Just Before You Go

We all lingered around, waiting quietly for sound check to round the corners of time. Jimmy was pestering Brian, a common occurrence without cause for concern. He swatted at his friend between attempts to strum at his guitar, but Jimmy’s excitement could not be contained. I was sure what exactly had him so excited. Maybe it was the luster of getting back into the swing of performing, or maybe it was just Jimmy.
When Blair Peterson swung the door open and climbed inside with haste, she startled every single one of us. She laughed an apology, reading all of our horrified faces with ease.
“I need to steal some of you,” she explained lazily.
“Is it time?” Jimmy asked excitedly, releasing his chokehold on Brian.
She nodded.
“Come on, Bri-Bri!” Jimmy prodded enthusiastically. “It’s time!”
“Time for what?” Zach asked carelessly, turning the page of his magazine.
Jimmy scowled, “None of your business, Vengeance.”
“Okay then,” Zach huffed with a laugh. “Have fun.”
Brian tucked his guitar back into its case, locking it tight. He followed Jimmy passed Blair and into the lot dripping in sunlight outside. Blair’s eyes found me, rather expectantly. I was confused.
“Come on,” she insisted like I should have known.
I glanced around at the unmoving stragglers left on the Avenged bus and then back at Blair, “Where am I going?”
“I need you to come with me,” was all she said before disappearing back into the world from whence she’d come.
Zach grinned up at me as I cautiously climbed to my feet, straightening out the wrinkles in my pants, “Have fun.”
“Do you know what this is about?” I asked him desperately.
He licked at his thumb, turning another page, “Nope. But Jimmy’s all fuckin’ bouncy and shit, so I’m assuming it’s something ridiculous.”
“Great,” I groaned, hesitantly escaping from the comfort of the bus.
I latched the bus door behind me, letting my fingers hesitate on the handle. Jimmy was already across the lot, shrieking at the rest of us to hurry up. Brian and Blair were muttering quietly to one another, the only words I caught escaped from Brian as he said ‘it will be great’. She nodded without confidence, sinking her gaze into the concrete.
My feet trailed behind them as we crossed the distance to the venue. Blair lingered behind Brian as she held the door, no doubt waiting for me to pick up the pace.
“I need you here,” she said to me, probably sensing my confusion. “I just need a fly on the wall…And you need to see everything…So…”
“A fly on the wall?” I quizzed, tilting my head like an intrigued pup.
She nodded, “Friendly support and whatever.”
“Okay,” I agreed—despite the fact I didn’t know what I was agreeing to.
Blair led us through the hallways, drumming haphazardly against her hip as we strolled. Jimmy was hanging off of Brian up ahead, excitedly bounding around like a rabid gazelle. When we finally hit the stage, Haven was scattered around. Tyler was talking to the female tech, laughing all the while. It was a sight that brought a bit of warmth to my day.
Before I could get settled on the foreground too permanently, Blair was shooing them all away.
“I want to show you guys something,” she explained weakly. “So…Can you just go sit in the audience?”
John was the first to object, citing the wild lacking of necessity for such a thing. Chris joined in with less enthusiasm, but the same notion. Tyler silenced them all, agreeing wholeheartedly with Blair’s wishes. He forced the others into the seats, where I followed because I wasn’t sure where else to be.
To my surprise, Brian grabbed a guitar from the wings and Jimmy took a seat behind Justin’s drum kit. Justin was honored by the spectacle, bragging about it into Tyler’s ear. Blair positioned herself at the piano’s microphone, tapping at it like it was some foreign object that could be dissected by touch alone. She ran her fingers across the keys quickly, out of nerves rather than curiosity.
“Okay,” she spoke into it, nerves pinching at the lines stretching out from her green eyes. “I know this is different…But I’ve been working on something…I want to pitch it to you. This was the only way I could think to do that.”
The Haven boys chattered quietly among themselves—Tyler was the only one who kept his eyes permanently fixated on Blair. He sported a proud little grin despite the indifference he was swimming next to.
She took a deep breath, moving her glance from Brian to Jimmy and back, receiving two distinct nods from each respective party. And with that, she pushed her hands into the ivories.
“I paint my nails black.
I dye my hair a darker shade of brown,
Because you like your women Spanish; dark, strong and proud.
I paint the sky black.
You said if you could have your way.
You'd make a night time of today so it suits the mood of your soul.”
Brian strummed along quietly, igniting the most subtly beautiful smile in Blair that I’d ever seen.
“Oh, what can I do? Nothing, my sparrow blue.”
Blair’s voice never ceased to amaze me. There was something so elegantly raw about it that always threw spades of chills through my bones. The tone of the song was slow, dreary, and sad. I let my eyes wander to Tyler, who looked a whole lot like a proud parent at their kid’s recital. The others, save for Justin, were scowling—practically seething and foaming from the mouth.
Dissatisfied with their dissatisfaction, my eyes peeled away and focused on Jimmy. He was spinning the drumsticks around, waiting for his moment no doubt.
The moment came, rounding out their little trio with expertise. The power of it all hit us all like a wall—everyone fell into a fascinated silence.
“Oh, what can I do?
Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue.
Sun and ocean blue.
Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you.
Black beauty.
Oh, black beauty.”
I watched Jimmy as he immersed himself in a sound I’d never heard come from his hands. It was slow, had no need for double bass. It was such a departure that I almost didn’t recognize him sitting behind the kit. But he looked out passed the Blair at me and he smiled. I died for that smile.
Brian was watching Blair like she held the key to the world’s greatest mysteries. She was humble on the stage, despite the way she commanded it.
As the music slowed again, dulling in its power, the Haven boys began to murmur again.
“What the fuck is this?” John grunted.
Chris shrugged, seemingly in agreement that it was nothing they’d want to play. I’d admit that it was a far departure from Haven’s sound—but surely it could be tweaked to fit in with what the band saw for its future, no?
“Shut the fuck up,” Justin hissed at them, his face beaming with awe.
“I paint the house black,
My wedding dress black leather, too.
You have no room for light,
Love is lost on you.
I keep my lips red, they seem like cherries in the spring.
Darling, you can't let everything seem so dark blue.
But, oh, what can I do?
To turn you on or get through you?”
As the makeshift trio moved back into Blair’s magnificent chorus, John had had enough. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he was out of his seat and headed for the exit. Chris wasn’t far behind, shrugging at Tyler’s shock.
Blair took this as the only input she’d ever need, gesturing for Brian and Jimmy to cut. They did, but with grim disappointed bouncing around the stage.
“Where are you going?” she said into the microphone, halting John and Chris’s escape attempt.
John laughed sarcastically, shouting to make up for the distance, “This is a joke, right?”
“No,” she replied but it sounded out more like a question.
“I was afraid of that,” he retorted. “Stick to co-writing, Blair. We don’t make music like this. This is garbage.”
Blair’s jaw drop, her heart suffering a severe wound. Brian instinctively took a protective step toward his love.
“Dude,” Tyler grunted, whipping around to properly face the bassist.
“What?” John maintained.
Blair hopped down from her place on the stage, inclined to work through her criticism.
“I know it’s slow,” she said as soon as she was close enough not to scream. “But we could—”
“It’s depressing,” Chris told her, feeding off John’s negativity.
John nodded, “No one wants to hear music to slit your wrists to, Blair.”
“Fuck you,” she huffed.
“I thought it was great,” Justin shrugged, stretching his legs out atop the seat ahead of him.
His casual demeanor was almost funny enough to break the tension.
“Your voice was incredible,” Tyler added onto Justin’s positivity. “And I thought—”
John cut them off impatiently, “Don’t fucking humor her. You’re only going to make the problem worse.”
“The problem?” Blair challenged.
He nodded, “That you think you’re more than some tool to get us publicity.”
Her jaw hit the floor with a crushing thud.
Tyler was on his feet, ready to defend her honor without question.
“That’s fine,” Blair rallied. “This is basically what I expected…So…no problem.”
In true Blair form, she filed out from the venue without another word. Tyler, however, was full of words and was unleashing them onto John and Chris’s deaf ears.
Given that I’d only played audience because Blair had insisted, I figured I should follow her. It took a bit of running, but I finally caught her heading through the exit. She had a cigarette lit and was pulling at it like it held heroin instead of nicotine.
“Blair!” I called to her, hoping it would have her relent in her pace.
It didn’t.
By time I’d caught up, we were outside the Haven bus. It was desolate, the members undoubtedly still stuffed inside the cheap seats arguing about Blair’s brilliance. She disappeared inside, despite the smoke spiraling up from her fingers. I waited outside, unsure how to proceed.
If she hadn’t waited for me, then she probably didn’t wish to speak. Blair was hard to react to under the best circumstances—she was remarkably hard to read.
But she emerged from the bus before I had time to really consider my options. She held a bundle of white paper in one tattooed arm.
“Do you know anything about contract law?” she asked bluntly.
Initially confused, I hesitated about the question. Eventually, though, I ran through the course guide I’d been forced to memorize throughout my law degree pursuits.
“Yes,” I confirmed sternly.
“Good,” she grunted, tossing the stapled pack of paper into my unexpecting arms. “This is my Haven contract. Get me out of it.”

Notes

Stealing my note from Trashed and Scattered here, so if you've been there already...please disregard the following.

I don't typically make mention of shit like this, but I've seen some disheartening shit that I feel someone should address. So, prepare for a tangent. I apologize in advance haha

I've noticed that someone's gone on a fucking rampage of down-voting every single story on the front page. Every. Single. One.

Given that most of my stories are mammoth in size, I find it a bit strange that someone can grant me a 1 on this story in a matter of seconds from down-voting Trashed and Scattered as well. That's a rate of speed reading that even I could never hope to accomplish! Kudos to you, Lightning McQueen!

That said, everyone is entitled to their opinions and if you don't like my writing style or my plots, that's totally fine. No harm, no foul. I can appreciate that not everyone will love the madness your mind conjures up.

But here's the thing.

If you don't like something, perhaps we just leave it alone. What do you seriously get out of shitting all over someone's rating? These are stories people have labored over and dared to share with the world. What are you getting out of telling them it isn't good enough? What does that offer to your life? Maybe the ratings don't mean anything to some of us, but to others I know that it hits them right in the soul.

This community is typically so supportive and kind...so, to go out of your way to purposefully make someone feel like shit doesn't sit well with me. It's a petty thing to do and it's one that I, myself, have never done. I don't see the point in making someone feel lesser or poorly. I'd rather spend my time building up other writers and encouraging them while they put themselves out there for the world to see. If I don't like a story, I don't read it. I don't leave hateful shit and I have never even considered down-voting. But maybe that's just me.

Anyway, I'm sorry for going on a rant. Those are my two cents on the matter. If you don't enjoy my stories, by all means don't read them. I won't take it personally--I totally get it!

But unless you've read through my mammoth amount of fiction, I'm not sure you get to make a judgement call on their quality.

Let's all be supportive. Be kind and encouraging. Don't be hateful or spiteful or petty. It's ridiculous.

To all the stories that got hit by the down-voting spree, I fucking see you. And I love your shit. Keep doing you. We'll wave our 10s goodbye together.

This story is rearing to a close and I thought I'd finish it strong with 18 votes at 10. So, to whoever took that away from me after 104 chapters, thank you. I really appreciate the sentiment.

Be fucking kind to one another.

xx