Do You Love Me

"YES!" I said, too excitedly. "Um, I mean, yeah, I can do that."

I shook my head and sat back down. I couldn't understand why I acted so foolish with her.

"Great!" she answered. I could almost hear the smile on her face. Maybe she liked me after all? "There's a nice little steakhouse in the nearest town. We could..."

"I'll meet you there at 7 o'clock," I blurted as I finished the math on my drive time. I'd have to shower, shave, find something to wear. I was acting like a sixteen-year-old girl.

She laughed. "Okay, I'm free tonight."

"Great! I'll see you soon."

"Jordan," she said quietly. "I'm excited, too."

I smiled as we ended the call. Things were looking up. I had no idea how up they would be going though.

As I was driving up to Jenny, I got a call from Chris.

"Hey, Jordan, you're not gonna believe this but we secured a deal to release Who Dares Wins."

"Get the fuck out of here! Who wants to put that fossil out?" I asked incredulous.

"Big Cigar Records," he said. "Chaz works with them and he's dying to capitalize on the new single. He already bought the masters and rights for the record."

"You played it for Chaz? That fucking rat!" I was pissed.

"Look, he's the president of a record company now. You may not have liked him babysitting you twenty years ago, but you needed it and we needed you semi-sober."

I sighed. "Whatever. What does this have to do with me?"

"He wants to sign all of us, and that includes you. That includes a tour and two more records."

"NO!" I shouted. I heard Chris take a deep breath.

"Jordan, think about it. He is giving us a half million each up front, plus 20 points on CD and 30 points on digital sales."

"Dude, I have no idea how digital works. That's not a selling point."

"Jordan, it's practically unheard of to get that much. That's how bad he wants us."

I pulled the car over and took a deep breath, "Chris, I can't do a tour. I don't think I'd survive it."

"Jordan, we're going to be there for you. There's no way we'll let you relapse if that's what you're worried about. You've lasted this long for all these years..."

"I fell off the wagon after I saw the show and then Danny's death..."

"Christ, man. We didn't know. "You're back on, right?"

"Yeah, so far so good."

"Great! I'm glad. It's a start, right?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered with a sigh. I knew I'd do everything I could to not fall again, but I had no support. I couldn't be with Chris and Ryan all the time. I was worried about the pressures of touring, recording, and being a rock star again. As much as I needed the money, I didn't think I could survive it.

"When does he want an answer, Chris?"

"By tomorrow."

I laughed. "You know he wants to take your leverage away, right?"

Chris laughed. "Yeah, he wants to lock us down before the song hits and other labels fight him for us."

"I tell you what, Fuck that snake Chaz. Let me think about it for a week. That will give me time to figure out how and if I can manage getting back into the scene, and it will allow Tara's song to get some downloads or whatever. If that song is going to be as big as everyone thinks, let them fight each other for us."

"Okay, man. I'll put Chaz off for a week. Listen, Jordan, your sobriety is more important to me than this deal. Ryan and I will understand if you don't think you can do it."

"I appreciate that, old friend. I really do."

I ended the call and got back on the road. I knew how the digital platforms worked. I spent a lot of time doing the research on it when I finished the song. It was also written in the contract I signed with Ryan and Chris. That deal was getting us 15% of the revenue on the digital single sales. In the old days, we got 12% of the album sales on our first three albums. The second contract we signed got us 18% for the next three. Ultimately, we only made five records before they dropped us. We had to release a live album and greatest hits album to meet the terms of the contract, since they rejected the fifth album. A lot of companies wouldn't have let us get away with that. The label just wanted rid of us, so there ya go.

I wondered if there was a market for that shelved album. It wasn't the poppy hair metal we released with the first four. It was a far harder edged record of which we were really proud. We went from being contemporaries of Poison, to an Ozzy Osbourne No More Tears type of sound. That was a huge record in '91. That's why we were so shocked that they didn't want to release it. It didn't help that our label had set up an office in Seattle and signed several Grunge acts in late '91/early '92.

1992 changed the world. Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam shook the scene in '91, but in '92, Alice in Chains, Rage Against the Machine, and Stone Temple Pilots shot out of the cannon and knocked us all over like bowling pins. The other side was, Metallica was still riding high on the Black album, and Guns and Roses had success with Use Your Illusion, so we felt like we could compete with that Seattle shit, like they were, but the label didn't even want to take the chance. Idiots.

In 2012, I still followed the scene, thanks to the internet, and there was a huge market for the nostalgic concert tours. All of our contemporaries seemed to be touring, and the biggest acts were doing stadiums again. It was much better than 10 years earlier when Chris and Ryan were begging me to go out on tour again to play clubs.

In 2011, Bon Jovi and Journey were top 25 tours. Kiss, Rush, and Guns and Roses, were also having successful tours. Why couldn't Goblin Nob have a good second run at success? I decided I'd really consider it that time and not blow it off as I did a decade before.

*****

I walked into the restaurant and saw Jenny sitting at the small bar. It was a rustic place, decorated to look like a log cabin, but by the look of the tables and dress of the servers, it was higher end than a rustic log cabin restaurant.

"Hi, Jenny," I smiled as I approached her.

She looked up from the drink menu and smiled brightly. She looked amazing in a typical little black dress. When she stood to greet me, I saw the length was to mid-thigh and she was wearing black stockings. Her black stilettos finished off the sexy look and I was drooling.

"Hi, Jordan."

She opened her arms as I neared, and I kissed her cheek before hugging her.

I thought, "So far, so good. Don't be a dork."

She squeezed me hard, and I loved the feel of her breasts against my stomach.

"You look amazing, honey. That's a hell of a dress. I'm going to have to fight the guys off with my guitar tonight."

She laughed and slapped my shoulder. "Whatever. I'm a one-man woman."

She paled and said, "Oh, crap! I'm sorry, Jordan. I didn't mean to..."

I smiled and kissed her cheek again. "Don't worry about it. I'm long over her."

She nodded and I asked, "What's good on the menu?"

"I was about to order a martini. Would you... crap!"

I laughed and said, "It's okay. You can drink when you're with me. I'm not going to have one, but there's no reason you have to walk on eggshells around me. I'm not that sensitive."

"Your table is ready, ma'am," came a voice from behind me.

It was just in time. Jenny was feeling too uncomfortable, and we needed a bit of a reset. I hoped she would ease up in her mind and stop worrying about me, although I was nervous as hell and worrying about making a fool of myself. So much for the uber-confident rock star.

*****

"Tell me about some stories from your rock stud days," she said as she dipped her prawn in the cocktail sauce.

I smiled and said, "Clean ones or dirty?"

"Oh, dirty," she smirked.

"Well, my favorite story is from when we were recording our second album. Our drummer Danny was wasted on some combination of bad chemicals, and we had to lay some drum overdubs down. It was the strangest thing; he could play the drums, but he couldn't hold his head up. I volunteered to stand behind him and hold his head up by his hair. To this day I think he was just messing with us, but he never admitted to it."

She laughed, and said, "He must've been joking around. That's crazy."

"That was Danny."

"What about you? Did you ever do anything that bad?" She asked.

"Well, there was a show I played when I was really drunk. I could barely play, and I definitely couldn't stand. I tripped over myself and fell on stage. My guitar tech helped me up and another roadie brought out a chair so I could finish the last few songs sitting down. Our singer told the crowd I twisted my ankle to cover for me, but if you watch the video, it's obvious I was wasted. It wasn't my finest moment. I'm not exactly proud of a lot of what I did back then."

She frowned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"How about this one," I changed the subject quickly. "I was at a hotel bar and a large group of women ran in and started screaming at me. I smiled, stood, and got ready to pick out my roommate for the night, when they all ran past me. I turned around and saw Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora sitting in a booth behind me."

Jenny snorted and almost spit out her drink as she laughed at me.

"The good news," I continued, "was those two mere mortals couldn't manage all of the women, so eventually I got to pick from their scraps when they left."

She shook her head, "Well, aren't you the ladies' man?"

"What can I say? Groupies that don't land the boys from Bon Jovi love me."

She laughed and said, "I always thought you rock stars dressed flashy. You're dressed like..."

"A forty-year-old dad from the suburbs?" I teased.

She nodded.

"That's what I am. I haven't lived like a rock star since moving back to Ohio. I'm not that guy I used to be."

"I'd imagine someone rich and famous couldn't live in the suburbs," she said.

"Well, I'm neither rich nor famous, anymore. Don't get me wrong. People still recognize me sometimes. But with the short hair and extra twenty years on my face, it's not that common."

She frowned, "You were in a huge band. What did you do, blow all of your money on drugs and fancy houses?"

That irritated me and I tried not to show it. I looked deeply into her eyes to see if I could figure out where she was coming from. I wondered if she was disappointed that I wasn't rich? Or was she disappointed that I didn't care to be famous?

"No. I didn't blow the money. I got beat up in the stock and real estate markets after a couple of crashes, and then I had to give my slut of an ex-wife more than half of it. After my losses in the meltdown a couple of years ago, I'm sure she has more money than I do and I'm still paying alimony."

The waiter came over and dropped off our entrees. "Perfect timing," I thought.

As we ate our steaks, we didn't talk about much of anything. Just the normal, "How's your steak, the potatoes are good, aren't they," kind of stuff. I wondered if she was totally turned off by my lack of whatever wealth she thought I had. It was a shame. I really liked her.

*****

The waiter brought the check, and I was relieved because our conversation hadn't improved much. It became businesslike, talking about the foundation and how well it was doing as a result of her doing something as simple as giving back me my guitar. Don't get me wrong. I was extremely interested in that and was happy I could help them help others. Little kids with cancer are the worst thing I can imagine. I know I'd be crushed if my Melody was sick.

I reached for the check, and she tried to grab it.

"I got it, Jenny."

"No, I made you drive all this way and waste gas. I'll pay the check."

"Jenny, do you think I'm broke or something?"

She lowered her head. "Well, you said..."

I laughed. "Jenny, I'm not bankrupt. I'm not wealthy anymore, but I'm doing fine. I can certainly afford to take you to a nice dinner AND pay for my gas."

"I'm sorry. I've made myself look like a gold-digging ass, haven't eye?"

I smiled, "I'll admit, I was beginning to wonder about your intentions for a bit there."

She frowned. "I'm really not. I don't care about your money. I like you a lot. Please tell me I didn't mess us up."

I took her hand, "I don't think you messed anything up, well, if we keep seeing each other, that is. If you suddenly turn into a ghost, I'll know what the deal is."

She smiled for the first time in a while. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd like to see where this goes."

"Me too."

"Good. That's settled. Do you have to get home, or can you come up to the cabin? Mom and Dad would love to see you and you can meet my son."

"I'd love to meet your son."

She kissed my cheek and said, "Follow me."

*****

When I walked into the cabin, it was not what I expected. I hadn't realized how well off they were. It wasn't a cabin as much as it was a two story 3000 square-foot house. Like the restaurant, it was designed to look like a rustic log cabin but was much more. I had barely made it in the door before I was attacked by Mary, Jenny's mom.

"Jordan, oh, my God! Thank you, you wonderful man!"

John laughed, and said, "Sorry, man. She's been talking all week about the unbelievable increase in donations to the foundation. It's been a helluva couple weeks for us."

"I bet," I said. "I'm glad it's all working out."

"Jordan," Jenny interrupted. "This is my son, Michael."

I smiled, "Great to meet you, Michael. That's my name, too. Well, my birth name. it's Michael Jordan."

He laughed, "Yeah, I know. Mom told me all about it when I was a kid. Wanna guess what my middle name is?"

I looked at Jenny and she blushed. "I kinda named him after you."

John patted me on the shoulder as Mary finally let me go. "Tara wasn't the only one of my daughters with your posters all over her bedroom."

Everyone laughed and Jenny's face turned even redder.

"I always liked being the fuel for young girls' fantasies."

Mary slapped my shoulder and said, "Can we get you a drink, stud?"

"Just some diet pop if you have it. Otherwise, some water would be great, thank you."

Jenny led me by the hand into the living room and motioned for me to sit on the couch next to her.

John asked, "How well do you think the song will do, Jordan?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I have no idea. Besides the fact that it was written for your daughter, it's the reunion of the surviving members of Goblin Nob. Chris seems to think that will be a major selling point. It turns out, our little band is in pretty high demand all of a sudden."

"Really?" Michael asked. "Are you getting back together?"

I laughed. "I don't know how to answer that. I was just offered a lot of money to join back up and do a couple records, and a tour."

Jenny brightened up. "Are you gonna do it? It sounds like a fantastic opportunity."

I sighed, "I really don't know what I want to do. It's a really terrific opportunity, but there are some real strong concerns I have with doing it."

"Like what?" John asked.

"Well, I've never played onstage sober. I'm not sure I can do it."

"You can do it, Jordan," Michael said. "You're one of the best guitarists ever."

I laughed. "I don't know about that."

Mary came in with my diet pop, and said, "I know you can do it, Jordan. Anyone with as big of a heart as you have can do anything they set their mind to."

I sipped my drink and said, "I wish it were that simple, Mary. I really do."

"When do you have to decide?" Jenny asked somewhat sadly.

"I told them I'd have an answer for them next week. I want to see how the initial sales of the single go, and then I want to see how badly the record companies want us. I guess if the money's too good to pass up, I'll probably do it. At least for the short term. I'm far too old to be dancing and jumping around on stage in spandex pants again."

Everyone laughed and Jenny got a dreamy look in her eyes.

"If you're a good girl, I might pull them out of the closet—just for you," I said with a wink.

Jenny blushed and Michael picked on his mom for quite a while after that.

They were such a great family, and easy to talk with. I stayed and visited for an hour before I realized the time and decided I had to go.

After arguing about why I couldn't stay when they offered me the guest room, Jenny walked me out.

"You named your son after me?" I said as I opened my car door.

She put her arms around my neck and said, "Who do you think turned my sister into a Goblin Nob fan?"

I leaned down and kissed her. It was one of the nicest kisses I can remember getting.

She pulled back slightly and said, "Thank you for coming to see me. I couldn't wait any longer."

I kissed her again and said, "When can I see you again?"

"I think I'm going back to work on Monday, so I'll be back in town Sunday."

"Okay. Keep in touch. I'm not sure how crazy my schedule is going to be over the next month."

She smiled. "Jordan, if you need a rock to rely on to help make your decision—I will be there for you."

That earned her another kiss. "Thank you, Jenny."

*****

Somewhere around the halfway point home, I decided that I would rejoin the band. The deciding factor was the money. It was a lot of money, and I knew we'd make even more by touring. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the worry that if I didn't do it, Chris and Ryan would try to force me out of the band's corporation. I still got a quarter of what the band made by sitting on my ass for all those years Chris and Ryan were keeping it alive. They made way more than I did because they were still writing songs and still touring, but general band income went into the corporate coffers.

I called Chris and gave him the news.

"Fuck yes, Jordan! You won't regret it and I promise you; your sobriety is priority for us. If you're ever in danger of falling, let us know. We'll be there for you."

"I appreciate it, Chris. Keep me posted on any offers we get."

As I ended the call, a worry swept over me. "What the hell did I get myself into?" I strongly doubted I'd make it out unscathed.

I thought back to when I first started playing guitar. I didn't start playing until I was sixteen. Kind of a late start, but it didn't hold me back. I played it night and day. Within three months I was playing blues-based solos by Clapton, Page, and others, but by the time I was playing for a year, I was able to play pretty close to note for note and up to speed Eddie Van Halen stuff.

My guitar teacher quit trying to teach me technique and started to focus on music theory. I learned how to play classical music pieces, and more importantly to my style, how to structure my solos like mini classical pieces. It was so much harder to do that than playing Van Halen stuff. I learned everything Randy Rhoads ever wrote, and I learned more Yngwie Malmsteen songs than I care to admit. I was obsessed with the neo-classical sound.

The problem with that was, that style of music was falling out of favor. In the mid-eighties, music was becoming very segmented. Heavy metal, hair metal, hard rock, you name it, each had their own rabid fans. Mainstream rock music was getting more pop sounding, as opposed to the classic hard-rock sound of the seventies. The Los Angeles music scene was churning out bands like Ratt, Quiet Riot, and Poison. Glam was more in style than harder metal-sounding music.

I took that classical music theory and turned it on its ear so it fit what would later be known as the hair-metal sound. As a result, my solos were very melodic and unique sounding, unlike some of the blues-based solos that were aggressive and familiar sounding. Most of my contemporaries were trying to mimic Eddie Van Halen, while I was trying to produce something completely different.

None of that mattered. Once I joined my first band, I realized I couldn't fit what sounded great in my ear to what sounded good in a song. I ended up playing in the same style as my peers, but better. When Chris walked into that club when I was eighteen, I knew then that I was playing with the wrong people. Chris had vision. He had drive. There was no one as enthusiastic as he was about his music and making it as a rock star. I couldn't wait to join his band. The rest was history.