Page 23 of More Than Scars

“Masterson can make or break you in this industry. They’re not known for being anything but fair. They’ve given you four a chance to start at the top. No one, and I do mean no one, gets that opportunity, so choose your battles wisely.” Huh, guess I had the right words without slapping anyone after all.

Bummer…

“I’m stoked.” Tibby’s smile hadn’t left his face. “Mickey is my idol, and to hone my talent under his training is the bomb.”

Bowie leaned forward and stared Claude in the eye. My heart raced, fearing what he was about to say. “In case you didn’t read the fine print, there is an out clause in your contract. If you don’t make them happy, they will cut you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So, are you in or are you out, Claude?”

I swear, the room was dead silent, and the intense staredown taking place left those around them holding their breaths, myself included.

Claude leaned forward, meeting Bowie’s pose. “I’m in.”

It was like the waitstaff felt the tension and paused at the door until it dissipated. As soon as Claude spoke, the door opened and in they came with our meals. I was ridiculously proud of Bowie for the way he handled that. Watching him the other night through the window as he worked fireside, diligently writing away in his notebook, spoke to me. To my heart, in particular.

Food was gone and the evening was nearing an end, and it was time to spin the conversation back around to business. “Let’s hit the practice studio on Monday, meet us there at nine, Claude, and then we can get your security clearance handled.”

“Don’t forget to bring your list of five songs for us to start off playing together and five original songs you’ve written as well,” Bowie reminded him.

“This is perfect timing. I just got laid off from the docks. Lack of shipping containers to unload means a lack of jobs for the rest of us. Let’s start a group text chat, and you guys put the songs you thought of for us to kick it off with in there, and I’ll add mine if they’re different. Hopefully they’re ones we’ve all played already.” The four of them passed their phones around while I signed the bill.

When we got home, the three of us went our separate ways without a word. It had been a long day, it would’ve been even longer had the auditions gone as the others had. I sent Diamond and Easton an email, updating them on how the night went. Based upon Easton’s reply tokeep him appraised of the Claude situation, I knew Diamond had filled him in on what had transpired during his audition. But Bowie tackled that head-on, and I couldn’t be prouder of him for it.

Then why don’t you tell him that?

Guess I had my opening. Now, to find him.

Outside by the fire, acoustic in hand, of course. He’d strike a few notes, jot them down, and then do it again. I could literally stand here all night and watch him, but it was time to break the seal and see if I had a chance. Better to find out now before my heart gets involved.

“Hey, that sounded pretty good. Mind if I join you?”

He grinned. “It was only a couple of notes, can’t classify that as good.” Bowie gestured to the seat beside him. “It’s your house, you don’t need to ask.”

“Yes, I do. This has become your private wonderland, and I don’t want to intrude.”

“Stalker much?” No malice in his words, only a smile as he set his guitar aside.

“Maybe a little.” My response was met with uneasy silence. “The way you handled Claude at dinner was perfect. I think challenging him to be his best and not make waves is the way to go.”

“Yeah, I, um, saw too much of my old self in him. The me before the accident.” Bowie nervously wiped his hands on his jeans. Was he about to openup to me? “Nothing like getting bitch slapped by life and being put in your place.”

“It has a way of doing that for sure. Can’t say I didn’t have some karmic blows over the years. Lessons learned are the pathway to growth.” Great, now I sound like my father. He’ll get a kick out of that when I tell him.

“Truth.” Bowie stared off, I’m sure lost in memories. “It was a guy having a heart attack. I was cruising along on my motorcycle when he hit me. Didn’t see him coming. I flew off the bike and through a storefront plate glass window. Only injuries I got were from the glass.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, before I was even out of the hospital, my band replaced me. One guy came to see me and tell me, barely stayed at the hospital long enough to get the words out before he bailed.”

“They didn’t deserve you.” Whether those were the right words to say or not, they were out.

“Now I’m a hideous mess of scars who hides from the world behind his hair and clothes.”

“You are not a mess.”

He shrugged. “You saw the scars. They’re fucking ugly.”

“Bowie, the scars don’t define you. Sure, they’re a part of you, but it’s the choices in life you make that will define you. I meant it when I said you’re beautiful because to me, you are.” He turned away, but that wasn’t how I wanted this to go. I knelt in front of him and gently tucked the hair that hid his scars back behind his ear and cupped that side of his face. At first he flinched, then he relented and leaned into my touch. “Bowie, I don’t know what’s going on or if you’re even interested in me. But you’re all I think about.”

“Why me? I’m a fucking mess?”