"I only have a few more questions for you."
"Wonderful," I replied, glancing about the set.
It was just another interview. Nothing had set it apart. All the questions had been by the book; who are you inspirations? Do you like your fans? If I'd answered them once, I'd done it a thousand times.
Maybe having a studio audience would have been better; I puzzled over the thought as my glance ran over the heads of those who were making the whole filming process run about smoothly. I always did better in front of an audience in these sorts of things. Countless people had written or talked about me only to say that I was an artist who was born to be on stage in front of a crowd, and maybe they were right. I was better with an audience. Without them I had a tendency to become a little bit sharp tongued, if truth be told. Well, I started to act more like the person I was off stage. She wasn't always nice.
Gritting my teeth against a yawn, I rubbed my palm wearily against the side of my head, unconsciously making my hair stick up in static. At the moment of silence I'd learnt was never a good sign in interviews I sent him a questioning look even though I remained slouching to the drastic left side of my couch.
"The Spares," he clarified.
"Ah," I responded, being specifically noncommittal. That was my strategy at the moment. I didn't know how the boys were playing it, but I was going to continue to be perfectly unhelpful in the press. The fact was that it drove people nuts, and that's what we were going for, wasn't it? I was always good at stirring up controversy. The Spares had been quite the controversial band, after all.
He considered me for a moment. And during that time I remained relaxed under the scrutiny, until I began to wonder what his name was that is.
What the hell was the dude's name?
"The Spares used to be the most exciting band in music," he stated clearly.
"We were, or so they say," I agreed, but I was barely thinking about what I was saying. I was more focused on wondering what the fuck his name was. To my knowledge I hadn't been interviewed by him before, but that wasn't exactly reliable, was it? I mean, I had huge black spots in my memory. There was an entire three week period during The Spares where we'd been in New Zealand, yet I couldn't remember shit all about it. Blame it on the alcohol.
"But they aren't anymore."
My eyebrows rose at the matter of fact words that he'd said, but my claws didn't come out, I just shrugged. It did help distract me from pondering his name, though. "No, we aren't," I replied, completely unabashed. "We're not even a band anymore."
Apparently he hadn't prepared a response to the possibility of me agreeing with him, because the interviewer – who shall remain nameless, it seems – just blinked at me before continuing. And I couldn't help but notice that his words were trying to back up his claim as if I'd disagreed with him.
"It's the live performances you've been doing that just don't have what they used to have –"
"Yeah," I snorted, interrupting him, "Our songs."
He decidedly ignored that comment. "There was a way that you guys played that was passionate and wonderful all at the same time. And there was always this tension that made each performance by the band so riveting. It didn't matter if you were getting along or not there was always tension. It felt like you could barely hold together the music you lot were playing, it was unhinged and chaotic. The chaos that The Spares used to create was the most magical part of it."
I watched him closely as he spoke, watching the honesty etched across his face that was the same with every fan who spoke fondly of The Spares. It made my mouth feel dry and my stomach drop. And I agreed with what he said, which made it all the worse. However I played it off with a smirk, leaning my head into my palm and messing up my hair.
"Creating chaos in a period of one song is a fucking art," I informed him, "That's all we have anymore. One song slots of doing cover songs. You name me a band besides The Sex Pistols or Nirvana that could create that sort of chaos on a television show."
Without so much of a blink, he replied, "The Spares. Or at least they used to."
Giving a sigh, I averted my eyes to the ceiling for a moment, saving myself from the constant examination even if it was just an illusion. "I suppose that's the way it goes with bands that can do it then," I said, although it felt like I was just mumbling to myself I forced myself to look back down and acknowledge the interviewer. "They don't survive, they implode in some way. We're not who we used to be, we're older now."
"You're only twenty-six," he pointed out.
With a rueful grin, I replied instantly, "Well, that means I only have one year left, doesn't it?"
Before he could catch onto that pathway of questioning, I found myself continuing. "But like I said, we're not that band anymore; we're older, different, smarter, though maybe not wiser. We don't really know each other either, we know the people we used to be, but we've all changed in the years we've been apart. And that's bound to come out in what we play, our emotions always have."
"That's the thing," said he, "The performances don't have the same sort of emotion that they used to have. It's tense, but there's almost a wall between you guys when you play, there's no charged energy like there used to be. It's just listless."
"I guess that's just the way we're going to be," I admitted, suddenly feeling weary as I rubbed a hand across my forehead. "I'm always going to be a Spare; I mean I am literally branded as one. But it's never going to be the way it used to be, and maybe that's a good thing. Some things should be left in the past."
"And has there been any real communication between you four?" he asked as if desperately trying to grasp onto straws.
"The only way we've ever been able to actually communicate is through music. Wait, no, that's a lie," I informed him, frowning slightly, "Jake and Will are good at talking. It's Seth and I that are terrible. But if any communication has happened, you know it as well as I do, because as always it's through the music."
"Okay, that's all the time we have for now," he announced and to his credit, he truly looked disappointed.
I suddenly wished I knew what his name was again.
However I managed to zone out of what he was saying as he focused on the camera, talking straight to the viewers who would be seeing this in the future. I gave a yawn, not bothering to attempt to stifle it this time, all the while thinking of my bed fondly. I might not have awoken at the crack of dawn, but I'd been awake until then to be sure, staring down with bleary eyes at half written lyrics for the majority of the time. And I whittle the time away as I stared at them by strumming my guitar at random, hoping dreadfully for something akin to inspiration.
Not that today had been any easier on a girl with a sleep deprived mind, although that was what I was most of the time. What with running across the entirety of New York City with a pulsing headache between a photo shoot, being in the studio with Fly Way and heading down here as far from my apartment as I could manage for the interview.
I don't think I'd felt this tired for years. And it wasn't only because the lack of sleep, it went far beyond a physical tiredness.
The only thing that broke me out of the trance I'd settled into was the dramatic movement from ahead of me. Blinking, I turned my head back and focused my mind long enough to see the interviewer standing in front of me.
Sticking a hand out for me to shake, in a voice amuck in gratitude, he told me, "Thanks so much for coming down. I know you're busy, so thank you."
What got me was how genuine he was being, it was something rare in this business. Instead of taking the hand he'd offered immediately, I stood up, noticing that we were at the same eye level. Making a point of clasping his hand tightly because I could recognize a true fan of mine from miles away even if they were trying to stay profession, I gave him the best sort of smile I could manage. "It was a pleasure," I told him honestly, a rare feat these days, patting the top of his hand with my free one.
With one last smile, I dropped his hand and turned away, instantly I found the smile dropping, though not into a frown, just into blankness. Heading straight through the small crowd of people that had been huddled behind the camera while the interview had taken place, I met the eyes of none other than my dear manager who was immersed in the throng.
Sometimes I wondered what his process was for deciding which interviews to accompany me to. I never knew when it would happen; he'd usually just be waiting in the cab for me.
Although I was making a beeline for the bag that I had abandoned in the corner of the deceptively small studio when I had been rushed forwards since I was late – as always – I saw him pushing through the crowd from the corner of my eye.
"So how did I do?" I asked him in a bored voice without a glance in his direction.
"Worked it like a pro," Mark informed me in a contemplative voice. "I sometimes forget that you are a professional and have been doing this for years. It has to have something to do with the toddler bullshit you pull."
Just rolling my eyes, I only stopped to stoop for my bag and swing it over my shoulder. Not bothering to curb my tongue, I replied in a mockingly enthusiastic voice, "Do I get an A plus for today then?"
"Whatever makes you happy," said Mark in an obviously distracted voice, barely listening to the words I'd spoken.
"It's no fun being a bitch to you if you're not going to be an ass back," I pointed out, glancing behind me for the first time. The only times Mark was nice to me was when something was about to happen that we both knew I wouldn't like. It made me nervous when he was nice to me, even if just for a sentence.
"You've got a visitor," he told me, this time ignoring my words completely. "He's waiting in the hallway for you."
My eyebrows shot up. A visitor?
Instead of replying, I just sent Mark a curt nod before leaving him behind to head to the doors. My thoughts were in a whirl, though, wondering who this visitor could be.
First things first, the visitor was obviously of the male gender. That didn't help me too much; I didn't seem to speak to many women anymore. But if they didn't want to go into the studio, it at least told me they were famous and hadn't wanted to be dragged into the interview with their presence.
Only two possibilities occurred to me. And the first made my mouth go dry.
Wishing desperately for the second option, I shoved the door open with my shoulder. Please be Nick, please be Nick, I chanted desperately in my head. However I kept seeing an image of a different man in a leather jacket and messy hair in my mind's eye. I would have liked to shove him out, but it was never that easy.
However when I stepped into the hallway, I had one moment of shock and then my shoulders dropped in relief.
Apparently I wasn't very good at guess work, although the person was male and famous.
At the sight of his extremely tall frame as he leaned idly against the wall in wait, I found a half hearted grin come onto my mouth. "Fancy seeing you here," I said in greeting, letting the door shut behind me before I moved closer to William.
Not bothering with pleasantries, Will gave a shrug, stepping away from the wall. "That was quite the honest end to an interview."
In turn, I shrugged as well, fiddling absently with the strap of my bag. "Ninety percent of the time I'm honest in interviews, people usually just don't believe me," I returned before walking past him. Instantly William fell into step without missing a beat. "So you were actually in the room during the interview, not hiding in the hall?"
With that big grin that I always associated with him, Will nodded easily. "I hid like a coward in the doorway, everyone there except your manager was too focused on you to notice little old me."
"Typical," I muttered, running a hand through my messy hair. In a stronger voice, I asked, "So what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to steal you away to go have a beer," Will said, and I heard the invitation in his voice.
My thoughts snapped back to the image of my bed, imagining simply sleeping in it with Nick tonight. However I made the mistake of glancing to my side to see Will looking at me with that hopeful expression that had been the one that cause Jake, Seth and I to think of him as the baby of the group, even though he was just a year younger than me. Even after years apart the look hadn't lost any of its potency. It was extremely difficult to say no to him.
Feeling all the conviction of just going home to my bed seeping away, I bit the edge of my lip lightly. I probably wouldn't be going to my bed anyways, I rationalized, I'd end up falling asleep in the music room like I did five nights out of the week.
"One beer?" I asked him weakly.
"Maybe two," he considered, his mouth breaking into another grin when he realized he'd won. I was surprised Will even doubted his ability to get me to do anything for him, although the last year we'd known each other was enough to doubt every part of our relationship. "Anyways I hear we need some communication."
Shaking my head ever so slightly, I pushed the door open to the chilly air outside, holding onto the door for a moment for Will to pass through. "You know I wasn't talking about us," I returned, "We were never bad at talking."
"Of course we were," Will shot back, "You're horrible at it."
"Thanks," I retorted sardonically.
One good thing about doing a prerecord of a show with no audience was that the paparazzi weren't always clued up, and the mobs of fans weren't either, as much as I loved them I was too tired to deal with them tonight. So as we walked out on the sidewalk, being two very recognizable figures, the most we got was second glances as people were shocked to see the two of us walking down the street. And before they came out of their shock and wondering if it was really us, we were already walking away from them.
"So where were you thinking of going?" I questioned, breaking the silence that stretched between us even on the loud street. The chatter, honking of engines were what made sure New York City was never quiet.
"There's one just down the street," he said, heading in the direction of whichever place he had in mind.
With a shake of my head, I fixed my bag over my shoulder, before lengthening my stride as much as I could to keep up with him. "You know, for someone who hasn't been to New York for years, you have a pretty good map in your of the pubs around," I observed casually.
Fixing me with a look, Will just shook his head. "You really think I didn't come here since The Spares?"
"Well, yeah," I answered, the confusion falling into my voice.
Shaking his head almost pityingly, he kept moving forwards towards the pub. "I did have to tour here, and I still have my apartment."
That blindsided me, I even blinked in confusion. I hadn't been expecting that. I thought I'd been the only one to stay in New York after the band split. Wouldn't I have heard about Will living around here?
Hurrying my step that had faltered, I caught up with him, staring at him in amazement. "You lived here?"
"No," he shook his head, "I lived pretty much full time in LA once we broke up, but I didn't sell my apartment. I don't know, I could still afford it and this was home for me. I think you forget that sometimes, Keely."
"Forget what?" I asked blankly.
Will just dipped his hands in his pockets, answering, "That this is home, for all of us, not just you. We all came from around the country, Jake came from across the world, but this is the only place that's ever been a home for all of us."
Swallowing the sudden baseball sized lump in my throat, I looked away from Will to the grimy pavement we were walking down, unable to meet his eyes. He was right, I did forget that. I forgot that this was the first place Seth had lived and hadn't been haunted with his past, that Will had escaped his household and moved up here with his first band and that Jake had found a real home since he'd left his family. I wasn't the only one that had made this place my home over the years.
Even as the thoughts were running through my head at the whirlwind speed everything seemed to go at these days, I knew I wouldn't want to admit that to anyone. Not even to Will. Maybe it was a leftover defense mechanism from the last days of The Spares, the never admit you're wrong. And that was another thought that I wouldn't want anyone to know, but both had my gaze lowering further in guilt.
No words came to mind in response to what he'd said, nothing to shift away from the subject. However I was thankfully saved from that awkward exchange when I saw William pull up to a stop from the corner of my eye, or rather I saw his feet stop.
Glancing up, just in time I caught the image of him pulling open the door to some pub, the chatter spilled out of it with a whiff of beer and laughter, and my ears instantly focused on the clear sound of an album being played, recognizing Guns Of Brixton from The Clash easily. With the grin that always made him look so boyish, Will gestured me ahead of him with his free arm, saying cheekily in an accent I was suspicious was supposed to mock Jakes, "After you, milady."
Although I shook my head, the returning grin was pressing on my mouth and I slipped in past him.
The pub was nothing too out of the ordinary for what I'd been used to going to with the boys; it was probably a lot nicer though. And to be honest, it was a lot cleaner than the places we used to habit. Just an open room, tables, rock music playing, a long bar and an area where people who had obviously had too much to drink had pushed the tables out of the way to create a makeshift dance floor where they spun and laughed like lunatics. And as I watched them for a moment, I didn't bother to try and hide my grin anymore.
Maybe I missed places like this more than I'd realized.
Glancing to my side when I felt an arm pressing against mine, I looked upwards to look at Will. Instantly, I asked, "The bar?" However it was to my shock when we spoke the words in unison, looking at one another questioningly.
The two of us letting out loud laughs, we nodded, heading straight for a space along the bar. There were few places empty, it appeared this was a popular sort of place, casual enough to hang out but fun enough to dance about.
William and I were just squeezing into a spot together, both unperturbed that we had no personal space and were pressed close together, when the song switched from The Clash.
The bartender came up, but I allowed Will to order the drinks as I turned about, leaning my back against the bar and ignoring the stool straight to my side for the time being. I found my eyes being drawn back to the tiny dance floor, but found myself focused on a couple that had bothered to break apart as the last song ended, even as Shattered by The Rolling Stones came on, they were too focused on one another.
I only broke my gaze when there was a shove at my elbow.
With raised eyebrows I looked over to Will, only to find myself giving a scowl at what I saw him holding out to me. "I thought you said just a beer or two," I pointed out, refusing to take the shot that he was holding out to me.
"Oh, c'mon, Keel," he complained, pushing it closer so it was right in front of my face and almost touching my nose. "It's tradition."
Rolling my eyes, I hesitated before taking it, knowing two things were certainly true. It was tradition and he wouldn't let me get away without drinking it. Tapping it against his in a little toast, I threw back the shot, grimacing as always as I did so. Now that was definitely just a shot of straight whiskey.
"You should be a better drinker now," Will mused, this time handing me a pint.
Making a face, I clunked the shooter on the bar before taking the pint, now pushing up on the bar stool so I could brace my elbows against it. "What do you mean I should be a better drinker? I'm a champion heavy weight drinker. If there's one thing I'm brilliant at besides music it's drinking."
"And yet you can't take a shot without looking like its medicine," he observed. As he didn't have a stool by his side, he just leaned against the bar right between me and the stranger on the stool beside him.
All the while I was making a point of ignoring the sidelong glances we were getting.
"Well, if you think about it, I am taking poison so I'm allowed to make a face," I pointed out reasonably.
Grinning broadly at my words, Will took a long drink from his pint. But when he placed it back down on the bar, the expression had become a reminiscent smile instead. "I can't here this song without thinking about that time with Jake."
Swallowing a gulp of the drink, I frowned in confusion, asking, "What time with Jake?"
"We were in... ah, Texas, I think? I don't know. But I remember we were at this bar, this song was playing and a girl wanted us to sign her tits, and Jake was the first one up and we were all going to follow –"
"Until her three hundred pound boyfriend came out of nowhere," I interrupted, laughter cracking up in my voice as I remembered the scene. "I remember that! You dragged me out of there and we left Seth and Jake to deal with it. I remember Seth just sighing as we took off and Jake look terrified."
Will had burst out laughing at the memory as well, reminding me, "We're never allowed to go to that bar again."
"That guy probably isn't the bouncer anymore," I felt the need to point that out, but I was still giggling as I ran a hand through my hair.
Interrupting our laughter was my cell phone ringing, although I couldn't hear it over the music, but I could feel the vibration in the pocket of my jeans. Figuring that it'd just be Nick wondering where I was, I didn't bother to glance at the screen as I pulled it out of my pocket, answered it and put it to my ear.
"Hello?" I greeted in a question, hilarity still colouring my voice.
"I didn't know you were capable of laughter."
If I had less self control I might have spat up the gulp of beer I'd taken before I heard the voice. I believe that was what happened when most people heard the voice that belonged to the antichrist.
As it happened I swallowed so quick and harshly that I felt it rip down my throat. I even felt the blood racing away from my face as it paled despite the warmth of the bar I was sitting inside. That was all it took to make me feel isolated again, like a whisper of doubt running down your spine, everything came slamming back into me at once. And there I was, I forgot about The Rolling Stones, the dancing couples so in love they couldn't take their eyes of each other and my boyfriend waiting at home, I even forget about Will who was standing close enough that I should've been able to feel his body heat. I was in that bubble that it was so easy for me to descend into.
Closing my eyes, I willed myself to keep my voice steady, attempting to immerse myself in the environment. I would only lose all of my control if I was cut off right now. "And I wonder when your species became capable of speech," I said bitingly.
"We need to talk, Keely."
"Ah, but don't you know I'm shit at that, Jordan?" I asked rhetorically. "It's well documented."
At the name coming from my mouth, I felt a jerk from beside me, forcing me to successfully look over to Will. He was staring down at me, a questioning look overcoming every feature of his face. In response I gave a shrug.
Jordan's voice was as slick and smooth as ever when he replied. It made me want to quiver in disgust, but I held back the urge even though he couldn't see me. "Actually, I need to talk to all four of you. Now," he demanded.
"Oh, but don't you remember that you don't have any control over us anymore?" I asked in a sing song voice.
I wanted to cuss him out for trying to order not only me, but the rest of my old band around, a protective sensation firing up from nowhere. However I held back the urge, flashes from the last conversation I'd had with him coming to light. There was no way I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing he could get under my skin any time he felt like it, I was going to remain calm and aloof.
For someone like him a lack of power was infuriating, it would be far more damaging than any shout or swearing I could do.
Yet even as I thought about the tactic, I felt the tiny bit of control I had over my own mouth dwindling away. I was bad at holding myself back, I was an angry and passionate person, and this was more difficult then I could say.
Suddenly though, I felt a hand on my arm.
With an inaudible sigh, I closed my eyes, grasping onto that control as tightly as I could and gathering it about. I didn't need to look to my side to see the person who was holding my arm, of course it was William, and instead I just stared at the pint of beer in front of me.
"If I'm going to be served by some fucking lawyer, I expect to have a meeting with the ones suing me," he said in a seething voice.
I felt a smirk come onto my lips. Who's in control this time? The thought was smug as it crossed my mind. I could only imagine that our lawyer had just got through to filing the lawsuit if the anger was so fresh in Jordan's voice. "Jeez, watch the language, sweetheart," I told him in a sugary sweet voice, made specifically to piss him off further. "If you want a meeting, you're going to have to take a number; I have more important things going on."
"Don't screw with me, Staub," he snapped, using that demanding voice again. However even I could tell he was just putting it on as a defense mechanism, because we both knew he had no right to order me around. "I want you four at UAE."
Pretending to put on a bored voice although I felt like trembling, I replied, "I can't do tomorrow. But I could pencil you in for Thursday, maybe."
"This lawsuit is a fucking joke, I hope you know that," he told me in a softer voice, this one much more dangerous than his challenging one from before. "There's no chance in hell of you winning it."
My voice wanted to shake, but I held it even as I stared solidly at my pint. "Then why are you scared?"
"Scared? Of what, losing a couple million for the astronomical amount we'll get for the song catalog?" Jordan laughed. "But I will enjoy watching all four of you ruining your careers and yourselves over it. I'll see you on Thursday."
When the call ended with a click, I dropped the phone carelessly from my limp fingers, letting it clatter onto the bar.
And with that, I lost all the pretence I had managed to make of self control as I began to shake. That façade of bravado falling away the moment the phone call had ended. Dropping my head into my hands, that snarky and strong voice was replaced by trembling tired one as I mumbled, "Fuck."
"Where are you going again?"
It almost surprised me that the voice belonged to Ben instead of Nick, but then I gave an almost indiscernible shake of the head. That shouldn't surprise me. Nick was the most understanding of people and Ben had been more or less distrustful of me lately.
I didn't bother to glance up at his question, just continued packing my stuff away by snapping shut my notebook and stuffing it into my bag.
Breezily, I answered, "I've got to see a man about a dog."
"That's not an answer."
Well, no shit, Sherlock. Resisting the great temptation to roll my eyes, I took my time as I made a show of zipping up my side bag.
Yet before I had the chance to reply – which I was fully unwilling to do until I had nothing more to distract me – another voice piped up. "Dude, ease off," Nick told off his best friend, "You're not a cop."
That successfully gained my attention, and my eyes snapped over to Nick. Up to that point, he'd been quietly sitting in the corner of the control room with Jackson, pouring over the lyrics that he and Ben had written and discussing in hushed voices what needed to be changed and sharpened about the words. Not so hushed anymore though.
There was a warning look gracing his face as he looked to his best friend, and Ben stared back blankly.
However Nick broke the look only to meet my eyes, sending me a smile that was as comforting as a hug from even this distance.
It made me want to be sick.
I held back that urge, though, only to send him a smile in return though I felt my stomach sinking to my toes in guilt. He thought he knew where I was going, but I hadn't been exactly liberal with the truth. "It's okay," I assured Nick.
The last thing I wanted as his girlfriend was for him to fight with his best friend. And the last thing I needed as a producer was for him to fight with his lead guitarist.
Hooking my bag over my shoulder, I turned my gaze back to Ben who had the look of a young boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I've got to go see a man about a lawsuit, well men, if you want to be specific," I told him, keeping an honest tone of voice even if I was omitting a large part of the truth.
I was leading them to believe that I was just having a meeting about the lawsuit, which in fact was the truth. But that didn't mean I wasn't lying to them. It wasn't just a meeting, I knew that well enough. I was going back to UAE, and not exactly in triumphant fashion. There wasn't any returning as a long lost friend as I would be if it was Maureen there, no, at the moment I was heading straight into enemy territory.
A part of me was quite sure that it wasn't the norm to head over and have a meeting at the headquarters of the business you were suing. Yet this wasn't exactly the normal sort of lawsuit, was it?
"Oh," answered Ben, if a bit lamely.
"Yeah," I answered shortly. "Okay, guys, work on that song some more. I think you should focus more on the music, I think it needs tightening, don't try to make it fancier, try to simplify. Simplifying is key, alright?"
They all nodded meekly at my orders, having already heard me say this not long before in my nervousness of leaving them alone in the studio. However I noted the almost annoyed look on Ben's face, though I didn't bother responding to it as I left the studio. My thoughts remained on it, seeing the look of a man trying very hard not to roll his eyes at an order. Insolence would be a word to describe it.
That's why you don't produce people you are friends with, I thought as I shoved through the door. They don't take orders so well and don't hold your opinions in the same regard. I suppose that's the same reason they say don't go into business with family.
That could have been the reason it was so hard for a band like The Spares to survive through making albums with Seth and I producing it. At points it had seem like the perfect match, the only option that made sense, we worked well together and respected one another. That was until we had a disagreement over a song or even so much as a groove, then it was World War Three in the Spares camp. Even just writing songs together the tension and jealousy sometimes one over everything else.
Shaking my head, I reminded myself that there was no way a band like The Spares could have stayed together. There was too much tension and passion all wrapped in one; relationships and deep set issues routed in distrust, jealousy and fear. It had always had the potential from disaster; I'd just refused to acknowledge it even though I'd known the truth from the beginning. It had always been a bomb that could go off at any moment from the right amount of pressure. Actually, it was a time bomb, because a part of us had always known that it would blow up in our faces eventually, we just hadn't known when.
As had become my habit of late, I opted to exit through the side door of the studio. On and off the paparazzi haunted the front doors like a plague, at least exiting from the side gave me time to peek around the corner and get my wits about me. I was so caught up in my own thoughts, that I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking with my eyes on the ground until the sound of bickering reached my ears.
"But I called shotgun!"
It was a whiney voice that met my ears, and I almost had to suppress a smile at Will's tone as I looked up.
I looked up just in time to hear an annoyed sounding Seth replying, "I'm driving, you dick."
With raised eyebrows, I took in the scene in front of me, remaining unnoticed even as the door shut behind me. Seth was positioned beside the hood of his silver rental car, his arms crossed over his chest while Will was standing opposite of him, his hands on the open passenger side door that separated them.
Actually, I didn't go unnoticed, but I only caught sight of a blurry Jake sending me a wave from the back seat of the car. I could only assume that they'd been parked there bickering for a time because the windows were fogging inside the car.
"I'm too tall!" Will piped up loudly, "I can't fit back there, there's like an inch of room."
"You can fit, it'll just be like a clown car," Seth returned without missing a beat. "My car, my decision, you can sit in the back seat."
Although Will looked mutinous, any reply he could have thought off was cut short when Jake exclaimed exasperated, "Guys!"
"What?!" snapped Seth and Will in unison, looking down inside the car.
Poking his head out from behind the seat so I could see it just behind Will, Jake just shook his head and pointed a finger up at where I was waiting. I was almost disappointed that he'd taken charge to tell them I was there, watching them bicker had reminded me of the days when our arguments had been tiny and more good natured, opposed to the way they would start out tiny and then become full blown fights by the end.
"Keely!" cried out Will, his shoulders slumping in relief as if he'd found a kindred spirit. "You'll sit in the back with Jake, right?"
In response Seth just rolled his eyes, but he kept silent.
For a moment I pondered it. "Nope," I decided, shaking my head. "I want the front seat."
"Hey!" Will complained in response, obviously not anticipating me refusing him.
"Okay, let's go then," announced Seth. With a smug grin to Will who only scowled in response, he sent a glance up to me but I pointedly averted my eyes as I hopped down the steps before he edged around the hood to the driver's side.
Waiting patiently behind Will as he pushed forwards the passenger's seat and clambered into the back, Jake shuffling over to the other side of the car without complaint. All the while there was rebellious grumbling on William's part, though, and I was sure that he referred to Seth with more than a few colourful words.
Shoving back the seat with a smooth click, I dropped down, still hearing Will's mutterings from behind me. Pointedly meeting Jake's eyes with a glance over my shoulder, I noticed he was just suppressing a grin even as he shook his head.
"You could always walk if you want," I informed Will.
That earned me a knee to the back of my seat.
The drive to UAE Records started off alright. I wasn't exactly relaxed, I didn't think I could be when Seth's hand was only inches from my knee where it rested on the gear shift. However I was being successfully distracted by William and Jake in the back seat, though Seth kept suspiciously quiet, and the CD that was playing at a low volume in the car.
However it wasn't long until the voices died down, all losing themselves to their own thoughts as we edged closer to UAE and Jordan.
With my heart beginning to pump a lot louder and quicker than it should, I pressed my head against the window, watching the city that had been doused in drizzle this morning whiz past. It felt wrong to go to UAE with this sort of mood hanging as a pall over our heads. At least I had never felt this way about going into the studio, I was always excited or treating like any other day, maybe even hungover, but never foreboding.
Even that last fateful trip I hadn't felt like this. I'd wanted so desperately to find Seth there, to tell him that I needed him to stay with me. I had wanted to tell both Jake and Will that I loved them, and no matter what happened with the band they were still family. As fate would have it, none of those things had happened that day.
UAE Records had seen the best days of my life, from my first solo album to telling Maureen The Spares would happen whether she liked it or not. But it had also seen one of the blackest days of my life as well.
I couldn't help but wonder if the rest of them had similar thoughts in their heads, but there was not a sound besides Jeff Buckley's Morning Theft in the car and I didn't break the silence either.
The rest of the drive just say my psyche getting consistently worse.
My heart was pounding far too fast as my mind whirled about all sorts of scenarios of what could happened. The idea of going back there, even if it had been a happy visit with Maureen, was enough to make me nauseous and with the impending meeting, I felt like I might vomit at any moment, and the traffic wasn't helping.
There was no way to stop the memories from flooding in, but I closed my eyes to keep myself from slipping back into the past. Yet I couldn't stop the images of signing that paper to officially dissolve a band that had truly been over – though we hadn't accepted it – for a long time before. I could see Will leaning down with the pen in his hand while Jake stared at the window blankly. The emotions were as raw as ever; betrayal and the deepest of melancholy since the anger hadn't set in yet.
I guess it was time to accept that those wounds had never truly healed.
By the time that Seth squeezed the car into the alley beside UAE Records that was familiar as an old friend, the brick walls so close on either side that you couldn't open the doors all the way, I had myself worked into such a state I was surprised I was still able to breathe, even if it was coming out in short gasps. It felt like I was short circuiting, my breathing rapid, heart rate flying, hands trembling and my face felt numb without any heat.
A part of me was thankful for the little isolation that the alley gave us, because I was sure the paps would be informed of our presence soon and would come in swarms. However I couldn't acknowledge that bit of me now, instead I dropped my head into my hands.
There was no way I could do this. What had I been thinking?
With the engine shut off and the CD silenced, there was a long moment of silence that I could only hear the pounding of my heart and the shortness of breath. I wondered if the boys could hear it too.
"Okay," said Seth in for once an unsure voice, speaking for the first time since we'd sat in the car. "We should get going."
Not looking up from my trembling hands, I mumbled in a broken sort of honesty, "I can't do this."
Another moment of silence passed after my words.
However it was broken this time from a sigh to my left.
"Just meet us out front, alright?" said Seth in a quiet voice.
I didn't move when I heard the door open on Seth's side. Nor did I when I heard the muffled cursing from Will as he tried to get his long body out of the back of the sports car that really was the tightest of squeezes for someone as tall as he. Not even when the door shut and I was suddenly left alone in the car, I didn't need to see it to know it was true. It was devoid of any other humans now.
And yet I remained holding my face in my hands, almost curled into my lap in the passenger's seat. Darkness was comforting at the moment.
I didn't even lift my head when the passenger side door swung open.
"Hey," said Seth's voice softly.
Yet I again I refused to move, just stayed in my trembling hands.
This time he didn't accept that though, and I felt his hands on my knees, pulling me around so they were out of the car and I was facing him. The shock at the sudden contact was enough for me to look up, the heat searing straight through my jeans, but he didn't move his hands from where they rested.
Holding back the tears that wanted to escape, I folded my lips as I dropped my hands to my lap, finally looking up at him. He was crouched outside the door, his hands resting on my knees, squeezed into the tiny amount of space that the alley allowed the doors to open. And even in my state, I couldn't help but want to brush away the dark hair that matched his jacket away from his forehead so I could see his eyes better. They weren't as golden as they were when he used to look at me, but they were still more comforting than anything else I could think of at this moment. Now they were darker, but the look of concern was familiar.
"I can't do it," I mumbled pathetically, running a shaking hand over my forehead.
With the tiniest amount of a grin that barely turned up the corner of his mouth, Seth informed me still in a low voice. "Yes, you can. I know it's not easy, none of us want to be here, but we're all here together, okay?"
Not thinking about how deeply cutting my words could be, I replied, "It's not the same for you, Seth. You weren't here the last time. Watching that lawyer draw out the forms, having to sign something like The Spares away like it was some meaningless shit. And just like that it was all gone. That was one of the worst moments I can remember."
The tears had welled up into my eyes as I spoke, just begging to fall.
Before I could lift my hand to get rid of them, suddenly feeling embarrassed as I stared down at my knees, Seth beat me to it, his hands reaching away from my knees where he thumbed away my tears. Unable to stop myself, I looked up to where he was in front of me, staring at him.
Instead of dropping his hands like I would have expected in a moment like this, he cupped my cheeks with his hands. The pressure was so familiar even though it had been years, the guitar callouses that roughened his hands, but the steady feel of them. I wanted nothing more than to sigh and lean into it. It took all of my will to keep my eyes open and continue to stare down into his gaze.
With the saddest of smiles, he searched my face before saying, "Remember, I don't shine if you don't shine."
Feeling the tears wanting to fall again, this time I did close my eyes but I still refused to lean into the pressure as I pressed my lips together in a hard line, trying to gain any composure that I doubted I still had.
I did remember that, of course I did. The first time we'd played that song was when I'd been supporting NSR as a solo act. It had been in the days when it had been so exciting to play a song together that I'd go on stage with his band once every show so we could play a song. I was nostalgic for a time like that. A time when the thought of playing music with him had been something that I wanted to do more than anything else, instead of the way it was now where it terrified me.
But the truth of the matter was those days were long gone.
With a more even voice than before, I opened my eyes and refused to let a tear fall as I said flatly, "That was a long time ago."
Reaching my hands up to his, I placed mine on top of his. However I didn't hold onto his hands for support, I just gripped them and pulled them away from my face. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"
Not replying to my words, Seth straightened so I could get out of the car.
Slamming the door shut behind me, I wrapped my arms around my stomach, passing by where he'd been lingering at the trunk of his car. He didn't immediately follow me, but I didn't dare look over my shoulder. No, I just kept walking until I rounded the corner to the old street where Will and Jake were standing together in silence.
It was with a frown Jake asked, "Where's Seth?"
Noticing that Will was looking at me closely, a frown puckering between his brows as if he was trying to solve some sort of mystery, I ran a hand over my face as I shrugged in response to Jake's question. The last thing I needed was to walk into there looking like I'd just been crying. I couldn't be showing any weakness to Jordan, not now.
Quickly, I rubbed my hands briskly over my face, hoping to get rid of any trace of tears that might remain.
I wasn't given long before a voice spoke from so close behind me that I jumped.
"You guys ready?" Seth questioned, sounding composed as ever.
If only I was as good at hiding my emotions as he was no one would doubt that I was a perfectly happy musician. No one would know about any of the issues I had that seemed to be public knowledge these days.
Sending an extra long glance in my direction, Will was the one that nodded and answered for the rest of us, "Might as well get it over with."
Walking into the studio, I was thankful for the fact Seth took up the lead with Jake in behind him, letting me be positioned in between he and Will.
I didn't need to look to know where I was walking, I didn't think I'd forget the floor plan of this place for a thousand years. I'd walked these steps, wandering the halls, sat in the plush chairs more times than I could count. I'd spent uncountable hours in this place when producing albums with Seth or just coming in to show Maureen the work that The Spares had done in our personal recording warehouse.
We walked straight up to the front desk where Tami was sitting behind as usual, and we didn't even need to say a word when she noticed us. She jumped up and gestured for the four of us to follow her. Staring at her wordlessly, I couldn't help but notice she looked much older than I remembered her. She used to be a kindly woman who I'd sit and talk to if I was waiting around, almost grandmotherly with her steel grey hair and smile. And now I could stare her down without even a flicker of emotion.
Oh, what a person I'd become.
Breaking my train of thought was a squeeze on my arm, and in my surprise I glanced around to see Will. Forcing a turn of my lips, I looked forwards again, following a step later behind Jake as we walked away from the common area and in the opposite direction of the studios only to where the conference rooms were waiting. And as we walked we gained stars from and reps from artists, and I couldn't help but marvel that I knew so few of the people here any longer. I wanted to shake my head, but I was frozen in position as I walked. It was as if unconsciously I had been sure that nothing would have changed even over the years.
"Jordan will be here soon," Tami said, gesturing for us to go inside a conference room.
It wasn't any conference room, though.
Feeling the anger that I'd been devoid of come rushing to the surface in a boiling mass, I stared at the windows that lead into the conference room where we'd signed The Spares' contract away. I had no doubt that Jordan knew what he was doing when he decided on this room, the guilty look on Tami's face as her eyes met mine fleetingly was enough to tell me so before she fled.
Abruptly I wanted nothing more than to start a fight.
Squaring my shoulders, I stalked into the conference room, my hands in fists at my sides.
As it happened, Jordan wasn't there soon and I was sure that was how he'd planned it. Keep us waiting in this room with all the ghosts from memories circling around us to get us worked up, have us wondering what he was up to and creating much scarier scenarios in our heads than what was actually going to happen. I had no doubt that it was his tactic. And then he'd waltz in with some threatening words and hope to scare us into dropping the lawsuit, because whatever he said it was going to be a pain for UAE. Even if the money would be worth it in the end, it was going to keep the rights for The Spares' music tied up in red tape in a way that he hadn't been anticipating.
His tactic had backfired on him, though, because instead of making me scared, I continued boiling with anger and pacing back in forth with a furious energy. None of us were speaking, but that was okay.
Where I was pacing back and forth, creating scenarios in my head where I could punch Jordan in the face without being charged with assault, Jake was sitting at the table, his chin on the arms he had resting there, his eyes open and staring. Will too was sitting there, though he was opposite from Jake and was staring up at the ceiling while Seth stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, alternating between staring out the window and watching me pace back and forth.
It was an hour and a half before Jordan walked in the room.
I stopped pacing when the door had opened and was staring daggers at him as he shut the door behind him. At the sight of him I wanted nothing more than to gag. His jet black hair was jelled back and he was wearing a three piece suit, but his eyes were as calculating as ever as they swept over the room, catching us all the hollow dark eyes at one point or another. He looked more like a corporate shark than almost anyone I had ever met.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Jordan announced in such a false graciousness that I'm surprised it didn't hurt him, the nasally sound of his voice ringing out clearly in the room. Fuck, I hated him so much. "I had some matters to clear up with my lawyer."
Not bothering to move an inch whereas both Jake and Will had straightened, Seth stared him down without a flicker. This was one of those times that I was thankful he was so adept at hiding his feelings. "Bullshit," Seth announced without preamble.
There was the way his eyes flickered to Seth that had me smiling smugly. I bet he didn't forget that broken nose, even if it had been eight years ago. There was a reason that Jordan hadn't been near us in all of our years at UAE after that, and it hadn't been because Seth was respecting his distance. While I would have liked to hold that power over Jordan myself, the fact he was at least a bit scared of Seth was enough for me.
Pretending like he didn't care, Jordan strolled over to the table with a sigh, placing files down upon it. "Let's not get off to the wrong foot."
Now that had me breaking my silence.
"Fuck that," I snapped, getting his eyes on me.
He reminded me of a snake when they narrowed, but he kept his voice pleasant. "Language."
Crossing my arms over my chest, I walked forwards so I was at the end of the table, but it was Will who spoke up. His body language was lazy as ever, but I noticed his hand was tapping on his thigh. There was his tell tale sign of nerves. "You've kept us waiting, so this is how it's going to go, Jordan," he said in a pleasant voice that neither Seth nor I had accomplished.
Now it was Jake's turn, picking up the ball without hesitation. It was as if we'd practiced our lines. "You're going to tell us whatever the fuck it is you want to threaten us with," Jake told him in a voice that held the promise of a threat as well. "And we're going to tell you to take it shove it up your arse."
"Fine," Jordan said harshly, placing his hands down the table. "You want to get it over with? You go through with this, you'll all be bankrupt by the time it ends. Careers ruined over some fucking pathetic urge to hold onto worthless music none of you give a shit about. There's no way you win a lawsuit, and I'm telling you to back off now before I file enough countersuits you won't be able to see out of the hole you've dug yourselves."
As he spoke that boiling anger that had been rising to a dangerous level since the moment I'd seen this room was overflowing from me now, and I found myself stalking around the table to where he was standing. I caught a warning look that Jake sent me, but I disregarded it.
"You have no right to be doing any of this," I said in a severely low voice, ringing with a menace.
He rolled his eyes, and I found myself clenching my jaw in anger, clenching my fists inside the pockets of my flannel shirt. "Stop the stupid selfless musician act, Keely," he advised, "No one's buying it anymore. You're suing the only record label that took a chance on you, any respect people once had for you is gone."
This time I didn't bother to stop myself.
In a fashion that Seth had taught me years ago to hold my hand during a punch so I wouldn't hurt my hand or wrist, I threw the punch without a thought.
Although the pain immediately shot up my arm when my fist had met the bone of his cheek, I refused to cry out and instead watched him with steady eyes as he fell back a step. The fury in his eyes as he raised a hand to his cheek should have been enough to have me stepping back as well, but I remained still. And the sound of chairs being pushed out and people scrambling to their feet was enough for me to be sure of reinforcements behind me.
"Sue me," I advised in a spitting voice before shoving past him.
"He should do well," said Will, but there was a laugh in his voice, "Three witnesses saying it was self-defense and all."
At the door, I glanced behind me to see Will already edging around the table to follow me while Jake gave Jordan the brightest of grins. Seth on the other hand was only a few steps behind me, ready to walk out as well.
Blowing a kiss to Jordan with all the sass that I could muster through my anger, I threw the door open and stalked outside.
I didn't bother to meet anyone's eyes, I didn't even look behind me or pause for a second as I walked out. There was no doubt in my mind that the three of them would be behind me, there was nothing more to say than what had already been said. And all that guilt that I had felt regarding suing UAE had melted away.
However I did stop in my tracks when I was out the front doors, but it was because of what I saw standing down at the road.
Leaning against his dark green car was none other than Nick. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap, but I didn't notice that. Even under the shadow it created, I could see the worried look he was wearing as he waited there anxiously.
Letting out all that anger and fear in a sigh, I felt my shoulders sag as I looked down at him.
There was nothing more I needed than Nick at the moment. He'd at least keep me grounded before I could go off and do anything more that I would regret. And the smile that I would have thought impossible moments before was spreading across my face while I hurried down across to him. He was always here, wasn't he? If anyone was a rock to keep my sanity grounded, it was Nicholas.
Throwing my arms tightly around him, I breathed in deeply the cologne that tinged every area of our apartment.
Before he could even respond to the pressure, I was pulling back to look at him in the eyes. Wondering aloud, I asked, "How did you –"
Tucking a stray red curl behind my ear, Nick sent me a smile before nodding to something behind us. "He called me."
At his words, I yanked away from the embrace, not noticing the flicker of emotion across his face as I looked to who he was nodding to. And of course it was him.
Without even looking at the two of us, Seth was heading in the opposite direction, apparently having no idea that my eyes were glued onto the back of his leather jacket clad figure. As he walked towards the alley where he'd parked his car, I watched while he ran a hand through his messy hair, getting lost into a memory from so long ago.
Although my fingers were trembling, I picked up Seth's hand, holding it up to my eyes as I examined it. I felt far too cold, but I didn't want to show anymore weakness at the moment. There'd been enough for a lifetime today. After only a minute in Jordan's grasp, I felt like I needed a four hour long shower.
Even in the dingy light of the back room we'd been given at the club, I could see the bruises already welling up.
"Why did you do that?" I asked. Fuck even my voice was trembling.
In the simplest of tones, Seth replied, "I'd do anything for you. You know that."
Not able to peel my eyes from his back, I allowed Nick to gather me around into another hug. Yet I just mechanically wrapped my arms around him as I stared at Seth while he headed into the alley over Nick's shoulder.
- Reactions anyone? Lol. Okay, I literally have to run to go to a horse show. You know it's raining and it's fucking August?! This isn't supposed to happen now. Fucking hell, and I'm not even riding my own horse. Biggest show on the west coast, you all, wish me luck!
Oh, and tell me what you thought! I LOVE you!