One Day At A Time - Volume 3

 

One Day At A Time is an epic that follows our main character. 

"An over-glorified groupie" magazines called her. She believed in following her heart and it always belonged to the road. She followed anyone she believed would help her to live fast, die young, and leave a beautifully wrecked corpse. 

Feelings are a funny thing though, because you can never run from what's inside you. No matter how many miles you put between yourself and the past, you carry a piece wherever you go. It's not about hiding it or fighting it. It's learning to harness that chaos. The answer is to create something.

Chapter 1

Audition

“This is an exhausting process.” Crystal moans, dropping her head against the table. I nod, looking around the empty board room. We've borrowed an empty room at the label headquarters. Christine set everything up for us, including most of the auditions themselves. We've got a fold out table in front of us, with a clipboard on it. On the clipboard is one of Christine's well-managed lists. I lean back in the chair, putting my feet up on the table. We've been here for three hours today. We've been holding auditions for two weeks. It's not as easy as you would think to hire a lead singer. Everyone believes they can sing. They are talented. They are worthy. Everyone wants to be in a band and they are willing to do whatever it takes. But most of them are just convincing themselves of their worth. We had an overwhelming response to the advertisement Christine put out. The label held an open call last weekend. There were over 50 people, but none of them were any good. Unfortunately, we have grown accustom to a certain standard. We knew it was going to be hard to find someone as good as him. In fact, we expected it would be damn near impossible. It's not enough for raw talent, they have to be a good fit with the rest of us. We don't need another falling out because our singer thinks he's better than everyone else. We want someone we get along with.

We weren't going to continue with the band. There was too much drama and not enough ambition. New York was a whole new world of opportunities for all of us. We were all happy to leave music behind, like a bad memory. Crystal was doing her own thing. She had started a career in the fashion industry, marketing those outfits she always created. Her persona became a billboard. Her beautiful face graced the cover of many magazines. Everyone wanted a piece of her, just like I always knew they would. She was doing interviews about her book, which flew off the shelf, like I knew they would. Charlie even had trouble keeping up with the demand. He wrote a new book, about life on the road. It seemed to be doing well, even gaining a spot on the New York's Best Sellers list. Jared started working as a production assistant, helping local bands build a better sound. But, the band was something we were all passionate about. Something that held our attention. It was good, minus the glaring error we made by joining someone else’s concept. The rest of us had an amazing chemistry. It seemed like a shame to lose it over one person who didn't know how good he actually had it. When Jared showed an interest in getting back into music, I called Christine. She had the contracts drawn up overnight. It turned out the label was still interested in us, even though it had been almost two months.

The last I heard, he had convinced James to forgive him. James joined his band as the drummer and he hired session musicians to replace the rest of us. It was as though we never mattered to him. I haven't spoken to him. I haven't seen him. I've paid no attention to any of the media surrounding him. But, we share a label now. So I hear the occasional thing, even if Christine does her best to keep his name quiet when we're around. He's a big seller to the label. The album we wrote during the tour is coming out in two months. The hype has already started. Although I avoid the media, I can't avoid the poster in the lobby. But Christine knows. She only calls us into the office when she's sure Frankie won't be around.

Jared is comfortable remaining the singer if we can't find someone suiting. Him and Crystal sound amazing together, creating a perfect blend of high and low vocals. But, Jared will be happy if we can find a suiting vocalist to take his place. It's not his preference. Crystal and I don't want to push him past his limits. I know he's committed to this band. That's good enough. He doesn't have to over extend himself. When we're finished recording, the tour is going to start. I don't want him getting nervous about being center stage. He's happiest off to the side, being a part of the magic, but not the focus itself. So, we're trying to find someone else to be the focus.

“No one said it was going to be an easy process.” I remind her, looking over. She slowly pulls her head off the table and stares at me, a pout perched on her lips.

“How many more singers are we going to see today?” She asks, emphasizing her displeasure towards these people who believe they are something they aren't. I pick up the list, quickly looking it over.

“We've got two more. But, Christine made a note here that one of them might not make it.” I answer, handing the clipboard to her. She nods, throwing the clipboard on the table. She fakes a smile and I can tell her enthusiasm is wearing thin. Crystal looks up as the door opens in front of us. Her smile turns genuine when Charlie walks in with a suitcase. She jumps up, almost knocking the table over.

“Hey you!” She greets, running towards him. He puts his suitcase down and grabs her in his arms. He's still living in Illinois, but he comes to New York every weekend to see Crystal. He's not ready to leave his home, but he's not willing to lose her, either. He puts in the effort he needs to. That's more than I can say about some people, who let everything fall apart.

“Can I take off pretty soon?” Crystal asks, looking over at me. I look at the list on the table, then at the gold watch decorating my wrist. One of two auditions is already twenty minutes late. The other, is the one Christine said might not show up. I sigh, looking around the room.

“Yeah. Let's call it a day. I promise Reggie I'd DJ tonight.” I agree, standing up. When we got back to Illinois, there was a message on the answering machine, from Reggie. He told me he was moving his business to the Big Apple. Then he said if I was ever in town, I had a job with him. His new establishment is a nightclub, so there's a different atmosphere from what he's used to. It had only been open a month when I got here. It was pretty dead, similar to his bar in Illinois. But, he thought having me around would liven business, the same way it had before. I agreed, figuring it was something to do with my time. He doesn't have a proper booth, but he has a stereo system hooked up to a computer. I basically just choose which songs are playing, occasionally taking requests. He is looking to invest in a real mixing board once he's confident enough in the business. It has definitely picked up since I got here. I was an attraction, bringing in customers. Crystal is the DJ every second Saturday. Even Jared comes in on occasion, though it's not exactly his cup of tea. He does it for the same reason I do, to support a friend. I don't take a wage from Reggie, either. I volunteer my time and take half of the money he makes on covers. When I'm not pretending to be a DJ, I'm a bartender, Tuesday-Thursday. The atmosphere is where I find myself most comfortable and I love the new electronic music. I suggested that we make the switch with the band too, creating a marketable product and staying on trend. But, we can't pick a direction for the sound until we find our vocalist. Crystal walks over to where I'm standing, picking up her purse. I take the clipboard off the table, but I don't disassemble anything. There's a microphone in the middle of the room. I take it off the stand and put it in a case, shoving the case under the table. I don't want the equipment getting damaged, but I also don't want to do any more work than I have to. Christine will send someone in later to clean up. I look around the room, making sure everything is ready. I follow Crystal to the front door, turning off the lights. We head into the hallway, closing the door behind ourselves. In the hall, our eyes find a frantic looking kid.

“Wait.” He calls, running down the hallway.

“Sorry, we're not taking any more auditions today. Try again next week.” I dismiss, not caring to take the kid in.

“I'm sorry I didn't get here earlier. I did say I was going to be late though.” He fumbles. I nod, finally making eye contact.

“You're Blake then?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. He nods, holding his hand out towards me. I shake his hand, looking over at Crystal and Charlie. She sighs.

“I'm glad you came out Blake, but we're retiring for the day. Plus, all of our equipment is packed up.” I explain, motioning behind us at the darkened board room. He shakes his head.

“I don't need any equipment.” He assures confidently. I raise my eyebrow. Most of our auditions have been shy and timid people. They were hesitant, didn't make eye contact and had shaky voices. Even when there was room for improvement, they all lacked confidence. I shrugged it off to being because we're well-known by now. We're responsible for destroying Frankie's band, as far as the media is concerned. We're also known for being hard-headed, since we seem to be turning down so many vocalists. But Blake seems to be comfortable around us already, like we're just normal people and he's not trying to impress us. Crystal seems intrigued as well, motioning towards the room. I turn around, flicking back on the light switch. Blake follows us into the room, looking around. We don't head towards the table. Crystal and I stay near the entrance. The hallway lights are dimmed, trying to create a relaxing atmosphere. But in the boardroom, the lights are bright and keep you alert. There is nothing relaxing about being in one of these rooms. I take in his appearance, now that we're in the brightly lit room. He's wearing a red and black striped beanie, with the hair sticking out everywhere. He's got soft-looking black hair, down to his shoulders. It's a vintage style, if nothing else. He's got a blushed color on his cheeks, likely because he ran here. He's wearing a scarf that matches the hat, but it's only September 2^nd. It's not cold enough to need winter accessories yet. He's wearing it as a decoration and nothing more. He's got on a black long-sleeved shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's wearing black dress pants and scuffed up running shoes. His fashion sense reminds me of Samuel. I laugh, thinking about how out of place this kid would be in the scene.

“Show us what you've got.” Crystal directs, motioning around the room. Blake nods, then breaks into song. He doesn't pause to warm up his vocal chords. He doesn't ask what we want to hear. He just sings, like his life might depend on it. I smile, looking over at Crystal. Her eyes are wide, watching Blake. He's singing a song I'd rather not recognize. It's one of the most commonly played songs on the radio right now. It's demonstrating a range that only some people could ever even hope to have. It's a good song, about breaking free of our predetermined paths and making our own futures. It's just the musician I have a problem with. I'd never argue how talented he was. I knew first hand, singing with him. Blake seems to have the same vocal range. He's hitting every single note, even the ones that were too high for Frankie. When Blake is finished singing, Charlie steps forward and holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the band, Blake.” He announces. I look over at Crystal, who just shrugs. But, there's a huge smile on her face, and I guess she agrees with Charlie's decision. I nod.

“Welcome to the band.” I repeat.

Chapter 2

Two Months Ago

“I don't know what to do about him anymore. I want to be supportive, see him through this mourning period. But, how much am I supposed to be willing to put up with? It's been almost two months. I thought New York was going to be a fresh start. For everyone. Everything.” I whine, looking across the table. We moved to New York the first week of June, two weeks after the end of the tour. Jesse had bought an amazing condo already, so it was already waiting for us to move in. It had four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a second level, with it's own kitchenette. I couldn't have picked a better place myself. I was in love when I saw it, so was Crystal. It didn't take much convincing to relocate. Jesse shakes his head, picking at the cinnamon roll in front of him.

“I don't know. He's mourning the loss of something he never even had, by the sounds of it.” He sighs. I lean back against the cafe chair, picking my coffee off the table.

“I know, and I think he knows that too. But, he's getting worse.” I add. Jesse raises his eyebrow.

“How?” He asks, though his mouth is full. I sigh.

“For one, he had two different people over last night. A guy and a girl. I think they were a couple. I don't know. He's welcome to have his kinks, I'm not judging. But, he acts like,” I pause. Right now, I'm glad Jesse chose a four bedroom.

“It's not completely out of character.” I finish, biting my lip.

“And, I guess, it's not. It's right up his alley, the way he used to be. But, he had made so much progress. He had changed. Or, I thought he had. I thought he'd want more for himself than this kind of debauchery.” I finish. Jesse nods.

“Is that the problem? Or are you just upset that things didn't work out?” He asks. I sigh. I don't know if Jared wanted to move to New York, but he didn't have a choice. I had my doubts about the accuracy of what Crystal said, but she was right. Jared had sold his place in Los Angeles. His friend Daniel packed up all of his personal belongings and brought them to his own loft. Everything else was left behind. Jared was prepared to move to Illinois, with Frankie. When Frankie bailed, he had no where else to go. So, he moved to New York with us. But, he wasn't himself. He was bad on tour, but coming off, it got worse. He doesn't even try to talk to us anymore.

“Of course I'm upset. I thought we had reached a place of understanding. I was giving him space, I was showing him patience. I was doing everything I thought would help him through this. We didn't even talk about it before he just started bringing people home. I thought we had made progress too, that we had grown as a couple, we had changed. But, I guess people don't really change. Samuel was right. He did say this would happen.” I attempt to joke.

“No. If you recall, Samuel finally gave him a seal of approval.” Jesse reminds me. I roll my eyes. I introduced them while we were in town, before heading back to Illinois. Samuel had never met Jared, only knowing the rotten details I chose to share with him. But, seeing him in person seemed to strike a chord. Samuel seemed to see something different. He pulled me aside afterward and told me he was happy I had ignored him. That, if I had listened, I might have missed my window for happiness.

“Some seal.” I mumble. Jesse is quiet, finishing off his pastry.

“Crystal is beside herself too, though. She doesn't want random strangers in the house.” I add. He laughs.

“She's just being paranoid. I've heard her rants. She thinks everyone is out to get something, preying on Jared because he's weak right now.” Jesse dismisses. I shake my head.

“It's more than that, Jesse. It's been two months. How much longer will this go on for?” I argue. He shrugs, leaning forward.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks, now crossing his arms. I sigh, slightly pouting.

“I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I just don't have anyone else to talk to.” I confess. He nods.

“I know. Crystal's too emotional right now. Everything sets her off and then she's half-way down a bottle. She misses Charlie, I think.” He observes. I nod, slowly. Charlie stayed behind when we moved. He said he had too many roots in Illinois. Ideally, he planned to join us eventually. But, he seemed to be pushing his arrival date back every time we spoke. Crystal was starting to worry he wasn't coming.

“I know she does.” I agree. We're both quiet for a while. I stare out the window, watching people walk past the glass that separates us from the rest of the world. I've been here a lot lately. Sometimes with Jesse, but mostly by myself. It beats being home, with them.

“Maybe he just needs a distraction.” Jesse offers, pulling me from my thoughts. I raise my eyebrow.

“A distraction?” I repeat. He nods.

“You know the production company that Gibson runs?” He asks. I nod. Gibson was an old friend of mine from my early Illinois days. He had moved to New York a long time ago. He wanted to open a rocking nightclub. It was his dream. But, he ended up becoming a manager at a record label. After a few years, he quit, starting his own production company. When Reggie got to New York in June, they combined their money and Gibson got his nightclub. He kept his record company, too.

“They got three new indie bands. Nothing big, not yet. But, they need extra hands. Gibson asked me, but, I've been busy.” He jokes, motioning back and fourth between us. I fake a smile.

“Yeah, I occupy so much of your time.” I reply sarcastically.

“You actually do. But, it’s not like I mind.” He assures, smiling widely. I shake my head, laughing.

“Anyways, what I'm saying is we could see if Jared wants to get into the production side. It might be just what he needs. A better distraction, because, let's face it, that's all these random conquests are. I mean, you know that, right?” He asks, now sounding sympathetic. I laugh, shaking my head.

“It doesn't matter what they are. The moaning at all hours keeps us up all night and disrupts our days.” I argue. Jesse shrugs.

“You wouldn't mind so much if there was more moaning of your own.” He hints, trying to be coy. I sigh.

“At least Crystal isn't alone on the weekends. I wish she could see Charlie more often though.” I add. He nods absentmindedly, motioning the waiter over to our table.

“A refill, please.” He asks, motioning to both our cups. The waiter nods, disappearing behind the counter. He comes back shortly, bringing Jesse another pastry. The staff at this cafe know us by now.

“Bring him in tomorrow afternoon. We'll introduce him to Gibson.” He announces. I nod, letting out a deep exhale.

“I don't know if it will help, but, it can't hurt, right?”

Chapter 3

The New Guy

“To the latest addition in our wonderful little group.” Crystal cheers, holding up her champagne glass. Everyone at the table follows her lead, toasting to Blake. His audition was at four, but it's now approaching seven. Even though we were exhausted and wanted to go home, we decided to treat Blake to dinner. We headed to a cute restaurant down the street to celebrate. Charlie thought it would be a good way to get to know him, and brief him on the schedule. It's hard to work around Charlie living in Illinois, so his days in the studio are Saturday and Sunday. Jared is still working with Gibson, so he has a tight schedule to work around as well. Crystal makes her own schedules, so she does whatever she wants whenever she has the time. As the manager, alongside Jesse and Gibson, I keep the schedule as organized as possible. Gibson is looking after the production, whether it's renting studio time or practice spaces. When the album is ready, Jared will co-produce the sound with Gibson, so we can turn the finished product over to Christine. She, of course, manages public relations. This is also Jesse's area of expertise. He'll book the venues and hotels and make arrangements for traveling when it comes to touring. Christine will book radio shows and appearances and photo shoots and anything else promotional. It's my job to make sure all of the above is working together and that the band is where they are supposed to be. I was always best suited to the clerical side, after all. Tonight, Charlie is the only one remaining sober. He finally got his license renewed, so he is the designated driver. I told him it was ridiculous because no one in New York has a car. But, it turns out Blake does. He must live in one of the only apartment buildings in New York with parking. Ours has it too, but, none of us own a car. After the round of applause, I put my now-empty glass beside Crystal's. Jared has his mostly full glass in one of his hands, the other is on my lower back. He's been quiet since he joined us an hour ago. I know he's just tired, spending most of his time at the studio with Gibson. Jared just discovered a new band and Gibson is eager to get them into a contract. Jared always had a good ear for talent, so he knows a good investment when he hears it. Gibson does whatever Jared tells him to do these days.

We're squished into the wall side of the booth we're in. Jared is leaning against the wall, with Charlie sitting across from him. I'm to the other side of him, with Crystal sitting across from me. Blake is sitting on the other side of me, still sipping his champagne. Over the two hours we've been here, our table has been joined by a handful of people. Most of them were unimportant, fans of the old music. Some of them were movers and shakers, looking to make connections. Gibson made a brief appearance on his way to the club. He has a date tonight, so he wanted to go home and get ready. Reggie came in for a while, before darting off to the club. He wanted to meet Blake, size him up. He told me he thinks Blake is a good kid. A good fit too. Everyone has been calling Blake a kid, but he's a few years older than me. I can tell by the way he carries himself. He's got life experience, and it's easy to tell when you start talking to him. He looks really young. There's not a bit of age in his face. But, his personality is refined. Pair that with his confidence and maybe that's why he was so easy to pick. He'll handle himself like a grown up, not a kid in a candy store. We don't need one of those. Running around, getting into trouble. Blake is going to be the front man. He's welcome to get into a little bit of trouble. As long as he remembers his place, there should be no problems.

“I think you chose well.” I offer, looking in Charlie's direction. He smiles brightly, looking over towards Blake.

“So do I.” He agrees. Blake seems more shy, now that all the attention is on him. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Relax.” I suggest, leaning against the booth. He nods.

“I am, it's just. There were so many people. I can't remember anyone. I have names or faces. Never both.” He observes. I nod. Crystal introduced him to at least 15 of her friends. All influential members of the fashion community. She built her reputation here in no time.

“Only Gibson and Reggie are important.” I assure him. He nods, putting his hands on the table.

“Gibson works with Jared.” Blake recalls. I nod.

“Reggie is the owner, right?” He asks, looking over. I nod.

“He's also the gentleman paying the bill, even though he's no longer with us.” I add, laughing. Reggie insisted as his own way of welcoming Blake. Charlie joins the laughter.

“That's really trusting of him. Doesn't he know how high you can rack up a bill?” He jokes, looking in my direction. I shrug, looking around the table. We've been through two bottles of champagne and a round of cocktails. Half of which were consumed by Crystal.

“Yeah, but he knows I'm working tonight. So I can't drink too much. At least, I can't show up drunk. Once there though, that's a whole other situation. Oh, but he's paying that bill too.” I joke. Charlie nods, raising his glass of water. Jared taps my shoulder, motioning to the exit. I nod, pushing Blake's shoulder.

“Blake, scoot.” I demand. He's taken off the long-sleeved shirt since we got here. He's down to a plain black t-shirt that looks faded and worn. But, comfortable. His right arm is covered in tattoos, but he doesn't have them anywhere else. He's got just the right amount of edge. Crystal is covered, with almost no skin left bare. Charlie is also covered, though his tattoos are black, and Crystal is a rainbow. Jared and I have a few tattoos, but they are mostly small and scattered. Blake is a perfect balance between the four of us. I'm thinking it would be fun to have Crystal and Charlie on his right, while me and Jared stand to his left. Let's see how long it takes people to figure out the design. Blake moves out of the booth we're sitting in and I slide across myself. Jared gets up, lifting his pack of smokes towards everyone at the table. Crystal shakes her head, pouring herself another glass of champagne. For the most part, she's quit smoking. I guess her larger stress has gone away. Charlie doesn't smoke, so he doesn't bother answering. Then, Jared looks over at Blake.

“Do you smoke?” He asks, holding out his pack. Blake nods.

“I don't make a habit out of it. But, on special occasions, I will.” He adds. Jared nods, motioning outside. Blake nods, standing up. He grabs his sweater, pulling it over his head.

“He is so flipping adorable.” Crystal giggles as soon as Blake is out of hearing range. I laugh.

“He definitely is. But, is he going to last?” I ask, reminding her of what's important. Charlie nods, leaning forward.

“I think he's got what it takes to fit in, don't you?” He counters, looking at me. I shrug, lightly shaking my head.

“I think it's too early to really know.” I dismiss. Charlie looks over his shoulder at the door.

“Really?” He asks, now smirking. I look outside, where Jared and Blake are standing. Blake has got a huge smile on his face and Jared is actually laughing. It's the first time Jared has seemed happy since the split. I can't even hide my shock, which makes Charlie laugh.

“Alright. You got me there.” I confess, shaking my head. Charlie picks up his water and holds it up.

“To new beginnings.” He offers. I look at Crystal and she smiles, picking up her champagne glass. I shake my head, refilling my glass.

“To the new guy.”

Chapter 4

A Night Like This

I told Blake that he didn't have to come along, but he wanted to check out Reggie's nightclub. He had never been, since he doesn't go out much. He confessed on the ride over that he doesn't have much of a social life, because he's a little awkward around new people. He also works too much to try and work on it. I figured the lifestyle would open up his communication skills a bit. He'd get to meet new people all the time. After all, in one day he met more people than he would have in a month. Jared was heading home, but decided to come along because of Blake. They were having a conversation and I suppose Jared wanted to continue it. When we got to Reggie's, we headed to the private lounge upstairs. Reggie learned the value of exclusive company. He had the upper level of the club blocked off to only important people. This made it easier for us to enjoy ourselves when we were here. There's even a portable bar upstairs, offering the basics. We're not the only ones who come up here, of course. All of Reggie's friends have access. So does anyone else who has made a name for themselves. But tonight, it's just the three of us in the lounge. Reggie's computer is set up in a small room that over looks the dance floor, which is where I am. Blake and Jared are sitting together at a booth behind me. I'm far enough away that I can't hear their conversation, but I can see they are enjoying themselves. I'm glad Jared came out. He usually sits at home alone on Fridays. He'd claim he's too tired to go out, but I think he's having issues facing the outside world. It's not as easy for him to ignore, the way it is for the rest of us. The billboards, the radio play. Everywhere we turn, there he is as a constant reminder.

At least Jared's talking to me again. It's not the same as it was on tour. We're not in sync anymore. We're hardly familiar. But, he's making an attempt. I'm hoping that means he's coming out of his spiral into himself. Jesse was right about the distraction. He's even mentioned Frankie. He asked me how I was handling the situation. He wanted to know how I could be taking it so well, or if I was just bottling up my feelings. Considering everything I lost, both professionally and on a personal level. I assured him I was fine, that I bounce back easily. It was a lie, but I don't really need him worrying about me. I'm not taking it as well as everyone believes I am, but I need to keep them believing the illusion. I have to hold everything together until it starts to stick on its' own. I have my priorities straight, and that's all there is to it.

Crystal's emotional imbalance wasn't just because she missed Charlie. She had been on the worse side of the bottle for two weeks straight after the split. I thought she was letting loose, and I was giving her that space. But Charlie said it was becoming a problem. It was unlike her to be so careless. She's care-free, but not careless. He told me we should do something for her, get her help. He suggested a rehab program. I couldn't imagine how Crystal would have handled that announcement. I had the conversation in my head “Crystal, we're signing you into rehab, you have a problem”. Her response would have been to throw a bottle at my head and disappear off the radar. She was on self-destruct. I didn't think rehab was the best option we could provide her. I just wanted her to come to terms with everything. She lost her best friend and her mentor. You don't heal from that over night. She looked up to him, had given her entire life to him. She expected he was leading her to greater things, that she could accomplish anything if she was with him. Then he just, turned around. He dismissed her like it was nothing. He dismissed us all. But her and Jared took it the worst. Frankie didn't even try to talk to anyone about what happened. He wiped his hands clean of all of us. I'd like to think he just knew there was no point. I'd like to think he wanted to reach out, try to fix things. I'd like to think he wanted to give the situation space and approach it when the dust had settled. But I didn't believe any of the above. I tried not to notice where the chips fell, but I did. It wasn't in our favor.

I would have ignored the drinking. I would have let her binge, even though Charlie was against it. But, I couldn't ignore the rage. She'd wake up in fits, punching the air. She'd come home in the middle of the night, swearing and yelling at nothing. She was haunted and disturbed. She needed help, but a different kind. She needed a release. It was fairly easy, when we finally sat her down. Charlie told her about his concerns. I told her she was becoming Jared and I couldn't go through that. I couldn't lose them both. I made my choice. I chose Crystal. I put my focus on her, helping her get better. I made her take an anger management course. I made her join kick-boxing. I put her in situations that would channel her aggression. Charlie wasn't sure about any of those choices. He thought it would make her worse. But, Crystal was never an angry person. It wasn't anger she was experiencing. She was sad. She just didn't know how to deal with it.

I shut out my own feelings. I had to. Of course I shared some of their feelings, the betrayal and anger. The dismissal. I had been cheated into believing in a future, only to have that future cheated by a cheater. But, I'm not a selfish human being. I wouldn't put my own grieving over that of the people I care about. I had to help them first, and help myself later.

It was actually the anger management course that opened Crystal's eyes to the opportunities around her. I don't believe she learned anything. Anger management is pointless if you're not actually angry. But, she met someone very influential. One of the other people in the course was a fashion designer. Her name was Marie. The people she worked with didn't enjoy her temper, but Crystal found her fascinating. They got to talking about how the course was a waste of time. Crystal's designs came up in the conversation. The following week, both had dropped out of the course and Crystal was working as her assistant. Her job involved coming up with designs and dealing with the staff. Crystal was more pleasant and she didn't yell or scream that the employees were wastes of space. She was well-received and it was just the boost her self-esteem needed. Her drinking slowed right away, since she was busy all the time. She was working with Marie, designing a new fashion line for fall. There wasn't much time, but Crystal assured Marie the staff could do it.

Music was just something we all fell back into, mostly because Jared was working in the studio. Then, Crystal started writing again, once her head was clear. When I called Christine, she told me the label still had a contract with our names on it. But the icing on the cake was the album. The concept we had put together while on the road was sitting at the office. Frankie had recorded the whole thing by himself, using the occasional session musician. The album was finished, hitting stores in November. But, if we agreed to sign to that particular label, Christine said we could fight for the rights. After all, most of the composition was done by Jared. The lyrics were largely written by Crystal. The vocals were Crystal and Frankie, not just Frankie. Sure, he could replace her with any vocalist in the industry. But, as content creators, we had the right to fight. I was going to ignore that part of the deal, but then I spoke to Gibson. He suggested it, offering himself as a manager. I called Christine back and told her we'd take the deal. We'd go for the album. But, I was keeping Gibson and Jesse as my management.

I haven't told any of them about the album yet. They signed off on the record deal. They agreed to have Gibson and Jesse representing us. They know we will get royalties for Frankie's album, because we are the artists behind the creation of it. But, none of them know those other details. I didn't want to get any hopes up, until I knew for sure. Monday morning, I have a meeting with Gibson to discuss the legalities. I've also got to go over the ideal schedule and give him deadlines. Him and Jesse both know the information is to be kept between management.

Frankie tried to contact me. He sent a message through the management team. I sent my reply through Christine, saying I'd call him when I knew what to say. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to face him though. I have to face the situation, on a daily basis. His songs play on the radio, announcing the album we worked on. Remixes are requested at work, so I have to play them and bite my tongue. No one knows why we broke up, either. It's been left a mystery. If Frankie held a conference regarding it, I haven't been told. Although, I wouldn't be told. Christine wants us to move tranquilly into the future. She doesn't want us thinking about the past. She personally resigned from Frankie's team. No one argued her. They put another manager in charge of him. But, that manager went through Christine to invite us all to the album release party.

I kept the tickets, shoving them in my nightstand. I don't want to tell them about that either. Everyone is still getting on their own two feet. I don't want them to feel overwhelmed. None of them are ready to face him, but neither am I. I do what I can to keep my mind off everything, theirs as well. I need Crystal to focus on improving herself. I need Jared to remember who he is. He was the one thing I thought I would gain from the entire disaster. I sigh out loud, looking over to where he's sitting. Reggie has decided to join him and Blake. He's with his newest girlfriend, Jennifer. They've been together for three weeks. Reggie says he's in love, but I think Jennifer is only interested in what Reggie can offer. Whether it's money or connections. He's got them both, in spades. But, he's got to learn when people are taking advantage of him. She's gorgeous, with long brown hair the flows past her thin waist. She's got wide hips, that are always accentuated by the tight jeans she wears. She wears low-cut tops, to show off the cleavage she amplifies with a push-up bra. She's a little too good-looking for him, but, I want to believe there are genuine people in the world. I watch Reggie introduce her to Blake. She screeches about how adorable he is, saying she has a single girlfriend who would eat him up. I laugh to myself, shaking my head. Jennifer runs off, presumably to find this girlfriend. Meanwhile, Gibson comes up to the table, sitting down beside Jared. Reggie takes a seat beside Blake. I'm sure Jared is talking business, even though he spent all day at the studio with Gibson. He takes his work seriously. It's all he does these days. But, it's better to devote every second to work than to misery. It's a distraction, but a welcomed one. Unlike his uncountable list of conquests.

Jennifer comes back to the table a few minutes later and I focus my attention on the interaction. She's got a blonde girl with her, who is stumbling over her own two feet. The blonde wastes no time introducing herself to Blake. She even climbs over Reggie and drops herself down in Blake's lap. He's laughing, but I can tell it's a nervous laughter. He's tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear and looking around. Jared is shifting too. I queue a few songs and head over to the table. I tap Gibson on the shoulder and motion away. He stands up and follows me away from the table.

“I think Blake is uncomfortable with that girl all over him.” I observe. He looks at the table and nods.

“Yeah. I think Sarah has had too much to drink. She's not usually like this.” Gibson defends. I shrug.

“Can you, like, take her off his hands?” I hint, starting to laugh. Sarah now has one of her arms around Blake's neck. He's gone a shade of red I didn't know was possible. Gibson nods.

“I am always happy to take one for the team.” He assures, smirking. I stay back, watching him work his magic. He motions to Reggie, who slides out of the booth. Reggie starts yelling about dancing and Jennifer follows him to the dance floor. Gibson slides into the booth beside Blake and swiftly pulls Sarah onto his lap. He whispers something in her ear and her eyes light up. She smiles, looking around the table. Then, she's jumping up and pulling Gibson's hand. He smiles in my direction as they head out of the lounge. I laugh, shaking my head. I walk back to the table. Blake seems relieved.

“That was awkward.” I observe. He nods, looking over.

“Thank you. I mean, for getting rid of her.” He laughs, making eye contact. I nod, leaning against the side of the booth that Jared is sitting on. He looks up, then back at his beer bottle.

“I don't need drunken girls making my lead singer feel uncomfortable. You're not even a star yet. They could at least wait.” I joke, trying to ease some of the tension. He nods.

“It gets worse right?” He asks under his breath. I nod slowly.

“Definitely.” Jared agrees, picking up the bottle. I laugh..

“They won't always be drunk. Or, so willing. You'll get sober ones. Ones who are actually interesting and worth giving a shot. There are decent girls out there.” I offer. Blake laughs, looking at the table.

“What?” I ask, realizing I've crossed a line.

“Nothing.” He dismisses, shaking his head. I slide down into the booth beside Jared, letting my curiosity be known.

“Are you in a relationship? Married? Celibate?” I question. He shakes his head, looking up at me.

“I'm gay.” He corrects. I can hear Jared audibly swallow from beside me. Blake looks back down at the table.

“I never know when it's the right time to tell people. It's either too soon or too late. I make people feel uncomfortable because of it. I mean, I did say I was awkward, right?” He jokes.

“I just didn't expect it, that's all. You don't seem like the type.” Jared defends. Blake raises his eyebrow, like he's offended by the remark. I don't give him the chance to continue.

“People would say the same thing about you Jared.” I remind him. He shrugs, finishing the rest of his beer. He puts the bottle down on the table and Blake looks shocked.

“You're gay?” He asks, a crack in his voice. Jared shrugs again.

“Mostly.” He answers elusively, which makes me laugh. I put my hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing,

“He's still coming to terms with it.” I offer as an explanation. Blake nods, satisfied with the answer. Me and Jared haven't talked about his sexuality, but it became apparent. Near the end of what could only be described as binge sex, he was only with men. Something shifted in his taste. I thought he was just going for men because he missed Frankie. But as a group, we realized there was more to it. Charlie was the first to suggest that maybe Jared's inability to commit was because he wasn't interested in women. From there, it was just assumed. We didn't talk about it. We didn't need to. None of us were going to judge Jared for his sexuality. It actually put most of our history into perspective. In the background of my thoughts, I can hear the song coming to an end. It's the last song I had queued.

“I've got to get back to my booth.” I apologize, sliding back out of the booth. I head back to the room and pick the next song. I keep looking over my shoulder at the table. Now that everyone else is gone, they seem to have resumed their conversation. They are both laughing, and genuinely enjoying each other. If I didn't know Blake was gay, I might think he didn't like me. Now that I know, I can see this interaction as something else. He likes Jared. By the way Jared is relaxing into the conversation, I can see it's mutual. I smile, looking back at the list in front of me.

Maybe Charlie was right. It truly is a new beginning.

Chapter 5

Somewhere Else

I yawn, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as I stroll down the hallway. The hallway is short, with only three doors off it. Crystal's bedroom is on the right, sharing a wall with the kitchen. Mine is on the left, sharing the living room wall. Although, the walls are virtually sound proof. I was grateful for that with Jared's stream of questionable visitors. The other door, in the middle of the hallway, is the bathroom. It's only used by Crystal and I, so the door is hardly ever locked. I'll shower when Crystal is soaking in the tub, neither of us care. She likes to soak in the water whenever she's feeling stressed. She often does it on Sunday nights, with a glass of wine and portable speakers for her MP3 player. The tub is an old-fashioned claw foot, but it's buried underneath the platform built around it. On the ledge, there are candles and bath bombs and a bunch of other stuff that Crystal uses during her bath. The bathtub is in the middle of the room, directly across from the door. To the left is the standing shower, which is what I use. The sink is directly in front of the shower, on the wall that lines my bedroom. The toilet is in the far corner, on the right side of the bathtub. Across from it, on the wall lining Crystal's room, is a large shelf. It's something we bought to hold toiletries, because there's no hall closet. We didn't want to have to use the closet in the living room either. I look around, letting my eyes roam the empty living room. There are still boxes, some untouched and some half-empty. We have been gradually settling in, but there's a lot of stuff that never needed to come along. We're still trying to decide what to do with any of it. But, there are other priorities at hand. There are three doors off the living room. One is the small closet, which is mostly unused at the moment. Then, there's a second bathroom, which is the one Jared and Charlie use. It only has a shower, a toilet and a sink. But, that's fairly fancy for a second bathroom. The last door is Jared's bedroom, which is directly beside the staircase. His door is open, which means he has already left for the studio. I'm not shocked, because he spends every minute there. The upstairs level hasn't been touched since we moved in. I don't know why we have it, but it was a suggestion Jesse made, so I went for it. Crystal is sitting at the island in the kitchen with a coffee cup in her hand. I nod in her direction as I walk past her, helping myself to the last coffee that's on. Then I pull out one of the stools and take a seat across from her. She smiles brightly, and I return the greeting.

“Charlie gone?” I ask, looking around. She nods, motioning at the mirrored clock on the kitchen wall.

“Flight leaves in half an hour.” She answers, seeming lost in contemplation. I don't force the conversation.

“So, you have a meeting with Gibson tomorrow, right?” She asks, looking back at me. I nod slowly.

“Yeah. We need to put together a press conference, announcing the addition of Blake.” I note. She nods. The island we're sitting at is small. It's suitable for four people, but anything more is excessive. Right now, it's just the three of us. But only Crystal and me eat together. It's usually something quick and thrown together, or picked up from a restaurant down the street. The owner likes to make us home-cooked meals, like seasoned chicken breasts and pasta. We bring it home, microwave it, and eat. She picks it up on her way home from the office and I eat before heading out to Reggie's. We leave Jared's portion in the microwave and he eats whenever he's home. It's not the ideal arrangement, but it's working at the moment. We're all too busy living normal lives. As it turns out, living normal is a lot like living on tour. You're always too busy to eat proper food. You're too busy to think straight. Only working and sleeping seem to make the agenda and sleep is optional. Our kitchen is big though. We have a stove, a fridge, and even a dishwasher. Appliances are unheard of in a New York apartment, but Jesse made sure we got the best, even if we hardly use any of it.

“Speaking of.” She starts, drawing my attention back to her.

“What?” I raise my eyebrow.

“I have that television appearance next week. I was wondering what I should or shouldn't say about the band, the album. I could hype it all up, make a buzz. Or say nothing when they ask. I don't want to cross a line I'm not aware of.” She answers. I bite the side of my lip.

“Do you think they're going to ask?” I wonder. She nods.

“Yeah. A few people have caught wind that we're putting something together. I try to keep it under wraps, but, sometimes, things just slip.” She trails, looking around. I nod.

“Well, no one is expecting you to keep it private, I'm sure.” I offer. She hums to herself.

“I think it's safe to talk about the actual project. Like, you can tell them that we are in fact moving forward musically. But, if they ask about the direction, you're not at liberty to say. You know?” I explain loosely. She nods, but doesn't seem convinced. I shake my head.

“I don't know. I'll ask them what's safe tomorrow.” I volunteer. She nods, finishing off her coffee.

“Let me know when you do.” She hums, heading into the living room. I follow her with my eyes, but don't bother moving. She turns the television on and drops down on the love seat. Then she puts her feet up on the coffee table and stretches herself out. It's a plain coffee table, but most of the furniture is fairly basic. It was furnished when we moved in. There's a couch, a love seat and a chaise lounge. They are part of a set, colored a chocolate brown. The cushions are a material that feels like velvet, while the rest is a brown imitation leather. The coffee table is the same length as the couch. It's made of a solid wood, so it is strong enough to hold her weight. Although, almost any coffee table would be strong enough to hold her weight. She hardly weighs a thing after all. I laugh, shaking my head. I pick up my coffee cup and head back down the hall towards my bedroom. I try not to bring edibles into my room, because I tend to forget to bring them back out. I don't want to start a new bacterial culture on dishes. But when I sit on the balcony, I take my coffee out with me. It's small, fitting a fold out lawn chair and a small table. I'm the only one with a balcony in my bedroom. We don't even have one in the living room. No one else seemed to care about the view.

I just wanted to look at the New York skyline. It's one of my favorite sights. It's soothing to me, because it reminds me just how small we all are. It takes some of the pressure off feeling like I need to do or be something. I remember living in New York with Hunter. We lived in a high-rise, even though we were both terrified of heights. We had a balcony there too, though we rarely went out on it. One night, we were standing there, overlooking the skyline. I asked him if he had ever seen something so beautiful. When I looked over at him, there was this crooked smile on his face. He nodded, then he leaned in and kissed me. I forgot the world for a minute there. I forgot how high above the ground we were, because my heart was over the moon. But, gravity drags everything back down. It is only ever a matter of time. Of course, I've moved past that fear now. Hunter never did, but, Jared is trying to, since we're back in a high-rise. I don't think it's healthy to force change. It either happens naturally, or never will. I wish I had learned that lesson before, but, it's better late than never.

My bedroom is scarcely decorated. The balcony is directly across from the bedroom door. Between the two is a dresser with three drawers. It's about four feet wide, and covered in a black and glossy press-board. The handles span the length of the dresser and are silver. There is a smaller, two-drawer night table beside the bed that matches. The bed is to the right of the door, centered between the walls. It's a king sized mattress perched on top of a box-spring. There's no bed frame, because I've never liked them. The night table is on the left and on the right is a stack of boxes. On the same wall as the bedroom door is the closet, where most of my unpacked boxes are. The drawers are filled with my clothes. The night table has everything important in it. Lastly, my laptop sits on top of the dresser until it's being used. There is no mirror on the dresser and no other furniture in the room. I haven't gone shopping for furnishings. I'm hardly ever home, so it hardly matters to me what the room looks like. I spend my nights at Reggie's and my days anywhere else. I'm always somewhere else. Somewhere less lonely. I thought about putting my comfort curtains up around my bed, but I'm trying to stay away from the comfort zones. The empty space is a constant reminder and I need to keep things in perspective. This bedroom is bigger than any other bedroom I've had.

I wanted space, because I wanted to believe more than one person would occupy it. Instead, no one does.

I pause, heading towards the balcony. I grab my new phone off the dresser and take it with me. The air is fresh this high above ground. I can almost see the New Yorkers down on the streets below. I hear the sounds of cars honking in the streets. The occasional shouting. But it's all so distant. Everything is distant. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but mine feels like withering away.

It wasn't so long ago that I believed the world was full of endless possibilities. Everything felt new and fresh, the way the air is this afternoon. But I was wrong, and I can't bring myself to move on.

Chapter 6

Business As Usual

“Absolutely nothing.” Gibson hollers, dropping his hands down on the table. I laugh, shaking my head. He's insisted on meeting at the label, so Christine would be present for the discussion.

“Well, people know about the band. It's everywhere. Spreading like a wildfire in the middle of the forest.” Christine announces, looking up from the sheet of paper in front of her. Gibson nods.

“Yes, okay, the band itself is common knowledge. It would be too hard to try and surprise people with that. We need to create a buzz, so, we need people to know.” He agrees. I nod.

“I told her no about the details. Disregard any questions about the album or the tour, even about the members.” I recall. Gibson nods again, looking over to Jesse.

“We can't keep the members quiet. I mean, everyone is going to wonder how you're moving forward, right?” Christine asks, looking around the group. Her eyes settle on me and I shrug.

“I don't know. I guess anyone can just assume that Jared is going to be singing. He was a vocalist at some point, with his old band. It's logical.” I offer. Christine raises her eyebrow.

“Old band?” She questions. I look around the table.

“Okay, does no one know?” I question, seeing the confused expressions. There's a hum around the room, but no one seems to be answering directly. I laugh to myself.

“Jared used to go by Hunter. He was the vocalist and guitarist of a band that toured for years. He was billboard famous, with number one albums. How do you think he's so popular already?” I joke. Christine pulls out her cellphone and seems to be ignoring the conversation.

“I knew.” Jesse announces. Gibson looks over at him.

“And you didn't feel the need to tell me?” He accuses. I laugh.

“I didn't keep it from you either. You have Google. You could have looked him up. I'm surprised you didn't. He works for you and you don't know who he is?” Jesse counters.

“I know he has an amazing ear for talent. I know he's hard working and devoted. I know he's easy to get along with. What else could I need to know?” Gibson rambles.

“You didn't need to know.” Jesse argues, lifting an open hand into the air. He motions from Gibson to me. I shake my head.

“There's a serious lack of trust in this relationship.” I joke, motioning between the two. Jesse shrugs, looking over.

“He thinks he has everything figured out.” He teases.

“Oh yeah, says Mr. I Want To Be A Star But Have No Talent.” Gibson counters. Jesse's eyes go wide.

“You didn't go there.” He barks, slamming his hands on the table. I shake my head again, dropping my hands on the table.

“Well, I guess it's business as usual.” I mumble to myself. Both Jesse and Gibson are headstrong. They both believe themselves to be right, commonly ignoring other peoples' opinions. They are hard to get along with, especially together. But, they are also ruthless together. Nothing gets by them. This is why I decided they would make the perfect management team. Christine's organization skills paired with their inability to back down from an argument are exactly what you need in this industry. So I've learned.

“Jared announced his retirement in September 2012. The decision followed a reunion with his girlfriend. He expressed his desire to settle down and start a family.” Christine starts reading something from her phone. I shake my head.

“Are you on his Wikipedia page?” I ask. She nods, briefly holding her phone in my direction. She pauses for a minute, then looks up at me. There's a concerned look on her face.

“Uh, explain.” She demands, now handing me her phone. There's nothing on her screen except for a picture of Hunter and I taken at some red carpet event. I hand it back to her.

“Explain what?” I question, leaning back in my chair.

“I mean, I know you and Jared are together now, but, how long has this been going on?” She asks.

“We're not. I keep telling you that.” I correct. She sighs.

“You say you're not, but the way you look at each other says something else.” She argues, biting her lip.

“It's not casual.” She decides. I nod.

“I never said it was. But, we're not together. As for how long, who can keep track? I met him in 2006 at some show in Nevada, then we met again a few years later and started dating.” I explain.

“So it's been a thing for 11 years?” Christine asks. I nod.

“Wow. I don't think I could commit to anything for that long.” Gibson comments, laughing. I sigh.

“Look, we haven't been together that long or anything. On and off, a few years, maximum. Anyways, can we get off the subject of my past love life?” I ask, now getting irritated. Christine nods apologetically and passes a sheet of paper over to me. She's got a list of projected dates for the album release. These are goals she has written up. She wants the recording at the studio to be finished in two or three months. Then she wants the album ready shortly after that. She wants to rush the release, it seems. I nod, sliding the piece of paper back to her.

“I can't agree to dates right now. We have to get Blake in the studio first.” I remind her. She nods.

“I was thinking we'd book next week, the 12^th through to the 16^th. It should be enough to get started.” She offers. I nod.

“There's a specific practice space I want to rent. In New Jersey.” I answer. She raises her eyebrow.

“New Jersey, why on earth do you want to go to New Jersey?” She questions. Gibson looks up from the piece of paper.

“I thought we were using my studio. It's more cost-effective than renting another space. Plus, it's only a few blocks from your house.” He argues, sounding upset. I nod.

“I know. And, in the future, I want to use yours. But, there's this space in Newark that Jared really liked, and that's where I want to go.” I explain. Jesse looks over, raising his eyebrow.

“I agree, it's illogical.” Christine announces. I shrug.

“I don't care. It'll be worth it.” I insist. Gibson nods.

“Fine. We'll rent you this magical practice space in New Jersey.” He agrees, begrudgingly. I stand up from the table.

“Perfect. I'm going to have a smoke and I'll be back.” I depart, quickly heading for the door. I'm only outside a minute when Jesse joins me. I know he doesn't smoke. I raise my eyebrow.

“It's sweet.” He starts, staring at the cars passing us on the road.

“Everything you do for Jared.” He clarifies. I shake my head.

“It's not just him, it's the band. When we were there, it was like the outside world didn't exist. We were in our own little bubble and the energy was amazing. I just want to capture that magic.” I try to explain. He's nodding along, but I know he's thinking something else.

“The band. That's why you're doing this?” He asks. His tone is almost accusing, but laced with just the right amount of curiosity that he can convince himself it wasn't.

“That's why I do everything.” I remind him. He nods.

“I know it,” He pauses again, looking over.

“I know it means a lot to you. But, I just don't want to see you put in more energy than is being returned.” He sympathizes. He's saying it in such a way that I know he's talking about Jared. He doesn't know much about our history. He knows what I've told him, what he's heard from Samuel. He doesn't know much about our present, aside from what he sees. We're pleasant to each other, like old friends. But we're also hesitant, like old lovers. I've always tried to be what Jared needed, whether it was a friend or something more. I'm not going to change that now, even if there's no time like the present. You can't force change. Or I don't want to.

“Jesse, don't worry so much. You'll see, it's all going to come together.” I offer. He fakes a smile.

“For your sake, I really hope it does.”

Chapter 7

The First Session

“Why exactly are we going to New Jersey?” Crystal asks for the third time since we piled into Blake's car. I shake my head, looking over at her. The two of us are in the backseat with Charlie, while Jared is sitting in the passenger side. He hasn't said anything, so I'm assuming he's nervous. Having a practice space concretes the idea of doing this again. Even more than having a vocalist. Now, there are expectations. But I hope he's excited too. I know Crystal is. Charlie has been quiet too, but he's got this smile on his face. One he carries with him when he's happily lost in his thoughts. I made him take the week off work to come be with us, at least for the first session. Blake, on the other hand, has made his excitement verbal. He's happy to be part of this. He has no idea what he's in for.

“You'll see.” I answer, repeating the same thing.

“When we're famous, we'll need to use a space like this. Somewhere far out. It prevents the fans from knowing where we're going to be. There's nothing like getting cluttered in the studio.” Blake announces, looking over his shoulder at Crystal. I raise my eyebrow.

“Have you been in a band before?” I ask, wondering if I recognize him from somewhere. He's got a unique appearance, but I have a tendency to forget faces. He laughs.

“Oh, no. I've just been around this.” He answers, motioning towards the building we're approaching. Blake parks the car in the employee parking space. We all follow him out.

“Interesting.” I note, more to myself. Blake smiles widely in my direction and heads for the front door.

“This place looks strangely familiar.” Crystal notes, now that we're in the lobby. She's looking around, pressing her index finger against her bottom lip. Charlie laughs, nodding.

“We've been here. We came with, uh,” He pauses, briefly looking at Jared. He's not paying attention to the conversation, but he is also looking around. He knows where we are.

“James, to teach him the songs on the album.” Jared adds, not bothering to look in our direction.

“Oh cool. You've been here before.” Blake repeats, leaning against the desk. The receptionist has already run off to find Christine, somewhere in the building. She said she would get here before us, to make sure everything was set up. She's an amazing manager, better than any Jared has had in the past.

“Yeah. Man, the music flowed. It just, worked. Like it had never worked before.” Charlie answers. Blake nods, laughing. Crystal looks over at me, still puzzled.

“Is that why you chose this place?” She asks now. I nod.

“It's one of the reasons.” I answer loosely, glancing in Jared's direction. He pretends not to notice.

“You're here!” Christine calls from the hallway behind us. I turn around to see her speed walking towards us. She's wearing a light gray pencil skirt over top of plain black stockings. She's got a plain white dress shirt underneath the matching suit jacket. Over the left pocket, she has a small black rose broach. It was a gift from her father, she once told me. He's since passed away, so she wears it with every outfit, from casual to business. She's got her long blonde hair pulled into a bun on the right side of her head. It's loose, with random strands hanging around, but looks like it was intentional. She's wearing thin-rimmed glasses over her bright blue eyes, accented by the same color eye shadow she's also wearing. She doesn't bother with other make-up, but she always makes her eyes pop.

“We're here.” I agree, motioning towards Blake.

“Blake, this is Christine. She's the manager.” I introduce. She holds her fragile hand in his direction and he lightly shakes her hand. He steps back and bows, which makes her laugh.

“It's nice to meet you.” He greets. She smiles widely.

“Likewise.” She agrees, now looking over at me. She smiles in such a way that I know exactly what she's thinking. I just smile back, motioning down the hall.

“Oh, right.” She shakes her head and turns on the heels of the black flats she has on her feet.

“I've been here for a few hours, getting everything set up for you. All the instruments you'll need are in the room. So, all you'll need to do is sit down and play. Of course, if you need anything else, at all, I'll be somewhere in the building.” She assures. I look over at her.

“You're not staying?” I question. She shakes her head.

“No. We want the process to go smooth. You don't need to feel like management is breathing down your neck. It'll help relax the atmosphere if it's just you guys.” She explains, looking around.

“Well, you hardly seem like a stress. But, you do represent something that can be stressful to the creative process.” Blake offers. Christine gives me the same smile, then looks at Blake.

“Exactly.” She agrees, opening the door to the practice space. She stands in the hallway as the rest of us head inside. Blake is the first, looking around in a mix of amazement and confusion. Nothing has changed since the last time we were here. The same oriental theme. The same rugs and color scheme. The same bamboo trees in the corners. The same flow, but a completely different atmosphere.

We're not in the same mindset we were in when we last stood here. We're not even the same people. Nothing has changed, yet everything is so different. I almost regret coming here, the memories flowing back like they were only yesterday. James on the drum set Crystal is now sitting down in front of. Frankie sitting right there on the couch Jared is now sitting on, correcting Jared's fingering. Jared here, in body, but far away in spirit. No change there. I wanted to leave then and I want to leave now. I thought this would be a good idea, but I didn't realize the ghosts of yesterday were still lingering. Every step I take forward is really only taking three steps backwards. I think I'm making progress, then one little reminder undoes everything.

I stay in the doorway, with Christine. Charlie grabs one of the rhythm guitars from the wall and drops down on the love seat. Blake picks up an acoustic and sits on the edge of the couch. Charlie starts playing a song off the concept album we gave Frankie. Blake listens for a minute, then starts strumming along. He's got the rhythm instantly, but there's no way he's ever heard the song. Crystal nods to herself as she's drumming, like she's proud of remembering her parts.

“Jared, grab a guitar.” Blake almost demands, nodding towards the wall. I watch as Jared hops off the couch and grabs another acoustic. He starts playing the parts he wrote for the same song, and singing the lyrics. Blake doesn't know the song, so he doesn't sing. He stops playing and asks about some song I don't recognize. No one seems to know it either, but Blake starts playing anyway. Jared tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, listening intently. Crystal starts with a basic rhythm and Blake nods in her direction. Then Charlie joins, making up his own part. Blake laughs through the lyrics, but whatever the song is, it sounds good. When the song is finished, Blake laughs again.

“Alright, that was actually one of my songs. Well, stripped down, obviously.” He confesses, looking around bashfully.

“Yeah?” Charlie asks, leaning forward. Blake nods.

“I like it.” Crystal announces, looking over at me.

“Apparently he can write, too.” She retorts, as though I wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

“Apparently.” I agree, looking over at Christine. She shrugs.

“He's the whole package then.” She jokes. Blake smiles at us, then starts playing something else.

“This one is dedicated to all the lovely ladies.” He announces, looking back at Christine. She smiles again, and I can tell she's blushing. She looks over at me again.

“Where on earth did you find this boy?” She asks, sounding a little too enthralled. I shake my head, motioning towards him.

“He was your pick.” I remind her. She nods excessively.

“And such a good one.” She brags. I laugh, shaking my head.

“He's going to sell. I mean, I don't want to be that manager, but look at him.” She swoons. I nod.

“Yeah, he's got enough charisma for the rest of us.” I agree, briefly looking at Jared. Christine follows my stare, then lightly pulls my wrist. We step back into the hallway.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, sounding concerned. I nod.

“Yes.” I insist. She bites the side of her lip, shaking her head.

“No. I know it's not. I won't ask. Obviously, you don't want to talk about it. But, it's not okay.” She accuses. I shrug, leaning against the wall. My eyes glue themselves to the ugly carpet. It reminds me of a hotel, with the orange and red swirl patterns. Patterns that are too worn down to be recognized, from years of being trampled over. I have more in common with the carpet than I should. I shake my head.

“I'm just worried that, Jared's not ready for this.” I mumble. I don't know how much truth lies in my words. Am I worried for Jared, or worried for myself? Christine nods, then motions into the room. I follow her direction, peering around the corner. Blake is still singing, but it's supporting vocals. Jared has taken lead of the session. He seems to be at ease. He's even smiling.

“I don't know. I did my research on him,” She pauses, getting my attention. I raise my eyebrow.

“On who, Jared?” I ask. She nods.

“I'm the manager, I need to know what I'm in for. If he messes up, I take the blame. I like to be prepared. You never know, right?” She answers, like I should have figured that out. I nod.

“I think he's more ready now than he's ever been.” She offers. I sigh, looking back into the room.

“You're probably right. I'm just being paranoid.” I admit, shaking my head. She also shakes her head.

“You're not being paranoid. Paranoia is without basis. You're concerned. You don't want everything to fall apart again.” She guesses. I shrug. I wonder when I became so easy to read. Jesse knew why I wanted the practice space. Christine knows why I'm worried. It's like, my emotions are written in large print on my forehead. Only, I don't know what they are for myself.

“I'll get over it.” I dismiss, joining the band in the practice room.

Chapter 8

Music Isn't A Product

It's our third day in the practice space, despite how exhausted everyone is. Our first session ran six hours, our second ran ten. The days have been long, but they've also been rewarding. I've been able to get a really good feel for Blake's musical abilities. Like Crystal and Jared, he can play a multitude of instruments. Like Frankie, his voice is one of them. He has a unique sound. As it turned out, Blake always wanted to be in a band. He'd audition for different roles at different times. But, music wasn't his passion. He became a photographer a few years ago. Through his photography, he got contracted as a tour photographer for a few famous bands. He had even recorded a few documentaries. He had been in studios, on stage and even at the wild after parties. He was just never the center of attention. He called himself the birds eye view of the people everyone loved. He saw above and below the glory. So, he knew everything that came with the lifestyle.

“What happened?” Crystal asked, crossing one of her legs over the other. She's sitting beside Charlie on the love seat. Her drum set was abandoned two hours ago when her wrists started to ache. The guitar Charlie was playing is rested against the love seat, on the other side.

“I fell in love, decided it was time to grow up, settle down.” He laughs, shaking his head. I laugh.

“Sound familiar?” I ask, looking in Jared's direction. He laughs, shaking his head. He's sitting on the floor with his acoustic guitar in his lap. He's been bringing his own because he prefers the sound. Blake is on the couch, sitting closest to Jared. I'm on the other end of the couch, furthest away.

“Hey, it happens to everyone.” He argues playfully. I nod, still smiling. Blake raises his eyebrow.

“You too?” He asks, looking towards Jared. He nods.

“But, here we are. Picking ourselves back up and getting ready to start again. We just keep going.” Jared answers loosely. Blake is quiet for a minute, before his brown eyes light up.

“That's a great band name.” He announces. I raise my eyebrow.

“What is?” I question, leaning forward.

“We just keep going.” Blake answers, looking around. Crystal sits up straight, looking at Blake. Her eyes mirror the same light that his are showing. I smile, shaking my head.

“You're right.” Jared agrees, nodding. Charlie laughs.

“WJKG for short. It sounds like a radio station.” He adds. I look around the room.

“Are we changing the band name then?” I question.

“We didn't have a definitive one yet, anyway.” Crystal dismisses, waving her hand at me.

“Plus, it's pretty awesome.” Charlie agrees. I look over at Jared.

“You're on board too?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I don't want an opinion.” He dismisses. I shake my head.

“Yeah, alright. It's just a band name. I think the sound is more important.” I agree. Crystal sighs, dropping her back against the couch. She puts her hands over her face.

“Not this again.” She whines. I nod.

“Yes, this again. We need to know which direction we're picking before we head forward. We have to know what sound we're looking to perfect.” I argue. Crystal shakes her head.

“No, because you know what we want and you won't do it.” She accuses. I inhale deeply. She's right. Her and Charlie want a darker edge. Growing up in Illinois, Charlie is most familiar with punk. He practiced songs by the Dead Kennedy’s and Motorhead. It's what he knows and what he loves.

“What do you want?” Blake asks, not having been a part of these earlier conversations. We haven't talked about the direction since he joined. The conversation took place when Jared agreed he would be the singer. We figured it would be a pop-punk sound, making the best use of Jared's vocal range and only four musicians. Jared didn't care about the sound of the music. As long as it could be stripped down, that's all he cared about. He can play anything you put in front of him. He's gifted like that. It's like his fingers have a mind of their own. A familiarity with the music that is unmatched by anyone else. He only needs to skim the music page before he can play the song, flawlessly. It's just one of the many things that make him so unique. Really, he just wanted to write out the pain. Writing had always been his escape, a way he could deal with his feelings.

“I want to sing.” Crystal announces. I look at Blake.

“By that, she means she wants to scream. She wants one of those bands that has two vocalists, one singing while the other screams. You know? Like, The Animal In Me.” I offer. Blake shakes his head.

“I don't know who they are.” He admits. I shrug.

“Guy screams, girl sings.” I summarize. He nods.

“But I don't want to do that. I want to scream. You can sing.” Crystal corrects, motioning to Blake.

“We could do that. You scream, I sing. Jared can do backing vocals if he wants. If not, he can write. I mean, we'll change our parts if we need to,” He pauses, looking over at Jared. He nods.

“Whatever you need.” He agrees. Crystal nods, excessively.

“See?” She whines, looking at me. I shake my head.

“I already told you, that won't sell. We need something that will sell. Electronic music is the direction the industry is heading into. We need to follow that direction.” I argue. Frankie's music was all manufactured. Every song could be played on the radio and adored by everyone. This is what the label wants. A good product that the public will eat up. Singles and radio time. Sold-out concert tickets and merchandise flying off the shelves. Crystal doesn't get that.

“No offense, but, electronic music is a trend. It's not worth following. Besides, music isn't a product. Music is a lifestyle, an energy. It's not about what is going to sell, but what you want to put out there. It's a legacy.” Blake argues. I raise my eyebrow, looking over at him. Jared immediately looks down at the floor and even Crystal is frozen in place. No one argues me about anything. Everyone is too afraid I'll pull the plug. I'm the one with all the connections, who brought this idea to life. I'm the one who holds that life in my hands. Crystal is afraid I've been bottling my feelings up, so she does her best not to bother me. She's afraid I'll snap. Charlie never argues me, he never did. Jared doesn't have the energy to disagree with anything anymore. He just goes along with whatever we tell him to. He's been lifeless. Except I can see the way his cheeks have a slight wrinkle in them. He's smiling, though trying not to let anyone else see it. He's now buried in his notebook, pretending to be lost in thought. But he can't fool me. He thinks it's hilarious that the new guy is questioning me. It's only his third day as an official member of this band.

“Jared?” I question, startling him slightly. He looks up, quickly letting the smile fade. I wait.

“I think he's right.” He agrees, quickly looking back down at his notebook. I look over at Crystal. She's staring at me with these wide eyes, similar to those you'd see on a puppy dog. She does this whenever she wants something from me and she's afraid she won't get her way. The worst part is that it works every time. Charlie just smiles as I look over to him. My eyes land on Blake, who looks apologetic and scared. He realizes that he's crossed a line, but he's handling himself well.

“It's just my view. I'm just happy to be a part of the project.” He apologizes. I nod, looking around the room again. Jared isn't writing, just holding his pen above the page. He's waiting for my reaction, but he doesn't want to make eye contact. I smile, looking back at Crystal.

“Okay.” I agree. Jared looks up abruptly, raising his eyebrow.

“Okay?” He asks. I nod, dropping my back against the couch.

“Yeah. I mean, he's right, right? It's not a product. Or, it's not supposed to be. I guess it is. But, the worst they can do is drop us for poor sales. I mean, it's better to make something we love than something they love. If your heart isn't in it, it's just a job. We don't want that. I can always do my own thing, like, a side project, or something.” I ramble. Blake claps his hands, drawing my attention.

“If you're going to go that route, we can bring a synthesizer into the tracks. That way, you can turn them into remixes. Stuff that could play on the radio or at the club.” He suggests, looking over at Crystal.

“Remixes do sell.” Crystal adds, playfully biting the side of her lip. I shake my head. It's obvious I'm outnumbered in this argument. Everyone is against me. I want to be upset, but, none of them are good at hiding their excitement. This is a big step for them, getting on the right track. In order to leave the past behind, we have to look forward to the future. If this is what they want, this is what they are going to get. I don't know how heavy the sound is going to be. Crystal looks like the type to enjoy heavy metal, with all her tattoos. So does Charlie. Jared, on the other hand, looks like he shouldn't even be on stage. This quiet and reserved little thing that he's become. But, his words may ring stronger with the right music. His impression might be longer lasting if the music isn't radio friendly.

Besides, do I want another band like Frankie's? No. We wanted to be our own thing. Something new. Something different. Maybe not to the music industry, but for ourselves. This is something new. It might even be the something new that I've been waiting for.

Crystal pulls out a notebook that was hidden behind her back, throwing it down on the table. I see in her large-print writing brainstorming with Blake across the top of the page. They've already been talking about this transition in the sound. I'm not shocked. Everyone took Blake's number the first day we met him. Last week, I spent most of my time in boardrooms talking about the addition of Blake to our contract. He only came in to sign off on the final paperwork. But, Crystal has a lot of spare time, even at the office. She can be on her phone all the time. Apparently, she has been wasting no time forming this mutiny. I watch as Crystal and Blake discuss their plans for the sound. I have to admit I am shocked when Jared puts his notebook on the table with Crystal's, showing a similar page. He's got scribbled down lyrics and in brackets, Blake's name is beside some of the verses. Crystal's is beside other verses. He's been writing based on Crystal's idea for the band. I shake my head slowly. This is the most animated I've seen Jared in months. I think I should write Blake a thank-you card.

Chapter 9

Getting Better

“I think you're getting the hang of it.” Jared encourages, smiling. I shake my head, looking over at the guitar, now leaning against the couch. No matter how hard I try, I can't figure out the proper technique to make the sounds I've heard other people make. Jared offered to take time off work to help me figure out the strings. It feels like a waste of time.

“I don't think I'm cut out.” I dismiss. He shrugs.

“Well, not everyone is. I mean, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.” He reminds me. I nod.

“I know, but, what are we going to do? Audition another musician? Hire a session musician? We'll never get along with a session.” I ramble. He shrugs, leaning back against the couch.

“I don't know. We'll switch Crystal around. She can start playing bass. Blake can play the guitar. I'll switch to the drum set.” He offers. I look over at him, rolling my head over the back of the couch.

“Would that work?” I ask, more to myself. He nods.

“Yeah. Crystal and Blake need to be at microphones, so, it's not like Crystal can drum anymore anyway. I guess, no one thought about that. We'd need a new drummer, too.” He jokes. He's smiling a little too much, but, it doesn't seem forced anymore. He's actually happy.

“It's taking it's own direction now, isn't it?” I ask. He nods.

“It is. But, maybe that's a good thing. There's no point in trying to control everything. Sometimes, natural progression is better.” He offers. I nod slowly, more out of habit than agreeing.

“Natural progression.” I repeat, thinking of all the ways I've managed to prevent it from happening in the past.

“I never thanked you.” He starts, using a soft tone. I look back.

“For what?” I ask. He looks down at his hands, now in his lap.

“I know you're the one who booked that practice space. And, I know why.” He answers, sounding nervous. He's playing with his hands, and completely avoiding eye contact. I nod.

“I picked it because I knew the band liked it there.” I dismiss. He looks up, only briefly, then nods.

“Yeah. We did. The energy was intense.” He admits. I nod, grabbing my water bottle off the coffee table. It makes the silence feel more natural. There's nothing natural about this. About us. We're the opposite of natural progression. We're regressing. We're awkward together, which is exactly why we avoid being alone. I don't know why he offered this quality time. He knew I wasn't going to commit to that stupid guitar. I don't think it had anything to do with teaching me.

“When are we getting into the studio?” He asks, breaking the echoing silence. I shake my head.

“I don't know yet. I'm meeting with Jesse tomorrow. He'll have the schedule drafted. Then we'll know.” I answer. He sighs.

“I thought you wanted to get into the studio. You seemed really excited about it.” I question, looking over. He nods.

“I do. Definitely. I'm excited about that,” He pauses. I can see something flicker in his eyes. I sigh.

“Jesse?” I guess. He laughs, shaking his head.

“I know it's none of my business. I just noticed how close you two are. You don't, I mean, you don't warm up to people this quickly. So, I thought, maybe, never mind.” He rambles. I shake my head.

“I've known Jesse for a long time, Jared.” I confess. He raises his eyebrow, now looking up again.

“What?” He asks, looking almost scandalized. I shrug.

“He's a friend of mine from way back. I met him when I moved to New York as a kid.” I add. Jared is quiet again, looking down at the couch cushion in between us.

“Oh.” He mumbles. He didn't want to know that, but he asked.

“So, have you two?” He pauses, trailing off. He doesn't want to know this, either, so why is he asking?

“Yes, we have a history. But, it's just that, history.” I can hear Frankie's voice echoing in the back of my head. I sigh.

“We were never serious. We dated when I broke up with Luke, mostly to piss Luke off.” I explain. Jared nods.

“But it's over?” He asks. I laugh to myself.

“Yeah, it's over, Jared. Our relationship is professional. That's it.” I assure. He nods again, seeming satisfied with the answer.

“You do spend a lot of time with him.” He observes. I nod.

“I do. He's solid ground for me. With everything changing, natural progression and all that, I need something that,” I pause, then shake my head. I don't want him to think Jesse means more to me than he does. Jesse has that impression for himself.

“We're friends.” I repeat. Jared nods, but doesn't say anything.

“Anyways, this isn't exactly a conversation we should be having.” I remind him. He raises his eyebrow.

“Why do you say that?” He asks. I look around the empty room. I briefly motion to the open space, then look back at him.

“Jared, things are still weird between us. We're in that phase between dating and being friends still. You're not ready to know if I do start seeing someone else, and likewise.” I observe. He looks back down and I know that's his way of agreeing. We can't face what this has become. Not that we ever could.

“I'd still want to know.” He argues. I nod.

“When it happens, you will. But right now, you need to focus on getting better.” I insist. He sighs.

“I'm fine.” He runs one of his hands through his hair.

“I'm worried about you. I know you're getting better, but there's something different. I guess.” He adds, mostly under his breath. I clear my throat, standing up. He raises his eyebrow.

“Where are you going?” He asks. I look at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. It's nearing dinner time.

“I have to go pick up dinner.” I announce, smiling widely. He sighs, looking down at the ground.

“Alright.” He agrees. He doesn't offer to come for the walk, because he knows better. He knows that I'm not picking up dinner, Crystal does that. I just need away from him.

Chapter 10

Questions

“I've got you guys in the studio from the 19^th to the 23^rd. That's all of next week, completely booked.” Jesse announces, looking up from his paper. I nod, taking a bite of my salad.

“Okay. I think we can swing that. I'm not sure about Blake. He has a normal job, like a normal person.” I add. Jesse laughs, shaking his head. He's already finished eating and he's on his third glass of wine.

“Speaking of Blake, how was the practice space?” He asks, putting the sheet down. I nod, biting the side of my lip.

“It was great. I was hesitant about being there. But, it really came together.” I gloat. He nods slowly.

“Everything working out for you then?” He asks. I pause, wine glass to my lips and shake my head.

“I told you, that's not a thing.” I dismiss. He shakes his head.

“I know. But,” He pauses, then shakes his head yet again.

“I know.” He repeats. I put my glass down on the table.

“I wanted that space for more than just Jared. Yes, Jared loved it. He wrote a bunch of great songs. And no, that's not me being biased.” I pause, looking him straight in the eye. He nods.

“Okay.” He agrees, motioning for me to continue.

“It was a smart move.” I finish. He nods, but I'm not sure.

“So you're ready to hit the studio?” He asks again. I nod.

“Yeah, I think we are. I think that everyone is actually getting psyched about it, too.” I add. He nods.

“That's good. I like to hear that. It's never good when the band gets nervous.” He agrees. We're both quiet for a few minutes.

“Speaking of Jared.” I start, pausing. He looks up.

“He's asking questions.” I offer. Jesse raises his eyebrow.

“What do you mean? Questions about what?” He asks. I motion between the two of us, lightly laughing.

“Oh.” He mutters. I nod, sipping at my wine. He leans back in his chair, tipping it back slightly. The restaurant we're at has booths in the background, but in the main dining area, they have bistro table sets. The chairs are black metal, with swirl designs on the back. They are the same height as bar stools, with the matching tables sitting just above the knee. They aren't the most common choice, but, his cousin Cassandra owns the restaurant. This was her dream, so we support it. In fact, Jesse paid for it. He took the loan out at the bank, and lets Cassandra run the place. She's done an amazing job in the six months she's owned it. It's always busy and has a great reputation. The chefs are amazing, herself included. But the booths are the more popular choice, because they are more comfortable. The bistro sets are just where we sit when it's the two of us.

“He was going to ask eventually, right?” He offers. I shrug.

“I guess.” I agree.

“What did you tell him?” He asks. I bite the side of my lip, looking around. The restaurant is mostly empty, because it's late at night. No one comes in this late, but she's stayed open for the two of us.

“What could I tell him?” I ask. He shrugs, shifting in his seat.

“I don't know.” He admits. I nod.

“We're just friends. We have a history, but it's just that. History.” I explain loosely. It's not what I told Jared, but Jesse doesn't need to know the details. I know that he's in love with me. He's said it on many drunken nights. I've told him those feelings aren't returned. I know it would be less confusing for him if I didn't take physical liberties after a few drinks myself.

“Should he know the truth about us?” He asks, mostly under his breath. I sigh, shaking my head.

“About random nights that mean nothing?” I question. Jesse nods, but looks defeated. I sigh again.

“Look, if I tell him one thing, I tell him everything. He finds out about New York, that you weren't some random friend. He finds out how far back we go, everything that has happened between us. He finds out about those tours. But, no one wants to drag the past up. It's better off this way. You know that.” I dismiss. He's quiet for a few minutes, playing with the base of his wine glass. Then he nods.

“Yeah. You're right. Dead and buried. Let's leave it that way.” He agrees, letting his eyes find the piece of paper on the table. I nod, picking back up my wine glass. The waiter comes along and takes our dishes away, bringing over another bottle of wine.

“Are you going home?” He asks casually. I fake a smile.

“You tell me.”

Chapter 11

Focus

“Blake, we need a retake on that last verse. You went too high in the middle.” Jesse calls through the intercom. Him and I are in the booth opposite of the recording room. I told Jesse about my idea for remixing the songs, so he's insisted on showing me how it all works. I know if I decide to take on an EDM project, it's going to be completely with his influence, suggestions and final say. He knows what he's doing. It's obvious, watching him work. The behind-the-scenes process of making the music is fascinating. I'm happy to see the other side of the industry this time around. Crystal and Jared are just sitting in the lounge. Jared is sitting in the middle of the large brown sofa, with Crystal sitting on his right. Her legs are draped over his as she pages through a magazine. There's a beer bottle dangling from her other hand. She popped that open over an hour ago. I don't think she's even drinking it anymore, it's just for aesthetic. I watch her lips move to the words I hear Blake attempting to sing. Jared is using Crystal's knees to rest his notebook against as he scribbles down what I can only guess is another masterpiece. He wrote at least a dozen amazing songs while we were in New Jersey. I was right about that practice space having a good energy. Now we just have to get them recorded, which is proving to be difficult. Blake is working two jobs, which means getting him into the studio is hard. When he's here, he's too tired to focus. He nods, jumping up and down where he's standing. This seems to be his routine, before singing. His own way of warming up his vocal chords. It's a strange warm up, but every vocalist has something they have to do before they start. This is his something, I suppose. He says it's to relax his muscles, which helps him focus. I imagine it's also helpful for waking him up. Jared is watching Blake out of the corner of his eye. Blake messes up the first line, trying to catch himself. He misses a word. He sighs to himself and shakes his head.

“Do you need to take five Blake?” Jesse asks. Blake shakes his head. Jesse looks over at me.

“He's exhausted.” He observes. He's wearing his headphones in only one of his ears. One side is listening to Blake sing, the other side is down around his neck. He said this gives him an idea of Blake's vocal projection. He told me that some performers are naturally quiet, while others hardly need microphones. If you can hear them belting through the glass, they are projecting properly. This is important to gauge because it determines how much more vocal practice they are going to need. According to Jesse, Blake doesn't need any work in that area. We can hear him so well, we might as well be in the same room. He's good. He's better than I could have guessed. Plus, he seems to have a complete range. I've come to understand that's rare. Most people sing in the octave they are most comfortable in. They don't go from low to high and then back. Blake likes to jump his voice all over the place. The exact same way Frankie preferred to sing. It's almost like we've replaced him with a clone. Except, this one is far less secretive. He's comfortable expressing what is going on in his head. He's comfortable challenging us and himself. He's always striving to one-up himself. It's fascinating to watch that too. I nod, having noticed his exhaustion already myself.

“He has to be at work in 3 hours.” I remind him. Jesse sighs.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, watching Blake. Blake manages to get through the song without another mishap. The whole album relies on Blake, since he's setting the bar. He's choosing the direction of the sound as he records. His parts have to be done first, the music being made up after. Everything relies on Blake. I sigh, and Jesse nods.

“He needs a break.” He insists. I nod, crossing my arms.

“Yeah. He does. Uh, we'll call it quits for today. I'll figure something out.” I offer, putting my hand on Jesse's shoulder. He nods, leaning back in the chair. There's a smile across his face.

“I know you will.” He offers me a smile and I head out of the booth. Blake is humming inside the lounge now. He looks excited as I come into the room. His eyes are bright.

“So?” He asks. I nod loosely.

“You did good. I'm not saying otherwise.” I start. He sighs.

“But,” He guesses. I laugh.

“Look, you need a break.” I instruct. He shakes his head again.

“I don't.” He argues. The sound of his stomach rumbling echoes through the room. I raise my eyebrow.

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I'll be fine.” He dismisses, like eating isn't necessary. Another audible grumble and I laugh.

“You need to eat. Come on, there's a restaurant down the street.” I insist, motioning to the front door. He sighs, grabbing his coat. He drags his feet walking towards me.

“Yeah, alright.” He agrees. Crystal taps Jared's knee.

“We're leaving.” She announces, dropping her feet to the floor. She puts the beer bottle on the table in front of her, standing up. Jared looks confused, closing his notebook.

“What's going on?” He asks, looking around. I motion to Blake.

“We're calling it a day and going to get lunch.” I answer. Jared nods loosely, grabbing his sweater. I wave to Jesse, still in the booth, as we head to Blake's car. I sit in the passengers side and Jared gets into the backseat, with Crystal. I direct Blake to the restaurant up the street and we park outside. I practically push Blake into the place, choosing a booth at the back of the restaurant. Cassandra comes over to our table, dressed in all black. She's got four menus in her hand and a bottle of red wine. It's one of the most commonly sold bottles.

“Jesse busy?” She asks, motioning to the table. I nod.

“He's still working, sadly.” I answer. She nods.

“I'm sure we'll see him soon.” She hints, placing the bottle of wine on the table. She hands out the menus and heads back to the bar. When she comes back, she has four wine glasses.

“Thank you.” I nod and she takes off again.

“I'm guessing you come here often.” Blake observes, looking over the menu. I nod, mostly to myself.

“The owner is one of Jesse's friends.” I offer loosely. Jared raises his eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. Crystal skims the menu, dropping it down on the table. Her finger rests over the chicken parmigiana.

“Oh, good choice. The chicken here is amazing.” I note. Crystal nods, closing the menu. She reaches for the bottle of wine, opening it and pouring her glass to the brim. I laugh, only filling mine half way. I motion the bottle in Jared's direction. He nods, so I pour his glass the same as mine. Then I hand the bottle to Blake. He bites the side of his lip.

“I shouldn't.” He pauses. I laugh.

“Half a glass before dinner won't hurt.” I insist. He shrugs, pouring less than half.

“Just a taste.” He mumbles, mostly to himself. A waiter comes over to our table. Crystal gets what she wanted. I order the fish and chips. Blake and Jared both order salads. I laugh.

“I thought you'd have a big appetite.” I observe. Blake shrugs.

“Between the two jobs and my photography, I hardly get the chance to eat. I don't bother, usually.” He explains. I nod.

“Your photography takes up ime?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“No. I stopped doing it professionally when I left California. I had an art show last year for three months, but, that's about it. It's mostly a hobby now. It wasn't my gallery or anything either. I was featured in one for black and white photography. It's not a big seller, but, the people who are looking for it are looking for it. You know? I made a couple hundred, so it was enough to pay rent.” Blake jokes, looking around the table. He's not sure if any of us have struggled financially. Crystal and Charlie might have. Jared and I have not.

“You lived in Cali?” Crystal raises her eyebrow. Blake nods.

“Yeah. Most of my life. I was born in Nevada, but grew up in California.” He answers. I laugh.

“Isn't that an interesting coincidence?” I ask. Jared nods to himself. Blake raises his eyebrow, looking between us.

“I feel like I am missing so much.” He jokes, more to himself.

“There's a lot of history. Jared was born in Nevada, but grew up in California. We only recently moved here.” I explain. Blake nods, like he's understanding something else.

“Same. That relationship I was so sure of fell through, so, I needed a change of scenery. Moved here about, a year ago now. Wow. Time flies.” He observes, shaking his head. The waiter comes over to the table with the salads, placing them down. The one Jared ordered has diced chicken on top of it. The salad Blake ordered has egg slices on top. I raise my eyebrow, but don't question it out loud.

“How have you liked New York?” Jared asks, mostly making conversation. Blake shrugs.

“I mean, it's bigger. There's a market here that wasn't back home. But it's more cut-throat. I don't think I'm cut out for undercutting, you know?” He observes. I nod along. He most definitely isn't. I don't have to know him to know he's not the confrontational type. He may have confidence, but he's not ruthless. I learned the hard way that the industry requires you to be ruthless. I look over at Crystal. She's got her phone in her hands and she looks upset. I'm sure she's talking to Charlie. She's been pressuring him to move here. She says it would make the album easier, but she just misses him. I tried telling her that there's a chance he's not coming. I think he wants to, but he's too scared. He's never lived anywhere but Illinois, it's home to him. But, Crystal won't hear it. She insists he's going to come. I think he's just going to maintain the long distance relationship for as long as possible before breaking things off. I watch the way Blake is picking at his salad, taking small bites. I think about living like that, paycheck to paycheck. Too broke to afford food, too busy to have time to eat. I can see in his posture that he hardly sleeps. The bags under his eyes accentuate the look. He's working himself to death.

“We've got a spare bedroom.” I announce, following my own trail of thoughts. Jared and Blake had started talking about which kind of camera is the best for still frames.

“I'm sorry?” Blake baits me to repeat. I shrug, picking up my wine glass. The waiter comes back with Crystal's dish.

“Cassandra is making yours herself.” He announces in my direction. I nod and he heads to another table. Cassandra makes the best fried fish, seasoned perfectly. I'm not shocked she's back there cooking for me. She loves me, and I appreciate that. But, she also thinks I'm going to marry Jesse, which is wrong.

“Our apartment has two levels. The second level has a bedroom and a small kitchenette. There's no bathroom, but the bathroom is just down the stairs. We can't rent it out, because it's open and overlooks the living room. None of us want a stranger living there. You understand, I'm sure.” I explain. He nods along as I speak, but still seems confused. He looks like he might be trying to picture it for himself. He hasn't seen our apartment because none of us are ever home.

“I mean, I'm just throwing it out there. It's hard to have creative freedom when you're trying to make money to pay your bills. We don't pay rent. We own the place. The mortgage is paid for by the label. Basically, you'd only have to pay for your own stuff, like food. Then you'd be able to quit one or both of your jobs and focus on this.” I detail. Blake looks shocked. Jared's shoulders have tensed. He's sitting beside Blake, so I know he can tell. He shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I mean, it's an amazing offer and I do appreciate it. Don't get me wrong. But, you've already done so much for me. I wouldn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.” He rambles, still shaking his head. I nod, finishing off my glass of wine. Cassandra comes over to the table a minute later, with a plate in her hands. She smiles brightly as she puts it down in front of me.

“Thank you. It looks perfect.” I offer. She nods, darting off. She's a shy and timid girl. Jared coughs.

“I think it's a good idea. I remember the days you're going through, a struggle to survive. It's not easy.” He sympathizes.

“You wouldn't be uncomfortable?” Blake asks, looking over. Jared shakes his head after a brief contemplation.

“Like she said, it's an apartment. But, only has half a kitchen. There's a full-sized fridge. There's plenty of counter and cupboard space. There's a counter top stove, but no oven. You can use ours.” Jared rambles. Blake shakes his head, laughing.

“Most apartments in New York don't have ovens. A stove top is more than suitable for heating up soup.” He assures. Jared nods, lightly laughing. Crystal looks up from her phone.

“What are we talking about?” She asks, confused. I laugh.

“Nice of you to join us.” I joke. She shakes her head, putting her phone face-down on the table. I can tell she's flustered, but I don't want to call her out on it. She's probably fighting with Charlie. It's been happening now that we have deadlines.

“Blake, possibly moving in with us.” I answer, tapping my knee to hers. She looks over at Blake, raising her eyebrow.

“Are you moving in?” She asks. He shrugs, looking around.

“I don't know. We were just talking about the possibility.” He confesses. Crystal claps loudly, drawing attention to herself.

“I think it's fucking brilliant.” She exclaims. Jared and me both look over at her. Blake is blissfully ignorant. Crystal never swears, even now. She still believes it's a negative thing. But, I think it's her right to be feeling a little negative. I won't say that out loud. I'll let her have this moment, and any that may follow.

The conversation turns to the logic of Blake moving in. He can save money by not having to pay rent. He can save time, by not needing two jobs just to afford his bills. Plus, he can eat more frequently, since Crystal and I keep that restaurant in business. It's a smart move, moving in with us. A really smart move. He needs the freedom to focus on his artistic work. Jesse will be relieved if Blake can focus more. I'll be relieved to have a distraction.

Chapter 12

Ownership

“What exactly are you saying?” I ask, leaning back in the chair. It tips as I do, which only slightly startles me. I'm too irritated to be anything else. We've been sitting in this boardroom for three hours and not once have I understood what they are talking about. Finally, Jesse looks up from the contract he's been reading. His glasses are at the tip of his nose.

“They want you to have split ownership.” He summarizes, going right back to the paperwork. It's not the contract I originally signed with Frankie, but a new one. This one, apparently, divides the rights of the album between Frankie and our band. This would allow both parties to perform the songs, if they were so inclined. It would also mean both parties would receive royalties from the other. This isn't an agreement that normal labels would put together for a splitting artist. Normally, I would have been in violation of my contract, subject to a law suit or obligated to stay. The difference is that we're both signed to the same label. The label wants both of us to agree on the terms.

“That's exactly what it means.”

“Have you met with Frankie about this?” Jesse asks, looking over at one of the two members of his team. This meeting is with a woman in her mid 30's and a gentleman in his 40's.

“No. Frankie has essentially given up rights, but, we don't have that in writing. He hasn't made himself readily available for this conversation. He's too busy promoting his new album.” The gentleman dismisses. Jesse raises his eyebrow and looks over.

“New album? I thought this was the new album.” He sounds confused. The woman shakes her head.

“No. His band put together a new album. It's clear they have no interest in this one.” She announces.

“If he has no interest, why not hand the rights over completely? Why the split?” Jesse asks. I nod, motioning towards him.

“Exactly. If Frankie wants nothing to do with the album, we may as well take it. He's never going to perform the songs live, or on radio shows. He's never going to promote any of it. They are just going to be wasted.” I ramble. There's a lull, but the gentleman nods.

“That's why we've decided that split ownership is in the best interest of both parties. You can do whatever you want. Frankie's name will just be on paper.” He tries to reason. I nod.

“I understand that. But we don't want his name anywhere. We are moving on. Moving forward. The band is stepping out from his shadow. We're moving away from him. We have to.” I argue. Another lull as the two of them look back and fourth. Jesse looks up at me, but he doesn't say anything. I know what he's thinking anyway. He's told me too many times recently.

“We understand that there might be more personal reasons for your hesitation.” The gentleman starts.

“We're talking about a professional movement forward. This has nothing to do with the personal history.” Jesse interrupts, looking towards the end of the table where the two of Frankie's people are sitting. They both nod, looking down at the table.

“Can we have a minute, please?” Jesse asks, motioning for the two of them to leave the room. They continue nodding as they head into the hallway. Jesse waits a minute before looking over.

“Don't start with the repressed emotions lecture again. I have it memorized already.” I sigh. He shakes his head.

“I'm not going to. Trust me. I know it's a dead end anyway.” He agrees, laughing lightly. I smile.

“I know it's a good deal, the split ownership thing.” I start, letting out a deep breath. He nods slowly.

“I don't want to do this forever. We need to move on. I need to move on.” I admit. He smiles.

“I think you are. You're getting better.” He insists. I fake a smile. It's funny how often I've heard that recently. I wonder, what was wrong before? What am I getting better from?

“Thanks.” I offer, dropping down against the chair.

“Are you sure you want to go to that release party?” He asks, now putting his hands on the table. I shrug.

“I was never sure. I just,” I pause, trying to find the words.

“Thought it would help. I know. One of the most important steps to recovering is facing the problem.” He finishes my thought. I nod, then look over at him. I smirk.

“Too bad the next step is removing yourself from the problem.” I joke. He fakes a smile, but I can read right through it.

“It'll get easier.” He lies. I shrug again.

“That's why you're here.” I add. His smile becomes real.

“Whatever helps you recover.” He offers. We're both quiet for a minute before there's a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Jesse calls, sitting up straight. He wants to look professional in front of these people. He is professional, of course. But around me, he tends to let his guard down. At least, these days. When Gibson walks in, he lets his shoulders drop.

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” I greet. He nods, walking in rushed steps. Then he drops down in the chair beside me and throws an envelope towards Jesse.

“I'm sorry I'm late, but you'll be pleased with why.” He gloats, bursting with an energy I haven't seen in a while. I look over, watching Jesse skim through the letter. He's noticeably paled.

“What is it?” I ask, now concerned. He puts it down on the table and folds his hands into themselves. I reach for the letter and he lets his hands hit the table. In the background, I hear Gibson rambling about the traffic at noon in New York, how that's something he never had to worry about in Illinois. But I can't focus. All I can focus on is the letter in my hand. It's penned on a piece of stationary from the label. There's a stamp in the top corner, showing the logo and the name. At the bottom of the letter, it has a printed stamp that says from the desk of Christine Winters. It's professional in appearance, but it isn't professional. It isn't some generic, printed letter. It's hand-written by Frankie himself, apparently from Christine's office. It's addressed to Gibson and myself, regarding the album.

“Are we ready to tackle this paperwork?” The gentleman asks, coming into the room. I smile.

“It would appear that we don't have to.” I correct, holding up the letter that is still in my hand. He raises his eyebrow.

“What is that?” He asks.

“It's a letter from Frankie. More specifically, his written decision to surrender all rights to the album.” Gibson answers. I see the concerned look spreading across both of their faces.

“And, before you try and say it's not valid, for whatever reason, it says right at the bottom that Christine oversaw this letter. That makes it official.” Jesse adds. I'm still in shock, staring at the letter. In it, Frankie writes that the album is rightfully ours, that he wouldn't want to take something that we worked so hard on. He goes on to say that he barely did anything for the album, so it wasn't fair to give him credit in any way. He also writes that we can decide ownership among ourselves, should that be an issue. But as of the date of the letter, he will have no further say in the matter.

“Well, I guess this meeting is over then.” The gentleman grumbles, storming out of the boardroom. The woman follows behind him, clearly confused about what happened.

“Am I a great lawyer, or what?” Gibson jokes, leaning back in his chair. He's got one of his arms up over the back of the chair and the other is rested in his lap. Jesse shakes his head.

“You're not a lawyer. You're a producer. Hardly a good one, either.” He teases. Gibson shakes his head, looking at me.

“So? Are you happy you won?” He asks, motioning to the letter. I shrug, looking over at Jesse.

“Yeah. I mean, this doesn't exactly fit with our sound. Not even the slightest. But, yeah.” I ramble. Gibson nods.

“Ah, forget about the sound. You can always mix and match. Or just give the songs to Blake. That kid can do anything with music.” He suggests. It's true. Blake can take any song and completely change the genre. It's a five minute process for him, as easy as breathing. He just changes the octave of the song and bends the music to his will. Our last day in the practice space, him and Crystal rewrote a Britney Spears song. It sounded amazing, I won't deny. Even if he did remix these songs, we wouldn't be using them. They weren't written by us. They were written by people we've long left behind. They were written about memories that are faded by now. Still, it's a victory. Although it may be shallow, it's a victory I'm happy to have.

Chapter 13

Victories

“Good morning.” I greet Crystal, heading into the living room. She nods in my direction from the kitchen. I notice the stack of boxes sitting beside the staircase that leads upstairs.

“They've already started moving his stuff in?” I ask. She nods, now coming into the living room. She sits down at the end of the chaise and I drape myself across the couch. I nod.

“Cool.” I hum. It didn't take Blake very much convincing after we made the suggestion. He came to see the place on Tuesday night and fell in love. The upper level bedroom is bigger than any of the bedrooms on the lower level. Mostly because it was intended to be a bedroom and a living area. Blake is welcome to do that if he's so inclined. Unlike a bachelor apartment, where he's currently living, it's spacious. There's even room for a small table set in the kitchen. He'll mostly use the island downstairs to eat though. He's already said that. He thinks it's a great deal, which it is. Some might think he's a little insane for moving in with people he hardly knows. But if he wasn't a little crazy, he wouldn't fit in. She leans forward, offering her pack of smokes in my direction. She's not smoking regular ones anymore. She only smokes flavored cigars. Sometimes, they are bitter. Other times, sweet. It all depends on her mood. Her neutral flavor is vanilla, which is what she is offering me. I accept, taking one out of the pack. I light mine and she lights hers. I take a shallow inhale.

“So, what's up?” Crystal asks, resting her coffee cup on her legs. I raise my eyebrow, now looking over at her.

“Nothing?” I question. There's something about her tone.

“Come on, something is definitely up. You've been unusually happy these days. It's just not like you.” She insists. I shrug.

“I'm just happy that things are working out with Blake. He's really amazing, isn't he?” I ask. She raises her eyebrow, tapping her cigar above the ashtray on the table.

“You don't like him, do you?” She questions. I laugh.

“Not the way you're implying.” I assure. She nods.

“Good. I think he's into Jared. I think he might be gay.” She observes. I laugh. She wasn't at the club when Blake came out to us. No one has brought it up again, because it doesn't really matter to anyone. But, Crystal has clearly been picking up on the vibes they are both sending out. I imagine anyone who spends enough time around the two of them would pick up those vibes. They are making it as obvious as possible, short from making out in the middle of our recording sessions. I don't ask what they do in their spare time. I know they spend time alone together. But, I don't ask Jared about his romantic interests. Normally, he doesn't ask about mine either. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of us. We don't want to make things awkward for each other. We were over before we got here. I was prepared for him to find someone new. Of course, I didn't expect it to be our new lead singer. But I had braced myself for everything that would have come along. The pain and jealousy, mostly. I expected a bit of a struggle, coming to terms with the finality of it all. But, I find myself smiling more than I should. Jared has been so happy since Blake came into the picture. I'm not going to second guess anything that makes him feel that way.

“Yeah, I know.” I agree. Crystal looks up from her coffee cup and nods. A small cloud of smoke fills the air in front of her as she does. Through it, I can see that she's nodding to herself.

“So he is gay, then?” She asks. I nod.

“Beautiful.” She declares, leaning back. I raise my eyebrow, looking at the expression on her face.

“Are you being serious?” I question. She smiles brightly.

“I'm being serious.” She answers. I nod, slowly exhaling my own vanilla-scented smoke cloud.

“I mean, no offense to you and Jared, but, I think they work well together. I mean, you and Jared might have worked, but never like this. This magical. These smiles. It's beautiful to see love blossom like that.” She rambles. It seems this is restoring her faith in her own relationship, and just love in general. I wish it was having the same effect on me. But, I'm questioning things more now. Blake has made Jared happier in a few short weeks than I was ever able to in years. Maybe it's because I'm the wrong gender. Or maybe, I just never understood him the way Blake seems to. I've realized being in love doesn't make two people compatible. I know Jared loves me, that he always will. A love like the one we share, can't change. But we can, and we did. As people. Crystal is right. We never worked, not the way they do. I was trying to be a girlfriend when Jared really needed a friend. When I started being his friend, we were finally on the same page. That's when he opened up about Frankie, about his months of ill-repute. That's when the walls came down. But as his girlfriend, I was a liability. Something he had to worry about, tip-toe around. He was too afraid of worrying me to let me in. I think we work better now, assuming we've ever worked.

“I know.” I agree as she looks back over. She nods.

“So, what's been up with you?” I ask. She knows without me having to clarify the question. She smiles loosely.

“It's two weeks from now.” She answers, looking over. I nod.

“Yeah, I know. I've been paying attention.” I confirm that I'm following her thoughts. She looks at the floor, then at me.

“Do you think, I mean, if we showed up, would we be welcomed?” She asks, seeming hurt. I let myself smile, shaking my head in disbelief. She looks back at me, seeming sad.

“We'd be welcome.” I assure her. She raises her eyebrow.

“How do you know that?” She asks. I shrug, leaning back.

“Call it a hunch?” I dismiss. She shakes her head.

“I think, I want to go.” She announces. I nod.

“Okay.” I agree. She nods again.

“It's invite only though.” She complains, pausing as she looks in my direction. I take a deep breath.

“It's a good thing we were invited then.” I announce. This catches her attention. She looks over.

“We were invited?” She repeats. I nod slowly.

“What?” Her voice cracks. I nod.

“Yeah.” I answer dismissively. She bites the side of her lip.

“By who?” She now asks, still seeming sad.

“By him, personally. I just didn't know how you'd react. I know that Jared isn't ready to face him. I wanted you to be better before I told you.” I pause. She nods, looking down again.

“You don't have to worry. I'm not going back to that dark place. I didn't like it. Too cloudy.” She assures, smiling wide. I laugh.

“Good. Angry Crystal was hard to handle.” I joke. She nods.

“I want to tell him we're better off.” She adds. I nod.

“You would.” I mutter. She laughs.

“Not bitterly, or anything. You know I don't care for negative attitudes. But, it's true. The music is so much better now. The flow, the dynamic. It's perfect.” She says dreamily. I couldn't agree more. Jared's lyrics are amazing and the way Blake uses his voice makes it the best instrument we have. Everything is clicking into place, the way I always hoped it would.

“I'm going.” I offer. She looks over and smiles.

“Yeah?” She asks. I nod.

“Jesse is coming too. I was going to invite Blake, but he's working.” I explain. She raises her eyebrow.

“How long have you known?” She asks, curiously. I shrug.

“A few weeks.” I dismiss. She raises her eyebrow.

“Wow.” She mutters, almost in disbelief. I nod along slowly.

“I spoke to Frankie.” I add. Her eyes go wide.

“You spoke to Frankie?” She squeaks. I shake my head.

“Not directly, no. We sat down with his management team. We had been trying to decide who gets the concept album we worked on.” I answer. She seems confused, looking over.

“The concept album? Why?” She questions. I nod.

“We worked on it too.” I remind her. She nods.

“Yeah, but it's coming out on his label. How could we possibly take it from him?” She argues. I shake my head.

“We're on the same label, firstly. Secondly, we're not taking anything. We're just putting our name on it instead.” I explain. She shakes her head. I think she's struggling to understand.

“It's coming out in two weeks.” She argues. I shake my head.

“No it's not. When we signed with them, Frankie scrapped the production. He put together a different album, with his new band. That's the one coming out. Not the one we worked on. The one we have the right to. We are taking that one, because Frankie gave it to us.” I detail. She stands up, pacing back and fourth across the living room floor. She looks over at me, looking like she's ready to cry.

“Are you serious?” She asks. I nod.

“I have a letter if you want to read.” I add. She shakes her head.

“Oh my God. That's so fucking awesome.” She yells excitedly. I smile, but it's interrupted as the door opens.

“This stays between us for now. Okay?” I demand in a hushed voice. Crystal looks from the door to me, nodding too quickly.

“Yeah, okay. Just us. Our little secret.” She agrees. She stops pacing and looks over at me, smiling brightly.

“Thank you.” She offers. I nod. I know it's more than getting the album to her. It's not about the music, or the concept we perfected. It's a small victory. We walked away without the band, without the album and without him. But we revived the band. We're getting the album. We're saying to him: we never needed you. And it's true.

I hope she'll be quiet about the party and the album. I need to buy time until after I've spoken to Frankie face-to-face. Or maybe it's got nothing to do with that. Maybe I just don't want to accept that we're truly moving on. Seeing Frankie will be a finality to something I don't know if I'm ready to finalize. I'm hoping I'll let go once I finally face him. It can't be over the phone. I won't call him, even though I said I would. I don't need to articulate something fancy or knock him down with a few well-worded phrases that I spent days trying to come up with. I have to see him. He'll be proven wrong if I go to that release party. That's just another small victory. I don't need the big ones. I'm not lavish, not greedy. Small and steady is good enough for me. I can work with this.

Chapter 14

Impressions

If Blake wasn't working, I'd have invited him to the party. I know that he's seen the lifestyle. He knows the way all of this works. But he hasn't seen it with us. With Crystal, the way she steals the show. How she has the attention of everyone the minute she walks into any room. There's no one else like her. Blake hasn't seen the way she rules the world. I would have introduced him to the few big shots I'll know at the party. I didn't make it a point to rub shoulders with everyone. I picked carefully. I learned fairly early in life that it's not about how many people you know, it's about who they are. Quality is better than quantity. It's better to know a handful of important people than all the semi-important people. So I didn't bother trying to meet everyone and make an impression. I didn't take names or make any mediocre contacts. I went above everyone else. I went straight for the people who matter the most, the ones who are often behind the scenes. CEOs rarely come out to see how the talent they have signed is doing. They send someone else, like a manager. But, making an impression on a manager doesn't help you in the long run. You have to go to the bosses to make a real impact. I made sure to make an impact.

I've always believed that a first impression is the most important. But, Crystal taught me the importance of every one that follows. To make a lasting impact on someone, every impression has to be good. From first to last. This means, you have to arrange yourself for them. You only meet with important people on your best days, in your best clothes and with your best attitude. It's nothing but the best. You only wish someone well if you mean it. You only gloat about their accomplishments if you believe they are accomplishments. You never put on a fake persona or wear a fake smile or deliver fake compliments. It's easy to tell when people are being disingenuous. Important people get enough of that thrown at their feet. They'll skip right over yes-men and people who treat them like Gods. They look for the people who are down-to-earth. People who are honest about their intentions. Genuine people are a rarity, so they are sought after.

Crystal and I are waiting outside the small cafe we're meeting our dates at. The mid-October wind is chilly, but we're used to it. I'm worried about the night ahead of us. I know Crystal has all these plans, but I hope she'll be classy about her tactics. I want her to rub in our new-found success, but with poise.

She's dressed to impress or to kill. But that's exactly her intent tonight. She's locked and loaded and she's going to walk in there and pull the trigger. She's got on black stockings, and a simple pair of black high-heeled shoes. She's wearing a black skin-tight dress, hugging her curves in all the right ways. She's wearing a black shawl over her shoulders that has a touch of glitter in the fabric. She's holding a clutch that's nothing but silver glitter. Her eyes are painted to match, mostly black with a hint of silver glitter as well. She's not wearing any lipstick, just a sparkly gloss. Her long blonde hair is tied up into a bun on the side of her head. She's got a small clip-on top hat in the middle. She doesn't have to try very hard, she'll be the center of attention anyway.

She's the face of fashion now. Everywhere she goes and everything she does has to make an impression on everyone she meets. This was always her dream, to change the face of fashion. The whole industry was served to her on a silver platter. Everyone loves her because of her shining personality. She's sweet, hard-working, and genuine. Three things it's impossible to find in someone these days. She's a star, but it's never going to her head. She's never going to think she's better than everyone else. But tonight, she gets to think she's better than him. Tonight, she gets to prove it to him, and to herself. He won't care. He'll be proud that she's grown up, grown into herself. She has become something amazing. He'll always be proud of her, even if she can't see that. But, she doesn't want sympathy tonight. She wants blood and guts and glory. She's going to get everything she wants, and more. She always does.

“You took your time.” I complain, looking over at Jesse. He's stepping out of a rented limousine, now idling beside us. It's sleek and black, the typical vehicle of the stars. Crystal looks at the limousine, then back at me.

“Are we showing up in this?” She squeaks, excitement taking over all her features. I motion towards the open door.

“You want to make a killer impression, right?” I ask. She nods, quickly climbing into the back seat. Jesse smiles in my direction. He's got his brown hair slicked back with gel. He's wearing contacts instead of glasses. He's dressed in a black, freshly pressed suit. He's even wearing black dress shoes that have been polished. I look him up and down.

“You went all out.” I observe. He shrugs, like it's typical for him. He always dresses well, but nothing like this. Tonight, he looks like a the most eligible bachelor on some millionaire reality show. I climb into the back seat to see Gibson dressed exactly the same. Suddenly, I feel under dressed. I'm wearing the same thing as Crystal, without the shawl. But my simplicity is simple, unlike hers. Mostly because my personality is too.

“It's a record release party. Not a gala.” I remind them. Gibson shrugs, looking over at Crystal. She's already telling him about her new clothing line. He's staring at her, enamored. I wonder how Charlie would feel, knowing someone else was all over his woman. Then I realize, he wouldn't care. He's confident about their relationship. He knows he doesn't have anything to worry about. Half the time, she doesn't even notice when someone is flirting with her. She's an open book too. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and doesn't bother hiding anything. She always says if you've got nothing to hide then you've got nothing to fear. Living in fear is a waste of the time you could spend doing anything else. It's nice to see her coming out of the bender she's been on. She deserved to let herself go, but I like her better this way. Jesse puts his arm around me in the back of the limo. I smile in his direction, still watching Crystal and Gibson talking. She's excited for tonight. So am I.

For the first time since I got the invitation, I'm excited about going. I'm a little excited to see Frankie too. Part of me wants him to have fallen apart. I want him to have gone on a bender, and completely destroyed himself. I know it didn't happen. I know he's doing well. I've seen his performances and interviews on television. I watch him laughing, smiling, joking... Like none of this meant a thing to him. I wonder how he will feel when it's in reverse. When I'm laughing and smiling and joking and pretending he never meant a thing to me. That's why I'm going to this party. I'm going to laugh and smile with Jesse and whoever else is there. I'm going to smile in Frankie's direction, maybe even make small talk. I'll tell him how excited I am for him, how impressed I am that he got a new album together and gush completely. I'll thank him for the album, because it means so much to me to have it. Because I know playing nice will hurt worse. That will leave a bigger impression on him. It's all about the impressions you make.

I plan to walk into his life with a bang and leave everything behind in a complete wreck. You know, the same thing he did to me.

Chapter 15

Arrival

The doors are open wide as we pull up in front of the club. The label has rented out one of the most lavish clubs in New York. The guest list is comparable to a phone book, but only the most important people will be making appearances. This is a big night. Frankie's first album with the new band. He has a new sound, something critics want to sink their teeth into. They are vultures. There is no one attending the party who wasn't personally invited. There are two men standing at the entrance of the place. They are both bulky and muscular. One of them must be over six feet, while the other is just short of approaching. They have their arms crossed over their chests, trying to appear more tough than they actually are. Security is tight tonight. They went all out, after all.

“We're not letting anyone in tonight. Sorry ladies.” The one on the right announces as we approach.

“We're on the list.” I tell him. The one on the left looks at her.

“Crystal?” He asks excitedly. She nods, bowing.

“The one and only.” She agrees, smiling widely.

“She's a legend.” He insists, tapping the shoulder of the other bouncer. The first guy shakes his head.

“No one in.” He repeats, still skimming over the list. The second guy takes the clipboard with the list on it, easily finding her name. He smiles widely, motioning her inside.

“My plus one.” She adds, motioning to Gibson. Both door men nod, and Gibson follows her inside.

“Jesse.” Jesse announces, stepping out from behind me. The first guy nods, not bothering to look at the list.

“I know who you are. Right this way.” He assures, stepping out of the way. I smile, looking over at Jesse. He seems to be known by everyone, even though he has no claim to fame. He did the same thing I did. He made all the right impressions. Inside the club, we're stopped by another doorman. This one has bracelets in his hand. They are the kind you get for admittance to a concert hall, bright green and self-adhesive. He insists we all put them on. Everyone knows who we are, but it's the aesthetic. Everyone who is anyone is wearing one of these. I don't know why. Normally, it's enough to leave your name at the door. Tonight must be something else. We walk further into the club, and everyone turns to look. Tonight, we are the guests of honor. It's not even our album. We had nothing to do with this one. But it's our party because we're taking it. I knew she would steal the show.

We weave our way through the crowd, heading towards a reserved booth at the back of the club. Jesse made sure it was waiting for us, with a bottle of champagne. He knows how to make an impact. Before we even get to the table, people have started rushing over. A handful are asking about our musical direction, having heard there's a new band. It's public knowledge now, even though we've only been in the studio for three weeks. Everyone of importance has been keeping tabs. It's a big deal and everyone wants to know more about our new singer. More people are asking Crystal questions about her clothing line. Her ideas just had a debut at New York Fashion Week. They want to know the inspiration behind her work, how she comes up with such unique designs. They want to know what she has planned for the future, where she sees herself going. They want to ask about her interview and cover feature in Vogue. Gibson sends most of them away. That's his job. That's why he's here. I made sure he came tonight to keep Crystal out of trouble. There's a huge smile on Crystal's face, even after her crowd disappears. Because it was her crowd. One she made herself. This buzz, she created for herself. She had a point to prove, that she could do it on her own. She proved herself in spades. Now, her name is on the tip of every tongue in the room, just the way she wants it.

Jesse pops the bottle of champagne waiting on the table and pours the four glasses full. He toasts to a step forward, to the future. I know where's going with this. It's time to let go. He knows that's why Crystal is here. She says she has no hidden motives, but we can see there's something different about her. Tonight, she's wearing a whole new attitude. I've never seen her this way, but I can't deny I'm fascinated by it. She's a stranger to me, but one I'd strike up a conversation with. She looks over at me, champagne glass in her hand, and smiles brightly. I offer one in return and we join Jesse in his toast. After downing her glass of champagne, Crystal is up on her feet and headed off to mingle. She grabs Gibson by the shoulder and pulls him along with her. She doesn't want to sit in a booth. She wants to meet people she doesn't know yet. She wants to introduce them all to her friend, Gibson. She wants to create a bigger buzz. She wants to land a harder punch. I know why she's doing this. Frankie isn't here yet. She wants to be on the tip of every tongue, the first thing to greet him when he walks through the door. Not in body, but in presence. She's got a new drink.

“We've got to watch her tonight.” Jesse announces, following her with his eyes. I nod. I know she's going to hit hard tonight. She'll drink more than she should, too. But I can look the other way tonight. It's not special, not celebratory. She needs the liquid courage if she's going to face him. So do I.

“Do we have to watch Gibson, too?” I ask, noticing he's put his arm around her waist. Jesse laughs.

“No. I'm not exactly a big fan of the guy, but, he's not an asshole. He wouldn't do that to Charlie. Even if he has said that Crystal is a babe.” He defends. I laugh, shaking my head.

“Well he's not blind.” I offer. Jesse nods.

“She's not my type.” He hints, casually. I fake a smile.

“I'm aware.” I agree, slowly shaking my head.

Jesse and I frequent these parties. We're known for being antisocial. We sit in the booth furthest from the public, turning down everyone who tries to join us. He's done his work with the public, but he's not a fan. Neither am I. The lack of genuine interest has me turning away from most people. I'd feel bad, but he's the same. When we're together, no one tries to approach us. They leave us to our conversation, to each other.

“Well, bottoms up then.” I suggest, finishing off what was left in my glass. Jesse laughs again, holding his glass up.

“Bottoms up.” He repeats.

Chapter 16

Truth Vs Heart

I look around as I head onto the busy streets of New York. It's a little after midnight, but the streets are still crowded. Especially around the club. Everyone is outside smoking, and the noise must be driving neighboring areas insane. Frankie hasn't shown up yet, and I don't think he plans to. Still, I look around to make sure he's not coming in as I leave. I'm comfortable running into him in a mix of the other bodies inside, but outside it's too intimate. There aren't enough people to buffer a decent distraction. But, I had to come outside for two reasons. The owner of the club finally complained about Jesse and me smoking indoors. Reminding us the law was passed a long time ago that we can't smoke inside anymore. Jesse doesn't smoke as often as I do now, so he's still inside while I'm fidgeting with my lighter. It feels freezing outside. Maybe because I left my sweater in the club. Or, maybe because there isn't enough alcohol in my system to trick my body into thinking it's warm. It's more likely the chill inside of me that's run bone deep.

The second reason I needed to come outside is that my phone has been vibrating for almost 20 minutes. As I light the smoke in my hand, the piece of plastic starts ringing again. I sigh, pulling it out of the bottom of my purse. The number on the caller I.D. is Jared's.

“Jared?” I question. I faintly hear the television on.

“Where are you?” He asks, a mix of worry and agitation. I laugh, shaking my head as I inhale.

“I'm at the club with Crystal. I told you yesterday that we were going out tonight.” I dismiss. There's a silence, and that means he's contemplating something. It stirs something inside of me.

“Jared?” I ask, beginning to feel uneasy.

“What club?” He asks. I sigh, putting out my cigarette. The club doors are opening behind me, letting the noise fill my ears. I cover the other ear and start walking down the street.

“The same one we're always at.” I lie. Another silence.

“You're not.” He argues. I let my other hand drop, now a safe distance from the source of the sound.

“What are you implying?” I ask, a bitterness taking over.

“I found the invitation. You uh, forgot to put the letter away. You left it laying on the nightstand." He mumbles. I shake my head, letting out a groan. I want to ask him what he was doing in my room, but that hardly seems like a pressing matter.

“I can explain.” I start, feeling like a lover caught cheating. He laughs, or, it sounds like laughter.

“Why didn't you just tell me where you were going?” He simplifies. I lean against the brick wall of the closed shop I'm standing outside of.

“What would you have said Jared?” I retort. He sighs.

“I don't know. I would have wanted to know, I guess. I'm a little shocked you would lie to me. I mean, you've never lied to me before.” He continues. I nod, but I'm aware he can't see me. It's like I'm justifying my own actions to myself, more than to him.

“I didn't want to. Trust me.” I offer. I know that's not enough. I realize he's right, that I've never lied to him before. Not until recently, at least. I always answered honestly when he asked me something. But if he didn't ask, I didn't tell him. That was the way we worked. Maybe that was our mistake. We let the silence speak for us, instead of trying to express ourselves. We're both clumsy with words, unless they're on paper. But I know Jared. Now that he knows I lied about this, he's going to question what else I might have lied about.

If he looks too hard, he'll find out. I don't want him thinking too hard. I don't want him worrying. I don't want him finding out. I didn't even lie, I just omitted the truth. I know that's no better. That's exactly what Frankie did when he told me he was visiting James. An omission of the truth because he didn't tell me what James was to him. I'd like to think I made the right choice to lie to Jared. But if that were true, I wouldn't feel this sinking in my gut.

“Is she with you?” He asks, breaking my train of thought.

“Yeah. She wanted to come. To get closure, I think.” I answer, mindlessly. I'm checked out of this conversation already, running through what it's going to take to make this up to him. On the brighter side, I don't even feel the temperature anymore. He's quiet and that leaves my head spinning.

“Please don't lie to me.” He finally states.

“I'm sorry babe.” I sigh. I shake my head as soon as the word slips from my lips. I was on auto-pilot, but it shuts off quickly.

“I didn't mean to call you that. It's just a force of habit. I'm sorry.” I correct. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. I'm on a roll for fucking up tonight it would appear. At least, with him. Everything else seems to be going well.

“Hey, I wondered where you ran off to.” Jesse calls, jogging over to me. In his hand is the sweater I wore. I hold one of my arms out and Jesse slides the sleeve onto the arm. I take care of the other one, switching which hand the phone is in.

“Is that Jesse?” Jared asks from the other end. I bite the side of my lip. I debate lying, coming up with any excuse that will make this look better. I know that I can't get myself out of this.

“Yeah.” I admit, pausing.

“Him and Gibson came with us tonight. For moral support.” I note. I can hear that same almost-laugh. I know it's not because he thinks it's funny. It's his lack of belief and that dawns on me.

“Jared, I didn't think you'd want to see him. I didn't think you were ready.” I add, trying to apologize. He's quiet again.

“No. I'm not. I'd be happy if I never had to see him again.” He agrees. I nod, still to myself. I take a drag off the cigarette Jesse is now passing to me. I hand it back and I can hear Jared shuffling. I wonder what he's even doing up.

“I would have wanted to,” He stops.

“What?” I ask, turning my back to Jesse momentarily.

“I could have been your support.” He pauses. I can tell by the way he emphasized support that wasn't the word he was going to use. If I have to guess, he was going to say date. He knows I have a history with Jesse, despite my denial of the details. Now, he knows I lied about where I was going. Suddenly, this casual night out has taken a different turn in his mind. We're not at work and we're not talking business. We must be on a date.

“Are you jealous?” I ask, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. He's silent. Again. This explains why he was asking so many questions about Jesse in the first place. I tried to deny it to myself. Now, he's making it too obvious to ignore.

“You are.” I finish. I shake my head as Jesse passes the smoke.

“I'll be back.” I announce, continuing down the street.

“I thought we were moving on Jared.” I remind him.

“We are. I mean, I'm trying. You've got every right to date other people. You do. I don't know. Ignore me okay?” He insists. I sigh, looking back over my shoulder at Jesse. He's heading back into the club, waving as he does. I shake my head.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I ask, feeling desperate to end this conversation. To go back to my night. He's quiet again.

“Yeah. I think that might help.” He agrees.

“Goodnight, Jared.” I start, ready to close my phone.

“I love you.” He mumbles as I'm pulling the phone away from my ear. I shake my head, pretending not to hear him.

Chapter 17

The Moment

“I knew it. I should have done something sooner.” I mumble, grabbing the purse that's now falling off Crystal's shoulder. Gibson has one of his arms around her to steady her. Ten seconds prior, she was falling to the ground. She's lucky that Jesse caught her before she hit the floor. One too many tequila shots and she was done for the night. Now, we're pouring her and Gibson into the back of a taxi and sending her home. It's only one thirty. The party isn't set to wrap up for a few more hours, since they have the place booked until five. It's not legal to sell alcohol for much longer, but, that doesn't count for alcohol that's been paid for. The bar will close, but the champagne will keep coming. Since the record company is footing the bill for promotional reasons, the club can stay open longer with the special occasions license. Jesse told me earlier that a bar will get that license when they need to break the law. I told him that I was well aware. I used to help Reggie run the bar back in Illinois. He always forgets I'm from Illinois, no matter how many times I tell him that. He says I've got a New York heart. That's both a compliment and an insult. To have a heart made for New York means that you're cold, cut off. You're distant, out of reach. And I guess I am.

I keep thinking about hanging up on Jared. I think, it's more of a metaphor than actually closing the phone. Did I hang up on him too early? Did I think we were over when we still had a fighting chance? Or is he just holding on to what he has left? I'm the last thing from his old life. The last piece of the puzzle that reminds him of home. Or just, his home. I always said some people find home in people, after all. Maybe Jared found his home in me and I've been too distracted with trying to keep my head above the water. I'll think about it tomorrow. Right now, it's getting Crystal home safely. Luckily, Gibson has agreed to take her back to our apartment. I know she might wake Jared up, but part of me thinks he’s probably waiting up anyway. When Gibson shows up with Crystal, he’ll have no logical reason to be waiting up.

I don't understand why Jared is jealous. He said he wanted space. He needed time to clear his head. He's the one who ended this relationship when he started bringing strangers back to the apartment we shared. He might have come out of that mindset, but I still had to live through it. He can't think apologizing is enough to turn back time. There's no backspace on reality. We can't change the parts of the story that have already been written. He said he wanted to be friends. I accepted that. My grieving process is long over for this love. Or whatever we're calling it now. It's been over since before it started. I grieved somewhere a few years ago when the reality sunk in that we were over. I fell in love, we kept trying. But I never fully gave into the idea that we would be something like we once were. So I moved on. Because I just keep going. We just keep going. He started spending time with Blake. I thought that meant he was finally accepting the end of everything. Maybe he feels like I've been shrugging him off onto Blake. But he was never mine to discard.

Back inside, Jesse is ordering us a round. I can't turn down a drink I so desperately need. All things considered, I'm not intoxicated enough for my own liking. A part of me wants to get drunk enough to forget what Jared said, what it meant. I want to forget how Crystal was so out of it. I want to forget everything, I guess. But, I know that's unrealistic. Mostly because it's hard for me to get that level of intoxicated. But I can try, and I will.

Three rounds of shots later and Jesse is disappearing into the bathroom. He’s not alone. It's now approaching a quarter after two. Granted, I drank pretty fast myself, so I'm starting to feel the aftermath. Lightheaded and dizzy. I'm starting to feel sick, but I don't think it's the alcohol. I jump as a familiar hand lands on my shoulder. A soft enough embrace that it could be anyone trying to get my attention right now. But it isn't anyone. It's him. The someone. The only one. Fuck. I had stopped considering his arrival a long time ago. I let myself turn around, making sure to do so slowly, like I'm not expecting him. Pretend to be shocked or happy or anything other that how I actually feel. But the sinking feeling in my stomach combats anything I want to pretend I'm feeling. He felt my shoulders tense. He'll read right through a fake smile.

“Frankie!” I greet, faking a joyous exclaim. He smiles, but it's forced. He's letting me know he doesn't want to be here. But, why would he? Why would he want to come here, surrounded by fake praise for something he put together out of obligation?

“It's good to see you.” I continue. He nods.

“You too.” He agrees, now looking around the room.

“Where's your crew at?” He asks, bracing himself for the answer he's not even sure he wants. I laugh, shaking my head. Last week, Crystal said we worked better. The band, Jared and Blake, me and Jared. Everything was falling into place, she thought. Or, has everything just been falling apart and we're too blind to see it? We are stuck in a permanent state of never getting it right. Everything always falls apart. We take space, but it's too much. We come together, but it's too fast. We can never get it right. We're stuck there. Him and I. Or maybe it's just me. It's always just me.

“It's just me. I mean, I'm here with a friend, but he's taken off somewhere. So I guess, it's just me.” I conclude. He nods, and I can see that's not the answer he was expecting.

“You didn't really think we'd all show up tonight, did you?” I ask a minute later. He's leaning with both elbows on the bar, motioning the bartender over for a drink. Only, he asks for a glass of water and nothing else. I raise my eyebrow, watching him down the glass. The bartender hands him a full jug and Frankie nods to say thank you. He looks over at me and shrugs.

“I kind of hoped you would. I wanted to see everyone.” He admits, looking down at the bar. I nod.

“Crystal was here. For a bit. But, she's been running herself ragged with this new fashion line and all the interviews. So she needed to go home and get some rest.” I add, trying to give her gloating meaning. She may not be here to appreciate his reaction, but that doesn't mean he doesn't react. It's subtle, but there. I see it flicker in his eyes when he looks back. The pride.

“Yeah?” He asks, trying to hide the excitement. I nod.

“Yeah. She's doing really well for herself. Her and Charlie are even talking about engagement plans.” I fabricate. It's not entirely a lie, Charlie has mentioned it to me. But Crystal isn't aware of that yet. He's waiting until the right moment.

“How's Jared?” He asks, trying to make it sound casual. Like it's something he has no interest in. He's shifting his body weight and I can tell this has been on his mind. I smile.

“He's doing good. He's a producer, working behind the scenes. He has a new boyfriend too. He's Jared, so there will always be a hint of misery.” I joke, pausing for a response. He nods.

“Sounds like Jared.” He agrees. I laugh.

“He's happy.” I finish. Frankie nods along, smiling.

“I'm glad. He deserves to be.” He mumbles. I nod.

“He does.” I agree absentmindedly. I look out at the club. Right now, everyone feels far away. They are in a different world from me. The bartender comes over and takes away my empty glass. It was the only thing I had left to pretend to be elsewhere. Now, it's gone and I'm stuck facing the mess I've made of everything. I sigh.

“I'm sorry. I can take off if you don't want to see me. I'd understand, after everything.” He offers, standing up straight. I shake my head, briefly looking over at him.

“It's not you.” I assure, laughing. The bartender brings me another drink and I raise my eyebrow.

“I didn't ask for this.” I correct. The bartender shrugs.

“I didn't think you needed to. You seem like you need them to keep coming.” He observes, motioning towards the bathroom. Jesse is now stumbling out, with the jacket of his suit tangled. He went in there completely composed. I wonder what he got up to. But I don't have to because the girl he went in with comes out looking even worse. She has sex hair and she's pulling her dress straps back over her shoulders. I shake my head, looking back at the bartender.

“I guess I do.” I agree. He nods, then leans across the bar.

“If you have any problems, let me know. I'll get them taken care of.” He offers. At first, I think he means Jesse and a confrontation about my cheating boyfriend. How could he know any better? But I realize he's looking at Frankie. I shake my head, faking a smile.

“He's alright. But, thank you.” I assure. The bartender nods, walking to the other end of the bar. Frankie looks over at me.

“What was that about?” He asks. I shake my head, slowly sipping at the refill. It's nice to have something in my hand. It works as a distraction, though not a good one. I'm not drunk enough to forget those words he slipped so casually into the conversation. A three-word bomb he dropped and now I feel like nothing but a hollow shell. It's never hurt so much to hear those words. I never thought it would either. Once upon a time, those same words filled my stomach with butterflies and my heart with hope. Now they rip out all of the stitches that were holding me together. I guess it was my own fault for making them so easy to tear out. It's not even the words. I know he loves me. He always will. It's what they represent, what they mean. I walked away too soon, like I always do.

“Do you want to come outside for a smoke?” I ask in Frankie's direction. He raises his eyebrow, but stands up. He nods and I grab my purse off the bar. I lead the way, and he follows.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as we get outside. I light my smoke, holding the pack in his direction. He shakes his head, like I knew he would. He doesn't smoke cigarettes and I don't have the other. I shake my head, but it quickly turns into a nod.

“I've got a lot going on, I guess.” I simplify. Frankie nods, leaning against the wall. I watch him move, slow and defeated. I didn't realize until this moment that coming here was harder for him than it was for me. Jared would have had an easier time coming tonight. Of course, if he had come, we'd have spent the night laughing and drinking. We get along well when other people are around. We'd have gone home together, too. He might have gone upstairs to see Blake. Or crashed on the couch. Tomorrow morning, we'd wake up and share stories of the evening with our housemates over coffee. I bite my lip, starting to feel this anger surfacing inside my head.

“How does he think he has the right to control my life?” I bark suddenly. Frankie raises his eyebrow.

“I'm sorry?” He questions. I shake my head.

“No, I'm sorry. I'm having issues. I shouldn't make them yours. You've got your own shit to deal with.” I ramble. He nods.

“I do.” He admits. I continue nodding, almost aggressively. As if on cue, my phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my purse and check the caller I.D. Of course it's Jared calling again. He likely wants to know why I'm not home yet. He's likely waiting up until I am. I turn the phone off and shove it back to the bottom of my purse. I wish I could shove it to the bottom of the ocean right now. Frankie looks at the watch on his wrist, then at me, raising his eyebrow.

“Who is calling you in the middle of the night?” He asks. I throw my purse on the ground, though I don't know why. I shouldn't punish my purse. It didn't do anything wrong. It's just a bag, holding an object that is only upsetting me because of the person at the other end. The phone isn't to blame for Jared's bomb. Jared is to blame. Jared is to blame for letting me think he was over what we had, only to turn around and feel remorse. It's too late. Doesn't he see that? We don't work. We never did and we never could. Even Crystal said it. He has to let go of me, or I'll never let go of him.

“No one important.” I dismiss, shaking my head. Frankie nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, I never asked how you were doing these days.” He observes. I fake a smile and look in his direction.

“Peachy. Can't you tell?” I ask, running one of my hands through my hair. I'm aggressively smoking. He laughs, but it's forced. All the same, so are my smiles.

“It's just, me and this guy were dating for a bit. But, we broke up, right? Now that I might be seeing someone else, he's upset. He's jealous about the time I spend with other people. Now, he wants to talk and work things out. Then he drops those words, like they mean something. They mean nothing now.” I start rambling, raising my voice with each word. Frankie doesn't say anything, just nods silently. I forgot how good he was at just listening, never asking questions. The answers aren't always there anyway.

“Would you be offended if I,” He pauses, waiting for me to look over at him. When I do, he opens his arms, holding them out in my direction. I step into his arms, resting my head against his chest. I let out a deep breath, feeling his steady heart beat. He runs his hand over my back soothingly. He's trying to be as reassuring as he can be, even though it's far from his place to bother trying. I'm the last person he wants to see right now, but here he is. And he's the last person I want to turn to, but here I am. There's a voice in the back of my head that's telling me to go back inside. Order another drink, or maybe sixteen. Then, go home and crash. I can deal with all of this tomorrow.

But tomorrow never comes. I know that. The sun rises, but I never deal with anything. Before I even know it, we're in the back of a taxi heading to his apartment.

Chapter 18

The Morning After

I wake up with a pounding in my head that is so loud it sounds like a drum ceremony in Africa. I've felt this way before, many times. But I'm never ready for the aches to greet me. I must have had too much to drink last night, because that seems to be the pattern. I've grown wiser from my youthful days of drinking too much. I still drink just as much, but I've learned the trick to avoid a hangover. I usually drink a few bottles of water before heading to bed. This trick combats the dehydration the alcohol causes in the brain. Usually, the morning after is welcoming, with only a mild stomach irritation. I still wake up groggy and disoriented too. But there's no aching pain. This morning, I realize I never consumed my usual water. In fact, I didn't drink any. I did nothing to offer it's hydration back, no wonder it's pounding. I roll over in the bed, my hand landing on the body asleep beside me. I briefly smile to myself, letting my hand roam the familiar figure. It hits me.

I sit up as quickly as possible, without disturbing him or my aching head. I can't remember a thing about last night, but I'm not sure I want to. I obviously drank too much, there must have been a good reason. I'm never this irresponsible. I reach forward, expecting to find my cellphone. But there's no nightstand where I'm expecting one. Because this isn't the room I normally wake up in. I don't know where anything is here. I've never been. My feet drop to the ground, knocking my purse over as I pull myself out of the bed. I grab the bag and head towards the bedroom door. I feel this sudden urge to get out of here. I haven't felt the need to flee in so long, I don't even recognize it. I just avoid conflict. It's easier. I'm in the living room when I finally find my phone in my purse. There are twenty missed calls, most I assume are from Jared. His number is the only one showing. There's a text message from Crystal, asking where I got to last night. I'd reply and set her mind at ease, if I knew what to say. But, what am I going to tell her? She'd be so hurt by it. And Jared... What am I going to tell Jared? He can't know. Ever. This would destroy him in a way I don't think he'll bounce back from. Things are finally starting to work out for the two of them. I can't be what undoes it all.

As I'm staring at the missed calls, Jared's number comes up on the screen. I’m staring at the screen. I don't know what I'll stay to him. I told him I would be home soon. I could say I went back to Jesse's, but what if he called Jesse already? Jesse would tell him that he lost track of me. If Jared asked why, he'd dismiss his sex in the bathroom stall and say he was busy. Jared might believe he was seeing someone else. I'd have nothing to say. I have to call Jesse. That's the solution. I dismiss the call from Jared, and wait a minute. I'm still standing in the living room when I dial Jesse's number. I have to come up with something to tell everyone. Anything but the truth. I'm at the front door when the phone starts ringing. I reach for the handle, but my hand drops to my side. It's stupid rushing out before he's even awake. I've grown past these days. Or I thought I had. With anyone else it wouldn't matter. But it does. I can't leave before he wakes up. He's probably awake already. He always woke up when there were changes in his environment. He's waiting to see if I leave or stay. I sigh, turning around. I head into the kitchen and start looking through the cupboards. He doesn't have a normal coffee pot. He has a single serving coffee pot. He also doesn't have normal coffee, just flavored stuff. I put a hazelnut flavored coffee pouch in the pot and brew myself a cup. The smell is divine, just the right kick for the way my head is aching. I'm not sure how much of it is the alcohol though. The phone rings three more times before Jesse finally answers it. He sounds as groggy as I feel. He had fun too.

“We need to talk.” I demand, sitting at the island in the kitchen.

“What's going on? Where did you go last night? You were there, then you weren't.” He starts rambling.

“Did you talk to Jared? Or Crystal? Or anyone for that matter?” I ask, putting one of my hands over my face.

“No. Jared called me a few times. I haven't been able to answer. I was busy.” He pauses from the other end. I nod to myself.

“What's wrong? Did something happen?” He asks. I half-laugh.

“I did something stupid.” I offer. I hear something fall in the background of his apartment.

“What did you do?” He asks, concerned. I shake my head.

“I can't answer that. This is one of those need-to-know basis situations. But I need a favor from you.” I start. He sighs.

“Yeah. Okay. What do you need?” He agrees. I nod to myself.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone, asks what happened last night, we had too much to drink and went back to your apartment. We hooked up. It was nothing serious, but it happened. Do you understand?” I explain. He's quiet as he's running things over in his own head.

“How is Jared going to feel?” He asks, under his breath. I sigh.

“It's better than the truth.” I answer. He's quiet again.

“Yeah. So, anyone? Do I wait for them to ask or just offer the information?” He pauses again. I think about the answer.

“Would you normally brag about a girl coming home with you?” It's mostly rhetorical. I know he does it all the time. He's classy about it though. He never mentions names or details. But he always has a smile on his face and seems in a brighter mood the morning after.

“Just pretend it was me this time.” I demand. He lets out a muffled laugh, trying not to wake his companion. I wonder if it's the same girl from the bathroom stall, or if he found another one throughout the night. Women do throw themselves at him because he's smart, charming and good looking. He's the right amount of attractive without coming across as a jerk. He's the whole package and women love that. I shake my head, trying not to picture who he is with.

“It was, last time.” He offers, turning it into some sort of joke. Only him and I will get the punchline. I always told him to make sure we acted normal. I didn't want anyone to know, because they might think I was biased about his production abilities. I didn't want them second guessing our professional relationship because we also have a personal one. But I'm willing to take the risk. I'm sure this way, Crystal won't care. Charlie won't care. The production team might, but I don't care about their opinions. Jared will be jealous either way. He made it perfectly clear he's already suspicious. It's only going to confirm his belief, convince him I was lying. It's still better than the truth, I think. The truth is so ugly, I can't face it myself.

“I'll see you later.” I dismiss, hanging up the phone.

One of the reasons I always go out with Jesse is because it's smart to go home with someone you know. There's a trust in that decision, you can feel safe. It's stupid to go home with someone you thought you knew. Someone who ripped your heart out and threw it on the ground, casually stepping over it like it never mattered anyway. Like his name wasn't etched in the flesh, the blood wasn't spilling in the shape of a heart. No. That, that is stupid.

The steps on the wooden floorboards are amplified as the old wood creaks. I turn, only slightly, to see him coming down the hallway. I fake a smile, but I know he's reading right through it. He looks at me, then over at the coffee pot, still steaming from the cup of coffee I've already finished during my brief phone call.

“It seemed rude to leave.” I mutter. He nods, sitting beside me.

“I'm glad you didn't.” He assures, reaching for me. I pull back.

“I do have to get going. I have, stuff, to deal with.” I trail off. He nods, standing back up. He walks behind me, making himself a coffee. Then, he leans against the counter. He has his cup in his hand and he's staring at the back of my head.

“Don't let me stop you.” He offers, motioning towards the front door as I look over my shoulder at him. I nod, picking my purse up off the table. My phone is still in my hand, which is squeezing tightly around it. I start towards the door, briefly looking back at him. His shoulders have slumped and I can tell I'm offending him by leaving. I've hit a nerve. In my defense, I never meant to be here in the first place. It doesn't feel right, but neither does leaving. Right now, nothing feels right. I just need to get out of this situation. He is clouding my judgment. I stop at the door again.

“I'd like to see you again.” He calls from behind me. I exhale deeply as I hear his coffee cup meeting the counter. I can hear his footsteps, slowly walking towards me. I want to pull the door open and bolt. I mean, what exactly was I thinking coming here? Why did I wait for him to wake up? Why didn't I just leave when I had the chance? The message would have been clear. He would have known it was a mistake. He wouldn't pursue me. It would have been done and over with. But I didn't leave. I stayed. I've given him the impression that I want to see him again. Maybe I do.

Chapter 19

Late

“I'm sorry I'm so late.” I call, rushing through the studio door. Blake is in the middle of his vocal warm ups. I can tell because he's jumping up and down. I'm not as late as I thought I was then. They haven't started recording yet, which means I'm not interrupting anything. My eyes briefly meet Jared's before darting around the room for anything else to look at. Crystal is tapping her foot in my direction. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she's looking at me with a stern expression.

“I hear you had an interesting night.” She hints, her foot creating a rhythm now. I look over at Jesse, who is in the booth listening to Blake. He smiles in my direction, nodding. I look back at Crystal.

“Oh, you did, did you?” I ask, sitting down on the arm of the couch. Jared's sitting at the other end, but he looks instantly uncomfortable being around me. Crystal starts laughing, breaking her stern look. Her arms drop to her side and she walks over to me.

“Come on. You know Jesse can't keep his mouth shut. He was going to tell us.” She reminds me. I nod. Yes, I knew he would tell them. That's exactly why I called him. He can make this problem go away. At least for now. It's going to get more difficult. But, I'll cross that bridge when we get there.

“Yeah, I had an interesting night.” I agree. She nods, waiting for me to continue. I raise my eyebrow.

“I don't kiss and tell.” I dismiss. She shakes her head.

“I don't care about Jesse.” She argues, shaking her hand at me.

“What happened? With you know who...” She asks, briefly looking over at Jared. If Jared knows that we were all invited to that party, that we went to see Frankie, she knows he doesn't want to hear his name. She knows he's not ready. So did I, which is exactly why I lied to him in the first place. I laugh, internally, at this comment to myself. I was lying to protect him. I once said we don't lie to protect others, but to protect ourselves from the guilt of hurting or wronging them. I'm not lying to Jared so he's not slighted. I'm lying because I don't want to deal with the aftermath. It's selfish. Lying is always a selfish action. Yet, it's exactly what I'm doing. I'm even making one of our producers go along with the lie. Now, he has to take the dirty looks from Jared, who suspects we've been together this entire time. He was already afraid that Jesse was taking his place. The place he left wide open, might I add. He wasn't forced from his place in my life, he walked away. He left it open. He can't expect it will stay that way forever. I haven't been single since I was a preteen, so I wouldn't know how. I'm cool with emotionally alone. There is less drama that way. But, a woman has needs.

“He actually never showed.” I mutter, letting myself sound disappointed. And I am, but only in myself.

“Really?” She squeaks. I shrug, watching her eyes light up.

“I guess he didn't feel like celebrating. I mean, this album isn't his most prized possession. It was just something to give the label, so he could give us the other one.” I ramble. She nods.

“Yeah, I guess that must be hard news to swallow.” She admits, smiling widely. I laugh at her enthusiasm.

“I don't think he sees it that way, you know. I think he's happy to let us have it.” I add. She looks over at me, shaking her head.

“To be honest, I don't care how he sees it. I don't care how he sees anything. I wanted to see him last night, tell him how much better we are without him. But you know what? He doesn't even deserve the acknowledgment.” She rambles. I nod, absentmindedly.

“He tried to cut my wings, but watch me fly away.” She gloats, flapping her arms like a bird as she walks away from me. I shake my head. I'll let her think whatever helps her heal.

“What is she talking about?” Jared asks, now drawing my attention over to him. I don't look at him for more than a second, but I can tell he hasn't slept. There are bags under his eyes, making him look older. I can't think about that right now.

“Frankie signed over the rights to the concept album.” I answer. The couch sinks as he leans forward.

“How?” He asks, but I think it's a general question.

“We're on the same label. He scrapped the album, then put together something else to release.” I offer as an explanation. Jared leans back.

“Wow.” He mumbles. Crystal stops flying around the room.

“Aren't you excited?” She asks, dropping her arms. He shrugs.

“I guess. It's not our style. We can't play the songs live. It just seems like a waste of good music.” He tries to reason. Crystal shakes her head walking over to him. She drops down on the coffee table in front of him and takes both his hands in hers.

“You're missing the point. We won.” She adds. He shrugs.

“I just don't see it that way. It doesn't feel like a victory. More like a brush off.” He mumbles. Crystal shakes her head, letting him take his hands back from her. She stands up and starts walking around the room. She pauses, letting out a deep sigh.

“It can be a victory if you let it be.” She insists. I briefly look over at Jared. He shakes his head and looks down at the couch. Somehow, I don't think the album is what he feels a loss over.

Chapter 20

New Release

“Blake, you're a genius.” Christine announces, dropping her hands down on the table. She briefly looks over at him, smiling widely. She's still proud she picked him. He just nods, smiling to himself. He's proud of what he's done, and he should be. I nod, still listening to the album playing in the background. Jared wasn't excited about the concept album because of the sound. Blake took it upon himself to rewrite the entire thing to fit the direction him and Crystal wanted. Yesterday, he handed me a rough recording of a few of the songs. He said he could have the rest done in the next few days. I thought nothing of it, until we got to the boardroom an hour ago.

“You know what this means, right?” She adds. I shrug.

“A Christmas release?” I ask, faking a smile. Christine sighs.

“Don't look at it that way. We're not rushing a crappy album you put together last minute. We're rushing a masterpiece.” She argues, emphasizing her belief in the project. I nod.

“She's right. This is some of the best music I've heard. I'm not even a fan of this genre. But, it's got edge and charisma. I don't know how Blake put his personality in the music, but he did.” Jesse agrees, looking over at Blake. He blushes, looking down at the table. I laugh, but I know Jesse is right. All Blake did was change the music, yet his personality is radiating through the words too. It's like he was destined to sing this music. There are two sides of Blake, I've learned. The musical side of him is confident and bold, gets in your face. But the other side is just a regular person who is shy around new people and gets nervous when given compliments. He goes back and fourth between the two sides of himself, but he does it with such a grace. He's not balancing, he's gliding.

“It means less work, less studio time.” Gibson adds, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on his lip.

“Are you saying we do this instead of what we've been working on?” Crystal now asks from the end of the table. Her and Blake have been mostly quiet. Jared chose not to come to the meeting. He hasn't spoken to me since I told him about the album.

“Yeah. I mean, everything is written for this one. You don't have to figure anything out. You don't have to rewrite anything, because Blake has done it all. All you have to do is record.” Gibson explains. Crystal is quiet, biting the side of her lip. Then she smiles brightly.

“Yeah, that does sound awesome.” She agrees, looking over at Blake. He's quiet, so she smacks his shoulder. He laughs.

“It's not really my band. It's not my place to say. You hired me as a vocalist, not for opinions.” He adds, looking across the table at me. I shake my head, lightly laughing.

“Yes, but your opinions have been too good to ignore so far. Your ideas are moving this band forward. I'll start disregarding them when they stop being helpful.” I smile. He nods.

“I'd be happy to record the songs. There's such a chemistry in the music.” He announces. I nod.

“I think that's the result of the personal relationships in the band at the time.” I joke, looking at Crystal. She's still smiling, now dancing in her seat. The way she's bouncing has the chair squeaking with every movement. I laugh, looking over at Christine. She shakes her head.

“Personal or professional, there is chemistry.” She dismisses. She doesn't want to talk about personal relationships at all. She wasn't happy this morning, when I called her. She was upset after finding out about Jesse. She said I was compromising the project and I told her I was ensuring it's future. She didn't have to understand. No one does. Even I don't even understand.

“Where's Jared?” Christine asks, looking around.

“He's at work, where he always is.” Gibson announces, like we should all know that. Jared has been working less and less since the album started coming together. He wanted to devote his time to making something great. Now, it's made already. He can have all the free time he wants. The thought hits me like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean. If we're recording this album, instead of working on a new one, everyone can be in the studio at different times. We don't need to be together to record. I don't have to see Jared at the studio anymore. I can go when he's at home. I'll only have to see him there, and I'll make myself scarce.

“Will he be into this?” Christine asks, looking at me. I shrug.

“I don't know. I hardly talk to him anymore.” I dismiss. She nods, looking around the table for answers.

“He wasn't excited about the album. Said it was a waste of time.” Crystal answers, looking at me with a sad expression. I ignore her, playing with the paperclip I've taken from the table.

“Hardly.” Jesse mutters, still listening to the music intently.

“He hasn’t heard this version.” I correct, motioning to the speakers. Christine raises her eyebrow.

“He hasn't heard these?” Her voice cracks. We shake our heads.

“No. Blake showed me yesterday, Crystal heard it on the drive here. Jared has been missing in action.” I correct. Gibson looks over at me with a sharp expression on his face.

“I wonder why.” He states, now looking at Jesse. I shake my head. Of course Jared has been talking to Gibson. He's mostly neutral and he also hates Jesse. Jared can't talk to Blake. There's nothing worse for a new relationship than talking about issues with your ex. He can't talk to Crystal, because he knows she'll tell me. She's too close to the situation. She saw what I went through during Jared's bender. She knows there's been a shift and she's making sure to stand on my side. She's loyal. I don't deserve her loyalty, but she doesn't know that yet.

“Back to the subject.” Christine demands, throwing her hands down on the table. Gibson looks at her, almost apologetically.

“Are we in agreement that we're going to press this?” She asks, motioning up to the speakers. Everyone nods.

“Can you finish it in time?” She now asks, looking directly at Blake. He nods, still smiling.

“Absolutely.” He answers confidently. When it comes to his musical abilities, he doubts nothing.

“Okay. This is the album. The album.” Christine pauses for dramatic effect. Everyone stays quiet, letting her continue.

“It's your debut, so we're going to want to create a buzz about the release.” She continues, now looking at Crystal.

“You're going to answer questions now. In fact, don't even wait for people to ask. Start talking. Say the album will be out in time for Christmas.” She pauses, looking at me. I smirk. I knew her idea was to have the album ready before Christmas. We both know it will sell more copies over the holidays.

“Okay.” Crystal agrees, nodding excitedly. The atmosphere is picking up on her excitement. Maybe it's the general excitement of the album.

“Okay.” Christine agrees.

“We're going to put together a press release, have it ready for tomorrow. On Thursday, you guys need to hold a press conference. Answer questions, introduce Blake. You know the drill. Jared has to be available. Charlie has to come up.” Jesse rambles. Crystal nods.

“I'll call him right now.” She offers, standing up from the table. She heads into the hallway, Blake following closely. His photography never led him to a boardroom, to these conversations. This is the side of the industry he's unfamiliar with. If he has questions, he'll ask Crystal. Her relaxed demeanor always makes her easy to talk to.

“Is Jared ready for a big spectacle?” I ask, looking towards Gibson. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you?” He counters. I look over at Jesse.

“Am I?” I ask to myself. There's a silence in the room now.

“Are they going to ask?” I mumble. Christine sighs, nodding.

“About Frankie? Yeah. The press has been dying to hear what you guys have to say. I mean, he made his statement already. They know his side of the story. They want yours.” She answers. I know he made a statement. He said we parted ways due to creative differences. He said as a band, we weren't in sync and wanted to go in different directions. He lied through his teeth. He's good at that.

“I'll brief them before the conference, okay? Tell them what they can and can't ask about. I know Frankie is a sore subject for you.” Jesse offers, smiling in my direction. I nod.

“Okay.” I agree. Gibson clears his throat rolling his eyes.

“She can't have special treatment.” He dismisses, motioning to me. I raise my eyebrow, now crossing my arms.

“Okay, I get it Gibson. You're not happy with me right now. But, this isn't about my personal relationships. None of us want to be asked about Frankie. Crystal doesn't want to deal with it. Jared isn't ready to handle the questions. We're all still healing. It's not just me.” I bark, slamming my hands down on the table. Gibson doesn't say anything. Christine looks down at the table.

“This conversation is over.” I bark, storming out of the room.

Chapter 21

Press Conference

“Okay, Blake, this is your first press conference. Do you know how these things go?” Jesse asks, straightening the dress shirt Blake is wearing. Blake shakes his head, then nods.

“I mean, I've been on that side of the camera.” He jokes, motioning to where the cameras are set up. Jesse nods, stepping back. He nods to himself, looking Blake up and down.

“It's a little different, being on this side.” I offer, motioning to the table that's already set up. Blake nods, shaking his arms. If I asked, he'd say he was loosening his muscles. But I don't bother asking what he's doing anymore. He has many quirks, I've come to realize. I don't need to bother him by asking about every single one. He does what he has to, keeps himself in check. Good for him.

“A bunch of lights in your face, blinding you. Cameras staring into your soul. Stupid questions that don't need to be asked, but they ask them all the time.” Jared mumbles, fidgeting with the pencil in his hand. He's already sitting at the table, with his notebook in front of himself. He's been drawing in the margins, mostly. Blake laughs.

“Not a fan?” He asks. Jared shakes his head, half-smiling.

“Never was.” He adds. Blake nods, looking around the room. Crystal is sitting at the table already, with her phone in her hand. Charlie is supposed to be here, but, he isn't yet.

“Taxi stuck in traffic.” Crystal offers, looking up from her phone. I nod, looking around. Jesse let everyone set up the cameras, but they aren't rolling yet. Still, I see Jared's point about press conferences. Jesse told me he briefed all the reporters waiting in the hallway. He'll let them in when everyone is ready. Until then, they are on the other side of the glass. Jesse has the curtains down, so we can pretend they aren't out there, waiting to get a hold of us. It's nerve-wracking. I sigh, heading into the room off the one we're in. It's smaller, more private. There's nothing in it but Crystal's purse on a small table. I think the equipment is stored here. But right now, it's all out there.

I watch Blake from behind the two way glass of this room. He isn't nervous at all. He's ready to face the vultures. If anything, he's excited. He can't know how rough this is on the other end. But, he'll find out. Or he won't. This kid has already proven to be more than I expected. I wasn't sure how he would handle himself, when Charlie first picked him. But Charlie is a great judge of character, as it turns out. Even though he's hardly here, he made the right choice. Blake was the perfect addition. He's handled himself like a professional so far. Maybe because he spent so many years watching people who couldn't. He's ready to be a front man, because he's learned what to do and what not to do. He can answer questions about the musical process, how we work together. He can answer what it's like getting to join an already famous band. He gets that one a lot from our friends anyway. This is routine. He can't answer personal questions about the relationships in the band, because he doesn't know. I'm not sure he even knows about my not-so-past-relationship with Jared. Either way, he keeps the perfect beat within the group. When Crystal and Charlie are fighting, Blake can change the atmosphere. Even with Jared giving me the cold shoulder, Blake makes it comfortable. He's great at striking up conversations. He's great at keeping everything together. Good for him.

I feel my phone vibrating and pull it from my pocket. I recognize the number, but I'm not sure about letting the call come through. I look around the empty room. I sigh, answering the phone.

“I'm just about to do a press conference.” I greet. He laughs from the other end of the phone. It's like music to my ears.

“Yeah, I've heard. You've got to show off the new singer, after all.” He jokes. I laugh, looking through the glass at Blake.

“Exactly. We've got to get his face on those billboards, maybe replace a few of yours.” I tease. He laughs, taking it as the joke it was meant to be. That's good. I'm glad he can laugh about this disaster. I wish I could say the same about anyone else.

“Is he as cute?” He asks, a hint of playfulness to his remark.

“Maybe even cuter.” I offer, my eyes finding themselves on Blake. Jesse has let the independent journalists into the room already. The independent journalists and representatives for rock magazines that don't sell millions of copies a year. We like those journalists, because they don't ask stupid questions. They want to know about musical influences, about how it feels working together. They want to know about the creative process and the dynamics in the band. They will write about the important stuff. They still have a personal feeling to them. It feels more like talking to friends than journalists. They always know what to say, and what subjects they need to avoid. They aren't vultures, like the bigger names. They don't want a piece of our souls. They just want to talk. I always let them get a crack at the band before the vultures come in. It's only fair. They do their job and they do it well. They praise what deserves praise and tear apart what needs to be torn open. They are respectful of us, so we are respectful of them. Blake is enjoying himself, and I can tell. He's bonding with these writers. It's amazing how he does that. He walks into a room and makes it his. Him and Crystal together are show-stoppers. They could walk into a dark theater to a sold out show and the lights would come on, turn from the stage to them and illuminate everything they are. It's more metaphorical than literal. But it's exactly what seems to happen whenever they are out together. Luckily, they are finding more time to spend together now that Blake is down to one job. I'm glad he actually quit the other one. He needs to be putting his focus where it matters. That job was never going to open doors for him. Not the way we can. Even if the band is temporary, only destined to fall apart, Blake will have options. He'll have choices he never imagined having. Something new and exciting. Something worth devoting his time to. After all, what's truly important in life is what you create and get to leave behind, long after you’re gone. A menial job leaves nothing. His art, his music, that's his legacy. It deserves to see the light.

“Yeah right. You're just trying to make me jealous.” Frankie jokes from the other end of the phone. I laugh, shaking my head. I can see the door to the boardroom opening. Charlie is walking in, pushing his way through the vultures gathering around. Jesse greets him at the door and guides him to his seat. He looks towards the glass, and I know. It's my turn now. The last one in, the first one out. I sigh.

“It's show time. I'll call later.” I offer, waiting for his response.

“Radical.” He hangs up first, like he always does. He knows I tend to get distracted otherwise, and I don't have the time today. I laugh to myself, putting the phone back in my purse. I think he's the only person still using the word “radical” in casual conversation. I like it though. It makes me feel nostalgic for my childhood. If there's any point in missing something so dysfunctional.

I straighten the blouse I'm wearing and place my purse on the table behind me. I leave it behind as I walk through the doors, waving to the journalists who have already started writing notes down. Some of them have pieces of paper, while others are using digital devices. I motion towards the door and the vultures make their way into the room. They head to their cameras, each one flicking on at different times. This is how it goes. The reporters always make a bigger scene than we do. We sit here, comfortable and patient. They rush around each other, like animals. We're arranged nicely, like the flowers at a wedding. The reporters look like the open bar after said wedding; trashed and scattered. Blake straightens his back as the cameras turn on. The little red flashing light above the lens lets everyone know; we're live. Good. I lean back in my seat, which is at the end of the table. Crystal is beside me, with Blake beside her. Jesse has put Blake in the middle, since he is the front man. Jared is on the other side of Blake, with Charlie sitting at the other end of the table. We open by reading the press release that Christine put together. We introduce Blake, announce the upcoming album, then ask the present audience if there are any questions and every hand flies up.

The first questions are about how we found Blake. He explains the open call we had. He jokes about being late, gathering a laughter from his adoring audience. Charlie announces that it was ultimately his decision to welcome Blake to the band. He adds that initially Crystal and I were skeptical. Blake does have a lot riding on him, especially given what we're used to. They go on to ask if Blake has been living up to the expectations we have, given the talent we're used to. Charlie agrees he has surpassed every expectation we've had for him. Some of the journalists are new. They ask how the band originally formed, what brought us together in the first place. Those questions are ignored. Someone asks if we're going to have the same sound. Crystal answers that we are looking for a new direction with our music, stepping away from the sounds of the past. The briefing seems to be working. No one is asking about Frankie directly. I'm pleased, but mostly on auto-pilot. I haven't answered any of the questions. I just nod along to the answers. I'm letting Blake do most of the talking, since it's his role as the front man. But my stomach turns.

“Did the band split because of creative differences?” I sigh.

“There were many influences.” I dismiss.

“There are rumors the separation was because of personal relationships forming within the band.” The voice continues.

“Those are just rumors. The decision to discontinue the band was entirely professional.” I repeat.

“Isn't it true that you and Jared were together, despite your engagement to your singer?” They ask.

“No personal questions or you will be asked to leave.” Jesse calls out, silencing the voice. I sigh, shaking my head. I sink into my seat, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. The questions steer back towards Blake. Someone asks about his vocal range, if he's had formal training. He answers he's self-taught, joking that his talent makes up for his training. The atmosphere lightens. I'm grateful, but it's short-lived.

“Blake, how does it feel to be replacing Frankie?” I sit up straight, looking over at Blake. His shoulders have gone tense and there's a vacant look in his eyes. I've never seen him so lifeless. I motion from Jesse to the crowd in front of us.

“The band would like the focus to be on them. They are moving forward without Frankie. This decision is to be respected by everyone. This press conference is now over.” He announces, moving to stand in front of the table. He's met with a chorus of displeased groans and complaints. He doesn't listen, shoving everyone out of the room. One of the journalists who was already in the room asks to stay. After talking to Blake, Jesse allows him to hang around. I head back to the other room. Jesse follows, closing the door.

“I'm sorry. I thought I made it clear that they weren't allowed to ask personal questions or mention Frankie.” He apologizes. I shake my head, looking into the other room. The journalist left is a shy kid who doesn't look a day over twenty. He's taken the chair I was sitting on and he's now sitting across from the band. He's asking questions and making notes on a piece of paper. But no one seems tense about his presence. I turn my back to them, looking at Jesse.

“You did what you could. The vultures are never respectful of boundaries.” I dismiss, shaking my head. He nods.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. I shrug, briefly looking over.

“Who is the kid?” I ask, motioning behind myself. He shrugs.

“I don't know. I asked who he was affiliated with, but, he said no one.” He answers, looking back at me. I raise my eyebrow.

“No one?” I ask. He nods.

“He's just asking questions for the sake of asking questions?” I question, struggling to understand. Jesse nods.

“It would appear so. I mean, he's likely lying. He probably wants an inside scoop. I don't know why Blake wanted to keep him around.” He rambles. I look back at the group. Charlie has a huge smile across his face and he's staring at Crystal lovingly. I can only guess they're talking about their relationship now. It's all sunshine and roses when other people are around. But how much of it is reality? I only see the distance myself. I notice that Jared is looking towards us. I sigh.

“It's not your fault the band fell apart. You know that, right?” Jesse offers. I laugh, faking a smile.

“It is, but I don't have a guilt complex. Sometimes, things need to fall apart to be built bigger and better. Right?” I suggest. He nods, but I'm not sure if he's actually agreeing.

“Did you,” I pause. Jesse raises his eyebrow.

“What?” He questions.

“Did you notice the reaction Blake had when they said Frankie's name?” I ask. Jesse shakes his head.

“You and Jared tensed up too.” He observes. I nod. I was too far from Jared to notice, but I expected it. Jared hasn't faced Frankie yet, so he's still sore about the subject. I have my own reasons for my reaction. But, what was Blake's reason? I watch Blake playing with the button on his dress shirt. It's a nervous habit of his. Come to think of it, it's a nervous habit of Frankie's too. Then it hits me like a brick. I know who Blake is and why he had that reaction.

Chapter 22

Realization

“How could you not tell me?” I bark, grabbing Crystal's arm. We headed home after the press conference and Jared went straight to his bedroom. Blake was still full of energy and had a million questions about the band. I hadn't realized that Blake was a bit of a shut in. He didn't watch television, listen to the radio, or even go online. The only reason he heard about the audition was because a friend of his suggested it. Blake knows nothing he isn't told directly. The only exception is that he loves to read. So he's full of useless information, like the mating habits of species we don't even have on this continent. It turned out he didn't know anything about our band or the history. He didn't even know there was a band before. He just responded to an audition call on a whim. He had no idea who we were, or the level of fame we had. He had no idea what he was getting into. Now, he could go online and find out everything. He can fill in the blanks, even read Frankie's press statement about the split. Now, he knows a bit more about the ship he boarded blindly. I should have told him, before the press conference. I should have prepared him. But I guess I just assumed he knew something about our history. Charlie decided to fill him in, using mostly details Crystal had shared. Crystal and I headed to go pick up dinner. I only went along with her for the chance to talk. Now, we're standing outside in the middle of the sidewalk. She raises her eyebrow looking at me.

“Are you on drugs? If you are, I want whatever you're tripping on. It looks like fun.” She jokes. I sigh, shaking my head.

“Does this look like fun to you?” I ask. She sighs.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” She insists, sighing in a helpless way. She pouts at me and I let go of her arm. She shakes it, like I might have hurt her. I might have.

“Blake?” I ask, crossing my arms. She raises an eyebrow.

“What about him? God, you're acting crazy.” She observes. I step in front of her, blocking her movement. I study her face for a reaction, but I only see complete confusion on her features. She has no idea what I'm talking about, or she's a great actress.

“Blake is Frankie's ex.” I announce. Crystal's eyes go wide.

“No way.” She argues. I nod.

“Yeah. Both lived in California. Both were tour photographers. That can't be a coincidence.” I state. She looks like she's considering the possibility. Then, she shakes her head.

“How on Earth did you come to this conclusion anyway?” She dismisses. I shake my head.

“Blake froze when he heard his name.” I offer. She laughs.

“So did you and Jared. Even I did.” She continues. I nod.

“Exactly. Why did we have that reaction? Because we have history with him.” I hint. She's quiet.

“I guess it's possible.” She shrugs. I raise my eyebrow.

“Possible?” I question. She nods, stepping back from me.

“I can't say for sure, I wouldn't know. I never met Blake.” She dismisses, now walking around me.

“You never met him?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“No. I just knew his name. I didn't know what he did for a living, until you told me. I knew nothing about him.” She answers. My eyebrow stays raised, staring at her.

“You lived with Frankie, but never met his boyfriend?” I ask.

“To be honest, I didn't know anything about Frankie either.” She confesses. She quickly covers her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter. She hasn't changed between now and the press conference. She has three rings on each finger, decorated to the nines like a doll in a dollhouse. She wanted to look perfect on television, for all those who might be watching her shine. I only bothered dressing up because Jesse insisted I look professional. The second we got home, I changed into jeans and t-shirt. It's more comfortable for me to dress casually. I don't like to feel like a spectacle, the way she does.

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head. As she does, some of the strands of her up-do fall down over her shoulders.

“I met Frankie a week before I met you.” She answers. My jaw drops.

“I thought the two of you were old friends or something.” I confess. She shakes her head again.

“Nope. I met him one night, at a bar. It was the night David left. We hadn't been living together very long anyway. I mean, we thought we were ready to take that step, but, obviously we weren't. I'll admit, I was a mess that night. Frankie brought me home. I told him I would be on the street soon and he offered to help me pay the bills. I was drunk so, of course I agree. Then he came over the next day with some stuff and I figured, what the hell? He was cute, seemed trustworthy.” She rambles. I laugh, entirely out of disbelief. This is why Frankie thought she needed someone looking out for her.

“You told me David had left a long time ago.” I correct her. She shrugs, spinning in a circle.

“It made it easier to deal with, disassociating from time.” She offers. I shake my head, trying to come to terms.

“So, that’s the infamous Blake. Mr let's get married and adopt a bunch of dogs and live happily ever after.” Crystal jokes. I nod.

“He's also Mr just a sidebar until the real love of my life comes around to the idea of being together.” I mumble. Crystal nods.

“Oh, that's right. Frankie left Blake because of you, didn't he?” She asks. I nod slowly, looking around the empty streets.

“Yeah. I broke that little paradise. I'm good at that, it seems.” I continue mumbling, finally starting to walk towards the restaurant. She shrugs as she follows along beside me.

“Oh, Frankie is going to love seeing us on a billboard with Blake then.” She announces, suddenly sounding excited. She starts skipping forward, clearly accomplished. I sigh.

“Yeah, but how is Blake going to feel?” I ask, more to myself. Crystal stops walking and looks at me.

“Are you worried?” She asks. I shrug.

“Shouldn't I be?” I question. She laughs, shaking her head.

“Come on, Blake isn't going to be upset.” She assures.

“I'm not so sure about that. I ruined the future he thought he had, for absolutely nothing.” I correct. She nods.

“True. But you also gave him a better future than he could have imagined for himself. I'd say that's going to tip the odds in your favor.” She insists, clapping her hands together. That's her way of signaling that she's over the conversation. I follow the rest of the way in silence. I hope Blake sees it the same way.

Chapter 23

Oblivion

“Hey, can we talk?” A voice calls from the other side of the door. I don't answer, but he doesn't wait for a response, either. I take a deep breath, rocking my head back and fourth.

“I didn't say you could come in.” I observe, briefly looking over at him. He shakes his head.

“I knew you wouldn't.” He answers. I nod, continuing to shove things into my suitcase. I've been torn about leaving, but, decided it was best for now. There's too much tension in the house and I'm the only one it falls on. Some might say that means it's all in my head. Maybe it is. But that just means my head needs space. Time. Things I can't give it while I'm here.

“You've been avoiding me all week.” He accuses, leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway. I nod, trying not to look at him. There's a pain I can't describe every time I see him. It's been that way since the night of the release party. Well, since he dropped that bomb. I'm trying to get over it. I know it meant nothing. It was an accident. A habit that hasn't had enough time to be broken yet. I know that. I tell myself that every time I see him. He didn't mean it. But, maybe that's what makes it hurt the most.

“I know.” I agree. I didn't realize it had only been a week. So much has happened, from the album to the press release. It's just been too crazy to keep track of. I've only been home twice this week. He noticed. I'm not sure anyone else did. He calls me all the time, but I rarely answer. When I do, I make sure I'm too busy to entertain a full conversation. It's not even that I don't want to talk to him, it's that I don't know what to say to him. I haven't since the night of the release party. I've made idle conversation when I absolutely had to. Out in public, we still have appearances to keep up. But, behind closed doors, I can't even concentrate enough to articulate a single word. Let alone hold a conversation. I sigh, shaking my head. I can't think right now. He's too distracting. That's why I need space.

“I just want to know,” He starts, trying to cross a bridge I've long closed down. I don't say anything in response, hoping my silence will be enough to convey my lack of interest in this conversation. But it isn't. He steps forward, putting his hand on the top of the suitcase. He slowly closes it, so I pull my hands down to my sides.

“What's going on?” He asks. His voice is laced with genuine concern. It's funny, if he was truly concerned, he would have been more careful about his actions and his words.

“I'm just trying to help.” He adds, slowly stepping backwards. I've never known him to be confrontational, but I can tell he's not backing down. So I'll have to give him a reason to.

“Then fuck off and leave me alone.” I bark. My patience has worn thin, I think the thinnest it has ever been. It's worn to oblivion, close to being nonexistent now. Just like the rest of me. He's not to blame, he's just clumsy. It's never been his fault and I know that. It's just me, myself and I, set on self-destruct. That's what Samuel never understood about our relationship. It was never Hunter. It was never Luke. It was always me. I'm in love with disaster and misery. There's not a ray of sunlight in my heart that wants to fall in a love that's going to last. I shake my head and open the suitcase back up.

“Where are you going?” He now asks. He's back to leaning against the wall, but he's not leaving. I grab something from the drawer behind me and toss it into the suitcase.

“I'm going to stay at a hotel for a while.” It's not a lie. I was going to Frankie's. But, we decided the best lies are the ones you can't get caught in. So I'm staying at a hotel down the street from his apartment. It's not like I can't afford it. Besides, it'll be nice to be off the grid for a bit. It might remind me of the good old days, when I had no one to answer to and did live in hotels. I don't miss my childhood one bit. It just seems golden compared to the present.

“Why?” He asks, still looking directly at me. I shoot him a look that says he has no right to ask. Hunter would look down at the ground, pretend it's not happening. But Jared doesn't budge. His voice is desperate and laced with pain and frustration. This is exactly what he wanted a few short months ago. Space. Time. I wasn't able to give it to him the way he needed. I thought he was getting better, but I was wrong. I was holding on, not him. Now, it's time to let go.

“When we got to New York, you said you needed space, remember?” I recall, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks at me, nodding slowly. He goes to talk, but I put my finger up.

“I didn't understand what you meant. I thought I had given you enough, by giving you your freedom. But, I didn't. I didn't realize that freedom and space are two different things. You never got the space you needed to find yourself. Or the time you needed to heal.” I look over at him. He looks down.

“We need to heal, Jared. We need space.” I finish, looking at the floor myself. He nods and I expect he's going to be one foot out the door. He's going to surrender, because he knows there's no winning this argument. But he doesn't move. He's not going to. He gets a curl in his lips and his teeth bite into the skin.

“Do you think by ignoring this, it's all just going to go away? Because it won't.” He asks sharply. I look over.

“Ignoring what?” I ask. He motions between the two of us.

“This.” He states. I look down at the floor.

“I'm not ignoring anything. We tried again, like we always do. We fucked it up again, like we always do. I don't know what the options are here.” I admit, looking around the room.

“So you're just going to leave. Again. Like you always do.” He observes. I look over at him. There's a defiance in his eyes. He came ready for this confrontation. This is the first time he's ever done this. I used to wish he'd show life. That he would try and force answers out of me. Only now, I see that I don't have any.

“I don't know what you want from me.” I dismiss, pulling my feet onto the box spring. I rest my elbows against my knees and put my head in my hands. He takes a step closer.

“I just want to know where your head is. I don't want to see you destroying yourself. I don't want you shutting me out either. I care about you. I,” He pauses, and I quickly look up. It's there on the tip of his tongue, the words of a desperate man. I laugh, shaking my head.

“Don't waste your breath.” I dismiss, dropping my feet to the floor. I zip up the suitcase, turning my back to him. I turn to face him, but he's frozen where he is. He must have seen something flicker in my eyes, or heard something in my voice. He's lost and he knows it. It's funny how I thought Frankie was my issue. I thought I was avoiding dealing with my repressed dismissal, or his betrayal of sleeping with James. But if that were the case, if he were the issue, he wouldn't be waiting for me at a hotel right now.

“When are you coming back?” He mumbles as I head past him.

“Does it really matter?” I counter. He looks over at me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I could see tears forming in his eyes. I shake my head, heading towards the front door.

“To me, it does.” He nods, following closely behind me. I turn around to face him once we're at the door.

“This is what you wanted. Now, it's what I need.” I finish, heading into the hallway. I shut the door behind myself. He doesn't follow. I head towards the elevator, which is opening as I get closer. To my surprise, a familiar face is smiling in my direction. I smile back, dragging my suitcase towards him.

“I said you couldn't come here.” I remind him as he takes the suitcase from my hand. His other hand wraps around my lower back, pulling me onto the elevator with him.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He assures, leaning down. I let my arms wrap around his neck as our lips meet in a familiar dance. He still tastes like the strawberry lip gloss I was wearing this morning. I rest my head on his chest, smiling against the sweater he's wearing.

“You always knew exactly what I needed.”

Chapter 24

Worried

“I think he's just worried about you. You know how he is.” Crystal's voice echoes from the other end of the phone. She called me over an hour ago to find out where I was. I told her as much as she needed to know, that I was safe. I nod to myself.

“I know.” I agree, trying not to get into it. She's quiet.

“Should he?” She asks.

“Should he what?” I question, knowing the answer. She sighs.

“Should he be worried about you? You took off with no warning. We're trying to get this album done and boom, you're gone.” She answers. I can picture her waving her hand around.

“I know. I'm booked in next week, same time as Charlie. We're going to get our parts done and out of the way, so the production can move forward.” I explain. Jesse already called me about this. He said that Blake was already done recording his vocals. Crystal has been too busy to get into the studio. But she's more committed than anyone else, so he has faith. Jared is always at the studio, so he records between sets with other bands. He's the easiest to arrange timing with. But, Charlie is still in Illinois and I am off the grid. He threatened me into the studio. But I know he's right, we need to finish.

“I can't deny the timing.” She says softly. I shake my head.

“This isn't about Blake.” I dismiss. I hear her let out a sigh.

“Oh good. I'm less worried about you then.” She admits. I laugh, not shocked she'd be relieved about that.

“I'm sure you don't want to talk about it, but is it,” She pauses, and I hear her inhaling. She's probably smoking something. I wonder what flavor fits her mood today. I can't tell her mood over the phone. She always sounds generic and happy. She's lost in her own world most of the time. I'm surprise she's even noticed a disconnect, but I'm also glad. It means something that she's called. It means nothing to me when Jared does. He's looking for answers that I don't have. It's selfish. He doesn't really care about what I'm going through, or he wouldn't have put me through it in the first place.

“Is it Jared?” She finally asks. She's only brought him up once in this conversation. She said he was asking about me. If anyone knew where I was. That's part of the reason she's called.

“Partly.” I admit. Another exhale, but she's quiet. It's not just Jared anymore. It's Jared and Jesse, the way they act around each other is like enemies. Then Blake and Jared are getting closer and I can't bare to see it. I was ready to see him move on. I was. I encouraged that relationship. But, knowing who Blake is has left me unsettled. I see him and he's a manifestation of another life. He represents the things I ran from, then ran to. He's a reminder that you can't run forever. Everything catches up. I can't face that reality right now.

“I think we need the space.” I add. I don't tell her about the bomb he dropped, the way he reacted about Jesse. I don’t tell her the awful things causing this drift. The moral of the story is that we aren't getting better because we need to be apart. She hums in agreement.

“You're coming to the photo shoot though, right? We need you.” She’s concerned. I laugh.

“Jesse called this morning about it.” I answer. She laughs.

“Good. It's the only day we could get Charlie here.” She adds. I nod. I knew that already. Jesse told me that when he called. He demanded I be there. He said he'd search every hotel room for me. I guess Jared shared that information with everyone. But, they wouldn't find me. Not right now. I'm hardly there, it was just an excuse. My name on a room, in case they did look into my location. Right now, I'm relaxing on a brown leather couch, sitting in a living room filled with smoke. He's playing piano in the other room, which I can faintly hear through the open door. I came out here to answer Crystal's call, but I'll head back in there to watch him. Crystal lets out a deep sigh.

“Well, I'll let you go then. I just, wanted to check up.” She adds. I nod to myself.

“I appreciate it. I don't mean to worry you guys.” I apologize.

“I know. And I know you have your reasons. Just, take care of yourself.” She insists. I smile. She's the only person in the world who would be so neutral about the situation.

“I will.” I assure, hanging the phone up. I put it down on the table and head towards the music room. He has three rooms off the hallway. On the right side of the hallway there is one door, it opens to the bathroom. His bathroom is about the same size as the one in my own apartment. On the left is his bedroom and the music room. The first door is the music room, where I pause to watch him play. He knows I'm standing there, looking over his shoulder and offering a smile. I nod, walking into the room. I resume my previous position on the stool beside the piano. He rests his hands on the keys.

“So?” He asks. I shake my head.

“Same questions they always ask. Where are you? What are you doing? What's going on?” I ramble. He nods.

“They are your friends. They're concerned.” He offers. I nod.

“I know. That's what Crystal says. Except Jesse. He's not concerned, he's pissed.” I roll my eyes. I don't know if his sudden attitude is because of the absence or something else. I know that Jared has been treating him different since I left. He told me that. He thinks Jared is blaming him for my sudden disappearance. But Jared knows the truth, whether he can admit it or not. I want to tell Jesse the truth, put his mind at ease. But the truth would only make him more uncomfortable. If I did tell him, everyone else would find out too. Jesse tries to be reliable, but he has loose lips. Especially when it's a secret he doesn't want to keep. I gave him just enough information to keep him off my back. I told him I was seeing someone else. It's the only truth I've offered anyone recently and it's the best he's going to get from me. He told me this morning that we were too close to completion to let the arrogant front man ruin a good thing. He's using Frankie against me. It's not classy, but it was effective. I know what he means, that he means well. He doesn't want this to be a big disappointment, but neither do I. This band means something different to everyone involved, but it has meaning to everyone. I wouldn't want to be the something that compromises that. I could tell Jesse I'm upset about Jared, that I can't even stand to be in the same room as him. That my heart feels heavy just thinking about him. Seeing him wages a war inside of me that I know I can't win. If I told him any of that, he'd worry about the future of the band. He doesn't have to worry. No one does. I'm not about to let everything fall apart.

I just need time to remember how to shut off again.

Chapter 25

Shoot Me

I'm late when I finally walk into the studio. I'm always late these days, so no one is surprised by my delay. There's a warm welcome waiting for me, mostly by the people involved in the planning. Everyone is cheering and celebrating. They all seem unusually happy for a mere photo shoot. Hairstyles and wardrobe and make-up artists are all milling about. The photographer is behind his camera, trying to get the perfect lighting. I look around the room for the band, but I'm greeted by Gibson. He walks towards me with his arms open wide.

“Hello?” I greet confused. The last time we spoke he practically accused me of being the downfall of the band.

“Everything is done. Aren't you excited?” He cheers, holding up a glass of champagne. I raise my eyebrow.

“What is everything?” I question. He motions around the room.

“The recording, the production. It's all ready to go. This photo shoot is going to decide the album cover, I think.” He rambles. I look around the room again, still confused.

“How is that possible?” I ask. I finished recording my parts near the end of last week, but Charlie still had some work left to do for his. I thought. He powered through the last songs.

“You should be around more.” He hints, motioning forward.

“We might get our picture up on the billboard by next week.” He’s clearly on top of the world. I nod, then shake my head.

“Billboard?” I question. He nods.

“Times Square, for one. We need to advertise the album. I want to see more out there, though.” He adds. I shake my head.

“There's a date already? Wow, you guys weren't kidding about pushing a Christmas release.” I mumble, still shaking my head. Gibson pats my back, pushing me into the crowd. Jesse comes running over to me with a glass of champagne in his hand.

“He tell you?” He asks, motioning to Gibson. He nods as Jesse hands me the glass. Jesse puts his arm around my shoulder and we start walking into the mix of people I don't recognize. One of those people is Jared, I only notice on a second take. I realize he's standing with Crystal and Blake. It's only been a few weeks since I've seen them, but everyone looks different. Blake is clearly wearing an outfit that was provided for him, because I've never seen him dressed like this. He's wearing black leather pants, or at least that's what it looks like. They could be waxed denim, but from my distance, I see leather. The black t-shirt he's wearing is advertising some metal band. There's a goat skull inside of a pentagram on the front, that's the only reason I know. You don't see that design on too much else. Over top of the t-shirt, he's wearing a leather vest, open to advertise the goat skull. On his feet, he's wearing black combat looks with straps and spikes. He looks like an alternative clothing model, not a vocalist. They've even spiked that shoulder-length hair out, creating daggers all around his head. He's wearing a black leather collar around his neck with o-rings hanging from it. There's a matching bracelet on each wrist with smaller rings. His make-up is so dramatically dark that I can see it from where I'm standing. They've went all out to make him look like a metal God. I wonder how this image is going to impact picket fence America, going up in Times Square. But I don't ask that out loud. I thank the people who are welcoming and happy to see me. Then, I join my band, or at least Blake.

“Well, you look entirely different.” I comment, looking him up and down. He nods, looking around the room.

“Apparently, this is the visual of our music.” He mutters, shrugging his shoulders. His appearance looks forced. You can tell by looking at him that he's a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. He likes to lounge around, not bothering to dress up unless it's a special occasion. This is a special occasion I suppose. Still, I doubt this would have been his personal choice of attire. I nod.

“It's kind of a good description, don't you think?” I ask. He hums, like he has no choice but to agree. He's right. He can't argue the promotion team that claims we need “an image”. My head tilts slightly. I know that I'm looking past Blake. I know I shouldn't be, but my eyes have found their way to him anyway. Now they seem to be glued in his direction. He's fucking gorgeous. I mean, he always was. But there's something different about him, something that has clearly caught my attention. He doesn't look any different, not really. He's wearing the black Cramps t-shirt that he always wears. He's wearing the same black jeans with the tears in the knees that he usually wears. He's wearing a black leather vest over his t-shirt, something he does to dress up. He's wearing black combat boots, but I know they are his because they are worn down. He's not wearing any make-up. They've left his hair alone, the brown locks wild and untamed, finding themselves everywhere. He looks like he usually does, but somehow, better than I've been picturing him. Maybe I've just been in denial, tainting the memories of him to make it hurt a little less. I pull my focus away from him and look at Blake instead. He's rambling about how uncomfortable the outfit is.

“Blake, I made that outfit special for you.” Crystal whines from beside us. I turn to face her, letting my jaw drop as I take in her appearance. She looks completely different. Her blonde hair is now dyed black. It's straightened, passing her waist in length. She's wearing a black leather one-piece suit with a spiked belt around the middle. On her feet, she's wearing stiletto heels shaped like pistols. She is definitely a pistol. Her make-up is dark and exaggerated, just like Blake's. Although, hers is complete with the matching lipstick. Blake has a faint color on his lips too, but not a gloss like Crystal's. Her dark outfit is the opposite of her bright personality. But, then again, we all have inner demons. A dark side we're trying to hide. This look is sure to shock and awe white picket fence America. Crystal pushes me along towards a blonde guy, standing in front of a mirror.

“Get her ready.” She instructs, heading back to where Blake is. She walks in those heels with such a grace. I wonder how on earth she can possibly have such composure. Then it dawns on me that she's probably practiced not looking like an idiot. I look past the guy in the coat, and see the outfit laying on the chair. I can only guess it's supposed to be worn by me. It looks the same as Crystal's, with matching shoes. Instead of heels, they are boots with bullet holsters.

“Just shoot me.” I sigh, finally looking at the man in the coat.

“Oh honey, we have so much work to do.” He mutters, shaking his head. I agree. But I can't focus. My eyes are glued to the mirror, watching the person moving around behind me.

Chapter 26

Great Minds

I sat down at the table across from Jared. Everyone else has changed since the photo shoot earlier. Since he was wearing his own clothes, he didn't bother. I didn't see Charlie before the photo shoot, because I was in wardrobe. I only saw him when we met in front of the white backdrop sheet the photographer had set up. He was also wearing his own clothes, a torn up band shirt and black cargo shorts. It's his standard attire, regardless of the occasion. But, his attitude is metal enough. He's covered in tattoos, most of which have significance to his punk upbringing. They put him through make-up, enhancing his features. But, that was it. He didn't come out with us. He said he was sure we'd pick the perfect picture anyway. He's got three weeks left to finish up his business in Illinois. So no one says anything when he rushes off to catch his flight right after the photo shoot. The photographer sent the pictures to us right away, so we could decide. We're sitting at a wine bar downtown, trying to decide which picture to use as the album cover. Or, they are, at least.

I tried to get out of the photo shoot too many times to count. I said I didn't need to be there, since I was hardly a member of the band. Or, Jesse told me I wasn't going to be a member anymore. They were going to shuffle around the roles, like Jared told me they would. He thought it would help to take some of the pressure off. He was right and wrong. I'm happy to not be needed anymore, really. He just shuffled his life around and removed me from that too. Christine wouldn't hear any of that. She said I was important to the band, the heart of the project. She said if they were taking me off bass, I could switch to the mixing board. After all, Blake had suggested bringing a synthesizer into certain songs. That was so they would make good remixes, but some of the songs don't sound good otherwise. At least I'm confident in my ability to use that instrument. Reggie got his mixing board a little over a month ago. He was going to hire a real DJ, but, I learned quickly. The club was my only real distraction from my life. I couldn't lose that. So I didn't. Unfortunately, that meant I was still a member of the band. That meant I still had to answer questions in interviews, do press releases, and apparently pose for the camera. But I did try. I didn’t think Jared would want to see me, and I knew I couldn't handle seeing him.

It was easy to avoid him on set. Everyone was trying to talk to me about the release party. It happened a month ago, I hardly remember that night anymore. Or at least that's what I told anyone who asked. But, some people wanted to know about Jesse, our night together. He was quick to cut in and direct the conversation elsewhere. He says we want to be discreet, keep the evening between the two of us. It used to be a cover up, but it isn't anymore. He genuinely wants it kept quiet. He ended up taking that same girl home and now they're dating. Now, the rumors of our evening together are threatening his own happiness. If I had to guess, that's why he's been so moody towards me. He doesn't want my lie to mess this up for him. I could just as easily tell his new girlfriend, but I don't know if she's reliable yet. I can't tell her where I was. I can't tell anyone. I don't even tell myself. I pretend it's someone else I spend my time with. He's not the same person anymore, but no one else would believe that. No one else would give him another chance. I'm just so full of chances I love to give them out.

We haven't said anything to each other except for a forced “hello” when the photographer made us stand next to each other. The silence between us is too heavy. Accusations and affirmations hang in the open air, thick with discomfort. Crystal is showing me her phone, pointing at the picture she liked the best. I'm trying to concentrate on her words, but I can't. My eyes are glued to the reflective strip on the wall behind Jared. I can see the curve of his face through it and all of my attention has been given to memorizing his features. Blake asks which picture I liked the best. I look over at Crystal.

“The one you picked was my favorite too.” I offer. I don't really care what picture gets used as the album cover or advertised on billboards across the city. I don't care. Period. The only thing I care about right now is sitting across from me, silently nodding as he scrolls through the pictures. He pauses, holding the phone towards Blake. He nods, smiling widely.

“I like that one too. I think it sends the right message.” He agrees. Jared nods, looking at the table.

“Which picture did you choose?” Crystal asks Blake.

“Count of three?” He baits, cocking a smile. She nods, laughing along with him. They count out loud, then exchange their phones. A sudden and rather boisterous laughter escapes both of them, before they hand back the phones. I raise my eyebrow, looking at Crystal. I can still see Jared out of the corner of my eye. He's playing with a napkin on the table. Crystal motions to Blake and he shows me the image on his screen. The two of them picked the same one as Crystal.

“Great minds.” Crystal jokes, closing her phone. She places it down on the table in front of her, looking around the bar.

“Let's get a bottle of wine.” Crystal suggests, looking around.

“You read my mind.” Blake laughs, motioning the waiter over. He orders an expensive French-sounding wine and the four glasses. I don't pay attention. I don't want to be here.

“I can't wait to get back on tour.” Blake announces, smiling.

“I'm excited about it too.” Crystal adds, nodding. The words cut through my train of thought. Tour. If the album is already finished, we're going to be heading on tour soon.

“When does the tour start?” I ask, suddenly panicked. Gibson told me the album was finished. He said nothing about a tour. We haven't even performed together yet.

“The album is out on December 10^th, so, I think a few weeks after that.” Crystal answers, looking around. I know Christine. She'll have us on the road as soon as she can.

“No, Christine said she wants to kick off the New Year with the tour.” Blake reminds her.

“That's right.” Crystal agrees, clapping her hands together.

“Have you guys been talking about this?” I ask, now becoming aware that the chain of command has shifted. That's what Jesse meant when he said I was no longer in the band. Jared leans forward, his movement catching my attention. He presses both his forearms on the table, letting his hands rest on one another. I pull my eyes from his hands before I do something stupid, like look at him. Crystal would tell me I was being ridiculous, playing this avoidance game. Frankie already has, but I haven't told him the real issues. I told him Jared was happy, moved on. He needs to think that's the truth. Crystal was right. He doesn't deserve recognition from them. So, I made up an ex-boyfriend the night of the release party and I've continued lying about his existence. I tried talking to Jesse about all of it, but he doesn't want to get involved now. He doesn't want to know anything. He said all he cared about was keeping this band together. Like it was his new mission in life. Live vicariously through us, be known as our manager. He's probably planning to come, alongside Christine.

“You know Christine, all business.” Crystal dismisses, waving her hand around. I let myself focus on her, taking my attention away from Jared. I wonder if she's doing it intentionally.

“Gibson wanted concrete dates.” Jared adds. His voice causes every hair on my body to stand up, suddenly hyper-aware that he's sitting across from me. We're sharing the same air. I need to stop breathing before he manages to get back in my system.

“The tour starts on January 6^th.” Blake announces, looking down at his phone. I motion towards him.

“Do you already have the schedule?” I ask. He nods, holding his phone in my direction. I see it all there, the next few months planned out. My life taken away. My hiding places all gone.

“Why didn't anyone talk to me about this?” I ask, looking at everyone but Jared. He laughs, drawing my attention to him.

“Like you've made it so easy.” He observes, still looking at the table. I let myself take in his features. His eyes are red and swollen. There are bags underneath them, accenting the wrinkles in the corners. He looks rough and run down. He didn't look this way a few hours ago, did he? I want to say something cocky in response, but nothing comes out. My tongue is tied. I did this to him. This is the result of being gone, but still here. I haven't given him enough space to heal. I haven't given myself enough time to move on.

Chapter 27

Not Ready

“I don't think I'm ready. We just finished recording. It's like, they don't even want us to take a break. She says she's giving us Christmas, like that makes a difference.” I whine, looking over at him. He's sitting on the edge of the window sill beside me, but he's been quiet while I ranted. I haven't seen him in a few days, so I know I should be taking advantage of him being here. He nods, humming to let me know he's listening. I roll my head against the glass of the shop window, peering inside. It's a cute little cafe just up the street from the hotel. The owner is an older woman and the shop is always quiet. She has the place decorated with white bistro furniture. High, almost backless chairs and matching tables. The legs of the table have a heart shape to them. The back of the chairs have the same heart in the center, hollowed out. There are six in total, a good indication of how many customers the place gets on a regular basis. At the front of the shop is a fold out chalkboard. It usually sits on the street corner, but since the place is closed, it's inside. It has the specials written on the front. It's always soup. Homemade soup, from the woman who owns the place. The counter at the other end is decorated with a pink sign, showing the name of the shop. There's a giant pink cupcake on the front, since she makes pastries as well. I wonder if she would hire me as a cashier. I don't have any certification for handling food. But, maybe she would hire me based on who I am. My employment might bring more business to the place. It looks like they could use a boost in their sales. Some of the chairs are rusting due to age. I wonder how they get enough business to even stay open. Every time I come here, it's dead. But maybe it's the people like me. Wayward, with no other place to go. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

“You're over thinking.” He insists, looking over. I nod slowly.

“I know.” I agree. We're both quiet.

“You'll be fine. You've been through worse. I mean, me, for one. It can't be worse than that.” He jokes. There's a softness to his voice that tricks me into believing he's right. I look over and his lips find themselves against mine. I smile. For a minute, I forget I'm upset. He's smiling as he moves back.

“I could come with you.” He offers, still smiling. I laugh.

“Yeah right.” I dismiss. He shrugs, like he would, despite the repercussions. I know he would, too. Finally, he stands up, holding his hand out for me. I sigh, pulling myself up to my feet. I don't want to go. I'm not ready. It's just after five in the morning and the sun is coming up. It's bright, beaming and warm. All the things I'm not used to anymore. I wish the sun would give me time too. I'm not ready. I probably would have slept at the bar. Reggie would have said nothing. He would have left me in the booth I spent my night in. He would have let me keep the bottle I took from behind the bar. But, Frankie showed up to walk me home. Of course, walking proved to be difficult. I had already finished the first bottle. My ability to stand was questionable. So, Frankie suggested we sit down. It just happened to be right here. Outside this little cafe that helps me forget about the world. I stand up, stumbling forward. It's the way I've been moving around these days. Stumbling from street post to street post, trying to make it home. But home is a hotel room. I'm not going home. I'm not ready for that either. He steadies me with his arm around my waist. I nod, to signal I'm fine, but he doesn't move. My eyes look up at him, but quickly past. I can see in the distance, the billboard now looking down at us. A few city workers are putting the new one up. I look back at Frankie, trying to focus. I hadn't considered what the billboards were going to mean. Not entirely. Not in detail. I mentioned it to Crystal, but she shrugged it off. So I did too. But here they are, going up all over town.

“What's wrong?” He asks, noticing how tense I'm getting. I shake my head, but regret fills me instantly. I lean past him and throw up on the side walk. His hand rests on my lower back as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I'm still shaking my head when I look at him.

“It's nothing. It's just, I need to lay down I think.” I ramble. He nods, motioning down the sidewalk.

“We can take a taxi, if you'd rather. It might be faster.” He offers. I laugh, looking at the sidewalk.

“No driver would take us.” I dismiss, starting to walk. He nods.

“You're probably right. Come on.” He insists, wrapping his arm back around my waist. I nod, following him down the sidewalk. I can go back to his place, sleep this off and forget what I saw. But it's only a temporary distraction. I saw it. It's only a matter of time before he sees it. Maybe not the same one, but there are five of them going up. Christine wants to put a banner up in the lobby, too. He'll see that one. But, that one doesn't have our faces. It just says the band name and the release date. I can handle that. It's just a banner. There's no picture. God, of all the pictures we were sent, they had to use that one? Do they even know how obvious they made it? There's no mistaking him for anyone else. The picture they chose has Blake leaning towards the camera, making a ridiculous face. Crystal is standing to one side of him, with Jared on the other side. The two of them are standing back to back. Charlie is on the other side of Crystal, making what he calls his rock and roll face. It matches the one Blake was trying to make. Then, I'm on the other side of Jared, looking too cool to be there in the first place. Blake said it sent the right message. The only message it's sending is that we're going to get in your face, whether you want us to or not.

The rest of the walk is in silence as I stumble down the sidewalk. He's steadying me as we walk, occasionally looking over. I know he's concerned. He has every reason to be. But, it's too late to do anything about it now. It's only going to get worse. I know that. He hasn't found out yet. But, he will. He can't walk around New York City without seeing these billboards.

But that's tomorrows problem.

When we get back to his apartment, the doorman greets us. He hands Frankie a sealed envelope with the return address of our label. I don't think anything of it. It's probably something from his new management, something about his album or the tour. He's hard to reach these days. I guess that's my fault. I take up too much of his time, but I can't complain. He's been a pleasant distraction from my life, even if it's only momentary. Frankie shoves the envelope into the pocket of his dress shirt. I close my eyes, trying to remember how to breathe without throwing up. By the time I open them again, we're standing outside his apartment door. He's opening it and guiding me in. He lets me drop down on the couch, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. I watch him head into the kitchen and get a glass of water. He comes back and puts the glass on the table. Then, he heads towards the curtains. He draws them all closed, blocking out the light of the sun. He's closing out the rest of the world.

That's exactly what I need right now. Oblivion. The alcohol doesn't do it for me anymore. I can't shake my thoughts. Instead, they just shake me. I can't handle it. His hand was so close to mine. I just had to reach out, wrap my pinky around his. Let him know I was there. I'm fucking there. But I need to be here, not there. Far away. From him, from us. From everything we ended up meaning to each other. This is good, this space. It's helping, making it easier.

I watch Frankie head into his bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he does. My eyes find themselves on the envelope again. It's not from the label. It's from Christine. When he's out of eyesight, I quickly grab it off the table. I rip it open, even though it isn't addressed to me. Inside of the simple white envelope is a written invitation to the album release party.

Well, fuck me.

Chapter 28

Boardroom

I pace back and fourth, waiting in the boardroom. I look around at the tour posters hanging up on the walls. They are all framed, highlighting the best tour from each band signed to the label. My eyes keep finding their way to Frankie's. They have the poster from the tour Crystal and I were on with him. I'll admit, it was a good tour. Musically, it was something different for Frankie. He wasn't used to collaboration anymore. It turns out he was never really good at it. He's better suited to working with himself. It's too bad I found that out the hard way. But people can change. I think he's figuring out how to communicate a little better now. Or, it feels that way at least.

It's another twenty minutes before Jesse pulls the door open to the boardroom. My hands are running through my hair and my panic is obvious to him. He's got a clipboard in one of his hands and he looks confused. I throw the invitation down.

“What the fuck is this?” I bark. He slowly reaches for the piece of paper, sitting down at the head of the table. I drop down in the seat beside him, slamming my back against the chair. He looks nervous, and he's not taking his eyes off of me. He should be nervous. He picks it up and then puts it down.

“I guess it's an invitation.” He offers. I half-laugh.

“Thanks. I hadn't figured that out.” I moan, looking over.

“Why did he get one?” I ask, picking it back up.

“I don’t know. Christine sent them to a specific list of people. His name must have been on the list.” He defends. He's quiet, before raising his eyebrow.

“I think the more pressing question is, how do you know he got this invitation in the first place?” He asks. I look up, freezing. I try to come up with something to say, but nothing comes out.

“No.” He argues, letting out a deep sigh. He stands up, abandoning the clipboard. He puts his hands on his head and starts pacing back and fourth. I take out one of my cigarettes and light it, regardless of the no-smoking indoors rule. I hate that rule. I have ever since they passed the law. I always thought it was stupid. It's houses that burn down, yet people are still allowed to smoke in those.

“When you said you did something stupid, I thought,” He pauses again, looking over. I sink into the chair I'm sitting in, covering my face in clouds of smoke. He walks over to me and waves his hand in front of my face, clearing away the wall I've made for myself.

“You're fucking Frankie?” He barks, looking directly into my eyes. I just look down. Helpless and defeated.

“I can't believe this.” He mutters, dropping back into his seat.

“This whole time?” He asks, looking over. I nod. He laughs, but it's maniacal. I take a long drag off my cigarette. He pulls the clipboard back, busying himself with reading.

“I should have realized. You started acting different after that night. I didn't think anything of it. I just thought you were being yourself.” He rambles. I shake my head.

“I'm sorry.” I offer pointlessly. He shakes his head again.

“I wish I didn't know.” He groans. I look down at the floor.

“I didn't tell you.” I defend. He shakes his head.

“Is this all you wanted to see me about? Because I have other things to do. Things I need to take care of.” He insists. I shake my head, putting the cigarette out on the table beside me.

“What's this tour about?” I ask, motioning around sloppily. I'm not even motioning at anything, but in my head, I'm seeing the world mapped out in front of me. A few months ago, I was happy to try and conquer every nook and cranny. But now, I can't even bring myself to conquer my own fucking house. Instead, I'm hiding in a hotel room in Brooklyn with a suitcase I didn't even pack properly.

“A tour always follows an album release.” He dismisses, shaking his hand like it's obvious. I nod.

“We haven't even played together Jesse. We don't know if we're going to have the right stage presence. The right chemistry. It could be a total disaster.” I ramble. He nods.

“So we'll set up a show. I'll call Christine, get something worked out.” He offers. I laugh to myself.

“When did you stop being my friend and start being another cog?” I accuse, letting my tone be as insulting as it chooses to be. By the instant reaction on his face, it did a good job. He throws the clipboard down on the table and stands up abruptly.

“I don't know, when did you start being the royal fuck up?” He barks in return. Okay, I'll admit I wasn't expecting that kind of a response. I don't even know what to say, staring at him wide-eyed like he's just insulted my mother or something. Well, not that I would care if he actually did. But I mean, a normal person might. Someone with a mother or any sort of parental guidance might feel a sting. That's the point. He couldn't insult something dear to me because I've come to accept that nothing is. I've got no attachments, least of all to people. Regardless of how charming their smile is. How those lips curl so perfectly. How soft they feel. How warm and inviting. Regardless of how those deep brown eyes used to sparkle. The way those long fingers used to wrap around mine. The way his arms wrapped around me, almost clinging. The way his hair fell over his face whenever he was above me. No, no attachments at all.

“Excuse me?” I stutter, like I have some right to be insulted.

“Look, this band meant everything to you. I don't know what happened with Jared,” He starts. I go to open my mouth, but his finger raises. I don't know why, but I listen.

“I'm better off.” He hints. I nod, remaining quiet.

“But what I do know, is that too much effort has been put into this to let it all go to waste. I told you that if you didn't pull yourself together I was going to do this without you. I meant it. You're not cut out for this.” He finishes, slowly sitting back down in his chair.

“Is that why you're rushing the tour?” I ask, trying to deny how broken I feel. My voice betrays me, shaking as I speak. Jesse sighs, shaking his head. Above all else, he pities me. Fuck.

“I need to get this kicked off before you do something stupid.” He confesses. I'm trying to come up with something to say, but he doesn't give me the chance. Again.

“So, yeah, we're rushing everything. And you know what? You have two choices right now.” He pauses, mostly for dramatic effect. I look up and nod, letting him know I'm listening.

“You're going to suck it up, and be a part of this, or you're finished. I mean that.” He explains. I nod.

“If you choose to stick this out, there are going to be changes. You're going to put in more effort. You're going to smile, and I don't care if they are fake. You're going to be where I tell you to be and you're going to be on time. You're going to get on stage every night and play your heart out. You're going to answer questions during interviews, regardless of what everyone is asking. You're going to sign autographs and pose for pictures and give your fans something to look forward to. You're going to pretend your heart is still in this. You're going to be a part of the band you put together or you're being replaced. That's it. I'm not giving you anymore chances. I was your friend, but, I'm not anymore. I don't even know you.” He rambles. He emphasizes the point: I have made this bed. It doesn't matter if I can't get comfortable or fall asleep. He's forcing the sleeping pill down my throat. I never thought he was the cutthroat type. Maybe I didn't know him at all. It turns out that I hardly know myself.

“You've agreed to all of this in your contracts, but I don't want to be the person who throws that at you. I shouldn't have to remind you. You should want this. You did.” He reminds me, looking sympathetic. I don't want his sympathy.

“Things change. I didn't know what I was getting into. I know you own me. Turning back would be breaching my contract and inviting a lawsuit. I don't want that either. I don't,” I pause.

“I don't know what I want. I just want it all to stop.” I mumble. I know he's right, that my heart isn't in this anymore. My heart was ripped from my chest outside a nightclub and stomped on past the point of recovery. I don't have a heart to put in this or I'd be making an effort. He shakes his head.

“We're going to have a band meeting between the release party and the tour. You'll be able to address your concerns then, should you decide to see this through. We're going to hammer out all the details. Right here. In this room. We’re going to get everyone on the same page. Pumped about the future. Exciting things.” He announces, standing up. He passes my seat.

“I think, before that, you should talk to Jared.” He suggests. I look up, raising my eyebrow.

“He needs to know the reason you've been avoiding him.” He finishes, walking out of the room. I have half the mind to make a joke, tell him that's not good enough to leave on. That he'll have to do better. But I don't, because he doesn't. It struck, just like he wanted it to.

Chapter 29

Coffee

I kick a stone along the sidewalk with every step I take. Occasionally, glancing up towards the sky. They spared no expense getting that advertisement on every billboard it seems. I thought they were sticking to Times Square. I wasn't worried about that. No one can pay attention to that many advertisements, all on display. There are too many flashing billboards for our paper one to stand out, so I thought. I was at Times Square yesterday. We don't have a paper billboard, like I thought. They put together a digital advertisement. At least that one is more focused on the actual album, even listing the single they've already got on the radio. I didn't think we'd ever get radio play, not with our sound. But Christine and Jesse are such good managers they found three stations that would play our music. So Gibson picked the best song off the album and sent it everywhere. White picket America, meet WJKG. We're in your face when you walk down the street and we're blaring through the speakers of your car. We're the kids your parents warned you about. Everyone loves us. Especially Blake. He did an interview after the press conference, talking about his musical background. They put it on television, and it's on YouTube. From the people we work with to the fans. Even random people who don't know who we are love him. He's adored, because he's adorable. I know he is. I wondered how a kid like that would fit in when I first met him, but his personality spoke louder than his appearance. I look down at the ground, trying to pull my eyes from the billboard. I wish they had chose a picture that wasn't so, Blake-centric. I shake my head, letting the rock go on without me. I don't follow, choosing to drop down on the bus stop bench. There's someone already sitting on the bench. She looks over at me with a shocked look on her face.

“What?” I ask snappily. I don't mean to be, but I was never good with people anyway. It's only gotten worse. She fumbles out a stuttered “nothing”, before walking away. I sigh, looking back up. I didn't think this through, I'm realizing. I was so determined to give them something to hold on to, I didn't think about what I needed. I spent all my time fighting for the band, the album, pushing this whole circus forward. Now I realize, I left myself behind. Jesse was right. I'm not myself anymore. But that is assuming I was ever a version of someone I would call myself. I haven't felt like me in so long, I don't remember who I am. It's a good thing there are so many billboards with my face constantly reminding me. I take some solace knowing I'm not the only person overwhelmed. Charlie is beside himself. He said he never thought the band would take off. He loves being a musician, of course, but the publicity is something new. It's helped his book sales, if nothing else. But, between his house and the coffee shop, he's stuck signing autographs. I told him he'll get used to it, but I don't believe that myself.

Everyone wants to be famous. They think they are cut out for the hard work, and most of them are. But they don't consider what goes on behind the scenes. They don't think about the people who all believe they're entitled to a piece of your soul. The constant questions and interviews. Autographs and posing for pictures on the street when you just wanted a cup of coffee. Fame seems like a good idea, until you realize it's a trap. A nightmare you can't wake up from. They don't think, they just want a piece of the action. A glimmer of stardom. Little do any of them know how the dust from the stars fills your eyes and leaves you blinded. Leaves you unsure of everything you thought you knew. Leaves you broken. Abandoned.

You're either born for this life, or you're not. Him and I, we were born to be mediocre. We weren't meant for greatness. We're just average people who got thrown into this chaos.

Blake was born to be a star. I don't know why he's been wasting his talent all this time. I hate every second of these choices I've made, but I'm happy to see him shining. He's the brightest star my eyes have ever laid on, but there's no sign of fading. There's no glimmer. He's not a shining star, just a beautiful one. He's a golden boy, the one we were missing this whole time. He's the one thing that's going to shoot us up into the sky and make us immortal. I can't say I want that. Immortality is overrated. Then again, I can't say what I want. It's been so long since I considered my own wants. I've been living for other people. I must have wanted something at some point. Now everything feels like it's out of my control. Mostly because it is. Jesse has taken over, afraid I'm nothing but a flake. He's compared me to Frankie more times than I should have let him get away with. Christine is worried too. She called me shortly after my meeting with Jesse. He told her what he told me. My last chance before the ship sails without me. I don't care. Let it. I don't want this anymore. I don't want anything. The action of wanting something gives the Universe something to withhold. Having something gives it the power to take it all away. I sigh out loud as someone sits down on the bench beside me. I look over, freezing as my eyes land on him. The air gets caught in my lungs. I choke when I try to breathe.

“There are thirteen.” He informs me, pointing up at the billboard. I nod, but don't say anything.

“Jesse said you wanted to see me.” He stutters, looking at the ground. He's got both his hands between his legs, with his fingers wrapped around each other. One of his legs is bouncing slightly. The bench is shaking as his leg moves. I nod again.

“Yeah, I do.” I agree. He looks up excitedly. I shake my head.

“Jesse thinks we need to talk. Before this tour thing.” I mutter, trying to avoid directly looking at him. He stands up, and I feel the bench shift now that his weight is absent.

“There's a cafe down the street, come on.” He suggests, tapping my leg. I stand up and reluctantly follow him. It's only a block away, and the walk is silent. A few people call our names from across the street. Or down the street. Or maybe it's all in my head because I'm looking for any distraction that keeps me from realizing we are alone together. I've made sure to avoid this for as long as possible. But, Jesse has made it clear I don't get that luxury anymore. He opens the door, motioning me inside. I step forward, heading towards the most private table of this place. I've been here once or twice. It's a small place, like most of the places in Brooklyn. It's trendy, catering mostly to hipsters. They have free WiFi and outlets everywhere for people to charge their phones. There's even a phone charging station in the far corner, beside a jukebox that hasn't been used in years. The owner keeps it there for the aesthetic, I'm sure. Jared orders two coffees by yelling towards the counter. The waitress wastes no time getting the coffees to our table. She also asks Jared for his autograph, handing him a napkin and a pen. He signs it for her and she scurries back behind the counter. The fans never ask for my autograph. I've got a reputation and it's not a very flattering one. I didn't expect anything different. As Jesse said, I'm nothing but a fuck up. That's why it will be so easy to replace me. Crystal told me she doesn't agree with them, that I'm having a hard time and they should be more understanding. If she knew who I was spending my time with, she'd be one foot out the door too. I'm grateful Jesse kept that part to himself. I look around the cafe, seeing people looking towards our table. They would never come over to us. They think they are just as cool as we are. This is why I love New York. This is why New York will always be home. No one cares about anything here. I blend right in with these heartless self-important people. I let my eyes settle on the man sitting in front of me, tracing around the coffee cup with his index finger.

“Look, I'm sorry.” I start, not really knowing how to continue. He nods, looking up from the table. His eyes find mine, like magnets. I quickly look away.

“For?” He questions. But he knows why I'm sorry.

“I guess, everything.” I answer loosely. He nods, leaning back against the booth I sat us in. It's not where he would have chosen to sit. He's been more social these days, I've heard. Him and Blake go out all the time. They've been creating a buzz with random appearances at this event or that nightclub. They're doing really good, Crystal told me. Happy. I can see it. His face looks lighter than the last time I saw him. The bags are gone. The wrinkles are only in his cheeks from his smile. He's beautiful to look at, even though it breaks my heart.

“I know I'm fucking up everything right now. Worrying everyone.” I continue. He crosses his arms over his chest, nodding as I speak. He's wearing a black and white striped shirt with long sleeves. It reminds me of a vintage prison uniform. It's funny to me, because right now I feel like the prisoner. Serving my sentence for a crime I hadn't committed yet. But, if our intentions can decide our characters, then I'm nothing short of a criminal. I deserve to be locked up.

“Did Jesse tell you he has a replacement in line for me?” I ask, briefly looking up. He nods.

“He told us.” He answers, letting out a deep breath. I stay quiet.

“I don't want to let him replace you. There's no one who can take your place.” He pauses, and I look up. I know he's not talking about the band anymore. I shake my head.

“He's right. The distance, how I've been acting. It's hard on the band. I know. I think that he might be right, about what is best for the band. The future.” I ramble, sipping my coffee. He chuckles, drawing my attention to the way his lips are curling.

“Can you forget about the stupid band for a minute?” He asks, leaning forward. I raise my eyebrow.

“That's why you're here Jared. To talk about the future of the band.” I remind. He shakes his head.

“I don't care about the band. I thought, never mind. I thought wrong.” He dismisses. I look down at the table, unable to hide the sinking feeling in my stomach. He slides out of the booth, finishing his coffee with one sip. He waves as he heads out.

“I'll see you around.” He mutters.

“Jared.” I moan. He turns around, pausing at the door.

“I'm not ready.” I whine. He shakes his head.

“Then call me when you are.” And with that, he's out the door. Everyone in the cafe is staring at me.

Maybe New York has more of a heart than I do.

Chapter 30

Accusations

I tap my finger on the surface of the table I'm sitting at. Diane is watching me from behind the counter. If I were anyone else, she would have asked me to leave by now. My irritated sighs are bringing the atmosphere down, she said. But she knows I don't have anywhere else to go. This has become a second home to me. She knows that. I told her I'll leave when he gets here. We'll go back to his place, I'll forget about Jared for a little bit. I'll try to forget the disappointed look in his eyes. But I know that neither will happen. It's etched in now, the only thing I see when I close my eyes. I haven't been closing them for that exact reason. I haven't slept in two days. Not since that conversation. Diane likes me, but I think she pities me more than anything. Everyone does. I fake a smile as I see him coming through the front door. Diane pretends to be busy with a crossword puzzle, quickly looking away from us. She doesn't want to seem nosy.

“Hey baby.” I greet, standing up from the table. I reach for his arm, but he pulls back instantly. I raise my eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, stepping backwards. He nods excessively, reaching for his phone.

“What the fuck is this?” He barks, handing it in my direction. I take it from him, cautiously. I see the image on the screen and my mind starts racing. I have to think of something, anything. I have to come up with an explanation. He's tapping his foot from in front of me.

“It's a billboard. Haven't you seen them up before?” I ask, faking another smile. He smirks, like he can't believe I'm avoiding the question. He should know that avoidance is my specialty these days. No one seems to like it, but it's working for me. Like a fucking charm. Nothing can touch me, I'm invincible. None of this keeps me up at night. Leaves me restless. Eats at my insides like I'm the main course for a Universal dinner. No. I sleep just fine on a bed made of all the lies I tell the people around me.

“I meant this.” He corrects. I watch his fingers zooming in on the image. He shows it to me again, like I didn't know what he was talking about the first time. I sigh, looking over at the table. So much for my best laid plans, I guess. I pick up my coffee and finish what's left. I wave in Diane's direction and head out onto the street. Frankie follows with heavy footsteps.

“I don't know what you want me to say.” I dismiss, walking away from the cafe. I head towards my own hotel, because it's obvious we're not going to have a nice evening. He follows.

“What the fuck is going on?” He repeats, grabbing my shoulder. I turn around to face him, shaking him off.

“I don't fucking know, Frankie. I don't. God, like I have the fucking answers for everything, right?” I shout. I'm not meaning to raise my voice, but it's getting harder to keep my emotions in check. I didn't know I had them anymore. But, that look in Jared's eyes sliced through me. Frankie was the one person I thought would be understanding, accepting. He was my escape from reality. But now, he's shoving reality in my face and asking why. I don't fucking know.

“You replaced me with Blake?” He continues, raising his voice. His anger is gaining momentum.

“Yeah, we did. I don't know what you want me to say about it though.” I agree. He shakes his head.

“Let's start with, why?” He offers. I shrug.

“Because he was the only person who sounded decent after weeks of auditions. But, no one knew who he was. I mean, to you. I just found out who he was. But, it's too late to do anything about it now.” I defend, motioning around at nothing. I don't know why I'm defending the decision, least of all to him. He doesn't have the right to be upset. He up and left us, it wasn't the other way around.

After the concert in Toronto, a scandal broke out that I had been seeing Jared. It was the only explanation anyone could come up with as to why the band broke up. No one confirmed or denied the accusations. It was true, but it wasn't so black and white. There was an entire gray scale that everyone was missing. But, no one wanted to fill in the blanks. So, I took the hit. I was the girl who broke Frankie's heart by dating one of the band members and destroying the band. My reputation among fans was set in stone before we even became our own band. I'm a home wrecker, even though it was supposed to be my home. Frankie's press conference announced that he would be moving forward, using session musicians. We never spoke about it before he made that announcement. It wasn't exactly a shock to any of us, but it wasn't discussed either. It wasn't our decision. He left. He fucking left. How does he think he has the right to say anything about what happens now? He doesn't get to talk about us, like it's a thing he valued. If he valued it, he wouldn't have walked away.

“Were you going to tell me?” Frankie asks. I raise my eyebrow, realizing I was somewhere else in my head. His arms are now crossed over his chest and he's got a fury in his eyes.

“To be honest, I don't know. I wanted to, but I was afraid you'd do this.” I dismiss. That's about as much honesty as he can ask for right now. Even that is pushing it.

“Are you fucking him?” He asks randomly. I raise my eyebrow.

“What?” I question, trying not to laugh. He shakes his head.

“Are you fucking Blake?” He repeats, like I didn't hear him the first time. I don't say anything, mostly out of disbelief. He swears at the sky, and starts pacing back and fourth.

“You are.” He concludes for himself.

“Frankie, he's gay. You should know that.” I remind him. Frankie looks over at me and pauses. I see something like pain flicker in his eyes. He puts one of his hands over his stomach.

“Oh my God.” He mumbles as the other hand covers his mouth.

“What?” I question, stepping back from him.

“Jared's new boyfriend... He's with Blake, isn't he?” He asks. I bite the side of my lip. Well, he's got me there. I can't exactly deny it, but it's not my place to confirm it either.

“I wouldn’t really know.” I dismiss. He shakes his head.

“You said it yourself. He had a new boyfriend, he was so happy. I was so fucking blind and it was right there in front of me.” He reminds me, beginning to ramble. I shake my head.

“I lied.” I pause. He looks over, his hands dropping to his side.

“What?” He asks, sounding hurt. I take a deep breath.

“I wanted you to think we had moved on. That we were better off without you. None of it was true.” I confess. He laughs.

“It looks true.” He argues, now showing me another picture on his phone. While I've been talking, he's been looking up pictures of them. He throws his phone down and starts walking.

“What gives you the right to be angry about this?” I call. He stops walking and turns around.

“You left him, remember? You left him broken and in pieces. He loved you and you just, threw him away like it never mattered.” I remind him. He starts walking towards me.

“He never loved me. I was just something to distract him. I mean, I really had convinced myself that it would work. That we had something. But, we didn't. It became obvious. That's why I turned to James. I never touched him before,” He pauses, making eye contact. I look at the ground.

“My trip.” I offer. He's pacing again.

“He was over. But it was platonic. I didn't lie about that. But I knew when you told me that Jared was still there. He was only there because of you. He was too in love with you to see anyone else.” He finishes. I laugh, more to myself.

“Yeah, sure.” I dismiss. He shakes his head.

“All he's done is waste his time. Because here you are with me. Again. Instead of being with him. You're not worth his devotion. His love. But he keeps giving it.” He continues. I raise my eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” I question. He shakes his head violently.

“Don't think I didn't notice the way you ignore his calls. You were keeping this from him. I knew there was no ex-boyfriend, that you were just fucking around behind his back. No change there.” He accuses, starting to laugh. I shake my head.

“You don't know anything, Frankie.” I bark. He shakes his head, beginning to laugh.

“I know you were always one foot out the door with him. I guess it's good that he's finally moving on from you. Maybe now he'll actually be happy, not having to try so hard to keep someone who will always leave.” He hints, looking over. Before I can stop myself, my hand is curled into a fist and slamming against his stomach. He drops to his knees.

“Shut up.” I demand, looking down at him. He nods.

“Okay.” He agrees, mostly out of shock. I run one of my hands through my hair. He stands back up, looking at me wide-eyed.

“Jared left me. Okay? It wasn't the other way around. I was trying this time. Maybe not as hard as I could have. Fine. But I was fucking trying. He couldn't take your betrayal. Your dismissal. He fell apart Frankie. I wanted to be there for him I did. But he wouldn't let me. So I let go, because I had no fucking choice.” I rant, more to myself. I can feel the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and quickly wipe them away. Frankie raises his eyebrow.

“He left you?” He questions. I nod.

“So, yes, he's moving on. He's leaving me behind. I agree that it's probably in his best interest. He deserves the best and I'm obviously not it. That's pretty clear. I'm keeping this from him so he can move on. Because if he found out, he'd be crushed. I want him to be happy, even if it's without me.” I finish.

“I didn't know.” He mutters, sounding apologetic. I laugh.

“You wouldn't. You didn't ask.” I remind him. He takes a step towards me, but I move back.

“I'm sorry.” He whines, shaking his head. I nod.

“I'm not worth the apology.” I answer sarcastically. He sighs.

“I didn't mean that.” He defends. I laugh again.

“You did.” I argue. He doesn't repeat himself. I nod to myself.

“That's fine. It's good that I know what you really think of me.” I add, beginning to walk to the street. I hail a taxi, then pause before getting into the back seat.

“For the record, I know I never deserved him. But, you didn't either. I think it's time you look in the mirror and realize you're only seeing what you want to see.” I finish. Frankie follows to the taxi. I can see his lips moving, but his words are distant now. He's on another planet. He wants me to stay and talk about this. But I won't. There's nothing to talk about. He pulled the trigger on whatever this was. A shotgun spray has left nothing behind. The damage is done. So am I.

Chapter 31

Pity Party

“I don't know what to do.” I whine, looking up at the woman standing at the table. She fakes a smile and puts the bowl of soup down in front of me. It's a hearty chicken noodle that she's just made. She uses bow tie noodles and breaded chicken. The base of the soup is seasoned with basil, which is strong enough to taste. She adds sliced celery, chunks of carrots and a little bit of onion. She leaves the base sit for a few hours before adding the noodles and chicken. I take a spoonful to my mouth, savoring the smell. There's a hot chocolate sitting on the table in front of me. She makes her own powder by crushing beans. Then she blends it together with table cream and tops it off with a home-made whipped cream. She makes everything here herself. She's a culinary artist, that's why she opened this cafe. She doesn't care about money. She cares about her edible creations. It's her passion.

“You know, after my husbands accident, we had a rough patch.” She starts, leaning against the other chair. I nod, sipping at the soup she's brought me. She's told me about her husband before. He was working as a heavy-duty mechanic when a piece of machinery broke off.

“He was told he'd never be able to work again. For a man that used to be his career, you can imagine it was unpleasant news.” She continues. I hum, watching her shift her weight.

“He wasn't getting any better. I tried everything to cheer him up. But, what he wanted was the one thing I didn't think I could give him. He wanted purpose. When we won the lawsuit, all I could think about was my purpose. I felt guilty, because the money afforded me my own dream.” She pauses, motioning around the cafe. I nod, looking around as her hand moves.

“But, he supported me. He helped me to start this cafe. He helped me to achieve my dream. And you know what?” She waits, looking at me. I look up at her.

“He's happy now. He has his purpose, even if it's just helping me. He's happy because it means something to me. It gives him something to do.” She finishes. I nod, looking at the soup.

“It's better than the daily pity party he used to throw himself.” She hints. She puts her hand on one of my shoulders, leaving it there a minute, then heads back to the counter.

This is her way of telling me I need to get a hobby. I think she's tired of me coming in every morning on my way home from work, drunk or hungover. I just don't know where else to go. The hotel is just a reminder of everything I'm running from. I can't face the people I left behind. I haven't spoken to Frankie since his episode of accusations. I know he didn't mean what he said, but he said it. The things we say when our emotions are wild are often the most true. Even if he didn't want to mean it, he did. He doesn't believe I'm good enough for Jared. If he knew half the story, that would be obvious enough. I haven't spoken to Jared since we met at that cafe either. I just don't know what to say to him. He wants to talk about our relationship, but I don't see the point. I'm trying to move on. He has to let me, but he doesn't seem to understand. I'd call Crystal, but I haven't spoken to her in days either. The last time she called it was to discuss what Jesse had told her. I've tried calling him, but he's made it a point not to answer my calls. I'm trying to do what he asked of me. I'm trying to be accommodating. But, it's hard when it feels like everyone is working against me. So I've been living in my own world because it's the only way I can keep living.

At least Diane understands. She doesn't know the details and she doesn't want to. She's neutral that way. But she doesn't have to make conversation with me, either. I just need someone to listen to my words. Although, I know they are pointless. The time for talk is over. The words are meaningless now. I have to take action, but I don't know what action to take. I look over at Diane, who smiles in my direction. She's on the phone, likely with her husband. I think the only reason she lets me stay here is because I remind her of a younger version of herself. She's always telling me about the wayward youth that come in, usually hung over and looking for meaning in life. I told her that I've long accepted that meaning itself is meaningless. She says I'm too young, haven't lived enough. She once told me that one day, it'll make sense. I'll look back at all these mornings and wonder why I didn't see it sooner.

She's like a mother to me. I've never had one of those, but, I'm always happy to try something new. Maybe she's right. Maybe I just need a hobby, something to do. I take a sip of the hot chocolate in front of me. I haven't had one of these since... I don't need a hobby. I just need to pick up the phone.

Chapter 32

Initiative

I'm sitting in a dimly lit restaurant. I started walking and found myself here. I'm in a booth at the back of the place, playing with the insert on the table. I'm pretending to be interested in the dessert choices when I haven't even ordered. I'm waiting for someone. I can't put it off anymore. I know what has to be done. This conversation has been looming over me for too long. I've got nothing to lose now. I look up to the door every time the bell rings, letting the owner know someone new has come in. It's not a big restaurant, they keep track of who comes in and out. The bell goes off for the third time, and I sit up in my seat. I lift my hand, so he sees me.

“Over here.” I call, motioning him to the table I'm sitting at. I'm wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses, so there's a chance he wouldn't recognize me. It's mutual. He looks the same as he did at the photo shoot, dark and gothic. He's part of the label-made machine now, but he doesn't seem to mind. The hostess greeting him leads him to my table. He's got a swing to his hips that says he's high on life. The smile on his face matches. I take my glasses off when they get to the table and the hostess says she'll give us a few minutes to look over the menu. I can tell she recognizes him, because she's hovering longer than anyone else might. He's doesn't seem to mind that either.

“You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you don't like me.” He jokes, sitting down across from me. I smile, lightly shaking my head as I put the insert back down.

“What makes you say that?” I ask. He motions around.

“You invite me to move in, then take off. Now you're asking me to meet you in some a restaurant off the grid. Call it a hunch.” He observes. I shrug, looking at the glass in front of me.

“Once upon a time, I thought the same thing. Turned out, you just liked someone else.” I hint. His smile slowly fades.

“You don't look very good.” He observes softly. I nod my head.

“It's been a rough couple of weeks.” I dismiss. I know one sentence can't make up for my absence. He lets it go and nods like that's how it is. He doesn't know me well enough.

“I wanted to talk to you, before the tour starts. There are things you need to know.” I start. He nods, motioning like I can continue. I don't, as the waitress walks over to our table. He orders a salad and a glass of water. I don't order anything. I haven't eaten since Diane's soup. I hardly see the point, when it's my heart that feels empty.

“About?” He asks as she leaves our table. I shake my head.

“Frankie.” I answer, looking directly at him. He shifts in his seat, noticeably uncomfortable. I nod.

“So I'm not crazy.” I observe out loud. He shakes his head.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He denies, looking around. There are only three other people, a young couple and an older man. He's reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. The young couple is sitting on the same side of a booth, wrapped in their own world. I remember those days.

“I know the two of you used to date, back when you both lived in Los Angeles.” I start. His eyes widen, but only slightly. He seems to be good at controlling his emotions. If I were talking to Jared, he'd be slamming his fist into the table. He'd be one foot out the door, with this look on his face like I... Never mind. I don't need to acknowledge a cafe that's so far from memory now. At least, I'd like to pretend it's far from memory. It's been committed though. Whenever I close my eyes, that's still all I can see. The rage and distaste in his eyes, the hurt he was trying to hide. It was like I ripped his heart out. I should feel satisfied. It should feel like payback for the night he dropped the bomb that ripped mine out. But it feels shallow. He didn't have to deal with the aftermath of those words. He didn't have to see the rage in my eyes. He didn't even know he had done something wrong. I think it's better that way. I've been on both sides of the situation now. I've been wondering what went wrong, wondering how to repair the damage. Neither are pretty or comfortable. Both are ugly and messy. Life is ugly and messy, dashed with moments of brilliance.

“How?” He asks simply. The answer is a loaded gun.

“I'm the reason he left you.” I pull the trigger. The waitress comes back to the table just then, placing the salad down on the table in front of him. He orders a glass of whiskey and she rushes off. I watch him sinking into his seat. I shake my head, taking a deep breath.

“I wanted you to know, because you will find out. You saw the press conference, it was all they wanted to talk about. We joined his band right after, went on tour.” I add. He starts laughing, sitting up straight.

“I know.” He answers, casually. I raise my eyebrow.

“How?” I question. Maybe Jesse didn't keep his mouth shut after all. If he told everyone I was with Frankie, Blake could have easily put the pieces together. I'd say I need to have a talk with Jesse, but he's the last on the list of people I plan on confronting. I didn't take the invitation from Frankie when I left. He still has it. I don't know if he's going to show up. I don't know if he's going to make a scene. He's not that type of person, but, he's also changed a lot. I have no idea what he's capable of. I have no idea what I'm capable of, if my memory of striking him is correct. It's all a blur now.

“I knew he was seeing someone else. I just had the feeling. Then, I saw him out with someone else. It was a week or two before he said he was leaving. I ignored it, pretended I was shocked when he left. I was hurt, sure. But I saw it coming. A guy like that can't be held down and I was lucky to have him for as long as I did. You know?” He explains. I nod along to his story, but my head is spinning. We never went out together during the day. We wanted to avoid being seen, so we were nocturnal. Yet somehow, Blake happened to be on a midnight stroll. He likely saw us showing more public affection than friends would, because we were like that. Yet, he didn't say anything. He accepted his fate. I laugh, thinking about how Frankie once said he was afraid there was a reaction coming from Blake. I guess two years wasn't enough time to learn a thing about the kid.

“You didn't say anything when you joined the band.” I observe. He nods, smiling at the waitress who has just brought him his drink. He downs half the glass in one sip.

“I thought I was being paranoid at first. That was Los Angeles, this was New York. I thought to myself, what are the chances we'd all move here?” He jokes, shaking his head. I shrug.

“Here we are.” I observe. He nods.

“The press conference confirmed it for me. It put the two of you together. I realized I wasn't paranoid. You weren't a doppelganger of the girl I saw him with. You were the same girl, now without him.” He explains. I nod, more to myself.

“I couldn't hold him either.” I attempt to joke. He nods.

“It's fresh for you.” He observes. I shake my head, then nod.

“I've been seeing him again.” I confess. Blake nods.

“Is that why you've been like this?” He motions to the empty drink in front of me. I smile, shaking my head.

“Whose to say I wasn't always like this?” I proposition. He leans back, casually. He puts one of his legs up, crossing it over the other one. He sits his drink on his knee and looks at me.

“Jared.” He answers sharply. I look down at the table.

“Well, you have to know he's worried about you. He says he's never seen you like this. He's really shaken up, feels like it's his fault.” He answers, letting the words sink in. He is lucky that I don't know him very well, or I might be flying across the table for even bringing Jared into this. But I don't. Instead, I feel a sudden sense of relief. He's been talking about me. To Blake, of all people. Maybe he's been talking to the whole band. But, he's mentioned me in front of his boyfriend. That has to mean something. It means that the concern he showed that day wasn't fake. He's genuinely worried. The relief is quickly overshadowed by a sinking feeling. If he feels guilty, he knows what he did. He has to.

“I just don't know what to say to him anymore. I haven't since,” I pause. I don't want to think of that night. Blake nods.

“It's hard to know where to start. But, taking initiative, showing the effort, that means more than the words you say.” He offers, humming as he swirls the ice around his drink.

“Frankie was invited. I don't know who did it or why. But, I thought you should know that he might make a scene. He wasn't happy to find out we replaced him with you. He was,” I pause, shaking that night from my memory too. There are too many wasted nights in my memory. Blake puts his drink on the table, now looking concerned.

“Hurtful.” I dismiss. He nods, leaning back.

“I invited him.” He announces, like the words have no merit, are meaningless. I shoot up in my seat.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” I ask. My voice raises slightly, causing the young couple to look over at us. Blake shrugs, like he doesn't know why I'd be shocked.

“I thought the band could use closure. I mean, Jared doesn't like to talk about it. But, I know he's harboring some mixed emotions. I thought it would help to see him. Crystal says she's moved on, but I don't know about that. I don't know about Charlie, either. He seems alright. For you, the wound is a little more fresh.” He pauses. I nod. I wish my glass wasn't empty because my throat feels dry.

“I don't know what is going on with everyone. But, we need to put the past to rest if we want to move forward without any complications.” He finishes, looking over at me. Jesse's voice is ringing in the back of my head, you need to talk to Jared. That went as well as expected. How does Blake think the confrontation with Frankie is going to go? How is that going to give anyone closure? I don't know what he's thinking, but I have to accept that he knows more about the band than I do. He's closer to everyone. If he thinks it's important, it must be.

“If you say so.” I mutter, surrendering to the idea. He nods.

“I think, Frankie isn't the only closure needed.” He hints. I roll my eyes, looking at my empty glass. The waitress comes over and asks if I'd like a refill. Of course I do. Then I look at Blake. There's something in his eyes, like a warning. I order a coffee instead.

Chapter 33

Forced Apologies

“I called this meeting,” I start, looking around the boardroom. It took me two days, following my conversation with Blake, to have the nerve to do this. But, better late than never. Right now, I feel like a child who was misbehaving in the school playground. Now the teacher is forcing me to apologize to the kid I pushed into the sand box. Even if the kid totally deserved it. Mostly deserved it. Alright, I'll admit I was taking my own frustrations out on that kid. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got punished for it. There's nothing fair about that. But, the pressure was getting too intense. No one seemed to care that it wasn't getting any easier for me. I needed the space. I needed the time. I needed the freedom to figure out what I felt. Still, Blake was right. We can't launch this tour unless we're all on the same page. No one wants to replace me. We're still a team, even though we're falling apart. It's obvious that I'm the weak link. I'm the only thing standing in the way of success. It's time to step down.

“To apologize.” I continue. All eyes are on me. Christine and Gibson are watching from the back of the room, in the shadows. Jared is sitting at the head of the table. Crystal is sitting on the other side of Jared, with Blake beside her. I already spoke to Charlie over the phone. It was easier to apologize to him. He doesn't know half of the problems yet. I've always found confrontation easier over the phone. I'm glad Jesse isn't here, because I have nothing to say to him. He's the only one who could get away with making a comparison between me and Frankie. He hasn't heard the last of my say on the matter. But, this isn't about pointing fingers. This is about accepting responsibility for my own actions. I called this meeting. It was my decision, although it was influenced by Blake. My eyes find their way to him. He's offering a supportive smile and nodding.

“I've been dropping the ball. I realize that. I've been a royal fuck up.” I let the statement be blunt. Everyone is listening intently, regardless of my choice of words. I am the ever-elusive self-proclaimed front man of the band. It's not an accurate description. I'm not the front man. I never was to begin with, but it was a title I took when I put the band together. A title I gave to Blake when he joined, even if I hadn't realized until now. I look at him again. Right now, I feel like I need his approval before I say anything.

“It has been pointed out to me by many people now. Jesse told me this was my last chance, so, I'm going to try to make it count. I'm going to try and be better.” My eyes go around the room until they find themselves on the one person who deserves the real apology.

“For you.” I finish, leaving my eyes on him. He looks down at the floor, shying away from the eye contact. I don't need a magnifying glass to know the corners of his lips are turning into a smile. It's not much. In fact, it's nothing to most people. But it's everything to him. I know that. He looks back up and he's not trying to hide his smile. He just nods, like he knows what I'm thinking.

“It's good to have you back.” Blake offers, breaking the silence that's fallen over the room. He's the first out of his seat, walking towards me. He opens his arms and I accept his embrace. Crystal is the next, walking over to me with her arms crossed over her chest. She's tapping her foot on the ground, like she's mad at me. She's going to give me a peace of her mind. She might throw something at me. At the very least, she's going to yell at me, like she yelled at Frankie. I know she wants to, but the smile on her face suggests that she won't.

“It's about time.” She throws her arms around me. I nod.

“It's better late than never.” I argue, stepping back. I look over at Blake, who has a massive smile across his face. He's almost glowing with excitement. He's proud he was able to bring me here. He was able to get through to me. The people I've known the longest couldn't strike a chord. But, this complete stranger could. Maybe that's exactly why. I needed an outsider to tell me what a fuck up I had become. He wasn't basing it on who I had been, or who I have the potential to be. He based it on knowing who I am right now. He called it like he sees it, with a limited vision and no bias. It worked. I'm not too proud to admit it worked. I called Blake to clear the air about Frankie, but maybe there was more to it. I needed preparation for this exact moment, looking over at him. He's slowly walking towards me, but his shoulders are tense. I don't know how to read his body language anymore. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't look around the room. He launches forward and pulls me into his arms. His fingertips press into the back of my shirt and I tightly clutch onto him. This is all that has ever made sense to me. Right here.

“I'm so sorry.” I whisper, barely audible over my pounding heart beat. He nods against my temple.

“I know you are. I am too.” He agrees. We stay this way for longer than we should before he finally steps backwards. I briefly make eye contact, before sitting down at the table.

The boardroom feels so much bigger than it did when I got here earlier. I came in three hours early, trying to prepare myself for the confrontation. I had a lot of time to sit here, prepare what I was going to say. Then the panic started to sink in. I asked myself what I was even doing here. I could have stayed at the hotel, but, it felt constrictive. Diane is out of town for the week, taking away that hide out too. I didn't want to be alone, over thinking the problems of tomorrow. I don't know if Frankie is going to the release party. I can't know until the night of, unless I call him. But I've told myself I won't. It didn't work last time, it won't work this time. I know Blake said the invitation was to give the band closure. But I think part of it was for closure himself, too. He never got the chance to face Frankie after the break-up, because Frankie left on tour. He said Jared needed the closure. I said Jared needed the closure. But Jared hasn't been hurting over Frankie. I spent enough time alone, contemplating what it all meant. I wanted to believe I wasn't the issue for him, but I was. I thought he had distanced himself because of Frankie. I thought I wasn't right for him, wasn't enough, wasn't the right gender. I just wasn't letting myself see clearly anymore, believing anything that hurt less. I couldn't handle Frankie's dismissal, but I shrugged those feelings off on Jared. I couldn't handle my own alcoholism, but I shrugged that problem off on Crystal. No matter what the issue was, I gave it to someone else. Frankie was right. I was one foot out the door long before I even realized. It wasn't Jared who withdrew, it was me. I never made it to New York. I got lost somewhere between state lines. I took a wrong turn in Albuquerque. My body got here. My heart never made it.

“I have a treat for you guys.” Blake announces, but he's looking directly at me as he sits down.

“What?” I ask. He motions to the room behind us. I hadn't noticed it before now. The quiet boardroom is slowly filled with sound as the volume is adjusted through the speakers. Jesse comes out of the second room, looking directly at Blake. He nods, seeming satisfied. He leans back in his chair and drops both of his hands into his lap. I vaguely recognize the sound.

“Most bands don't want to listen to themselves.” Jesse observes, dropping down at the table. He's avoiding eye contact. We aren't exactly on good terms. I hear Crystal clapping from beside me. She's pointing up at the speakers.

“This is us.” She squeaks, now bouncing in her seat. I listen closely. It's quiet enough for a room this size. I raise my eyebrow, looking over at Blake. He's smiling wide, nodding his head along to the beat. Jared is back in his seat, but he's not listening to the music. I can tell his mind is elsewhere. He was the producer of this album, so he knows it like the back of his hand by now. He knows every note and every line. I assume Blake has heard it many times, but he seems pleased none the less. Crystal is now dancing in her seat, moving to the music. It's not dance worthy, but she's managing anyway. Blake looks at me, establishing eye contact. Then he smiles. He's not interested in listening to the album. He's trying to prove a point. He's showing me that we managed to create this work of art, despite my best efforts to mess everything up. I never went to the practices. I only went into the studio after hours, with Gibson. I just couldn't be bothered otherwise. I hated singing. I hated playing. I hated leaving my house. The house. Apartment. His apartment. I let myself foolishly think this time was going to be different or something. That he was my escape from the same life he threw me into.

I should have known I was wrong. And I won't call him. I won't answer his calls, either. He has tried a few times since our confrontation on the street. I ignored them. I even called the phone company and had his number blocked. He knows where I used to live, but I never said I was going home. I haven't gone home either. I don't want things to be the same way they were. This is just a small step forward. I still need closure. I need to know things are going to be different. Better. I have to know things are going to be alright between me and Jared.

We're joined shortly by a young woman I don't recognize. Jesse introduces her as his new assistant. She looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on where I might know her from. At first, I think she's the woman from the release party, Jesse's new girlfriend. But she isn't. She brings in a bottle of champagne and a tray filled with empty glasses. Jesse fills each of the glasses, passing them out. Then his eyes rest on me. He hands me an empty glass. I nod, but everyone else seems shocked. I think the look on Jared's face summarizes how everyone else feels. He's waiting for the punchline.

“Thank you.” I dismiss, looking down at the table. I don't need to make a scene. We don't need to talk about it. The action of accepting an empty glass says enough.

“To moving forward.” Blake offers, holding up his glass. Everyone else joins, but I just smile. He smiles in my direction. He's still got a look of pride on his face. It's both the album we're listening to, and the empty glass in front of me. It's not just taking initiative. It's taking action. It's doing what you say you're going to do. It's proving your words instead of speaking them. I've spent too much time living under the guise of a perfect life. I'm too tired to try and fake it. I want something comfortable, but it has to be real. It can't be a mirage. A masquerade. I need something concrete to hold onto, because I've started losing grip. I let myself believe in Frankie because I needed to believe in something. I had believed in my friendship with Jared, that we would move on, move past each other. But that night, he broke into my ideal world. He gave me a glimpse of the reality I wasn't ready to face. Frankie was there, but it wasn't real. I was just looking for a piece of something that I'd never have again. Something that had been missing since I found out about James. We could have never been the same. We are nothing more than a memory.

I can hear Blake talking about the album, how we made this for ourselves. Although we started with the fame that Frankie gave us, we've created this spotlight. Us, and the great management team we have. A round of applause breaks out at the table. Everyone continues sipping champagne. Blake directs the conversation. Everyone follows along with him. The music really came together. I couldn't deny it if I wanted to. Blake's voice is raw, but in all the best ways. I can hear Crystal singing in the background, a few octaves lower. They decided he would sing and she would scream along. I can imagine doing this all live. The two of them will break into random screaming matches. They will be red-faced and their veins will be jutting out. Jared will be smashing on a drum kit at the back of the stage, while Charlie rocks out at the front. I'll be beside the stage, barely visible with the table I've been moved to. They went ahead and shifted the band, took me off the bass. I can't say I mind. I don't look forward to getting back on stage. We're only a few weeks from it becoming a reality now.

It's all fitting together. The bigger picture is getting clear. Everyone laughs and smiles. The atmosphere is light and conversation fills the air. But we aren’t talking.

Chapter 34

Conversation

“So.” He starts, breaking the silence that's washed over us. It's almost 3 in the morning. Everyone else has made their way home. We were the last two standing. I don't know if it was intentional, or accidental. Blake looked at me knowingly before he left. I don't know what he was thinking. He's a man of mystery, that's for sure. If I thought he had a malicious bone in his body, I'd be worried. But, I don't think I have anything to worry about. He's going through a good deal of effort to try and bring everyone together. He's trying to patch holes that he didn't create. He wouldn't put in this kind of work for selfish reasons. Fame isn't worth all of us. Especially, us.

“So.” I repeat, laughing nervously. I still don't know what to say to him. I don't know where to start. First date questions come to mind. When you're getting to know someone, you're often nervous about

asking the wrong things. It's worse when you've known each other for as long as we have. We've seen the highs and lows. But, that makes it more likely to ask the wrong thing. You can dig too deep because you're familiar with the ground. Familiarity tugs at the heart more than curiosity. I know he's thinking the same thing based on the look on his face. He laughs, looking down at the table. I never realized how much I missed that smile. The way his lips curl and the little wrinkles that appear in the corner. His age is impossible to tell. He'll look young forever. Every once in a while, one of those wrinkles will remind you that he's at least legal drinking age. If a day. But the best thing about his smile is the way his eyes light up. You can see the genuine happiness. It looks so fucking good on him. Of course, he always looks good. He'd look good wearing a paper bag. It's not like I forgot how attractive he is. I just wanted to. If I could have turned him into nothing more than a faded memory, I would have. But I couldn't. I couldn't when I knew our relationship was over. I certainly couldn't now that I know it's not. He's biting on the side of his lip, like he always does when he's nervous.

“You don't have to be nervous around me.” I assure him. It doesn't seem to register. He's not looking directly at me anymore. His eyes have moved down, now he's looking at my lips. He's not nervous, he's just distracting himself. I can't help but laugh, looking down at the table. I guess he realizes what he's doing, because he does the same thing, beginning to laugh.

“I didn't mean to.” He starts apologizing, but trails off. I nod.

“I know. It's familiar. I get it. Its hard to know where the lines are, so it's easy to cross them.” I try to sympathize. He smiles.

“I know where the lines are. It doesn't stop me from wanting to cross them.” He answers confidently. I don't know if that's supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn't. I think it's too early in the morning to be having this conversation. I'm too drunk for these words and he's too drunk to know what he's saying. None of that is true. I haven't been drinking at all. He only had one glass of champagne. There is no alcohol to blame, but it would be easier if there was. At least none of the tension is aggressive. There's something in the air, but it's gentle. We're easing into this, even if it gets rocky.

“Look, Jared, I know that everything is a mess right now, but, I don't want things to be weird between us. I mean, I want to be okay again.” I start. He nods, looking up at me. His eyes meet mine and I feel like my heart is melting through my chest. A sudden burning sensation is taking over my insides. I feel hot, like the temperature has gone up. But it's all him. I know it is.

“For the band.” I joke. He laughs, which eases the tension.

“But, it's not about the band.” He implies. I shake my head, dropping my hands on the table.

“No.” I agree. His hand moves forward, resting over mine.

“I've had too much time to think. About the way we ended, about, what Frankie did. I guess, about how it all felt. I know I pushed you away. You were trying to help, but I wouldn't let you.” He pauses as he speaks, like he's reliving the moments all over again. I stay quiet.

“I didn't want it.” He continues. I nod, my fingers brushing his.

“No one wanted the split. It had to happen. We couldn't exactly stay working with him, after what he did.” I offer pointlessly. I know he's not talking about the band. The chuckle confirms it.

“You know what I meant.” He mumbles. I nod.

“You didn't voice what you wanted. You said space, I gave you space. I guess I gave you too much, because the next thing I knew, you were over it. Or you seemed over it at least. You were going out with other people, having a good time. Maybe too good even.” I remind him, finally leaning forward. The expression on his face is concern, with a hint of embarrassment.

“I didn't mean to.” He repeats. I nod.

“I know. I had to watch you move on. I hoped it was what you needed to get over everything. I hoped somewhere it the future, we'd patch things up.” I pause again, looking over at him.

“I didn't want this either, Jared. We were finally figuring us out. We had it. Finally. After years of looking for each other, we had finally settled into something that felt,” I stop, thinking if a word even exists to describe my thoughts. But everything seems to fall short. I think of laying in that berry-covered hotel bed, laughing at nothing. I think of the comfortable silence on the Florida beach. I think of staring across the water in New Jersey at the skyline of New York. We enjoyed every minute we were together. We spent our days talking about everything. We were so lost in our own world that nothing else seemed to matter. But, it made everything better. The band, the music, the traveling and jet lag. Even Crystal seemed happy that we were so, aloof. It was so...

“Perfect.” He offers. I laugh, shaking my head.

“That's a little cheesy, but, yes.” I agree. He nods.

“I know. I wish I could have expressed the way it broke me, you know?” He's trying not to look down at the table. He's trying to maintain eye contact. This is important. This conversation has to happen. Everyone has said so. But that doesn't make it any easier, for either of us. We've been avoiding each other for weeks and avoiding the subject for much longer.

“I knew, Jared. Even without words. I knew what you were going through. And I did the best I could to be understanding, even when it hurt. But, it was hard on me. Really hard. You didn't seem to realize, I wasn't ready yet.” I mumble, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Ready for what?” He asks, leaning forward as well. I shrug.

“I wasn't ready to move on Jared. I wasn't ready to give up.” I answer, trying to be as honest as possible. It's hard to get honesty out of me, but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know that I broke the promise I made. That I've been doing nothing but lying to him. But I'll start being honest.

“The night of the release party,” I pause, making sure he's listening. He nods, looking guilty.

“I know.” He agrees. I don't have to say it. I take a deep breath.

“You said it so casually. Like, it didn't matter. I don't want to blame you for my behavior. It's not your fault, not at all. But, that fucked me up. I'd be lying if I said it didn't.” I try to laugh, but it's hard to breathe. The oxygen is afraid if it enters my lungs, it'll never leave.

“I knew that was why you started getting distant. I wanted to blame something else, anything else. I guess I just didn't realize how heavy those words were going to be. I was too used to saying them.” He mumbles, now looking down at the table.

“But you hadn't said them in so long.” I remind him.

“That doesn't mean I didn't want to. It doesn't mean that I wasn't thinking it. I hope you know, I’ll never stop feeling it.” He assures. We're both quiet for a minute.

“It slipped, and I know I shouldn't have said it. I mean, I should have said it. But, I should have told you that I still felt it. I should have told you that you weren't the problem, that it was me. I was just too hung up on my own pain. I was being selfish. I didn't even see I was pushing you away until that night.” He's still rambling, but I can't help but smile. It's good to know it wasn't said out of habit.

“What I mean is, I should have told you it was on my mind.” He confesses. I nod, letting myself laugh. He smiles and I bite the side of my lip.

“Yeah. I think I should have been the first to know.” I try and joke. The laughter doesn't make the words weightless. They are still heavy, sinking us down like the anchor to a ship. But like an anchor, it grounds us. It gives us something to hold onto.

“You were pulling away.” He reminds me. I slowly nod.

“I know.” I admit.

“I guess I thought if you knew, you'd come back.” He rolls his eyes, like that was a waste of time.

“I just didn't realize. And, I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for my reaction the last time we tried to talk. I just wanted you to say you still felt it too. Let me know I wasn't going crazy.” He continues. I smile, shaking my head. I stand up, moving to stand in front of him. I keep his hand in mine as I move.

“Well, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but, you are crazy.” I joke. He smiles, one of those genuine smiles that lights up his entire face. I hesitate in front of him, letting my hands drop.

“But I'll always feel the same, Jared.” I assure, looking down at him. He stands up, wrapping both of his arms around me. He pulls me tightly to his chest. Closer than he did earlier. Closer than I think he has ever held me. And I press my hands against his back, harder than I ever have. And I feel something I haven't in a long time. Something I didn't think I could feel.

“I've fucking missed you.” He whispers, pressing his lips to the top of my head. I step back and move to my tip-toes, softly pressing my lips to his. He doesn't hesitate kissing back just as quickly. Pushing the kiss from "hello" into a "welcome back".

The force of longing lovers. There's a desperation in his embrace now. Something frantic that seems to want to hold on to this moment. The same feeling is brewing inside of me. I have fought so hard not to feel a thing anymore. I wasn't able to handle the intensity of my own emotions. I wasn't able to handle the disappointment of a faded love I had grown so sure of. I had let myself build a future on rocky grounds with someone I knew would only let me down again. Then I drank to forget all of the above. I drank until the pain was only a numb throbbing. I drank until I no longer felt the piercing through the flesh of my heart. But holding him, feeling his breath mixing with my own, our lips crashing together like waves. It feels right. Being in his arms always felt like home. He feels comfortable, safe. Even after all the time and distance, he still feels right. I guess that's why my heart has stopped putting up a front. My heart is finally giving in to everything I've ever felt for the only person who has ever mattered: Him.

Chapter 35

Home

We didn't talk much when we were at the hotel. There was nothing to say. I think he was confused about why I'd choose living like that instead of being home. It wasn't a luxury palace or anything. In fact, I was lucky to come back to the door still attached. But it was an escape. I can't tell him that. I maintained that I need space. I said I'd stay here for a while longer. Once he saw the place, he insisted I leave. He said I had a home, I didn't need to live like this. At the end of the conversation, my suitcase was packed. I left the key with the receptionist, who seemed happy to see I was leaving. I don't think I was a problem. I just think she knew I had better places to be. I don't think anyone would understand my choice to live there. They don't need to either. I understood. I had to be away from him in order to move on.

Only, it seems he has no plan to do so himself.

Now that we're standing outside the apartment, my knees feel weak. He's had his arm around my lower back, guiding me to this point. Now, he moves his hand, opening the door in front of us. I look around, but my legs won't move forward. There's nothing different, from what I can see. The same furniture we moved into, the same boxes in the corner. There may be one or two more, now that Blake is living here. I never noticed because I was hardly home.

“Come on.” He insists, putting his hand on my shoulder. He nods, like he knows what I'm thinking right now. I feel strange, being here. It hasn't been that long, yet it's been a lifetime. So many things have happened since I last stepped foot in this place. With me, with them. The world keeps moving, even if you hide away to avoid watching. His smile is the only thing that feels truly welcoming. He's letting me know that it's okay to be nervous, while reminding me this is my home. I chose this place. I also chose to leave it all behind. I also chose that hotel. I chose Frankie. I chose him. I’ve made a lot of bad choices. I step forward, forcing my legs to move. He shuts the door behind me, then heads to his room. I watch him walk away, abandoning me in this strange place. I stand in the doorway with my suitcase in front of me. I'm clutching it with both hands, so tightly they are starting to lose color. I feel like I'm slipping away. This suitcase is the last thing I have, the only thing to ground me. My eyes dart around, trying to remember how this works. I hope the awkwardness will fade. As long as I'm here, it won't. He didn't understand that either. He said it was all in my head. There was no awkwardness. But he can't feel what I feel right now. Being here, being around him. It's awkward.

Crystal comes out of her bedroom, hearing the door shut. She's calling to Jared about dinner, but she freezes when she sees me standing there. Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops like she can't believe what her eyes are seeing. Her arms are outstretched, even though she's a good distance from me. She closes that distance quickly, wrapping me in her arms. The suitcase presses between us, but that doesn't discourage her at all. I look around again, trying to avoid her beaming eyes and welcoming smile. It's not that I don't want to be welcomed here. It's just that I know I'm not. Not in my mind. Not after the disappearing act. Everything I did when I was away, who I did those things with. Not after the make-out session in the boardroom last night. Not after what I put him through, when I clearly had the power to make it all stop. The worst of it all has yet to find it's way to the surface. I know that. It's pulling at my stomach like a sinking ship. I don't know how anyone is going to react. But, I know I can't hide from the facts forever.

My guilty conscious is heavy this morning, dragging me down like a stone falling into the lake. All this time I've been skipping over the waters. But you can only glide along for so long. I've borrowed enough time already. I may have quit drinking. I may have faced the consequences of my disappearing act. Maybe I even made things okay again with Jared. But no amount of change can trick me into thinking I deserve this. This life. These people. This warmth. I picked this place for them, because it was luxurious. There was enough space for everyone and it met everyone’s needs. I thought they deserved the best. But they never got it because they were stuck with me. Happily, it would seem.

Crystal pulls one of my hands from the suitcase, taking it in hers lovingly. She's got a friendly embrace as she pulls me down the hall to where our bedrooms are. Crystal opens the door to my bedroom with her other hand. She must sense that I don't want to be here. I wouldn't open that door myself, because I don't want to know what is on the other side. Nothing has changed. My bedroom is still the way I left it. Neat and vacant. I don't have anything out on the dressers. I don't have anything hanging on the walls. I never really settled in here, either. I've always been ready to drop everything and go. Isn't that what I'm the best at? Vanishing acts. They think it strange, out of character. But Jared knows better. Jared knows how common they were for me. But I always came back. Because no matter how far I go, I will always come back to him. I notice the picture on the nightstand, unmoved. Only, I had left it face-down. It's a picture I took of Jared when he wasn't paying attention to me. He doesn't know I took it, or that I have it on the bedside table. I do my best to hide it when anyone might come into the room. I see Jared coming in here, recalling our last conversation. I see him noticing the frame, turning it the right way. Maybe he even picked it up, sat down on the bed and wondered why I had it in the first place.

The reason for both is the same: Home is anywhere with him.

Chapter 36

Confessions

The kitchen isn't exactly small. It's probably one of the biggest ones I've ever had. It looks like it's designed for a better purpose than the occasional meal for a single person. But then, I'm finding out that it's never been used as such anyway. Before Blake moved in, we lived off take-out food from the restaurant up the street. After he moved in, Jared started cooking meals. He would give up the kitchen to Charlie, whenever he visited. Or the two would cook together. No matter who was in the kitchen, Crystal and Blake would sit at the island and talk. Occasionally, Crystal would help by fetching some ingredient from the pantry. Or Blake would take a short walk to the store for something they were missing. When dinner was done, they sat around this same island. They enjoyed the home-cooked food and talked about work. They made plans for the following weekend, when Charlie would be back up. I picture this domestic life they had for themselves. A life I don't fit into. The island is just between the kitchen and the living room. It doesn't feel like a part of either room. It's lingering in the middle, but it's there because Jared wanted it to be.

“I'm excited. I mean, I've really missed him. I guess I didn't realize how much, keeping myself busy with work and stuff.” Crystal rambles, looking down at her coffee cup. I hum.

“When are you coming back?” I ask. She points to the calendar on the wall in the kitchen. The 25^th of November is circled on the calendar in bright red. I laugh, shaking my head.

“You could have said a week.” I remind her. She nods, slowly.

“Yes, but this way, you'll look at the calendar. You should get used to that. Now that you're home.” She insists, smiling to herself. I nod, briefly looking at the calendar again. It has the work schedules on it too. Blake has his shifts marked in green, Jared's are in blue. Crystal has drawn a bunch of things around the outside, but, she has no schedule. She makes it up each day. Beside the calendar is a list of phone numbers. I can't make them out, but I recognize Jesse's. I still need to have a word with him, before he says anything to anyone.

“It'll be nice to have him here, wake up beside him in the mornings.” She trails off, a dreamy tone to her voice. I know she's in her own head. She looks over sympathetically.

“I'm sorry. That was insensitive.” She apologizes.

“No, it is nice. I mean, I got used to it too. I should have known it wasn't going to last. It never does.” I don't mean to sound as longing as I do, letting these words roll off my tongue.

“I know how weird things are between you and Jared right now. But you'll figure it out. You always manage to work things out.” She offers, faking a smile. We don't talk about the awkwardness. We hadn't in a long time. It wasn't a new development. It had nothing to do with Blake, or my disappearance. It was something that happened right after Frankie. Which is exactly why my brain was happy to put the blame on him, instead of realizing it was my own fault. Maybe Jared never wanted space. Maybe it was the opposite of what he needed. But he said it was what he wanted.

“You're the one who said we didn't. We never would.” I remind her. She nods, recalling the comment.

“I know. That's the thing about love. As an outsider to any relationship, you can't know the dynamics. You see what you see, but you don't see it all. The highs, lows and those special moments in between. I didn't think you two were good for each other. All I saw was the dysfunction.” She pauses, looking up at me. I nod, because I know she's right. We were dysfunctional.

“Then you left.” She adds, taking a deep breath.

“How did that change anything?” I ask. She shrugs.

“It changed him. I know he hasn't been himself since Frankie. But, without you, I don't know. It may be dysfunctional when you're together, but it doesn't work at all when you're apart. I think, he needs you. And I think you need him too.” She finishes, slowly shaking her head. I don't know if she's just saying it, or if she actually believes it.

“That’s sweet, but he’s better off. He smiled more often. He went out and socialized. He was happy. He doesn't need me, even if he did. He's moved on.” I argue. She laughs.

“Or was he trying to convince himself that he could exist without you?” She counters. I don't reply.

“Look, you saw what he wanted you to see, right? Maybe he thought, if you thought he was better, you'd come back.” She offers, smiling. But there's a sadness to her tone.

“We saw.” She stops, shaking her head.

“Did he?” I don't have to finish. She shakes her head.

“No. Not sex or drinking or even drugs. Nothing. He had shut off, completely.” She recalls. I deserve the guilty conscious.

“Yesterday was the first time I've seen him smile in weeks. It was nice.” She smiles wide. I nod.

“It's going to be short lived when he finds out where I've been.” I mumble, mostly to myself. I notice there are a lot of middles being left out. A lot of middles being overlooked. Ignored. Denied. Like nothing in between could possibly matter.

“The hotel?” She asks, seeming confused. I look up, suddenly aware of what I said. She looks upset.

“Is there something you're not telling me?” She asks. Her expression looks like a mix of concern and anger. If Jesse had told someone, everyone would know. I can take comfort in knowing he kept his mouth shut. But, it's only a matter of time before everyone finds out. If Frankie shows up at the release party, they'll know. Do I want Crystal to get upset in front of a crowd? No, I should let her lash out at me in the privacy of our kitchen. Somewhere no one could overhear the conversation. I don't want her to be the last person to find out.

“Yeah.” I agree, shaking my head. She leans forward.

“I lied about the release party. Frankie showed up after you left.” I start. Her shock amplifies.

“What happened? I mean, why didn't you tell me?” She asks, pushing the subject further. Her voice is cracking as she slurs her words together in a mix of panic and excitement. I sigh.

“I didn't tell you because of what happened.” I answer loosely. She nods, motioning for me to go on.

“I went back to his place. That's where I've been.” I pause, chewing on my tongue. Her hand flies over her mouth.

“You didn't.” She argues, seeming scandalized. I nod.

“You went back to him?” She questions. I shrug. I guess if she wants to summarize it like that, she can. If it makes her feel better to give it a title. We never talked about it. Of course, we never talked about anything. I can't believe I let myself think it would be different.

“I was in such a fucked up place. Jared was upset that we lied to him about where we were. He was upset that I was out with Jesse too. Then he told me he loved me. And Jesse had taken off. And Frankie was there. I just wanted to believe it would be different. I wanted to believe it could be something. Anything. I needed an escape. I couldn't face reality. And, I know it doesn't change anything. I know I should have told you.” I am aware that I have started to randomly string excuses together, like that makes it any better. I still lied to my friend.

“So, what happened?” She asks, now sounding sympathetic. Her voice has lowered to let me know shes not upset. She's not attacking me. She's just curious, with a hint of concern. I sigh.

“Between us?” I ask. She nods. I laugh, shaking my head.

“He freaked when he found out that we had replaced him with his ex-boyfriend. He accused me of sleeping with him too.” I pause, laughing. Crystal shakes her head.

“It's the unfaithful who accuse of infidelity.” She offers. I nod.

“That's not what hurt.” I correct, still trying to forget that night.

“What did he say?” She asks, not letting it go. I shake my head, looking down at the table.

“Jared was wasting his time with me. That, I didn't deserve him.” I offer. Crystal looks shocked, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just looks down at the table between the two of us. She's refusing to make eye contact. When she does, I realize she's not looking at me. She's looking past me at the person standing behind me. The one I hadn't become aware of yet. But, I am now. I guess I was wrong. Someone could overhear this conversation. It happened to be the one person I didn't want to know. I was going to tell him, of course. But I had to find the wording first. I turn around, faking a smile.

“You were so hurt... You turned to him?” His voice cracks as he emphasizes the "him" with as much distaste as he can muster. I don't even know what to say to him. What can I say?

“Everything has been so confusing.” I mumble, trying to justify myself. But I know I can't. No amount of excuses can save this one. I sigh, shaking my head as my eyes fall to the floor.

“I shouldn't have come back.” I mumble, letting my head hang in shame. Jared doesn't say anything. He puts his hand on my shoulder and steps closer. When I don't push him back, he wraps his arms around me, pulling my head to his chest.

“I'm not mad. Don't think for a second that I'm mad. Hurt, maybe. Confused, definitely. But not mad.” He assures me, but I feel the reassurance is somewhat forced. Like, it's taking him effort to try and be there for me when he just wants to yell. Maybe storm out, send me out. Something. Anything other than understanding, because that, I don't understand. I slowly drag my head up, finally looking at him. There's no resentment in his eyes. I only see the hurt. That kills me more than his anger would. I'd rather him be angry with me than sad. I hate seeing him sad, knowing it was my fault. I shake my head, dropping my gaze back to the floor. Suddenly, hyper aware of the guilt as well. The feeling that I don't deserve anything I have. I hear footsteps coming from beside us. I pull back, moving away from Jared. I turn around on the stool to face Blake with a fake smile. He looks around the room, raising his eyebrow. His eyes land over my shoulder, on Jared. Then he nods.

“I'm guessing you told them.” He observes, heading to the coffee pot. Crystal spins around and stares at him, eyes wide.

“You knew?” She squeaks, crossing her arms over her chest. He nods, briefly looking at her.

“Yeah.” He answers. He pulls out a stool and sits down.

“Uh, were you going to tell us?” She asks, still staring at him. He shakes his head, sipping his coffee.

“It wasn't my place. Besides, I knew she would tell you when she was ready.” He corrects, looking at me. I look down at the table. I feel Jared's arms wrapping around my waist.

“Better late than never.” He whispers, pressing his lips into my ear. I fake a smile, looking up at him. As I do, his lips find their way to mine. Softly, at first. Then more pressing. For a minute, I let myself forget where I am. Even who I am. The awareness rushes over me. I pull back from Jared, looking over. He doesn't seem to care, crunching on an apple he's picked up.

“I'm sorry.” I offer anyway. He laughs, shaking his head.

“For?” He asks, pretending to be oblivious. Crystal smiles.

“She doesn't realize.” She offers, pouting. I raise my eyebrow.

“I don't realize what?” I question. Jared pulls me back.

“We're not together.” He assures me. I look over my shoulder.

“I thought you were.” I correct. He shakes his head.

“We’re just friends.” Blake corrects. My eyes find Crystal, who is looking around the room.

“You told me.” I remind her. She nods and I can tell she's trying to come up with an excuse. I recall my conversation with Frankie, the night of the release party. I told him how happy Jared was, how well Crystal was doing. It was a lie. But I wanted him to feel guilty for what he had done to us.

Crystal only said it so I would feel the weight of my absence. Living well is the best revenge, after all.

Chapter 37

Replacements

It felt odd, waking up in my own bed. I was greeted by a view of New York that is all too familiar. Her cold streets and bitter winds. Her distance from the rest of the world. Jesse was right when he said I had a New York heart. But he was stupid enough to fall in love. This morning, as my feet hit the floor of my own bedroom, I felt the weight of that too. I didn't mean to lead him on, but it's becoming obvious I had. I think of the nights we spent together, the mornings we woke up together. Then I think of always coming to him with my concerns about Jared. Asking his opinion on what would make Jared's life easier. Asking him to help me make Jared happy. It was too much weight. It's no wonder the foundation collapsed. I could apologize now, but we'll never be the same. Maybe that's for the best. The way things were didn't work for either of us. He wanted more, I wanted someone else.

I drag my feet with every step towards the kitchen. Blake is the only one home, I believe. Crystal left for Illinois yesterday evening. She barely looked at me before she left, but, she told me she expected to see me when she got home. I don't blame her for the silence. The air was heavy in the apartment after the news about Frankie. I'm guessing Jared was up and out the door this morning, heading for the studio. His bedroom door is open, which means he isn't home. Blake greets me with a massive smile, motioning to the seat across from him. We didn't talk yesterday, either.

“Good morning.” He greets, cheerfully. I shake my head.

“Morning.” I muster, heading for the coffee pot. After I've made my coffee, I sit down across from him, putting the porcelain mug on the marble surface of the island. He nods.

“I think we need to have a chat.” He observes. I fake a smile.

“That sounds like fun.” I mock. He waves his hand at me, the way Crystal always does, to silence me.

“Me and Jared, that's a complicated thing.” He starts. I nod.

“I don't see how. You like each other. That's been obvious since day one.” I observe. He waves his hand, like it's only half-truth.

“We have awesome chemistry, I’m not going to lie. But Jared’s eyes are closed to the world.” He corrects, making eye contact. I shake my head, looking down at the table.

“That's what Frankie said.” I observe. He nods.

“It's the truth. I know love isn't always enough to make a relationship work. I’ve learned that the hard way.” He pauses, making sure that I'm following. I nod to let him know I am.

“It's more than that with the two of you.” He observes. I shrug.

“We've never been on the same page. I thought we were, then everything fell apart. He pulled away, like he always does. I lost him, like I always do. I can't hold on to anyone.” I mumble, shaking my head. Blake laughs, finishing off his coffee.

“I think, maybe, you pulled away because you were afraid of being happy.” He corrects. I raise my eyebrow, looking up. He shrugs, like it's just an observation. I want to argue him, deny it.

“You're right.” But I don't, because it's the truth.

“I'm not saying there’s anything wrong with Jared. I can see he's cute, he's sweet, he's charming.” He pauses again, drawing my attention back to him. I smile, because he's right. Jared is everything and more. But with all the good comes a suitcase full of insecurities and instability. It's hard to learn what triggers him and what calms him down. It takes years of familiarity to get there.

“He needs a friend, not a lover. He has one already. I'm hardly a suiting replacement.” Blake observes, smirking. I fake a smile.

“Neither I am.” I correct. Blake smiles, looking at the table.

“You think he's hung up on Frankie?” He asks softly. I nod, then shake my head.

“I thought so. Frankie said it was me. Crystal said it was me. Gibson said it was me. Everyone seems to think I'm the problem.” I pause. Blake crosses his arms over his chest.

“Forget them. What do you feel?” He asks. I'm quiet.

“If I'm the problem, it's not my absence that hurts. It's being here.” I hint, motioning around.

“Do you really believe that? Or are you so afraid of failure that you'll believe anything to make it hurt less?” He counters. His tone isn't judgmental. It's lighthearted. Propositional.

“Blake, you are the only person who could get away with this psych lecture without getting punched.” I observe. He shrugs.

“I'm just magical like that. I'm a unicorn.” He answers, whimsically. I shake my head, but don't reply.

“Good morning.” Jared greets, coming into the kitchen. I look towards the open bedroom door, then back at him. He's still wearing his pajamas, which are gray and white with a plaid design. He's got a plain black t-shirt on, but it's obvious by the lack of wrinkles that he didn't sleep in it. His hair is a mess, but with one brush of his hand, falls perfectly into place. He looks well-rested. That makes one of us. Even Blake looks like he had trouble falling asleep. I don't greet Jared, instead choosing to look down at the island. I hope that Blake will carry the conversation. Instead, he stands up.

“Well, I'm off to work.” He calls, heading for the front door. He does nothing more than smile in my direction. I try to put in effort, smiling back, but it's hard. Jared sits down at the island in the same seat Blake abandoned. We look at each other and exchange a smile. Somehow, it doesn't feel as awkward as I thought it would, just being the two of us. Jared is running his index finger around the rim of his coffee cup, clearly trying to come up with something to say. I try not tp look at him, or stare too obviously. I've been trying not to for weeks, but it never gets easier. My eyes are always drawn to him, even if it's through a mirror or a reflective surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I always seem to find him. I am just hyper aware of his presence. He's just too beautiful to pull my eyes away from. The way he smiles and the wrinkles around his soft lips. The way the light in his eyes brightens even the darkest of rooms. The way his t-shirt always pulls up ever-so-slightly, showing off those protruding hipbones. The same details I memorized in the cold Illinois months, even though I was keeping my hands to myself. The same details I've tried not to think about since, knowing how wrong everything went. The same details I've managed to commit to memory, because nothing has ever felt so comforting. The silence carries my thoughts to every corner of the room. He coughs, clearing his throat.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, I overheard your conversation with Blake.” He announces. I nod.

“I didn't know you were home.” I defend. He laughs, looking over at his bedroom. I follow his glance to avoid looking up him. I feel the floor shift as he stands up, walking towards me.

“Hey.” He calls softly, attracting my eyes to his lips. I nod, slowly, trying not to stare. I move my eyes up to meet his and we're locked in what feels like a staring contest. I don't blink, neither does he. The intensity leaves my mind racing, forcing my heart to compete. Beat for beat, faster and faster, until I have to remind myself how to breathe. He puts one of his hands on my shoulder, softly pressing his finger tips into the skin. He leans forward and presses those full lips to mine.

“Jared, you have to stop doing that.” I mumble. I have to force myself to pull back, turning to face the coffee pot on the counter. I'm staring at the name on the side. It's fascinating, really. No, I'm not trying to distract my eyes. My mind. Nope. Not at all. I am truly fascinated by the inner workings of the coffee pot. His hand doesn’t move from my shoulder. Persistent, if nothing else.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, brushing the back of his hand across my cheek. I twitch, pulling away. He deeply sighs.

“I will, if you can say you want me to.” He offers, dropping his hand to he knee.

“It's just confusing with us. I don't know what we are.” I confess, not wanting to discuss it in much detail. I get up, walking into the living room. I drop myself down on the couch.

I know what we said, after the meeting in the boardroom. I know what was felt. I also know what I told myself, what I promised myself. I said I wouldn't feel that way for him anymore. I said I would let him go, find someone else. Once upon a time, that's all he wanted: away from me. He just didn't know how. It was a poor judgment call on my part. I should have stopped him, pushed him away. I should have kept my mouth shut about my feelings. By admitting the feelings were still there, I let him think there was a chance. But there isn't. Even if the feelings are mutual. I didn't need to know that, either. It doesn't do either of us any good. I was trying to forget them, erase them from existence. But, that's one of the unfortunate consequences of not drinking. I can't forget as easily as I used to. I wake up to clear mornings. I can remember the night before. It's different, but I'm trying to get used to it. I have to be grateful there haven't been any withdrawals. Everyone would have assumed there were. Apparently, the trick was gurgling with mouth wash every morning. It tricks the body into believing it's consuming alcohol. That's what Blake said. I don't know if it's true or not as a general rule, maybe it was nothing more than the placebo effect. But, it worked for me, none the less.

There are two kinds of withdrawal though. I could spend my life trying to overcome these symptoms, and would never succeed. The longing. The desperation. I never knew what it was like to feel a desperation for someone until I met Jared. Everything was amplified. Intense in ways I didn't know love could feel. He would smile at me sometimes, while he was talking to Reggie. I'd want to jump over the bar and just wrap my arms around him. Every time I saw him, I wanted to pull him close and never let him go. I never wanted to let him go. I never felt this way for anyone, not even Hunter. Of course, I hadn't realized Hunter was nothing more than a mirage. I thought he was a docked ship, but he was just a ghost in the port. Jared was real. In fact, he was too real. Maybe Blake was right about that too. He seems to be right about everything else. But, it was in his best interest, wasn't it? He was so messed up, whether it was about Frankie or me. We were too messed up to be there for each other. Retirement felt like a better option for us, yet, I pushed the music forward. I look over as Jared's footsteps echo on his way into the living room. He approaches with caution, sitting beside me.

“It's more confusing because I don't know what you want us to be.” I mumble. He lets out a half-laugh, moving closer to me now. He puts one of his arms around my shoulder, pulling me over towards him. I let my head rest on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. I only briefly let myself think about how I used to wake up to that scent, that skin. It was welcoming. He lets one of his hands soothingly rub my back. It works, and I momentarily settle into the feeling.

“Blake is right.” He finally says, mostly talking to my hair. It seems he's breathing me in too.

“About what?” I ask, letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion. I slept just fine, all things considered. But I'm tired of life. I'm tired of running from everything. I'm tired of running from him. It's hard to deny what we have when it's so obvious to everyone. It's hard without the alcohol to help me forget. I could forget on my own, I could. Blake is making sure I don't.

“No one can replace you.” He answers, a softness to his voice that I find both comforting and alarming. I move back slowly, so he doesn't feel like I'm pulling away from him. I nod, like I understand. Because I do. There is no such thing as a replacement for something like this. No one can measure up when the bar is set this high. You won't know if you don't try.

“Someone could, if only you let them try.” I insist. He laughs.

“I'd never let anyone try.” He assures. I shake my head.

“Don't be stubborn Jared. We are never going to work in a relationship. We never did. We have to give up and move on.” I insist. He shakes his head.

“But I can't.” He argues. I sigh.

“Look, I know it's not perfect. It was rough from the start, it's never getting any smoother.” He adds. I nod, but there's a smile on his face that says he's not backing down.

“I know what we are. I want it anyway. And you can give up, you can walk away, deny and pretend you don't feel the same. But, as long as you do, I'll keep fighting. This is what I want. You are what I want.”

Chapter 38

The Release: Part 1

Blake waited until the last possible minute to tell everyone about Frankie. In fact, we were already in the limousine, heading to the party. He popped open the bottle of champagne in the backseat and gave a toast. He seems to do that a lot. He thinks everything is worth celebrating. He's a lot like Crystal in that sense, because she celebrates every day. This toast was announcing the invitation he sent to the ex-boyfriend only some of us knew he had. Crystal doesn't agree this invitation is worth celebrating. Her mood has instantly dampened. She's sitting across from me in the limousine, with Charlie beside her. She made her own outfit, special for tonight. It's similar to the one I saw her in at the photo shoot. In this suit, there's a v-neck that goes down to her belly button. She has a black tutu attached around the waist, which isn't part of her design. It was a last minute addition that ended up looking really great. She has her long black hair tied up in a bun, with pieces strategically falling over her face. She's got on the same black make-up she wears to everything, but there's a dash of silver sparkling in the corner of her eyes. She's wearing too much jewelry for one person, with a skeleton bracelet coming over her left hand. The fingers of the bracelet stretch her own, drawing attention to the diamond sitting on her ring finger. I knew Charlie was going to ask soon. But he had this plan that involved her being in Illinois. He took her to the place they had their first date to pop the question. We had a celebration for this last weekend. So, Charlie doesn't care about the invitation. He's still on top of the world. He's dressed in an outfit that can only be described as classic Charlie. He's wearing a torn up band t-shirt underneath a black zip-up sweater. He's wearing loose fitting black jeans and his typical running shoes. Crystal wanted him to dress up, but he's never been the type to change his personality for someone else. Tonight, that makes two of us. Blake is pushing my shoulder with his, motioning at the champagne. I shake my head, looking over at him. I'm in the middle, with Jared to my other side.

“I promised.” I remind him, casting my eyes in Jared's direction. He smiles, showing off his perfect teeth. He's dressed in a plain black suit, but he looks anything but plain wearing it. He always looks amazing, even when he's not trying. But there's something sophisticated about him in a suit. Blake is wearing the same thing, with his hair gelled back and out of his face. He's got a small ring hanging from his right nostril, matching the one Crystal now has. They got them done together last week, while me and Jared laughed because Blake's eyes started watering. Crystal has too many piercings to feel them anymore. It was Blake's first piercing. I was glad to be a part of that experience. I couldn't imagine missing it.

Our limousine pulls up outside the building a minute later. Blake is the first one out, dying to mingle with the invited crowd of people who think they are better than everyone. Of course the party is exclusive, but it was well-advertised. There are people all over the streets, snapping pictures and waving. Some of them are calling Blake's name. He smiles, darting into the building. Charlie is the next one to brave the crowd, waving as he follows behind Blake. We're the guests of honor tonight. This is our party. Everyone is here to see us, listen to our sound. We made this happen. Jared opens the door, but Crystal hesitates. She looks at me with fear in her eyes.

“What if Frankie actually shows up?” She asks, addressing the announcement. I shake my head.

“We have a good time.” I offer, putting on a fake smile. Jared softly tugs my hand and the smile magically becomes real. He gets out of the limousine, helping me to follow. It's my first public appearance since the press release. I haven't done a single interview, letting everyone else in the band take on the media. I was never a fan of that part, anyway. I let Crystal do my make-up, since I'm lousy at it. She used her own black eye shadow, blending it with shades of gray. Then she dabbed the black lipstick light enough that it looked faded. I thought it was a fitting metaphor for my personality. She just knew I'd ruin my lipstick before we even got there. She was right, if the limousine ride was any indication of the night ahead of us. I didn't get too fancy with my wardrobe, choosing a long black dress with a halter neck. Over top, I'm wearing a sheer long-sleeved blouse, open to draw attention to the ring hanging around my neck. I gave one to him, too. It's nothing more than a promise. It has no real significance to the world, but it means the world to us. His is barely visible over the tie he's wearing, but we both know it's there. That's all that matters.

We're greeted by Jesse on the other side of the door.

“There they are.” He yells, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. Everyone turns to face the door. A chorus of cheering breaks out across the floor. The building is an underground dance club, rented out for this particular occasion. It's twice the size of Reggie's club, but that's because there are more people. My eyes scan the room, mostly looking for one person. I notice that Christine is on the dance floor with a young-looking girl. Jesse puts his hand on my shoulder.

“That's Amy.” He announces, motioning towards the pair. I nod. So this is the girl that Jesse has fallen in love with. She seems nice enough. She could be jealous over Christine. Her and Jesse spend a lot of time together. But she seems easy-going. She's dressed very simple, a short black dress and red heels. Her hair is loosely in a bun and she's not wearing any make up. She looks like the type of girl who might be able to make Jesse happy. I smile in his direction.

“Congratulations.” Reggie yells, coming up on the other side. There's a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a smile on his face. He puts his arm around my shoulder and motions to the room.

“This.” He starts, looking over at me. I nod.

“I'm going to have this.” He adds, smiling. I laugh.

“I know.” I agree. He pauses, looking over at Jared. He's stepped away from me, but still looking in this direction. Reggie nods, looking back at me. He leans closer.

“I'm happy to see you're doing better.” He offers softly. I know there are two meanings to that. I nod.

“It's a special night.” I dismiss both meanings. He nods.

“It really is.” He yells loudly, now disappearing into the crowd. Jared walks back over, laughing as he motions towards him.

“He's already drunk.” He observes. I nod. The doors opened two hours ago. Gibson thought it would look better if we made a later appearance. In the meantime, all the important people have been dancing to club music and mingling.

“You'll never guess who is here.” He starts, smiling widely. I raise my eyebrow, trying to follow his direction. My jaw drops when I see who he's looking at. She's quick to run to the entrance, even graceful in the black high-heels that are strapped to her feet. She's got her long blonde hair hanging over her shoulders. She's obviously had it straighten to perfection. Her eyes are done in a gold eye shadow, accenting her hazel eyes. She's got a wide smile on her glossed lips and her arms open wide. I step forward, wrapping mine around her.

“Whitney. Oh my God.” I exclaim, suddenly filled with excitement. She smells like honey, which must be the scent of the new perfume she launched last month. She steps back, with her hands on my arms.

“Look at you.” She starts, looking me up and down. I'm doing the same, observing the change since I last saw her. It's been a year now. She's wearing a sleeveless black dress that stops just above her knees. It's classy, but dance worthy, which is how she would define her fashion.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. She laughs.

“Like I was going to miss your album release party?” She answers, like it should be obvious. I shrug.

“You live half way across the world.” I argue. She nods.

“I took a plane.” She reminds me, smiling. I laugh.

“You have a kid, a life. Where do you find the time?” I ask.

“You make the time for important things in life.” She reminds me. I smile, looking over at Jared. He nods, like he agrees. All we've ever done is find more time to try and make this work.

“So, what have you been up to?” I ask, looking back at her. She shrugs, motioning around the room.

“Nothing this exciting.” She dismisses. I shake my head.

“Oh, there's someone I want you to meet.” She announces, clapping her hands together. She motions behind her to a man in a black t-shirt and tight black jeans. He's got combat boots on and spiked wrist bands decorate his arms. His short black hair is spiked out. He nods as he walks towards us. She moves her hand to his arm and motions between the two of us.

“This is Huey.” She introduces. I nod. Jared does the same.

“I'm a big fan of the music. Yours, not this radio crap.” He announces, motioning to the stereo. They played our album once already, before switching to the popular dance music that is playing now. They didn't want to overplay our music, so it's been going in intermissions. That's what Gibson said, anyway.

“Thanks.” Jared agrees, looking over at me. He's got his tongue between his teeth, but he's smirking.

“Our guests of honor!” Gibson calls from somewhere beside us. I look around trying to find him. He waves from the bar, just past Whitney. She looks over at me and smiles, stepping back.

“Well, take your spotlight.” She insists, motioning forward. I nod, offering her a smile as I start walking towards Gibson. I reach for Jared's hand, but it's already found mine. The crowd parts for us as we walk towards the management team, eagerly awaiting our arrival.

We're ushered upstairs, into the reserved area of the club. At the far end, there's a semi-circle booth that seats approximately ten people, comfortably. A few people are in the lounge, trying to ask questions. We are the main attraction, after all. Everyone wants to know about the album. They have questions about the show and our plans for the tour. Jesse sends them away, telling them all questions will be answered before the tour. I was surprised the show went so smoothly. At the same time, I couldn't expect less. Blake has a way of smoothing down the edges of everything even a little rough. I look at Jared, smiling as I sit down beside him. Crystal claimed the throne, sitting down at the head of the table. Charlie sits beside her on one side, while Jared is on the other side. Tonight, this is her kingdom. It couldn't belong to anyone else. Although, everyone might assume I'd want the seat furthest back. I'm the most antisocial and the least likely to make conversation. I think that's why she's decided to take that seat and leave me accessible to the world. She's not giving me the luxury of withdrawing, not anymore. She sticks her tongue out at me like she can read my mind. I reciprocate because if she's going to be childish, so am I. Jared laughs.

“Mature, ladies.” He comments, rolling his eyes. I pay no attention to his words, because the smile on his face is all my mind can focus on. Blake sits down across the table from me.

“Private service.” He announces, motioning to the waiter coming over to us. I smile, shaking my head. Everyone orders their drinks, mine being a Pina Colada without the rum. I don't know what to order anymore. Nothing tastes good without alcohol. But I did make a promise. I plan to keep it for all the ones I've broken before.

“Tonight won't count.” Jared assures, squeezing my hand.

“I know, but, it's best to stay off that path. It's hard to come back from.” I confess. The waiter takes off, leaving us to take in the surroundings of our table. The whole club is done in dark colors, mostly purple and blue. It creates a relaxed atmosphere, while the music keeps the blood pumping. The booth we're sitting at is decorated in a dark purple velvet. It's soft to the touch, but clings to the fabric of my dress. Jared moves his other arm around my shoulders, letting his hand rest on the ball of my shoulder. He chats with Blake. Whitney and Matt join our table. We're not looking at each other, or even conversing anymore. But, my hand hasn't left his since we arrived. I'm making a statement to the world, and to myself: I don't plan on letting go any time soon.

Of course, there are people asking about our relationship. If we've worked things out, if we're planning on taking the next steps. The rings don't go unnoticed, because people are looking for anything to answer their questions. Neither of us know if we can pick up where we left off. But, we won't know unless we try. We're stubborn, him and I. I know that as long as the fire is burning, we'll keep stoking it. Even when the flames get out of control and we burn. Because we're gluttons for punishment or because we're that blinded by our love. It's dangerous, because we've always been dangerous. But, Crystal was right. It doesn't work at all when we're apart.

“We're taking it one day at a time.” Jared answers perfectly. That's exactly what we're doing. Today is the only thing that matters. Tomorrow is a lifetime away.

“Where have you been?” Someone asks from over my shoulder. I don't recognize them, but Jared leans forward and says they work at the studio. He's been doing that throughout the night, reminding me of people I might have forgotten while I was off the grid. She is one of Gibson's assistants. I only met his assistants a few times, but I know Gibson has been expanding his company. I nod.

“Rehab. I was dealing with a drinking problem.” I offer, as the only solution I can come up with. My disappearance doesn't make sense to anyone. I was there, then I wasn't.

“Congratulations.” She offers, sounding proud. Alcohol wasn't exactly my problem, but it wasn't the solution I wanted, either.

“Nothing tastes good anymore. I miss the taste of whiskey.” I laugh. She laughs along with me.

“I know what you mean.” She offers. But how could she? Either way, I smile and make polite conversation. This is exactly why Crystal chose the seat she did, after all. The assistant, whose name I don't know, takes off, leaving a silence behind. I sit quietly, watching the table come to life. Gibson joins us briefly, with his new girlfriend. But then she wants to dance before the album comes back on. So they leave. Jesse brings Amy over to properly introduce her. When I see her up close, I realize she is the girl from that party. She had already been working for Jesse, he just made his move that night at the party. Now that the truth is out about Frankie, there's no hostility towards Jesse. It's a nice change.

“How are we feeling?” He generically asks the table, looking around. His eyes land on me, knowingly.

“Good.” Jared answers. I nod, smiling in his direction.

Jesse nods, looking over at Jared. Then back at me.

“Sam sends his apologies. He was coming, but, the band.” He announces. I nod, lightly laughing.

“I know. He called me.” I assure, still nodding. Jesse smiles.

“Good. I'm happy that you two are working things out.” He pauses, looking over at Jared. I smile.

“Yeah, I'm working things out with everyone, aren't I?” I hint, looking directly at him. He nods.

“We never had a problem.” He assures me softly.

“Blake, we should dance.” Amy announces. Blake raises his eyebrow, then shrugs. He knows when to read the situation.

“Sure.” He agrees. Jesse slides out of the booth, letting them hit the dance floor. Blake briefly looks back with a huge smile on his face. It's contagious and I can't help but smile in return.

“But, seriously.” Jesse starts. I laugh.

“Okay, I get it. It's all good. Alright.” I insist. He nods.

“Jared?” He asks, looking over. Jared laughs.

“I'm sorry I was a dick. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you.” He apologizes. Jesse nods.

“I'm glad we've cleared the air. I'm pleased. This tour is going to be good.” He announces. I nod.

“It's great.” I correct, smiling. Jesse nods, standing up.

“Oh, the album is back on in twenty minutes.” He adds, heading into the mix of bodies on the floor.

“We should dance, before the music changes. I want to mosh when it does!” Crystal announces, tapping Charlie on the shoulder. He nods, sliding out of the booth. Crystal follows, pausing to look over at me. Then she looks at Jared.

“Keep her out of my seat.” She demands, heading off. I laugh, shaking my head as I watch her walk away. I briefly debate taking her throne just because I can. But I won't.

“Hey.” A voice greets from behind me. I feel the booth shift as the person drops down. I look over, finding a bottle in my face. I look past it at the person holding it. Gibson's assistant.

“I got you this.” She announces, cheerfully. I take the bottle. It's a type of whiskey I've never seen because it's non-alcoholic.

“I didn't know there was such a thing.” I announce, laughing. She nods, handing me a glass she's taken from the bar.

“Celebrate a little.” She insists, moving away from the table. I open the bottle, running the neck under my nose. I pour just a bit in the glass and take a sip. I don't know what this is, but it tastes amazing. I smile to myself, putting the bottle on the table.

“What is her name?” I ask Jared. He laughs, shaking his head.

“To be honest, I have no idea. I've only met her once. I think she's just a fan.” He assures me. I nod.

“She needs a thank you card or something.” I note, tipping the bottle in his direction. He nods, taking the bottle from me. He takes a sip, smiling as it hands it back.

“It's good.” He agrees. I nod, marveling at the liquid gold. The waiter comes over to our table, placing the drinks we had ordered down. I ask for ice. He disappears again.

“Hey.” Jesse greets from over my shoulder. I nod loosely. He looks past me at the glass in my hand.

“Are you drinking?” He asks sharply. Blake laughs, coming back to the table with Crystal and Charlie.

“Non-alcoholic. Susan brought it.” He corrects. I try to commit that name to memory. It should be easy since I'm not actually drinking and my memory is getting better.

“So, I just want you to know that Frankie is here.” Jesse announces, quickly leaving the table. I become suddenly aware of my surroundings, shooting up straight in my seat. I certainly didn't invent subtlety. Blake raises his eyebrow, then starts looking around for himself. Our eyes find him at the same time, down on the dance floor. He's looking towards the lounge, where we're sitting. Crystal notices, standing up on the seat to get a better look. She quickly sits back down, so I know he's already making his way to the steps. He's stopped by the bouncer for this area. I look around.

“What do we do?” I ask generically. The bouncer looks in our direction and Blake stands up, waving frantically.

“Invite him over.” He announces, laughing. The bouncer steps to the side, letting the unexpected guest join our group. He sits down beside Blake, without waiting for an invitation. Technically, he got one.

“I'm glad you came out tonight.” Blake greets, putting one of his hands on Frankie's back. He nods.

“I wouldn't miss it.” He insists, looking at Blake. Everyone seems confused, except him. He's sitting back with a smile on his face, like he knows something the rest of us haven't figured out yet. Frankie looks around the table, his eyes landing on me and Jared. I don't make an attempt to let go. He looks between the two of us and smiles, nodding like he understands.

“You're not happy to see me. I know. I owe you all an apology. But, tonight isn't about me. What I've said or what I've done. We'll deal with that another time. Tonight, it's about what you've done. I wanted to say congratulations.” He announces. His eyes linger on the two of us before he looks at Crystal.

“On everything.” He adds, motioning towards Charlie. Her defensive posture shifts, relaxing. She looks over at me and Jared, like we'll have an answer. Jared is just as confused. But I think I get it. He's offering a quiet acceptance. We never worked. It was just facts and he finally chose to face them. We could all hold on to the bitter past, or move forward to a brighter future.

Chapter 39

The Release: Part 2

An hour later, we're sitting through our album for the third time. I've finished the bottle I was given, but I've also been drinking it with Jared. Charlie and Crystal are curled together in the seat she's designated as her throne. They are loosely talking about wedding plans, or she's talking and he's nodding along. He has no ideas about a wedding, he just picked his bride. Jared occasionally smiles at me, like one day we'll be having this conversation. I'd tell him he was crazy, if I didn't know he was right. Blake is sitting across from us, with Frankie beside him. Some kid is hovering over Blake's shoulder, asking questions about different parts of the song. I recognize the kid from the press conference. He's become one of Blake's friends, it would appear. He seems enthralled by getting to talk to Frankie as well. Since his addition to the group, no one else has joined our table. I can't say I mind. We've got a good atmosphere here, all things considered. The addition of someone else might ruin it.

“It came together.” The kid offers, motioning around the table.

“It did.” I agree. Crystal smirks, looking over at me.

“Even when you were determined to destroy such a good thing.” She jokes. But she's not talking about the album. She's talking about Jared. I ignore the statement, looking around at everyone who is in attendance of this party. I know all these people are here to listen to the sound we've created together. Some of these people are genuine, friends and family. Some are associates, showing their support. But I also notice there are a few reporters lingering around. I sigh.

“They were invited. They have to write reviews for their columns.” Jared offers, following my view. I nod.

“I know. They have to give opinions on the album, creating a buzz before the tour starts. That's the way it works. I know some of them are genuine, but,” I pause, shaking my head.

“But, some of them are nothing more than pretentious assholes, who are going to rip the album apart.” Crystal mumbles, shaking her head, like she doesn't want to think about it.

“Everyone knew the kind of sound to expect. The billboards made sure of that.” Frankie notes.

“It was enough to shock the socks off white picket America, that's for sure.” I agree. Blake laughs.

“Judging by the pre-orders for the album, it was a good kind of shock.” He adds. I nod.

“The people who like this sound are going to love it. Everyone else will be asking what we were thinking.” Charlie jokes, motioning around. Blake nods, but more to himself.

“But that's the thing about art. It doesn't have to make sense to anyone other than the artist. It makes sense to us.” He assures. There's a hum around the table of everyone agreeing.

“At times, it was the only thing that made sense.” I add.

“Exactly. I know there are going to be mixed reviews. People are going to say it doesn't have the right sound, or the lyrics are too cryptic. They are going to judge, dissect and destroy. But, let them try. We've survived worse. I mean, we all came out on the other side of the disaster that was Frankie.” Blake challenges, holding his glass up. I smile, shaking my head.

“Like cockroaches, able to survive the end of the world.” Frankie jokes, looking at Blake. He nods.

“You're the end of the world? How very arrogant of you.” Blake observes, laughing loudly. Frankie shakes his head, raising his glass.

“Let them try to dissect and destroy. We Just Keep Going!” He toasts. Blake nods, looking around. Crystal raises her glass, along with Charlie. Jared lifts the empty bottle and I smile.

“We Just Keep Going.” I repeat, my eyes meeting Jared's.

Blake said that music isn't about creating something that sells. It's about creating something from your soul. It's about having faith in what you want, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. Other people might judge and dissect your choices. They may think your creation is a disaster. It doesn't matter, if you know what you're trying to accomplish. Even if your path is questionable. The end result is never quite the way you envisioned it. Somehow, the unexpected endings are the best, because they are the most real. It may be dysfunctional on the outside. Perfection is overrated.