GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (8 page)

“Until
you
discovered me? What?” Zenith stood slowly to his feet. “You didn’t discover me, mothafucka! The Creator discovered me, and my grandfather cultivated me, okay? As far as I’m concerned, I was taught by one of the best drummers in the world, and he just happened to raise me so let’s not do this, Javier. Let’s…not…do…this.” He seethed with rage as they stared each other down.

“So he only came up to
you
?” Miguel asked, as if he was running some shit, perhaps hosting an inquisition.

“Yeah, that’s what I said, isn’t it?” Zenith’s eyes narrowed on the bastard.

“Look man, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one that got approached by Pop Evil’s manager and didn’t say shit. You went home with us on Black Iris’ bus, drank, smoked a splif, fucked a chick or two and—”

“I didn’t smoke any weed with you and I ain’t fuck no bitches so get those lies out your goddamn mouth.” He pointed in his direction, now eyeing Javier and Miguel with a death glare.

“Whatever, man.” Miguel waved him off; arrogant, lying son of a bitch that he was. “You sat there like everything was cool. You sneaky, man, you know that? Grimy as fuck. I never did trust you. Javier been a sucka… thinkin’ you was his best friend. You just look out for yourself, take the money and run.” Ini Kamoze’s ‘Hot Stepper’ came on the air.

“You never trusted me, huh? You funny as hell, man. You’re a hack, a talentless piece of shit, wannabe Jimi Hendrix that can’t even play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in the right key.”

“Man, fuck you!” Spit sprayed out of Miguel’s twisted mouth. “You always thought you was better than everybody else in this group. You ain’t shit. You’re overrated! Talking about you and Javier this, and you and Javier that… Ain’t nobody coming to no sold out drum shows, man! They come to see this nigga right here!” He shot his finger in Javier’s direction. “You just a side dish.”

“Still better than you, supremely hated, gutless, mindless midget.”

“Fuck you, Zenith.”

“And fuck you too, you raggedy piece of shit…always trying to look hard and cool when there’s a crowd around, but if it was just me and you standing here, you’d piss on yourself if I ran up on you.”

“I’m not scared of you, Zenith. You think ’cause you big, got tats and a few muscles, I’m supposed to be scared, huh?” The little dude muscled up, like he wanted a sample, see what he was made of.

“I’ll fuck you up, little boy, and not even get winded. Don’t believe me? Tell these mothafuckas to give us just two minutes alone; hell, just sixty seconds would do. They’d come back and you’d need a body bag, or in your case, a small sandwich Ziploc would suffice and there’d
still
be room left over.”

“Stop this shit!” Javier hollered out, raising his hand in the air.

“No, Javier! Somebody needs to tell this son of a bitch what we’ve all been sayin’ behind his back,” Miguel barked, then got back on Zenith. “You got this chance you’d probably never have gotten without us, and fucked up what we had in the process. I ain’t your friend, but Javier is… and he’s my blood, so you mess him over, you mess me over, too. You kept missing practice to go and fuck Silver. You act like you ain’t never had no damn pussy before! You let a female come between you and the band, punk ass bitch!”

Zenith made a mad dash towards the bastard, lunging, reaching out, grabbing at air. The little twerp was a mere few feet away before Flip and Javier seized him, dragging him away. The little punk sneered.

“Yeah, do something, Tomahawk… I dare you.”

“Miguel, shut the hell up! I’m not going for that shit,” Javier yelled out, struggling to keep Zenith away.

“Let me go!” Zenith spat out, kicking and punching about. “I’m about to fuck his ass up!” Flip and Javier must have used all of their strength to keep him at bay, away from the guppy in front of him.

“Get his arm, Flip! Mike, get off your ass and help us, goddamn it!” Mike set his phone down and leisurely walked up, then did absolutely nothing but stand there, watch, and shake his head.

“Yeah, let him go.” Miguel laughed as he slumped down in a seat. “Give a man a little attention, and he loses his damn mind…shit done went to his head,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Shut up, Miguel. You’ve said enough! Zenith, I’m letting you go… but don’t do anything!” Flip said, releasing Zenith’s arm. Flip rarely yelled, let alone got into any beef. The calm, cool, collected member of the group had had enough, too. His eyes, semi glazed and reddened like a slice of watermelon, gave him a sinister air. He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “What the hell is going on here? We should be happy for Zenith instead of doing this. We all knew he was just as qualified as the rest of us, if not more so, and honestly, we got some of the venues we got because the promoters liked him, okay?”

“Oh, bullshit!” Miguel retorted.

“The people either came for Javier or Zenith, sometimes both. It’s you two right here that kept the flame lit.” He pointed at both men. “We all have known it. The women scream all of our names, but ‘Javier’ and ‘Zenith’ the loudest! We always said if
one
of us made it, we
all
would make it. What’s wrong with you all? This is what needed to happen!”

Everyone was quiet for a while.

“And I’m tired of this. We’re in our thirties now…” Flip removed his sunglasses from the top of his head and laid them down gently on a nearby table. “This is what we wanted. Yeah, playing gigs is fun, but we always wanted more, to do more. I don’t believe this is bad. This is a good thing.” He looked over at Zenith with a sad smile. “He’s not replaceable… but this is a chance of a lifetime. He won’t forget us; he’s our friend. This is his big break, and he’s cracked the door open.”

“…And I’m bringing you guys in with me as soon as I get a chance,” Zenith stated woefully. “Just let me get my foot in the door, that’s all I ask. Besides, we don’t know what’s going to happen. I could get in there and they don’t like me, you know? None of this is guaranteed.”

Javier looked down at the ground, arms crossed again, but said nothing. Then, he straightened up, put one booted foot in front of the other, and walked the fuck out…

A feeling of heaviness overwhelmed him. He made to leave and, as he passed Flip, he paused. Grabbing his friend, his band mate, he gave the man daps.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. We love you.”

Zenith nodded, needing to hear those words right about then.

“I’ll see you when I get back. My flight leaves tomorrow morning. I’ll only be gone a couple of days. I’ll be back here, in time for the next gig. If Javier doesn’t want me, he can say so… but I’ll come, just in case.”

Flip nodded and gripped his hand, enclosing it in both of his.

“It’ll all work out. Make sure you call me while you out there.”

“I will.” Zenith approached the door of the basement, prepared to see himself out. Then, he paused and shot Miguel a look from over his shoulder.

“Call me a name like that again, and I’ll pick your little ass up and slam you down so hard, you’ll turn to instant dust. No one will be able to save you.”

“Ohhhhh, scary!” Miguel cackled, laughing his head off.

Zenith raced towards him and lifted the fucker up by his collar. His feet dangled in the air like some puppet blowing in the wind, and a look of true fear coated the man’s eyes. “Put me… down… man!” he gurgled, his feet swinging frantically. Zenith held on to him for a while, then tossed him in the chair like a bag of old rags. The thing rocked back, threatening to take the bastard down with it. Miguel quickly grabbed the arms of the chair and maintained his balance, all the while looking up at Zenith, not daring to blink or turn away.

“You showed your true colors with that one tonight, Miguel. That’s like me calling you a spic… Racial slurs against your band mate, man? Really? Tomahawk, huh? That’s supposed to be funny, right? That’s cute. As much as you get on my fucking nerves, I thought for certain that even
you
wouldn’t cross certain lines. What the fuck is wrong with you, man? I know mothafuckas that would
kill
you over some shit like that! And you
know
it’s true!”

Miguel stiffened up and scrambled to sit straight. Reality had hit. His cousin was no longer there to protect him. Javier had left in a heated huff and Flip may have turned a blind, reddened eye and let him have at him, for he didn’t raise one damn finger to assist when he’d held him up like a flag in the air.

“Let me let you in on something, since you think truth serum is the beverage of choice this evening. You would’ve been out of this band if it wasn’t for me.” He thumped his finger into his chest.

“You’re crazy, man…just making up stuff.”

“Really? You wanna bet on that? I told Javier at least twice not to cut your ass. He wanted to replace you a long ass time ago.”

“Zenith…” Flip began.

“Nah, man! He needs to know what tha fuck is up since he believes he’s the owner of reality!” He smirked. “So I’m just giving it to him how he served it to me. You don’t like it? Too damn bad. You’re mediocre, Miguel. You’re a ‘C’ on your best day. Every other motherfucker in here, in Pure Grit, was born with a gift. Javier can sing better than half these bastards with record deals. Flip can outplay anybody on the keyboard; I’d put money on it. Mike is one of the meanest guitarists to walk the state of New York. People don’t take him seriously because of the way he looks! The whole system is fucked up! But you?” Zenith shook his head and slicked his tongue over his lower lip, working hard to regain his composure. “You learned how to play, but you aren’t great. You aren’t even good. You’re just workable. Even the
best
fucker can be replaced!

“There will always be someone better than each and every one of us, but we’ve got pure talent, pure determination, and pure cohesion! That’s what makes this band work. That’s why we’re called Pure Grit! I’ve been friends with these fuckers since 8
^th
grade, got to know Javier well in the 9
^th
, been in the band since sophomore year, became best friends with your cousin at that same damn time—and you just came up in this shit, a damn sympathy vote because you wanted to have groupies, play for crowds, shit like that! Your heart ain’t in this… and that’s wrong. You’re in it for all the wrong reasons. To make matters worse, there’s speculation that
you
are the one that’s holding us back!”

Miguel visibly swallowed as his complexion reddened.

“I was advised to get online, look some shit up… and I did. I suggest you do the same. Popular opinion ain’t always popular. Javier wanted someone better, but he loves you, and he was torn. I told him you were family, man, and he needed to work it out. I ain’t got no damn family! They’re dead!” He picked up a chair and threw the damn thing across the room, making a loud banging noise as it hit the wall. “All I got is my grandfather, and you already know what’s going down with him. I’m hangin’ on by a thread and then you have the
nerve
, the goddamn audacity, to act like I was on some sneaky, ill shit?! Really, dog?! Y’all are all I
got
! Fucking you over is like fucking me over,
too
!

“Family is important, man. You don’t do family like that unless they leave you no choice. I told him to work with you, that you’d get better as long as you kept at it. I even suggested that Mike work with you, hands on. Mike is busy; he works three jobs and has a couple of kids to support.” Mike looked up at him lazily, nodded, and went back to surfing the Internet on his phone. “You’ve been talking shit all this time, not realizing that
you
were the real focus of the animosity. So before you try to step to me, thinking you’re bringing breaking news, you better take your ass to the john and look in the goddamn mirror first… I have a stepstool if you need to borrow it so you can see clearly in that mothafucka.”

Flip looked away, as if the scene proved all too painful to watch, but the truth was the damn truth. Zenith had lost his parents, his high school buddy, and possibly the band that was more like a group of brothers than anything else…

“I can’t hate you, Miguel. You can’t help it.”

“I don’t care if you like me or not,” the man mumbled, maintaining a shaky grip to bravery.

Zenith sighed and shook his head. “You’re just sad, man. It must be hard to be you. I feel sorry for you… Javier and I are like brothers. This isn’t easy for me. You’ve always been jealous of our relationship and are probably pleased as hell that he’s mad at me right now. He and I have never gotten into it like this, ever! Regardless, I’m going to do this shit, give it my all. Hope I make it, but I believe God has a plan for me either way, Miguel. One way or another, things are going to work out. They are being set up in my favor; things are happening, they are changing, the wind is blowing in a new direction. This may or may not be that doorway, I have no idea, but
something
is coming, and something is coming soon, and I’m taking
all
of these mothafuckas with me.” He waved his finger around the room. “Except
one
… and I bet you can guess who that is…”

And then he walked the hell out, slamming the door behind him…