In The Blood

Popping Toad Stands and Other Gibberish

(Elliott)

Ugh, my head. My head, my head, my head. I placed one hand on top of it, trying to hold it still. My hand told me my head was still, but my brain was telling me a different story. If my head wasn't moving, then either my eyes were or the room was. Logically, since I was not in a moving vehicle, it had to be me. I slid a finger over an eyelid to hold my eyeball still. OK, now I had shaky monocular vision. Still bouncing and spinning, I put another finger over my right eye. I must be a freaking bunny because I still felt like I was moving. A ship. It felt like I was on a moving ship. I was seasick on land.

"Dude," my friend Marcus intoned from two steps away. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to see straight," I muttered from under two closed eyelids.

"How can you see anything at all? Your eyes are being held shut," he reasoned, reaching for and tugging at an arm. It fell to the side surprisingly easily. Oh goody, we're spinning again.

My ear got kissed from behind me and my wife's voice came floating into it. "Wanna go home and make boom-boom?"

Home, yes. Boom-boom, I wasn't so sure about. I wanted to go home and sleep the Jack and coke off, let the rum work its way down, and fizzle out on the whiskey. I don't get drunk a lot. I know my limits. I usually have one or two drinks, maximum, maybe once a week, if that. It takes a lot to get me drunk. But I was totally one hundred percent inebriated here. Think that was obvious when I slunk onstage and started singing along with the entertainment. I was probably pretty entertaining to watch myself. Drunk dude on stage hamming it up! At least I actually can sing; it would have been worse and more embarrassing if I couldn't carry a tune. The band seemed to like me and security didn't bother throwing my drunk butt offstage. Guess they figured I was harmless. And it was pretty damn funny when the bass player just tossed it down and held his hands up, letting me do my best imitation of a bass guitar. Which I always have been damn good at.

Ursula slid a long slender arm around my waist. "Stay here and dance or go home and make boom-boom?"

I turned to her and squinted in her blue eyes. "Babe, you're as drunk as I am."

"Uh-huh." She winked at me.

"We can't go anywhere until one of us sobers up enough to drive," I pointed out, reaching out to stop myself from swaying back and forth.

"So... I'm hearing 'stay here and dance'?" Ursula surmised, hands still on my waist.

"I think that would be the smarter thing to do," I muttered, really not wanting to get my own butt in trouble. One of the reasons I'd been drinking so heavily tonight. I let my hands slip around my wife's waist and starting swaying in time to the music. God. I'd been practicing law for several years and I have been able to keep and maintain the client/lawyer boundaries on each and every case up until two weeks ago. Now, with Tim and his case, all boundaries were blurred and greyed out. It had become hard to keep that degree of separation. He was more than a client; he was a friend. Before I'd run into him at the police station by pure chance, I'd met him maybe twice in my life before I'd separated and parted ways from Home Free. Completely amicable. I'd just wanted more out of life. I still loved Chris and Adam Rupp as brothers, and Rob Lundquist as well. I lived and worked with them, and I respect them musically and as people in general. And the three of them love Tim, Austin, and Chance deeply. I'd never had a chance to work with them, but I knew they were three very talented musicians. Tim I knew was one hell of a bass, having come on directly after me as a replacement, per se, and his presence had really elevated their platform. Then they pulled Austin off a cruise ship, I believe, and after The Sing-Off they really took off. Hit after hit, radio play, going platinum, doing shows, winning awards... they had it all. All Chris and Adam had ever wanted. Their hopes fulfilled beyond their wildest dreams... Home Free had gone from a small college group to big time, selling out auditoriums and being a major act. I cried—I cried—when I heard Chris was stepping out, going off on his own. I rarely cry. I had not for years and years. My daddy taught me early to be a man, to not show emotions, to be strong, to be a leader. To not be overcome by emotions and to be ruled by mind, logic, and reasoning instead of by the heart or gut. It all went out the window when Chris made that announcement. This was ultimately his baby. Home Free would not exist without Chris Rupp. To hear he was stepping away was a punch in the gut. After all he'd done, after all he'd accomplished. After thirteen years of struggling and three years of unprecedented success, Chris was was letting it go. He was walking away. At the peak of their success, just walking away from long-held dreams. Home Free was dissolving from the inside out just when they made it in the business. Nobody knew what would happen to Home Free, to the band Chris had created from nothing. Adam Chance who? What? I'd never heard of him. I barely gave Chance a, well, a chance at first, thinking he'd never be the musician or vocalist Chris was. How the hell was he supposed to replace an irreplaceable man? Slowly but surely, he started to grow on me. You know, he's not bad after all. Dude could definitely belt it out. Though he wasn't the pretty and light-sounding baritone Chris was—more a bass-baritone, really. I was suitably surprised finding how easily he could slip into the bass role and free Tim up for more leads. Showed a new dynamic to the band I loved, the band that would always own a piece of my heart.