Almost Easy

Brian didn’t come back to the bus. Everyone was starting to buzz about where he’d gotten off to; everyone was asking me. I wasn’t sure what to say so I plead the fifth.
When it was time to roll, we all walked to the venue together—nervous that Brian had skipped out on us. Jimmy was relentless in his assurance that Brian would never do that. He was, if nothing else, professional.
We were in the dressing room, everyone scattered in preparation for the show.
Brian walked in, looking glum and irritated. I was relieved to see him…but I think it was out of habit. I turned my back to him—as if I could change what was happening if I couldn’t see him. Maybe then I could still pretend we were strong…then I could get through the show.
But he snaked his hand around my arm, startling me.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked quietly.
I raised my eyebrows at him, whipping around to face him, “About what? Have some more bullshit you want to throw at me? I have to say, I’m just not in the mood.”
He tapped his foot impatiently, “Can we please just go talk? I just need a minute.”
I wasn’t in the mood to be broken up with. I still had a show to do.
But he was pleading with his eyes, looking nervous and expectant. I caved.
“Listen,” he said to me once we were securely outside the dressing room door. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I have a couple ideas,” I growled.
He nodded, “I deserved that.”
“What do you want, Brian? We have to be on stage in, like, two minutes.”
He seemed totally taken aback by my disdain. This only further perpetuated my confusion with him—did he suffer from short-term memory loss? Had he forgotten all of the awful things he’d said to me only a few hours before?
“I,” he paused, shaking his head in frustration. “I’m fucked.”
“Yes,” I nodded once. “Is that it?”
“Blair…”
I rolled my eyes, turning my back to him and putting my hand on the doorknob.
“Blair,” he said again, more sternly this time.
“No,” I growled without looking at him. “I have nothing to say to you right now.”
I slammed the door behind me. I hoped he’d been following so that it would have slammed in his smug face. A really big piece of me desperately wanted to hear what he had to say. But the little, protective piece of me was screaming no. I didn’t have it in me to have Brian force himself out of my life and then get on stage and pretend to be someone else. It was too fucking much. I was already too tired.
We were called to the stage, the group gathering Brian up as we walked down the hall. They were all asking where he’d been; he wasn’t answering. To my relief, he stayed ahead with Jimmy and Justin—leaving me behind.
We were all silent as we waiting along the sidelines, watching as the light show began. Tonight, I wasn’t nervous. Tonight I was somewhere else.
As per usual, I was the last to enter the stage. Brian gave me a strange, saddened look as he passed me. He waved to the crowd and I found myself swooning. I consciously made myself stop.
We made it through the first song just fine. Brian was Synyster Gates again, which probably should have relieved me. Instead, it just fueled my rage. I was so disgustingly heartbroken that I was having trouble standing.
And then I forgot all the words to the second verse.
I fumbled, trying to regain my composure but I was fucking lost. John shot me a ‘what the fuck’ kind of look, but I was done.
I threw my hand into the air to signal my band to stop. A silence fell upon the stage and the crowd began to buzz.
“I’m having a fucking night!” I shouted into the microphone.
They cheered. Good.
“Do I have any women in the crowd?”
A loud eruption swept through the room. Hands shot into the air. Voices echoed off the walls and through my ears. I grinned.
“Men fucking suck!” I declared to them. “Can I get an amen?”
As the women in the crowd roared, I gave a smug look to Brian. He was looking defeated. He’d fucked me up and now I was repaying the favor. I don’t take shit from men and I certainly wasn’t about to start.
“Now that I’ve got that off my chest,” I laughed into the mic, pacing myself back to Chris. “Let’s try this shit again.”
We made it through the next few songs without my memory failing me. The band was tight. Brian looked so deeply unsettled.
Normally, I’d give him a little special shout out during the show. After all, he wasn’t a regular part of our lineup. He was a guest and he was doing us a solid. Plus, I figured a few seats were probably reserved at each show for Avenged fans who just came out to see Synyster Gates. I had to give them validation.
Tonight, though. My mantra was fuck Brian. I skipped over the slot I had always carved out and moved right into another song.
“What is happening?” John yelled to me as I neared him and Brian tore into another solo.
I grinned at him, leaning into his ear, “It’s all good!”
We were just about to start our final song, the crowd was magnetic. I had just finished spitting some bullshit hype-up mumbo jumbo when Brian came waltzing over to me; his guitar was pushed onto his back and it tailed him as he walked.
He grabbed me by the arm to turn me around; I wasn’t expecting him to be in my space. I thought we’d reached a silent agreement where he’d stay the fuck away from me. But because people were watching, I couldn’t hit him. I really, really wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” he said into my ear.
I shook my head, turning so he could speak into my ear that wasn’t plugged with an ear piece.
“I’m sorry!” he said again.
I leaned back to look at his. His eyes were honest. But I wasn’t so easily forgiving.
Chris started strumming the intro to the next song; Brian was going to miss his queue soon. I stared at him expectantly. He didn’t move. He kept his eyes focused on me. His hands were shaking and he was licking at his lips absently.
“Are you going to fucking play?” I demanded.
Brian broke from his frozen state long enough to grab my face with both hands and smash his lips to mine. I let him. Oh, god did I let him.
The crowd went nuts.
He pulled away and slipped his head down to my good ear and said all I ever needed to hear.
“I love you.”

Notes

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