Chapter 1 #2
“Such a fucking idiot,” he grumbles under his breath. Enzo stomps over to the bar cart. Liquid splashes against the crystal, and the tumbler is raised to his lips in a heavily scarred, shaking hand. He takes a single swallow, and it's gone.
“Take it easy on the liver, old man.”
Enzo slams the glass down, causing the bottom to shatter. “Why?” he growls. “Why would you say something so… so stupid? Are you trying to kill me? Are you trying to get me to kill you?”
At my raised brow, Enzo takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to calm down. “Okay… I need to calm down, and I need you to listen to me, Riot.”
“I am listening.”
“You’re not.” The creases around his mouth deepen, making him look decades older than he actually is. “I need you to do this community service, and I need you to do it in the next six months. Otherwise, you’re going to prison. And it won’t be a short stay.”
I walk over to the armchair and plop down. There’s no point in fighting this. I know that. “Tell me what I have to do.”
Enzo lets out a breath of relief, the crease between his brows flattening. “Like I said, it’s only six hundred hours. Twenty-five hours a week, if you use the whole six months. Plus, it’s something you’ll actually enjoy doing.”
“Which is?”
“You’ll be teaching guitar lessons at Hightide Records and—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. No.”
Enzo’s smile dies. “Riot…”
“No. I’m not doing it.” I take a deep gulp of my drink as the room spins. “I’m not going back there.”
“Where is there, exactly?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I snap. “You and I both know Hightide Records is in Saltbloom. I’m not going back there. I’m never going back there.”
“You are,” Enzo deadpans, his expression morphing into one of stone. “You have to. It’s already set up.”
“No. I’ll do anything else. Anything.”
He shakes his head. “Just… try to look on the bright side. You’ll finally get some peace and quiet—away from the cameras, away from the screaming fans, the drugs, the pressure—and most importantly, it’s a chance to put some distance between you and your horrible, soul-sucking friends.”
“Hey—”
“I’m not done,” he snaps. “This will be good for you, Riot. For fuck’s sake, when’s the last time you ate? When’s the last time you slept?”
I cross my arms. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. And I’m still not going.”
Enzo sighs. “You have until four o’clock tomorrow to come to terms with it, but you’re going whether you want to or not.”
I look out the window, my eyes tracking a small white gull as it zips between the high-rises, heading straight for the coast. Free. I used to know what that felt like.
When I refuse to say anything, Enzo releases a tired breath and walks back to the drink cart. He pours another drink.
“I’ve booked you a suite at the Extended Stay Driftwood Haven Hotel.
It’s right in the heart of Saltbloom, and just a short drive to Hightide Records.
More importantly… it’s miles away from your parents' estate.” He turns his head, his dark brown eyes swimming with sympathy—or maybe it’s pity. “You’ll never have to see it, Riot.”
“I’ll know it’s there.”
He brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. “Then try not to think about it.”
I scoff but say nothing else.
Enzo lets out that deep sigh of his. “It’ll only be for a few months. You’ll survive. Hell, maybe you’ll even be inspired and start writing again? You never know.”
I swirl my glass, unable to take my eyes off the small white dot disappearing over the pink-and-gold horizon. “What’s the point?”
“Fortune? Fame? I can keep going, but those two are usually enough for any sane person.”
“I’ve always had a few screws loose.” I shrug. “Plus, Rush was always better at that stuff. Everything I’ve tried to write alone since he… I just can’t. It's all flat. Predictable. Boring.”
Enzo pauses, the corners of his eyes crinkling with sympathy. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve always been an amazing musician. With or without Rush.”
When I don’t respond, he lets out a heavy exhale. “You can’t run away from reality forever, Riot. It’s not… this self-destructive behavior won’t bring him back—”
“Thanks for the advice.” I turn on my heel, slamming the glass onto his desk. “I hate to cut this heartfelt conversation short, but I really have to take a piss. I’ll talk to you… later, I guess.”
I make it to the doorway before his voice breaks out again, causing me to pause.
“Riot?”
My hand freezes on the doorknob. “Yes?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Deep down, I know he’s not going to say what he really wants, and I’m not sure if the rush of warmth flowing through my limbs is due to relief or anguish. But I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anyone that.
“The details for your community service and hotel stay are in your inbox. I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”
“I can drive my motorcycle. There’s no need.”
He huffs. “I’ll have the bike shipped to you. I don’t want you dying on the way there.”
Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.
“Fine. Okay.” I take one step out the door before his voice stops me again.
“Riot?”
I sigh, not bothering to turn and look at him. “Yes, Enzo?”
“It’s going to be okay. Can you trust me when I tell you that?”
My back stiffens, and I’m surprised to find my eyes welling with foreign moisture. “Sure. See you in six months.”
I leave, slamming the door behind me. Even though he says it will, I know it’s not going to be fucking okay. Because nothing is okay.
Nothing ever will be again.