Chapter Thirteen
Ryden
“Smile through the pain, smile when it rains. Smile, smile, always smiling.”
Arc & Sheild Records: ‘Rain and Sun’
Composition By: Ryden Spectre
“Get off me!”
I blinked through the hazy lights of camera clicks and strobe globes. So… so, so many people.
“Move!”
I heard her again, distant but close –close, yeah, I knew it. I knew her. It was Scarlett.
I saw her.
I called for her. Or –
Or did she call for me?
She was yelling – yelling at –
Fuck how did I get this fucked up?
Yasmine. That’s why. I followed her – Scarlett, not Yasmine –
She poured a drink on my ex-girlfriend.
Ha, ha-ha. “Dove,” I swatted her, but she paid me no mind. “Dove, you drenched Yas.”
“Not now,” she gripped my wrist, weeding through traffic. “Everyone, move!”
“Yeah! Moooo –” I tried, “Moo! Moo…”
“Shut up, Ryden!” She snapped, pinching my forearm with her nails. She loved to do that. I loved when she did that. I loved –
“Two birds will soar if nothing more…” I hummed, a piece I’ve been working on for years, swaying like a corpse as she dragged me through and through, you know, party people.
“A red little bird,” I chuckled, leaning against Scar’s neck, breathing the scent of her in. Berries and cinnamon. Like my birthday gift to her all those years ago.
“You hated cinnamon hearts,” I mused, nuzzling into her once again. “And I got you cinnamon hearts…”
“Donny!” She yelled, yanking someone large in front of me.
“Slender man!” I threw my hands over my eyes. “Who the fuck!”
“I got him, Scarlett.”
Whoa. Mr. Deep Voice didn’t come to play. “Darth Vader?” I asked. I couldn’t fucking see. I couldn’t open my fucking eyes.
Everything was tilting.
Oh… fuck. No.
I’m going to, to fucking –
Too late.
Whatever I ate for breakfast lunch and dinner was a cast of cream all over my arms, my shirt, my shoes. I felt it squish, felt the mush, felt hands all over me –
Felt –
Felt like a…
A wreck.
“Get this boy outta my room, Clara! He’s making a fucking mess!”
“No Corban, hon, he’s just looking for some paper…”
*Smack*
“Mom! Mom! No!”
“It’s fine, Ryden, I just need a minute…”
“Fucking mess, fucking wreck, fucking waste of a boy!”
“Wake up, man.” Darth Vader. “C’mon, Ryden –” hands slapping me now – “wake up.”
“Is he alive?” Someone else. Another Darth Vadar.
“Are you, Derek?” Scarlett. Yeah, Scarlett.
“Just assessing the situation.”
“Where the fuck is Morty? Where’s Dean? Mallory?” Oh, my Dove was angry.
I made her angry.
I fucked up.
I always fuck up.
“I’m sorry,” I coughed, wiping my mouth. Whatever came off my face was now plastered on the back of my hand.
And it smelled like shit.
I attempted to open my eyes, but the room – wherever the hell we were – was too bright, too intense. “Don – Der – Uh, Scar!” I called, sagging against a scratchy cushion. “Lights off, can you please?”
And just like that, I was a worm in a shoebox. Lid closed. Three pencil-sized cutouts to breathe.
My lids fluttered open.
There, sitting on a loveseat across me, were Derek and Donny, my drummer and bass player. In the corner, standing by the vending machine, was Dean, my lead guitarist. He had a cup of water. I didn’t hear him coming in.
I never hear much when my head starts to scream.
And leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, was Scarlett.
Her red hair was up in a ponytail, heels discarded to the side. They were caked with… with my uh –
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” I whispered.
Silence.
“I’m sorry Donny, Derek, Dean,” I swallowed, shaking my head, mouthing a string of apologies to anyone and everyone. The band was in this room.
My life was in this room.
There was no excuse to my behaviour. There rarely ever was. No matter what affirmation I told myself, no matter how far into the future I looked ahead, the bleakness of the past caught up to me, covering my sun with a fucking sheath of ruin.
And I stayed in the dark forever.
“You know boys,” I coughed, swaying, “my old label, before any of you, you know them, they – they took advantage of me, they sold me out to dry, and you guys – you guys came and found me. You f-f-ound me.”
A shadow stepped towards me, Dean’s shadow, handing me the paper cup of water. “Just glad you’re okay, man.”
“Can you walk?” Derek asked.
“Of course he can walk,” sneered Scarlett. “He walked this far, didn’t he?”
“Easy,” Donny levelled his hands, “let’s all just relax.”
“Are you going to go out there and mediate the press, Donny?” Scar picked up her stilettos by the stem, waving it in his face. “Because you’re going to be dealing with a hell of a lot more than ruined shoes.”
“Isn’t that your job, Scarlett?” Derek piped in.
“Shut up, Spindly.” Dean shook his head, blonde hair falling over his eyes.
Scarlett glared at Derek, who glared right back. They never got along, those two. Said he wasn’t a good influence on me, and Derek said the same.
“She’s controlling, man.” Derek.
“He’s a total junkie, Ry. An enabler.” Scarlett.
Hate to accept it, but sometimes two people just don’t vibe. I got the message loud and clear a couple years back at the Rio festival.
We all had a camper vans set up by the stage, headlining with our first big album. It was kind of mess, but it was a Jaw & Lion mess and it worked out. But Derek fumbled our last set, took a bunch of pills and destroyed the first van he saw.
It was Scarlett’s.
Puked all over her clothes, makeup, tore apart sheet music and files. He was on one, but the night before he got dumped by his long-time girlfriend Karina.
I knew what it was like to deal with heartbreak. It didn’t excuse his behaviour, but when she found out Derek had stepped on the guitar pick I’d gotten her when we were kids, broke it clean in half, she never forgave him.
I told her I could have another one made, something out of metal maybe or brass but Scarlett was sentimental about objects.
Probably because she didn’t have much growing up.
Listen, it was a fuckup, I got that. But Derek’s had my six since we formed the band, and Scarlett’s been my forever for forever.
They had to get along. For my sake. Call me selfish.
As someone who lived a life of constant change, I needed one thing to be stable – to keep me sane.
My band. My people.
My purpose.
“Look, Ryden’s been drunk before,” Derek said, “but Scarlett…” he glanced at her, “that was new.”
Everyone in the room knew what he was talking about. If I wasn’t so fucked out of my head, I would’ve addressed it first.
I don’t remember how I got to Scarlett, just that I did. I think I was on a beanbag? Someone was on top of me? Could’ve just been the weight of my fucking heart cracking a bunch because of Yasmine’s arrowed comment.
There was commotion, of the sort, somewhere, I heard it. Even before I heard Scarlett’s voice, I could sense something was wrong. Like, she hadn’t found me yet – when was she going to? Unless… unless she was occupied.
And that’s when the yelling started, people running into a general direction with their phones out hurling insults and cheers.
“Yasmine Ryvetts and Scarlett Blake are beefing!”
I shoved a bunch of people, correcting her name as I went along, “Emory-Blake, Emory-Blake,” until I found her.
Them.
Scar and Yas.
Yas and Scar.
What a fucking sentence.
“Yeah, what happened there?” Dean asked. “I didn’t see it goin’ down but, I’m sure the paps did.”
She shrugged, examining her nails. “What of it?”
“You embarrassed her,” Derek said.
I winced. Wouldn’t have been my first thought.
Scarlett simply replied, “She embarrassed herself.”
Derek rubbed his temples. “You can’t have someone like that on our bad side.”
Okay, enough. “You fucking my ex, Spindly?” I stood up, assessing if this situation was worth worrying about. No doubt Derek was loyal to me. But Yas had a way of twisting your feelings, making them impossible to digest unless she was the one feeding you.
The boys got a kick out of that one. Scarlett and I remained weary, cautious.
Like always.
Even if they love you, she once told me, in the end, people will always do what’s best for them.
I thought of my mom, as my betraying eyes lingered on one of my closest friends.
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Derek scoffed. “She’s not my fucking type.”
“You should be saying, ‘you’re my brother, Ryden,’” Scarlett rounded to my side, “I’d never do that to you.”
He softened, stepping forward. “We’re a unit man, Jaw & Lion.
We crushed the charts these last few years.
All that chick wants is our fame.” He clapped my shoulder.
“I just don’t want you making any more enemies, giving any more record labels any bad ideas.
We back you,” he squeezed, “we’re brothers. ”
I nodded, struggling to trust.
I didn’t know what that word meant anymore.
“What’d she say to you, Scarlett?” Dean asked, picking at a protein bar from the vending machine.
I looked over, taking a breath. My nose itched. “Can’t say I’m not curious either, Dove.”
She crossed her arms. “Sometimes, spoiled brats need to be treated like poor rats.”
Donny laughed, tossing her a wink. “Our girl.”
It was never addressed again. The band trekked about in conversation, talking about the flight out tomorrow, having a good bender for the week before soundcheck. Jaw & Lion would be playing at Radio City, and then the tour was over.
I turned off my brain (wasn’t hard), staring into the orbit that was Scarlett Emory-Blake.
Fuck, I wanted her to expand, knew there was more to what she told me and the guys.
Or maybe I just wanted her to face me, to hear her voice as she said my name.
I’m not disappointed in you, Ryden, I’d have her say.
But she’d never lie to me.
And I wasn’t ready to hear the truth.
“Did you talk to her, Ryden?” Dean. Dean was facing me.
“Talk to who?”
He looked at me funny. “Yasmine.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. Briefly.”
“Must’ve been one hell of a conversation,” Scarlett sniffed, unamused.
Derek asked, “She say anything noteworthy?”
I shook my head. “Same old snake tongue.”
The boys chuckled, each coming up to slap my shoulder, cheek, giving me a bump before filing out. “My man,” Dean said, leaning in low. “You sure everything’s good?”
Dean was always the realest, the oldest out of my crew, too.
When I signed with Arc & Sheild Records, Tav (my band label manager) had already signed on Dean (thirty-four), Derek (twenty-six) and Donny (twenty-nine).
All different guys, kind of up and coming minus Dean who’d been floating between indie bands for a while.
Tav said we’d have a good sound together, that we should try it out. Our different strengths would unite us.
And he was right.
We all got along like a house on fire, minus Derek and Scar. But Dean… Dean was the older brother I wish I had.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have dealt with Corban alone.
Maybe then I would’ve stood a chance.
I gripped Dean’s shirt, crunching up the fabric then grabbed him behind the neck. “On top of the world, always.”
“Well alright,” he smiled, then ruffled Scarlett’s hair. “Rest easy, flight’s at seven.”
And he was gone, leaving me with the hole in my heart, and the only person who could fill it.
I turned to her slowly. “Do I get to ask what really set you off?”
She shook her head, unscrewing the cap of her water and handing it to me.
Always silent, that dove.
“Well,” I gulped back some liquid, “I’m proud of you, nonetheless.”
She snorted. “It’s going in the papers.”
I grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. “We’ve been through worse.”
And then we simply stood in this tiny room, eyes filled with the abrasions we faced, hiding away from the world like the kids we used to be.
“We’ve been through worse,” she repeated, barely a whisper. “But we have each other.”
Only each other.
And suddenly, the Ryden Spectre who lived those horrors flashed in my mind – a different boy, a different time.
You’re all I have, Scarlett.
And that was enough.