In Rhythm, page 8
He hadn’t realized his shoulders slumped until he pulled them back. That she’d seen his first show back infused him with pride.
Tekko groaned. “Freakin’ festival management scheduled us at overlapping times or I would’ve been there.”
“It’s cool. Glad you stopped by.” Zazzle prepped some wheatgrass and the juicer blared to life again. He handed Tekko a serving of green juice and turned to Velvet. She scrutinized his every move. “Where’s Candy? I heard you guys played tonight.”
“Yeah, we did.” She cleared her throat. “She’s with LED. We’re meeting up later.”
“Sweet girl. Please let her know I said hi.” Zazzle ushered them over to a small couch. “You guys wanna sit?”
“Sure,” said Tekko.
Velvet. “We should get going. We don’t want to disrupt your routine. It’s important to you. If you’re keeping up with it, you should keep on doing that.”
“I’m keeping to it. I appreciate your concern.” He couldn’t keep the bite of resentment from his voice. As Zen as he was, he still didn’t like being monitored. Plenty of people, including his medical team, had him covered.
“That’s great. Like Joe said. Do your thing,” Velvet repeated.
“Where are you guys playing next?” Zazzle’s question expelled from him as if he held his breath.
“Candy and I will be in Belgium.”
“Nice,” Zazzle encouraged. “I expected you guys would be on the main stage, given your popularity last year.”
“Not yet.” Velvet shifted her weight to her opposite hip and her scooter tilted toward the same direction.
Zazzle was unsure what part of what he said agitated her but something obviously did.
“Velvet’s tunnel vision is focused on Temptation’s main stage.” Tekko’s features contorted like he still tasted his juice.
“Temptation voting will be coming up in the next few months. Still willing to give up an eyeball for it?” Zazzle asked, unable to filter the mischief out of the question.
Velvet lost her fight to smother her smile. “Yeah, but we’re working for it, too.”
“And your album? I remember you and Candy were getting ready to work on it when we first met.”
“You remember that?” she asked.
“I remember everything about that night, Asha,” he said. The slight lax in her scowl gave him hope. Perhaps she couldn’t keep her shields up forever. There was still, however, a long time between now and then.
Tekko arched an eyebrow at him.
Velvet cleared her throat. “We’re wrapping up the album this month. It’ll be out soon.”
“Looking forward to hearing how your sound is evolving.” Zazzle’s hands went to his hips then he crossed his arms.
Her smile knocked him back.
“If you need anything, I’d be happy to help. I’d just have to work around my schedule and routine so—”
“I think we’re good, but I’ll let you know. Thanks.” She gripped the handlebars on her scooter a little tighter and he didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“No problem.” He tried to get a read on where their connection stood. In addition to choosing drugs over Velvet, he’d been away for months. The night they met, their relationship had soared so fast that some of the initial activities never happened. He never got her number or wined and dined her at a fancy restaurant, unless beer, cheese, crackers and fruit counted. And though every inch of her body, from her lips to the soft skin of her inner thighs, haunted his memory, he missed laughing with her, arguing with her about music and holding her against him.
Everything fell apart the night at the Egyptian. Then he went to rehab and was now in lifelong recovery. He could only imagine what she thought of him. Would he ever get even a smidge of that magical night with her back?
He sat with the disappointment of missed opportunity and exhaled to move the stagnant air in his chest. He’d done it all to himself but now had to breathe through the guilt and shame of what he’d done. He wanted forgiveness but he hadn’t earned it back yet.
“You guys playing Inferno Fest?” Tekko interrupted his thoughts.
“If things work out. Apparently, Maggie’s not getting a good vibe from it.”
“I heard it’s supposed to be the festival of the century but there’s too much chatter about it,” Tekko said. “I’m undecided.”
“Boombox pulled us out,” Velvet offered.
“That’s something to consider. Boombox normally has his finger on the pulse of it all. Ultimately, it’s up to Maggie and the other members of Tres Armadas.” Zazzle’s vote in the group counted for very little these days but he’d relay the information he got from Tekko and Velvet about the festival. The last thing they needed was to be a part of something that might not be what it seemed.
Velvet pulled her phone out of her back pocket and then muttered something inaudible to Tekko.
“We’re gonna head out, man,” Tekko said and gave him a handshake and hug. “Check you at the next one.”
“Take care, Zazzle. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”
Velvet’s parting words coasted on grim undertones that savored of finality. As she walked her scooter out, he didn’t want to believe that to be the case. Before she ducked out of the area, and with a purse still fixed upon her lips, she looked back.
* * *
Alone at the hotel, Zazzle showered and packed his bags. They’d be flying out tomorrow and headed for Spain. With Maartin and Christian partying with their friends on the last night of the festival, he longed to be out and see people he hadn’t seen in months, but at what cost?
He quelled the impulse to go out and rub shoulders with the drug crowd he’d, so far, successfully avoided. He’d worked too hard to jeopardize his progress. The fight to keep with his new lifestyle and routine, as the opinions and feelings of others came into play, was a fight worth winning.
The day had gone as well as could be expected. There were no scuffles to break up between him and Christian, and he wasn’t being scraped off the floor of some club because he’d sniffed, popped or pounded back too much fun. Being exhausted took some getting used to without coke to liven him up and anytime he got anxious he sipped his tea. Not bad for his first real day back on the performance track.
He jotted down his day in a journal and focused on the feelings he experienced and when. When he met with his therapists and clinician, he’d share the contents with them. His recovery was another full-time job on top of being a DJ/producer with Tres Armadas. The fluffy hotel bed called his name.
He was about to lie down when a knock sounded on his door. He opened it and Maartin stood before him.
Zazzle swung the door open to allow Maartin to come in. “Checking up on me?” Zazzle asked in Dutch.
“Yes.” Maartin strolled in and closed the door behind him.
Zazzle may have been annoyed by Maartin’s forthright response but the human contact made him feel less alien in an environment where he’d once dominated.
Zazzle spun in a slow circle. “See? No drugs, alcohol or women.”
“I didn’t think so. I just wanted to know how you were doing, emotionally. You’ve been alone most of the time since you’ve been back.”
“I’m fine.”
Maartin raised a brow.
“Okay, so I don’t like being alone. I don’t have much of a choice right now.”
“People are glad you’re here, Isaak. That must count for something.” Maartin sat in a desk chair.
“Most people are waiting for me to fuck up again. My old suppliers are hovering in the wings and hoping I’ll join the party again.”
“Not all.”
“There’s you and Maggie. At least you both have been encouraging.” Maggie had cleaned up a lot of his messes in the past, yet she supported his recovery and since he’d come back tried to bridge some of the distance between the three of them.
Maartin frowned. “I thought they taught you to have a positive outlook in rehab.”
“They did, among other things. I’m just skeptical. I’m not quite willing to let down my guard.” Zazzle’s predictions for the future didn’t include him ever completely letting down his defenses, especially if it saved him from himself.
“Let’s see what you got in here.” Maartin moseyed over to the minibar and opened it to find juice, sparkling water and sports drinks. He pulled sparkling water from the fridge. “Want one?”
Zazzle referenced his teacup. “Are you checking to see if I’m harboring booze?”
Maartin shrugged.
“I wasn’t dependent on alcohol. I drank because of the drugs.”
“But wouldn’t that then create a dependency on alcohol?”
Maartin’s genuine curiosity allowed him to be honest. “Touché, but my doctors don’t think I’m at risk for alcoholism,” Zazzle said. “I’m not willing to test that theory yet and no one needs to know or else they’ll just shove booze at me.”
“True,” Maartin agreed. “Hey, speaking of Maggie. She wants to meet with us tomorrow. She says it’s important.”
“Yes, I got her message.”
“I thought you were no-tech?”
“Only when I’m meditating, the rest of the time I’m low tech,” Zazzle clarified.
“I can’t keep up with this EMET regimen you have going on.”
“It’s EMETAH,” Zazzle corrected and reminded Maartin of its meaning.
“Yeah, that stuff.”
“Thanks for the support.” For all of Zazzle’s fuckups, Maartin still took the time to learn about the routine he strictly adhered to.
“Want to watch a movie?” Maartin asked.
“And braid each other’s hair?” Zazzle smirked. “No thanks. Maybe another time.”
Maartin chuckled. “How does it feel being back?”
Everything from the time he got on the plane from his home in the Netherlands to landing in the UK moved so fast. He hadn’t even really had time to let the performance sink in and settle. “I’m not sure I’ve really wrapped my mind around it. People weren’t complete dicks to me. Some were even pleasant to reconnect with, like LED and Tekko.” And Velvet. “The fans... They were amazing tonight.”
“They make it all worth it, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” Zazzle loved the fans but he’d lost so much time. He had so much to make up for.
“But?”
“There’s a lot for me to fix.”
“Fix?” Maartin wrinkled his nose.
“I left you guys to handle a lot of my shit. Questions from the media about my whereabouts. Money left on the table with canceled performances. Disappointed fans. Rumors. I can go on.”
“Yeah, you did. But you can’t expect to fix everything. Not everything is in your control. Just be the best DJ and business partner we need you to be, Isaak. That’s your only requirement. The rest will take care of itself.”
“Do you think Christian would agree with you?”
“You know, you don’t only have me and Maggie. There’s also Christian.”
“The same Christian who neither came to visit me or called when I was in rehab?” Zazzle scoffed. “You’ve always been a good friend, Maartin, but no, I don’t have support from Christian.”
“You’re wrong, Isaak.”
“Am I?” Zazzle pressed. Christian had all but abandoned him over the last year when his addiction had reached an all-time high. It wasn’t Christian’s job to save him, but he’d fought with him instead of being the one thing he needed. A friend. Instead Christian chose his ambition.
“Yes. He’s your friend. The sooner you both remember that the better off we’ll all be.”
“I know what’s going on. Christian can no longer hide what he wants and you’ve seemed to resign yourself to the outcome.”
“And what outcome is that?”
“That Tres Armadas is done. You want to go home to your family and Christian wants a solo career.” Before Zazzle had almost overdosed a few months ago, Christian had thrown more than enough hints that he’d outgrown the group. They’d been best friends growing up in the Netherlands but Christian’s betrayal was like a disease that got worse every day with nothing to heal it—or him.
Maartin sat back and crossed his arms. “Is it any surprise to you? You better than anyone should know that Christian was destined to evolve and move on from Tres Armadas. I’m surprised we’ve been together this long, to be honest.”
Zazzle’s behavior and jealousy had only added vinegar to the wound between them, and accelerated Christian’s need to distance himself from the trio. “I know I’ve done damage and now that I’m back we can get back to being the Tres Armadas we used to be. I can help us quiet the naysayers.”
“Zazzle—”
“Are you really ready to pack it in? To turn down the music and leave during our biggest moment?” he asked Maartin.
“If we disband it doesn’t mean that we can’t still make music and be popular in a different way.”
“Yeah, well, Christian already has that covered.”
“Get off it, man. Don’t forget your contribution. You let drugs into your life and addiction run you.”
Zazzle sat on the bed. “I did and I’ve paid the price. Haven’t I? I’ve lost so much time. Missed so many amazing things and now you guys want to end it before I get a chance to reclaim our spot.”
“You keep talking about reclaiming our spot. Zazzle, we’re the most popular DJ trio and the highest paid. What more do you want?” Maartin asked.
He wanted to experience it. “To be present for it and not high out of my mind.”
“Time is the one thing you can’t get back,” Maartin stressed. “Look, nothing has been decided. You’re back now and better. Take things one day at a time.” Maartin sighed.
Zazzle nodded.
“This routine of yours is quite strict. How long do you think you can manage it?”
“As long as I need to in order to stay sober.”
“The diffuser is a little much at times.” Maartin stood up.
“I’ll lower the setting,” he said.
“And the meditation pillow?”
Zazzle clutched the sandalwood meditation beads that hung around his neck and prayed for patience with his bandmate. “The meditation grounds me. I can sit in a chair but I prefer the floor.”
“And the juicer?”
Zazzle hung his head. “What? You’re pulling my leg now. You don’t like my smoothies and wheatgrass shots. They’re good for you.”
“I’ll pass,” Maartin said.
“It’ll make you last longer.” Zazzle pointed to his dick. He laughed at the intrigue on Maartin’s face. The man had enough kids and though Zazzle didn’t want to think about it too much, sex was the least of Maartin’s problems.
“How would you know? Have you been fucking around?”
He frowned. “Not lately.” The truth was, he was scared shitless of replacing one addiction with another and sex was high on the list of possibilities. He didn’t want to fuck his way out of drugs and alcohol only to have to go back in to rehab to get his dick to behave. For now, he abstained.
“That’s unhealthy, man. Get laid, will you?”
“I’m good for now.” Zazzle lifted his left hand.
Maartin laughed. “I saw Velvet with Tekko. Them two an item now?”
“They’re friends. I think.” Zazzle had been so involved in his routine he hadn’t even considered that Velvet and Tekko might be together. He’d have to dig a little deeper.
“You liked her very much before everything happened. Before you started using the night at Temptation, you couldn’t stop carrying on about this magical fairy you met and how she changed your life and how brilliant and amazing she was, not to mention how unearthly sex felt between you two.”
“I said all that?” Zazzle blushed so hard he swore steam vapors floated from his skin. He still liked Velvet much more than very much.
“Yeah, you did.”
Zazzle’s head hung. “I’ve ruined my chances with her by the way.”
“Helaas Pindakaas!” Maartin’s curse translated to too bad. “Are you sure about that? I think she’s fucking cool and her music knowledge rivals mine for someone so young.”
“No, but after seeing her today? Pretty sure.” Zazzle thought about how Velvet’s flat tone and scrutinizing gaze had all but slammed the door on reconnecting to what they shared months ago. Yet there were hints that maybe the slightest possibility existed. “I don’t know. I have to get to bed.”
Maartin shook his head. “Running from your one true love, are you? You’re in recovery, Isaak—not in hiding.”
“Hiding will keep me out of trouble.”
“Not all trouble is bad.” Maartin flickered his eyebrow.
Zazzle pondered Maartin’s words. “If it is, I don’t want to find out the hard way.”
Chapter Nine
The next day, in their Brussels hotel room, Velvet patted Candy’s back as her grief-stricken friend lay sprawled across the bed with her head buried into a pillow. “4am eats” with their friends never happened, and the time necessary for Velvet to download her interaction with Zazzle had fled as the proverbial shit had hit the fan.
Last night when Velvet had received LED’s cryptic text, all kinds of alarms had gone off.
Come get Candy.
When Velvet had received the message, she’d been with Zazzle and working on keeping her own emotions in check by cranking up her judgment to the highest setting. LED had ghosted them most of the festival, and though Velvet had had her suspicions, she’d never expected this.
When Velvet had arrived at LED’s hotel room in London to get Candy, her friend had paced while LED sat motionless on the bed. Before she could ask questions, Candy had snatched her to leave. The next morning they flew to Brussels.
