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Retrovertigo

Chapter Five: Lennon and McCartney

The crew followed me up the staircase and down the hall. I waited by the open door as Jude and his cameramen filed into the room. With a suspicious, yet unwarranted, glance down the hallway, I firmly closed the door behind me.
Jude had been doing his best to persuade me to open up further about my life spent with Jimmy. My mood had shifted over the following few days, though, which meant that window of communication had been effectively pulled shut. It came in waves; sometimes I’d find myself offering up vague details and other times I made active conscious choices to remove Jimmy’s name from my vernacular.
On this particular day, Jude had asked to run through a couple of my songs. We were set to begin recording in the early hours of the next morning, so Jude saw an opportunity to dig into the roots of Blair Peterson/Haner. I hadn’t listened back to my first album since it had been released—partly because of modesty and partly because I hadn’t felt a need.
“You know,” I said, my back turned to the group as I shuffled through my and Brian’s CD collection. “It’s kind of funny that everyone thinks I’ve never publicly acknowledged Jimmy’s death.”
Jude caught this with curiosity, “Why is that funny?”
“Have you heard my second album?” I half-laughed, pulling it from the shelf and whirling around to display it. “Sixty percent of this thing is about Jimmy. And the other forty, he helped to write. If ever you want my comment, just sift through this album.”
Jude and his crew exchanged glances, obviously making mental notes to do exactly that. I slid the CD back into its place, running my fingers along its title as I pulled myself from the trauma. With a pull of my finger, my very first solo album slid into my palm.
Blair Peterson
It felt surreal. I looked like an infant plastered on the cover in that infamous white dress. They’d sworn it wouldn’t be used as the album art—but, like most people in this business, they were entirely full of shit. My mind wandered back to the day the album cover was shot. The way Jimmy had lifted me up, swearing and promising that I’d looked radiant. If only I’d stop dripping my depression all over it. I laughed to myself, giving my head a shake at the distant memory of my friend’s broken filter.
With a quiet pop, I cracked open the case and pulled the CD from its hooks. As I pushed it into our stereo and let the melodies roar to life, I sank into my past. It was a comfortable place. It was loving and warm. It had been birthed during a point of simplicity in my life. Back then, everything was shiny and new—I still had a lust for life.
“We should talk about your first big hit,” Jude told me, breaking me from my trance.
I tilted my head, “Which one? I had two on this album.”
“More than two,” one of the cameramen, Joshua, smirked.
With a laugh, I nodded.
Jude smiled, “Sad Girl is the first song of yours that I ever heard. Could we talk about that one?”
“Sure,” I shrugged, pushing my finger against the button and skimming through the tracks until I finally found it.
After nine years, I had absolutely no clue which order my songs were in. My memory was reserved for other things…like tearing myself to bits.
“Okay, so,” Jude started quickly as I pulled myself into a chair. “You start this song off by calling yourself a mistress.”
I laughed.
“I’ve always been so curious about that,” he smiled. “I assumed this song was about Brian.”
“It is,” I told him simply. “And it isn’t.”
He quietly pressed me for elaboration.
“The first verse and the first time we hear the chorus,” I explained. “Those are about Brian. But I don’t mean mistress like he was fucking me on the side or some shit like that.”
“Blair,” he snickered. “Eloquence.”
“Sorry,” I grinned. “It was meant to be…Okay, so Brian and I lead these pretty crazy lives. We always have. We’re both active musicians and right from the start of our relationship, we knew there would be a lot of sacrifices. You know? There’s a lot of time spent on the road…a lot of time cooped up inside the studio. Even when we’re home, if we’re in the middle of writing an album, it’s…You know, the lights are on but nobody’s home.”
Jude smiled, “Right.”
“And when it comes to Brian,” I continued, wracking my brain for some sort of logical way of explaining my thoughts. “I always knew I’d be second to his music. And I don’t mean that in some self-depreciating, woe is me kind of way. It’s just who he is. It’s what his life is about. Music is his number one passion in life. I love that about him. But…I think that a lot of people might find that daunting in a relationship. They might be a bit put off by playing second string.”
Jude seemed enthused by my logic, “I never would have thought of it that way. I tend to take things at face value. I honestly thought this was some sort of caricature of a burdened relationship.”
I shook my head, “No way.”
“So, this bit,” he went on, gesturing to the stereo, “where you sing you haven’t seen my man.”
“Right,” I smiled, adding a playful laugh. “Have you seen my man? His cheekbones alone make it all worth it.”
Jude snickered, collecting himself to move on with his investigation, “So what’s the second verse about then?”
“Jimmy,” I replied flatly.
“Okay, that’s interesting,” he informed me with wild curiosity.
I sighed, feeling that timeless tightening in my chest, “When it, um…When it came to Jimmy…We had this…Super strange connection. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. We were literally inseparable. Like if you tried, you could hear our veins ripping apart.”
Jude cringed at the visual, which only made me laugh. It was gnarly and graphic, but entirely accurate. Jimmy and I hated to be apart—and would physically maim anyone who tried to pull at us.
Smiling a little to myself, I continued on, “He would abandon his life to come over and harass me. When I started demoing this album, I think he’d been home for…maybe…a day. Maybe. It was probably closer to a few hours, but that’s neither here nor there. The second he had his feet on the ground, he was pounding at my door, insisting we get moving.”
“He wanted good things for you,” Jude beamed fondly.
I nodded, “Yeah. He wanted so much to be a part of it. I’ll tell you right now, when I was writing this album, I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never had to hold my own in this way. I’d never been responsible for creating an entire song from start to finish. I was at a total loss.”
He considered this, “Brian didn’t help out?”
“He did,” I quickly replied. “Of course he did. But it was different with Jimmy. Everything was different with Jimmy. We’d kind of, like, fold into this one hyper-focused being. We were like two souls morphing into one…so, when one of us would get a new idea, the other would spring onto it. Jimmy sank his claws into my solo career and he really pushed me to be a better musician. A better songwriter. There’s no doubt in my mind that I owe my life to him. You know? I owe every ounce of my success to Jimmy and his unwavering belief in me. I’m thankful every day for that.”
Jude smiled at me, seemingly patting me on the back, “So how does that relationship translate into this song? What was that process?”
“There wasn’t much process,” I shrugged. “This was one of the first songs I wrote without Jimmy’s input. I mean, when I brought it to him, he ripped it apart,” I paused, laughing quietly to myself at the distinct memory. “The way you hear it now is nothing like it was when I brought it to him.”
I hesitated, unsure how to properly sum up the words I’d written so long ago. There were always feelings at stake, and when it came to matters pertaining to Lauren, I was always sure to proceed with utmost caution.
“When I talk about being a woman on the side,” I finally managed. “It’s because…I mean, I feel sometimes like that’s what I was. Not in the stereotypical, other woman kind of way…But because Jimmy and I were so close, I think it may have been intimidating for other women. I think Jimmy needed a strong, secure woman in his life. A lot of women would have been so threatened by our friendship. It was easily mistaken as something romantic on more than one occasion.”
Jude laughed, “I remember the tabloids. When I was reading up about you, I came across so many headlines about you and The Rev caught in the act.”
“Caught in the act,” I snickered. “Exactly. Everything gets so blown out of proportion in this industry. One time, I remember, there were these pictures of Jimmy kissing my cheek. My fucking cheek. And they’d plastered this picture of Brian looking all concerned…” I couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “The headline was something ridiculous like trouble in paradise. Jimmy got a real kick out of it. Poor Brian, though. You know, he was always getting dragged through the mud at the expense of Jimmy and my fun. It’s especially ridiculous because if I’d stayed with Haven, I don’t think anyone would have cared enough about me to even run those kinds of stories. The whole thing is just insane.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Jude argued lightly. “But you definitely blew up once you went solo. You’re a household name now.”
I shrugged my shoulders, unsure what to do with that comment.
“Jimmy ended up dating your best friend, right?” Jude moved on.
“Yeah, but she wasn’t my best friend at the time,” I replied. “But she was the perfect person for the situation. She was always understanding of who Jimmy and I were. She was so patient and…she’s really just the best human being. She’s always been a genuinely wonderful person. I’m really, really blessed to have her in my life.”
“And you felt like a woman on the side next to her and Jimmy’s relationship?” Jude pressed.
I mulled that over, taking my sweet time to formulate a real thought, “I wouldn’t really say it like that…But in a way, yeah. I guess. Though, if you’d asked Lauren, she would have told you that she was the woman on the side. She always says that next to me, no other woman could compare in Jimmy’s eyes. I don’t know that it’s true but…It is what it is.”
Jude nodded, “And did Brian share that mentality?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “It never really mattered. We didn’t spend a lot of time thoroughly discussing my relationship with Jimmy. Everyone just kind of…accepted it, I guess. There wasn’t much to discuss.”
“Well, you’ve kind of blown my mind,” Jude smirked. “You’ve changed my entire perspective of this song. I thought it was juicy! Turns out, it’s adorable.”
I blushed faintly, “Sorry, dude. I mean, you can always pretend it’s some swanky tune about being a harlot. I won’t correct you.”
He laughed heartily, grinning from ear to ear.
“If you want to talk about hits though,” I started. “We should get into Summertime Sadness.”
“The obvious choice,” he nodded with his eyes widened. “Such a good tune.”
“Thanks,” I smiled, leaning over to adjust the track.
The room folded itself into the music, quietly floating along the melody.
“Did you know this one would be such a big hit?” Jude asked quietly.
I smiled, leaning as far back into my memory as I could go.
I’d hurried up to Jimmy’s condo, banging my fists against the door without any regard for his neighbors. When he pulled the wooden slab open and sparkled his cheeky grin at me, I’d promptly thrust a case into his chest.
“What’s this?” he’d asked me.
That,” I smirked, wiggling my eyebrows up at him, “is the hit you told me to write.”
“You wrote a hit,” he stated incredulously.
I chuckled, “Oh, yee of little faith.”
I slipped passed him, instinctively climbing the stairs and rolling into the studio that was currently overflowing with everything to do with my album. Our sheet music was scattered around like it had flown from the grip of a tornado; crumpled balls of paper littered the floor. A notebook filled with my thoughts, Jimmy’s thoughts, and a team effort sat proudly atop the piano bench. What was once a space built up of Jimmy’s mind and Jimmy’s goals, was now a testament to the passion we’d been creating. All things Blair Peterson had taken over, which Jimmy didn’t seem to mind at all.
Jimmy wasn’t far behind me, thumping his thumbs against the plastic case as he hurried passed me and slid the disc into the stereo.
“Keep in mind,” I warned him. “This is bare bones shit.”
Given that I had taken it upon myself to record the initial demo without Jimmy’s aid, I’d been forced to mostly rely on vocals and a smidgen of guitar—gifted by my lovely boyfriend.
Jimmy nodded along with my melody; a cheerful grin stapled to his delicate face.
“I don’t know what to do with the drums—”
Sh!” he hissed at me, slapping a hand across my lips.
It took all my restraint not to bite at his palm. I let him hold my silence for a moment until we reached the hook.
Pulling his fingers from my mouth one at a time, I grumbled, “I took a page out of your book here. I’m missing lyrics.”
He cackled loudly as my coherent thoughts jumbled rhythmically with absolute gibberish. Despite the minor setback, we listened quietly once through. On the second pass, Jimmy began making little notes into our shared book.
“This chorus is fucking sick,” he grinned over at me, a glimmer of pride rippling through his oceanic blues.
I was elated by his approval, “You think so?”
“It’s definitely a fuckin’ hit, BP,” he nodded enthusiastically. “Did Bri help?”
I shook my head smugly, “Nope. This one is all Blair…You know, except for the little bits of Brian…and eventually you.”
He snickered, “So, it’s mostly Blair.”
“You like it though?” I pressed impatiently.
“Fuck yeah,” he jeered. “This is the one that labels are going to fucking fight over.”
I leaned my head against his tattooed arm, finally feeling a resounding accomplishment peel out from beneath my skin. He adjusted instinctively, pulling me into his chest as we rolled through the chorus for the thousandth time.
“So, what’s this one about?” he asked me curiously.
“Same old,” I sighed contently. “Brian…You…Me.”
Kiss me hard before you go.
He smiled, leaning his head against mine, “And where are we going?”
“Nowhere now,” I shrugged. “But when you guys are gone on tour, it’s fucking hard. I miss you or something stupid like that.”
“I miss you too,” he told me softly, planting a gentle kiss atop my forehead.
My heart fluttered, “You know, you brought me back to life.”
“Did I?” he smirked. “I didn’t know you were a fucking zombie, BP. Do you bite? Will I get infected? Does it cause a rash? I had a rash once and it took fucking forever to go away.”
“No, you fuck,” I groaned playfully. “You are the rash.”
He pouted, “Rude.”
“I think I was a zombie though,” I considered half-heartedly. “And then I caught sight of you and knew I had to feast on your blood.”
He held an arm out to me, a cheeky grin stapled to his face, “Have at ‘er, BP. My lifeblood is your lifeblood.”
“I’d never survive as a zombie,” I laughed.
“We could probably survive through zombies though,” he winked. “I’d take care of you.”
I snickered, “I don’t believe you for one second.”
“I would!” he insisted like it was some seriously palpable reality. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Blair. Not in this life or a zombie apocalypse.”
“You’ve already gotten me through an apocalypse,” I smiled fondly, nuzzling into him.
He scoffed, “So dramatic.”
“You did though,” I insisted, feeling a little embarrassed now. “After Tyler, I wasn’t sure I’d survive. The world is a scary fucking place, you know.”
“I do know,” he concurred.
I sighed, burrowing further into him, “But between you and Brian…I’m just not afraid anymore. As long as I have you two, I’ll be okay.”
Jimmy beamed, “Well, it’s a good thing you’ll always have us then. Brother husbands and all that.”
“We’ve talked about this,” I whined. “That isn’t the same as sister wives. It doesn’t even sound right.”
“If you ever marry Brian,” he informed me with a hint of a threat. “You’ll have to marry me too.”
I giggled, “Well, obviously. It’s a package deal.”
“Exactly!” he lamented excitedly, pulling me in tighter. “This is why you’re my favourite Blair. I’ll get you a ring and everything!”
“Uh-huh,” I smirked. “I don’t need a ring. Just…don’t ever leave me, okay? I can’t handle Brian on my own.”
Jimmy grinned, “I think he’s probably said that about me.”
“He has,” I nodded. “Absolutely he has.”
“Okay,” he declared with a laugh, giving me a quick squeeze before pulling his arm back. “Enough of the feels! It’s Jimmy time!”
He hesitated briefly, scribbling a series of long-drawn designs into my page of lyrics. He read them over, narrowing his eyes without his glasses. I scrunched my face with amusement as he actively struggled with his own vision. Knowing that a snide comment was headed his way, he shook his head at me.
“Not a fucking word,” he warned without so much as a glance in my direction.
I laughed, holding both my hands up, “I wasn’t going to say anything…But…you know…they are literally right here.
He pouted at me dramatically, “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not,” I laughed. “Just put your damn glasses on.”
“Never!” he declared loudly, rising up and disappearing.
As he headed to his kit, I took it upon myself to peruse the notes he’d been making. Beyond the technical points, he’d gone ahead and adjusted my verse.
To my shock, and elation, he hadn’t changed a single other word. My eyes skimmed the page as Jimmy broke out into a series of rhythmic flailing to my left. He was loud but ingenious. His adjustment brought a ray of warmth to my otherwise bitter soul.
Think I’ll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky. Later’s better than never. Even if you’re gone, I’m gonna drive.
I knew this was Jimmy’s own feeling about our time apart. It was an obvious drain on him to be apart from those he loved, myself included. He was often stealing the phone from Brian’s white-knuckled grip in efforts to steal my attention—not that he ever had to work very hard at it. I was always happy to hear his lisp ringing through my speaker.
When he was away, a part of me would leave with him. It was a longing I’d never known. And, as I read Jimmy’s piece, I reckoned that longing might be requited.
We spent the next three days working out the imperfections of my masterpiece, slaving over the simulated instruments and working to blend them with immaculacy. With Jimmy at the helm, I knew it would turn out as perfectly as it had played out in my mind.
And he’d been right, as usual. That was the song that had the labels fighting over me. That was the song that truly thrust my name into the world.
We’d celebrated in true Jimmy and Blair style the first time we ever heard it ripple through the radio waves.
“You guys are like Lennon and McCartney!” Matt had teased as we all clanked our drinks together. “But, you know, not.”
“Good one, dude,” Jimmy snickered.
Matt shrugged, “It was a nice thought, no?”
“Which one am I?” Jimmy pressed. “Lennon? No, I’m definitely McCartney. I’ve got the baby face…oh, but so does Blair. Shit, maybe I’m Lennon. But I feel more like a McCartney! Yeah, McCartney! No! Lennon! Fuck.”
Zach patted his tall friend on the back, “Take your time, big guy.”
As we sank back into our chairs, and Jimmy and I exchanged an all-encompassing, all-knowing look of pure adoration, Brian stole my focus. As Brian often did.
“I’m so proud of you,” he grinned at me.
I smiled up at him, “Thank you for letting me run rampant with that idiot over there.”
“What?” he asked me dumbfoundedly, clearly expecting a ‘thank you’ instead of my word vomit.
I sank into his doe eyes, “You’re the best boyfriend. That’s what I mean. Thank you for being you.”
“You’re weird tonight, Peterson,” he laughed, kissing me anyway.
“I’m weird every night,” I shrugged.
He smiled over at me, “I’ll always let you run rampant with that idiot over there. I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.”
I shook my head, “Nope.”
“I love you,” he told me fondly. “And I’m so fucking proud of you.”
With that flash of radio play, and recognition in my own family, I was forever notarized as Blair Peterson. Even years later when I’d technically become Blair Haner.
A part of me, no matter how far I got, would always be that same girl cooped up inside Jimmy’s second-floor studio. A part of me would always be longing for Jimmy’s thoughts and approval. That same part of me would always be riddled with insecurity, endlessly seeking my best friend’s aid and assistance. I would always be Blair Peterson.
Or apparently McCartney…or Lennon.
But, you know, not.

Notes

Gotta slip some references to things I love into the stories sometimes, right? Isn't that writer code or some shit? I'm sure it is.

xx

Comments

@Misery
Hey there, have sent you a message :) x

RamonaFoREVer RamonaFoREVer
10/17/19

@RamonaFoREVer
Hey R, I can’t get I to the other site *sad face* I click to reset my password, but I never get an email to reset it *shrugs* HALP?

Misery Misery
10/17/19

Fyction's profile is currently offline due to sign-in issues on the website.
You can find her updates at:
www.A7Xfanfic.com

RamonaFoREVer RamonaFoREVer
6/18/19

I FUCKING LOVE THE Bs!! So damn cute! I love taking trips down memory lane, I have a fuckton of photos because I can't not take them haha.

RamonaFoREVer RamonaFoREVer
6/13/19

There you go, you said it so elegantly in this chapter!!
"A trait wrapped up in fear of losing everyone, no doubt."
But the rest of this chapter!!! A dose of heavy perfectly offset by adorable!!! God damn the B's are the fucking cutest thing!!! I mean, really, they are relationship goals. URGH! SO FUCKING CUTE!!!!!

kiss my sas kiss my sas
6/12/19