My Bloody Idiot

I could not and I’ll repeat – COULD NOT- believe I had gotten so stoned that I offered Brian one of our guest bedrooms. I thanked God he refused, but somehow he ended up moving in anyway. How? My mum found out about his... uhmm... circumstances and she insisted. More than forced an ultimatum upon him – either he moves in for now or he’s not getting any studio time. Harsh, but here’s the thing – when Jude Clarke sets her mind on something, there’s no changing it.

The same happened with her and my dad. Everyone with at least one brain cell floating through their skulls told her not to go after the douchebag of a front man which he happened to be at the time, but did she listen? Of course not. She jumped with her arms wide open in that shit-show they both called their marriage. Don’t get me wrong, I adored my parents, but... one at a time. They both were rockstars, one worse than the other. Of course the only thing linking them together was the undying love for strippers and alcohol.

As the time went on - the only thing they shared together besides the same last name used to be the never-endless child custody disputes. After I became of legal age, they met very rarely – only when my dad figured his life had become too dull and he came to Orange County to throw a tantrum over something about the label.

Here’s the deal - my father used to own a fair share of stocks on Liberty Records until he sold them when Liberty Records hit rock bottom. He was straight up certain that Jude Clarke would flush the corporation down the drain, but instead she pulled the business out of the shit hole both of them had put it in. My mum held the majority of shares standing tall at sixty percent and the rest went to the other guy. I had never been interested in running the business, I was in it for the music and that’s it. I dreaded the day when mum will step away and leave it all to me.

My eyes squinted on my laptop, where I had opened the pro tools to try and improve the mixing I had left half finished for one of the new bands Justin and I were co-producing. I figured if I can’t go to the studio, I could as well try and work from home. „Okay... Why isn’t the compression on?”

Usually Justin was the one to sit by the mixing board all hunchback, while I was watching over the whole process, throwing in some idea’s, helping with song writing and other kind of bullshit nobody gave credit for. But... I wouldn’t say I was a clueless chipmunk. If the need arose, I could mix a song, I just didn’t like to spend the whole night on a song where chances were the band will simply throw away.

I plugged in the speakers to my laptop and hit ‘play’ as I went to the kitchen to make myself a good, steaming, tasty mug of coffee.

The song was good, but it lacked something and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what exactly.

I rubbed the back of my neck, narrowing my eyes on nothing in particular. A song had a very early Avenged Sevenfold sound. My eyes raised to all those guitar’s right above the tv set. „What if...” I muttered as I walked out of the kitchen zone and walked across the living room just to try and balance myself between the armchair and the tv table as I picked one of the Schecter’s off the crimson wall.

I was no Slash when it came to writing solo’s, but I think I could jam along the song well enough to get the idea across. Just as I was about to plug the guitar to an amp who happened to be just laying around, the front door opened.

The loud music seemed to slap Brian in the face. Well... not my fault, he didn’t have to be home that early. But...

„Come ‘ere!” I waved him over just as the song ended. The confusion in his face was beyond any words. He placed his dark guitar case by the couch and shoved that fresh set of house keys in the pocket of his leather jacket.

„What’s going on?” He demanded confusedly as I shoved the guitar in his arms. „You know, a private gig starts at two grand... Even for you...”

„Shut up,” I said simply as I walked back to the coffee table, to lower the volume and hit the play button again. „That’s a sweet riff, right?”

„It’s upbeat,” Brian agreed, placing the guitar on the ground and boosting himself on it, „Seems like a typical party song...”

„You know what would make it sweeter?” A big smile spread across my face, „you playing a solo.”

He frowned as a confused smile raised up the corners of his lips, „Okay?”

„Just imagine, a couple of bends, a couple of those ridiculous triplets and you have yourself one badass solo,” I explained a little too enthusiastically if you ask me. Was almost on a verge of losing my cool. I sat back down in front of the laptop.

„I’m not up for charity work, Clarke,” He said as he placed the guitar on the couch right next to me. I arched an eyebrow as I looked up at him. That’s not what he said the other day. „Besides I don’t even know the band, why would I play a solo for them?”

„You do know them.” I said carefully. „Burn Halo? Vanity Lounge? A stripper named Diamond?”

And just like that – his frown turned upside down. A devilish grin took over his face. „Those were the times...” He seemed to get lost in his dreamland of dirty strippers giving him lap dances and a couple of STD’s in bonus, before he returned to the real world, his face clearing suddenly, „Wait... how the hell do you know about it?”

„Seriously?” I asked unamused, before I took the guitar myself, „It’s Liberty Records. Word travels fast.”

„So now you’re gonna play it yourself?” He pointed to the black Schecter in my hands.

„Well who else is gonna do it if you’re being a bitch about it? I mean... God... Is it so hard to lay down a template?” I sighed as I hit the play button. Yes. Again. „You live in my fucking house, and you can’t even help out... Typical Brian, always the taker – never the giver—„

„Wait, hold up. A template?” He exasperated as he came closer and yanked the guitar out of my hands. „You want me to record a template for them?”

„Of course...” I took a deep breath. „Wait... Did I offend you? ‘cause I promise, this wasn’t intended and I can do so much better...”

„Shut up and pass me the pick,” He hissed pointing towards the red plastic triangle on the coffee table. I knew it will work. The egotistical bastard couldn’t stand not being in the spotlight. He wanted for me to beg, which I have never done nor will I ever do. I handed him the guitar pick and he quickly started jamming along the song.

I would be lying if I said he didn’t know what he was doing, ‘cause apparently he did. He put his soul inside even that little fifteen second solo like nobody else I knew could. I admired him. Musically of course. Outside music, he was a douche.

As soon as we were done recording the template and I had finished my coffee, his eyes fixed on me.

„Hey, Clarke?” Brian spoke up just as he had put down the guitar.

„Yeah?”

„Do you regret anything in your life?” Slowly almost hesitantly I turned my head towards my ex. Well there were a couple things, like that awful Chinese tramp stamp I had to cover up, but I figured he wasn’t willing to hear about my ink.

„Yeah,” I sighed heavily, leaning back in the couch, „Producing Lostprophets would take the cake for me.”

„Lostprophets?” He questioned sitting down on the armrest of the beige couch.

„They were a pretty big band in the UK a couple years ago,” I explained, remembering the whole incident and lawsuits against the vocalist of the band, „Turned out the front man was a sick pedophile and is now doing 35 years in Warwickshire’s finest establishment.” The big frown was prominent on Haner’s face. I thought everyone knew about it by now, but maybe the band haven’t been as big as I believed it to be. „I can’t believe I put out a record with my name on it...” What sucked the most – we had in fact created a fucking amazing album. „I still can’t listen to any of the songs, although I liked them. A lot.”

„Was the whole thing really that bad? I mean I haven’t even heard of the band.”

„We’re talking child sex crimes here. Heck, not even a child, but an infant. I read the case and I kid you not, it made my stomach twirl.”

„And that’s it... That’s the only thing you regret?” He insisted.

„Well yea... Of course there have been a couple of stupid tat’s I had done, and then the relationship with you, but other than that...” Something in him changed. Something that confused me, it seemed like I had touched a tiny little heartstring of his... Like he was hurt or something. „Listen, I don’t get why we are suddenly having this heart-to-heart.”

„You’re right.” Slowly he stood up, before he went to pick up his guitar case, „Just forget about it.”

„Done,” I shrugged as I leaned closer to the laptop to save what we had just created. Just as I was about to get up from the couch and ask what would he like for dinner, I heard the front door slam shut. My head jerked to the side to see Brian had up and left. „I didn’t even say anything insulting...”

I remember he told me to keep my hormones in check the day I arrived here, but it seemed like his hormones were all over the place right now.

But only a second passed until the door-bell rang. Why the fuck was he ringing the doorbell if he had a key? With a heavy sigh I pushed myself up from the couch and went to open the door, instantly getting blind by the afternoon sun.

„Uhmm... What the hell are you doing here?” An oddly familiar feminine voice... an oddly familiar feminine silhouette.

As soon as my eyes had grown used to the brightness, I saw Jennifer standing in front of me in her full glory. Somehow I got angry with myself for being such a hot mess while everything she had on herself – was on fleek. „I could ask you the same, but I know you have trouble with words, so I guess I’ll answer the only question you know how to pronounce. I live here.”

„Uhmm... no. Syn lives here.” She frowned. Look at that, her little sprockets had started to turn.

I smiled one of my infamous make-believe smiles, „He’s a temporary nuisance and if you’re looking for him, you just missed him.”

It was a matter of seconds before she fished out her iPhone from her expensive looking purse, „Where did he go?”

„How the hell should I know? I’m not his secretary, although...” My eyes landed on his car which had been parked next to mine in the driveway. If he’s without a car, I’d say he couldn’t be far, „You could always try to torment people with your stupidity next door.” I pointed towards Matt’s house. It was unlikely he’d be there since I think they weren’t talking, but whatever makes that girl move around in those painful looking heels is fine by me.

Her eyes squinted on me, „We should talk about my album.”

„Not today.” I answered simply and was about to head back in, before she forcefully pulled me back by my upper arm. Her long acrylic nails dug deep in my skin. What the hell?

„I have a contract you know... You owe me an album.” The chick was crazy and I’m not saying it ‘cause I don’t like her, but she... really was batshit crazy.

„I don’t owe you anything,” I jerked my arm out of her reach and went inside, slamming the door in her face. „That crazy bitch...” I mused as I inspected my ruined tattoos. Those were some impressive scratch-marks.

I walked over to the coffee table and picked up my phone and quickly searched up Brian’s number. Without second thoughts I pressed the call button and after a long beep, it send me straight to voice mail. „Hey, it’s me. I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring your crazy bitches down to my mum’s house. Thanks. But other than that, what would you like for dinner? Call me back.”

And I’ll be damned if Saint lectured me again for being hostile towards him. I was in fact trying to be nice. Didn’t always succeed, but hey... I was even ready to cook him whatever the hell he came up with.

The phone vibrated in my hand, indicating I had received a text.

Don’t bother. Won’t be staying at ur place tonight.

„That son of a bitch...” I blinked down at the screen of my phone, „I told him to call me!”

Notes

Lately I've been having problems with proofreading these chapters, so guys, if you stumble upon some errors, don't judge me too hard, okay?

Anyhow, thank you for all the feedback, reading your thoughts really makes my day!