Chapter Thirty-Two
Ryden
“Can’t make a home, there’s nowhere to go so I
keep running, keep running...”
Arc & Sheild Records: ‘Vagabond’
Composition By: Ryden Spectre
One Month Post Radio City
“Mr. Spectre, can you tell us a little more about your mother?”
“Mr. Spectre, why is it that you’ve been drinking your life away since Radio City?”
“Mr. Spectre, is it true you were a victim of abuse?”
“Mr. Spectre –
“Alright, everyone back off now, back the hell off,” Tav was in front of me, wearing sooo many bracelets. They were rattling about. Pearls, something else. No idea.
Where was I again?
I felt the chair, fingers folding into metal grates – white, garden, tea?
OH FUCK, right.
RIGHT.
“Psst,” I psst’d Mallory. “Mal, hey.”
She looked pissed. I was pissed. Different forms.
“Mal, Mal,” I tried again.
“Mr. Spectre, I heard you.”
“Mr. Spectre, what has life been like since your tour ended?”
I held up my hand, pressing down on the off switch of my invisible remote. “Mute.”
‘This fuckin’ boy,” Tav called over the waitress. “Ma’am, I hate to say it, but we’ve got to move this meeting indoors.”
The heated greenhouse is lovely, I heard Mallory say.
One second we were outside, the next we were in a room with no natural light – there were Christmas trees, though. AND!!! No noise.
Trade off.
“What are we going to do with him?” Tav.
“Have you talked to Scarlett?” Mallory.
“Scarlett,” I breathed, fishing for my phone. “Where is she? She’s my manager, why isn’t she here?”
“Mr. Spectre, we’ve got important people coming in ten minutes,” Mallory held up my phone, “you will not be contacting anyone except the waitress for more water.”
“Scarlett’s job,” Derek muttered.
“When the fuck did you get here?” I laughed, dapping him up. No WAY. Noticing the rest of the guys at the table was a total jump scare. What the hell.
I held my glass to my lips. Definitely not water. “Yeah, anyway, Scarlett, where is she? I haven’t seen her since –”
Then it hit me, and I almost choked.
Bits and pieces over the last few weeks resurfaced, like comets hitting me in the temple.
Bang! House of Kings, booth on booth, people around me, Scarlett shaking her head.
Bang! My apartment, helping me into bed, wavering by the door. Called her over. Said something she hated.
Bang! Front seat of her Aston. Puke everywhere.
Bang! The night of Radio City. Against the wall. My lips on hers.
I… I kissed her.
I fucking kissed my best friend. My Dove. My devil with a halo. My angel with horns.
My God. “Oh fuck.” I ruined us.
I… I can’t – I didn’t want to – NO, I did, I wanted to, I was so fragile –
“I need a drink, Dean,” I spoke while I thought, viciously, all consuming, “where’s my drink?” and I couldn’t stop thinking and drinking because how could I do this to us?
How could SHE come BACK into MY life.
Dean stood up, phone in hand, holding up a finger to the table. “Where are you going, buddy?” I called, but my mind caught up before I could hear his response.
My mom…
She came back from the dead. She came back for me, right? To help me? But she… she hurt me. She left me.
I never asked her why.
I mean, was Corban still in the picture? She looked wasted away –
I was just wasted.
I needed to talk to her. “Where’s my phone?”
Someone was feeding me water, I could tell. No bite.
“Mr. Spectre, I’m going to put your glasses on.” Morty, I could recognize his voice anywhere.
“Where have you been, big guy? You’ve been so absent lately.”
He whispered something like, “It was you who didn’t notice,” but I didn’t want to believe that.
I’ve been here.
[Unaware.]
Present.
[Unstable.]
It’s fucking FINE.
“Who’s this?”
Two dudes marched up to the table, one lady.
I peered down, looked at her straight. She was pretty, brownish hair, blonde in some parts. Young, my age kind of.
How old was I?
“Why are you laughing?” Donny swatted at me.
Was I?
“Ryden, these are the founders of Arc & Sheild Records, my bosses. Your superiors,” Tav cemented that last word. Noted.
“Hey,” I shook their hands, slow-mo.
“Sit up straight,” Mallory hissed through pink lips. Ha, ha. God, she was fucking mad at me.
(I was mad at myself. Hated myself, actually. Knew what I was doing and why, and that’s why I kept doing it.)
Scarlett wouldn’t tell me to sit up straight. She’d pinch my fucking knuckles and make me bleed, and I wanted her to gut me like a fucking fish if that’s what it would take to inhale her like cocaine right now.
I missed her.
I fucked us, didn’t I?
“Mr. Spectre?” Tall, blonde guy asked me something. Shit.
“He’ll do it,” Tav answered for me.
“Do what?” I asked, no shame.
That pretty lady turned to me now, arms crossed. She did not want to be here. I didn’t either.
“Do what?” I repeated.
Pretty lady huffed, threw her hair back, and scowled. “Our duet.”