Restraint is Useless Here

“How do I look?” Anna twirled around, her mid-length skirt billowing as she danced around her bedroom, snapping her fingers and swaying her hips to a dance song on the radio. Shimmying over to Maria, she snatched a slice of cheddar cheese and a cracker from Maria’s plate. As she took a bite, crumbs peppered the page of magazine Maria was reading. Maria’s brown eyes peered up scornfully before she wiped the crumbs away and resumed thumbing through the pages.

“Like a dead woman,” she replied flatly. “And like you’re going to a Sunday picnic with your grandma, not a rock concert.”

Anna narrowed her eyes and shot her friend a sardonic smirk. She spun back around to look at her reflection: she paired a sleeveless, button-up chambray top with a gauzy white skirt. She looked nice. Grandma’s approval wasn’t such a bad thing, anyway.

“First off,” Anna began, ticking off her fingers as she counted. “I’ve never called in sick before, so I’m still very much alive. Second, you’re off tonight, so you have nothing to bitch about. And third, almighty Fashion Wench, what does one wear to a rock concert?”

“Eyeliner. Gold hoops. Black. Low necklines. Show some tetas. That would make Sexy Guitar Guy squirm.” A devious grin crept across Maria’s face as she swept her midnight-colored hair up in a top knot. Anna knew she meant business once the top knot came into play—Maria’s equivalent of a mechanic rolling up their sleeves. “Listen, just give me the reins. I will make you erupt. When I’m finished, you’ll be so scorching, you will give hard-ons that could drill through a mountain.”

Anna blinked several times. “A little heavy on the imagery, Maria. Also, terrifying.”

She did, however, spare a few extra seconds thinking about whatever Brian had in his pants. Ever since the night he starred in her escapist fantasy—truthfully, ever since the night they met—she couldn’t pull her mind away from the idea of him. She understood it was likely just a result of being in this toxic relationship for so long, but she was human and, well, he was beautiful. And infuriating. And completely narcissistic. And very much not hers. In fact, she would bet good money that after he saw the bruises, she was nothing but a human red flag.

As far as she’d distanced herself from Jack emotionally, she still hadn’t mustered the courage to end it. Most of her free time that week had been devoted to researching security systems, restraining orders, and obtaining a permit to carry a concealed weapon. She needed out, but first she needed a safe place to end it and a plan for self-preservation afterward. Unfortunately, she had no solid plan for any of these things.

“No matter how hard you’re pushing Sexy Guitar Guy, I have a boyfriend and he’s picking me up in an hour,” Anna reminded Maria. And herself.

Maria fell back onto Anna’s bed with a huff, loosing out a string of Spanish expletives under her breath.

“And even if I didn’t have a boyfriend,” Anna continued, stepping out of her skirt. “Sexy Guitar Guy could have his pick of any woman in California. I guarantee a starry-eyed bartender isn’t high on his ‘To Do’ list.”

“Oh, stop with the white girl pity party. I saw how he looked at you. There’s no mistaking that kind of fire.” Maria’s head popped up, donning another mischievous smile. “Wait, did you just admit he’s got you starry-eyed?”

Anna threw her skirt over Maria’s head, if for no other reason than to hide her own rotten, lying face.

A chime across the room alerted a text message. Anna strode bottomless to retrieve her phone from her computer desk as Maria began rifling through Anna’s closet.

I’ve got some errands to run before the show, read a text from Jack. I’ll have to meet you there. Can Maria drop you off?

Closing her eyes, Anna held her phone to her chest for a moment before turning around. Waves of varying emotions crested through her; she felt each of them playing out across her face, an open book as usual. Irritation at Jack’s selfishness—she was the one who got the tickets and he had the gall to inconvenience her at her last minute to appease himself. Relief that she didn’t have drive with him. After all, less time spent with Jack was less time playing the actress. But just underneath the surface, a muddied emotion gripped her core. It undulated and bloomed, eclipsing any other feelings she’d registered as she realized that this—this—was her pivot point.

This was it. This was her out. She felt it rising from the soles of her feet, gathering as much strength as possible before planting itself firmly in her chest, radiating light and heat and the promise of freedom.

She ran through her strengths to gain forward momentum. Riding with him was no longer an obligation. Stereotypically a coward move, breaking up over the phone with a physically abusive boyfriend ensured she was safe while she did said breaking. She would stay with Maria tonight as backup. She had her own place, her own income—financially and academically, she was self-sufficient.

Today, she absolved herself from this nightmare.

Today, her life would be chronicled into Before and After, and she would not be defined by what Jack had done to her in between. I am not what he made me.

A strange tug-of-war on her heart began as she considered the finality of it; the love lost, the friendship lost. The first year with Jack had been a dream, as the honeymoon phase always tended to be. He had a dominating personality, but she didn’t mind him taking the lead. She loved him. But as time passed, something in Jack had rotted him insidiously, from core to surface. As much as she had shouldered the task of keeping him afloat, she could not let herself drown in the process. She would not. She would overcome.

I will soar.

After securing the resolve inside herself, Anna turned to Maria, shoulders squared and resolute. Exhaling, she released all the carbon dioxide and anxiety she'd harbored for the last 60 seconds. Anna thought a minute was a very insignificant amount of time to make such a life-altering decision, but if it came that quickly, it was certainly the correct one.

“Okay, so I’m stuck between shredding this black shirt and—“ Maria emerged from Anna’s closet with an armful of fabric, but abruptly shut her mouth as she took in Anna’s expression. “What are you doing with your face?”

“I’m ending it with Jack. Right now.”

——————————————

Maria had stepped outside to give Anna some privacy during her phone call—possibly to act as guard dog as well, but Anna would take all the support she could get. Maria knew Jack was difficult, but Anna hadn’t confessed the full extent of Jack’s physical abuse yet. She thought it’d set a dark tone for a night out with friends. Maria happily accepted her invitation to the concert and, even though she promised she’d be on her best behavior, Anna could see the gears turning in her head, muttering something about “rebound sex” as she exited the apartment.

The droning ring of the outgoing call tone in her ear buzzed along with every nerve ending in her body. Against all anatomical logic, Anna was certain that her heart had beat its way into her trachea, constricting both blood flow and oxygenation. She could not stifle the trembling of her hands. The cool metal of her phone slipped in her hand. Raising a shoulder to hold the phone to her ear, she wiped her clammy palm onto her bedspread.

“Yeah?” Jack answered gruffly. She could hear the turbulent wind blowing into his speaker. He was driving; he was irritated. He always hated when she would call instead of returning his text messages.

“Hey, sorry for calling,” she quickly conceded, immediately scolding herself for apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. She cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “Um, listen. Tonight isn’t a good idea.”

No reply. Only the remote bustle of traffic and roaring of the breeze against the speaker.

Her heart thrashed even quicker at his silence, but she continued. “And not just tonight. This...we haven’t been good for a long time. I can’t continue pretending this is healthy for either of us. You’ve put your hands on me, Jack. You’ve left bruises on me.”

More silence. A deep breath. The crunching of gravel and the shift of a gear. The abrupt shutting off of an engine. Maybe he won’t respond at all, Anna thought. Maybe he’s so angry that he’ll just spontaneously implode and all his atoms and molecules will just float into oblivion, never to be seen or heard again.

“Are you finished?”

Anna didn’t quite know what he was asking. Was she finished talking? Was she finished with the relationship? She thought she’d made herself quite clear, but tended to be better at thinking than speaking. “P-Pardon me?”

“I said, ‘are you finished?’” he repeated, a clipped edge to his consonants. “I told you that I have errands to run before I meet you there. Had I known there’d be a tantrum, I’d have thought better of it. Really, Anna, I don’t have time for this today. It’s been an overwhelming day at the hospital and you’re making it worse. This little emotional outburst is beyond inconvenient.”

Her chest tightened as he chided her. Every reflex in her screamed to cave, to give in. It’s what she‘d always done. Keep quiet, keep your head down, do what you’re told, don’t make him mad. Don’t make him hurt you.

“I am not what you made me,” she whispered, more to herself than anything.

“What?”

“This is not a tantrum. It is not an emotional outburst,” she declared, firm and resolute. “I am leaving you, Jack. And I am serious.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anna.” A humorless laugh punctuated the syllables of her name. A cruel laugh. She saw him in her mind’s eye: that furrowed brow, that disdainful snarl. She bet his fingers were clenched into his shaggy hair, tugging slightly. That was always his tell, right before he exploded.

She chewed her thumbnail absentmindedly, wishing she could fast forward to an hour, a day, a year from now. She chose to bite her tongue, hoping her silence said more than she ever could.

“So, this is it?” Jack spat, his tone became unsteady as the volume increased. “Here I am, busting my ass to make our lives better—to make your life better—but you insist on fucking things up for me. What, do you think now that Valary’s home, she’ll get sentimental and want to keep you around? Newsflash, Anna: you’re a bartender and a nursing student. You’re nothing. She’s managing a band that tours the whole fucking world. She will leave you in the dust. She doesn’t give a shit about you. None of them do. I am the only one who cares about you. You need me.”

Anna’s vision clouded more with every word as the blood pumping through her veins echoed in her eardrums. Her cold, numb fingers gripped the phone so tightly, she heard the metal creak under her grip. Feeling her chest hollow out with each of his words, she wondered if he was right. She was just a bartender and a student—a struggling student, at that. Her one bedroom apartment was always drafty and the front door jammed. The check engine light illuminated the dash of her 2001 Corolla and every car ride tempted fate; every day she begged just one more hassle-free trip from it. She used drugstore makeup and probably couldn’t afford even one application of Val’s lipstick. Probably no one else would even think it worthwhile to stick around. Her pathetic job and pathetic life didn’t hold a candle to a rockstar boyfriend. And yet...

I am not what he made me.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she countered, her voice defiant and clear as a bell, her fingers clenched and primed to snap the phone shut. “I don’t need anyone.”

—————————————-

“There is no way in hell you can chug this beer—no hands—in 10 seconds.” Jimmy held up a 22oz bomber bottle of Heineken and swung it like a pendulum in Brian’s face.

The two guys were gathered in the common area outside the dressing rooms of Long Beach Convention Center. Despite the fact that they’d all had the opportunity to shower, California had been uncharacteristically humid that day and the air conditioner was clearly struggling to regulate the humidity. The band tended to be humble and hated asking for additional accoutrements. Val, however, had no problem calling the shots and requested various box and table fans to be brought in. Johnny and Zack had gone to the concession area to get some bottled water and ice cream while Matt, oddly grossed out by excessive sweat, opted to take another shower.

For Jimmy, that just meant a higher inclination to seek out ice cold beers.

Heaving a laugh, Brian leveled Jimmy with a glare that said “you’re kidding.” He was never one to back down from a challenge—especially when that challenge involved libations.

Brian set his black and white Schecter down gently, then stood and cracked his neck and knuckles. “I can drink it in 10 seconds with no hands and then shove it up your ass with no hands, too.”

“Val and Shads, we need your lube!” Jimmy shouted with a laugh, popping the cap off with his lighter and setting it down on a nearby table. In Brian’s memory, there was never once a time when they’d taken the stage sober. Never sloppily drunk, but never completely sober, either. If he were being honest, the alcohol helped the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit while on stage. By this point, they’d played for probably hundreds of thousands of kids, but an inkling of stage fright never went away fully. He knew he was incredible, but that didn’t mean he wanted his nerves to fuck him up.

Jimmy’s cell phone chirped a text alert, but he ignored it in favor of summoning their friends as they made their way back from concessions. Zack and Johnny walked into the room and immediately demanded to participate. Within seconds, Jimmy had opened three bottles and lined them up in front of them while Brian, Zack, and Johnny were all knelt down, waiting for the green light. Their efforts were in vain, of course, because even though Zacky had powerful-looking lips, Brian had no gag reflex whatsoever and would win this, no contest. And Johnny just talked a lot of shit.

Just then Matt walked into the room, a towel around his waist, and tossed a small bottle at Jimmy. “Keep it,” Matt chuckled. “I don’t even want to know.”

As it landed in his hands, Jimmy’s eyes widened once he recognized it: KY Jelly. “Shit. Gates, I’m not ready to pop my ass cherry.”

“Jesus Christ,” groaned Brian, shaking his head. “Just count us down, idiot!”

Jimmy’s phone continued to chirp. He continued to ignore it. “So many bitches, so little time,” he joked.

Brian was not aware of any bitches, but given the amount of times a girl or two...or three...would sneak out of his bunk, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy was literally manufacturing them.

“Gentlemen, hands behind your backs,” began Jimmy, tossing the lube behind the ratty plaid couch. “On my count: 1...2...3...drink!”

Brian bowed his head and wrapped his mouth around the bottle neck, locating the ridges and attempting to find the right balance of suction and teeth to grip the bottle firmly enough to tip it back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zack already lifting the bottle up to his right. Fuck him and his stupid fellating lips. I knew he should’ve been a chick. Brian tested his hold on the bottle; it didn’t budge. Perfect. He turned his face toward the ceiling as he let the bottle slide further down a bit, then opened his throat and began to chug.

Jimmy had began his count about one second prior, once Zack had begun drinking. “2...3...4...5... dude, I can’t count because you guys are giving me the weirdest boner right now.”

At that, Zack sprayed beer out of his mouth, his coughs threatening to overpower his laughs. Brian was pretty sure Johnny had just picked up the beer with his hands and meandered over the to couch by that point. The carbonation burned his throat going down so quickly, but still, he drank. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Brian took the empty bottle and slammed it down on the table, a slight crack etching the glass from the impact.

“Victory is mine, assholes!” announced Brian. He picked up Zack’s bottle and finished off what was left to drive home the win, then clapped his recovering friend on the back. “It was a decent try, ZV. I get it. Jimmy’s erection is distracting.”

He turned to Johnny. “Can’t hang, Christ?”

“I’m just here to drink at my own pace and play bass,” Johnny shrugged, his newly blond and black Mohawk standing tall as he took a swig of his beer. With his other hand, he reached over to the table next to him, switching on a rusted table fan. “Jesus, you guys radiate too much body heat. It’s the last show and I‘m ready for the break.”

Brian knew exactly what he meant. The set last night had been amazing, but they were all tired and losing steam. The lure of being back in California only magnified their desire to chill out, but their most loyal fans deserved a show that they’d never forget—he and his friends would deliver, as always.

Freshly showered and donning his signature backwards baseball cap and aviators, Matt walked into the room—ever the frontman—and clapped his hands together. “Get amped, you guys! It’s our last show. We’re going to give these kids everything we’ve fucking got.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded from his friends, but Matt didn’t seem offended at the understated response—this was just the calm before the storm. The moment each of them stepped onto the stage, they came to life. The dry gusts of heat would explode from the pyrotechnics, the organ’s introductory chords for “Critical Acclaim” filling the air as Jimmy beat the life out of his drum set while Brian and Zacky dueled. Shadows’ scream would effectively resurrect their dormant alter egos, unleashing his powerful growl from the depths of whatever demonic underbelly his voice originated.

Jimmy’s ringer signaled an incoming call. Brian watched his friend’s face darken as he glanced at the screen. “Hang tight, I’m gonna take this.”

The moment Jimmy left the room, Val walked in with Anna Sinclair and the smoky brunette bartender from Diamond Bar in tow. He felt a strange, lifting sensation in his stomach and prayed it wasn’t the beer coming back up, because Jesus Christ.

He regretted not jerking off earlier that day.

Unruly crimson ringlets that belonged in one of those girly shampoo commercials—or possibly on a siren luring him to some beautiful, horrible death—cascaded down her shoulders as she strode toward him. She wore some kind of black lacy shirt that tied around the back of her neck and showed absolutely no cleavage, but instead a small peek at the outer swell of her breast. Brian had never paid much mind to that half of a boob before but, as of that exact moment, it was his favorite part of the female body. Ever. He was not prepared for the side-boob and he sure as hell was not prepared for the leather pants that made her legs look a mile long, even though she was at least half foot shorter than he was. God, her thighs looked soft and slender and forbidden and he was one hundred percent jerking off tonight.

Val introduced the bartender—Maria—to Matt, Zack, Johnny, and him and they all exchanged handshakes and pleasantries. It did not escape his notice that Maria was very much not Anna’s boyfriend. It also didn’t escape his notice that Maria watched her friend like a hawk as Anna leaned into Brian to greet him with a friendly side hug—it was obvious the two were thick as thieves. He felt light-headed as Anna’s fingers grazed his abdomen, gently squeezing his side, but surely the alcohol was to blame. Surely that was it.

“Anna, you made it!” exclaimed Matt with a grin, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in greeting.

“Sorry to crash your warm up,” Anna replied with a smile. “Val invited us to come early, so I’m here for my first taste of heavy metal. I’m a pretty harsh judge, so I hope you’re up for the challenge.” She shot Brian a secret grin.

”I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Matt replied. “Glad to see you tracked down this basket case. She hasn’t sit still all day.”

Val shot her boyfriend a look. “Johnny was missing until noon today. Of course I lost my mind! How the hell do we function without our bassist?”

“Walk into a preschool and pull out a kid playing a tissue box guitar with yarn strings,” suggested Brian. He didn’t need to see Johnny’s middle finger to know it was there. “They’d hands down outperform Johnny.”

“Have you heard of projection, Mr. Gates?” Anna teased, a levity to her voice that hadn’t been there at brunch the day before.

“Hah!” Johnny guffawed from the hideous plaid couch, extending his arm to Anna as if handing her the game point. “Finally someone calls him on his shit.”

“You were at urgent care getting an STD test. I refuse to go easy on you just because you’ve got dick rot.” Brian pointed out. Turning to Anna and mirroring her eyebrow quirk, he bit back. “Projection? The only thing I’m projecting is raw, masterful talent tonight, sweetheart.”

“‘Sweetheart?’ The nerve of this one.” Anna remarked to no one in particular. She squared her body off with his, a hand on her hip in mock offense, though he could tell it was playful. Their banter felt a lot like the night they met, but easier. He stuck a Marlboro between his teeth and grinned wolfishly at her, moving the cigarette back and forth with his tongue. Even as conversation buzzed around them—Matt and Zack sat around the table discussing which songs to perform for the encore while Val and Maria seemed to be deep in conversation, the latter of whom repeatedly glanced back at her friend—Anna zeroed in on only him, taunting him, whether intentional or not. The rickety table fan oscillated toward them, rustling Anna’s curls and sucker punching him with her amber and vanilla scent.

“It’s a urinary tract infection, asshole,” Johnny interrupted, immediately souring the flirtation. “Just because it burns when I pee doesn’t mean it’s an STD. They test you as part of the workup. I need to drink more water.” He crossed his arms and pouted, muttering something about Jimmy and his big mouth.

“It’s true,” Anna chimed in. “Dysuria is a pretty vague symptom. The urgent care physicians need to do multiple tests to properly diagnose him and prescribe the appropriate antibiotic. And you probably shouldn’t be drinking that beer, my friend.” Johnny frowned, but obligingly threw it into the trash as he stood up to join Zack and Matt at the table.

Brian saw his opportunity. His smoke break could wait. Sticking the cigarette behind his ear, he lowered his voice so only Anna would hear. “Speaking of doctors, shouldn’t yours be here doing the diagnosing?”

Her eyes glanced at the door quickly before dropping to the floor. Her hands made their way into the leather pockets, which really only fit her fingertips because her pants were so snug. “Jack won’t be coming.”

A loaded statement, Brian realized. But now wasn’t the time.

“Then it’s settled,” Matt pushed off his knees as he stood up, concluding his conversation with the others. “We need to tear it up tonight. Nothing but perfection, dude. Gates, no fucking up. Johnny, no pee breaks. Zacky, I have absolutely nothing bad to say about you. You’re a goddamn superstar. Where’s Jimmy?”

“Present and ready to entertain.” Jimmy strode back into the room. Brian thought he might have imagined the flash of emotion across Jimmy’s face as his eyes landed on the newcomers, because a blink later, it was gone. He watched his best friend approach the girls, introducing himself to “the new love of his life sorry Annie you’ve been replaced,” all in the same breath.

As mingling and conversation went on, the time for warmup drew near. Brian signaled Jimmy and Zack outside for a smoke break. Zack and Brian took a seat in the metal folding chairs they’d set up outside and Jimmy leaned back against the concrete wall of the arena.

Jimmy pulled three cigarettes from the pack and stuck them all between his lips. He lit them in rapid succession and handed one to each of his friend. Resting his head against the brick and gazing up at his cloud of smoke, Jimmy sighed dreamily. “I think I’m gonna propose to Maria during the encore.”

Typical Jimmy with his heart on his sleeve. Zack choked on his laughter. “So quick to replace the redhead?”

“It never would’ve worked,” Jimmy replied with a wink. “I joke and fuck around and all, but she’s got a dude. And I think Dr. Jack’s got issues, man.“

Zack scoffed. “The understatement of the millennium.”

“Why do you say he’s got issues?” Brian inquired, even though the coke bender spoke for itself. He remained as casual as possible, not wanting to hint at his little infatuation.

Jimmy considered this for a moment, blowing smoke rings in the silence. “He’s been calling and texting every goddamn day, begging me to ‘hook him up with my guy’. Says he needs it to stay focused, but I don’t know, man. And this dude’s trying to be a surgeon? I don’t need that shit on my conscience.”

“Is that who called before?” Brian asked.

“Yeah,” answered Jimmy, running a hand up and down the back of his neck. “He wanted to come up here earlier for more coke, but I told him my guy isn’t from around here,”—his “guy” was a friend of the Berrys’, but Brian knew Jimmy wouldn’t implicate anyone. Jimmy was quick to befriend, but he wouldn’t betray their inner circle for anything—“He got pissed. Like, pissed. I thought I was gonna shit myself when I saw Anna, but once I realized she wasn’t with Jack, I chilled out.”

Jimmy blew out a breath exasperatedly. “I thought he was cool, you know? Wanted to know everything about the band and touring and plans for future music. And yeah, I did a line with him last week at Diamond, but I don’t want to do that shit all the time. I’m not on that level and I think he is. Sucks. Thought I made a friend, too.”

Jimmy kicked some pebbles frustratedly, like someone had just stepped on his Lego house. Brian was heartened by the innocent gesture, especially within the subject matter of illegal substances.

“I guess it’s good that he’s not here, then,” Zack said, flicking his cigarette and rising to stand. “We don’t need his crazy ass ruining tonight.”

Brian pushed off his knees to stand as well. The jack-off boyfriend wasn’t coming tonight and he was about to do what he loved in front of thousands of kids who knew every word to every song he and his brothers had written. Excitement turned his stomach when he thought about how Anna would be watching him perform for the first time. He made a mental note to ask Val where her seats would be. Seeing the look on her face as his fingers flew over the fretboard would be priceless. He wanted to look her in the eye as nearly 14,000 people screamed his name.

A perfect fucking night.

“Hell yeah,” Jimmy agreed, snapping out of his melancholy. He slung his lanky arms around Brian and Zack, hugging them close. “We’re gonna bring it down, guys. Let’s murder this. Then let’s drink and party and go get some fucking burritos. Extra jalapeños, no beans. I don’t want to be ripping ass all night. And then we need pick out tuxes because you shitheads are all going to be the best men at my wedding.”

Notes