By Degrees by Elle Casey
Tarin’s uncomfortable now, breaking his gaze away to look at the walls and floor. His legs twitch, his knees going towards each other and apart, over and over.
“You’re using women who don’t know any better than to throw themselves at you, you’re treating the people who helped get you to where you are rudely and accusing them of using you … all of these things are symptoms of a bigger problem.”
“Oh, yeah?” he says, his voice not as loud now but just as emotional. “What’s that, Miss Know-It-All?”
I shrug to ease the sting. “Lost. You’re lost. You’re wandering around in a scary place and you don’t know how to find your way back. That’s why I’m here. Let me be your guide.”
He jerks his eyes back to me glares. “Fuck you. I’m happy.”
“Be honest. You’re not happy. You’re miserable.”
He frowns at me, frustrated. “Who the hell are you to tell me I’m not happy, huh? You don’t know me. You don’t know me at all.”
“I knew a man like you. Once.”
“What’d he do, dump you?” He laughs at his own cruel joke.
I look down in my lap, gripping my hands tightly together in the hope it will keep me together too. “No, he didn’t dump me,” I say softly. My strength has abandoned me temporarily. I lift my head, tears making my eyes bright. I will them not to fall.
Tarin loses his smile. “What happened?” His voice is softer this time. I catch a glimpse of the humanity inside him, the man his friends tell me he is when he’s not high and drowning in darkness.
“He was a brilliant musician. The love of my life, actually. But he got caught up in the fame-and-fortune part of the life and got lost. I never got him back.” And I never brought him back, either.
“What do you mean, you never got him back?” He’s scoffing at my pain, trying to remain cruel and unconcerned, but I recognize it as a protective measure so I didn’t take offense. I try not to let it hurt too much.
“Or maybe I don’t want to know,” he finishes.
“His name was Austin Betzer.” I pause, waiting for the words to sink in. “You tell me what happened.” I want to hear him say it out loud. He won’t listen to me, but maybe there’s a chance he’ll at least listen to himself.
Tarin looks like he’s seen a ghost. He whispers, “Fuck me,” as his entire body goes slack, the aggression draining out of him in an instant.
His reaction is stronger than I’d expected, but I don’t let that stop me. “So now you know. Now you know why I’m here. You and I are going to work together and get your shit fixed, so you don’t end up in a body bag like my boyfriend did. It’s time to pay the piper for all the mistakes you’ve made. Time to man-up and turn your life around.”
Tarin leans over and grabs the orange juice, gulping it down. His gaze never leaves my face. When he finishes, he leans back, using the back of his hand to wipe the orange juice mustache off his upper lip. “So what’s that mean, exactly? Like what is it you want to do? Are you the fucking ghost of Christmas past or something? Are we getting lawyers involved?”
His abrupt change of attitude makes this situation completely different than the ones I experienced with my other clients. I hadn’t expected it to go this smoothly, so I’m temporarily at a loss for words. My silence seems to make him nervous, so I throw something out there until I can collect my thoughts. “Lawyers?” is all I can manage.
He gets a burst of energy and starts gesturing with his free hand while he talks. “You know, shit happens with people, right? I mean, you go out and you party it up … and shit happens. You have no idea when you’re about to go too far. You do one more hit or drink one more shot. No one ever knows when it’s too much until it’s too late, right?”
He leans forward suddenly and puts the empty glass on the table before dropping his head into his hands. He runs his fingers through the hair above his ears, like he’s massaging the sides of his head because he’s stressed out. “Fuck! … Fuck!”
I begin to wonder if he’s high. I hadn’t detected that he was under the influence when he arrived, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. I hope I’ve been speaking with a semi-straight person this whole time, otherwise I’m going to have to do it all over again once he’s clean.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He laughs bitterly and then sits up, staring at me intensely. “Okay? No. I’m far from okay, as you’ve so clearly pointed out.”
I stand, feeling like having a friend around right now is a good idea for him. “Mind if I invite Zach and Leonard in?”
He shakes his head, back to staring at the ground. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
I signal the bodyguard to come in. When he opens the door, I say, “Would you get Leonard and join us in here?”
He nods and disappears around the corner.
I sit back down and wait for Tarin to say something. I don’t want to stop his flow of thoughts with my own spoken ones.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” he says. Then he throws himself back into the cushions, staring at the ceiling. “After all this fucking time…Austin.”
“Austin’s been gone for two years. It’s not that long.”
He angles his eyes down to look at me. “Feels like forever. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for fucking ever.”
It seems like a strange way to describe the situation, but he’s the poet-musician, not me. “I know what you mean.” I lie when I say that, because to me it feels like it was just last week that I was staring into Austin’s bloodshot eyes for the last time.
“So when do we start this deal?” he asks as the door slides open to admit Zach and Leonard. He acknowledges them with barely a glance, before looking back at me.
“We have a deal, then?” I ask. “You agree to my terms?”
“Yeah, fine.” He tips his head back into the cushions and looks at the ceiling “We have a fucking deal.”
“Good. To answer your question, it starts today. You’re going to make an announcement to all your people and your team that I’m in charge and that they follow my direction. Tomorrow morning starts your healthy living campaign. You will get you up at six for your first workout. We’ll discuss the rest of the plan while you’re running on the treadmill after.”
Zach and Leonard take seats next to me and Tarin. “Don’t look so freaked out,” says Zach, nudging him in the leg. “We’ll do it with you.”
Tarin says nothing, he just lifts his head and stares at his friends with his mouth partway open, his jaw off kilter.
I continue, not wanting to break my rhythm. “I’m going to be firing some people. Whoever I let go, you need to support me on it.” Tarin presses his lips into a thin line but still says nothing, so I keep going. “Who’s supplying you with drugs? Is it Brett Campbell?”
Tarin sighs loudly before nodding and answering. “Yeah.”
“Okay, he’s gone. Zach and Len, I need you to make sure he stays away.”
“Consider it done,” promises Zach. Leonard nods his head in agreement. They both look happy about the prospect.
“What about Clay?” I ask. “Is he bringing drugs in too?”
Tarin folds his arms. “No.”
“What’s his function in your life? Because I know he’s not a friend.”
“He’s a friend.” Tarin acts offended but it’s too much. He’s defensive.
“Truth, Tarin. No more messing around.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. He brings the party guests.”
“He means the hoes,” says Zach, smiling mischievously.
Tarin scowls at him, but doesn’t deny it.
“Nice. So he’s the pimp.” I look at the bodyguards. “He’s out too.”
They nod.
I address Tarin, putting the full weight of my determination in my gaze. “You’ll call them when we get back to the dock and tell them yourself that they’re out. If they have any stuff at any of your properties, they have until the end of the day to get it.
He nods at me and then at Leonard. They exchange a look and some sort of silent agreement.
“Oh, man, no,” says Tarin, sounding desperate, “don’t make me do that. Please don’t make me call them and tell them to fuck off.” He’s begging and both Zach and Leonard look shocked at his tone. I can’t help but be surprised too. He’s always struck me as tougher than that. Maybe he’s not as heartless as he seems. Or maybe he’s just worried about missing out on the parties and the chicks.
“Sorry, but it’ll be easier on them in the long run if they hear it from the horse’s mouth. If they hear it from me they’re going to get their asses beat by these guys when they try to force themselves back in.”
Tarin bows his head and rests his face in his open palm. His voice comes out muffled. “Fine. Anything else?”
“How close are you to Jelly?”
He lifts his head suddenly. “What the fuck? I have to give up sex too?!”
Zach snorts. Leonard looks away to hide his face.
I smile, noting that he considers her for sex before companionship. I have a feeling she won’t be around for long if that’s the case. I don’t know why that makes me happy, but I shove the feelings away. “No, you don’t have to give up sex. But you have to give up all bad influences.”
Tarin looks at Zach. “Do you think she’s a bad influence?”
“Don’t ask me, man. I’m just the enforcer.”
He punches him sloppily in the arm. “Don’t be a fucking pussy, just tell me.”
Leonard joins the conversation. “She did get busted for DUI and possession. She’s got shit in her purse every time she comes to see you. She likes to get high.”
“So I’ll tell her to clean her shit up. She can stay clean with me.”
I shrug. “I’m willing to give her a chance. If she can do it, she can stay.”
“Fine. She stays then.” Tarin looks like he’s won something, and I’m happy to see it. I don’t want him going into this all beat down. He’ll do better if he has a hand in his recovery. Plus, his relationship to Jelly is nothing to me. Nothing at all.
“Anyone else on the chopping block?” he asks, some of his spark back.
“Maybe your drummer. We’ll see.”
He laughs, but more with shock than anything else. “What…? Dave?” He looks at Zach. “She’s kidding, right?”
Zach shakes his head silently.
“Fuuuuck me. That’s just fucking crazy talk right there.” He stares at me, half challenging me and half fearful of me. “You can’t kick people out of the band. That’s going too far.”
I narrow my eyes. “I can do whatever I want. We have a deal.”
He swallows with effort and then throws up his hands. His voice comes out an octave higher than normal. “Fine. Fucking kick Dave out, see if I care. Fucker’s an H fiend anyway.” He looks away, but not before I see his eyes going shiny.
“Don’t worry about Dave,” I say, hoping to calm him down. Tears aren’t a good thing right now. He’ll feel too vulnerable and I need him strong. “We’re going to try and help him too. I don’t want to do anything with the band. You guys are great. You just need to get your shit together again, that’s all. Dave sounds like he wants to help, so if he accepts it, he stays, not a problem.”
“I don’t even know if we have shit to get together at this point,” Tarin says, staring out the window at the ocean.
I stand, preparing to leave him alone so I can use the ship’s phone to call Scott. “Sure you do. The garbage you’ve been filling your life with has blocked some of your creativity, but we’ll get it back. Don’t worry.”
“You’re going to do all that … get our lives back and clean our shit up … in how long? A year?”
“Thirty days.”
“Thirty days,” he deadpans, looking at me like I’m nuts.
“That’s the deal.”
“Good luck with that,” he says, dropping his head back on the cushions and closing his eyes.
I leave the salon, sliding the door closed behind me.
Chapter Nine
SCOTT IS MORE NERVOUS THAN I am. I slap him gently on the arm. “Would you please chill? You’re going to freak us both out if you keep doing that.”
He’s bouncing up and down and flicking his hands around. I don’t tell him, but whenever he does that it reminds me of his brother. Austin used to do it before a show; he said it limbered him up and got the blood flowing. I should have known Austin was in trouble when he stopped doing it and just sauntered out onto the stage without caring. There were so many signs I ignored. Or maybe I felt powerless to control them. Either way, it was no secret Austin was in trouble and I didn’t do anything to stop the train wreck from happening. I was too weak and afraid. But not anymore. Now I’m in complete control. I will not let Tarin down.
Scott’s bending his head left, right, front, and back, like he’s exercising his neck. “I can’t chill out. What if he flips? It could get seriously ugly. You know I hate scenes.”
“We’ve been through this several times with other people and it always worked out. Why are you so jittery this time? You’ve never done this before.” He looks lost, so I grab his hand and yank it once before letting it go, trying to pull him back into our reality.
“This one is different.” He looks at me, real fear in his eyes as he grabs my arm with two hands. “Can’t you feel it? Tell me I’m not crazy and that you feel it too. It’s like … a tingle in my butt cheeks or something.”
“Ew. Bad visual. And for the record, you are crazy, but I know what you mean. He reminds me … of … stuff.” I shake Scott off as I look away, hoping to see people walking through the door; but it remains closed.
Scott isn’t done pestering me. “It’s Austin, right? I know he reminds you of Austin. He reminds me of Austin and I haven’t even met him yet.” Scott’s bouncing again. “This is fucking nuts, man. Nuts with a capital T for testicle.”
“He has the same intensity as Austin, but other than that, there’s no similarity.” I’m not sure I’m being exactly honest about that, because I sense the possibility of a lot of other similarities, but I don’t want Scott fixating on that stuff. He needs to keep his head in the game just like I do, and he’s even more sensitive about Austin’s death than I am. Austin was his hero and his only sibling. Aside from his dad, I’m his only family now.
The door opens and people begin to filter in to Mel’s living room. The relief that washes over me is calming, and it gets me back to the place where I need to be mentally. We’re here for the big meeting followed by a buffet dinner in the garden after. This is where the last group of people will be let in on our plans, surrounded by all the others who’ve already been notified. Tarin has promised to come and to be on time. Ricky assured me he’d get him here. I look at my watch. He has fifteen minutes left.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Scott stops bouncing as he stares at me. “Don’t play hardass with me. I know you see it too. It’s more than just their intensity that’s the same.”
I sigh. “Maybe they have the same intensity and their music style is similar, but that’s it.”
Scott snorts. “And they’re the same size, same color hair, and same attitude.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m calling you out. Truth.”
I press my lips together and scowl at him. We have an agreement, so I cannot deny him what he demands. “Fine. I see it, I feel it, and to be honest, I fucking hate it. I’ve been trying to pretend it’s not there since the minute we started following his story. But it’s awful, Scott, okay? It’s really, really awful to feel Austin so close again, so I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
He nods, his good humor gone. “Yeah, I get it. I do.” He throws an arm across my shoulders. “I’m sorry I pushed you, sis.”
A lump develops in my
I punch him in the ribs, making his arm drop. “Don’t worry about it, bro. We’re all good.” I never let Scott see how hurt I still am over what happened to Austin. I need to be strong for my almost-little-brother.
After he recovers from my abuse with some exaggerated deep breaths, Scott swings his arm up again to rest on my shoulders. “So … who’s ass shall we kick first?”
“I’m giving everyone a free pass today, unless they do something stupid in the meeting. We’ll see what shakes out after. And, Scott … I have something special I need you to do.”
“Yeah, you name it. I’ll all over it. Your wish is my command.”
“We’re moving in to Tarin’s place for at least the first week. I need you to stick to him like glue.”
His arm drops away. “Uhhhh … no.”
I smile, not even looking at him. “Uhhhh … yes.”
“Bitch be smokin’.”
“No, bitch be serious.”
He shifts to whining to try and convince me. “But I’ve got really important shit to do! I can’t be running around playing babysitter all day. This isn’t in my job description.”
I put my hands on my hips and face him. “Oh yeah? What important things?” He thinks he has me fooled.
“Very important things. Really, very, super important things.”
“Video games are not really, very, super important things, Scott. Try again.”
“Maybe not to you!” His face gets pink with indignation. He’s sensitive about his gaming. I think he spends so much time doing it just to avoid contact with other humans, and it makes me hate the games like they’re bad people. He thinks he’s developing hand-eye coordination which will somehow be critical to future plans he hasn’t even made yet.