July 12, 1999
“Samantha Marilyn?” It’s been a few weeks since I’ve actually spoken to her and well, I’m worried. It’s been almost 2 months since she lost her mom and, honestly, she hasn’t been herself. I landed early this morning and have been waiting in my hotel room two floors below hers for 3 hours, impatiently awaiting for 6:30 to roll around. “Samantha Marilyn Chas-ez!” I say, attempting to piss her off.
The hump near the top of her bed just whomped me with a pillow, indicating where she’s curled up. I sit in a chair across the room, “Go ‘way, Oshai,” she demands.
“Not until I know you’re ok,” I say, forcing her to look at me.
The blankets shoot off her and she bolts upright in bed, her red-brown hair a wavy mess with sad blue eyes. “I’m fine, see? Now go ‘way!”
She may be 16 ½ now, but she’s my baby sister and I have to keep tabs on the pain in my ass. She only texts and I’m concerned about her-she hasn’t been ‘right’ since May 18th. My parents had adopted her 2 weeks before the devastating blow, to protect her. “It’s not enough, I want to really know you’re ok!”
She reaches into the nightstand drawer beside her bed, pulling out a 5 subject notebook and quickly strides over to me, She’s ripshit, I know it all too well. She slams the thing down on the table beside me. “You really wanna know? Read this and get back to me then, Oshai!” she shouts, truly enraged. I bet you’re wondering how the nickname she gave me the night her adoption was finalized is pronounced, right? It’s ‘Oh-shay’ or ‘Oh-shy’.
She points to the door, signaling her desire for me to leave. I have to talk to 3 of the Boys anyway. ”I love you, baby sister,” I tell her. She gives me a hug before climbing into bed.
I leave her hotel room in Spain and go across the hall to Kevin’s, knocking on his door. “Hi, JC,” he greets, opening the door.
“Hey, man,” I reply, shaking his hand.
“Come in, have a seat,” he tells me, motioning to the table and 2 chairs by the big windows.
I sit in the chair on the left and he occupies the other one. “Any red flags when it comes to Jazz?”
“Nothing to cause me to worry. Just the usual wishes of Brandon dying and her mom to come back.”
“We’re not going to jail?” I ask, half joking.
“No, Brandon will die on his own between the drugs and alcohol. Vikki’s forever gone.”
“What do you mean?” Vikki didn’t tell me much about her ex-husband.
“Name the drug & alcohol, he’s on it or had it.”
“Oh. What about who she’s gotten close to?” I ask cautiously.
“She hardly talks to me, Brian, and Howie, if she even says a word to anyone.”
“So, she spends as much time as she can with…?”
“Nick mostly and I don’t think it’s best.”
“What about the other guys in the band?” I inquire, curious on how she’s been handling this tour in the past 6 weeks.
“She talks to AJ sometimes and Aaron every so often,” he informs me.
“I agree about the Nick thing, but how is she when it comes to sleep?”
“She might get 2-3 hours of sleep after making Nick or AJ rehearse on their own for hours on end, perfecting the routines and she’s worse than ‘Tima from what they tell me. Other than that, she usually falls asleep curled up with Nick or AJ.”
“Do you know if anything is happening between her and Nick or AJ?”
“AJ just lets her fall asleep on him, I’m not entirely sure about her & Nick, to be honest.”
Which means they could be doing anything and I refuse to be the bearer of bad news, I won’t get involved. Caylei is with Nick and if he’s sleeping with my sister, I’m going to pretend like I never knew or had an inkling about it. This isn’t really my business, but in a way it is. “Alright. Thanks, Kevin. Feel free to call or text me if you need to.”
“I will. See you around.”
I leave his room and head for AJ’s, rolling her notebook in my hands as I fill with that nasty nervousness after rapping at his door. “Yes, mom, I have been. She just won’t sleep,” he says as he answers the door, talking on his cell and motioning to the table and chair set in his room. “I know, mom. No, she is much worse than Fatima ever could be. She’s more attached to Nick. She just hasn’t been able to sleep alone. Not since it happened. I guess so. Sure. I will. Love you too, mom. I will.” He looks at me, closes the door and I drop her notebook on the table next to me. He sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head drops in his hands before coming back up and allowing his brown eyes meet mine. “It’s about her, huh?” he questions, nodding in the general direction of Jazzy’s room across the hall.
“Yes, how has she been handling this tour, especially after it happened?”
“She hardly sleeps, barely eats, and is always rehearsing with Fatima, Nick, me or alone. She doesn’t usually talk to anyone, but when she does, it’s either me, Nick, Aaron, Justin or this ‘James’ kid. The last two are either in code or in Irish,” he tells me, sliding his hand down his face and flopping back on the bed.
“I was wondering why those 2 wouldn’t speak in English for a couple hours a day,” I respond. “What about when Johnny or Fatima talk to her?”
“She answers, but she’s usually terse about it.”
“Does she talk to anyone else?”
“No, only the five of us and even then, it’s sporadic,” he confirms, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“What about when it comes to sleep?”
“She either exhausts herself to the point where she can fall asleep leaning on a wall or she has to cuddle Nick or myself. She refuses to sleep alone. Last night I did an experiment-I told her Nick wanted her to wear one of his jerseys he’d worn to bed a couple nights before, making her sleep alone once she passed out on him.”
“How’d that go?”
“Was Nick still there when you stopped in her room?”
“No. What about other things?”
“We got her to stop cutting and I know I’m not doing anything beyond a few hugs and cuddling with her. If either of us are, it’s Nick,” he informs me. He seems a little too calm.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask, playing coy.
“Sexual shit,” he tersely explains.
“What?!” I scream.
He bolts upright, pulling his shades lower on his nose and his brown orbs lock with my blue ones. “Dude, don’t shoot the fucking messenger, shoot them,” he reminds me, pointing toward their rooms.
“I want more information before I shoot anyone,” I tell him.
“Well, other than that, how’s things on your end?”
“Good.” I get up and head for the door. “I have one more person to talk to.”
“Nick. I need a nap before facing the main slave driver,” he jokes.
“Yeap,” I confirm, looking at her notebook again and realize she has written most of her memories and secrets in it. I leave his room and head down to Nick’s, knocking loud enough to wake this fucker out of a dead sleep.
Nick answers the door in a green pair of shorts and some major bed head. “What’s up, JC?” he questions, yawning after.
As laid back he is about it makes my blood boil because I’m so close to the two girls he’s just so intent on emotionally wrecking, but I hide it. “Not too much. Can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry.” He stands aside to let me in and I sit in one of his chairs, placing the notebook on the table in front of me. He takes the seat that has his back to the door. ”What brings you to us?”
“My sister not talking to me.”
“She texts you, right?”
“I mean she refuses to pick up the phone, call me and talk.”
“She gets shitty, if any sleep. Minimal sleep and rehearses like crazy, most of the time dragging me and AJ into it.”
“She eats, right?” I’m one question away from truly getting his attention.
“Sometimes.”
“Are you sleeping with her, essentially stepping out on Caylei?”
“What? No, not at all,” he denies, sweating bullets and confirming my suspicion by his nervousness.
“Ok,” I shrug it off. “She was cutting?”
“Yeah, she was, but we got her to stop. She had been doing it since the weekend after you went back on the road. She hasn’t done it where we can see it in about a week.”
“Alright. Thanks.” I start to leave to turn back and grab the notebook, my eyes meeting his. “Oh, and by the way, I will find out the truth because I know otherwise.” Just to make sure you have the facts straight, that was a promise. I make sure the words are laced with the equivalent of a Black Mamba snake’s venom.
“I told you the truth.”
I grab the notebook, tucking it under my arm and head for my room.
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