sit your ass down and grab a
notepad while you’re at it, we’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
In his haste to retrieve a notepad
and pen, Tripp stumbled on the folded over edge of a rug he’d repeatedly asked
Winter to find a new spot for.
“Dude, be careful before you hurt
yourself.”
“Be…” Sputtering, Tripp could only
wave his arms around in frustration, since the only god damned person that was
going to get him hurt in this place was his crazy ass brother and the
mismatched collection of what the fucks he’d collected from flea markets
and thrift stores across the country.
Paper flapped as the notepad sailed
through the air, bounced off the coffee table and landed on the floor with a
splat. The pen at least landed on a cushion. His damned brother didn’t even
glance at the floor as he glided across the room, gracefully avoiding the same
spot that had tripped Tripp up.
Grasping around and damn near
bobbling his phone, Tripp nearly missed the couch in his effort to smack his
brother in the back of the head with an orange he threw at him. Of course,
Winter just laughed harder and wandered out of the kitchen again. Tripp could
hear him rummaging around in the den, a sound soon followed by the blips and
laser fire of some kind of video game.
Rolling his eyes, Tripp cast his gaze
in the direction of the wooden entryway and the wind chimes he was forced to
duck every time he passed through it.
Who the fuck hung chimes in the house
anyway?
His twin, apparently, a fact that
Winter took great pleasure in tormenting him with. If only he’d kept his mouth
shut the first time Winter had hung one. At least that one had been in
an out of the way corner. He hadn’t understood why until the first time the
heat had come on and the chime had tinkled lightly when the air made it sway.
Winter had hung one in the bathroom
too, right in front of the window, which he was constantly leaving open. The
result was that every breeze made the chimes clank together, sometimes
violently on the nights the winds truly kicked up. For something that was
supposed to be soothing, it drove Tripp to distraction sometimes, or maybe it
was just that his brother liked it and would soak in the tub for over an hour
listening to the breeze rock it instead of telling the smart speaker to play
music like a normal human.
“Okay, I’m sitting, my supper will
apparently have to remain raw a little longer.”
“It’s all for a good cause, I assure
you.”
“It better be, I skipped breakfast.”
“So, nibble a graham cracker and open
your ears. Don’t try telling me you don’t have any when Winter said you have
s’mores at least three times a week when you’re home.”
Huffing, Tripp yanked the drawer open
and snatched the package from inside.
“Thank you. Now, they need small
shows, we need some soft runs on the new material, so I was thinking…”
“No, hell no. Fuck you for even
thinking we should go back on the road again. I just got a new couch. We
haven’t even broken it in yet. Not a single divot.”
“Thought that’s what you and Winter would
be writing the new songs on.”
“We have, doesn’t mean we’ve made a
suitable imprint yet.”
“Okay, guess we’ll put off working the kinks out. Too bad. Jesse suggested we invite Riley and his crew to give them a chance to work on their new material. I hear Dez and Zakk have almost two albums worth of material. It’s a good idea, if you ask me. Oh, and get this, Saint’s Seduction reached out to Dez, again, and tried to get him to come back and play for them. The way I heard it; he never took the call. James gave them the flat ‘no’ Dez had conveyed to him the previous time and hung up on them.”
“Can’t
say I blame them; the guy is talented.”
“If you think so, why do you two end
up foaming at the mouth every time you’re in proximity to one another? I can
practically hear you snarling from across the room.”
Tripp sighed, ‘cause he’d asked
himself that for a couple of months now and what he kept coming back to was a
relationship he didn’t know what to do with.
He was jealous.
Not of anything musical when it came
to Dez’s ability and experience, but of the man himself and the time he spent
with Zakk. Even the knowledge that Dez was dating Riley didn’t dull the
possessiveness he felt towards a man he was barely lucky enough to see six
times a year.
Wait…
Something clicked in his brain, along
with a voice telling him to stay the fuck outta his own way before he fucked
things up, again.
“Are you saying it would be us,
Tattered Angel and Wild Child?” Tripp asked, excitement beginning to surge
through him.
“Yup.”
“And who the hell would book that
insanity?”
“James and Russ are raring to be
unleashed on the project, but there are a few hiccups to iron out.
“Like?”
“Who would headline?”
“We’ll rotate, everyone should be
good with that.”
“Band members are, a few of the
venues are not.”
Why did it sound like he was chewing?
He’d better not be eating anything good after the way this conversation had
derailed Tripp’s meal.
“Hey, did you hear what I said about
the venues?”
Tripp pulled the phone away from his
ear, scowling at it for several seconds before warily drawing it close again. “My
ears were working just fine until you bellowed in them!”
“Then pay attention, damn. Now, what
do we do about the venues.”
Grumbling beneath his breath, Tripp
tried to figure out why he was being asked to problem-solve for an issue he
wasn’t completely on board with being a part of yet. Still. It would
provide plenty of opportunities to spend time with Zakk. “Okay, so, we give them what they want and
schedule the rest of the rotations around it.”
“Good idea on the surface, but when
you see the emails I sent you about the locations, you’ll see why the issue
came up.”
“Yea, okay, I’ll take a look. Next.”
“Besides the animosity between you
and Dez?”
Tripp waved his hand in the space in
front of himself, even though Tavis couldn’t see him doing it. There were only
two ways that would get sorted. A civil conversation or a knock-down, drag-out
brawl. Either way, it would get laid to rest. “We’ll work it out. What other
issues are we looking at?”
“Timeframe, for one. We’re all over
the place when it comes to that and how close together we want shows. We’re fluctuating
between thirty-to-forty-five-minute sets with fifteen-minute tear downs, but if
we all help that shouldn’t be a problem. Everyone’s good with campgrounds where
that is a viable option, but we need a plan for when there isn’t one that will
provide a place to park three RVs.
“Yeah, that could pose an issue, albeit
a small one. Hell, all of them seem minor and easily worked out.”
“Maybe, but you said no way in hell,
so I’ll tell them they’re on their own.”
“Don’t be too hasty.”
“Why? Thinking about changing your
mind?”
“I think I already have.”
“Really, so, what brought about this
change of heart?”
Leaning back against the back of the
couch, Tripp peered up at the ceiling and made a mental note to climb up there
later and get the cobwebs down from around the ceiling fan and dust the blades.
In hindsight, getting the plain wooden one because it was just like the ones in
the house they’d grown up in had seemed like the best idea. Now, he found
himself wishing for something more interesting to stare at. Like the metal
feather and stained-glass raven one Winter had installed in his room.
Why had he objected again?
The answer came to mind almost as
soon as he thought of the question. His twin had come up with it and as a rule
of thumb, Tripp had gone in a different direction, not that it was necessarily
a better one. Judging from the lack of words and increased chewing coming
through the phone, Tavis was waiting for his answer.
“I happen to agree that testing the
songs before a live audience would be the best way to polish them,” Tripp
admitted. “We can make note of their reactions to each song and tweak them
accordingly.”
“And if it so happens that in the
process of all this refining you get to spend extra time with a particular
keyboardist…”
Tavis left it open-ended rather than
suggestive and Tripp appreciated the restraint because Zakk’s name made his
stomach clench and memories of him splayed out on Tripp’s bed, pale skin, black
sheets…
“Tripp, hey! Tripp! You still there?”
“Are we done?” Tripp growled as the
image in his head broke up and drifted apart.
“Apparently, you’ve already checked
out so yeah, we’re done. Tell Winter to stop ditching my calls.
“He doesn’t listen to me on a good
day, what makes you think he’ll listen to that?”
“Well, if we’re going to do this
tour, then he and I need to talk.”
And there it was. The real hiccup in
their little plans, the rift that had opened between the two just a few months
after Rocktoberfest. Small at first but widening with each day they didn’t
speak. Currently, they were on day ninety-seven and counting and it was making
crafting new music difficult.
“You ready to tell me what went
sideways between you two?” Tripp asked as he retrieved the broom from the
kitchen supply cabinet and tried to brush away some of the crap clinging to the
ceiling fan. It worked, sorta. The blade looked less disgusting, but his hair
and the couch would need to be cleaned next, considering that was where the
bulk of it had wound up.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t figure you would but I had to
try. Goodbye Tavis.”
He didn’t wait for a response, he
just hit the disconnect button and tossed the phone in the fruit bowl. “You can
come out now, he’s off the phone.”
Tripp was just about to get back to
his cutting board when Winter sauntered into the room humming the same god
damned tune Tripp had specifically told him he was sick of.
“You
need to grow up!” Tripp snapped. “We’re not getting any younger, yet you act
like we’re still back in high school, playing games with guys, switching
places, pretending we’re each other so we can tell someone we’re trying to
ghost that we’ve never met them before.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“It’s all of our concern when the
issues between the two of you mean we may not be able to go on the road until you
fix them.”
“Did it ever once occur to you that I
might not want to go back to living out of an RV? That I might want to spend a
couple years just living, or else what are we making music for? I want to
travel and take the time to see things, go off the beaten path, get lost in a
forest or desert for a little while.”
“Are you trying to say you’re tired
of making music?”
“I’m trying to say that I’m tired of
that being the only thing I do. There are six of us, pare down the tone of the
next album, go with five, we’ve performed that way plenty of times. Truth be
told, we should have cut down to five a long time ago. Now you can consider it
done. Problem solved.”
Sputtering, Tripp leapt up from his
seat, the sweeping motion of his right hand sending an onion and his garlic
bulb flying across the room.
“Did you just quit our band?”
“Yes.”
“The band we put together all the way
back in high school?”
“Yup.”
There was zero expression on Winter’s
face. It was like he was bored, and they were talking about which fast food
place to order from. Not only did he look completely indifferent, but Tripp was
beginning to get the sense that his brother didn’t care what he thought of his
little declaration either.
“So, you are seriously standing there
telling me that you are pitching twenty years of music and memories into the ether
on a fuckin’ whim.”
“Not a whim,” Winter shot back, confirming
yet another suspicion Tripp had been in the middle of forming. “I’ve been thinking about it since right after
our last album. I just don’t love it the way I used to. I thought it would get
better, it didn’t. If anything, it’s gotten harder to do this.”
“Is that what you and Tavis had a
falling out over? Did he know what you had planned?”
“Nope, you’re the first to know. “
“Did you ever intend to tell me?”
“Yup.”
“When? Were you waiting for us to
pack up the RV or were you holding out until we backed down the fuckin’
driveway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a part of me
kept hoping I’d feel different. Maybe I knew you’d be pissed, and I wasn’t
ready to deal with that.”
“Oh, I am beyond pissed right now,
Winter. I’m done! You want to quit? Go! Get your shit and kick rocks.”
“Tripp…”
“Did you hear a question or any sort
of opening for conversation in anything I said?”
There was a time when locking eyes with his twin was like peering into his own soul, now those glittering hazel eyes looked like they belonged to a complete stranger, someone Tripp wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Bleeding Dawn can be found on Amazon here!
Another place they differ.
Tripp would kill for one season to slow down. Just three months where he and Zakk could melt into obscurity and be whomever they wanted, together. Only Zakk’s band, Tattered Angel, is on fire too and it’s starting to seem like the music he’s always loved is hell-bent on keeping him from exploring love of a different kind. Last year’s Rocktoberfest was an amazing triumph, this year, it’s starting to feel like the road to the desert is burning him alive.
Would be so easy to slip off across the sand, melt into a dune on the back of some strange, psychedelic serpent, never to be heard from again. If only there was a way to ensure Zakk took that last ride with him.
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