“But I don’t have to fucking like it,” Holly pouts.
Damon and I share a smile before he speaks up. “We’ll fly to you in a few weeks.”
“Really?” Holly’s spirits lift instantly. “Like a real trip, together, promise?”
“Swear,” he assures her as she turns to me and smiles.
“Finally. I’m just pissed it took a disaster to get us together.”
Not a disaster, but a decision not to make a decision and walk away from the battle of past and present. A battle I couldn’t keep from happening no matter how hard I tried, which left us all casualties.
Now it’s just a matter of living with it.
As much as I longed to know what it was like to be in Stella’s shoes—as much as I romanticized about having this type of love—I feel cursed now for having known it only to lose it.
My story is going to end far differently than hers.
There’s no white knight in my future that will ever compare, or smooth-talking aristocrat with good table manners derived from any universe that will ever hold a candle to him. No gentleman nor scholar with the right words will ever pierce my soul or penetrate my mind and heart as profoundly as Easton has.
All of this was set into motion by me, so it’s only fair I am the one who puts a stop to it. As a result, my punishment for the foreseeable future is that I have to live with the knowledge that once upon a time—for a glimpse of it anyway—I found the perfect love with Easton Crowne.
“Every song has a memory; every song has the ability to make or break your heart, shut down the heart, and open the eyes. But I’m afraid if you look at a thing long enough; it loses all of its meaning. And your own life while it’s happening to you never has any atmosphere until it’s a memory.”
Andy Warhol
Dead Man Walking
Jelly Roll
Easton
Five months later…
Faded black boots propped and crossed on one of the dressing room tables, Dad expertly twirls his sticks before tapping them on his thighs. His restless energy is palpable from across the room as he stares blankly through the blurred motions of his expert hands. I have no doubt he’s running through music none of us can hear, as I often do while tapping out the beats in perfect synchronization. While he’s too much of a professional to be nervous, there’s an energy surrounding him. Pacing, cellphone in hand, Mom’s eyes lift and remain fixed on him where he rattles. Sensing her stare, he pauses and looks over at her, his mouth twisting up in a half-grin. “Something on your mind, Grenade?”
“I’m so proud of you,” she declares, her voice shaking with sentiment as the decades they’ve spent between them shine in their eyes. Dad lifts his chin in summons, and Mom immediately walks over to him. Dropping his legs as she reaches him, he pulls her into his lap. After a few exchanged whispers, he brackets her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.
Averting my gaze to give them the privacy they clearly don’t give a shit about, I catch Rye talking to his daughter where she’s propped against the wall. Rian is Rye’s only child, resulting from his first marriage to her mother, Angel. Their divorce ended up being the first of Rye’s three failed marriages. Rian smiles at her father, tossing her hands into the conversation for emphasis as he grins down at her with affection and pride, no doubt not retaining a single word.
My thoughts drift to Natalie and the times I just stared at her as she chatted me up post-orgasm. Far too exhausted for conversation, I kissed her quiet until she fell asleep.
Fuck, I miss that.
I haven’t spoken a word to my wife since the night of the gala, since the night I got the email. Firm on keeping a promise to myself not to be the first to reach out because of how it went down, I have no intention of remedying that anytime soon. When our silent standoff lasted past New Year’s, it only confirmed what I already felt—my wife left me to swing alone in the dark before leaving me altogether. There’s only one universe for us to exist in now, but even in this one, she remains my wife. I rest in that fact, though it’s little-to-no consolation anymore.
My focus shifts back to Rian as I note what a knock-out she’s grown into. Benji is going to lose his shit when he lays eyes on her. Even so, he’ll do no more than burn the looks of her into memory. At one point, I know she returned his affections, but he walked away from the opportunity, closing the door purposefully. The two have barely spoken since. He didn’t even give himself the time to love her.
Maybe he is the smart one, even if he’s the world’s biggest fucking hypocrite when it comes to matters of the heart. Fact is, when it comes to Rian, there’s no denying her significance with him.
Adam sits comfortably a couch over, plucking at his unplugged bass as he chats with his wife, Lucia—the most gentle and generous woman on the planet. Adam was the last of the Sergeants to marry, save Ben, and lucked out in his choice for all of us. Lucia has a gift in the way she’s aware of everything going on with the band, both personally and professionally, at all times and guards us all ferociously and protectively.
Ben sits solo in a chair adjacent to Dad, a table over. Dressed to impress by Lexi in vintage corduroy, suspenders fastened and hanging loosely at his sides, he methodically rolls up the sleeves of his linen button-down, probably by her strict instructions. Fidgeting with the collar, he anxiously flits his gaze back to the door.
True to her ambitious nature and stellar reputation, Aunt Lexi took a last-minute job styling high-profile client and family friend, Mila, who is Hollywood legend Lucas Walker’s wife. The last-minute job was commissioned because of an unexpected pre-premiere event. Just after, Lexi and Benji met up in LA to board their flight, but it was delayed. It’s apparent that they’re cutting it much too close for Ben’s comfort with the way he’s fidgeting. Over the years, and on certain occasions, I know Lexi’s presence has played a major part in Ben’s performances. Her absence, especially when painfully missed, led to some of his most guttural shows. For Ben, it seems as if he uses their tumultuous relationship as a fuel source. Right now, in that respect, I can relate.
Though a rock and roll family, we’ve been through it all and continue to spend our lives together despite the Dead Sergeants’ long-standing hiatus in recording and touring. Holidays, birthdays, Grammy wins and other award shows, vacations, and sadly, one too many funerals, we’ve been there and through it together. Blood or not, we are family in every sense of the word, which would make Benji and Rian’s coupling a little taboo and predictably disastrous. Just as forbidden as, say…falling madly in love with your mother’s ex-fiancé’s daughter and eloping with her.
Even as pride fills me for the fact that we’re celebrating another milestone tonight, I can’t help but wonder what my family will look like five or even ten years from now, and more so, what it would have looked like if Natalie had accepted her place at the table.
She never even got to meet them.
Ben’s attention whips back to the dressing room door as it bursts open, and a perplexed Aunt Lexi stalks through, Benji on her heels as he steps in behind her before he subtly begins searching the room.
“Thank fuck, get over here,” Ben rushes out, relief taking over his anxiety-filled expression as he pulls Benji into his arms. When Ben’s eyes meet Lexi’s over Benji’s shoulder, I feel it the second they connect.
The grudge on Ben’s part is noticeably absent today, as it has been for some time. He used to be the first to look away, purposefully rejecting her and breaking their connection.
Ben’s long-standing go-to punishment.