In the Rough

PROLOGUE

"I'd like to dedicate this next, and last, song to my beloved bed
partner, and much more, Jake. Love you puppy." I said into the mike, a
vintage mike, just like Elvis used to use. I broke into song, a
haunting ballad called "Love Long" that I had recently written. The
couples in the audience began to dance with one another, then the
singles began to ask each other to dance. Jake was waiting for me
backstage. He wasn't musically talented, so he was my groupie.

"Di, that song gives me chills. Swear to god, its pure magic." My
bassist and best friend Marty said to me as we walked off stage. She
had been there right from the start with me when I started up the band
13 years ago, when I had been 12. she had been 16, which was pivotal
because she could drive the rest of us to practices and gigs when our
parents wouldn't.

"Thanks. I'm pretty fond of it myself"

The rest of the band consisted of my cousin, Tony, who played guitar,
my brother Granite, who also played guitar, and sang a bit with me,
and, of course, Marty's husband of ten years, on the drums, none other
than Sonny DiGregorio. We all joined in a group hug backstage, then the
rest of them all went out to sign autographs for our adoring public. We
were known throughout the whole state of Maine, and then even a little
bit into New Hampshire.

"Jake!" I called. "Puppy, where are you? Come give your kitten a kiss."
He wasn't backstage, so I headed down the concrete steps to the back
entrance. I hate the back stairs, they're so cracked that I almost
break my ankle every time, getting my heel stuck in them. The back
door, as well, was no picnic. It stuck in the summer, so I had to put
all of my weight on it to get it to open.

Outside, the forest surrounded the small cement stoop and path that led
to the front of the building.

"Shhh&;#8230;I just heard the door open!" I heard a woman say.

"Don't worry about it. Now come on, we're not done yet" I recognized
that voice from somewhere. I couldn't quite place it, but it was very
familiar. Possibly, it was the guy who moved the drums or who parked my
car.

I ended up leaving without Jake that night. I figured he could bum a
ride home from somebody, or walk. That's his problem, not mine.

I did call him when I got home. I laid on my bed, on my stomach, and
picked up to phone, dialing the numbers that I had written into a song.
Unfortunately, it was a little bit too much like Tomy Tutone's, and it
never got past a rehearsal. Still, they did have a nice ring about
them. It rang, once, twice, then three times, and he picked up halfway
through the fourth.

"'Lo?" he muttered, whispering.

"Hey babes. Missed ya after the show. Your're still coming over for
some strummin' and drummin;', I hope, I hope."

"Acctually, I really can't. I'm working, a stakeout. Waiting for
somebody to show up."

"Is that why you're whispering?"

"Yeah. Just saw headlights. Love you"

"Love you too, babes."

"Bye, Di&;#8230;"

"Jake! Hurry up! I can't wait any longer!" I heard a female voice say.
I narrowed my eyes at the phone.

"Um, Jake?"

"I have to go Di." And he hung up. I tossed the phone against the wall,
hitting the mirror with a shatter of glass and plastic phone parts. I
knew I got seven years from the mirror, but how long from the fucking
phone?

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

"You know what? You know what? I don't give a fuck. Not anymore. You
threw that all away." I yelled at him, sobbing in between words. I had
my gun pointed at him, standing in the doorway to my bedroom. He was
looking at me, like a deer caught in the headlights, not entirely sure
what was going on.

"Darlin', what are doing?"

"killing you for what you did to me." And I pulled the trigger. The gun
jerked back, towards me as he jerked away from me and fell into the
hallway. Gun still in hand, I crawled over to him, to see him take his
last breaths.

He lay on my old runner, the one that I had inherited from my
grandmother. His hand clutched at his inner thigh, where I had hit him,
and he looked at me with pleading eyes. Blood poured from the wound,
and it looked real bad for him. Real bad. Perfect.

"Diamond&;#8230;Di, Darlin', I didn't&;#8230;we
never&;#8230;tonight, I came, I wanted to propose. I
want&;#8230;to marry you. She&;#8230;she just
wanted&;#8230;hurt you. Never happened&;#8230;love
you&;#8230;" I looked at him, in his eyes. My god, he was crying. He
was dying. And he wasn't lying.

"God&;#8230;dear god, HANG ON Jake. HANG ON!" I raced for the phone,
but he called to me before I got there.

"Di&;#8230;" I raced back towards him.

"I'm here, I'm here."

"Don't bother&;#8230;phone. I'm gone. Love&;#8230;" he closed his
eyes and squeezed out a few last tears. I felt for his pulse. There was
none. CPR did nothing. I fell asleep right there, lying my head on his
cooling chest, and I didn't awake until morning, he was cool, and the
phone rang.

"Hey Di. Jake still there?"

"Um&;#8230;"

"Indisposed, huh? That's ok. Just tell him that I called."

"Uh&;#8230;"

"Di, is there something wrong?"

"Kinda, a little bit&;#8230;yeah. Very wrong."

"Oh god, what is it? He wrap a car around a tree again? Arrested?
What?"

"No. Worse."

"Good god, you're pregnant!"

"No&;#8230;um&;#8230;I don't really know how to say this,
but&;#8230;um&;#8230;I shot him"

"But he's fine, right? Just a flesh wound, right? Maybe he's passed
out, maybe he has stitches, but he's fine, right? Right Di, he's
fine?"

"You can't tell anybody. You have to come over. I need your help.
Bring&;#8230;um, bring the limo, yeah, that'll work. Bring that, and
then&;#8230;we'll&;#8230;I'll think of something. Don't say
anything"

"Fuck. I'll be there. Ten minutes. We'll go to the Raven's Nest."

I didn't know what to do with him. So, I wrapped him up in a couple of
my old costumes from various performances.