Timeframe : After Season two finale. Nothing in Season three has occured.
Disclaimer : Don't do drugs. Ever. You will die.
From the outside G major looked just the same as it did four months previous, other than the vibrant amber leaves that now littered the streets. Pulling into the back alley, Tom parked next to the dumpster before turning the Black SUV off, popping out and opening the back door.
"We are here Maya!" Tom called out to the girl in his best 'child friendly' tone. The little girl had just fallen asleep but he needed to get her back to her dad before he really could consider a vasectomy. It had been a hellish four months with a three year old in isolation. She was cute but demanding. Her father's daughter, Tom figured.
He unbuckled her as she woke slowly and pulled her into his arms, grabbing her bag on his other shoulder. He shut the door behind him and hit the lock on the key fob. He entered G major, taking in the unusual quietness. He then recalled that it was an Instant star night and the artists were probably all helping out at the theatre. He put Maya down and guided her up the stairs to D's office, knocking gently when he got there.
"Come in." Darius demanded. Toms jaw clenched as he entered. He hated being D's puppet. Immediately, Darius broke into a smile at the sight of Maya, stepping out from behind his desk and scooping her up as she toddled over to him. "How's my girl? Did Tom treat you right?" Tom rolled his eyes.
"Ya, he was super!" Maya exclaimed.
"Good, cause I would have had to punish his ass," Darius threatened, his threat disguised in his smile. "Maya go on and find Auntie Portia while I speak with Uncle Tom," The girl ran out the door. "Take a seat Quincy."
Tom didn't move as Darius sat back in his own chair. Darius stared at him pointedly before Tommy gave in and sat down. "Thanks for taking care of that for me, I didn't think it would take so long to win custody with her mom being on the juice." Tom nodded, he understood but he still couldn't believe he was the only one capable of handling D's daughter. Why couldn't he have just sent down a nanny? "I've got some artists lined up for you. You'll be handling this year's instant star once voted, as well as two new artists signed this month." D handed Tommy a binder, full of artist information. Tommy stared at the binder before catching something.
"What about Jude? Jude's always been my artist? Who has her?" Tommy was panicking; did he lose Jude in exchange for helping out Darius?
Darius visibly got uncomfortable, shifting before folding his arms and resting them under his chin. "Jude has a little problem, " his one finger rubbing under his nose. Tom's eyes brows scrunched in confusion before it clicked in.
"How long?" Tom demanded. His stomach felt suddenly queasy; fear and shock settled through him.
Darius shook his head. "Months. Sent her to rehab for thirty days. She got out last week. Haven't seen her since. " Darius needed to be direct with Tom, he owed him that much. He knew there was something between them which was why he sent Tom to Montana. Darius hoped a little separation would smoother the fire. Instead all it did was ignite a bad cascade of events.
Tom heart squeezed painfully. How did this happen? Why…What… Confusion pressed at his brain and he pressed his palms into his eyes. His thoughts came out in a rush, "How come no one told me? I've been following her in the news. It had been quiet but still nothing mentioned rehab."
"T- I've always said 'if you take care of D, he'll take care of you.' We'll I'm taking care of her. Sent her to Calm Oaks, kept it out of the press, kept those photos out of the press," Darius sounded offended, no one had the audacity to accuse him of not taking care of his artists, "But don't know how many more chances she's going to get from me," He held a zero tolerance with any hard drug.
Tommy's mind reeled- rehab, press, photos-wait photos, "What photos?"
"Long story short, Jude took off to Barrie after you left, missed her CD release, drank too much, ended up in someone's bed, he took pictures and blackmailed her. But of course Big D took care of all of that!" Darius voice boomed out the last sentence, so very pompous of him self, Tommy thought.
"Where is she now?" Tommy had to find her, stop her, help her. It was his fault for taking off on her like that, and never replying to her calls; guilt settled in quickly.
"Best talk to Sadie, she may know." Tommy hoped out of his seat and strode to the door, "T- wait, remember that you still have priorities here." Tommy continued out the door and down the stairs- If it weren't for Darius this wouldn't be happening.
Baby got a little problem with the drugs man
And I tried to stop her, well
She loves them
But I can't do nothing else, last one man
Her nose keeps on bleeding but it's, but it's
but it's nothing and I
And I won't forget when, when she said
The sun was setting when Tom pulled in front of the warehouse. As he got out of the car he could here sirens in the distance reminding him he was on the wrong side of town.
According to Sadie, Jude could be found here, he was pretty sure that what she said anyway with all the tears and stuff. Tommy climbed the stairs, his nerves restless in his stomach. Climbing the last flight of stairs he could smell it, the sweet smell of a marijuana, fuming the hall way and stair well. It had been a while since he himself had gotten high but no one forgets the smell of pot.
Reaching the rehearsal space, Tom took a deep breath, afraid of what he might see before knocking loudly on the door. Acoustic music floated through the door but he could make out a rough version of Jude's voice, "Come on in".
Tom pushed open the door, immediately having to take a deep breath before entering. The whole space seemed to have turned into a hot box, the haze burnt his eyes but he stepped in.
He coughed loudly and everyone looked at him. Gaining his breath he looked up at the group, all laid out on the couches, oblivious to the lack of pure oxygen. One was softly strumming a guitar, another busy with their own paranoia, scratching at his arm. Another was rubbing a girl's back as her hooded eyes drooped. He spotted Jude, stomach on the floor, a notebook in front of her. She watched him, her eyes hazy, surprise flashed on her face before quickly disappearing into calm carefree façade. Her head dipped acknowledging him. He stepped farther in, closing the door behind him. Suddenly he wasn't so sure this was a good idea. Where do you start? What do you say? How?
The boy with the guitar looked up at him, still strumming. Tom looked at him a bit closer, not recognizing him but recognizing the trademarks. His arms and face scabbed, his teeth not so square, blood staining the rims of his nose. The kid laid back, his head bobbing with his foot, his mouth forming soft words, his voice almost nice, " If you can't beat him…" before picking up the strumming.
And with that he took a seat on the big armed chair closest to Jude. He cautiously looked at the dark smudges on one chair arm. With some courage inside of him he spoke,
"How's it going Jude?" As he looked at her he took in her hair, brown with grease, her eyes bruised from lack of sleep and cheeks hollow, pulled taught.
He head bobbed, "Not bad," Clearly the opposite of how she looked, "Want a drink?"
She was up before he could answer, her movements precise, finding a cup and pouring Coca Cola and a generous amount of Malibu. She duplicated it in another cup and brought them over to him, "To reunions". She tilted her cup to his, bumping them. She drank hers down and he peered into the cup, expecting mould. She was oblivious and returned to the floor, still watching him. "So you back?"
To Tom, she physically looked like a cocaine addict, but she seemed to be secure and not the restless type he had expected. Maybe rehab had worked for the coke, though she clearly still sought out illegal substances.
"Ya got back today. It's quiet at the studio without you." He kept eye contact with her but she broke it and rolled over pulling open the drawer of the coffee table pulling a plastic baggy out, large cannabis flowers filled the bag. The others immediately pulled out papers, discussed the hooka pipe before Jude stopped them, "Let's give Tommy the choice." She passed him the bag and he stared at it, rolling the bag between his fingers. His hesitance was evident in the room and the kid with the guitar strummed his original song, "If you can't beat em, join em", his voice velvety smooth.
Tom watched the guy and before he could think put out his hand, "Zig zags, please." The guy past them over and Tommy scooted closer to the table, taking out to thin papers, and quickly licked one edge binding it to the other. Opening the baggy, Tom broke off loose bits and placed them delicately on the paper.
His hands didn't shake like he thought they should have but instead were still, like he did this regularly.
Licking the paper again, he rolled it tight, twisting the end, licking it again and grabbing the lighter of the table and lighting the end. The eyes around him were watching with interest.
Guitar guy grinned , "Almost as good as Jude's".
Tom shook his head, "It's been a while." Without missing a beat, Tom brought the joint to his lips inhaling, letting the pot hang in his mouth before exhaling.
The weed was of quality, its taste sweet and hot, no skunk weed that was for sure. He passed it to Jude, who took her own drag, blowing out rings. "Must have costed you a mint," Tom said, trying to make conversation. Jude didn't reply, the joint back on her lips.
A big part of touring was the nights following the shows, where all the guys and the groupies would hang around back stage. The booze would be flowing , smoke hanging around their heads and all the hook ups. Boundaries were constantly broken, feelings hurt but by morning not one could remember who touched whom.
As Tom breathed deeply, he could feel a warm sense of calmness over coming him, all his past worries evaporating, his focus focusing to the room. The sounds of the girl clinking a dollar on the table, the guitar stopping its music, a cough here and there.
Lick a ring around this L
So that it burns all night
And I pass round that philly so, so
So we can all get high
You see I never knew
I never had a clue that
That you were capable of love
That you were capable of love
So lick a ring around your L,
So that it burns all night
And I pass round that philly so, so
So we can all get high
He watched as Jude got up, making her way to the bed, she laid back staring up at the ceiling; her mouth forming words unintelligible from across the room.
Without realizing it he had made his way to her, he watched her mouth rounding, but with no noise. He got closer and her hand came out pulling his shirt to wards her. He landed beside her, and looked at what she was watching. On the ceiling was a poster of Jesus' hand (he assumed), and in scripture "See! I will not forget you, I have carved you on the palm of my hand. (Isaiah 49:15)." He murmured the words, recognizing them on Jude's lips.
She searched out his hand, her tiny fingers wrapped gently around his wrist, taking them to her face. Jude studied before placing it back down. "You forgot me," was all she said.
He watched her lips in sick fascination, "I have carved you on my heart," he mumbled. She looked at him, he thought for the first time since he had been there. Her hand went out to his stomach as she rolled into him, on to her side. He looked at her, her eyes glazed with something, marijuana, lust…
Her eyes looked up at the others in the room, "Get out of here guys." Her voice was no more than a whisper but they heard her, all getting up and shuffling out of the loft. She looked down at him, her fingers on his stomach taping ever so gently. She watched his lips, his oh so pouty lips. She ran her fingers over his lips. Her hand cupping his jaw, her thumb rubbing his cheek.
Ever so softly, her face descended open his, her lips against his. Tom was paralyzed with fear, want , need, obsession. Being high heightened his senses and Tom couldn't move.
His mouth opened, accepting what she was offering. His own hands were at her hips, gripping her tightly as her lips rubbed against his, gently but with some type of control and precision. Her tongue was slick and warm, and made him groan. Blood flowed to his groin and he sifted uncomfortably.
Her hand made its way back to his stomach and lower; her fingers working the buckle, the button, the zipper. Her hands were confident; his fumbled because he wasn't quite sure what was happening.
She was so delicate and soft , her palms warm against him. He grew inside of her hand and somewhere inside he knew this was not a good idea. Paralyzed from reality, he laid there and let it all happen. Before he knew it she was on him, her body light, one hand by his head, the other between them.
The poster above them kept catching his eye, he forgot her, he forgot her. But he never had, never would.
All he could feel was their sex, warm and soft, nothing he had expected from his own visions of her. He wouldn't deny he dreamed of them, in their own home, where it was magic. And somehow the real thing was even better, only because it was real. But no matter how real, he wished it were different .
She collapsed beside him, her face sweaty. He couldn't remember how that had just ended. He blinked, looking at her, but her eyes were closed and she looked so peaceful. His focus was on her face, it was different, aged, scarred, sad, different. So quietly she whispered, "I loved you."
He couldn't take his eyes off of her and he knew it was the pot. His mind was glued to her, thoughts of her flipped through his brain before he had a chance to understand and process them. He didn't know how long he watched her as he fell into a deep sleep.
If baby keep on thinking, well
She gonna hurt herself
Baby keeps on drinking cause
She lost all her wealth
Yeah, she love that liquor
She wanna have my kids
But this ain't my problem but
Big Jesus says it is
And I won't forget when, when she said
He heard banging and he wanted it to stop. It was persistent, the sound of draws flying open and books and papers dropping on the ground. Tommy laid there considering what the heck had happened. His mouth was thick with a layer of cotton on his tongue, his breath smelt like he was dying and he felt like he had gotten no sleep. Slowly he sat up and watched as Jude was scurrying around, digging, sorting, flipping things over.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
She mumbled something before scurrying back across the loft to the couches where she proceeded to fling off the cushions, her fists digging in the corners. Her actions were sporadic, sweat starting to bead on her forehead, her hands shaking badly and he realized that she was desperately looking for something to take the edge off. The girl was withdrawing.
Tom got off the bed and approached her cautiously, "Jude lets just take a second to relax." She looked at him like she didn't recognize him before she ran back to the bed and started throwing the sheets off the bed.
He followed her, "How bout I take you back to Calm oaks? Get some more help?" His questions went ignored. He came right up behind her, and he froze, almost too scared to touch her. "Jude. Stop please." His palm stopped on her shoulder and she froze but didn't turn around.
"Help me and I will. I promise." Her voice was different, rough and coarse, too many joints he assumed. Giving in, Tommy started searching.
He sorted through cups and dishes, stacks of papers, garbage while simultaneously cleaning up. He never thought there would be the day he would spend it searching for cocaine for anyone let alone Jude Harrison. Looking around the loft, he realized it was like looking for the proverbial needle in a hay stack. He was never going to find it. And who knew if she even had some left over.
All of a sudden Jude let out a screech and he looked up. She was holding out a tiny bag, white power sitting in one of its corners. She ran to the table pulling open the draw, grabbing the small mirror and a bill. Jude rolled Borden's face up and grinned up at Tommy, it was the first smile he had seen on her face yet. "I can always count on him. But we have to be careful, he is my last man." Tom suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Quickly and precisely she lined the coke up and with her nose to the rolled bill she dragged it down line, drawing in all the way. Instantly her hands stilled before they came to her nose, rubbing it as she sniffed loudly. Her hands dropped to her sides and her head rolled back.
Tom watched carefully unsure of what to do but she picked her head back up and started clearing her stuff away. Suddenly, drops of red were lining the table as she bent over it and he realized it was coming from her nose.
"Jude," She looked up at him but felt a drip on her arm and she too saw the blood. Quickly she wiped at her face, smearing it along. She continued cleaning, blood randomly dripping.
Tom made his way to the bathroom and looked at him self in the mirror. He looked no better. He dumped his face under the tap and scrubbed it hard. He needed to figure out how to get her out of this mess. First thing, he decided, was washing her face. Finding a semi clean cloth, he soaked it warm water and took it out to her.
She was on the couch staring at a note book; he recognized it as her song journal. As he approached she dumped it on the ground. "Let's clean you up a bit." He washed her face for her, gently starting at the top and worked his way to the now dried blood smears. "So how bout we head out then."
"Oh, ah I think I'll just stay here I think." Jude sounded so sincere with her answer, as if he had asked her as if it was an option.
"Jude, you promised," Suddenly Tommy felt like he was back with Maya, teaching a young child responsibility with cleaning up her toys.
"Yes well…" Jude was back reading her book, ignoring him. Tom crouched down onto his knees until he was level with her.
"Jude, I Love you and we are getting you help." He said it matter of factly, hoping she would comprehend.
"Tommy, I love you but I love me more." She replied in the same tone as he had spoken yet still staring at the page of material. Hit with hurt, Tommy stood up and backed up. He had one final thing to say.
"I've booked us studio time. Next Tuesday, eight am. I'll wait for you." With that he walked out the door.
I'm so glad you informed me
Her strong point was never loyalty
B!tch never done shit for me
I had to leave her, and
The next day Tom was at the studio, listening to his new artist's tracks, getting a feel for them. They were descent but no Jude. He heard two knocks and looked at the door, waving Kwest in.
Tom stood up to greet him, their fists pumping, automatic bro shake.
Kwest started, "Glad to see you back man, how's Maya doing?"
"She's good, too young to know no different. How's the family holding up with Jude?"
"I think we are all over it. Sadie tries not to think about it because its easier, Stuart has done all he could and I … I just don't know what to do. Have you seen her yet?"
Tom nodded looking down, before glancing back up, "Ya yesterday, I wish I had known what I was getting myself into," Tom rubbed his jaw, "She managed to pull me into that world, and I allowed her. And for a moment I thought I had her, thought she would have followed me anywhere and then.. then she was gone, back to her own world. Where she doesn't want me. I shouldn't have gone to Montana, should have just stayed here. " Tom's fist hit the soundboard. Kwest recognized Tom's guilt; he had seen it with Sadie and Stuart. It was always disappointing when you thought you could help someone and they refused it. And Kwest knew Tom and he was sure he took it personally; Tom was different with Jude, protective, supportive and always way too willing with her.
"You can't blame yourself man. She did this to herself, she made her own decisions. We all have given her the opportunity to get herself together." Kwest shook his head in sadness, "Rehab did nothing. She was managing to get coke some how. She wrote like crazy though, so she is in there somewhere. But D won't let her back till she's sober," Kwest explained.
"Well, I told her we had studio time on Tuesday. If she shows up it could be a start." At that Kwest looked more hopeful, but it was obvious that they had basically given up. He knew though that no one would actually give up, they would just get used to her being like that.
Kwest headed to his own studio, leaving Tommy to get back to his new artists.
XXX
Tommy sat at the sound board, and glanced at the clock, it was exactly eight am. He had the studio all day. And he would wait all day. She would come, he could feel it.
As the minutes ticked by, Tommy cleaned the studio, he wiped down the sound bored, vacuumed the floor, the couch, straightened out the cushions. He made himself lunch. He wandered up to his office and pulled out Jude's Archive. He brought Jude's catalogue back down to the studio and flipped through it, reminiscing through the songs that had made them great partners. He listened to each song, one by one, enjoying them and remembering every ounce of sweat they put into them.
The last song she had written was one he didn't recognize. Kwest was listed as producer. He pulled out the copy and put it on the computer. A capella she sang, "Hey you're my weakness, Still my lover in my mind, And you still control me, Summer I put you so high, Hey did you forget you could never get enough, Well I'll always love you, No matter how far you run."
He listened carefully a few more times, writing notes down as ideas formed in his head. Pulling out sheet music, his hands ran across the paper, writing new piano chords that had been inspired by the song. He had run through the piece for the umpteenth time before glancing up at the clock, realizing it was now 8pm.
Giving up he gathered up all of his stuff, making his way to his office. He put back the archive and laptop. As he placed it on his office, a white envelope caught his eye. He immediately knew it was Jude's chicken scratch. Pulling open the envelope he pulled out the piece of paper the he knew she ripped out of her journal. On it were two words he didn't want to ever hear.
I'm Sorry.
Well now she's just another story
When we pass around that 40
And she says she's so sorry well I
I don't believe her that's why
*Capable by KO
** Never Again by The Midway State