Last Night at Chateau Marmont

‘Yeah, the only way we can be matched the same place for our residencies is if we’re married.’

‘So you’re both continuing on with gastro?’

‘Yeah, that’s the plan. My interests are more in the scoping and testing area – they’re doing some incredibly high-tech things these days – but Fern is more a Crohn’s/celiac kind of person.’ Trent paused for a moment and appeared to reflect on this before breaking into a wide smile. ‘She’s a great girl. I really think you’ll like her.’

‘Hey, buddy!’ Julian said, clapping Trent on the back. ‘Of course we’ll like her. She’s going to be your wife. How crazy is that?’ Julian leaned over and kissed Brooke full on the lips. He tasted delicious, like chocolate mint, and just seeing him was reassuring.

Trent laughed. ‘Not as crazy as the fact that my socially stunted cousin has had himself a wife for five years now, but it’s up there.’

The three had just clinked glasses – Julian only had water – and were about to get the full rundown on Fern when one of the best-looking guys Brooke had ever laid eyes on seemed to magically appear by her side. He was at least six inches taller than her, which immediately made Brooke feel girlishly slight and dainty. She wished for the umpteenth time that Julian were as tall as this mystery man but then forced the thought from her head; Julian probably wished Brooke’s body was more like Nola’s, so what right did she have? The guy wrapped an arm around Brooke’s back and squeezed her left shoulder, so close she could smell his cologne. Masculine, subtle, and expensive. She blushed.

‘You must be the wife,’ he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, a gesture that felt oddly intimate and impersonal at the same time. His voice was not nearly as deep as Brooke would’ve expected from someone of his height and obvious level of fitness.

‘Leo, I’d like you to meet Brooke,’ Julian said. ‘Brooke, this is Leo, new manager extraordinaire.’

A gorgeous Asian girl walked by at that exact moment and both Brooke and Julian watched as Leo winked at her. Where the hell was Nola? She needed to warn her early and often that Leo was off-limits. It wasn’t going to be easy – Leo was exactly her type. His pink dress shirt was open one button more than most men would dare, and it highlighted his lovely tan – dark enough but without a hint of booth or aerosol. His pants were low-waisted and European slim. He dressed as though his hair should’ve been slicked back with heavy product, but he smartly let his thick, dark locks wave freely just over his eyes. The only flaw she could make out was a scar that bisected his right eyebrow in a hairless dividing line, but it actually worked to his benefit, taking away any hint of effeminate overgrooming or perfection. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his entire body.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Leo,’ Brooke said. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

He didn’t appear to hear. ‘Okay, listen,’ he said, turning to Julian. ‘I just got word that you’re scheduled as the final act. One down, one to go, then you.’ Leo peered intently over Julian’s shoulder as he talked.

‘Is that good news?’ Brooke asked politely. Julian had already told her that none of the other musicians scheduled to perform that night were in any real competition. One was an R&B group who everyone thought sounded like a modern-day Boyz II Men, and the other was a heavily tattooed female country singer who wore frilly dresses and pigtails.

She looked at Leo and saw that once again, his gaze had wandered. Brooke followed it and saw he was staring directly at Nola. Or, more precisely, Nola’s pencil-skirt-swathed bum. She made a mental note to threaten Nola with banishment and worse if she went anywhere near him.

Leo cleared his throat and took a swig of whiskey. ‘The chick went already, and she was decent. Not mind-blowing, but mildly entertaining. I think—’

He was cut off by the sound of voices harmonizing. There wasn’t a stage, exactly, but there was a cleared area in front of the piano where four African-American men in their early twenties stood, each leaning in toward a central microphone. For a moment it sounded like a really good college a capella group, but then three of the guys stepped back and left the main singer alone to croon about his childhood in Haiti. The crowd nodded and grooved appreciatively.

‘Hey, baby.’ Julian circled around the group and came up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck and she almost groaned aloud. He was wearing his uniform, unchanged even after all these years: white T-shirt, Levi’s, and a knit cap. The outfit couldn’t have been less exceptional, but it had come to signify pure sexiness to Brooke. The cap was Julian’s signature, the closest thing he had to a ‘look,’ but only Brooke knew it was more than that. Just last year Julian had been crushed to discover the tiniest bald spot in the history of hair loss. Brooke tried to assure him that it was barely noticeable, but Julian would hear none of it. And truth be told, it may have gotten slightly bigger since he’d first pointed it out, although she’d never admit it.

No one who saw all those luscious dark curls peeking out from under the cap would ever guess what Julian was trying to cover up underneath it, and for Brooke, it only added to Julian’s appeal, made him more vulnerable and human. She secretly loved that she was the only one who ever got to see Julian without the caps, when he would safely pull them off at home and shake his curls just for her. Had someone told Brooke a few years earlier that she’d find her thirty-two-year-old husband’s increasing baldness to be one of his most appealing qualities she would’ve laughed with disbelief, but that is exactly what had happened.

‘How are you feeling? Are you nervous?’ Brooke asked, searching his face for a hint as to how he was holding up. He’d been a wreck all week – barely eating, never sleeping, even vomiting earlier that afternoon – but when Brooke tried to talk to him about it, he’d completely turtled. She had wanted to accompany him to the venue that night, but Julian insisted she go with Nola. He said he needed to talk through a few things with Leo, get there early, make sure everything was set up. Something must have worked, because he looked a little more relaxed.

‘I’m ready,’ he said with a determined nod. ‘I’m feeling good.’

Brooke kissed him on the cheek, knowing he was wracked with nerves but proud of him for holding it together. ‘You look good. You look ready. You’re going to be fantastic tonight.’

‘You think so?’ He sipped his club soda, and Brooke noticed his knuckles were white. She knew he was dying for something stronger, but he never drank before a performance.

‘I know so. When you’re sitting at that piano, all you’re thinking about is the music. Tonight is no different from doing a gig at Nick’s. The crowd always loves you, baby. Remember that. Just be yourself, and they’re going to love you here too.’

‘Listen to your wife,’ Leo said, returning from a quick chat with the people behind him. ‘Just forget where you are and why you’re here and do your thing. Got it?’

Julian nodded and tapped his foot furiously. ‘Got it.’

Leo motioned toward the area in the back of the room. ‘Let’s get you set up.’

Brooke stood on her tiptoes and kissed Julian on the mouth. She squeezed his hand and said, ‘I’ll be right here the whole time, but forget about all of us. Just close your eyes and play your heart out.’

He shot her a grateful look but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Leo led him off, and before she could finish her wine, one of the A&R guys announced Julian over the microphone.

Brooke looked around again for Nola and spotted her talking to a group of people in front of the bar. That girl knew everyone. Happy to have Trent there, Brooke let him lead her to a little sliver of couch space, where he motioned for her to take a seat. She perched herself on the end of a velvet sofa and nervously gathered her hair into a knot. She rooted around in her bag for a hair tie but couldn’t find one.

‘Here,’ said the beautiful Asian girl Leo had winked at earlier. She pulled a brown elastic off her wrist and handed it to Brooke. ‘I have a million.’

Brooke paused for a minute, unsure what to do, and the girl smiled. ‘Really, it’s fine. There’s nothing more annoying than not being able to get hair off your face. Although if I had your hair, I’d never tie it back.’

‘Thanks,’ Brooke said, accepting the tie and immediately twisting it into her ponytail. She was going to say something more, maybe something self-deprecating about how she wouldn’t wish being a redhead on anyone, but at that moment Julian took his seat at the piano, and she heard his voice, a little shaky, thanking everyone for coming.

The girl took a swig from the bottle of beer she was holding and asked, ‘Have you ever heard him before?’

Brooke could only nod and pray the girl would stop talking. She didn’t want to miss a single moment, and she was totally preoccupied wondering if anyone else could hear the slight wobble in Julian’s voice.

‘Because if not, you’re really in for something. He is the sexiest singer I’ve ever seen.’

This caught her attention. ‘What?’ she asked, turning to the girl.

‘Julian Alter,’ the girl said, waving toward the piano. ‘I’ve heard him a couple times in different venues around the city. He has a few regular gigs. And I’m telling you, he’s ridiculously good. Makes John Mayer look like amateur hour.’

Julian had begun to play ‘For the Lost,’ a soulful song about a young boy who loses his older brother, and she felt Trent glance in her direction – he was probably the only other person in the entire room who knew what truly inspired that song. Julian himself was an only child, but Brooke knew he often thought of the brother who had died of SIDS before Julian was born. To this day the Alters never discussed James, but Julian had gone through a stage where he wondered, sometimes obsessively, what James would’ve been like today, how different life might have been with an older brother.

His hands moved across the piano keys, producing the first haunting notes that would eventually build to a powerful crescendo, but Brooke couldn’t focus on anything but the girl beside her. She wanted to hug her and slap her all at the same time. It was disconcerting to hear this perfectly attractive girl rave about Julian’s sexiness – no matter how long they’d been together, she never got used to that aspect – but it was so rare to hear a totally honest and unfiltered opinion.

‘You think so?’ Brooke asked, suddenly desperate for the girl to agree.

‘Oh, definitely. I tried to tell my boss, like, a dozen times, but Sony got him first.’ The girl’s attention to Brooke started to wane as Julian’s volume increased, and by the time he tilted his head and sang out the raw, emotional chorus, she was fixated only on him. Brooke wondered if she noticed Julian’s wedding band through the haze of worship.

Brooke turned to watch, and it was all she could do not to sing along. She knew every word by heart.

They say Texas is the promised land

In the highway’s dust you become a man

Blind and blue, lonely in love

Scars on your hands, broken above

He was a mother’s dream, he was a fist of sand

My brother, you slipped away with the second hand

Like parallel lines that never cross

For the lost, for the lost

The woman sits alone in a room