Oct. 24, 2013. Acacia Ave., Glendale, CA.
Scott
Things were different. Not in a huge way; I still spent most days writing half-ass music for other people who cared more about who I used to be than what I wrote. It wasn’t fun by any means, and I always felt kind of cheap, but it paid the bills. Most nights I stayed home, drinking too much and trying not to think about why I’d split up the band; playing rockstar to a bunch of screaming groupies had to be better than nothing, didn’t it?
It’d been about pride, but how much did I have to be proud of now? A borderline alcoholic with anger management issues, not enough skills to get a real job, and apparently not enough talent to make it on his own.
But things were different now, in little ways. I didn’t hate myself as much, for one thing. Yeah, I acted like it was the world I was pissed off at, but in all brutal honesty, I knew the real score. I judged everyone else, but I was way more harsh on myself. Until Taylor. He made me really think about stuff, about what I wanted, about how to actually get there instead of just pissing and moaning. He’d worked hard for what he had, fought tooth and nail. I wished I’d fought that hard. I wondered if I still could.
So I drank a little less, wrote a little more. Put more thought into what I sent out, and even more than that in what I kept for myself. And it felt good. It felt like progress. I still hadn’t actually finished a song, but I’d started plenty, and kept going back to a few. I felt like I was working on something again, not just a collection of rambling, but a cohesive thing. Something I was almost tempted to call an album, even though I was nowhere near that stage yet. But I was getting there.
I scribbled a few chords in my notebook when my phone buzzed; I set my guitar aside and dug it out of my pocket, grinning when I saw Tay’s name.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” he said simply. It felt good to hear his voice; he’d gotten better about keeping in contact lately. Part of me wanted to tell him what an impact he was having, the way he was changing how I looked at everything… but I still had a reputation to keep. Maybe not the best reputation, but I wasn’t ready to change that much… yet.
“How are things?”
“Pretty good. We’re almost done with this leg of the tour, so we’ll get a break soon…”
“That’s good. You gonna come visit?” I phrased it as a question, but we both knew better.
“Mhm, of course.”
“Can’t wait,” I replied, picking my guitar up and strumming a few notes.
“Whatcha playing?”
“Nothing much; just trying to write.” I didn’t feel like telling him I’d been writing about him… wouldn’t want my sub getting a big head.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard any of your music… least not since way back in the day.”
“Yeah, well Chapter 1 kinda sucks,” I laughed, but inwardly cringed; I hated thinking about that album, and everything it reminded me of. “We were still doing the whole teenybopper thing. Submodalities isn’t bad though, you should check it out.”
“I will, and I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said, and I could practically hear him grinning.
“I did a few solo numbers too; never got around to writing a whole album though.”
“Yeah? Well, I’d like to hear that too…”
“Well when you visit, maybe I’ll play something for ya.” I smiled at the thought of him sitting there, his sweet smile as he listened to me serenade him.
“That would be great.”
“I haven’t written anything in ages,” I lied. I wasn’t… okay maybe I was a little ashamed I was ghost-writing for other people. I’d used to say people who did that had no real talent of their own…
“No inspiration?”
“Not til recently,” I said smoothly.
“Any reason for that?” His tone suggested he knew the exact reason.
“Maybe…”
“Hm,” he mused, giggling. “I wonder what that might be…”
I thought about how to respond; my initial reaction was to say something sarcastic, but when I really thought about it, why not tell him? I was the one who’d said communication was the key, and it really wasn’t fair to him if I kept my mouth shut about how I was feeling. So much for my reputation…
“You,” I said softly.
“What, little ol’ me?” he giggled, either not catching my tonal shift, or ignoring it.
“Yes, Taylor. You.” We were quiet for a second, then he sighed happily.
“Well, I haven’t written anything about you yet, but I’m sure it’ll happen. Gets too busy to write much on the road, you know?”
“Yeah…” I knew, even though it’d been over a decade since I’d been ‘on the road’. “You really gonna write about me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Dunno… Gonna be some sappy love song?” I’d never admit it out loud, but I kinda liked the idea of him writing a ballad proclaiming his feelings for me. It was cheesy as hell… but it made me feel good.
“Well, I am pretty good at those…” he sighed, and I snorted; from what I’d heard, he was practically the king of the sappy love song. “You saying I’m not?”
“Oh no, you’re plenty good at those.”
“Just what are you trying to say?” he huffed.
“Well, just that your songs tend to be on the… safe side.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before…” I could just see him, rolling his eyes and pouting indignantly.
“I mean, what’s the raciest thing you guys’ve mentioned?”
“Oh we’ve written some racy stuff, people just tend to overlook it.”
“Oh?” This was news to me, but I was listening.
“Or the record company didn’t actually let us put it on the record… We slipped a few things by them on the second one, but apparently talking about lust and sleeping around was no bueno.”
“Just gotta choose your words carefully,” I chuckled. “One of our best songs is about…” I stopped, and cleared my throat. I hadn’t meant to dredge up that particular memory, but there it was.
“About what?”
“Just… drugs and stuff. And groupies.” I hoped he wouldn’t push too much; I really didn’t want to think about what I’d almost brought up.
“We’ve got a few songs about drugs… Not very vague either, but most of those were released after we got away from the label. And there’s a lot more sexual stuff than most people even realize. It’s just… vague, usually.”
“I see.”
“Some of the songs we just released for the fan club are a little more… creative, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirked, trying to picture Tay singing anything remotely dirty.
“Mhm. They’re not supposed to be on youtube, but I bet you could look a few of ‘em up.”
“Will do.” I didn’t feel like telling him I’d already downloaded half their discography, I just hadn’t listened to it all yet. I did remember one or two that sounded a little on the dark side, though. “Wasn’t there a song about a suicidal dude?”
“Um… well, kinda? If you mean Believe, that’s off of our third album.”
“Yeah, that one was pretty good. Depressing as hell for the Mmmbop boys…”
“Yeah,” Taylor replied, without a trace of humor. I sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of my nose; we’d already opened the can, no sense in holding back now.
“You should look up Antifreeze and Aeroplanes.”
“Okay.” From his side of the phone I could hear the clicking of keys, and then the opening chords of the song; oh god, was he listening to it now? I took a deep breath and closed my eyes; it’d been years since I’d listened to this song, and even when performing it I’d usually zone out. I wondered how deep Taylor would be able to read into it.
“Damn,” he said finally, after letting out a breath.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
“Was that um… from experience?” Tay asked carefully. I could have lied, I could have told him anything; but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to know. That didn’t make talking about it any damn easier though…
“Sorta.”
“I see…” He was giving me an out, a chance to just drop it. Bless his sappy heart. I heaved a sigh and braced myself.
“The one and only time I tried coke… me and… a friend. It was his first time too.”
“Oh,” he said softly, no doubt filling in the blanks. I didn’t want to say another word. But I couldn’t do that to Taylor… or to him.
“It was the last thing he did.”
“…Oh. Oh, Scott…” And there was the pity. I hated pity. I let out another shaky breath and curled my hand into a fist. “I’m so sorry…”
“I watched it.” I felt so pathetic, my voice breaking and trembling, but I couldn’t help it. “I watched him take his last fucking breath.”
I could see it now, behind my closed eyes. A trashed hotel room; a broken tv in one corner, a lamp knocked to the floor in another. Two stupid kids trying to be cool, too dumb to admit how fucking terrified of it all we were.
“I was fifteen, Taylor. Fifteen. Not even old enough to drive, and my…” I stopped, tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it. “He died in my arms.”
“Oh, baby,” Tay whispered, sniffling. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah…” I cleared my throat, wiped my eyes. I’d told him, and now I just wanted to move on and forget it again. As much as I ever could, anyway.
“So that’s why it’s a deal-breaker,” I told him; I figured he’d probably made that connection already, but I needed to say something to put a period on that part of the conversation.
“I understand,” he said softly. And I could tell that he did. “I wrote a song about my… my thing, too,” he said after a minute. “But you probably don’t wanna hear that.”
“Of course I do.” Why would he think I wouldn’t want to hear anything of his? Sometimes I wanted to smack him for how insecure he was… but that probably wouldn’t help.
“Got A Hold On Me. Believe is kind of about it too, but not as much.”
“Mhm.” I looked around my empty apartment; whether it was because of the stupid dredged-up memories or whatever, I really didn’t want to be alone right then. “Miss ya.”
“Miss you, too.”
“Thanks. For listening.” I guessed I did feel a little better, but I still hated that cold, dull ache in my chest.
“Any time you wanna talk, about anything, I’ll listen. God knows you’ve listened to plenty of my shit,” he added with a chuckle.
“I know. Same goes for you too. And you know I don’t mind,” I reminded him, smirking.
“And I don’t mind listening to you. I like getting to know you… all of you.”
“Especially the part where I had drunken orgies with my brothers?” I teased. He gave a flustered, nervous laugh, and I smirked wider. Now this was a conversation I could get into. I sat up, grinned, and lowered my voice.
“Turned you on, didn’t it?”
Grand Floridian Resort, Orlando, FL.
Taylor
I wondered if Scott was just trying to distract me from our more serious conversation. A part of me wanted to be annoyed that he couldn’t talk so deeply for very long, but I also knew the conversation had likely taken a lot out of him. Because of that, and the fact that with just those few words, he had managed to turn me on, I decided to let his sudden subject change slide, and mumbled an affirmative response to his question.
“Just like it turned you on to get fucked by me and your baby brother?” he continued.
“Yes,” I replied, the word coming out in a pathetic whimper. If I were honest, I was still a little sore from that; if I were completely honest, I didn’t mind at all.
“He’s not half bad, ya know,” Scott said. “Not as good as you maybe.”
“Thanks.” I giggled nervously, remembering what Zac had looked like with Scott behind him. “And yeah…. he’s pretty good.”
“Mouth made to suck cock,” Scott remarked.
I groaned at the recent memory of just that. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Hell, he could probably suck both of us at the same time,” Scott continued, seemingly too lost in his fantasies to even notice how they were affecting me.
“P-probably,” I whimpered.
“Tight little ass, too,” Scott added. “He been following your rules?”
“I th-think so…” I replied. “He’s a little bitch, though.”
“Yeah, he is,” Scott agreed, chuckling. If he only knew.
“I took his toy away,” I admitted sheepishly. Although we had talked over the last few days, it had mostly been very quick calls or texts; I hadn’t had a chance to tell Scott about that little encounter on the bus, and I wasn’t really sure how to tell him.
“Really?” Scott asked, the word coming out in something of a gasp. “How’d he take that?”
“He didn’t seem all that upset, actually. But he’s like that. He’s just gonna keep acting out.”
Scott chuckled. “Might need to teach him another lesson.”
“Yeah… I guess,” I replied, knowing that was easier said than done for me.
“He still a biter?”
“N-no,” I replied, thinking that I had actually been the one doing most of the biting lately. “But he was trying to like… push me around and stuff.”
“Oh, really?” Scott asked. “Little bitch trying to get punished?”
“Definitely,” I replied, having already puzzled that out for myself and realized that Zac’s natural instinct was to push buttons until he got the reaction he wanted.
Scott chuckled. “So what’d you do to him?”
“I… well, I haven’t punished him yet. I will, though.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Scott asked. He wasn’t pushing yet… more like gently nudging, really, but it still felt like I was being made to play the role of Dom faster than I was ready for.
“Haven’t really decided,” I admitted.
“You figure out what he likes yet?”
“W-well… he’s really into pain,” I said, the words a severe understatement. “Like, really, really into pain.”
“Really, really, hmm?” Scott repeated, no doubt mocking me. “And how’d you discover that?”
“We were… we were kinda fooling around,” I admitted softly.
Scott chuckled. “It’s okay, babe. You can tell me.”
“I know,” I replied, even though I wasn’t all that convinced that Scott was happy to hear about the things Zac and I did in his absence. Yet, I supposed it was better to tell him than to lie about it, even if it was just a lie by omission. “And, well, I was going down on him, and he wanted… nails. And teeth. Lots of teeth.”
“Hmm, kinky,” Scott remarked.
“And he just kept saying ‘more,’ you know? I was afraid I was really gonna hurt him, and not in a good way.”
“Yeah, you need to be careful,” Scott replied, and I was glad he wasn’t dismissing my concern as just inexperience. “Sometimes a guy gets so deep he ignores his limits.”
“Well, he wouldn’t let me stop anyway,” I said. “Kept shoving me back down and shit. And yes, he’s going to be punished for that.”
“Made you his bitch, did he?” Scott asked, chuckling softly.
“Kinda,” I mumbled, not wanting to admit that but not having left myself room to deny it.
“Yeah, that is bad,” Scott agreed. “You’re my sub. Not his.”
“I know,” I replied softly.
“Might have to punish both of you for that.”
I whimpered at the thought of that. “Okay.”
“So eager to please,” Scott remarked, chuckling again. I mumbled my agreement, and after a brief pause, Scott suggested, “Think he might want to try a studded paddle?”
“He might,” I replied, swallowing hard. I didn’t think I needed to add that I wanted to try one, too. The small stash of toys I kept at home were more novelties than anything really hardcore, and I was desperate to try something that might actually satisfy some of my urges.
“You should get one; try it on him,” Scott continued. “But… don’t tell him. Blindfold him first, and surprise him with it.”
“Oh… that’s kinda evil,” I replied. Sheepishly, I added, “I like it.”
“Thought you might,” Scott replied, and I could have sworn I could actually hear him smirking. “As for you… you ever thought about getting pierced?”
“Y-you mean… umm…” I stuttered out, fearing the worst. Of course Scott didn’t know I was somewhat afraid of needles.
“Just a nipple,” he replied. “For now.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “I… I could probably handle that.”
“Yeah?” Scott said. “Good. I wanna see it when you get here.”
“Okay,” I replied, suddenly realizing just how soon I would have a break from tour that would allow me to visit Scott. Remembering that made me relax a little. Softly, I added, “And I was thinking… that plug you left me…”
“Hmm, yeah?” Scott asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Well, I thought that might be a good punishment for Zac, too. Just make him wear it around. All day. During a concert, even.” I giggled a little as I finished my train of thought.
Scott chuckled. “You are evil.”
“Learned from the best.”
“Flattery isn’t gonna save your ass. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I replied, not adding that I really didn’t mind if my ass wasn’t saved.
“So, your first piercing, huh?”
I giggled. “No.”
“No?”
“Nope,” I replied. “Had my cartilage pierced before, when I was about sixteen.”
“Huh,” Scott said. “Full of surprises.”
“I guess so,” I replied, giggling again. “It never really healed well, though, and I had to take it out to get past this really pissy airport security guy. Couldn’t get it back in, so I just let the hole close up.”
“Wuss,” Scott remarked through a snort of laughter.
“Yeah, well, I was still in that ‘why do I enjoy letting my baby brother punch me’ phase then, too,” I replied, glad that I could actually joke with him about that, this thing that I’d kept hidden and never really understood myself. After Scott’s laughter died down, I added, “Always thought about having it done again, though. Or maybe piercing something else. Just couldn’t decide. And I’m not sure the wife would really approve.”
“Yeah, well, she can get over it,” Scott replied.
“I guess so,” I said, trying not to think about the fact that I would be seeing her very soon. In fact, I had to pick her up from the airport the next day. The thought must have exhausted me even more than I realized, because I let out a huge yawn that I was sure Scott heard.
“Aww, baby getting sleepy?”
“Mhm,” I replied honestly. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Get some rest, babe.”
I yawned again, then replied, “Okay.”
“Hey,” Scott said softly. “Love ya.”
“Love you, too,” I replied, sighing happily. I didn’t want to think about the next day, but just hearing those words from Scott made me forget for a moment.
“Sweet dreams, babe.”
“Goodnight, Scott.”
After ending the call, I rolled over and pressed my face against the pillow. We were in the supposed ‘happiest place on earth’, and yet I was just this side of miserable. That was a bit of an exaggeration, but being away from Scott was a sort of hell I hadn’t experienced since the few bad comedowns I’d had before finally kicking the coke habit. The fact that I was at Disney without my family–at least for the time being–only made it feel even more wrong.
It wasn’t exactly like I wanted my wife and kids there, though. As soon as I had that thought, I hated myself for it. But being on tour, away from them, made it easy to forget all the things I was risking by being with Scott. Still, being alone in the Magic Kingdom made me just feel like a creepy old man. It was only for the next few hours, though; in the morning, Natalie and the kids would be arriving, and I knew that if I didn’t at least give her a phone call before I went to bed, I would hear all about it the next day.
With a groan, I pulled myself off the pillow and scrolled past all the calls to and from Scott until I found my wife’s name. It was an hour earlier in Tulsa and she was a last minute packer, so I didn’t worry about waking her up.
“Hello?” She finally answered after several rings, sounding surprised. I supposed it had been a few days since I had called, but I had never been good at keeping in touch on the road.
“Hey, Nat,” I said softly. “Just wanted to check in, even though I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
She sighed heavily and I could picture her collapsing onto a couch full of toys that the kids were insisting she pack. “I would say it will be good to get away, but at this point, I think it will be more stress than staying here. But it will be nice to see you…”
There was just a hint of a guilt trip in her words, and I was sure that she knew I picked up on it. I shifted my phone from one ear to the other to keep her from hearing my sigh, then asked, “Is it still just you and the kids, then?”
“Well, Diana and Zoe are coming,” she replied. “And Nikki and the kids. But they’re all on a different flight, because something weird happened with my reservation. I don’t know. But the nanny has some big project at college that she can’t get away from, and Kate said Junia has come down with something awful. Some bug going around the preschool, I guess. I don’t mean to sound spoiled, but without her and Sarah, I don’t know how I’ll manage.”
“Hey, you’ll have me,” I said, somewhat teasingly. We both knew I would be too busy with the concerts to do much parenting, and I had never claimed to be a great father, anyway. When it came to discipline and child corralling, Natalie was the expert, not me.
“Maybe it will be good,” Natalie replied. “I mean, I know we’ll still have the kids, but maybe we can get some alone time…”
“Maybe,” I rasped out, my throat suddenly very, very dry. Even if that were possible with five kids to keep up with, the levels of guilt that would cause me to reach might actually kill me. Whether I felt more guilty for cheating on Natalie or cheating on Scott–not to even mention Zac–I wasn’t sure.
“Is everything okay?” Nat asked. As always, she could read me so much better than I often wished, even when I said nothing at all.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m just tired, you know? I’ll be ready for that nice, long break.”
“Well, you get some sleep, alright? I’m going to go take all iPads away from all children in this house who should be sleeping!” The last was, of course, not directed to me, and I pulled the phone away from my ear so as not to be deafened by it.
Chuckling nervously, I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Nat.”
“Goodnight, Tay.”
I hung up before she could say anything else. I didn’t need to be guilted, intentionally or not, into making emotional declarations that I just wasn’t in the right headspace to make right then.
What I was in the headspace for… I wasn’t really sure. I was suddenly very, very antsy. Coming just this side of lying to Nat, thinking about all the ways I was letting her and Scott down–it made me get that familiar itch. I needed something to take the edge of, and since I’d given up the drugs, and my Dom–who made it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate me going back to those drugs–was thousands of miles away, I didn’t have many options. I could go out on the balcony and smoke a cigarette or ten, but I didn’t think they would help. But I had a feeling I knew what would.
I hurried to put my pants back on, made sure I had my wallet and headed off to Zac’s room to see if he was up for a late night adventure.