Surge

2

My textto our Graphic Temple group chat got nothing but love in return. Tae and Quinn, for whatever reason, didn’t seem half as worried about this lawsuit as I was. Quinn even invited us over to jam at her dad’s place in Malibu.

This messed with my head because, of course, Quinn’s haunt wasn’t far from Maeve’s. Thank God Quinn had invited us in the daytime. Maeve would be at the office.

At the security gate, my favorite guard, Sanchez, saw me coming and beamed from ear to ear. Most of the guards didn’t get up from their seats if they knew you, only coming to the car window if you had to show ID. Sanchez mostly stood at the side of the guard booth pacing, running lines for his auditions.

“Hey, man! Haven’t seen you in a while. Is that why Miss Lewis looks so grumpy lately? Just kidding…”

Sanchez always made me laugh by saying “just kidding.” He finished just about every sentence with it. I didn’t laugh this time, though. He clearly didn’t know we’d broken up.

He also somehow didn’t know about Dixie’s stay in rehab and the fact that Maeve had plenty of things to make her legitimately “grumpy.” I’d said it once, I’d say it again. The Lewises were vaults. Sanchez wouldn’t have made such a joke if the news had leaked.

“I’m actually here to go to the Hartley residence today.”

He peered over the top of his aviators. “Oh, all right. I’ll have to check the list then…” He took a step toward the guard’s tower then turned back quickly. “Just kidding! You’re all right. Quinn actually brought me a Starbucks this morning on the way in and said you and Tae’d be by. She hasn’t been here for a while actually. You guys been on tour?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that like?”

Usually, I’d shoot the shit with Sanchez. He was an aspiring actor, and I hoped like hell one day he’d make it. He knew all the Hollywood history and rock ‘n’ roll trivia. I’d usually liked my five minutes with him before going to Maeve’s. But today, I wasn’t in the mood.

And I wasn’t going to Maeve’s.

“Touring is… it’s work.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve only been an extra, but those are some long days. One time I had the worst cramp. I was a wedding guest on set and had to be in the exact same dance position for like, hours. It’s not all fun and games. People think being an actor or musician is all magical and stuff, but it’s a job, too.”

“Mmm. But we are lucky when we get to live it.”

“We are indeed.” He walked over to a control panel and pressed in a code to lift the gate. He reminisced. “I loved that film. Only one where I was on-screen long enough for my mom to notice me. You have a nice afternoon. Not too cold for this time of year.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your next audition. Those who stick around longest are the ones who win here. Or so I’m told.”

“Ha! What do you know? You got struck by instafame.” He winked and saluted me as I drove in.

I probably looked like I was doing a drive by on my way to Quinn’s. I was laying so low I could hardly see over the steering wheel. It was stupid, of course, because one, I didn’t pass Maeve’s house. And two, she would normally be at work right now. But anyway, it wasn’t Maeve I didn’t want to see.

It was Dixie.

A housekeeper answered the door at Quinn’s and led me through a home much like Maeve’s but a lot less, well, homey. Maeve’s house had been huge and modern with lots of white and concrete, but incense burned, there was always yoga class music playing in the background, and it felt more like a retreat or a spa at hers.

Quinn’s felt like a museum with very few visitors. Expensive art plastered the walls, and there were statues and figurines on pedestals. All felt untouchable, it might as well have been behind glass. Our footsteps echoed as I followed the housekeeper through monochrome rooms. We finally reached an outdoor space where a sunken fire pit and heat lamps burned in the same hue as the setting sun.

“Drake!” Quinn rushed over with open arms. “Feels like we haven’t seen you in forever. Grunging it up in Seattle?” She hugged me. “How are you? Come. Sit.”

She led me toward some sofas far too plush and luxurious to be outdoor furniture, but the warmth of the heat lamps and fire made it feel like we were indoors anyway.

“Hey, man.” Tae stood as I got closer. He gave me a fist bump. “Got the bros back together.”

Neither of my bandmates seemed overly worried about anything, and I didn’t even get the feeling they were masking concerns. Just an average night hanging out in a mansion in Malibu for these guys.

“Oooh. I made the perfect winter cocktails.” Quinn reached into a fridge, from within the setup of a full-on outdoor kitchen, and pulled out a pitcher of a darkish liquid. “Well, actually, the chef made them. Negroni with orange?” She lifted the pitcher in way of offering. “Something a bit stronger than your usual IPA, Drake? Sorry to say we already started. Would you like a lemon drop shot?”

“Just some of that.” I pointed to the pitcher. “Looks interesting. Thanks.”

I sat and took in the lush setting. The sun set, ambient lighting took its place. Even though we were where most people would pay to be on vacation, it did nothing for my nerves. I was wired.