Rock My Body
Page 25
“‘Man in the Box’ by Alice in Chains. I know that’s probably not exactly what you were hoping for, but it was all that I could think of.”
I ponder over the song he’s just given, trying to recall in my brain the lyrics, but nothing comes up. “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with that song. Can you tell me a little about what it’s about?”
Tyke smirks. “Not a metal fan then, huh?”
“Not really, no, but I know that’s what Black Falcon plays.” I blush again, knowing full well, after all my research that it’s the type of music he plays.
He picks at the thick leather cuff on his wrist. “It’s cool if you’re not a fan. Metal isn’t for everyone, I suppose, just please tell me you’re not one of those chicks who’s into the bubblegum sounding top forty hits. That would break my fucking heart.”
I laugh. “If you’re talking about all the music that sounds like it could be on the Disney channel then, no, but I won’t say I’m a pop hater. I like anything with a good beat, but I’m more of an alternative girl.”
That earns me a smile. “Alternative? Nice. I can work with that. I’ve been really diggin’ the Artic Monkeys lately.”
“I love them,” I say, excited that someone else appreciates the complex sound of that band. “‘Do I Wanna Know’ is one of my absolute favorite songs.”
That causes him to raise one eyebrow. “That’s a pretty deep song. Does it make you think of anyone when you listen to it?”
I instantly shake my head. “No. What makes you ask that?”
“That song is basically about a guy who is so lovesick he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I was curious if I need to be concerned that you’re already in love with someone else, and you turning me down a few minutes ago had more to it than just the off-limits factor. I like to know exactly what I’m up against.”
My stupid blush rushes back to my cheeks in full force as his eyes stay locked on mine, waiting for my answer. The heat of his stare is almost too much to take, and I’m tempted to drop my eyes away from his gaze, but I don’t. I want him to know that I’m in control of the situation going on between us.
After a long moment, I sigh. “There’s no one else, but—”
“That’s good to know,” he says, seemingly delighted by the news.
“I meant what I said before. Nothing can happen between us.”
He holds up a hand and tries to fight back a grin, like he knows no matter how much I resist, my giving into his advances is inevitable. “Strictly professional, I got it.”
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and say, “Good. Let’s get back to the song. I’m going to guess it’s about a man being trapped.”
Tyke nods. “Yeah. After being basically on lockdown in my room last night and ordered to be on time for breakfast, I feel a little closed up in this place.”
I make a note about checking into the daily routines of the clients a little more with Wayne. “What did you do when you went up to your room last night?”
“You want to imagine me in my room? Sleeping in the buff, perhaps?” His teasing tone doesn’t go unmissed, and I shake my head again at his crassness.
“I simply meant do you feel that you’re not getting adequate time to reflect on the day and unwind?”
“I never get that. Doing what I do for a living, there’s always somewhere to be, or something to be doing. I typically keep going until I pass out,” he answers.
“Pass out?” I question.
Tyke rolls his eyes, not missing what I was getting at. “From exhaustion.”
I frown. “That’s a shame. What good is it to be so successful if your life is no longer your own?”
“It is what it is, Frannie. Sacrificing your personal life is sort of expected in the music business.”
I knew musicians were always busy, but hearing it from him directly that he basically has no life other than his job makes me sad for him. “Why do you continue to do it if you’re not happy?”
“I love making music. It makes me happy. All the bullshit that goes along with it is what I hate. Once music is in your skin, it’s impossible to just scrub it away. It sticks with you, and like it or not, you’ll never be able to walk away, even if you want to. Just the thought of not being able to do this for a living makes me so fucking anxious that I can’t breathe.”
I make another note, beginning to understand where his addiction began. “So when the business side of the music came into play, adding pressure to your creative process, is that when you first began taking benzos?”
He fidgets in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with me getting down to the nitty-gritty so quickly. “I think so. It all began when I went to see my doctor and mentioned that I constantly felt anxious that something was going to happen with the band, that everything we’ve worked for would be yanked away from us.”
“And he wrote you a prescription for benzodiazepine to help calm your nervousness about the inability to control the outcome of your future?”
He nods. “Yeah. And then once I started taking them, I liked the way they made me feel. The way they helped me forget sometimes that the band falling apart is always a possibility.”
“So what led you to the point in your life where you determined that benzodiazepines alone was no longer enough of an escape?”
I ponder over the song he’s just given, trying to recall in my brain the lyrics, but nothing comes up. “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with that song. Can you tell me a little about what it’s about?”
Tyke smirks. “Not a metal fan then, huh?”
“Not really, no, but I know that’s what Black Falcon plays.” I blush again, knowing full well, after all my research that it’s the type of music he plays.
He picks at the thick leather cuff on his wrist. “It’s cool if you’re not a fan. Metal isn’t for everyone, I suppose, just please tell me you’re not one of those chicks who’s into the bubblegum sounding top forty hits. That would break my fucking heart.”
I laugh. “If you’re talking about all the music that sounds like it could be on the Disney channel then, no, but I won’t say I’m a pop hater. I like anything with a good beat, but I’m more of an alternative girl.”
That earns me a smile. “Alternative? Nice. I can work with that. I’ve been really diggin’ the Artic Monkeys lately.”
“I love them,” I say, excited that someone else appreciates the complex sound of that band. “‘Do I Wanna Know’ is one of my absolute favorite songs.”
That causes him to raise one eyebrow. “That’s a pretty deep song. Does it make you think of anyone when you listen to it?”
I instantly shake my head. “No. What makes you ask that?”
“That song is basically about a guy who is so lovesick he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I was curious if I need to be concerned that you’re already in love with someone else, and you turning me down a few minutes ago had more to it than just the off-limits factor. I like to know exactly what I’m up against.”
My stupid blush rushes back to my cheeks in full force as his eyes stay locked on mine, waiting for my answer. The heat of his stare is almost too much to take, and I’m tempted to drop my eyes away from his gaze, but I don’t. I want him to know that I’m in control of the situation going on between us.
After a long moment, I sigh. “There’s no one else, but—”
“That’s good to know,” he says, seemingly delighted by the news.
“I meant what I said before. Nothing can happen between us.”
He holds up a hand and tries to fight back a grin, like he knows no matter how much I resist, my giving into his advances is inevitable. “Strictly professional, I got it.”
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and say, “Good. Let’s get back to the song. I’m going to guess it’s about a man being trapped.”
Tyke nods. “Yeah. After being basically on lockdown in my room last night and ordered to be on time for breakfast, I feel a little closed up in this place.”
I make a note about checking into the daily routines of the clients a little more with Wayne. “What did you do when you went up to your room last night?”
“You want to imagine me in my room? Sleeping in the buff, perhaps?” His teasing tone doesn’t go unmissed, and I shake my head again at his crassness.
“I simply meant do you feel that you’re not getting adequate time to reflect on the day and unwind?”
“I never get that. Doing what I do for a living, there’s always somewhere to be, or something to be doing. I typically keep going until I pass out,” he answers.
“Pass out?” I question.
Tyke rolls his eyes, not missing what I was getting at. “From exhaustion.”
I frown. “That’s a shame. What good is it to be so successful if your life is no longer your own?”
“It is what it is, Frannie. Sacrificing your personal life is sort of expected in the music business.”
I knew musicians were always busy, but hearing it from him directly that he basically has no life other than his job makes me sad for him. “Why do you continue to do it if you’re not happy?”
“I love making music. It makes me happy. All the bullshit that goes along with it is what I hate. Once music is in your skin, it’s impossible to just scrub it away. It sticks with you, and like it or not, you’ll never be able to walk away, even if you want to. Just the thought of not being able to do this for a living makes me so fucking anxious that I can’t breathe.”
I make another note, beginning to understand where his addiction began. “So when the business side of the music came into play, adding pressure to your creative process, is that when you first began taking benzos?”
He fidgets in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with me getting down to the nitty-gritty so quickly. “I think so. It all began when I went to see my doctor and mentioned that I constantly felt anxious that something was going to happen with the band, that everything we’ve worked for would be yanked away from us.”
“And he wrote you a prescription for benzodiazepine to help calm your nervousness about the inability to control the outcome of your future?”
He nods. “Yeah. And then once I started taking them, I liked the way they made me feel. The way they helped me forget sometimes that the band falling apart is always a possibility.”
“So what led you to the point in your life where you determined that benzodiazepines alone was no longer enough of an escape?”
