Elements of a Selfish Desire

Brian returned the morning of the next show as promised. Other than a quick hello in the lobby as he passed through, nothing else was said. It wasn’t that no one cared, everyone was just focused on what they needed to do to prepare for the gig. They knew well that if the guitarist wanted to talk, he would. They had that night and the next day in that town, and then three more shows in three different cities before they had a break in the schedule. Those precious thirty six hours had everyone sleeping for the most part; all except for Zack. In fact, he hadn’t gotten much shut-eye since his supernatural meeting with Vengeance.

While he was not 100% positive he could trust his other side, he was sure that the wisdom he possessed was far greater than what he himself had. In just the last six days he had covered more ground than he had probably in the last two years. It was amazing what one could learn and accomplish when they opened up their mind to it. He was not to the point where he was using his abilities on a daily basis ‘just because’, but he definitely found that he was becoming more open to the idea.

His quest to find the whereabouts of Jimmy was still in the back of his mind, but he knew if he wanted to find him, he had to delve wholeheartedly into figuring out who he was. Omega, however, was another story. The mysterious woman had appeared to him in strange dreams twice since her last appearance in his hotel room. It was driving him crazy. He wasn’t even sure if her cameos in the late night visions were supernatural in nature, or if his increasing curiosity of her true identity was causing him to see her even while he slept. Vengeance didn’t have much to say on the subject, and while that bothered him, he had come to learn they worked together much better when he didn’t press certain issues. He was a stubborn son of a bitch, not unlike himself at times, so he knew it was better to let some things lay as they were until a more appropriate time.

The rhythm presently sat in a rather plump chair in the hotel that he didn’t recall the name of off-hand. On today’s docket was the art of blocking. It was something he knew his therapist was an expert at, but he himself knew virtually nothing about. A soundproof room would be a good example of the basics of the skill, but as he was in the process of learning, it was so much more.

“February fourth, 2007.” Vengeance stated, and gave a flick of his hand. “Reset.”

“This is pretty ridiculous,” he complained in a slight sigh. “You are a part of me. How the heck am I supposed to block something out of my own mind?”

“That’s not exactly how this works. Never mind that now, come on. Reset. And switch.”

“Alright.” A pause came as he awaited further instruction. When none came, he raised an eyebrow, “Well?”

“It’s time for you to pick your vice.”

“Here?”

“Have we mastered the art of teleporting?”

“Hilarious.” Sarcasm dripped heavily off the solitary word, but he stood anyhow.

Blocking was notoriously used to combat mind reading, as well as prevent sound from being transmitted to the world around the crafter. This exercise was a bit different, because Vengeance wanted him to see and hear that it actually worked. Funny, it was like he knew the guitarist was skeptical to begin with. Oh, he knew it was real. He also knew it worked; he just wasn’t convinced he himself could pull it off.

“The bathroom faucet? Really?”

“It’s a quite ingenious choice, actually. I can turn it on and block it with the ability, and it is a source I can both see and hear, which satisfies the human side of me.”

“Hmm,” his projection gave a half nod now. “I guess you’re right. Continue.”

*
Normally when someone had to fly home on tour, they came back refreshed. Or just a hair less stressed, at the very least. Not this time. Brian was more aloof now than when he had departed several days ago. Though numerous different people had broken down to ask him what was bothering him, none received an answer. That didn’t sit well with the other guys, let alone Zack. He had thought for sure everything would have worked itself out by the third day, or at the very latest, the fifth day, but he was wrong. More than a week had come and gone since the lead’s return, and he seemed to act even more strangely as time passed.

Though the green eyed man wanted to confront him in a different manner, time was running out before the next show, and he wasn’t so sure he could do another set with the mannequin that had replaced his best friend. When they were supposed to be running scales at soundcheck, he was staring at the ground. With the house lights on him for a solo, he had his back to the crowd each time. If everyone said they wanted to meet for lunch at two, he would agree, then say he’d already eaten when he showed up. If he joined them to begin with, that is. Zack couldn’t figure it out, and it was frustrating the hell out of him.

Yes, he had an inkling of what the issue was. Deep down inside, he knew that it was something more than just problems with the wife. He did not know that was it for sure, but he suspected something was going on there. He couldn’t help but recall Vengeance’s ill-fated words for the man, not to mention the dream that he’d had a while back about him. He knew. In his heart, he knew; but he kept shoving that hybrid-instinct aside, and though he should know better by now, he allowed his human side to try and balance everything out in his mind. The result? Had to just be marital problems. Unplanned pregnancy, cheating, or something else of that nature. Would that make him happy to know? No, but it was better than what was in his mind.

“Problems with Christina?” he asked bluntly when he bumped into the subject of his line of thoughts in the hallway later that day.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Chocolate eyes were sunken, bloodshot, and he looked like he’d been in a fight the previous evening, though Zack knew he hadn’t.

“You need to.”

“Nothing to say,” he replied simply as they stepped into the elevator together.

“You need to say something, man. I know you’re going through the ringer, and I get that—”

“No, you don’t.”

“But you’ve gotta say something. You’ve barely said two words a day to any of us, and people are starting to question whether you’re okay or not. You might as well sit in the back room and have a cardboard cut out on stage, dude. That’s not like you at all, so say something to me.”

“Chris and I are getting a divorce.” Thin lips stated while tattooed fingers dipped into his pockets. His eyes did not leave the same spot on the floor he seemed to have been favoring lately.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Ding! the doors opened and the duo stepped out of the lift to go their separate ways. Though he was pretty hungry, the rhythm let out a small sigh and turned on his heels.

“Brian, wait.”

He stopped, but didn’t put forth the effort to move to face him. “Yeah?”

“Want some company?”

Silence surrounded them for an extended moment. The response took so long, Zack almost took it as a no and left. Just as he was about to, chocolate eyes lifted from the ground for a second.

“Yeah.”

*

The concert that night went better than the others had over the last nine days. Zack wasn’t sure if they played better, the crowd was more responsive, or if Brian opening up even just that little bit changed his countenance enough that it relieved some stress within the band. Whatever it was, it was a more energetic show, and their fans deserved that. They themselves deserved that. What they also deserved was a night out. It was on everyone’s mind, but Matt was the first to point it out. They went off stage just after ten thirty, returned to the hotel about eleven fifteen, and everyone was showered, dressed, and ready to meet in the lobby by a little after midnight.

Despite the fact that none of them really wanted to be in a club that night, the city they were in had limited options. Johnny shelled out a pretty penny for a VIP table, which put them on the third level looking over the balcony at all of the writhing bodies below. Wasn’t necessarily the best seat in the house, but it was just a tad bit quieter than a normal table just off the dancefloor on the main level. The singer started the night with a round of Jager for everyone, followed by something called a water moccasin, and the shortest of the four ordered a double shot of fireball. By the time everyone got their beers, the alcohol was buzzing through their systems. They could all hold their liquor well, but each could already feel the effects for so early in the venture.

“Are you alright, dude?” Johnny asked with a sideways glance over at the lead, who seemed to have gone a bit ashen.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Of course he’s fine!” the singer belted with a clap of his hand to his friend’s shoulder. “He just needs more Jager! HEY! Another round of Jägermeister!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want more Jager,” the rhythm said before he could stop the words. He wasn’t trying to mother him, honestly.

“Of course he does! Everyone wants more Jager. HEY! WAITRESS! More Jager, now!” Matt hollered a second time. He was satisfied only when the woman passing by gave him the nod that she heard him.

“I’m good, just a little heartburn is all.” His face scrunched up as he said so, which attested to the fact.

Within another minute and a half, two waitresses brought another round of the singer’s drink of choice. Apparently the first had heard him afterall. Both rounds of the strong substance were downed immediately by the bassist and singer, followed a bit more slowly by the guitarists. Johnny hollered out, and ordered another round of shots. This time, of Tequila.

“Oh, no.” Zack shook his head. “I’m going to sit that one out. You can take mine.”

“I’ll take it. I haven’t had a night out free of the wife and kids for long enough, I deserve it.” Matt noted with a curt nod.

“I’m good with that.”

“You can have mine too, man.” Brian said with a wince. It was clear he was in pain.

“Are you sure you’re good, B?” the hazel eyed man questioned now. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel the greatest.” He grunted. With a hand to his side, he took a sharp intake of breath and held it momentarily. “I’m gonna go get some air. I’ll be back.”

Ten minutes went by, then twenty, and then thirty. Matt and Johnny had taken another handful of shots, and Zack had slammed back a few more himself. They were having a grand old time, and it felt good for sure. The problem was, that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It just wouldn’t go away.

“I’m gonna go check on Brian.” With a slap to the table, he added, “Order me a Jack Daniels. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”