Almost Easy

“We’ve made a decision,” Margaret told me over the phone as I grabbed all of my things.
I was scheduled to be at a press interview in twenty minutes—I meant to leave ten minutes prior. However, I wasn’t about to rush Tyler’s mother off the phone. The reporter would just have to wait.
Brian was tapping his foot impatiently. Austin had thought it would be a great idea to get a group interview going; complete with Brian. He was going to be part of our touring family, after all. Jimmy had begged to come along—he legitimately did not understand why I said no.
I half expected him to be there when I finally showed up.
“As you know, we were mulling over our options to mark Tyler’s passing,” she continued sadly. “We’ve finally decided that we are going to hold a celebration of life here.”
Here.
That’s all I heard. Here meant Massachusetts. Here meant a nearly five hour flight one way. Here meant trying to juggle an insanely hectic schedule while simultaneously taking a two-day break from my life. I was already scanning my mental calendar.
“I know that you’re busy,” she sighed. “Tyler was so excited about all of the things you’re doing…”
“When is it?” I asked abruptly, searching for my phone pen.
“Next Saturday,” she said weakly. “We will understand if you can’t—”
“Margaret,” I sort of laughed. “Stop. I’ll work it out.”
“It would mean the world to me if you could come…Do you think you could ask John and the others? I have so many people to call, it would really help me out.”
“Of course,” I replied, eying Brian who was giving me the ‘let’s fucking go’ kind of look. “I’m actually meeting them downtown for a band thing in a couple of minutes. I’ll ask them and report back, okay?”
“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t even think…”
“Margaret,” I actually laughed this time. “It’s no problem. I’ve gotta go now but I’ll call you back tonight.”
“Have a good time,” she said softly. “Bye, Blair.”
As I hung up the phone, I was already grabbing my bag with a Brian hot on my tail. A hot Brian hot on my tail, I should say.
“What was that?” Brian asked curiously.
The stairs were winding me, “Tyler’s mom.”
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
We rounded the building and piled into my car. Now I could breathe.
“Everything is fine,” I replied finally. “She’s planned a celebration of life…whatever the hell that is.”
“Like a wake, right?”
I shrugged, shaking my head, “I have no idea. I said I’d come though…so there’s that.”
“When is it?”
I smirked, “Next weekend.”
Brian snickered, “How the fuck are you going to convince Austin to let you fuck off to hickville for an entire weekend?”
“The whole band,” I corrected with a snarky grin. “She wants the whole band there.”
Brian looked at me with a whimsical expression. I tried to look back without swerving the car off the road. He was super distracting even without that weird look.
“What?” I chuckled.
He smiled, “Nothing.”
“I’m just going to have to work it out,” I sighed. “I have no idea how…but I can’t skip something like that.”
“No,” Brian agreed. “You can’t.”
“Family vacation,” I joked lamely. “That means I’ll have to see my aunt…it’ll be a whole, terrible thing.”
I groaned at the realization. It had been exactly two years since I’d been home last. I hadn’t gone for Christmas or for birthdays or for any holiday that might typically drive people to return back to their roots. I had little interest in visiting anyone there. All of the people that I’d loved had come with me to California—except Ty’s parents.
“Should I be volunteering to come?” Brian asked uncomfortably.
I looked at him as if to ask what?
“I don’t know the proper protocol here,” he laughed.
I shrugged, “I don’t think you’re supposed to bring a date to a funeral.”
“It’s not a date if you’re dating,” Brian corrected smugly.
“I’m going to have to think about that one,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what the appropriate thing here is.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked in such a nonchalant way that I thought maybe he was testing me.
Did I want him to come? Of fucking course I wanted him to come. Did I think I’d be able to make it through an entire weekend in my hometown on the best of days? No. Did I think I could struggle through a funeral without losing my shit? Maybe. Probably not.
Would Brian help carry the burden of my grief? Absolutely.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I’m just not sure if you should.”
“Fuck that,” Brian shrugged. “I don’t care about shit I should and should not be doing. If you want me there, I’m there.”
He was so cocky to the core. He wasn’t being cute when he said he didn’t care; he legitimately did not care. I, however, was a creature of protocol. I thought carefully about what I should be doing. I didn’t always do it—but I thought about it.
“So I should book two seats is what you’re saying,” I half-smiled.
“Book the whole plane for all I care,” he grinned.
“If the whole group is coming, I must just have to,” I whined.
The band was already waiting inside. Justin was tapping his fingers against his folded arms impatiently. He looked remarkably annoyed. The others just looked nervous.
“Where have you been?” Chris groaned at me as soon as I was in ear shot.
“Sorry,” I rushed. “We can talk about it after.”
“Talk about what?” John asked. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” I nodded. “We’re late; we can talk about it later.”
In perfect timing, a lady appeared to escort us into an elevator and down a maze of halls and doorways until finally we were in a room of chairs. It was bright and had a thousand windows peeking out at the world outside. Brian and I sat together in the middle of everyone else who stuck together like bees in a nest.
“Jay will be right with you,” she said to us politely. “Can I get anyone anything? Water? Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” we all said in unison and tried not to laugh.
“You guys practice that?” Brian quipped once the lady had disappeared back into the maze.
“You would think so,” Chris chuckled. “It happens so fucking often.”
“Language,” Justin warned playfully. “We’re supposed to be professional.”
“Or suffer the wrath of Mr. Texas,” John laughed.
The boys were in such a good mood that it relaxed my tensed shoulders. I was trying to push away the anxiety about convincing Austin to give us all a weekend off. We had press meetings scheduled and I, specifically, was supposed to make an appearance at a photoshoot Saturday morning. Maybe I could fly out immediately after that.
As for the press, though, I supposed Austin would just have to cancel. He wasn’t going to like it.
Pretty soon a figure appeared before us, taking a seat across from our chairs. He looked like a douchebag. I really hoped Justin didn’t point that out.
“How’s it going, guys?” he asked without looking up from his notepad.
We all grumbled bits about being fine or the generic, ‘oh, you know’. Eventually the man patted his hands onto his notepad’s pages and looked up at us expectantly.
“My name’s Jay Ongaro,” he told us. “It’s a pleasure to meet you guys. I’m really looking forward to your album.”
I’m not sure he was.
He hardly seemed to fit our demographic. He was clean-shaven and had his blonde hair slicked back with more product than even I would ever use. He was wearing argyle, for fuck’s sakes.
But, who knows. I scolded myself for stereotyping.
“Let’s get down to it, shall we?”
We all exchanged quick glances—no one was sure if we were actually supposed to offer a response.
Jay started talking again, so I assumed that we were not.
“First thing’s first,” he pushed a frown onto his face. “I was so sorry to hear about Tyler’s passing.”
I was surprised to hear him use Tyler’s name. Typically reporters just referred to him as “your guitarist”—at least until one of us used his name comfortably a couple of times. It was a general trend, though, that no one use Ty’s name.
“How are you guys holding up since his death?”
We all exchanged glances again.
John stepped up to the plate, “I mean…I don’t think I can speak for the group but it’s been pretty terrible, to be honest. We’re getting through it though.”
“You can speak for the group,” Justin quipped from the end of our row.
We all kind of laughed. Jay looked uncomfortable by our strange sense of humor in that moment.
“I’m glad to hear you’re all muddling through,” Jay lied. “How did the decision to have Synyster Gates step in to fill Tyler’s shoes come about?”
“First of all,” I snapped without really thinking, “There is no filling Tyler’s shoes. Tyler was a main limb of this group. We’ll be walking with a limp forever.”
I was so poetic. Justin made a snort laugh sound from my left. I shot him a warning look. He relented.
“She’s right,” John agreed with a nod. “It isn’t really filling a void…it is filling a position though. We feel truly blessed to have a friendship with Avenged Sevenfold and with Synyster Gates.”
We all knew that none of us really had a friendship with the band. I was close with Jimmy and with Brian, but the others hardly knew either of them, and certainly didn’t know the others. But, we’d all agreed as a collective of musicians, that it would be better for press coverage and better for our respective images, to play along with the notion that we were all buds—friends stepping in to help each other out.
“Are you looking forward to the tour?” Jay asked Brian specifically. “Do you think it will be a big transition from what you’re used to?”
Brian shifted in his chair uncomfortably. I’d heard he didn’t particularly like interviews. I could see then that it might be true.
“Um, yeah,” he hesitated. “I mean…I’ve been playing music with Avenged forever. It’s definitely going to be a change in pace for me as a musician; our music is very different from Haven’s. But, that said, I’m really looking forward to spending some time with the group and dabbling in a totally different musical environment.”
For someone who hated interviews, he sure was eloquent. That was probably his intelligence seeping through, despite his social anxieties.
“I hear that you all have had a chance to record together,” Jay said. “Is that true?”
“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “Synyster Gates came in and was featured on a song for our album.”
“How does it sound?” Jay asked excitedly.
Maybe he was a fan.
“It’s fucking awesome,” John jeered.
“Language,” Justin teased.
“I’m fucking sorry,” John laughed, flipping the bird to Justin.
“Synyster Gates, you said that you’d been playing with Avenged Sevenfold for a long time. How do you think integrating into a band that is clearly very close going to work?”
“I don’t understand the question,” Brian smirked.
“Do you think you’ll fit into this group?” Jay tried again, softer this time.
Brian nodded, “Yeah, for sure. They’re all really great in their own specific ways; it’s been pretty easy to get into a groove with them.”
He’d really only spent time with John (other than me). I admired his ability to lie so well.
But it also made me kind of nervous. I pushed the personal insecurity away.
“Speaking of fitting in with them,” Jay grinned. “There’s a rumor floating around.”
“We don’t listen to rumors,” John laughed.
“It’s true,” Justin agreed. “Last week I heard that I had a long-lost son that I’d made contact with. Unless that kid is a bag of Doritos, I’m not sure it happened.”
“It’s definitely not a rumor about Doritos,” Jay laughed uncomfortably. “Word on the street is that there’s a romance blooming in this group.”
“Romance?” John smirked.
“Chris, did you hear that? They’re on to us,” Justin joked.
“It was only a matter of time before you guys went public,” I laughed.
“I’m happy for you both,” Brian added on with a grin.
He really did fit in nicely. I loved having him with me.
“Not between them,” Jay grimaced but laughed. “Between these two.”
He pointed two fingers; one at Brian and one at me. He was trying to size us up—trying to get a feel for the reality of the situation.
“No romance here,” I raised my hands up to plead my innocence.
Beyond the Avenged friendship agreement, we’d also made the executive decision to keep mine and Brian’s relationship private. Not just for the benefit of our personal privacy, but also to avoid conflicts within the group/the tour in case of things turning sour. Plus, Synyster Gates had a reputation to uphold and it was easier to do that without a significant other.
I was informed that I was also supposed to be playing my part of a seductive and sexy lead singer. That was not something I was accustomed to. But, like Synyster Gates and Brian, I’d have to learn to do both—and to somehow separate them.
“Blair is far too good for me,” Brian smirked. “She’s not from this world. There’s no way that someone like her could ever date someone like me.”
I listened intently to what he was saying without showing that I was listening intently. But whatever he was saying, fictitious or not, was coming from somewhere deep inside of him.
“Oh, please,” I giggled.
“There’s that Synyster Gates charm,” Jay beamed. “How do you resist it, Blair?”
Maybe Jay should start up a romance with Brian. He seemed to be scolding me for not banging Brian at every opportunity—even though I did.
“Sometimes, it’s difficult to resist him,” I started slowly. “But then he opens his mouth and says something; then it’s not such an issue.”
Brian let out a hearty laugh, grabbing at his belly. He looked at me, still laughing.
“That’s pretty fucking good,” he said to me.
I blew him a kiss dramatically with a wink before turning back to the reporter. We’d all done such a good job of portraying a close-knit bond that mine and Brian’s repertoire hardly seemed to alert his suspicions.
I was relieved to move past the topic of Brian and I. It was a curious thing, that rumor. Mostly I’d heard that media was always wrong—but this time they weren’t. I was hopeful that this revelation wouldn’t brew an insatiable insecurity about future tabloids and the honesty they were perpetuating.
Maybe there’s a tiny amount of truth behind every rumor.
But there’d once been a rumor floating around my high school about how I was actually a dude. So, maybe my theory was a little off base.
Jay asked us question after question about our tour, our set list, our cities and the dates. He thanked us genuinely once he’d asked all of his questions and we took a couple of pictures with him. He must have actually been a fan.
We all agreed to meet up for a round of afternoon drinks and piled into our respective vehicles feeling warm and fuzzy about a job well done. Brian commended my restraint when Tyler’s name had been brought up. I lied and said it was no big deal.
I was trying not to let anyone know that I still felt a wrecking ball in my gut every time someone mentioned Ty’s name. I’d locked myself away in the bathroom to fall apart on more than one occasion that day alone.
I was determined to portray a persona of acceptance and of someone who could handle shit well. In reality, I was dead inside. The world had died with Tyler and I was struggling to move along in the land of the living without him.
And now I’d have to bring up the prospect of a ‘celebration of life’ to the group. I would have to be polished and unflinching when as I spoke. It was important to me that I keep it together for the group—they seemed to be handling it well. I needed to be too.
Imagining Brian was Tyler, I commended myself for another interview done. What a good team we made.

Notes

A loooooong one. But hopefully a good one?

We needed a long one to make up for my day-long absence ;)

xx