Almost Easy

Lauren and I spent almost every day of the next week together. She was surprisingly hilarious and remarkably easy to talk to. I was certain that we were both using each other a little to fill the void our men had left, but I didn’t really mind—and it didn’t seem like she minded much either.
The day had come, though, where I was pushed back into my musical life. We were scheduled to be auditioning guitarists all day. It wasn’t even noon yet and I was already ready for bed. I adorned a pair of Brian’s sunglasses low on my face, hiding my hangover from the sun. I was wearing my finest Avenged t-shirt.
We’d booked the studio for the day, not because we were going to be recording anything but because it seemed like the most professional space in which to conduct an audition. I sure as shit wasn’t having randoms in my house.
Justin passed me a coffee instinctively as I walked in the door. I thanked him with a great sigh of relief. I’d been running late and hadn’t had time to stop. Brian had made a surprise call home and I was in no mood to rush him off the phone.
“Let’s make sure we’re on the same page,” John spoke to the group.
Justin and I sat together—we’d somehow formed an even closer bond during the tour than I’d have ever anticipated possible. I was happy to have a buddy and he and Brian got along swimmingly—it was a win-win situation all over the map.
We’d been writing a lot since Brian’s departure—after all, I had pretty well nothing but time to kill.
On this particular day, Justin seemed to be in a mood. Not his regular, angry and aggressive mood—but…sad, maybe? Something was off.
I sipped at my coffee as John continued to explain to us all what we were looking for. He was sort of speaking for the group but I pretended not to have a problem with it.
“I know that none of these people will be Tyler,” John said humbly. “But we have to look at a close runner-up.”
We all mumbled something resembling agreement and moved on with our day. Within a few hours, we were about six guitarists deep and we still hadn’t found anyone we were even considering hiring. They were all talented, don’t get me wrong; but none of them were…right. None of them were Synyster Gates. None of them were even close to Tyler.
“Can we break?” Chris groaned. “I need a sandwich.”
“Yeah,” John agreed reluctantly. “We have a lull.”
They ditched out together. I wasn’t hungry. I was a fiend for a cigarette, though.
“I’m going for a smoke,” I told Justin as I grabbed my pack. “Coming?”
He didn’t smoke but he often came for the ‘fresh’ air.
We walked out together, he was silent the entire time. After I’d taken a few puffs of my cigarette and he still hadn’t spoken, I knew something was up.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it.
He nodded, “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” I pried. “You seem weird today.”
He shrugged, looking just past me, “Ashley left last night.”
“What?” I demanded.
I had honestly always thought that she would be the girl that Justin ended up marrying. She’d been so understanding about everything our kind of life entailed. She was patient with him when he was recording until all hours of night, she was kind about his leaving for tour…I was blown away to hear she’d up and left.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“Why? What the fuck?” I was in shock. “What happened?”
He shrugged his heavy shoulders, “I don’t know, really…She said that she loved me but that she wanted a life that she was included in…whatever that means.”
I knew exactly what that meant. It meant that she was rational and knew that their life would forever be Justin travelling, disrupting their life together. Their life would always be Justin actively participating in interviews and photoshoots, meeting fans and taking photos with them, writing and recording with the group. He would always be busy and she would never, ever be consulted about it.
I could sort of relate. But in my case, I guess I was lucky, my life and Brian’s life were similar in that way…so we had a mutual understanding. I hoped we never tired of the others’ lifestyle.
“Oh, Justin…I’m sorry,” I frowned.
“It’s fine,” he dismissed abruptly. “I should have seen it coming. It’s my own fault I guess.”
“I don’t see how,” I said seriously. “If she decided your relationship wasn’t working, I can’t see how it’s your fault. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”
“I guess,” he hummed. “Whatever. I’m over it.”
“If you ever need to talk about it,” I said, trying to sound extra sympathetic. “I’ve got your back.”
He half-smiled, “I know.”
“Okay,” I smirked, giving him a nod.
“So these guitarists are shit, huh?” he scoffed. “Can’t compare to your hubby.”
“Which one?” I joked.
“Both of them.”
We pretty well agreed that we’d never find anyone as good as Ty or as good of a replacement as Brian—but we agreed to put our doubts aside in favor of the greater good.
The next few auditions were equally as unpromising as the others that had come before. That is until a man named Ryan Parker showed up. He was insanely talented and I swear his hair blew in the wind as he walked—fictitious wind though, since we were indoors and there was no wind to be had. He was charming and everyone seemed pretty smitten with him.
He chatted with us for a while about his experience and his credentials. He talked up Tyler, which I obviously liked. He also made mention of Brian—err, Synyster Gates—and how well he’d performed on our tour. Apparently he’d been in attendance at a couple of shows.
Before the day was out, we’d decided to hire him. John had volunteered to do the honors and make that phone call.
With a guitarist booked, our next move was to find a new manager. It had been deeply satisfying to kick Austin to the curb. The boys had let me do it. It was incredible.
But now we were without proper management and we needed someone we could trust. However, since we weren’t doing a whole heck of a lot just then, we decided to take our time and spend most of our efforts on writing the next album.
When Brian called later that night, I told him all about our new hire and he seemed to be just as excited as I was. I also mentioned the Ashley problem and Brian immediately had a solution.
“Mona,” he said with a little laugh.
“What about her?” I asked, confused.
He groaned at me, “She’s obviously the solution to that problem. Nothing better than a rebound bang.”
While I wasn’t particularly crazy about Brian suggesting Justin “rebound bang” our tech…it wasn’t exactly the craziest idea. The more I thought about the two of them as independents, the more the idea of them as a couple started to make sense.
“No, you can’t talk to—Jimmy, no—Dude!”
I paused, waiting for Brian to make sense.
“Blair,” Jimmy’s voice confused me for a quick second. “I hear you’ve been keeping my Lauren company.”
“Correct,” I replied awkwardly.
“Don’t you get her into any of your bad habits,” he slurred at me; it was obvious he was shit-faced.
“My bad habits?” I laughed sarcastically. “Says the king of the drug addictions.”
“That’s low, Blair,” he grumbled. “That’s really low.”
“Fuck off, Jim.”
“Love you too,” he mumbled.
There was some serious fumbling going on and then finally Brian returned.
“He’s way too drunk,” Brian said, I could hear the irritation. “I need to go make sure he doesn’t fucking die.”
“Okay,” I smiled to myself. “I love you both.”
“I love you too,” Brian rushed before hanging up.
I was a little worried about Jimmy, given that it was only seven o’clock and he was past the point of inebriated. He’d moved onto another dimension. They had an evening off and I guessed Jimmy didn’t feel like letting it go to waste. Or his demons had rallied together…it was hard to say for sure. It was nice to hear his voice though, even if it was slurred and difficult to understand. It was even nicer to hear Brian’s.
But our phone calls always made me miss him that much more.
Four more weeks to go.

Notes

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