“You got tickets for tonight?” I ask.
“Nah, they were sold out before I could get em.” His mouth turns down.
“I got you, man. Go to the back gate, ask for Marv, tell him Andrew sent ya.” I say.
“For real?” He says, his eyes widening in shock.
“Yeah, man. Have a great time.” I say as I grab the drink he set down for and head off to see Goldfinger.
“Andrew, good to see you.” He smiles, and my insides recoil.
“Steve, what can I do for you?” I ask, setting the drink on the booth table in the back of the restaurant.
“Are you going to have Alex’s song done before you guys get back into the studio?” He asks, sitting forward and placing his elbows on the table.
“Probably,” I shrug; I’m not giving this guy an inch or he will take a mile.
“See that it does. I want it on the next album. People love a good heartbreak song.” He takes a sip of his gin and leans back against the booth. His words piss me off, and for the first time in my career, I actually do something about it.
“No.” I say, shaking my head. “Alex’s song will only be performed live.” His face rears back like I slapped him. His tongue runs across his teeth under his lip, and I can tell I’ve pissed him off.
“You aren’t going to tell me-“ he spits, but I cut him off.
“You’re goddamn right I am going to tell you what will and will not be on my album. I let you push me over a fucking barrel with Pistol, but I won’t let that happen again. I have creative rights to Alex’s song until it’s recorded. It’s fucking mine.” I spit, anger coursing through me. The song isn’t just mine, but that’s semantics at this point.
“When will it be recorded?” He asks, not at all perturbed that I just told him to shove it.
“Never.” I say with finality in my tone.
His eyes narrow, and he takes another drink of his gin. “Okay, we will push Pistol then. The original recording.” He smiles over the top of his drink. We re-recorded Pistol after everything went down with Bristol and I. I couldn’t listen to it on playback and hear her say she loves me without putting my fist or guitar through the wall.
“That’s fine.” Comes from behind me. I turn around to find Bristol standing in the opening of the bar, a black leather mini skirt, fishnets, and a hot pink Plight T-shirt cut off at the waist. She holds a drink in her hand as she leans her shoulder against the wall. She swirls her drink around in the glass before downing the entire thing in two gulps….and I’m hard. She steps further into the room, and Steve’s eyes widen.
“You know the deal with the original recording. You play it, and every single dime it earns goes to the Los Angeles women's center. You want to make zero pennies and spend thousands of dollars to push a song that has been already recorded, be my fucking guest.”
Steve’s mouth twists at her words, and I am flabbergasted. I had no idea that was the deal they made, but it makes sense now. They pushed so hard for me to re-record Pistol because they weren’t making a dime off of it.
“Checkmate?” She says, a sweet smile on her cherry red lips.
“Waste of fucking time.” Steve grumbles as he downs the rest of the drink. “See you both this evening.” With that, he drops a bill onto the table and leaves the bar.
“I had no idea.” I say, pulling her body into mine.
“That was one of the conditions of the contract. You’d never know.” She says.
“You’re amazing.” I smile, planting my lips against hers.
***
The Kingdome is full to the absolute brim with fans. They’re already yelling for us, and we don’t go on for another fifteen minutes. I pace backstage with a bottle of whiskey and anxiety. I didn’t ever want to come back here. There’s too many memories and too few memories at the same time. The last time I was here, Alex was next to me, Denny and Boston too. This time there’s no Alex and no Denny.
“Babe, have a seat. You’re fine. Everything is okay.” Bristol says to my left, her hand finds my back, and she makes small circles there with her palm. Her hand against me doesn’t calm me though, it makes me want to rip my skin off. I take a step away from her and hurt flashes across her face.
“I can’t do this.” I say, the anxiety and frustration creeping further up my body. It feels like I have a barbed wire noose around my neck. I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Andrew!” Bristol yells, and I don’t realize my feet have carried me further out of the room, closer to the exit door. The bright green Exit sign sits above the door like a beacon of hope, a sign that escaping is within reach.
I just need air, that’s it. I’ll be fine once I have a little fresh air. My boots clunk against the cement flooring as I make my way towards the door. I push the crash bar, and the door opens loosening the noose around my neck somewhat. I grab a smoke from the pack in my pocket and have a seat on one of the parking stall barriers on the ground. I inhale deeply as the nicotine hits my lungs, this is what I needed. I feel myself start to let go, the panic still there but less than it was.