Retrovertigo

“Morning,” I grumbled, nodding at Frank—the latest producer to stroll into my life—as I sipped from my coffee with a Brody hot on my heels.
He’d insisted he’d fallen under the weather and was unable to head off to school. But, by some divine miracle, when the time rolled around for me to head off for the studio, my boy was cured. Brian had laughed, endlessly entertained by our son’s shenanigans.
“I’m not sick enough not to go with you,” Brody had insisted happily. “I want to see you sing!”
I’d exchanged high-arced brows with Brian but ultimately gave in.
As Brody and I rounded the corner and barreled through the studio door, I was elated and amused to find the DeBoer twins arguing over a bagel. Justin met my gaze, letting his eyes fall limply to my child before climbing back up to me again. He smiled knowingly as I closed the distance between us.
The bagel argument was swiftly resolved and the young girls sat along the floor, happily nibbling at the seasoned bread. Brody pulled up a spot beside them and the triad instantly set off into an exploration of personalities.
“Take your kid to work day, am I right?” Justin grinned.
I leaned against the amp that currently housed his weight and nodded, “Apparently.”
“Elizabeth had an appointment,” Justin clarified, not that it was needed. “So, while Ryder’s at school, I’m stuck with the terror twins.”
I smirked, “Four kids…Too many.”
“No fucking shit,” Justin concurred, his eyes wide with the horror that was his life. “But Mona’s an awesome mother. I just ride her coattails.”
I laughed, “So she says.”
“Shut up,” he chuckled. “She’d never say that. The woman worships the ground I walk on.”
“If you say so, Jay,” I smirked.
Their first pregnancy had been entirely planned and was met with utter excitement. Ryder was just six months younger than Brody, corralling a wild group of toddlers into the mix. It made for interesting weekends and even more interesting stories. Between Owen, Brody, and Ryder, we were all kept perpetually on our toes.
And then, just eight months later, Mona was pregnant again. She was less than ecstatic about it, her mind already permanently exhausted by her infant. The idea of having another baby on her arm was enough to send her into a panic.
And then she found out it wasn’t a baby.
I’ll let you work out her reaction on your own.
They’d come into the world as much trouble as they’d caused Mona’s independence. But they were cuter than anything and sweet as could be. When I’d gone down to meet them, marking their entrance into the world with a card and pink balloons, I hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of feelings Justin would thrust onto my chest.
“Who do we have here?” I’d asked squeakily, my heart melting at the sight of two identical beings clad all in shades of pink.
Brian was on my heels, Brody positioned neatly against his shoulder as he looked on with a wild curiosity only a toddler could wield.
Justin and Mona had exchanged glances, my female friend giving a subtle nod before Justin turned to look at me once more. He pulled one twin from Mona’s arms and carefully passed her to me. My ovaries exploded in an instant.
“This,” Justin smiled, his eyes fondling falling over his newborn daughter, “is Tyler.”
My eyes had brimmed with fond salt, my breath catching in my throat as I struggled to repeat, “Tyler.”
“We loved it for a girl,” Mona spoke from her bed.
“It’s perfect,” I concurred happily, running a finger over the baby’s chest.
I turned her to Brian and Brody for proper examination, Brian’s lips curling into adoration. Brody’s eyes widened with fascination. With my attention currently occupied by my own family fawning all over the infant, I had missed Justin pulling his second daughter from her mother.
As I turned, my eyes falling over the sleeping girl, Justin smiled, “And this is Ryan.”
“Ryan,” I repeated blankly.
“Yes, Ryan,” Mona piped up with an awkward laugh.
Justin smirked, “Like you.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, taken aback by the namesake. “I just…Really?”
My friend laughed, “We thought Blair might get too confusing.”
“Not that I didn’t really fight for it!” Mona added, a snarky look shot over at her husband.
“But we thought it was kind of perfect,” Justin smiled warmly. “Honoring two of our most beloved humans.”
My eyes overwhelmed themselves as I snuggled Baby Tyler closer to my chest. It was a sentiment that I never forgot and I never dishonored. And as time moved us forward, I found a connection brew between Ryan DeBoer and I. She found it endlessly interesting to share a name with me and I found her endlessly endearing.
“It’s a good day,” Justin declared, startling me from my memories. “I’m fucking pumped we’re back in the studio. It’s been way too long.”
I nodded, “And tomorrow the film crew will be here. Won’t that be fun…”
“It will,” Justin laughed, nudging me with his elbow. “How’s that going by the way?”
I sighed, boring my eyes into the brown lid of my coffee cup, watching as the steam spilled up and into the air, “It’s fine.”
“That well, huh?” Justin snickered.
“No…It’s fine,” I reiterated, more firmly this time. “It’s just a bit…much. It’s really fucking weird to dig through the past.”
Justin nodded, “Especially yours.”
“Thank you for that,” I laughed dryly.
I watched as Pete hauled himself into a chair, his guitar stationed properly across his knee. He and Frank exchanged words about god knows what before Frank hurriedly returned to his booth and plunked a set of headphones over his ears.
“What are we starting with?” Justin asked curiously, sipping at his own coffee.
“I just got here, dude,” I snickered. “You think I know?”
Justin narrowed his eyes at me, “You’re grumpy in the morning. I forgot.”
“I’m grumpy all the time,” I grinned.
Frank pulled the headphones from his skull, leaning back in his chair to garner my attention.
“Ready for you, B!”
I cleared my throat awkwardly, “Piano?”
“Unless you wanted to give Acapela a try,” he retorted teasingly.
I rolled my eyes, frowning at Justin. It wasn’t as if I’d come to work expecting to sit around and bide my time—but sometimes that was exactly what would happen. Of course, I should have anticipated that we’d begin with piano. I should have gone to bed earlier.
Plunking myself onto the piano bench and setting my cup of coffee carefully onto the floor, I glanced over at Frank.
“What are we starting with?”
Justin laughed loudly from his place along the amps. I shot a warning glare over my shoulder at him, which only made him laugh harder.
How lucky I was to have retained his friendship. If you’d asked me in my youth if I’d thought I’d ever be civil with Justin DeBoer, I would have answered with a hard no. But there we were, ten years out from our collective loss—and we were closer than ever. With every year we aged, Justin and I seemed to grow more and more connected.
Our children were being raised together, our lives intertwined through our music and our careers. Justin would be my home while we were out on the road, just as he’d been every time before.
I made a quick mental note to check in with Gabe about the tour prospects. It had been months and I still hadn’t heard anything about a confirmation.
“White Mustang or Hope,” Frank shrugged. “Your choice.”
I nodded, “White Mustang.”
Eleanor, Frank’s trusty right-hand woman, scurried up to my side, dropping the sheet music into my open palms. She was a timid creature, eternally nervous and strange…but she had a great ear and she was pleasant enough in our chats leading up to recording.
We ran through the chords fourteen times before Frank had decided he had a base to work from. Justin was hauled in next, the children still entertaining themselves by his feet. My hands exhausted in the best way, I retreated to the sidelines.
I watched as Brody giggled along with his DeBoer buddies, his nose crinkling with delight. My heart soared at his effortless delight.
Just as my interest leveled out, the studio door banged shut. I glanced up curiously, a familiar pair of doe eyes staring back at me. I smiled widely, hopping up to rush over to my favourite human.
“Hey there,” he grinned, leaning down to plant a kiss on my lips.
“Hey yourself,” I replied.
He thrust a fresh cup of coffee toward me, “Thought you might be in need of a refill already.”
With a laugh, I took the cup from him and gave it a subtle shake, “Lucky number four.”
“How’s it going in here?” he asked curiously.
“Good!” I decided. “Just laid down some bare bones piano…Justin’s doing his thing.”
Brian nodded his head along, his eyes moving around the room until they landed on the trio of children on the floor, “Bring your kids to work day, huh?”
“Okay, Justin,” I groaned, pulling the hot liquid to my mouth.
“Do you have time for a smoke?” Brian asked me lightly.
I nodded, glancing up at the clock hanging on the back wall.
“Hey, Pete?” I called over to the guitarist, who lazily met my eyes. “Can you keep an eye on the offspring for a minute?”
He smirked, “Sure thing, Blair.”
I gestured for Brian to lead the way, greedily snatching his pocket from his back pocket as we walked. We folded ourselves into the wooden picnic table out back, making small talk about my track list for the album and the overall vibe I was seeking. I loved to talk music with Brian but was always undeniably shy about my own work.
Anything to do with Avenged Sevenfold, I could talk until I was blue in the fucking face.
I loved when Brian would fill me in on their newest ideas and samples. We worked to demo his thoughts into palpable creations to feed to the others. So, when they brought Brooks on and eventually began working on The Stage, our house was ripe with Deathbat talk.
It was the happiest I’d seen Brian in many, many years.
Just as we moved into discussion of my crown jewel of a song for the album—or the tune I was proudest of, anyway—Gabe’s distinct voice cut through the chatter.
“Working hard, I see,” he snickered, tucking his briefcase under his arm.
I nodded, “It’s a grueling life, but someone has to do it.”
He rolled his eyes, warmly exchanging a quick hello with Brian before settling back onto me, “I’m actually glad to have caught you on your own…”
“Yeah?” I asked, an eyebrow raised. “Why’s that?”
“An opportunity has presented itself,” he explained slowly, almost…nervously.
I looked to Brian for quiet reassurance, his forehead wrinkled with curiosity.
“Before you flip out,” Gabe began, albeit not a promising start, “just listen to what I have to say.”
Instinctively, I lit another cigarette from Brian’s pack.
As the smoke trailed off into the heavens, I nodded, “Go on.”
“Well…As you know, this year is the tenth anniversary to mark Tyler Brody’s passing…”
A growl nearly escaped me as I climbed into my natural defense, “Really? I had no idea.”
“Blair,” Gabe warned me as Brian reached over and took my free hand into his.
Bri was always stepping in to calm my nerves. He was truly a patient god among men.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, flicking the ash away. “Continue.”
“It, um…” Gabe glanced back and forth between Brian and I.
I smirked, “Did you want a minute alone with my husband? Or?”
“No,” my manager laughed nervously. “It’s…Brian, prepare yourself.”
Brian furrowed his brows, “For what?”
“The timing is…predictable,” Gabe forewarned, taking a deep breath before meeting my gaze with bravery. “A representative reached out to me this morning…They’d like a meeting…with you.”
I twirled my cigarette around into the air, making tiny and insignificant circles with the smoke.
“Okay,” I shrugged. “A representative for who?”
Gabriel looked to Brian once more, my husband effectively giving my hand a squeeze. It was as if Brian was psychic and saw it coming a mile away. Or I was incredibly naïve and borderline idiotic—I couldn’t have predicted what was coming for the life of me. It knocked the wind clear from my lungs.
“Haven.”

Notes

Oh, shit (what's in the bucket)

xx