The soft sound of Alex’s voice woke me the next morning. Maybe it wasn’t so much the words he spoke but the tone in which he spoke them that drew me from my sleep.
“She’s kind of odd, Riley. I mean she carries me drunk into her apartment without knowing anything other than my first name. She answers my cell phone like she’s done it a million times. She runs after me down empty streets when she should have just gone back to her apartment. She knows nothing about me and yet she opens herself up to me so completely, starlight,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonderment and awe, confusion and understanding, longing and completion as he spoke to a long dead woman.
“I know you’re awake,” he said softly, his hand once again stroking my long black hair.
“How did you know? I haven’t moved,” I asked. “The beating of your heart. I can feel it and it changed,” He answered.
“So am I your resident oddball you were telling Riley about?” I asked, softly.
“Yes, though I can’t really say you are any weirder than the world thinks I am,” he answered.
“The world holds an opinion of you?”
“You don’t know who I am,” he stated, but I could tell from the tone of his voice he wasn’t talking to me. His statement was said in quiet surprise to himself.
“Am I suppose to know who you are, Jack Daniels? I know your name is Alex, you’ve lost someone you love, and from the looks of this room you probably have a little bit of money,” I said, my eyes drifting around the beautiful decorated bedroom.
“Ever heard of the Backstreet Boys?” he asked me.
“Aren’t they that vocal group that kind of vanished off the face of the earth two years ago?” I countered, the group sounding familiar but I wasn’t positive.
“That would be us. We haven’t done an album since Nick lost Riley, since we all lost her. Nick had the kids, Brian got married, and Kevin and Kristin are trying to start a family. We just never went back. I couldn’t go back. Music wasn’t the same after I lost her,” he explained.
“So you’re some huge rock star?”
“I use to be,” he answered.
“Weren’t there five of you? You said Nick, Brian, and Kevin. Who’s missing?”
“Howie. It was his sister Polly that carried Gabriel and Star for Riley,” he said, tightening his grip around me, as if afraid I would disappear.
“Nick was the one I talked to on the phone. Alex, he misses you. They all miss you. Pick up the phone. Call them. Let them know they haven’t lost you along with Riley,” I pleaded, turning finally to look up into those brown eyes that haunted my own dreams, eyes so tortured.
“What do I say to them?” he asked me as if I had all his answers, as if I had all the answers to the world.
“How about telling them you are still here, that you need help. Maybe you should tell them you don’t know what to do without her. They lost her too, Alex. They loved her and they saw her die. Just let them know you’re all right please.”
He lay silent for a few more moments, his hand still stroking my hair. Then finally he spoke.
“In a little while. I’ll call them in a little while. I just don’t want to move yet,” he answered softly.
“Tell me about A.J. Who is he?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Alexander James. A.J. kind of evolved in light of the BSB, he’s a persona, a mask I give the fans. He’s the wild man of the group, dyed hair, weird hats, crazy moves on the stage,” he answered.
“A.J. hides Alex from the world and Jack Daniels hides Alex from himself,” I said.
“I don’t drink to hide from myself,” he argued.
“Then why do you drink?” I shot back.
“I don’t know but it’s not to hide from myself. There’s nothing about me to hide from.”
“Except your pain, your anger, your loneliness, your fear. Should I go on?” I asked, pulling free of his arms and sitting up to look down at him. “Everything you do is to hide from the man you are, Alex.”
“I still don’t understand why you give a damn.”
“Neither do I, but I know when I close my eyes at night you haunt my dreams, your eyes filled with so much pain drift through my sleep. I can’t walk away from you knowing you’re hurting like this. Now please go call your friends. Please.”
He nodded then slowly left the bed. At the door he looked back at me where I still sat in the center of the bed.
“What are you going to do?” he asked me.
“I don’t know. Go home I suppose, shower, dress, call Frankie and let him know I’m all right. Why?” I countered.
“No reason,” he answered, shaking his head sadly as he walked out.
“No reason my foot,” I mumbled crawling off the large bed. I followed him out of the room and downstairs.
Sliding to the floor, I leaned against the wall and did a horrible thing. I listened to his phone call. Thank God for speakerphone.
“Hello?” I heard a voice answer after a couple of rings.
“Hey, Howie,” Alex greeted.
“A.J., man where the hell are you? Are you all right?” Howie demanded.
“I’m fine, D. I’m at home and I’m alive.”
“What’s going on, A.J.?” Howie asked, his voice quieter, more concerned then his original greeting. “Where have you been?”
“Drowning,” Alex answered, softly and I could hear him sitting down.
“What?”
“I’ve just been gone, all right?” he snapped at the voice of a friend who had once been one of the best.
“A.J, I’m coming over,” Howie announced.
“No,” Alex yelled. “No, Howie.”
“Why not? A.J., I’m worried about you. We’re all worried about you. Why won’t you let me come over and make sure you’re all right?” Howie asked.
“Because I don’t want any company right now, D.”
I stood up then and walked into the room with him.
“Alex, don’t push him away,” I whispered, hoping the man on the other end of the line couldn’t hear me. No such luck.
“A.J., who is that?” Howie asked. “Who’s there?”
“Please, Alex,” I begged, touching his arm, hoping against hope that he would let his friends back into his life.
“Greer, Howie. That was Greer,” Alex answered, looking at me with his dark eyes. His face was filled with confusion and anguish. He didn’t know what to do, he had been lost in his own pain for too long.
“Who is Greer, A.J.?” Howie continued.
Alex looked first at the phone then at me as if wondering himself what that answer was. Then quietly he spoke.
“She’s a friend, D. She’s a friend.”
“And so is he so let him come, Alex,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Whoever she is, A.J., listen to her,” Howie added.
“All right. All right, I’ll see you in a few, D,” Alex conceded.
“Thank you, Greer,” Howie said before hanging up.
“It’s time for me to go,” I told Alex when he turned off the phone.
“How are you going to get home?” he asked, looking down at me with worried eyes.
“A cab, same way I got here,” I answered, smiling.
“Let me take you home. After Howie leaves I’ll drive you,” he offered.
“No. You need time alone with him to rebuild the bridges you’ve been trying so hard to burn. Take care, Jack Daniels,” I said, quickly hugging him and then I left his home before he could say or do anything to stop me.
On the cab ride home I thought of him. Some how he was finding a place in my heart. I knew that deep down he was a good man, a man easily loved by the people in his life. He needed to find his peace and move on. I prayed that he did. I also knew that when he found his peace he would no longer need to drown his sorrow in a bottle on the stool at the end of the bar in the Lonely Star. He would no longer have a place in my life and I knew that I would miss him then. Possibly as much as his friends now missed him.
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