The Bad Jokes #2: The Blonde

Chapter 21 (Wyatt): Perfectly Clear

***TW for mention of alcoholism***

The next morning, I spoke with Blue about my idea and he endorsed it wholeheartedly. Knowing Gracie could stay up late writing, I waited until noon to text her.

Been thinking about your newest book. Can I call you?

Gracie texted me back a thumbs up in minutes.

I called her immediately.

"Hey, Gracie. I had an idea I wanted to run past you." I'd decided it was best to jump right in and not force her to endure any small talk with me.

"OK." Her voice was neutral. Not interested but not disinterested. 

"After we talked about your rockstar book last night, I thought maybe you'd like some real life experience with a rocker and his band, with his bodyguards and experience life on a tour bus. And I talked to Blue about it this morning, and he said you're welcome to join him. Us."

She didn't say anything, but I could hear her thinking. Gracie was examining all the angles, going back and forth, debating the pros and cons. Being with me probably being the biggest con on her list.

"I'll stay away from you as much as I can on the bus if you want," I said as the silence lengthened. Please don't want.

"It would be a great way to add some reality to the story, more depth," she said slowly, but it was to herself. "Experience and see things that research alone wouldn't give me."

Yes, Gracie!

"When could I come out? How long could I stay?" she asked.

"Whenever you want and for however long you want." For the remainder of the tour works for me.

"Would...hmmmm...would two weeks," she was thinking this through out loud, "would two weeks work? Be too much?"

"That'd be fine," I said. More than fine and infinitely better than you turning down the offer.

"When is your next stop on the tour?"

"We have two smaller shows tonight and tomorrow, but then we get to Chicago in three days. We'll be there for two nights, then we go to St Louis and we're there for another two nights. Either one of those would be a good place to join the tour."

Gracie was done thinking. "Chicago. I'd like to see a concert in a big city first, see what you bodyguards do to prepare, see what the band does before a major show."

"Let me know if you're flying into Midway or O'Hare and send me your flight details, and I'll arrange an airport pick up for you." I'll be picking you up, Gracie.

"OK. I'll text you the details once I book my flight. I have a lot to get done in the next few days."

"Let me know if you have any questions. I'll see you soon, Gracie."

"Wyatt?" She stopped me before I could end the call. "I really appreciate this. Thank you," she said sincerely then hung up.

Later that afternoon, I found my way to the seat across from Blue. He was strumming a guitar, a faraway look in his eyes. Eventually he looked at me, a question in his eyes.

"Any luck with your girl?"

"I fucked it up so bad that she's about as far from being my girl as a stranger on the street," I said. "But she's joining us in Chicago for two weeks. I'll give her my bunk and sleep on one of the convertible sofas so we'll have room for her."

"No greater love than that," Blue laughed. "Those sofas aren't the most comfortable things for sleeping on."

"Don't care," I said. "I'm just happy she agreed to travel with us."

"I'll carve out some time to talk with her while she's traveling with us," he promised.

"Appreciate it. She'll be grateful for any time you can spare. I'll have some of the PPOs talk with her, too. I've already arranged for her ID and all-access passes."

Blue studied me for a minute. "What's she like?"

"She's smart," I said. "Funny as hell. Great sense of humor. Loving. Sweet. Lives with her head in the clouds half the time and it's because she's so damn creative. You can be talking with her and right in the middle of the conversation, she'll get this look in her eyes and zone out for a minute and it's because she's thinking about one of the books she's working on. Maybe she worked out a plot point. Maybe she was thinking about a character's critical flaw. Maybe she got a line of dialogue in her head. She'll either make a note on her phone or in a notebook she always has on her because her head's a busy place and she doesn't want anything to get lost. Then she'll pick up the thread of the conversation as if she never left it."

"As someone who can do the same thing, I admire you for handling that so nicely. My wives and girlfriends got annoyed putting up with my shit, as they called it, and they sure as hell let me know it."

"I would think they'd see it for the privilege it was."

Blue looked at me, confused. 

"You're letting us be a part of the artistic process, even in some small way. I'm not creative like you and Gracie are, but watching while something shakes out in your minds is fucking amazing. Gracie always gets this little lift to the corner of her mouth, and I know it means that something she had put on simmer finally bubbled over. Problem solved."

Blue leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blue eyes intense. "What I don't get, Wyatt, is how much you obviously love this woman and yet you managed to so thoroughly fuck things up with her."

"I don't get it, either, when I look back on it. All I know is that every time I had the chance to make a good decision or a bad one, I chose the wrong fucking one."

"Well, now, I can relate to that. Holy shit can I relate to that," Blue said. "Swear I've spent the majority of my fifty-eight years on this planet fucking things up. Finally straightened my ass out, but I'm still on the learning curve. Not as steep as it once was, but I'm still learning, trying to be better."

"You're a good man, Blue," I said. And he was. That wasn't just me blowing smoke.

"Don't know about that. I will say I'm a man who's trying to get to good despite some serious mistakes I've made along the way."

"But you're trying. Your mistakes aren't going to be the last word in your life because you won't let them be." 

"You got that right," he said vehemently. "I've met a lot of people in my time. And you know what, Wyatt? Not one of them is perfect. Not a one. They've all messed up at some point in their lives, they've all done shit they regret and wish they could take back. It's part of the human condition. Doesn't mean you can't try to do better and be better -- that's the important thing to me. Not that you fucked up, but that you're trying to fix things. I have to hold on to that because otherwise? I'd never be able to be more than the product of all of my piss-poor choices as an alcoholic."

His words hovered between us for a bit.

"You're going to have her with you for two weeks, Wyatt. Use the time to show her you're more than the piss-poor choices you made. Show her every day she's here what she means to you. Don't leave her any room for doubt."

"Already planning on it," I told him. "I intend to make my feelings perfectly clear to her."