Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
ONYX
Benson has been in a foul mood since he shoved Cash and I knocked him on his ass.
His level of hostility has spiked to a brand-new level.
It’s gotten to the point where his ranting and raving about literally anything under the sun—including the sun that has the audacity to shine too brightly today—that I feel a twitch forming at the corner of my eye.
We’ve been practicing for the past hour, and I’ve had e-fucking-nough. I stand and slam my sticks down. Ben turns to look at me, and I yell, “If you don’t calm your balls, I won’t be playing at the bar tonight.”
“You can’t do that,” he snaps.
“Fucking watch me. You’ve pushed my patience to the point where I don’t give a fuck anymore. You’re a miserable asshole, and I’m fed up.”
He opens his mouth, and I lose my shit. I practically leap over my damn drum set and grip the front of his shirt and shake him. “Try me, fuckhead,” I growl. “I am so fucking over you. Do you hear me? I’m fucking over your bullshit. Keep pushing me, Benson, and I swear to fuck, I’m done.”
Benson stares at me. He’s still angry. I can see it burning in his eyes. But he can see that I’m serious. I’ve reached the end of my rope.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t respond. Smart of him.
I force my hand to unclench and let him go. Without a word, I leave the garage. Ben and Bryce watch me go. It’s not long before I hear Bryce leaving, too. They don’t speak to each other.
I’m not sure where I’m going at first. I just walk. I need to get away from him. He’s poison. I’ve spent too much time in his noxious aura that I grabbed his shirt. I don’t know when we graduated to physical violence, but I was so fucking close to punching him.
That’s not me. I’m not hostile. I’m not bitter and angry, and violent.
I need to get away from Benson for a while.
My feet carry me to the docks, so I lock my phone away and get on the ferry. There I stay for an hour, passing by all the stops. Staring at the people getting on and off the ferry to go to work or explore an island or whatever. I don’t see them. Not really.
By the time we pull out of Bane for the third time since I stepped onto the ferry, one of the crew sits beside me. Tad gives me a smile when I look in his direction.
“You lost, man?” he asks.
“No. Cooling down.”
Tad glances up at the blazing sun. “Yes. I can see that.”
I try to laugh. The sound that comes out is less than genuine. I’m not sure it could even be confused as a laugh’s second cousin.
“Having a bad day?”
“Questioning some of my life choices,” I say and stare at nothing as the ferry slowly moves toward Etsumi.
“Ah. I can see that.”
I release a bitter snort. “I’m sure you can. I’m sure everyone can.”
“Reached the end of your rope, huh? Finally?”
“It’s not easy to walk away from someone you’ve been with your entire life. Even though he’s not the person he once was.”
“Breakups are hard.”
I meet his eyes, and he’s smirking. “I know. You’re not gay!”
“Fucker,” I mutter, huffing.
“I’ve always said that breaking up with friends is far more difficult than breaking up with a lover.
Friends know all your secrets. They’ve been there for all the traumatic moments in life, celebrated all your achievements, witnessed you falling in love, and got mad on your behalf when you went through your first broken heart.
Friends are supposed to represent a true forever, right?
They’re chosen family, which for so many people can mean a whole lot more than the family you were born into. ”
Tad grips my arm as he gets to his feet.
I absently watch him as I think about what he just said.
He’s methodical as he reaches for the bar to bring the ferry closer to the dock, though he barely has to do anything.
The ferry captains are experts. These aren’t large ferries, either.
I think they hold a couple dozen people max.
There are eight ferries, and they run around the clock, so there’s rarely a time when capacity is reached.
With his foot, Tad lowers the metal plank to the dock until it locks into place. The railings pop upright as it lowers. When it’s set, he unclips the barrier and lets passengers off. A new group of seven replaces them. Then he releases the plank in reverse.
Tad sits beside me again.
“You know, most of those events I haven’t actually experienced with him because he’s been an ass that long. He’s not been the safe space a friend is supposed to be. So… why do I feel guilty at the idea of abandoning him?”
“Unlike him, you’re a good person,” Tad answers.
“I don’t believe he’s a bad person deep down. Really deep down. We’re talking so deep that we’d reach hell if we tried to dig it up.”
Tad laughs.
“I don’t really know what to do,” I admit. “I know what I should do. I know what I need to do. I know what he deserves. But I don’t know if I can make myself do it.”
“You don’t owe anyone loyalty who hasn’t offered it in return.”
“He’s an ass. I’m not sure he’s unloyal.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Onyx. All the things you said you haven’t shared mean he hasn’t been your friend in years.
What kind of friend is he if you feel unsafe sharing your life with him?
Especially when you answer the question why haven’t you felt comfortable sharing it?
Because he won’t accept your experiences.
He won’t approve of them. He won’t keep them safe or make you feel secure.
His loyalty is conditional. Vulnerability is weaponized and condemned.
The minute you become anything he doesn’t approve of, he’ll turn his nastiness on you, and you know that, which is why you haven’t shared your life with him. He doesn’t even know you, does he?”
My stomach clenches, and I close my eyes to fight the sting there. “No,” I whisper. I hate that he’s right.
Tad grips my arm, and this time, when he gets up, he doesn’t return. He talks with other residents and some guests. He does his job.
I ride the ferry for another hour and then head home to teach my students. Today is Nikky and Jaycen. They’re brothers, twelve and six respectively.
Seeing them together usually makes me happy. It restores my confidence in what siblings are supposed to be. Today, I can’t muster that same happiness, though. I just want to get away.
Their two hours feel like six. When they leave, I wash my bedding and clean my bedroom. Since I can’t find anything to occupy my thoughts, I clean the kitchen and living room too. I disassemble my drums and clean them and the area around them.
By the time I make my bed, it’s time to head to the bar. I’ll be late. I want Ben to sweat, thinking I won’t show up.
It’s half-past eight when I arrive, and Benson is furious. I ignore him entirely and stop at the bar to grab a set of drumsticks that are stored there. I think there are something like five pairs. Beth hands me a set and gives me a meaningful look. I’m guessing that means Ben is in a ripe mood.
Silently, I take my place behind my drums and wait for Benson to introduce us. He’s watching me. Expectantly, maybe.
“You’re lucky I’m even here,” I warn him. “One word, Ben, and I’m leaving.”
His nostrils flare in anger, and I get his back.
His voice is sharp as he introduces us on the mic.
Instead of playing the song he indicated he wanted to sing first, I lead us into Lies from Heaven, and after that, I force him to sing Apologies and Other Shit.
I ignore his playlist for the entire first set, right up until he signals us to go to break.
He turns on me when the mic is off, and I raise an eyebrow in challenge. Try me. I really want to walk out right now.
Benson must know exactly what I’m thinking because he turns and jumps off the stage to stomp his way to the bar. I planned to stay right here until I realize Cash is in his corner and that’s where Ben is heading. To the person he thinks he can bully, since he’s getting nowhere with me.
Furious and frustrated, I follow him.
“Why are you always here?” Benson practically yells.
Cash’s back is against the wall, which means his side is leaning against the bar, and he’s facing the rest of the room. He looks at his brother with disinterest and rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately for you, you’re not the king of the bar.”
“There are dozens of bars. Go somewhere else.”
“Or you could go somewhere else. You’re shit. You bring the band down.”
Benson fumes. His hands clench. I see a flash of fury in his eyes, and he takes several steps toward his brother.
Without thinking, I shove him away roughly. “Back off, Ben.”
“Why are you always—”
“Because you’re not only acting like a fucking piece of trash in public, but you’re also representing the band right now,” I snap. “Grow the fuck up already. He’s literally doing nothing at all but sitting here. That’s it. He hasn’t even looked at you. Leave him alone already.”
Ben is so fucking angry he’s turning purple. I hold his angry stare. There’s movement behind the bar, but I don’t look away. You don’t break eye contact with a rabid animal. Or maybe the saying is you don’t look a rabid animal in the eyes to begin with?
Whatever.
“This is bullshit,” Ben says. He turns on his heel and literally stomps off. I hear his footfalls as if he’s a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I half expect to hear a door slam in the distance.
“I don’t know why you stay in the band with him,” Cash mutters, turning his back on me. “You realize he’s a reflection on you, right?”
I sigh. Once again, I don’t make the conscious decision to move closer, and yet, I take a few steps nearer all the same. “I’m sorry.”
Cash rolls his eyes, waving me off without turning around. “Whatever. Just think about what everyone says about you while you constantly run interference.”
“I’m trying to—”
Cash spins on his stool, and the irritation in his eyes is loud.
No matter how loud it is, I also see the hurt behind it.
“You can’t change him, Onyx. He’s going to be an unprovoked asshole no matter what you say.
What you really need to take into consideration is the fact that your concern for him is far greater than his concern for how his behavior makes you look.
This is a one-way friendship. How does that make you feel? ”
“ONYX!” Benson yells from the other side of the bar.
“You better go,” Cash says, once more giving me his back. “You left your leash too long.”
“That’s not fair.” My voice is barely above a whisper. His words sting. I stare at Cash for a minute before I sigh in resignation and head for Ben.
He’s at the other end of the bar. Beth has a drink ready for me, and I chug the entire glass before I hand it back. As I’m walking away, I hear Ben start bitching about being denied a drink. He’s allowed water. That’s it.
Good. At least someone has the courage to tell him no for literally anything at all. Apparently, I’m not that person.
I sit behind my drums and close my eyes. When I open them again, I’m staring at Cash. He’s not looking in my direction. He’s talking to Lie.
Bryce joins me a minute later. Benson continues to throw a tantrum at the bar until Laiken tells him he’s on his last warning for the night. That has Ben stomping his way back to the stage. Nothing seems to be going his way tonight.
“Are you going to play my set or your own?” he barks at me.
“Considering they’re all my songs, I can choose which I want to hear.”
“Then we’ll play mine,” he turns back as he says, “Chainsaw.”
“Unfortunately for you, you’re not the king of the bar,” I throw out casually, repeating Cash’s words. He spins on me. “Nor are you the leader of the band.”
“I’m the lead singer,” he hisses.
I hit the drum in front of me once and then shrug. “Yet, I’m not going to follow your lead. I’m tired of you making an ass of yourself and that reflecting on Bryce and me.”
“This isn’t a conversation for—”
“There is no conversation,” I interrupt. “You’ll play to my beat, or you can hold this down on your own. What will it be?”
Benson is livid. He looks at Bryce for support, but he’s watching us as if we’re riding bikes in a flat, grassy field with no hills or rocks. In other words, we’re boring him. Which is also not a way Ben likes to be looked at.
He doesn’t actually agree or disagree. He turns back to the mic and makes a snide comment about me calling the shots. In the end, I play all his songs. The songs that everyone hates, which is evident because more people leave the bar than come in.
My attention primarily stays on Cash, so I see when he leaves around eleven. At midnight, I decide I’m done, though I don’t bother to relay this message to Benson. When the song is finished, I get to my feet, clap Bryce on the shoulder as I walk by, and hand my drumsticks to Beth behind the bar.
Bryce gets the memo. He unplugs his bass, rolls the cord, unplugs the amp, and follows me out. Benson remains on the stage, staring after us in contempt.
I don’t go to the Ellis’ tonight. I’m not sure Cash wants me around. That’s the impression I got from our exchange at the bar. And I sure as fuck have no intention of hanging with Benson tonight.
So I go home.
As I step inside my house, I wonder when the last time I saw my mom was. When’s the last time I even spoke to her? Does she still live here?
Shoulders sagging, I strip off my clothes and leave them in a heap on the floor before falling into my bed. This was probably the shittiest day I’ve had in quite a while. And the one person I want to see right now… I don’t think he wants to see me.
I’m unprepared for how much that hurts.