The Second Tour of 44West

ch. 3 - breaker

Rion

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Slipping my sunglasses on and pulling my Dodgers ball cap low over my eyes, I called my driver who works for me here in L.A. to come pick me up. After sending him my location, I waited on a secluded corner curb and scrolled through my social media.

    Dear God.

    Story after story shows me and some friends acting like absolute fools in LimeLemon, one of our favorite, exclusive clubs that a ton of fellow celebrities visit regularly. I cringed as I watched myself down shot after shot, then grimaced even more as the next video showed me dancing very provocatively with a brunette woman who looked a lot like the person I had just practically run away from.

    "No-name is that you?" I mumbled, giggling to myself as I decided that it was actually okay if I never found out who no-name was.

    I scrolled through a few more stories as the videos were helping me to regain my memories. We were out for Breaker's, my drummer's, thirtieth birthday. I smiled as I saw him also tossing shots back and, of course, banging on the tables along to the beat of each song that came blasting through the club speakers.

He was a phenomenal drummer, and one of the fan's favorite band-mates. I met him around ten years ago when I first moved to L.A. to pursue a singing career. We were both working as waiters at a small diner in the city, just trying to make ends meet and chase a dream that seemed bleaker and bleaker with each failed attempt and missed opportunity. I was particularly upset one day when I got feedback from a large record label saying my EP wasn't raw enough and I needed to start from scratch. I could barely focus on work. I kept messing orders up and forgetting to get things that tables asked for. I was holding it together, but when I dropped a beer bottle that was already five minutes late getting to the correct table, and it shattered around my feet. I just about lost it.

~ Ten Years Ago ~

"Rough day?" I heard come from beside me. I craned my neck from my seated position outside of the diner to look up, trying to find the source of the voice.

"What?"

"Everything that was going on in there." He said, gesturing to the diner with a nudge of his shoulder as he cupped his hand around a cigarette to light it. He was a grizzled guy with a medium build, about six feet tall, and a pretty impressive mustache if I do say so myself.

"Oh, yeah I guess you could say that."

"Care to share?"

I let out a scoff as I returned my gaze to the dirty street in front of me. "Not really."

"How long have you been in L.A.?" He asked, and I looked at him with a tilted head and furrowed eyebrows, trying to figure out one: if he actually cared, and two: why he was talking to me. "Oh, get over it. You don't have to answer if you don't want to but since we're both out here, I figured I'd make small talk."

    Sighing before deciding on answering or not, I picked up a stray pebble before throwing it across the back lot and spoke up. "Not long. Just moved here about four months ago, actually."

    "Same actually. Well, six months for me." He said as he sat down on the curb next to me. "What's your name?"

    "Rion Elliot. Yours?"

    "Daniel Burley, but everyone calls me Breaker."

Chuckling at the nickname, I asked "Why 'Breaker'?"

    "Because I like to break shit." He said with a smile that I couldn't help but return.

    "Fair enough."