Do You Love Me

"Fuck that, man. You guys are putting that song on there to carry the record. If you don't think my songs are good enough, that's one thing. To tell me that you're not even going to consider them without hearing them? That's absolutely unacceptable to me. That's not how it worked..."

"This isn't back then, Jordan. This is our band now. You had your chance to..."

"Fuck you, asshole. Record it yourself."

I ended the call and wished it were a desk phone, so I could've slammed it down. I thought, "Fuck that prick." I knew it was he and Ryan carrying the weight of the band for the previous decade, but I was still an equal part of the band. We made the same splits financially, and I'd be damned if they wouldn't give me the respect of at least listening to my shit. Hell, I hadn't written a song in twenty years, and when I finally did, it was a fucking hit. I was beginning to regret joining the band again.

The rest of the evening, I was lost in thought about why I was joining the band again. I knew it was primarily the money, but why did I want the money? I could have lived comfortably on my royalties, and I had a decent amount of money in the bank. I wasn't a millionaire anymore, but I was still well off and had plenty of earning potential. So, why did I want more money?

I realized it was for Jenny. I wanted to be the rich rock star that whisked her away into a life of comfort and ease. I shook my head knowing that it was a stupid reason. Her family had money. Hell, her inheritance was probably more than I would be worth after the contract ended, why did I care so much about it?

My ego wasn't that big anymore. I was happy when things stabilized after the mortgage market meltdown. I had some money in the bank, I had a quarterly royalty check that while not making me rich, was keeping me in high clover. Did I need the aggravation of being in a band again? Shit! I realized I might have already quit.

*****

Ryan and Chris called every half hour for three days. I ignored every call. I had two calls from our agent who was making his list of things I needed to be comfortable in the studio and on the road. I didn't tell him I was on the outs with the guys, and apparently, they hadn't either. I told him to make sure I had plenty of pink Starbursts and blue peanut M&M's just to give him something to do. I knew Chris hated sushi, so I told him I absolutely had to have sushi for lunch three days a week. And not those fake sushi California rolls shit. Real raw fucking fish.

On the fourth day, my phone stopped ringing. It was a Saturday, and I was watching some of the old recordings from my attic with Melody and Jenny. Man, did they laugh at my hot pink and fluorescent green spandex. Thankfully, by mid '88 Ryan and I ditched the spandex and wore jeans. Chris still wore spandex jump suits, copying Steven Tyler. It drove me nuts back then, but it was his ass showing, not mine. The chicks didn't care. I tell you, that man got laid like no ugly man I've ever met.

At exactly noon, my doorbell rang. Melody got up and ran to the door.

"Day-ad, it's for you," she shrieked.

I saw him as I walked up the foyer. Ryan.

"What brings you out here?" I asked flippantly.

"I want to hear the songs," he said and walked into the house brushing past me. The bastard was still the size of a linebacker, so I let him. Yeah, I was a scrawny pussy.

I shut the door and when I walked into the living room, he was hugging Jenny.

"Hands off, dick. We're going upstairs," I shouted. It was unnecessary. Ryan wouldn't do anything with her, and she certainly wouldn't with him. I just wanted to keep him uncomfortable.

"Sorry, man. I was just saying hello."

"Shut up and head upstairs."

I walked past them and took the stairs two at a time. I walked into my music room and grabbed a set of headphones and hooked them up to my old four track tape recorder. The thing was from the stone ages but worked like a champ.

He walked in and looked around. He smiled when he saw the pictures on the wall from the old days.

"I remember that show," he said. "That was our second gig. I didn't know there were pictures from that show out there."

"I've got pictures from all of our first shows. Some video as well. My parents were at all of them and got some great stuff."

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked. "We could put that stuff out in coffee table books or DVD releases. Hell, we could do a box set and..."

"Easy there, Mr. Businessman. I didn't think anyone cared about that early shit until my kid told me she had people asking her to put it on the YouTube all the time. She was afraid to tell me she had that YouTube page until it was too late, and I found out."

"The fans will eat that shit up," he said. "Don't you read the message boards online? Haven't you kept up with the fans?"

I shook my head no.

"Jesus. You need to check it out. Are you even following our Facebook page?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, my God! Dude, we're the same fucking age. Get out of the stone age. Talk to your kid. She'll get you set up. Anyway, let's hear the songs you're willing to quit the band over."

"It's not that I'm quitting the band, Ryan. It's the fucking way he dismissed me. He didn't say you would listen and think about it. He just shot me down. Fuck that disrespect, man. You guys never did that to me in the eighties. Hell, Chris was my biggest supporter, forcing me to write and sing shit. That's how we got our biggest fucking hit, remember?"

He rolled his eyes and took the headphones. "Look. That wasn't me, and I'll agree he was wrong about how he went about it. He just feels really strongly about the songs we have ready to go."

"What if I don't like them?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You'd be outvoted."

"Right." I knew it. "Just listen to the songs. Do you want something to drink?"

"Water, thanks."

I left him to listen to the songs. I walked downstairs and saw two ladies staring at me as I walked into the living room.

"What's this all about?" Jenny asked.

"He wants to hear the songs I'm willing to quit the band over."

They both shook their head and went back to watching the same show from a different night. I looked at the TV, and said, "That's the show I fall on my ass and had to finish it sitting down."

I heard Melody gasp as I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed the water and as I walked past the girls, I saw that it was the part of the show where I played my guitar solo. I stopped to watch and was amazed at how young I was. I looked like a little kid playing dress up, but I shredded that night.

I walked back into the music room and tossed Ryan his water. He took the headphones off and said, "We'll do the songs, but I think Chris should sing the second one. Your voice doesn't work in that range anymore."

I nodded my head, trying desperately to hold back my smirk.

"Are we cool, man? Do I need to do an intervention between you assholes?" He asked referring to my tiff with Chris.

"We're cool. I'll be at your house next week. Just make sure my bed is comfortable, and I don't want to see you walking around naked."

We laughed, hugged, and he left. Unbelievable. I was shocked he flew all the way to Ohio just to listen to the songs. Jenny later told me that she thought he wanted to be there in case I wasn't okay, and he needed to talk me back into the band. That made sense to me.

*****

The first few days of recording the album were to get the drums recorded. The rest of us played along with the drummer to give him a feel for the changes and holes he had to fill. It also served as a good opportunity for us to practice the songs. Chris and Ryan already knew them, so I had to catch up. I was able to do so quickly enough, and I mastered my parts with no problem.

The first cracks in the surface of my mind happened when I had to record my first solo. We'd been rehearsing and recording parts for two weeks and I wrote all of the solos during my down time. I actually wrote the solos. I didn't merely improvise and play along with the tape. I took the time to structure each section and made sure each solo told a story.

One of the solos I wrote was complicated a bit harder to play than I was ready for. When it came time to record it, I messed it up countless times. I got so frustrated, I threw my headphones at my amplifier and kicked the chair across the room.

"Take a break, Jordan," Ryan said through the speaker.

I walked out of the room and into the kitchenette that was outside the recording room. I threw the fridge door open, grabbed a Miller Lite and chugged it without thinking. After letting out a huge belch, I looked at my hand and saw the crumpled can. A tear fell from my cheek, and I dropped to my knees. I couldn't understand how I could drink a beer so quickly without thinking about it. I worried for my future again.

I wasn't worried returning to sobriety after falling off the wagon after the death of my marriage, and then again after Danny's death. Those triggers were gut wrenching. I was resolved to not drink again and was confident I wouldn't. But that beer in the studio was different. I was only frustrated over a fucking song. Two months before, a song wouldn't even have mattered to me. I needed to get it together.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Chris and Ryan standing behind me.

"It was only one beer, buddy," Chris said quietly. "It doesn't have to lead to any more."

I stood and wiped my face. "I..."

"Don't beat yourself up for it," Ryan said. "Relax, and your next round of sobriety starts right now. It's one day at a time, right?"

I nodded. "Do you mind if I take a few minutes? I just need to talk to Jenny for a bit. I'll be ready to start again shortly.'

"Take all the time you need," Chris said. I knew he meant it.

I walked outside and called Jenny. Unfortunately, I got her voicemail.

"Hey, baby. I, um, needed to talk. I screwed up and drank a beer after I got frustrated, and well, I just needed to hear your voice. I'll call again later. I love you."

I sighed and sat on the bench in the garden behind the studio. I watched birds use the feeder and listened to the wind blow the leaves on the trees and bushes. It was so peaceful there. From that point on, I'd use that spot to center myself and relax for the rest of the sessions without falling again.

I'd been to enough AA meetings to know that one slip doesn't mean the end of the world. I just had to stop it there. I believed I was strong enough to do that and I had to prove it to myself and everyone else.

I called my daughter and got her voicemail too. It just wasn't my day to reach my support team.

"Hi, honey. I needed to talk to you, I, well, don't worry. I just, well, never mind. I'm sorry to bug you on a Saturday. Have a good day. Love you."

*****

I put my phone in my bag and said, "Okay, guys. Let's try again."

I walked into the recording room and saw that everything was back in place. The chair and headphones were in their original spot. Their having to clean up after my tirade made me feel bad. It was a minor thing, yet I'd use Ryan having to clean up after my tantrum to motivate me. Like I said, it was silly, but it helped. I was well and truly embarrassed that I let my frustration take me that far out of control.

I warmed up for a few minutes and called for the playback of the song. It took four more attempts, but I finally nailed the part I kept flubbing. I sat back and took a deep breath. At that moment, I realized I could make the album, and do it as well as I could've in the old days. I just had to stay focused and stick to my sobriety plan.

Six grueling hours later, I recorded several more solos and was ready to wrap up for the night. We were listening to the last one I put down, when the studio door flew open. We all turned our heads to the door and were shocked to see Jenny and Melody run into the room.

"Daddy!" Melody shouted and ran to me, grabbing me into a big hug. "Are you okay, I'm sorry I didn't answer I was in the pool."

"Easy, pumpkin. It's okay." I looked up and saw Jenny with a tear in her eye waiting her turn. I held my arm out and invited her in for a group hug.

"I'm okay, girls. It was just a beer. I'm fine."

"What happened?" Jenny asked.

"I wrote too hard of a solo and got frustrated," I said with a laugh. They looked relieved but still concerned.

"Look, we're just about done here. Are you hungry? I'll take you to dinner," I asked.

"I'm not sure I could eat," Jenny said.

My daughter laughed and said, "I'm starving. Can we get pizza?"

Ryan laughed and said, "You're in California, kid. You can't get good pizza here."

We all laughed, and I waved goodbye to Ryan and Chris.

As we walked to my rental car, I said, "You guys didn't have to fly all this way. You could've called."

Jenny squeezed my arm, "I didn't know what to expect. I tried calling like ten times, but you didn't answer. I kinda feared the worst."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, sorry. I don't have the ringer on when I'm in the studio. I didn't think about that."

"How did you get Sara to agree to send Melody?"

She laughed, "Sara still loves you very much. It was all I could do to convince her not to come. She was very worried, and about to jump on a plane with us."

I shook my head. "Thanks for that. I don't want to see her."

"Will you ever forgive her, dad?"

"No. Never."

Melody frowned.

*****

Jenny decided to stay with me while I finished my parts of the record. Sara decided to fly out and escort Melody home, because she wasn't comfortable with our teenaged daughter flying alone. I understood that, yet I couldn't help but think that it was a ploy to see me. Maybe I was too conceited?

I was standing in the terminal with Melody and Jenny, waiting for Sara to come through, and I was extremely nervous. Both of my girls were holding my hand while we chatted about what was upcoming in Melody's life. It wasn't ten minutes before Sara walked through a crowd of people.

She ran up to me and hugged me. I didn't return the hug, but that didn't stop her from squeezing me as if she would never let me go.

"How are you doing, Jordan?" she asked.

"Fine," I said backing away from her.

We stood there in silence for a few moments before I said, "Well, goodbye kiddo. Thanks for coming out, I appreciate it more than you know."

Melody hugged me and started to cry. "I love you, daddy. Please take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, pumpkin. Don't worry about me."

Sara said, "Will you be okay, Jordan? We can stay until you..."

"No," I said abruptly. Probably too abruptly, because Jenny frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound mean. Thank you for caring enough to want to."

"I'll never stop loving you, Jordan. We will be soulmates forever."

I laughed and turned to walk away, but I stopped and said, "It's too bad you couldn't keep your legs closed."

I walked away leaving a crying Sara being consoled by my annoyed daughter.

"Jordan, wait!" Jenny shouted as she chased after me.

I stopped and she grabbed my hand and led me to a bench.

"Jordan, you have to end your hatred of Sara. It's beyond time to bury the hatchet."

"You don't understand," I said.

"I understand. How do you think I ended up a single parent?"

"Okay, you know how it feels to be cheated on, but she did it to me in front of a televised audience."

"Yeah, I know. When you were sitting in that hot tub, did you think you were in front of an audience of millions?"

I shook my head. The cameras were turned off when the dirty shit went down. I didn't know about the hidden cameras. Come to think of it, I should've sued the show. I wondered if there was a statute of limitations on that.

"Jenny, I know what you're saying. I really do. It's not something I hadn't thought of before. She was there to be my rock. She was there to help me stay straight. She was not there to fucking blow my marriage to smithereens by fucking her favorite rock star."

"I'll never forgive myself for what happened, Jordan."

I looked up and Sara and Melody were standing in front of us. Both were crying.

Before I could stand to walk away, Melody sat on my lap and hugged me.

"Jordan, I would do anything to change what happened," Sara cried. "To this day, I can't explain what came over me. I know that doesn't matter, I know I have no valid excuse, but I love you as much as I did when we married. I've never stopped, and it kills me that I ended us."

I looked away and I knew if Melody wasn't stopping me, I'd have run. I always ran from Sara.

"Jordan, please look at me," Sara begged.

I ignored her and Melody whispered, "Daddy, please."

I took a deep breath and turned to face Sara. Melody stood and sat next to Jenny on the other side of the bench.

"Jordan," Sara started, "I know you're with Jenny now and it kills me. Please forgive me and let me be part of your life as we raise Melody. I'm begging you for just that little scrap. Someday, we'll have grandchildren..."

I laughed.

Sara paled and looked down.

I said, "So, you're gonna extort my attention by using future grandchildren against me?" I looked away and scoffed in disgust. How dare she?

She started sobbing and the next thing knew, I was sitting alone and the three women in my life were in a group hug.

I shook my head as a middle-aged man approached me.

"Excuse me, sir. You're Jordan Shock, right?"

I sighed, "Yeah. Look, this is a bad time..."

"No, sorry. I'm not looking for an autograph or a picture or anything. I just wanted to thank you."

He had my attention and I stood, "For?"

"Tara's song. My little boy was named Justin."

A tear fell down his cheek and a woman walked up.

"It's him, isn't it?" she asked.

I nodded, then she started crying.

I asked, "How did he die?"

"Cancer. Just like Tara," he said and then grabbed me in a hug. "We've listened to your song a hundred times. It means so much to us."

I was shocked. I started crying with them and we were suddenly in a group hug. I didn't realize it then, but a crowd started forming.

"When I first heard the song, it was like you were telling our story."

I smiled, "When I wrote it, I wrote it as if it were my little girl who died. I needed to feel how her parents felt. I've never told anyone that before."

They took a step back, and he said, "I've loved your music since I was in high school. It's the best song you guys have ever done."

"Look," I said, "can I do anything for you? I don't..."

He laughed, and said, "Oh, my God! You couldn't do anything more than what you have. Last week I told my accountant to send the foundation one hundred thousand dollars."

I almost fell. Before I knew it, Jenny was at my side holding me up.

"What's going on?" Jenny asked.

"He just told me he is giving the foundation a hundred grand."

She laughed and said, "Thanks for the joke. We've had an emotional day."

"It's no joke, I assure you," he said.

"Well, if that's true, I'm Jenny Mason. I'm Tara's sister."

That started another round of tears.

"Miss Mason, I'm Alan Grant and this is my wife, Kelly. Jordan's song spoke to us as if he wrote it for our Justin. I assure you, your foundation is getting that donation," he said.

He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"Jordan, if there is anything that I can do for you, anything at all, call me day or night."

I looked at the card, saw he was an attorney, and handed it to Jenny. I would have lost it.

"Thank you, Alan. Believe me, I'm glad my simple song touched you so deeply."

He smiled and gave his wife a side hug, "You have no idea. I'm serious, Jordan. Anything you need, you call me."

I nodded and they both hugged me again before walking off to catch their flight.