Almost Easy

“I don’t want to go,” Justin groaned as I drove us to our next band meeting.
We’d all agreed to sit down and start hashing out ideas for a new album. I decided that I’d let my first impression of Ryan die and I’d try hard to make our relationship amicable. Justin was not so big.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassured him passively.
He sunk into his chair, “I’ve been thinking a lot about this band lately.”
I looked at him quickly to let him know that I was listening—and worried.
“You know, we have this platform…that we can use to really send a message to people,” he mused to me. “We went through something really fucking traumatic. Why aren’t we using what we went through and saying something, you know? Why the fuck are we not making music about overcoming it? Why are we not trying to reach people who are going through the same shit?”
I bit at my lip.
“Am I crazy?” he asked me pointedly. “Should we not try and fucking say something with our music? That was all I was trying to do with our songs.”
“I know,” I said limply.
He glared at me, “You’re on their side?”
“I’m not on any side,” I retorted. “There are no sides.”
“Sure they aren’t,” he said sarcastically.
I sighed, “If I’m on anybody’s side, you know it’s yours. I thought your songs were great…I really don’t know what else to say about it. Yes, I agree, we should be using our music to send an actual message. But…”
“But what?” Justin pushed when I didn’t elaborate.
“But I don’t know if it’s worth blowing our band up over,” I said finally.
He shook his head, turning his attention back to the window.
“You know,” he said, still not looking at me, “when this shit goes buckwild and we go the way of all great bands, you’re going to be the only one that still has work.”
I didn’t know what he meant.
“I told you,” he half-laughed at my confusion, “you were the golden ticket. You still are. So, when the time comes that Mr. Wonka calls you up, can you just take me with you?”
“To the chocolate factory?” I asked seriously.
He looked back to me, “Yes. You can be Charlie and I’ll be…your grandpa.”
We laughed.
“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” I smiled. “But Haven’s not going to disband.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, “We’ll see.”


We were about an hour into talks about possible new album ideas and still hadn’t gotten anywhere. John had pitched a concept album, we’d vetoed it. Ryan had pitched a crazy heavy album; I, specifically, vetoed it.
“I don’t see why we can’t use Justin’s songs as a starting point,” I said finally because if I didn’t, it was going to eat me alive.
The guys exchanged looks—I really didn’t understand the problem.
“I thought we’d talked about this,” John finally said.
I shrugged, “We didn’t really talk about it.”
“I don’t know how to word this in a way that isn’t going to start another fight,” John said simply.
Justin excused himself to get a beer from Chris’ fridge. I didn’t really blame him—and I almost felt bad for bringing it up again.
“Right,” I said through grit teeth. “But Justin and I have talked a lot about it and I think we’re on the same page as far as this album goes. Maybe it’s the three of you that need to get up to speed.”
“What page are you on?” Chris asked smugly.
Ryan rolled his eyes, “Please, enlighten us.”
“Firstly,” I hissed, “you are brand fucking new here. I don’t know that you get to make snide comments yet.”
Chris snorted a laugh.
“Second,” I continued, feeling braver, “we think it would be a good move to consider writing about Tyler. Not necessarily Tyler…but what his death was like. What the recovery has been like…”
John shook his head, “Absolutely not.”
“It isn’t a bad idea,” Chris said weakly.
“We’re not an emo band,” John insisted.
Before I could even begin to argue with him, new guy’s phone started buzzing across the coffee table. In big letters, the display immediately broke our band apart.
“Why the fuck,” John grunted angrily, “is my fucking girlfriend calling you?”
Ryan just shrugged.
“Run,” Chris said seriously to me.
We bailed out of there hard just as the yelling started. I don’t want to say I told you so….but….
We grabbed Justin and made for the exit.
“What the fuck is going on?” Justin demanded once we were safely outdoors.
“Uh…you know what?” I laughed awkwardly, pulling a smoke from my pack. “I don’t even know.”
Chris was rubbing his temples and shaking his head. He looked like he might implode.
“This is too much drama,” he groaned loudly.
I decided to ask, “What’s with the phone call?”
“Well,” Chris stated, “I don’t even—Fuck!”
Justin and I looked at each other and then stared at our irritated bandmate.
He was shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“This is fucked,” he said to us with crazy eyes.
“What is happening?” Justin asked wildly.
Are you ready for this? So, apparently, Chris’ girlfriend had gone ahead and hooked up with our lovely new guitarist behind Chris’ back. She’d recently come clean after running into him and John’s girlfriend in a bar over the weekend.
“I obviously dumped her,” Chris snarled.
Justin looked floored, “What is this, fucking break up season?”
I was a little nervous that maybe it was. But I assured myself that Brian wouldn’t cheat on me—and I’d never dream of cheating on him. Who was more perfect than Brian? No one.
“I’m going out on a limb here,” Chris continued, “and I’m going to assume that John is about to get a similar confession from his girl.”
“He’s not even that attractive,” I said seriously.
He was. He was the attractive. But he was an asshole to the highest degree.
“So he’s out then, right?” I asked like it should be obvious. “Please tell me he’s out.”
Chris nodded, “Assuming John doesn’t kill him.”
“Is this fucking normal?” Justin asked, clearly frustrated and at his wit’s end. “We come back from tour and everything goes to shit?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s going to shit…” Chris tried.
I was biting at my lip real hard—my smokes were inside. I knew I was going to have to get them at some point; my car keys were with them.
“You two work this out,” I said coolly. “I need to get my keys.”
“If you’re not out in two minutes, I’m coming after you,” Justin said cutely to me.
The house was weirdly quiet. When I rounded the corner to the living room where we’d all been just moments before, Ryan was nowhere to be seen and John was seated on the couch, his head in his hands.
I tried to be quiet and just grab my things and go—but he busted me.
“Great, it’s you,” he groaned.
I grimaced at him, “What did I do?”
“You women are all the same,” he grunted. “You say you love someone but you’re actually fucking around with someone else. You’re all the fucking same.”
“Yeah, I’m not Mel,” I snapped. “Kindly leave me out of your shitty relationship.”
I picked up my smokes and my keys and went to retreat when he said the one thing that I honestly believed he’d never say.
“You’re fucking around on Brian,” he hissed at me. “We all fucking know it. Should I tell him or would you like to?”
“I beg your pardon,” I growled as I slowly spun around to face him again.
He shook his head at me, looking like he was going to start foaming at the mouth at any second, “Oh, knock it off, Blair. First it was you and Tyler and now it’s you and Justin. Why even take a boyfriend if you’re just going to fuck everyone in the band, huh?”
My eyes widened as he sputtered this bullshit at me.
“Then you get caught fucking David and cry rape,” he continued mercilessly. “You’re a fucking slut like the rest of them.”
My stomach nearly caught in my throat as someone I thought cared about me through my sexual assault in my face. Like I’d fucking asked for it. Like I’d fucking participated in it.
“And now your boyfriend leaves for a few fucking weeks and you’re on the dick of your drummer,” he spat at me. “Avenged’s drummer wasn’t enough for you?”
I was in shock.
“Is that seriously what you think of me?” I asked because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He shook his head displeased at me. It was obviously what he thought of me.
“Fuck you, John,” I muttered before trying to take my leave.
“Oh, it’s my turn now?” John called after me.
How far had we fallen that one fucking guy had literally ripped us apart? Did other bands have to deal with this? I started running through all of the bands that had burned out before making it to true stardom. There was a pretty long fucking list.
“I fucking quit,” I grunted as I tore passed Chris and Justin.
Chris, panicked, called after me, “What?”
“You can thank John!” I shouted back without looking. “Good luck without me!”
I had just slammed the door to my car when Justin came sprinting after me. He climbed in and gave me the obvious ‘what the fuck’.
“I’m not dealing with this shit,” I said simply without looking at him. “John is full of some fucked up ideas. Chris has no spine. That new guy has torn everything to shit—I’m out, Justin. I’m out.”
He nodded slowly.
“I only joined to be with Ty—” I stopped myself, looking at Justin suddenly; abruptly. “I’m out.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Are you coming with me?” I asked seriously. “I have the golden ticket, remember?”
He smiled and gave me one more nod.
We pulled away—away from the boys, away from the band, and away from that part of my life.
I never looked back.

Notes

Few more to go.

xx