The Russos 3 Page 4

  "He'd be embarrassed. He looks up to you, admires you. He was a big fan before he found out you were his uncle."

  "And he's not one anymore?" Drake raised an eyebrow. "Why, because I changed his diapers?"

  Janet punched him in the arm. "You know what I mean."

  Francine was sipping her coffee, sitting quietly across from them now. She looked over at Drake. She could tell it was hard for him, coming here, seeing his brother. She wished she could be of some comfort, but she felt a little out of place with his ex-wife sitting there.

  She was beautiful. No wonder their son was such a dish, two gorgeous parents. She wondered why they had divorced. Maybe it was because Drake was on the road so much, or maybe he had been unfaithful. There was too much temptation in that business. It was one of the things that made her hesitant about becoming involved with him.

  Suddenly Francine heard a woman's voice. She turned around to see an older woman with grey hair scurrying down the hallway. She was calling out Drake's name.

  Drake got up out of his seat and met the woman halfway. He embraced her, lifting her off the floor as he did. "Mama," he scolded her, "what's wrong with you, hurrying like that with your heart! Come and sit down now."

  She was leaning heavily on his arm when he introduced her to Francine. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

  "So you are the lady who got my boy out of jail." She gave Francine a huge smile, and then leaned over, grabbed both her cheeks and pinched them. "Thank you, my darling. I owe you everything. What can I do for you in return...anything...name it, darling."

  Francine's eyes widened and she meant to say something, but Drake did it for her.

  "Mama, it's her job," Drake protested. "She did a good job, but that was what she was supposed to do."

  Sophia nodded. "You never mind. Go and see your brother. He needs you. I will sit right here with lovely Francine and we will chat."

  She let go of Drake's arm and took Francine's. She led her over to the other side of the room, away from Janet.

  Janet gave Drake a meaningful look, and then rolled her eyes.

  Drake made a face and shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Jan. You know, I think I will go in now and see Johnny."

  Janet noticed that the expression on his face had changed suddenly. The good humour had left him. She got out of her chair and took his hand. "Come on. I'll walk with you down the hall."

  He squeezed her hand gratefully in return and then took her arm and placed it in his. "Thanks, my lady," he murmured, bowing his head playfully.

  She giggled as they walked close together. For a minute, she felt as if she were back in high school on prom night.

  When they reached the door of Johnny's room, she stopped. "Do you want me to ask Tony if he'd mind leaving you alone with Johnny for a while?"

  Drake nodded. "Just the first time, okay?"

  "I'll go in and get him, then I can introduce you," she said. She didn't wait for his reply. Instead, she slipped into the room, leaving Drake standing in the hall.

  She avoided looking at her former brother in law for a second or two, her eyes focusing on his son instead.

  She hated the look of all those tubes everywhere. Poor Johnny.

  Tony was sitting beside his father. He had covered his hand with his own. His head was down like he had dozed off but as soon as she spoke his name, he lifted it and looked at her. She could see that he had been crying. His eyes were red and swollen.

  "Your Uncle is here. He wants to meet you," Janet told him, "and if you wouldn't mind, he'd like a few minutes alone with Johnny."

  Tony stood up. He was trembling. "Drake is here?"

  She nodded.

  He walked toward her and then stopped and turned around, taking one last look at his father. "I'm scared I'm never going to get the chance to know my father, Aunt Janet," he said without looking at her. "I don't know if he's ever going to wake up."

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh, Tony," she murmured, walking over to him.

  He turned around now and looked at her.

  She pulled him into her arms. "Don't say that, Tony. Come on, it's going to be all right."

  "Promise?" he said, holding on to her.

  But she couldn't promise that, could she?

  Instead, she said, "Come on, dear, Drake is waiting."

  * * * * * *

  Mac threw down his drumsticks and stood up. He was finished. He was tired and starving and he didn't give a shit what was working and what wasn't in this piece of music.

  "You guys keep on if you want to," he announced, "but I'm getting this ass back home. I need a shower, I need food, and I need to sleep."

  Pepi met his eyes, then laughed. "Okay. Are you satisfied with what we did on 'It's Never Going To Be?'

  "I like the second riff," Angelo offered from where he sat sprawled on the floor in the corner.

  Pepi started to laugh. "The dead have risen."

  "I'm exhausted. I want to see my dad, but I don't think I've got the energy to hang out at that hospital again tonight. I don't know how you people do this shit."

  "I thought you were going to some club that your friend is playing at?" Pepi asked, stepping over extension cords and other equipment.

  "Are you kidding? Not tonight, man," Angelo replied, pulling himself up off the floor.

  Mac yelled up at the sound booth that they were finished for today. There was a resounding "Thank God" and a round of applause.

  Everyone laughed.

  "Okay," Mac said on the way out of the studio, "where's everyone going?" He fiddled with the keys to his purple Jeep Cherokee.

  "Back to Johnny's," Pepi said. "You guys are welcome to stay with me tonight if you want."

  "That's a great idea," Angelo replied. Mac agreed.

  "We'll order pizza in," Mac said as he got behind the wheel. Pepi and Angelo squeezed in beside him.

  "I'll just call the hospital once we get back to uncle Johnny's and say hi to Dad and let him know that we'll see him tomorrow, okay?" Angelo offered, placing his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.

  Pepi looked out the window as they drove down Sunset Boulevard. "Don't worry too much about it," he said, "Drake's with Johnny now. Do you really think he'll miss us that much, Angelo?"

  Angelo detected the bitterness in his Uncle's voice.

  He looked over at Mac, who had doubled his concentration on the road.

  Angelo chose not to respond to his question.

  * * * * * *

  Tony hovered behind his aunt as he stepped out into the hallway.

  Drake stepped around Janet in order to see him.

  When he did see his face, he let out a low gasp.

  Johnny's son. There would be no mistaking that face, those eyes, that hair, even if he hadn't known beforehand.

  He swallowed. He lowered his head, smiled at him.

  "Tony?"

  Tony raised his eyes to his Uncle's face. He bit his lip.

  "Drake...Drake Russo," he managed. "I never expected to...in my whole life...I...I mean...I couldn't even get tickets to your concert, let alone...I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just..."

  "It's okay. Listen, I'm going in now to see your dad. We'll talk when I come out, okay?" Drake reached over and squeezed his arm.

  Tony nodded and smiled at him. "Sure."

  Drake brushed by him now and pushed open the door to his brother's room.

  Janet placed an arm around her nephew's shoulders.

  They were just about to begin walking down the hallway when they heard what they thought was a loud shout coming from Johnny's room.

  Tony looked at his aunt in alarm and ran to the door.

  Janet reached out and prevented him from opening it. It was perfectly quiet now. "Don't," she said sadly.

  "Leave him alone, okay?"

  Tony could hear sobbing coming from behind the closed door. He swallowed. He couldn't quite picture Drake Russo crying, but he was. He was crying as if his heart was breaking.

  Tony
turned around and looked at his aunt.

  Her eyes were full of tears. She blinked, and one rolled down her cheek. "Come on," Janet managed, "let's go sit down now, okay?"

  Tony took one last hesitant look at the door and then followed his aunt down the hallway.

  * * * * * *

  Drake raised his head from his brother's chest. The room looked somewhat blurry for a minute, until he wiped his eyes with a tissue he found on the night table.

  He looked back down at his brother and then touched his cheek with his lips. "You can't die on me, Johnny, because I don't think I could go on without you," he whispered against his skin.

  He moved away from him and went to the window.

  He suddenly couldn't bear to look at him because he felt as if he were on the verge of tears again. God, he hadn't cried like that since...well, maybe he had never cried like that, not even while he had been in jail. His stomach hurt, his chest ached. Pain that comes up from the depth of your very soul and grips you, forcing it out of you in one great gush was something he couldn't remember experiencing before. It frightened him to come face to face with it, to have to acknowledge that there was all that hovering beneath the surface. What was worse is that when it began, he couldn't seem to stop it. It took control of him.

  He closed his eyes and came back over to the bed.

  He looked at his brother's face, ran his gaze over the white sterile gauze that covered his head. He had done this. He had taken out that stupid gun that he kept in the nightstand and threatened suicide. Christ, what had gotten into him? Had he really intended to do it, blow his own brains out? True, he had joked about it. He had frightened his former girlfriend by placing it in his mouth once. Was he really so unhappy?

  Yes, a voice whispered inside him.

  But he had everything...practically. All he had ever dreamed of had happened. He was a star. He made his living doing what he loved to do best, making music.

  More than that, they had been one of the most popular rock groups in North America and Europe for the last ten years. How many other groups could lay claim to that? He was rich. Women and men threw themselves at his feet. He had a wonderful relationship with his ex-wife, a fantastic son who was turning out to be as musically gifted as he was. He spent his time with his two brothers and best friend travelling and making wonderful memories. What more could he want?

  What he wanted was to be in love, really in love. He wanted the passion. He wanted a soul mate, someone to talk to, put his trust in, to have fun with, fight with.

  He wanted to make love under the moonlight, walk in the sand. He wanted to know someone really loved him for himself, not because he was Drake Russo. He had given others a chance. He began relationships thinking that this time, this was it. He had really tried, but to no avail. He had failed them, often miserably, because they could never live up to what he really wanted.

  None of them were Johnny. They could never be.

  Janet understood this finally, understood it even before he did. He could remember exactly what she had said to him when they both knew it was over. Angelo had been sleeping in his crib in the next room, and she went and quietly closed the door.

  She had looked at him with dry eyes and said, "Drake, I loved you the best I could, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, because your heart does not belong to me. Out of all of us--Pepi, your parents, me--it's Johnny you love best. It's Johnny who knows you and it's Johnny you run to. So go and be with your brother. It will always be the two of us. No one could ever come before Johnny."

  Those words had angered him more than anything else she might have told him at that time. They angered him because they were true.

  Drake moved up beside his brother now. He took his hand. "I love you. I do love you, Johnny. Right or wrong. That night was the most wonderful night of my life. I will never forget holding you like that, but I can't bring myself to be...to be your lover, Johnny. As much as it hurts, we can never ever be together in that way again. You need to accept this."

  Drake squeezed his hand.

  "Don't die, Johnny. You'll kill me if you die, and your son...Tony...he's here. He wants to know you, man. Remember how much you've missed him...how you always talked about him and..." Drake paused, trembling. "Now's your chance. Goddamn it, Johnny!"

  Drake shouted at him. "Wake up, wake up, you son of a bitch. If you love me as much as you told me you did that night...wake up! Don't do this to me! I can't go on...can't live with the pain...the guilt. If you die...I'll blame myself forever. Johnny! Johnny, I'll do anything, even be your lover if that's what it takes to bring you back. I'll burn in hell, I swear I don't care. I don't care anymore!"

  Drake didn't realize that he was shouting until a nurse came in and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at her. Tears coursed down his face. "He can't die," he cried, "I can't deal with it. I've tried to tell myself that I will handle it if he doesn't wake up but I can't. I will lose my mind!"

  She tried to comfort him, say something that would ease his pain. She didn't know what to do. The words he spoke sounded bizarre, strange. She watched him.

  He had slumped over his brother. He was crying softly now, saying his name. This was Drake Russo, the Drake Russo, the rock star, and she had no idea what to do.

  She waited for a minute. It was distress. It would pass.

  He raised his head and looked at her. He forced a smile. "I'm okay now. You can go. I promise to be quiet, okay?"

  "If you're sure," the nurse murmured.

  Drake nodded, and she left the room.

  "See," Drake laughed slightly, "you've let me make a fool of myself, bro. It's not the first time, is it?" Drake pulled up a chair and sat near him. "Well, I'm going to talk now and it's the first time you won't be able to talk back. I'm going to get the last word too...unless you speak up. What do you think about that, kid?" He swallowed. He gave him a mock punch on the arm.

  Johnny Russo lay quiet on his hospital bed while Drake began to reminisce about their lives. For the first time, he felt as if he could hear a voice. It was far away.

  He tried to strain to listen. What was the voice saying?

  He could hear words, but they had no meaning. He knew that voice. Drake. Drake. God, where was his brother? Was he all right? He had to get to him. Who was talking? Someone, someone was touching him. He tried to touch back, but couldn't. The voice was fading again. He was fading. The fog got thicker and then blackness.

  * * * * * *

  Tony sat down beside his aunt in the waiting room. He wasn't sure why hearing Drake cry had upset him so much, but it had.

  Janet looked over at Sophia, who was still deep in conversation with Francine Thomson. She sighed. Don't be a fool, girl, she wanted to shout at her.

  "Who's that woman Grandmother is talking to?"

  Tony asked, glancing at her.

  "Drake's lawyer," Janet replied.

  Tony gave her a confused look. "Why is his lawyer...?"

  "Don't ask!" His aunt interrupted, shaking her head.

  Tony sighed. "Where is Angelo? He didn't come back, did he?"

  "No."

  "He's probably angry at me for what I said," Tony muttered. "I really wish I..."

  "He'll get over it. Emotions are high now. Don't worry about it." She waved it all away. Watching Sophia with that lawyer woman was bugging her. "I've never known Angelo to hold a grudge," she added when she saw that Tony didn't look convinced. She took a breath and stood up. "Maybe we should think about going home. What do you say? Angelo might be at home."

  "Sounds great," Tony agreed, getting up. He was tired.

  "I've had enough for the day. I really don't know if it makes much sense to come to the hospital and sit here for hours every single day. I think I'll take the day off tomorrow, how 'bout it? The hospital will notify the family if there is any change."

  Tony nodded. "It depresses me, seeing him like that, but I keep thinking that if I talk to him, he's going to wake up and either
tell me to shut up or answer me."

  Janet gave him a compassionate smile and then took his arm. "Let's go."

  "Oh, shit," Tony paused, "I just remembered that Drake said we were supposed to talk later."

  "He'll be with Johnny a long time, Tony. He'll understand if we're not still here. He might stop at the house later," she told him, then looking over at Francine, she said, "Well...tomorrow. He'll probably come over tomorrow."

  Tony didn't argue. He was tired. He wanted to go back to Aunt Janet's and rest. He lifted a hand to his grandmother. He didn't want to interrupt her conversation with the lawyer lady.

  Sophia stopped talking and got up, excusing herself.

  She came over to where Tony and Janet stood. "You're not leaving, are you?"

  "Yes, we've been here all day, Sophia. I'm taking Tony home. He needs to rest," Janet explained, digging in her handbag for her car keys.

  "But Drake is here," Sophia protested.

  "Yes," Janet blinked, stone-faced, "and he's with Johnny. His girlfriend is here, he'll be all right," Janet tossed when Sophia responded by giving her former daughter-in-law a look of disapproval.

  "She is a nice girl. She would be good for Drake," Sophia announced.

  Tony saw his aunt stiffen. "Yes, I'm sure she would. Well, got to go. See you tomorrow. Drake will make sure you get home all right."

  Sophia nodded and then reached over and kissed Tony on the cheek. "I will explain to Drake you had to leave, dear. You do need to make time to spend with your uncle while you're here."

  Tony promised he would.

  On the way down in the elevator, Janet shook her head and then laughed a little bitterly. "Sophia never learns."

  "I'm sorry that she said that, Aunt Janet. It really hurt you, didn't it?" Tony suggested softly.

  Janet met her nephew's eyes. "It's not only that. It's that she has these expectations about Drake and marriage and she knows better...yet she won't give up on...oh, never mind. Forget it, okay? Forget I said anything!"