A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 5

I was met first by Spencer's stern gaze as he was about to tell me we were going to be late, then saw it change into sympathy and concern as he apparently caught sight of my injury.

"What happened?" he inquired.

"Nothing," I answered curtly, heading for the ashtray to flick some ashes off the end of the cigarette.

"Ryan..." There was that calm warning in his voice, the silent message that we both knew there were no secrets between us. Spencer knew me better than I knew myself, I think.

"I walked into a palm tree," I finally answered. I hadn't come up with a better excuse so it would seem less conspicious to stick with the old one, right?

"Sure you did..." He paused, letting me know that he knew exactly what had happened. How was it that Spencer always knew everything? "Didn't know Brendon had palm trees for fists, though."

I ignored him, took another huff of my smoke and simply stood for a moment. "Car?" I finally asked.

He sighed, knowing that while I wasn't ready at the moment, I'd tell him the details he needed later. "We're letting it stay in the parking lot. Brent's picking us up."

I nodded and started to walk toward the door. Might as well wait by the street, right?

******

I'd ruined the band. I was sure of it by then.

We were supposed to be on in that moment, but how could we possibly go on stage without a lead singer?

Brendon hadn't shown up for sound check and nobody had been able to reach his phone.

Brent thought he was simply running incredibly late.

I'm quite sure Spencer was having the same suspicions I did.

So there we were in our stage clothes, standing just back of the stage and hoping that Brendon would, by some twist of fate, turn up for this local show we were having.

The owner of the venue walked up to us, a grave expression on his face. "I'll be able to stall for ten more minutes, boys," he told us. "If you haven't gotten a hold of that damn singer of yours by then, I'll have to cancel and you'll have to make sure I don't loose any money on this. People didn't come here to see that warm-up band." He paused, looking more or less angrily at us. "Got it?"

"Got it," Spencer answered for all of us.

The owner stalked off, radiating anger.

Then my best friend turned back to me, a serious look in his eyes. "Ryan if Brend's not coming, don't you think Brent deserves to know why we may not have a lead singer anymore?"

I sighed, looking down at my shoes with a newfound interest. When there are things I want to avoid thinking about, I think about my shoes. I think you may have noticed that.

But Spencer was right, Brent did deserve an explanation, and with that realisation I let myself slip to the floor to sit against the wall, arms resting on my guitar and still looking down. This wasn't exactly going to be the most comfortable conversation ever.

"Brendon..." I trailed off, hating that I'd have to relive all of that.

I gazed up at the clock. Nine minutes left and counting.

"What about him?" Brent asked, looking very curious and sort of concerned.

I opened my mouth to answer to explain all of it when I was interupted my the sound of running steps.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Brendon asked, looked over each of us, a look of mixed loathing, hurt and sadness in his eyes as they briefly met mine.