11. Wesley
Wesley
I pace the length of my dressing room. With thirty minutes left before the concert, if Avery was going to come, she’d be here by now.
Did I mistake what she said? No. I remember it clearly.
She said she’d come back and meet me before the show.
Then the guys gave me shit the way they used to.
Well, everyone but Luca, though after that first rehearsal, things have been better.
Mostly because we avoid each other all together.
Maybe something happened. Or Atlanta’s notorious traffic caused a delay.
Footsteps approach and pause at the door. I straighten, tugging at the hem of my distressed shirt.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,” I say as the door creaks open.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting on these. They were just delivered,” the confused assistant says, holding out a vase with a bouquet.
“Do you know who they’re from?”
He shakes his head. “No, but there’s a note we checked before letting it through. No name, but sounds like someone you used to work with sending their congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
I take the vase from him and duck back inside. Should I text Avery? Or would that be too much. She’s been keeping her distance, but after last night I’m not sure what the rules are.
Setting the flowers down, I take a moment to inspect the gift. There’s something about it that’s off. Not just the fact that most executives display their names loud and proud.
The floor seems to drop out from under me as I recognize the flower dominating the arrangement. A pink trumpet-shaped bloom with six distinct petals. My fingers tremble as I pluck the note free.
Sorry I couldn’t make it. Will watch the concert from LA. Thankful for the nice checks that keep coming because of it.
Even though it isn’t signed, I know who they’re from.
My old manager and girlfriend Maddie always liked sending me lilies before performances.
God. It’s been so long, but even now, every muscle in my body tenses at the reminder that, even though I’ve moved on to a new life, she still owns a part of my past. The part of my life I loved the most until she ruined it.
“We need to head to the stage.” Garrett’s low timbre shocks me back into the moment. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there.
I whip to face him, my elbow slamming hard against the glass vase sending it to the floor with a sharp crash. Glass shards skitter throughout the room, water seeping into the thin carpet.
“Shit.” I crouch down and attempt to pick up the mess. Another mess I couldn’t help but make. Why am I so clumsy with every fragile thing in my life? Avery. Fool’s Gambit. Everything. The only thing I can’t seem to shatter is my own career.
I reach for a large piece and stumble from my awkward crouch, slicing the fleshy part of my palm. Beads of blood seep to the surface a second before the lighting jolt of pain lances up my arm.
“Fucking idiot,” Garrett snaps. He hoists me up and away, tucking his arms under mine. “I hate it when you do shit like this.”
“Like what?” I snap. “It’s just a cut.” That is starting to throb, but I won’t let her get to me. A reaction is what she’d want and I won’t give it even when she can’t see.
Air gusts from my lungs as he shoves me hard against the door.
His fists clench around the collar of my shirt, pulling the fabric taut around my neck.
“Is it? Because last time, it was just you throwing a punch to start a fight you were never going to win. It matters that you get hurt. I’m so sick of you pretending you don’t care, because I know you do.
I know Wesley Gaflin cares an annoying amount and he was the only person who could have convinced me to join his stupid band,” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at once.” Humor comes on instinct. Garrett is the one person who stuck with me through everything, but he’s never once voiced any of this.
“Wesley.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Take better care of yourself, because there are people who give a damn about your wellbeing. Promise me that I won’t have to call your mom one day and tell her you’re in the hospital.”
It’s the final nail, pounded right through my chest. For so long, I’ve pretended that I’m the only one affected by my actions, and even then, Derek or Garrett makes the consequences go away. But he’s right. If I keep going like this, one day I’ll be met with something I can’t recover from.
I can’t do that to them. I can’t be another person Mom sobs over in a hospital bed.
A knock rattles the door against my back sending a vibration through my spine. “Everything okay in there?”
“I promise,” I say, my throat is tight.
Garrett releases me. I step aside and open the door, throwing on a sheepish smile to the crew member on the other side. “All good. Well, mostly. There was a bit of an accident with a vase.” I shift so they can see then hold up my hand. “I also might need a bandage before going on.”
The on-site medical staff clean and bandage the gash in my hand. It’s shallow and doesn’t require any major care, but it throbs. A not-so-pleasant reminder I’ll have to carry with me through the performance.
Once I’m free to go, I’m rushed to the stage, where everyone else is already waiting.
“Sorry for the hang-up,” I say.
Garrett’s eyes find mine and I hold up my hand to show him everything is fine.
“Everyone good to go?” a stage manager asks, obviously eager to usher us into position.
“Just one second.” I step forward to look at my bandmates.
“This is our last time doing this. And I’ve waited this long to tell you all how much it means to me that you took a chance on us all those years ago.
I should have thanked you then, or anytime in the last ten years.
We’ve already proved to the world we’re worth remembering. Let’s just have fun out there tonight.”
“Couldn’t help but be dramatic one last time,” Luca jabs, but there’s no venom in it.
“Gotta take every opportunity I still have.” Because there’s a chance that, after tonight, I’ll never see Luca again.
I don’t know how to make amends for the past. The least I can do is help give us all this closure.
He never got that final performance with the rest of us. Now it really does feel like the end.
“Fuck. These lights are bright,” Jared says, his eyes glossy.
“The lights are all off,” Garrett says.
Jared squints, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, because we’re supposed to be out there.”
There’s something in the way Garrett says it. We’re supposed to be out there, but it’s not just about tonight. It’s something deeper that we’ve earned and can’t be taken away. Not by Maddie or anyone else.
Jared and Luca step forward, but a firm grip clasps my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I nod; Garrett lets me go and walks past me to join them, leaving me a step behind, where it feels like I’ve been trapped for ages. But I move forward, closing the gap to join them.
The songs fly by as we return them to the fans who watch in person or over the livestream. The audience sings along, my voice joined by thousands. Cheers sound as Jared plays an intricate riff. Luca tosses a drumstick in the air and catches it with ease.
When the second to last song ends, I step forward.
“Thank you all for being here. Without you, we’d just have been some guys playing music in Luca’s parents’ garage.
You gave us the whole world, and we’re so happy to relive the highlights with you.
We never could have imagined that our music would have such an impact after a decade.
You haven’t let us become ‘Half a Memory.’” I pause, and I’m met with a roar of applause.
“And don’t forget, you can see me and an old friend of the band, Avery Sloane, on our tour kicking off later this year. ”
She’s up on the balcony with an unreadable expression.
A chill rips through me straight to my bones.
Something is off, I just can’t figure out what and I don’t have time to speculate as the opening strains of the finale start.
The one we never got the first time around and now that we have it, I won’t let the moment slip by.
The lights dim to a hazy glow. The drums fade, and each of us step closer to the edge, united. I wonder if that’s what these people think. That we’re the same—still young, still friends, as if time gave us a free pass—even as they’ve aged. But for the three men beside me, this is goodbye.
You and I were only half a memory.
I think about it all the time.
We were only half a memory, but it’s my favorite place to hide.
Tell me I won’t find you one day. Tell me this isn’t goodbye.
The song ends and we bow. There’s a moment before we exit when we’re all rooted in place. This is it. A freeze frame.
Us. The Crowd. The music that made this happen.
And then we’re walking off, the sounds of the crowd muted by the thick velvet curtains that start to pull closed.
“I missed that,” I say, stretching one arm over my head.
“Sure, ’cause it’s been, what? Four months since your last tour.” Garrett scoffs as he pushes his way into the green room.
A year, but I get the point. Why should this feel special for me when I never gave it up? Signatures and posters line the walls, a defiant contrast to the gothic Southern elegance of the rest of the venue.
“No. I meant I missed this. Us.” I collapse onto the couch. “It’s not the same.”
Jared flops down next to me, his sweat-soaked hair falling into his eyes as he exhales heavily.
“I get what you mean. Sometimes, I wish we stuck it out a little longer. Made that last album. I love my family, but sometimes I miss how big you can feel out there.” He stops, looking at each of us.
“I swear, if you repeat any of that to Alyssa… Honestly, I’ve never felt so stressed over anything in my life. ”
“You’re serious?” Luca asks.