Chapter 5

Charlie grabbed the phone in the library and dialed up Frank’s cell phone number. It was time to find out if Sheila had really told him the entire truth, and to find out how he really was kicked out of Accelerator.

“Frank Pepper here,” was the answer on the other side of the line.

“It’s Charlie, Frank.”

“Charlie – how, how are you?” Frank sounded nervous.

“Cut the crap, Frank. Sheila just told me something and I want to know if it’s true.”

Frank cleared his throat, and Charlie went on. “Who decided I shouldn’t be in the band anymore, Frank? What the hell happened while I was in the hospital?” He could hear the loudness of his voice, and knew that he was getting his anger across to Frank.

“Charlie, just calm down alright? You’ve been through a lot already. Did Sheila tell you about what happened?”

“Yes – why? Was she not supposed to? Because I just happened to figure it out and it nearly made her crap her pants when I told her I knew!”

“Oh, Charlie. That was our idea, to not tell you about it right away. We didn’t think you would be well enough to handle it, and I think we were right.”

“Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t handle, you asshole!”

“Charlie – you just don’t know what happened, ok? Terry said,”

“Terry! Terry was the one who put you up to this!” Charlie shouted so loud he could hear a humming sound from the other end of the phone.

“Take it easy! Relax! Terry mentioned that with you in the hospital, the tour wasn’t going to happen as planned. Sheila and me were getting hounded by the promoters, and we had to do something. We couldn’t stick you up on the stage in a wheelchair, now, could we?”

The humor was lost on Charlie, as he imagined Bob with the cane standing at the mic on stage singing with the band, and he remained silent as he waited for Frank to cut to the chase.

“So, as a band, we made the decision to go on without you. For the tour, at least.”

“Who’s the new singer – you?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

“No, it’s Terry. He’s got some back up singer too, so there’s that as well.”

“Oh, good, that’s lovely. Terry can butcher up the songs and still get paid.”

“To be honest, Charlie, Terry can sing quite well, and the audiences are loving it.” He knew that had to cut Charlie down a peg, and quickly added, “Of course, there are plenty of signs out there with your name on it, people always asking how you’re doing. How are you doing?”

Charlie was quiet. “How do you think I’m doing?” he answered, acidly.

“I know, I know, it’s not the best situation for you. But you have to realize this is just temporary.”

“I’m not joining up with the band again!” Charlie scoffed. “After this – being cut out so cleanly without having a say in the matter, you think I could get back on stage with those stooges again? You’re out of your mind old man.”

A minute went by with no one saying a word. Finally, Frank said “Charlie, if you’re going solo, I want you to know I’ll help you out anyway I can.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Just call me, when you’re better, we can figure something out. I don’t blame you for being upset, Charlie. You know that, right?” There was no answer. “We’ll, you know it now. You can be pissed off at me for the rest of your life. I’m still saying I will help you if you want me to, any way I can.”

“Hey, Frank?” Charlie finally said.’

“Yeah?”

“Go tell Terry to fuck himself.” Charlie slammed the phone down.

Charlie looked around the library and saw the various decorations that he had placed in this room. It was his one respite from Sheila’s domination of the realm of decoration, and he took to it like any man would. Pictures, gold and platinum albums in frames, and various papers were strewn about the floor, propped up on walls, as if the act of hanging them on the wall or filing away the papers would be too much of an effort for Charlie. Even more so, the unkempt look of the room was satisfying, allowing him to feel free to let his thoughts wander in the room’s wall.

He stood up slowly from his chair at the desk and looked at his feet. He stood among several magazines, dated from last year, and he kicked them away with his good leg’s foot. He hobbled over to the mantle of the fireplace, and leaning on it for balance, looked at the photo on the mantle. It was a picture taken many, many years ago of the band, as they were beginning to recon their fame and fortune. Terry and Charlie’s arms were draped across each other’s shoulders. Aaron and Twig – who had just started to use that stage name, having found Michael to be a boring name for a drummer of a hit rock band – were pouring champagne on each other’s heads. Frank was taking the photo, so he was of course not seen in the shot. But Charlie remembered how thin and well polished Frank was back then. Used to wear blazers to the shows, along with the necessary sunglasses (shades, they were called), and a pair of black cowboy boots. The boots and sunglasses would remain staple items in Frank’s wardrobe, but the blazers would be replaced with leather bomber jackets, which helped (in Frank’s mind alone) to camouflage the ring of middle-aged weight around his stomach. Charlie laughed to himself when he thought about this, and then grimaced. “Those days are long gone, my man,” he said to himself. “Just memories and photographs.”

Charlie turned from the fireplace and went to lay on the sofa, which was placed in front of the only window in the library. The window was darkened by a set of wooden shudders, and as he laid on the sofa he could play with the shudders, opening and closing them swiftly with the push of a finger. He played here for several minutes, thinking to himself about all the massive changes, twists and turns that his life had taken in the span of a few days. A week since the accident, and his life was still thrown into disarray. The room seemed to match the mood he was in, and Charlie reached into his robe pocket. He pulled out his pain pills from the hospital, opened the container and put two pills on his tongue. He forced them down his dry throat, closed the container and put it back into his pocket, and fell asleep on the sofa for two hours.

Meanwhile, Sheila had been sobbing at the table. She had thought about how she tried to be a devoted wife to Charlie, but felt like a miserable failure. Every attempt she made to make his life simpler, more enjoyable, had turned their relationship to shreds. She knew Charlie thought she was the reason for the demise of the band’s good relationship. It was a fact that she hadn’t reckoned with herself, but one she was well aware of. Her attempts to bring Charlie the boat load of the royalties from their songs and shows had driven a stake between him and the rest of the band. Before she came along, they were content to split the money left over after Frank’s take into four equal parts. It worked and afforded them a comfortable life style. But when she was introduced to Charlie, as a means for the record company to not only keep tabs on the star of the show, but also to make sure that he would continue to draw attention to the band from the media with various “rock star moments.” Sheila’s part was to become his confidante, to build up his confidence and let him grow a bigger head. The company had told her what his limits were to be – which were thin and few – and she knew who signed her checks.

She would lead him away from the band’s table at restaurants and clubs, lead him over to more prominent members of the music scene that happened to be at the same places. And if there happened to be a photographer from a big magazine or newspaper there, it was put up as a lovely coincidence to the other band members. They were scolded for feeling jealous of Charlie’s fame and his ability to attract attention – “He’s your lead singer, guys. Any publicity he gets is good for the lot of you,” she would tell them. Frank was in on it too, and knew not to step on Sheila’s toes. He wouldn’t smooth the guys over any more than he had to, at least to keep the peace between himself and the band.

As time went on, she naturally developed an affinity for Charlie that was beyond the boundaries of their professional relationship. Before the record company found out, she made sure to get Charlie to confess his love and devotion to her. Instead of the label firing her for getting too mixed up in her job duties, she quit the label, and Charlie hired her on to be his manager. Only months passed before she had a ring on her finger, and they were buying a home together. A love nest, she would call it. They had gifts sent from relatives, and threatening letters from Charlie’s fans. Even more unsettling was the chilly reception the band gave them. Frank could see the blood in the water, as soon as Charlie announced their engagement – he knew she was in it for the money and attention that she’d grown accustomed to. But even if this was true, Sheila knew it was only part of the truth. She did care about Charlie, and his well being was just as important as her own. But the other guys in the band – they would not be persuaded.

Her presence had unsettled them from the beginning of her reign with Charlie. They would try to get him to realize that she was a vampire, a parasite to his talent. But when a man is fed and filled with love from a woman in power, there is no persuading him to think that he’s being used and slowly devoured. Instead of poisoning their dynamic, the guys reconciled to let Charlie have his Sheila, and they would stay clear of the two when they were together. Frank would be the intermediary for the band and Sheila, which was the cause of his weight gain and change in wardrobe.

With her head down on the dining room table, she felt the weight of the past holding her down. She couldn’t breathe, but didn’t want to. She wanted to die, to be free from the gilded cage she had created for herself and for Charlie. No, she didn’t want to kill herself – she wanted a divorce. She pulled herself up from the table, wiped the tears from her face, and marched into her office.

“Ring up my lawyer, Chad,” she told him over the phone. “I want a meeting at my house this afternoon.”

“Oh, Sheila, are you alright?” he asked her.

“I don’t know, Chad, but just do this for me, alright?”


The lawyer arrived with the necessary documents for them to look over. Chad had garnered the information from Sheila, about why she needed a lawyer, and did the dutiful task of explaining everything for her to the lawyer, to save his boss from the embarrassment. The lawyer, Mr. Kenneth Draper, appeared in a grey wool suit. He had the appearance of a frail, elderly man, looking very thin and pale. However, in the courtroom he could unleash a furious tempest of jargon and wit that would leave any opponent flailing on the ground, wondering how this old bastard chopped them down to size. The frailty of age and anemia was a beneficial disguise.

Charlie had emerged from his room when the doorbell rang, peeked out of the library to see who had entered the house.

Sheila sat down with the lawyer.

“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Draper?”

“Please, call me Ken. I’ll take a scotch and soda.”

Charlie recognized the lawyer’s name and stepped out of his room and went to meet Sheila at the bar. “What is the lawyer doing here?” He grabbed her arm as she reached for the bottle of scotch.

“Charlie!” She jumped back in surprise. “Oh, you startled me.” She took a moment to recover, and said “I called him over to discuss – some things.”

“Such as?”

“A divorce. I think I want a divorce, Charlie.”

He let go of her arm and reeled back into a nearby bar stool. “A divorce?” He repeated her words. “Really?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she started to pour the scotch into two glasses. “That’s why Mr. Draper is here, to talk about it with me. You’re welcome to sit in, too, talk about it.”

“Oh, well, how nice of you to invite me to a meeting with my lawyer, in my house! This is great Sheila – first the band leaves me, and now you want to leave me, is that it?”
Ken had heard the commotion and decided to step in, to help avoid from being party to domestic violence. “Is everything alright here?” He looked at Sheila.

“Oh, yes Ken. Charlie is just, well…”

“I’m upset, Ken,” Charlie continued for her, “because my wife hasn’t told me anything about wanting a divorce. And this is turning out to be the most disastrous of weeks for me. How’s that, Ken? Does that sound like everything is ‘alright’ to you? Do people tend to ask you over for drinks when things are ‘alright’ at home?”

Ken looked into Charlie’s face, and looked down to see the sling his arm was in, and the cast on his leg. “Sorry, Charlie. I heard about the accident, you must be in a lot of pain still. Let’s go back and sit in the living room, ok?” The diplomacy in his voice was a bit unsettling to Charlie, after the confrontation he tried to introduce. They assembled back into the living room, with Ken sitting in-between Charlie and Sheila.

“Have you two discussed any of this before calling me?” Ken said.

“No, I just wanted to hear what my options were,” Sheila answered.

“I didn’t know that she was thinking about this,” Charlie said.

Ken took a sip of his drink. “Usually, couples have several conversations about getting divorced before I even step into the picture. Unless there’s abuse going on, or adultery.” Sheila and Charlie looked at him as if he was purple, and he said “I take that as a ‘no,’ then?”

Sheila said, “Things have been especially strained this week with us, but stuff has been building up for a while. So, I wanted to find out what getting a divorce meant.”

“It means you’re through. Kaput!” Charlie said.

“He’s right,” Ken replied. “You’re no longer married, so you no longer share anything. You have to split up the belongings you’ve acquired throughout your marriage, and in your case since there is no prenuptial agreement, the things you brought into the marriage with you.”

“And alimony?” Charlie asked, as he lifted his glass to Frank. Don’t leave out any of the dirty details.”

“Well, alimony is paid by the spouse – the ex-spouse – who makes more money than the other, in order to continue to give the other spouse the quality of life they have grown accustomed to. That’s determined by a judge.”

“A judge?” Sheila looked confused. “Why does a judge need to figure that out?”

“Because you are going to present your dissolution of marriage to the court, and they determine based on all the facts and figures what’s fair and what isn’t to each member of the marriage.”

“Oh,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked to Charlie for any reaction. He was emotionless.

“So, I’m going to leave now. I’ll let you look at the papers here, and just give me a call if you make any decision.”

“Charlie?” Sheila called out to him to grab his attention.

“Hm? Oh, yes, thanks Frank.”

“I’m Kenneth, Charlie.”

“Oh, yes – sorry. Thanks Kenneth.”

“Charlie – do you want to think about this some more?” Shelia asked.

“Actually, Sheila, maybe,” he was trying to keep up with his thoughts. “Maybe we should just try living away from each other for a while. Take a break, but nothing permanent.” He had been reflecting on all the changes he’d had to live with this week, the pain of the accident, the rejection of his band, and now this. He didn’t want to think things were through at home as well, and thought of the humiliation years down the road when people would ask, “What ever happened to that guy in that band? He used to be so cool.”

He continued to say, “I mean, maybe these problems are just temporary, you know? A result of what’s happened to us this week. Maybe we should just try to turn down the volume and step away from each other, before we start thinking about permanent solutions.”

“I think that’s an excellent suggestion, Sheila,” Ken said.

Sheila got up to walk Ken to the door. “Thank you for coming over, Ken. I’ll let you know what we decide.”

Ken got into his car and drove away. Sheila walked into the living room to sit with Charlie again. He was lost in thought, and she sprawled out on her side of the long couch, to think about things herself.

Finally, she said “Charlie – I think we need to spend some time separated, like you said. To figure things out, see if it’s just a bad time right now.”

He stayed to listen to this, then got up from his seat and left to go back to the sanctuary of his room. In the morning, she would have packed her things up, found a new place to live for their separation, and left him a note with instructions on how life should go on without him.