Late Goodbye

It was half past eight when I rolled up to the studio, hardly keeping my eyes open and reeking of a large amount of vodka. And I didn’t even like vodka. To think about it, I hadn’t even been to any of the bars on my daily schedule, I was home. And still got wasted. I couldn’t bare being in that big mansion all alone. It was only when the house keeper, took the empty bottle away from my fingers, I woke up and then I realized I was kind of being late. By an hour.

Better late than sorry, right?

„Are you... drunk?” Syn was standing beside the round table, having a smoke, when my amazing persona appeared by the horizon, nearly falling out of the cab. Fine, I guess, I had poisoned myself a bit over the top, last night.

„Believe it or not,” I patted on my chest, „It’s just my personality.” If not for the sunglasses, I believe he would’ve screamed seeing my eyes. I was killing myself, and I was completely aware of it. At some point in my life, I wanted to be dead. I just didn’t have the courage to kill myself in an instant, that’s why I poisoned myself with cheap booze, which, to think about it, wasn’t so cheap after all.

„You’re late,” He hissed, dragging in a smoke.

„My deepest apology,” I couldn’t even see his face clearly, not speaking about giving an apology that sounded like I was regretting something. There were only a couple things in my life I really regretted and this? Showing up drunk? Was clearly not it.

„So why did you drag me here so early, without being a no-show yourself?” Did he sound offended or was I mistaken? But why did I drag him here really?

„Because the solo I heard the other day- sucks.” I shrugged. He didn’t evene respond to the insult the way I had wanted him. That made me sad.

„And you’re the one who knows anything about solo’s.” He snorted, blowing out a thick gray cloud.

„I don’t,” I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but I thought those couple of hours would do the trick of making me if not sober than at least more sober. And here I was, not being able to even stand still. My whole world was spinning like a merry go round. „But it’s what producers do. We make your life miserable,” Cause I couldn’t live with the thought of being the only miserable person in the room.

I heard him snort before he went inside not saying a word. I showed there up moments later and although the black leather couch looked very tempting, I knew if I’d happen to lay down, I’d fall asleep momentarily, so logically I took a seat in the chair next to Syn, in front of one of many mixing boards. He had turned his back on me as he played something on his black Schecter. How did I know the name of his guitar? Well... I knew a lot more than anyone ever suspected for me to know. I took my glasses off and rubbed my eyes angrily. Maybe I needed help... Hell, who was I kidding? I needed help, as soon as possible, I just didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. I braced my elbows on my thighs and pressed my forehead in my palms.

„Fuck!” He cursed every time I drifted away, keeping me from falling asleep. Why did I get him here this early in the first place? I couldn’t remember. Things I needed to forget I kept remembering, and those which I needed to remember, I kept forgetting. Figures.

„Mute the strings, god dammit!” I hissed, hearing the chair creaking under his weight. I supposed he turned to see me? I was not in the state to be worth seeing.

„What?” He asked like I was speaking a language he didn’t understand.

„Block the strings with your right hand. You’re making an awful noise instead of making music.” Oh, now I remembered why did I want for him to be here this early. I needed for him to understand how to practice on his skills, not how to practice on making mistakes. He was a great guitarist, I couldn’t deny that, tho I would never admit it, but even greatness could be made into perfection. And those who said there’s no such thing as perfection, were just a bunch of lazy ass people

„I’m just,-„

„I don’t care if you’re messing around or doing what everybody expects you to do... If I can’t fall asleep listening to what you’re doing, it means that’s bullshit. Once you learn to play without waking me up, you’re free from coming to studio until you need to do the recordings.” Was I crazy? I certainly was. Was this how I worked with every artist? No. I didn’t personally work with other artists, to be quite frank. I just had to say if what he or she had created with the technical staff is good or not. And I got payed for it. I could’ve done the same here. But I felt like torturing myself a little bit more than I used to on daily basis. That was just one of my kinks.

„Matt found an article on you yesterday.” He said simply. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would’ve kicked the concern out of his voice. I didn’t need any sympathy.

„Oh yeah?” I moved my head so my cheek was laying in my palm, as I opened my eyes, completely forgotten that I didn’t have my sunglasses over my gray, probably swollen, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t even blink twice when he happened to see them. I suppose they weren’t that bad. „Read something interesting?”

„What happened to you?” I fixed my vision on his orbs, who were softly piercing in mine. Softly? I sighed.

„And what do you think?” I retorted. Bottle after bottle and that’s how I got here. Like Nickelback said- I’ve been at the bottom of every bottle.

„You tell me.” His eyes kept piercing in my... soul, I guess. Did I have a soul? Too much wondering for the morning. Just shut it off, Jill. What? Your brain.

„It’s easy. Hi, my name’s Jill. I’m an alcoholic.” He kept quiet, not quite the response I was hoping for. „Now is your turn to say, ‘Hello, Jill’.”

„Before that.” Oh. So he noticed, I had slight problems with the alcohol. So he wasn’t neither that blind, nor as stupid as I imagined him to be.

„Nothing much. I harmed my hand,” I raised my left palm to show him the big scar which went straight over the bones of my knuckles. Maybe If I hadn’t been so drunk, I would’ve sent him straight to hell along his questions. But maybe I just needed to get a part of it off my shoulders.

Brian’s POV

„How?” I asked, looking over her fingers. Watching over her scar, left me thinking, how were her fingers even functioning. It was impressive, to be honest. I didn’t know her, but after what Matt had showed me yesterday, it was hard to be angry with her, even if she made me wait for good two hours in the morning, before she stumbled out of the cab, being completely wasted.

„Got into an accident.” She said dryly, closing her swollen eyes.

„What kind of an accident?”

„Doesn’t matter.” Yeah, it does matter. It was very easy to find information on her, you just had to type Jill Miller in the search engine, and you had everything lying in front of your eyes. She was a former guitarist in a band which name I happened to forget. Before reading further, Zacky checked if there was anything of her in youtube and we got lucky. There weren’t many videos, but we happened to stumble over one where she was playing a solo in Rock am Ring, many years ago. She nailed it to say the least, so it intrigued us. What went so terribly wrong for her to turn out this way? She truly was in an accident. A car accident to be more precise. She was in the car with her twin sister, who died on the scene. She was stated under the influence of alcohol, but thanks to magnificent lawyers, she wasn’t put in jail. She never returned to the stage after the incident.

„I think it does,” Her hand shoved the layer of her dark hair out of her face as she raised her head to narrow her eyes on me.

„Why do you keep asking me these questions?” She was trying very hard to fix her eyes on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even remember this conversation the next day. The best decision at the moment probably was to close my mouth, but I couldn’t. I had seen people like her. Hell, I was just like her at a certain time in my life, I knew what she was capable of and I didn’t want her to throw it all away as easily as she picked the bottles off Walmart’s shelves.

„I just think you need help...” I didn’t know if that was the wisest thing to say, but somebody needed to spit it out.

„Gee, where were you four years ago, when I could’ve used the spit in the face? Maybe would’ve knocked some sanity in my head.” Her index finger patted on her temple.

„I’m not spitting anything. I’m just,-„

„You know... Save it for someone who’s worth fighting for.” She pushed herself to her feet, cupping the sides of her head moments later. My arm reached out for her in case she falls.

„Where are you going?” A deep wrinkle formed between my eyebrows as she passed me by, grabbing a hold on everything she had in a reach of her arm. She couldn’t even walk straight.

„None of your goddamn business.” Her palm lied on the door isle.

„You’re my producer, I think it kind of is my business,” It was just a matter of seconds, before I was up from my seat and grabbing her forarm.

„Don’t fucking touch me,” She tried yanking her hand out of my grip, but she was too weak. I could feel her bones under my fingers even through the leather of her jacket. I pulled her back and she collapsed in my arms. „You don’t even know me,” My palm lied on her hair, soothingly caressing her head. This girl... She was so young, and I believed she didn’t have no one to pull her out of the shit hole she’d been living for the past years. A quiet sob escaped her pale lips as she tried to push me away, but I just pulled her closer, wrapping my other arm around her skimpy back. I could feel her ribs. She was just this resemblance of what used to be a healthy person.

„I don’t need to know you to see what’s wrong with the picture,” I whispered against her hair. She smelled of alcohol, tobacco and shattered dreams. A complete train wreck. Her tears were moistening my black v-neck shirt. If it wasn’t for booze, I didn’t think she would ever use me as her napkin.

„I don’t need your sympathy...” She let out a quiet sob, „I don’t need anyone...” Oh, but she did. If booze could get a restraining order against her, it would make a lot of things easier.

A damsel in distress.

I knew exactly what I needed to do.