Band On The Run

New York I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down

It hadn't been hard to get out of the apartment without suspicion. Nick was busy packing up a suitcase of clothes, and I just called out for the door that I had to run to the studio and I'd see him soon. His goodbye shouted from the bedroom had sounded bewildered, but I didn't linger long enough to be questioned.

Where I was going was a lot further away than the studio. Because it was Maureen, I had to meet her at a restaurant not only on the Upper East Side, but specifically Madison Avenue.

With all the suspicion getting the better of me, I couldn't help but notice that it was all about saving face with her. It wasn't enough to meet for a cup of coffee and have a chat, or even meet at her office. I had to go all the way out to that fancy French restaurant that I last saw her, where no matter how much money I amassed I would always stick out like a sore thumb with my working class background.

Stuck in the typical traffic, I leaned my head against the cold window of the cab, trying to ignore all the finger prints from the tourist poking their fingers at whatever they saw. My headphones were stuffed in my ears and like clockwork, a familiar LCD Soundsystem sound began. I had to squeeze my eyes shut at the barrage of emotions that came with it.

New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. Like rat in a cage, earning minimum wage. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down.

The isolation resonated deep inside of my chest, and I let my eyes flick open and tilted to look out at my beloved streets. Since the moment I'd set foot in the City at eighteen I'd been certain I'd never leave. Yet these days I wasn't quite so sure. It no longer felt like the city I remembered from those first years where all I'd wanted to do was make music, there was too much betrayal these days and ulterior motives.

New York, you're safer and you're wasting my time. Our records all show you were filthy but fine. But they shuttered your stores, when you opened your doors, to the cops who were bored once they ran out of crime.

And yet I couldn't imagine where else in the world I would feel at home anymore. It had always been here for me, even when all the boys had left me alone; I still had New York City and music. It was almost like they went hand in hand when it came to me.

New York, you're perfect, oh, please don't change a thing. Your mild billionaire mayor's now convinced he's a king. So the boring collect, I mean all disrespect, in the neighbourhood bars I once dreamed I would drink.

Right then my cab driver slammed on the brakes violently when he was cut off, and he was instantly half way out the window, yelling obscenities at the sports car in front of us. I couldn't help the slight smile that moved my lips, and I turned my head to watch the streets full of people move past my car.

New York, I love you but you're freaking me out. There's a ton of twist but we're fresh out of shout. Like a death in the hall, that you hear through your walls. New York, I love you but you're freaking me out.

But within that warm feeling about the city, I remembered just who I was going to meet and why, and just that easily the smile fell away. The streets up here were far cleaner than the ones I'd spent the majority of time in. I saw someone busking on the street, people in clean cut suits walking past as quickly as they possibly could. And I wondered what kind of musician I would've become if I hadn't sold enough records on my first album, the sort of musician I would be if I hadn't had Seth.

New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. Like a death of the heart, where do I start? But you're still the one pool where I'd happily drown.

The song was long and built to a crescendo, which was a favourite tactic of the band, and there was something so satisfying about getting to that point. But right at that moment, the cab driver slammed down on the breaks, sending me sliding forward along the cracked leather seat. And then he spun around. The look he sent me made it clear he expected me to pay him and get the fuck out of his cab in the next five seconds.

"Okay, okay," I muttered as I tugged the headphones out of my ears and went to grab my bag.

Had the driver shown ever a hint of interest in me, I probably would've sat in that cab all day long – anything to avoid the conversation awaiting me in that restaurant. As it was, he just stared me down while I took my time paying the fare.

When there was no way to delay any further, I stepped out onto the street, tucking my headphones into my backpack. It would've been only too easy to stand there for the rest of the day. Still with a deep breath, I gathered up the last weary strands of my courage and walked inside.

There was no question who I was or who I was meeting when I stepped through the doors. The host's eyes almost bulged right out of his head at the sight of me before he hurried me back into the dining room.

And there she was looking like the Queen of New York City in a navy pant suit. My throat seemed to swell at the sight of her, a glass of white wine dangling fashionably from her fingers, and she hadn't seen me yet. Maureen Jones had always seemed regal to me, but I knew instantly that I couldn't look at her the same anymore. It would be impossible. At first I'd looked up to her in a grotesque mixture of awe and reverence, then the last time had been with anxiousness while still desperately wanting her approval.

It was amazing how quickly my opinion of her had fallen, even if the first betrayal was eight years in the past. Yet even I wasn't naive enough to think that I no longer felt anything for her. It was Maureen Jones for fuck's sakes. All my younger self's emotions were still there, though they were crushed beneath the overbearing tiredness that I felt when I looked at her. 

Maureen had been staring towards the dark red wall as I approached, her black eyebrows furrowed as if she was deep in thought, but then she looked towards me. I watched as the frown smoothed away and there was a beat where she paused, her eyes on me and speculative, clearly deciding on her game as she took me in. It was calculated, and those dark cat eyes of hers were as cold as they were cunning.

Right then it occurred to me that I'd seen that look thousands of times over the years; I just hadn't recognized it for the scheming that it was.

I ran a shaking hand over my face, ashamed at letting Ms Jones see me like this, but I'd never been much of an actress. My face was pale and clammy. She could probably tell I'd spent the early morning hours puking up all the alcohol in my stomach between sleeping fitfully on the bathroom floor.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore," I said, voice coming out pitiful and muffled from behind my hand.

I caught the sound of a bit off sigh, despite the fact my head was pounding, and felt my stomach tighten in humiliation. Ms Jones had always believed in me, even when I was a fresh eighteen year old and even Seth didn't have the time for me. How had I managed to turn even her against me? The boys were long gone with not as much as a phone call, and the thought of losing her as well made me the nausea come back full force.

"Keely, take the coffee," she said sternly, voice almost clipped.

Not seeing a way that I could do what she wanted and keep my face covered, I straightened up, feeling my stomach waver dangerously. The idea of drinking something after the night before, even if it was coffee, really did make me want to vomit again as I stared down at the disposable cup. Yet I'd always done what Ms Jones said. I wasn't about to change that now.

Swallowing down the queasiness, I picked up the cup and brought it to my lips. I made the mistake of glancing across the table to Ms Jones. Her eyes were narrowed on me, lips pursed tightly. I could feel the disapproval radiating off of her. Then her expression smoothed out, and she leaned forwards, her features softening in kindness. It had me blinking, and I supposed I must've imagined the previous look.

"You need to get back into the studio and write," Ms Jones said gently. She even reached across the table to give my hand a tender squeeze. "You're never going to feel right again unless you put it in music, you know that. I'll get a new solo contract drawn up for you to sign and you can get back into it."

I nodded before taking another sip of the coffee. My stomach was about to throw a mutiny at having anything in it, but that was preferable to telling Maureen Jones that I wasn't capable of stepping foot into UAE Studios again without Seth.

I felt that tiredness that had seeped into my bones freeze, and the suspicion started in.

"Keely!" Maureen announced, and just like that the memory shattered. Apparently she'd decided on a tactic, because as I blinked back into reality, I watched her smooth a welcoming smile on her face. She did it well enough that it felt like I was the only person in the world for her, if only for that blip of a moment.

All I could think was that was the most excited she'd ever looked to see me. Maybe because this was the first time she truly thought it mattered.

As I was too busy eyeing her reproachfully, good and bad memories speeding through my head unwelcome, I didn't see Maureen stand up. I definitely didn't notice as she stepped forward, let alone have the time to realize what she was doing and dodge out of the way, and then she wrapped her arms around me.

I froze.

There was a large, instinctual, part of me that was horrified, mentally shouting at myself to return the hug. It was reminding me that Maureen Jones had somehow wormed herself into a mother figure for me when I'd desperately needed one. It was telling me just how rude I was being by not responding. What could be the harm?

Yet the rest of me could still see that shrewd look in her eyes when she'd caught sight of me.

So I just stood there, stiff with my hands at my sides until she finally let go.

Still wearing a smile that was just too wide to be real, Maureen pulled away but held my arms in her hands as she looked down at me. She must've been wearing the highest heels in her wardrobe, because she towered over me when she was only a few inches taller than me in reality, and it forced me to crane my neck to look up at her. I was sure it was yet another manoeuvre to make herself seem more powerful.

Then the smile turned sad, almost downturned, and she rubbed my shoulders up and down as if it was supposed to be a comfort. "Oh, Keely, you look fragile," she said, her husky voice almost sickeningly sweet.

It was the most condescending thing I'd ever heard.

Suddenly I could hear my heart pounding in my ears like white noise, and my spine straighten on its own accord even as my eyes flashed up to meet hers. I knew I was supposed to be careful here. It was the promise I'd made to myself when I'd agreed to this without telling a soul, swearing to be smart in the meeting and watch my mouth that always did seem to get away from me.

All that planning and promising went straight out the window with the first words out of my mouth. I snapped, "I'm not fucking fragile."

Maureen blinked and dropped all contact with me, hands falling away like I'd burnt her as she took a step back as if reeling from the outright scorn dripping from my words. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time I'd truly surprised her.

Then she looked back down at me and all that faux concern was wiped clean away. Now she didn't bother to hide the shrewdness in her gaze when there was clearly no point in keeping up with that charade, not when my own look was stony.

"I suppose that means we're dispensing with the pleasantries," she said dryly.

"We're dispensing with trying to cut me down in the first two sentences of a conversation," I shot back. "I'd personally love some pleasantries if you can find them."

We stood there for a blink of a moment, staring hard at one another. It was like we were both trying to get a feeling of one another now that it felt as if we were worse than strangers. Maureen stood there in her heels and power suit, looking impeccable and not one day older than when I met her, while I stood opposite with a tattered fabric backpack and knackered converse, probably looking decades older than I was.

Yet somehow, it felt as if we should've been the same – like I was still just that wide eyed kid flown across the country – but everything had changed. The power balance had shifted and we could both feel it.

We just didn't know what to do with it yet.

"Why don't we start by sitting down?" suggested Maureen. She tried to affect a pleasant town, but there was no masking how strained she sounded.

Although I would've loved to have something witty and withering to say back, I found myself at a blank and had to remind myself of my personal promise. Be smart, no matter how unnatural it felt or how much she tried to bait me. So without a word, I took up my chair on the opposite side of the table from my old manager.

Not intending to spend much time here, I didn't bother to take off my back pack, preferring to sit at an awkward angle to accommodate it. My back was ramrod straight as I met her appraising eyes across the table. I'd never had such good posture in my life. If I'd been any sort of actress, I would've acted calm and nonchalant, like none of this meant a thing. As happened I knew I was useless, so I allowed myself to clench my fists in my lap out of sight.

Right at that moment, the waiter arrived at the table. "Can I bring you ladies anything?"

His arrival did nothing to cut the tension. I knew I was being rude, but I didn't let my gaze waver from Maureen's, like I might lose something intensely personal if I laws the one who looked away first.

Without breaking the look Maureen answered, polite as ever, "I get the feeling Keely won't be staying long enough to have a glass of wine with me. But if something changes, you'll be the first to know."

The waiter had barely taken a step away from the table when Maureen shifted forwards, her hands knitted together neatly on the table. "Did I not give you everything you ever wanted?" she began. She apparently did not see the point in beating about the bush. "I got you out of that tiny town, and I remember how miserable you were when I met you, even if you don't."

Pleasantries really were off the table.

"You had me sign things at eighteen years old that affected the rest of my life," I said, and the bitterness dripped like acid from my tone. All the muscles in my body were on high alert, as if I might have to make a quick exit, but really it was just the simple effort in not letting myself get lost in memories about Maureen Jones. It felt unsafe to do now in a way it had never felt with Seth.

"You were eighteen," she said almost mechanically. It was like she'd said this a thousand times before. "You were of age and welcome to do whatever you pleased."

"You could've at least explained the contract to me," I hissed. "I was a kid and you manipulated me."

It looked as if it caused Maureen physical pain not to roll her eyes at that, instead she picked up her wine glass. "What do you think the music business is?" she asked derisively before taking a delicate sip from the chilled white wine. Then she leaned forward slightly again. "There are always unsavoury things in business; no one can get around that. Did I not give you everything you ever wanted?"

My fists clenched then and I felt my nails cut into the soft flesh of my palms. Vaguely I wondered if it might draw blood, but I didn't mind particularly – the pain was grounding. Darkly, I said, "And you would've taken it all back if it didn't suit you. I saw the clause about being a session vocalist. I finally have people that don't lie and hide things in contracts."

Maureen gave a long suffering sigh then, dropping her wine glass so she could lay her hands flat on the table. It was like she was trying to reason with a toddler. "If things had gone badly, would you have rather stayed in New York with me or gone home a failure?"

A failure. The description echoed in my head, and I felt my mouth go dry at the thought of being eighteen years old again and remembering the way I'd gone back to Bellingham with no voice in defeat. It had been hard enough to face my dad and friends even with the knowledge that I would head back to the city the moment my voice healed. The thought of me being forced to stay there was enough to have my words freezing in my throat.

"Keely," she began softly, almost pleading. I forced my eyes to look down at the table, worried that she might see through me if I held eye contact. Or worse, that I might let that little kernel of myself that wanted to believe her grow. "I believed in you and I just wanted to make sure you were able to stay here."

Still I shook my head, trying to force out all those swarming thoughts and insecurities that came with being eighteen, unable to face my father, and terrified that I might let down the people that I thought were on my team. I'd been with Maureen for years in varying states of success, and somehow she always reduced me to being a scared teenager.

Not that things had changed that much. Drawing in a deep breath in an attempt to strengthen my resolve, I raised my eyes to meet hers again and refused to let myself be taken in by that almost motherly look she'd adopted.

"You were betting on me failing," I said quietly.

"I was not," Maureen returned all too quickly. Her expression shifted as she leaned forwards, something almost beseeching in her gaze, as if she was longing for me to see her point. "I was making a plan for you to keep you with UAE if the worst happened."

It would've been all too easy to fall for the guise as she widened her dark eyes, and a part of me would've loved to. Unable to keep holding her gaze, I let my eyes fall back to the table as I swallowed the alarming lump in my throat. Only then did I notice that my clenched fists had loosened. It was Maureen Jones, and part of what she was saying was true. It had to be.

Then she went in for the kill. "Keely, you were like family to Maddy and I," she said softy, "I just wish there was a way we could go back to that."

And just like that, she over played her hand.

My eyes flashed back up to meet hers, and this time my gaze was reproving. "Family doesn't do what you did to us. Four albums in four years is actually insane – that's a contract the mob used to set up for musicians in the sixties. We would start touring the moment our studio time ran out, and then the day we got home you would have us on a schedule for the next album release date. You had us on a goddamn hamster wheel for four years."

Realizing that the soft tactic wasn't going to get any traction with me, Maureen sat back in her chair, hands dropping into her lap. "You lot lived to tour, that's all you ever wanted to do. Don't put that on me – I never once forced you guys into doing a show."

"That's a fucking lie," I said sharply, "And you know it. Don't forget, you made me record half of my first album on the road, a kid that knew nothing about touring or recording, and I had to learn it all on the road. The only lucky thing was that I had Seth to help me."

"Don't you forget that I was the one that paired you with him as your producer," Maureen said, her voice cutting like a knife. Apparently my words were getting under that seamless exterior she kept. "All you two did was complain about how much you hated each other. If it hadn't been for me, you would never have had him as a writing partner and who knows where your career would've gone without him. I knew what was best then, and I also knew the only way to keep The Spares from imploding was to keep you guys on the road."

My blood started to boil when she took credit for mine and Seth's writing partnership. She had no idea what had gone on between us; the fights and childhood trauma that kept us from trusting each other. Our writing had nothing to do with her. "That's bullshit. You kept us touring because we made you money, don't make yourself into a saint. You had us touring until we couldn't stand up or see straight."

Maureen's eyes flashed dangerously, all the pretences dropping away so I could see her staring across the table, absolutely furious that I would dare call her out like that. In a dangerous tone, she said, "I think it was the drugs that you lot were doing that were the reason you couldn't see straight, so don't put that on me."

"We needed the drugs!" I exclaimed, and as eyes trained onto our table, I realized just how loud I was being. Apparently my promise of being smart had flown right out of the window. I leaned forwards, and in a hushed voice, continued, "We needed them to stay awake to get through each gig. We were playing so many shows a week we never knew what day it was or where we were. Then after the gig we needed more drugs to come down to have a moment of peace. I do blame you for that – I haven't forgotten that you hired someone specifically to get us drugs."

"We couldn't risk the press or cops catching you," Maureen answered as if it was obvious. "Don't act all high and mighty about that, I haven't forgotten that you took Brad with you when you left. And you and your band were doing drugs long before I hired him."

"Will wasn't doing heroin before that," I said accusingly.

That finally got a rise out of her; I saw that flash of temper rise up in her eyes as she glared across the table at me. "And what about Seth?"

All that self righteous fury that had carried me to that point deflated.

I slumped back into my chair as the tension left my spine; it was like someone had stolen the air right from out of my body. There was a grim satisfaction on Maureen's face as she watched the shock ripple through me. I'd been living with it for years, holding that secret and petrified someone might find out that after all this time. I'd always known that we hadn't been that great at keeping the secret and that one day I'd meet the consequences of the only thing I'd ever been able to keep out of the public's knowledge. Yet I'd never thought the person calling me out on it would be her.

Seeing the opening, Maureen leaned forwards to really drive the point home. "Did you really think I wouldn't know? Who do you think was paying off the press to keep those photos and exposés quiet? He wasn't exactly careful."

That felt like a physical blow, and my thoughts started racing even as my voice stuck in my throat.

"All I ever did was protect you," she said condemningly, "And you throw a party telling me to fuck off."

"Like you protected my 'intellectual property'?" I returned in a muted voice.

Maureen clammed up instantly, her expression going blank without as much as a flicker. Almost mechanically, she said, "That was a business decision; it was only there for when the band broke up."

"For when the band broke up?" I repeated the words incredulously.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," said Maureen dismissively. "You were a lost cause the moment you started dating Seth Ryan, and that's without even mentioning the disaster that was the rest of the band. Everyone knew you wouldn't be able to keep it together – that's why I was so against the band in the first place."

My stomach was caught up in knots, watching the woman who had pretty much given me the life I knew tear it all back down without a blink. It clearly hadn't mattered to her in the least. "We could've lasted without you," I said quietly, "Without those tours and an album every year and the drug runners. We'd still be a band if your world hadn't revolved around squeezing every penny out of us."

"I'd be careful what you say, Keely," Maureen returned. She enunciated every syllable carefully, making sure I had no chance in misinterpreting her. "You still think it's a good idea to settle this in the court of public opinion? They trust you right now because they think they know everything already, but what happens when they find out how you and Seth aren't the people you pretended to be? Who's going to be able to trust you when they find out how many secrets you really had?"

There was no misunderstanding the threat she was levelling across the table at me. She'd already said that she'd paid off countless people to keep Seth's drug addiction under wraps; I could only imagine what she'd gotten for the money. The incriminating photos alone had probably cost her a small fortune.

Even back then she'd known exactly what she was doing. I was sick to my stomach at the idea that all those times I'd run to her through the years, trusting her to help me, she'd already been compiling all she needed to ruin my life if she felt like it. She'd known that she might need to blackmail me someday and she'd prepared for it from day one.

A part of me had known that nothing was really free when it came to Maureen Jones, but this conversation had only driven the point home with the finality of a hammer.

As I sat there, silent and staring at her distastefully, Maureen held up her hand without warning, one finger pointed to the ceiling. My brow furrowed in confusion as I watched her drop her hand back to the table.

And then a flash went off in the restaurant.

It probably blinded everyone else, but I was too dead inside for it to faze me and turned my head to look directly at the camera right as it went off again. This time my gaze went white from the direct contact. My stomach sank. I'd always known that there was a strong chance that I might be followed here, but I'd convinced myself that no one would find out – that this was a temporary ceasefire.

As my vision cleared, I glanced back at Maureen and found her smiling at me blandly. Only then did it occur to me that she'd called the pap herself, and now my stomach twisted dangerously. If she was hoarding dirt on us, it only made sense that she would continue to create insurance for herself.

Just like that, all the anger came flooding back, and I gripped the strap on my bag tightly. "Do you worst," I snarled as I shoved out of my seat.

Maureen only continued to smile that infuriatingly insipid smile as she asked, "Do you think that's how Seth will feel about it?"

Her words stilled my body, the soles of my shoes glued to the ground with indecision. My gaze flickered between Maureen and the photographer who was still snapping photos, though he'd turned off his flash now the shock value was over.

It was more than a threat, and her words felt dangerous in a way I hadn't expected, goosebumps running up my spine. I'd spent so long taking the blame, keeping my head down while people in the music industry and the press alike talked about how it was my fault that the band broke up. And I could take it. I'd proved that by now. I didn't mind that Seth got away with his secrets and reputation intact. I was happy that he'd managed to get away and have something to himself that the rest of the world didn't pick over.

If the world at large had found out about his drug addiction, I had no idea if he would've been able to get clean. Back when the press zeroed in on their obsession with the dark haired rock star and found out his real name, they'd gone to his hometown and harassed his mother, interviewed his stepfather in jail – they'd even dug through his father's death records. That was when Seth had really sunk into himself, and no matter what the three of us did to help him, we couldn't drag him back out. That's when the heroin had started.

Back then I would've done anything to spare him from the press finding out and ripping what was left of him to pieces, and I did. I took the blame, I didn't talk to my friends, I stopped taking my father's calls because I couldn't listen to his outright disapproval of Seth. I did everything in my power to protect him, even when I hated him so much it felt like my lungs were full of knives.

I'd everything I could do to keep his head above water.

And now Maureen was threatening to take it all away.

With one last reproving look to where she was now watching me, wearing the most pleasant of expressions, I just walked away without a word. As I walked to the exit, I kept my chin high in the air and refused to turn back even for one glance at the woman who had found and made me. What would be the point?

It was an idea that even before had been so laughably naive that I hadn't even allowed myself to fully acknowledge it, but I'd hoped beyond hope that Maureen would've had the easy answer ready for me. It was so foolish to think with all the proof I already had that it might all be a misunderstanding, but I'd wanted her to tell me exactly that. I'd wanted her to tell me that Jordan had vindictively gone behind her back to put our catalog up for sale. That the contracts she'd had me sign were leftovers from the Paul Olsen era and that she'd never bothered to update them.

Somehow I would've preferred her to just be careless and bad at her job instead of being competent and shrewd.

It was good thing that she hadn't given me any real sorts of excuses for her behaviour, because there was a real chance that I would've believed her. It was shameful to admit, even just within my own head, but I'd wanted to believe her.

I'd wanted Maureen to give me a good enough reason for me to be able to make sense of my life again, even if it was a lie.

Nothing had made sense since the music had gone up for sale, and I desperately wanted some semblance of order back into my life. I wanted her to go back to being Ms Jones for me.

A part of me had wanted this meeting to solve everything, even though I'd known it wouldn't. It was the whole reason that I'd kept the meeting under wraps. Everyone would've let me know just how stupid I was being and that I should stay far away from Maureen when I didn't have a lawyer. And they would've been right.

Yet I'd still gone into this hoping that Maureen Jones would be able to fix everything.

Now we were more broken than before, and I didn't think there was any way to fix it.

There was especially no fixing it after she'd ambushed me with that photographer. My stomach sunk somewhere down to the sidewalk as I wondered just how many photos had been snapped before the flash had been used. Maybe that was the whole reason she'd hugged me. It had been uncharacteristically affectionate for her. With all the money she threw at the tabloids, I could only imagine the slew of articles that were about to pop up everywhere.

So much for one last secret meeting with Maureen Jones.

Knowing that I was running on borrowed time before those photos were all over the internet and sitting on the cover of magazines in every bodega in New York, I pulled out my phone. It was time to come clean. Hopefully if I could tell my band my side of the story before Maureen's was all over, they wouldn't come for my head.

For a short moment I lingered over Seth's number in my phone, thumb hovering as I hesitated. All the things Maureen had said about him started in a loop in my head, and in my mind I could see the way the disappointment in me would settle over his face, dampening any golden traces, and then they would darken as the anger replaced it when he realized I'd gone behind his back to meet with her. There had been a time in our lives when we'd shared everything. It had long passed, but the guilt in my stomach felt rancid.

Then a bitter voice in my head reminded me that I didn't know if he was with Claire or not, and I could only imagine my call would ruin their date. So I scrolled past his number to another.

Will answered instantly – like he'd had the phone in his hand and had been waiting eagerly on my call. But I didn't let him get so much as a word in before I hurriedly said, "Hey, do you think the four of us could get together, like now?"

"That shouldn't be hard," he said, sounding bemused. "I mean, we're just waiting on you."

"What?" I asked blankly. Still I was already stepping up to hail a cab.

With a long suffering sigh that sounded as if he wasn't surprised at all, Will said, "We're at The Cellar. You know, for your boyfriend's going away party."

Although Will's tone was beginning to sound dangerously like he was about to launch into a lecture about my forgetfulness, I was barely paying attention, more focussed on the cab speeding up to the curb. The beauty of Madison Avenue, I supposed. "He's not even going away for two weeks," I mumbled distractedly as I opened the door.

"And we'll have welcome home drinks then, too," Will answered like it was obvious, "Just get here, okay?"

*

I knew the moment I started down the stairs at The Cellar that this was a mistake. The feeling was only compounded by the sound of Sad Songs (Say So Much) pumping from downstairs. The cheerful music combined by the bleak lyrics only worsened the dread that weighed as much as lead in my stomach.

The very idea that I was going to have to have this conversation in public was bad enough. Combine that with the fact our track record at this bar was far from stellar and that Fly Way was going to privy to it; it just spelt disaster.

But what else could I do? There was no doubt in my mind that Maureen would have those photos everywhere in no time – she'd made it pretty clear that she was going to do everything in her power to discredit me. I had to get in front of her here. If the boys saw that photo with no explanation from me it was going to be far worse.

It wasn't hard to spot them, before I'd even stepped off the last of the stairs, my eyes trained right on the group. The chatter from the table that there were sat around was a solid buzz, and even from my distance I could make out what they were saying. It was still pretty early on a Wednesday night, so the bar was doing a respectable amount of business. Sadly, it wasn't enough to make sure that we wouldn't be overheard.

As I walked forwards, my gaze zeroed in on Seth and Claire. They were sat side by side at the table facing the entrance, though they hadn't noticed me yet. Seth had his arm slung casually over the back of her chair. From the other side of the table with his back to me, Will made a theatrical hand gesture that had Claire laughing prettily while Seth just rolled his eyes before dropping his forehead dramatically into her shoulder.

I'd thought that heavy feeling in my chest couldn't get any worse but I was proved wrong when even that sensation dropped like a rock.

It only made sense that Claire was here – I was the idiot for not expecting it. If Claire hadn't forced him to come, why on earth would Seth be at Nick's going away party? Sure, Seth and Nick were polite enough when forced together in social situations, but to my knowledge they hadn't shared more than twenty words since Nick had sucker punched him.

Only then did Jake's eyes flicker up, and he let out a cheer when he saw me, holding his beer above his head.

People swivelled around in their chairs while Seth and Claire just had to look up, but they joined in on the cheer. And despite the heavy feeling of dread that made my feet feel as if they weighed down with cement blocks, a smile turned up the edges of my mouth.

Without a fuss, Nick pushed up from his seat and with only a subtle move where he squeezed my hand; he was off towards the bar. My eyes trailed after him, the reluctant smile softening as I watched him lean his elbows against the bar as he ordered a drink I knew was for me. It was his going away party, and there he was without even a question.

My eyes flicked back to the table, and saw that Claire had angled herself to face Seth in the small space they were allowed around the small table, and he was saying something quietly enough that I couldn't make out the words. Her eyes were soft while she watched him speak, and there was something of a grin on his mouth. My own smile fell away, and I lifted my hands to grip the straps of my backpack tightly.

There was a split second where I felt like I was an outsider looking in on a party. Marcus and Jackson stretched across the table so they could talk animatedly to Jake who had the look of a world wearing rock star, sharing his woes in a beat up jean jacket. Mark was staring at Dan like he'd said the most bizarre thing he'd ever heard – the boy did love to get drunk and spot conspiracy theories. Ben and Will were leaning in, heads tipped together, and I could hear the very serious conversation about what LA musicians were twats. The only empty chair at the table was Nick's, and those chairs were already pressed in so tightly there was no room for another.

Unable to help myself, I let my gaze travel back over to Claire and Seth, attempting to be sly but I was sure I didn't manage it. They made a pretty picture of opposites. Claire looked too bright for the dark surroundings, her blonde hair somehow still shining beneath the light and a low cut blue top that matched her eyes. And Seth looked just like him, handsome and dark with a black leather jacket. While I watched, she tipped her head towards him, and her hair fell over her shoulder like a curtain, blocking their faces from my view.

The grip I had on the straps of my back pack tightened to the point I could barely feel my hands. It felt like another stab bringing the point home that I wasn't a part of this; my own boyfriend's going away party. They'd clearly been having a brilliant enough time without me. No one had even called to ask where I was – I'd had to call them. Would they have been bothered if I hadn't shown up?

The thoughts that were sending me spiralling were interrupted when Will shoved up from the table where he was directly in front of me. He was tall enough that his back blocked my view of the entire table. That put the thoughts on hold. Then he spun around, wrapping me in a huge hug where his arms enveloped me completely, and it felt like if I let go, I might be able to close my eyes and vanish into the embrace.

Then Nick appeared at my side when Will let go, pressing a kiss to my cheek at the same time as a cold glass into my hand.

I wondered if the constant guilt I felt was going to form itself into an ulcer in my stomach, because everyone looked so easy going and happy at the moment and I was about to ruin in. So I just took a deep gulp out of what turned out to be a gin and tonic.

"Keely!" called out Claire eagerly, forcing me to look up reluctantly from my drink. She was sat up properly again, facing me directly, but Seth's arm remained slung over the chair, and I wondered if it was unconscious to him the way he was leaning in to her. "Where were you? I was saving you a seat, but this guy stole it." As she spoke, she shoved Mark gently where he sat at her other side and he sent her a warm smile.

For some reason that had my jaw wanting to clench shut, but I forced a pleasant smile onto my face. Or at least the closest thing I could manage. "I thought actors always complained that they didn't get to see the places where they filmed because they're always stuck on set. I swear I see you every day."

My words had an instantaneous response. Mark grimaced and buried his face in his drink while Seth sent me a warning look, his eyes flashing with it. I didn't bother to look at anyone else.

However Claire just laughed with a shrug, the absolute queen of diffusing any tense situation. "Usually I would say that," she admitted. "But I actually just finished shooting my scenes last week; I've been waiting for production to end, so I've been more or less free all the time. Seth and I are actually going to head to a wrap party after this."

It almost made me mad that she put even my raised hackles at ease, but instead I just gave a sigh and took another sip from the drink. I'd never known someone that waded every social situation her ease and it made me wondered if it was actually impossible to hate her. I thought I was probably the person most eager to hate her in the world, and somehow I couldn't manage it. Her patience probably would be a good thing if she was going to be with Seth.

He was always willing to jump into a fight, and she might be able to tame that side of him in a way I never could.

With a grimace of my own, I realised I'd been distracted from the task at hand and took another giant steeling gulp from my drink. Then I opened my mouth, hand clenched around my drink, prepared to blurt to drop the grenade that I'd been holding with the pin pulled for far too long. But Mark spoke up before I could.

"Since we're all finally here together," he began, shooting a pointed look in my direction. I just rolled my eyes. "I can finally say that I got a call about that award that Seth and Keely were up for."

"And neither of us won because they think we're a disgrace to music," I said carelessly as I took another long drink. I was going to be done in no time at all.

"Actually Seth won," Mark said with no flair whatsoever.

The hand that had been holding my drink up lowered in my surprise. Our table had gone dead silent. There was a pause where everyone took the time to look at Seth, who only took a long drink from the beer in his hand with raised eyebrows. He almost looked sheepish.

And then all chaos broke out.

Will started shouting that we needed more drinks, Jake shot out of his chair so he could shake Seth's shoulders as if to knock some excitement into him. The boys of Fly Way, with the exception of Nick, cheered and went over to pound him on the back in congratulations. Claire just smiled that brilliant sunny of smile of hers at him.

Then Seth looked across the table to where I was still standing, and I just held up my drink in a sort of mock cheers with a wry smile on my face. He mimicked the action, holding his beer up before we drank in unison.

It was odd, but there was absolutely no part of me that was jealous of him even as our friends made such a fuss.

Both of us had never really been that impressed with awards, but that might've been a part of himself that he had instilled inside of me. There was too much of him that had become a part of me. Still there had really been no part of me that expected I could win artist of the decade when my competition was him.

Who was I in comparison to the Seth Ryan?

There were long periods of time where I forgot that he wasn't just my ex boyfriend that I'd been in a band with – he was a world renowned musician. I'd always known he had made and produced the best music that had come out of the decade. Now he was just going to have award to prove it.

"I hope they realize," Seth began over the frenzied celebration engulfing him, "I only made music for like five years out of this past decade."

"Oh, shut up, mate," said Jake, swatting Seth over the back of the head.

Claire started laughing brightly at that.

The smile on my face had bloomed watching all of them, and from the corner of my eye I could see Will racing back with a tray of shots. I thought this was the way I liked us best, smiling and talking over one another. For just that brief second, it felt like there was nothing that could ruin it. Nick left my side, darting over to help Will with the distribution of the shots and making sure there was one in everyone's hands except for Claire.

"Hey Keely," said Ben in a curiously almost vacant sounding voice. My gaze turned to where he was stood slightly behind Seth, looking down at his cellphone, and instantly it felt as if all my insides had been scooped away and I was left hollow. "Why is there a picture of you of Maureen Jones hugging you on twitter?"

The chaotic celebratory energy that had rushed in on our group like a tidal wave froze just the easily. All eyes snapped in my direction, ranging from shock to suspicion, but what I really noticed then was that they were all on the other side of the table. They'd all rushed off to congratulate Seth, and I was the only one that remained in spot – even Nick was over there. It felt as if I was facing off to a jury of my peers with no hope of acquittal.

"It must been an old photo," Will said as if it was obvious. Still he'd halted in spot at the words, the tray with two shot glasses still on it clutched in his big hands. His eyes were glued on me, and I could almost hear the way he was looking at me for explanation.

I only shook my head mutely.

The move didn't mean much, because Ben was already continuing, "She's in the same clothes. The photo's from today."

My hands began to tremble, and in an attempt to hide it, I drained what was left of my glass before dropping it on the table. Everyone was eyeing me expectantly. Jake looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a brick, Will was still disbelieving, Mark was frowning and Seth just stared across at me. I wondered which one of them I'd looked like the most while sitting across from Maureen Jones.

It wouldn't be hard to find out, the photos were already out.

With a shaky sigh, I ran a hand over my face before I confessed in a muffled voice, hidden behind my hands. "She called the other day to say she was in town, and she only wanted to talk to me."

And once again chaos broke out, but it wasn't the sort of happy confusion that I liked so much, it was the kind where everyone collectively lost their minds.

"You met with Maureen Jones?" Nick practically muttered the words to himself, two full shot glasses forgotten in his hands. 

Will was not so subtle as he slammed the tray down on the table. "What the fuck, Keely?"

My eyes were fixed on the shot glasses that had toppled over, the golden liquid flooding the tray that everyone else had forgotten. My throat felt dry. And I wondered if somehow I was drowning even as I was parched and wishing I could bury the sensation in more booze. Maybe I was just slowly drowning myself.

"You wouldn't have," said Mark quietly. The disappointment in his voice was enough wrench my eyes from the pitiful sight of wasted tequila, but when my eyes found his, I could see the mounting frustration behind his gold rimmed glasses.

"What possible fucking reason could you have had to think that was a good idea?" Jake almost shouted across the table.

And through it all, Seth just sat silent. His expression was unreadable. That person I hadn't recognized before, the one that had looked humble and embarrassed by his friends' congratulations was gone. In his place was that same old Seth I'd always known. He looked sullen and unresponsive as his gaze burnt into my cheek. He only moved to grab a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, retrieving a smoke before tossing the pack on the table, almost like he was disgusted.

I would've preferred him to just join in with the yelling.

For a long moment, I closed my eyes, trying to deal with the onslaught calmly. I should have been ready for this – I'd known it was coming. If I got too emotional now, it would do nothing to endear them to me; in fact it would probably turn them against me. I knew it from experience. So in a voice that barely trembled, I said, "She called right when we were going on stage at that TV show."

"You kept that from us?" Jake exclaimed. "That was days ago!"

"It's not like that," I returned quickly, "She–"

"Oh, so you're going to tell us what it's like now?" Will interrupted, voice seething as he crossed his arms over his chest. It made him look even taller than normal. Or did I just feel smaller?

My eyes darted around, finding the members of Fly Way looking on at the sudden fight in absolute incredulity – Nick still had those glasses in hand. It hurt my chest to look at him.

"She just wanted to talk," I said, tone too close to desperate for my liking, turning back into the fight.

Will only scoffed, "I'm sure. That's why she called the paps."

"I didn't know about that," I said quickly.

"Clearly," answered Jake in almost a sneer.

That desperation and guilt was starting to mix with something else, something that was bubbling up from the pit of my gut and felt hot as fire. "I deserved to know what she had to say for herself," I told them quietly.

"Of course, only Keely Staub deserves to know," Jake snapped, accent deepening in his anger. "The rest of us can find out through fucking twitter."

I swallowed and found myself once again glancing towards Seth, where he still hadn't spoken a word. It was enough to make me furious. Why was he being quiet? It wasn't like him at all, getting mad at me was his favourite past time. He'd pulled his arm away from Claire, who had a horribly sad expression on her face. Seth was taking a drag from his cigarette, leaned forwards, his eyes never flickering away from me.

Why wasn't he saying anything?

"It wasn't like that." My voice came out short, and I realized that hot feeling that was starting to take over was anger. I'd already dealt with Maureen Jones trying to rip me to pieces today, tearing at the very foundations of what made me the person I was. And now I had to deal with the same thing from the very people I'd wanted to protect in the first place?

"And you're such a good judge?" asked Will disdainfully.

That had me snapping, letting that hot feeling smother any receding feelings of guilt. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Jake almost looked pleased at the burst of emotion – it was no fun getting mad at someone who didn't rise to the bait, was it? "He means that you're the last person in the world that should be allowed to be alone with Maureen."

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously.

"We're in a fucking lawsuit with her Keely!" Will shouted, finally letting his temper go completely. "How are you so stupid?"

"Hey," started Nick defensively. He no longer looked to be in shock. Instead he was eyeing Will up with a reproving look, his face looking shadowed, and those shot glasses in his hands looked in danger of breaking in his hands.

Before I could stop myself, I said sharply, "This is none of your business, Nick."

Although he'd taken staring at the table, looking pale and betrayed, Mark raised his head then and the look he fixed me with was reproachful. His voice was quiet, but we all heard when he said, "Will's right. You should never have gone to see her."

"So now you guys are going to tell me who I can and can't see?" I asked, my voice rising in astonished derision.

"Yes, because if it wasn't for you we wouldn't be in this mess!" Will answered hotly.

The words felt like a slap to the face or a kick to the stomach, or maybe even both. It shut up everyone at the table for a moment. All the blood drained from my face then, leaving me feeling pale and exposed as I stared at Jake and Will who were bonded in their outrage against me.

Claire was looking at Will as if she'd never seen him before – and she probably hadn't ever seen him like this before.

All the members of Fly Way were looking shell shocked.

They may have watched Susan Webster's documentary that had showed the band falling apart, but seeing it on a screen was much different than living it. And I'd lived it. All these feelings and these words were déjà vu for me. It was a jarring reminder that we weren't those happily chaotic people we been pretending to be lately – that was a façade. These were the men I remembered from that last year, except Seth who was still dissonantly silent as he watched them gang up on me. And somehow that was worse.

I glanced over at him, just wanting him to say something, but he only let out a breath, the smoke curling out of his mouth like something from a noir movie. My stomach jumped with anger at the sight.

So I looked over at my best friend, and said clearly, "Go fuck yourself, William."

"He's right," Jake said quickly, glaring at me across the table. "If you hadn't just blindly trusted the woman, we wouldn't be here now."

"Of course, I forgot that being in this band is the worst thing in the world to you," I snapped, glaring right back at him disdainfully. "Grow up and move the fuck on, right? I should've remembered the last thing you said to me."

That finally seemed to catch Jake off guard, and he cringed at the memory.

Will wasn't ready to let up, though. "Don't blame us for the fact you signed yourself away."

"We all signed shit contracts," I shouted in frustration. "It wasn't just me!"

"The rest of us never signed away our rights to everything," Jake pointed out sharply.

"I was a child! I didn't know any better."

"I'm a year younger than you and I didn't do that!" Will shouted back at me, eyes flashing dangerously.

"You're what?" Mark asked quickly.

No one paid him any mind, though, and I found myself matching his volume as I snarked, "That's only because your band was shit."

After all of that, only then did Seth decide he was going to grace us with his opinion. With his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers, and smoke trailing out of his mouth with his words, Seth started, "Okay, let's just take a step back–"

The frustration that had been building at his silence turned out to be a fuse leading to a powder keg, and his words were the light. I turned on him quicker than I even thought possible. "Oh, so now you have something to fucking say?"

Seth sent me a dark look as he took a drag from his smoke, and he said warningly, "I don't think you're in a position to talk."

That bubbling anger rose right up and threatened to choke me then, and I was practically seeing red as I spat back at him. "I think I've been quiet for long enough where you're concerned, you fucking dick. And, just for the record, when I was storming out of there, it wasn't me she was threatening."

The moment the words left my mouth I wanted to snatch them back in, and I could feel the eyes in the room turning to look at Seth. But he didn't look at anyone else, even as Claire turned her wide eyes to him. He just stared back at me, and I felt the anger recede from my chest, the guilt coming back in a tidal wave. And in that second where we just stared at each other, the rest of them almost vanished, I was sure he understood exactly what I was thinking.

However the silence didn't last long.

Jake was still livid with me, and wasn't ready to turn that emotion on anyone else. So he said scornfully, "Oh, for fuck sakes, Keely, we don't need to do all this again. Not everything in your world is Seth's fault."

"We all left," Will added in, "Seth didn't do anything worse to you than the rest of us."

I didn't say a word back to them, allowing them to continue the cruelty and just held eye contact with Seth who had the grace to at least look slightly shamed. When Seth gave no sign of replying, I felt my shoulders slump.

Only the two of us that knew the truth, and I couldn't defend myself without outing him. It was a no win situation for me. I broke off the eye contact, running a shaking hand through my hair, and realized I was probably better off to walk out. There was no way I could make any of them listen to me right now.

"She's saying that Maureen Jones knows that I was hooked on heroin and that Keely kept that secret for five years," Seth said, words clear and tone matter of fact.

I froze in spot.

The table went dead silent. In fact, I wasn't sure anyone breathed.

My eyes flew back to Seth, and found that he was still looking at me. And I couldn't blame him; right now I couldn't bring myself to look at anyone else either. I could only imagine the looks of shock and horror on the faces of everyone around us. His jaw was set, it was a look he only wore when getting prepared for a fight. He took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand.

I realized right then that I only had a second more to decide if I was going to weather the bomb he'd just dropped with all the abuse I'd already taken today.

And I decided it was my turn to be a coward for once.

Taking a step forward, I snatched the pack of Camels Seth had left on the table, figuring I deserved them and then I hurried right back out of the bar.

Maybe it was me that left destruction in my wake wherever I went after all.

With the cigarettes clasped tightly in my sweaty hand, I bolted for the stairs. And just like I had early with Maureen, I refused to look back. Seth could deal with the fallout on his own, just like I had been for the past four years. After that verbal beating I'd taken from Will and Jake, I could not handle one more accusation flung at me.

When I got to the exit at ground level, I collapsed back against the brick wall that looked just as dirty as it had when we'd started coming here, back when I'd still needed my fake ID. There were people milling around on the street, but no one paid me any mind with the very last seconds of sunlight barely visible in the sky as the streetlights started to flicker on. My breath was coming out in short quick gasps as I dug through my back pack, hand searching desperately through the rag tag contents at the bottom of the bag. I may have given up smoking almost entirely for Nick, but I always had a lighter on me.

My hands were still shaking by the time I had the lighter in hand. It was bad enough that it took me multiple tries to light up as I mumbled curses around the cigarette in my mouth. But I did eventually manage to get it lit.

And that first drag felt like the first calm breath I'd taken since I'd left Nick in the apartment earlier.

My breathing slowed down as I got back in the rhythm of smoking, my heart no longer racing a mile a minute in my chest and my fingers regained the feeling I'd lost back in the bar. And only then, with my back against a grimy wall, did I realize I had no longer had any secrets from the people I loved most in the world. With just those words, Seth had set me free.

It should've felt like a five year old weight had finally been taken off my shoulders, and yet it felt like I might burst into tears.

Keeping that secret for Seth had destroyed my image irreparably in the press, and I'd gotten all sorts of blame and hate put on me for it. I'd had more shit screamed at me from fans than I was willing to admit. People loved to put blame somewhere. And it wasn't a secret that women were always the first to be vilified. No wonder I felt such a kinship to the Courtney Love's and Yoko Ono's of the world. Sure, I'd deserved a lot of the hate I got – I knew I wasn't the best person around. But there was so much that had been unwarranted that I took on without hesitation.

Yet all of that was because I'd been protecting someone that I loved. It may have almost destroyed me when Seth had left, but there wasn't even a question in my mind that I would do it all over again. No hesitation. No matter how many shit things my band said to me or awful rumours that got spread in the press, I'd choose him every time.

And now he'd just gone and let me off the hook. There was nothing left between us except history.

Somehow that didn't feel like something to celebrate.

My eyes filled with tears and I tipped my head up to the sky, willing the them not to fall as I took another drag from the cigarette in my hand, gladly letting the poisonous smoke coat the inside of lungs.

I was already half way into my second smoke when Claire came out the door.

She walked straight to me, and I realized that what I thought was a top was actually a low flowing dress that went to her feet with a slit up the leg. She looked like something from Greek mythology. Even the fluorescent lights that lit up her path didn't dim the fact she was practically from a story book. And without hesitation, she leaned her bare shoulder against the grubby brick wall beside me, apparently unbothered by the crisp air.

Claire didn't speak up. Her wide blue eyes were watching me closely, clearly gauging my reaction, but there were also filled with so much concern that I thought I might vomit all over her pretty dress. When I didn't instantly tell her off, she tucked her loose hair behind her ears, making them stick out in way that should've been dorky yet was anything but. And still, she just waited.

Flicking the ash off the end of my cigarette, I fixed my eyes solely on it as I muttered, "I'm surprised they sent you out."

"They didn't," she admitted, her lips turning up in the tiniest of bashful smiles. "They're still in there fighting with each other, and the rest of them are too scared to move. Boys are useless. I didn't think they needed me in there."

Raising the cigarette back to my mouth, I eyed her almost suspiciously before letting out a deep breath that filled the air in smoke. "What do you want, Claire?"

In a gentle voice, she just said, "I wanted to see if you were okay."

"How the fuck am I supposed to be okay?" I asked, though there wasn't a hint of anger in my voice. In fact I almost sounded desperate. "My whole life just practically blew up in my face in there for everyone to see." Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my thumb and pointer finger into my temples and, with great feeling, muttered a simple, "Fuck."

Claire only shifted closer to me. "Can I tell you something?"

Opening my eyes that were alarmingly filling with tears again, I just nodded, looking back at her.

"Will didn't introduce Seth and I," she confessed. "We met in NA when I got to the city. Obviously we didn't tell anyone about it due to the anonymous part, and neither of us really talk about our addictions outside of meetings. But he said I could tell you, if I wanted, since you already knew about him. Not even Will knows that I'm in the program."

The change in topic had the moisture in my eyes drying up, and my mind started to race as I thought back to their easiness together when they'd first met. I'd put it down to having a ridiculous amount of chemistry for Seth to be that at comfortable with someone he'd only just met. And it hit me hard that it hadn't been just Seth and I who had known the truth back in that bar.

With my eyebrows knitted together in thought, I asked, "So when you told me that you didn't drink when we met?"

"I was lying about it not being a big deal," she said with a carless little shrug. "It is a big deal to me. For some people, like Seth, they feel okay to keep drinking and that's their choice, but for me it doesn't work. I went to rehab when I was seventeen. It's a boring story, childhood actress gets sucked into booze and drugs to cope with her life – it's pretty typical."

As I looked back at her I could only think that it was probably the most interesting story I ever heard, especially since she was standing in front of me, so kind and normal considering the fact she was a world known actress. Instead of saying any of that, I just questioned, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I wanted to tell you that Seth has talked about you at meetings," she said. "I can't tell you what he's said, but I can say that he knows how much you've done for him and he's so grateful to you. Really, I came out here to see if you were okay and to tell you I think you're awfully brave and a very good person, Keely."

And just like that the tears came raging back.

This time I knew there was no holding back, even though I tried to choke them back as I dragged in a shaky breath from my cigarette. All the emotions that I'd been keeping under a tight lid came back with enough force they would've knocked me over if my back hadn't been against the wall. The betrayal I'd felt from Maureen, the hurt from the fight with Jake and Will, and not to mention the sheer pressure of keeping Seth's secret – it all came to a head right then.

Claire didn't move away, even though if I'd been in her position I probably would've run as far as my feet could take me. Instead, she asked softly, "Can I give you a hug?"

In a move that surprised even me, I nodded, and Claire instantly bundled me up in her arms. My breaths were coming out ragged now as the tears started to fall down my cheeks, but instead of trying to calm it with cigarettes; I just hugged her back, dropping the bitter end of smoke on the concrete.

I'd forgotten what it was like to have another girl there for comfort and understanding. Since Marissa had died, I'd managed to have the only girl in my life to be Fiona who really could take me or leave me. The level of understanding just wasn't the same with men.

"You know," Claire said quietly, "You can tell me if I'm overstepping with Seth. I know I'm never going to be able to fully understand the dynamic between the two of you – I don't think anyone really will. I truly don't want to be the person to hurt you."

As my sobs died down, I just shook my head as I pulled back from Claire. "You're not overstepping," I said. It was the first time I admitted that, even to myself as the lyrics to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road echoed in my head. Wiping the moisture from my cheeks, I looked back up at her and continued, "Seth and I have a lot of history, but that's it."

"Do you want to go back in?" she asked, tipping her head to the doors.

Instantly I shook my head. "I think I'll leave them to sort it out on their own. I've had enough of them for one night."

Before I could step away from her, Claire reached out to grab my hand and give it a strong squeeze. "You didn't deserve the way Will and Jake were talking to you," she told me firmly.

With a sad smile of my own, I squeezed her hand just as tightly back before I dropped it and pushed myself off the wall. "That's very nice of you to say, but you know what? I think I did."

*

Nick got to the apartment only minutes later than me, though I'd left him in the bar without a word.

He didn't make me explain or apologize for snapping at him, he just gave me a hug and poured us both a glass of wine. We only spoke about his trip as he repacked his suitcase. I was sat up, propped against the pillows and judging every article of clothing he packed. We disagreed easily about his clothes, and though he feigned hurt, there was a smile on his face when he'd go back and change his choice again.

It was the only appropriate way to spend the evening after the night I'd had. We ordered in pasta that we ate from the containers in the bed, talking about everything that was coming up and nothing from the past. 

I fell asleep like that, stomach warm and full from carbs and red wine, tucked beneath a throw blanket.

Nick's alarm went off way too early in the morning, and I blearily woke myself up while he puttered around the room, collecting his things. It was still dark out when I pattered after him into the living room where he was doing one last check, the only light coming from the lamp beside the couch.

Without a word, I shuffled forwards to wrap my arms around his back, pressing my cheek against his and he hugged me back with enough force I couldn't breathe for a moment.

Pulling back only slightly so his concerned eyes could scan my face, Nick asked, "You'll be okay while I'm gone?"

Barely awake, I blearily replied, "I'm not sure I know how to live without you anymore."

That probably wasn't the right thing to say, because a pained look flickered over Nick's face as he cupped my cheek in his hand. I leaned into the pressure without delay. His eyes glanced over to his suitcase and carryon that were stacked neatly at our feet, and then he looked back to me, expression torn.

Pasting on the most reassuring look on my face that I could, I turned my head into his hand so I could press a kiss against his skin. "You won't even be gone two weeks," I said, though I wasn't sure if that was supposed to reassure him or me. "I'll survive that long."

"I love you," he said firmly.

I smiled back at him, and said, "I love you too."

*

After Nick left, I crawled back into bed. If sleep wanted to be my friend, I wasn't about to turn it down.

By the time I woke up again, this time in an empty bed, the sun was shining brightly through the blinds. Still wearing only a baggy Pink Floyd shirt that I couldn't remember buying and underwear, I pulled my phone towards me, having no interest in getting up quite yet.

There were multiple missed calls and text waiting for me there. Will and Jake's numbers made up the bulk of the list, though I noticed with a hard sort of pang in my chest that Seth hadn't bothered to attempt contact. Ignoring the texts from the boys, I went immediately to the text that Nick had sent me no longer than an hour ago.

It read: 'Just about to get on the plane. I'll call you when I land.'

I was still sitting there, smiling at the thoughtfulness in the message in the bright mid morning sun when a call lit up the phone.

Gathering a full breath into my lungs, I accepted the call and put the phone to my ear, though I didn't bother to sit up. "I haven't had coffee yet," I said by way of greeting.

"It's eleven in the morning," Mark returned incredulously.

I rolled my eyes up at the ceiling, but said, "I'm only warning you."

"I'll never understand the urge to sleep in," he muttered. "Did Nick get to the airport okay?"

"Yeah, he left super early this morning to meet the rest of the band at JFK," I said over a yawn. "They should be landing in California in couple hours. He said he'd call me then."

"Cool, cool, cool," said Mark, but he already sounded distracted. "So in light of Maureen being in back in town and the literal shit storm that she started for you by posting those photos, I've cancelled all your guys' upcoming publicity until we get a handle on it."

That was enough to make me finally sit up in bed. With the covers mused around me, I pulled my knees up to my chest and ran a hand through my knotted hair. All the sudden all that easiness from just spending a carefree night with Nick had vanished and the weight was back on my chest, threatening to suffocate me. And all I could think was that maybe Jake was right for not wanting to be in this band if this was what The Spares did to us.

"So what's the temperature on me?" I asked softly. A part of me didn't want to know, but I was grown up enough these days to know it was necessary.

Mark gave a loud sigh. "I'm not going to lie to you, Keely," he said reluctantly, "It's not good. The press is running stories about how your loyalty is really to Maureen and UAE, that you've been on their side of the lawsuit this whole time. We all know that's just PR crap coming from Maureen's camp, but it's hard to know how it's going affect the public opinion of you right now."

Biting down on my lip, I stared out the window to the strip of sky I could see between the buildings across the street. "I know it's my fault, Mark," I admitted, "I know I did this to myself. And I'm sorry, but I would do it again. I had to know what she had to say for herself."

"I kind of understand that, even if it was so dumb to do. What did she say to you? They never let you get in a word at the bar."

"She lied," I said flatly. "She tried to make me believe that she was selfless and helped me out of the good of her heart, and that all those clauses she put in my contracts were to ensure that I would be able to stay with UAE even if my music flopped. And when she couldn't convince me of that, she tried to threaten me with Seth, and then she got those photos taken."

"What a bitch," Mark swore without apology.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I started to laugh. "She is such a fucking bitch," I giggled in agreement.

"Well, I might have a way to prove that you're actually not on her side. The organizers of the award show called me. At the end of the show, before they present the award to Seth, they're getting a group of musicians to cover music by him in the lead up. They're hoping that you'd be open to being the last performer and present him with the award."

I found myself frowning. "They want me to present the award I lost? Not that I care, but still. And it's not like I can perform any of the music that he wrote because of the lawsuit."

"I think it would be a good thing to do, at least for public opinion of you," Mark said earnestly. "It's pretty common knowledge that your relationship with Seth has been strained, but if you present him the artist of the decade award it would be a good look for both of you. It would at least give off the idea that you guys have each other's backs."

"I'll do it," I said with a sigh, "But you'll have to tell them I can't perform any of his music."

In a slightly mischievous voice, Mark suggested, "You could play early NSR."

"Fuck that," I said with a laugh.

Mark's laugh rang out from the end of the line, and I found that I felt lighter again now that I at least knew I had him on my side. "So the conversation sort of got away before I could really ask last night, is it true that Will is a full year younger than you? I thought he just turned twenty seven."

"Nope, he's the baby of the group," I said breezily, "Not that you would've known it last night by the way they were talking to me. It's going to be my year to shine at twenty seven."

"Okay," said Mark thoughtfully, "I've got to go and check something. But, Keely, I think it would be a good idea for you to lay low today. The press is going nuts. You still have to play the Harlem show tonight, it's too late to cancel and we've already cancelled that one once, but otherwise stay in. I'll have a car to pick you up for the gig."

"Don't worry," I told him vehemently, "I don't plan on going anywhere."

*

In a shocking turn of events, I actually kept my word and didn't leave the apartment.

Yesterday had worn me out and run me completely dry. I had no interest in going outside to face the music press – I'd had enough of that for a lifetime. Even though I was dying for my mid afternoon flat white, I contented myself with dry coffee from the pot on the counter and walled myself up in the music room.

There I spent the day perfecting chord progressions and daydreaming of putting a rough take of these songs onto tape in a real recording studio. I might have just spent months with Fly Way recording, but it felt like an eternity since I'd put down anything myself. The time I'd taken away from making my own music had been intentional at first, though there had been some definite writer's block to help the delay; I'd wanted to miss it. And I did miss it. I just wasn't sure if I missed the rest of the bullshit that came with making an album, but maybe that was just because I'd been touring with short breaks for the past eight years of my life.

In the music room I allowed myself no distractions, putting my phone on silent when both Will and Jake tried to contact me. Well that might have been a lie. I allowed myself one distraction and that was Nick. He called when he landed, as promised as always, and he sounded sufficiently plane fucked. He talked about the shows that he was going on to promote his album, and I shared whatever insights I had on the hosts.

After that I went back to tinkering around on the guitar until it was time for the gig.

And what a gig it was.

From the moment we walked out on that stage, I felt the reservation of the audience. It felt like it was back to when I was a kid and no one in the crowd believed in me when I started to play. Back then I'd been able to win them over, but now it didn't matter how my band and I played, there was nothing I could to get them fully on my side. No amount of shouting and kicking the mic stand could get them going. It was like someone had draped a wall of ice between the crowd and I.

Usually I could see myself reflected back in the eyes of the audience – like somehow they all held a little shard of myself in them. The people I played for were usually around my age and I could feel their emotions in the sound they pushed back at me.

But this time it was practically silent. They stood almost eerily still, grudgingly watching the show.

It was something I'd never felt before. Even the most hostile of crowds I'd been able to bend to my will. And it wasn't my band or my fault – we were playing fucking great. As I poured my guts out into my guitar I couldn't silence Maureen's voice in my head, whispering, 'Who's going to be able to trust you when they find out how many secrets you really had?'

It was disheartening to think that she may have already won before I even got a word in.

I walked off the stage sweaty and unsatisfied with a frown cutting into my face. My band were all wearing bleak expressions – except for Fiona who was doing nothing to mask her distaste as she glowered in my direction. And yet I preferred that to the way John couldn't even bring himself to make eye contact with me.

But I always had Brad. He was waiting only a couple strides away from the door with a crisp white towel. It was only after I'd wiped some of the sweat away from my face that he tossed me a pack of smokes.

That put the first smile on my face since before the show.

With a mock salute in his direction, I took the smokes and towel back to my dressing room.

And I stayed there. It wasn't really a conscious decision. At first I took my time changing out of my disgusting stage clothes, and even poured myself out a soothing gin and tonic as I smoked the tension away in my shoulders.

It wasn't until I was sitting on the couch with a pile of cigarette butts steadily growing in the ash tray that I realized I was stalling.

I only shrugged. There wasn't someone to go home to, and I couldn't bring myself to face anyone at the moment, let alone the press and fans that were surely waiting outside to shout whatever was on their mind at me. I didn't even want to see anyone from the crew and see the judgement in their eyes.

I'd had enough experience being a pariah to know I couldn't face them with a straight spine right now. Listening to the bustle backstage, I lit another smoke and even poured myself another drink.

It wasn't like I was even managing to keep myself busy. No, I was just sitting silently on the ratty backstage couch with a smoke between my fingers and a drink in my hand.

The music we always had pumping in the venues had been turned off. The last stragglers from the gig must have been long gone.

And yet here I was going through every moment, breath, and chord that had been played onstage to make up that pathetically mediocre show. I wanted to know if there was something more I could've done to make them have faith in me again. But I couldn't see what, my throat felt raw from throwing everything I had into the songs and my hands were aching.

That's where I got stuck; on an endless loop of wondering and wishing I could've done and been more for them. That was until my phone buzzed against my thigh, and when I saw Mark's name above the text I picked it up.

There was no greeting or pleasantries, of course. It got right into the thick of it, 'This happened about an hour ago and you should probably watch it' and there was a link.

With a frown creasing between my brows, I took a deep drag before pressing on it.

It took me directly to a video, and my frown only deepened at the sight of Seth. Not even bothering to read the title of the video, I quickly tapped the play button, letting the screen fill up entirely with him. Seth looked uncharacteristically somber. When he did interviews he either carried an air of insolence of complete disinterest – it was probably the reason people thought he came off as arrogant when he just really didn't like dealing with the pop culture press.

Usually he would be sprawled out, but now he was sitting forward in his chair with his hands clasped before him. He was wearing his normal uniform; leather jacket, jeans and a band shirt – this time it was Hole. His hair was absolutely wild, though. It looked as if he'd just stumbled in from a windstorm, but I knew better.

The lens flipped from Seth to another man in glasses that gave off an air of panic and confusion about him. Instantly I began to lose interest in him, but then he spoke up.

"I'm at a bit of a loss here," he admitted. Obviously I'd jumped somewhere mid video, missing all that pointless chitchat that happened at the beginning of interviews. "Your agent was insistent to get you in here at the last minute, but he refused to tell me what the urgency was about."

Seth smiled, but it looked half hearted and far away from his eyes. "It's so we could get ahead of the story," he answered, almost offhanded.

That didn't do anything to quell the anxiety resting on the man's face sitting in the armchair across from him. In fact for a brief moment I thought he might've pouted before he cleared his expression, and said, "So I guess all I can ask is, what story are you trying to get ahead of?"

The camera lens focused back in on Seth, and instantly I could feel the blood pulsing in my ears when his eyes flicked up to the camera. Even though I was sure every other person that had watched the video felt the same, I still felt as if he was looking directly at me instead of through a phone screen. His eyes were dark and serious, even if his shoulders were slumped in a sort of paradoxical irreverence.

It was a testament to his sheer presence that I suddenly felt as if breathing was impossible, and yet I would've picked him over air in that quick flash of a moment.

Then his gaze shifted to look at the man on the other side of the camera, and when he took a deep breath, I copied the action. "Maureen Jones has this idea that she can blackmail me with the fact I was a heroin addict when The Spares broke up," Seth said as if he was indifferent about it.

In the moment of silence, the camera looked back to the man across from Seth. The only of his shock at the comment was his wide eyes behind his glasses. Well, maybe the bigger sign was the fact he couldn't think of a response, mouth opening and closing almost comically. Finding its host intensely uninteresting in comparison, the camera slid back over to Seth where he started to speak again after finding that no one else was going to pipe up.

"Maureen kept that secret more than any other person," he continued almost thoughtfully. "I never exactly tried to hide anything, I was too out of it to give a shit. And if Keely lied about any of it, it was only to protect me. But Maureen still called Keely out to meet her, ambushed her with paps, and then told her that if we didn't stop talking about her in the press, she would tell everyone about me."

Finally the interviewer seemed to find his voice, and pointed out, "Historically, you've never been bothered to refute stories that go around about you, even the more damaging ones."

"This is different," Seth told him instantly. "Maureen Jones is a hypocrite that will do anything to get what she wants, and I always kind of liked that about her in a weird way. She's ruthless and I understood that. My band was always better than me though, they trusted her. And I can't bring myself to let it go that she's hurt them like that."

Seth's expression hardened, and only then did he straighten and I could see the steel hardening in his spine as his eyes met the camera again. My throat was beginning to feel alarmingly tight.

"I don't care about me. I'm not here to salvage my reputation, that's been fucked for a long time. She can put out whatever types of photos or stories she wants," Seth said honestly, "That's not why I'm here. I've never claimed to be a good person, and there are things I have to make up for, but having an addiction is not one of them. And to be honest, it's not anyone's fucking business. I'm only here because Maureen is doing her best to hurt the people I care about, and she's trying to use me to do it."

Now I could feel the pulse beating a bruise into the tender skin of my throat, and my eyes were burning, but I couldn't look away. Not when Seth leaned towards the camera, his expression serious and eyes dark, all menacing charisma.

"I have things I have to apologize for," he stated plainly. "The biggest one being that it was my fault The Spares broke up, even if Will and Jake didn't understand why, and that I allowed Keely to take the blame because she's always been loyal to a fault. But I wouldn't waste a breath on Maureen Jones."

Before I could finish up with the video there was a gentle knock on the door, and I tossed my phone away from me like a thief caught in the act. It skidded along the worn out cushions just as a head peaked inside the door.

Luke's bright blue eyes met mine, but then he immediately glanced away. If I hadn't been too concerned about hiding my own actions, I might've thought that was a bit suspicious. As it was, I was too busy scrambling around to make sure my phone wasn't playing Seth's voice aloud anymore. That would be horrifically embarrassing. I couldn't be found watching videos of my ex while drinking and smoking.

"Everyone's gone," he told me as I gathered up my thankfully quiet phone. "The crew packed up the stage; Brad just needs to get in here to pack up."

I raised my eyebrows, taking one last bitter drag of my cigarette that was right down to the filter before stubbing it out needlessly in the ashtray. "And he sent you to kick me out because you're too pretty for me to bite your head off?"

Luke's cheeks flushed a deep red before he started stuttering, "No – it wasn't – no –"

The first smile pulled across my mouth since I spoke to Mark this morning that wasn't about cigarettes, and I had to put him out of his misery. "I'm just teasing you," I told him soothingly as I stood, shoving my phone into my back pocket.

Without wasting a moment I grabbed my back pack that I'd lugged around to every show for longer than I could remember, but I made sure to tuck the unopened pack of smokes that Brad had left in change room into the bag. I wasn't about to go anywhere unprepared at the moment.

He waited patiently, holding the door open for me and hurried ahead of me, making sure he lead the way.

Staring intently at the back of his head, I asked, "So, do you hate me too?"

"Nah," Luke said easily without bothering to turn around, "I know that you know what you're doing."

The tension in my shoulders slunk away, at least a little. It probably shouldn't have meant so much, but even to know I had Seth, Nick and Luke in my corner was a lot. Even if the interview Seth did nothing to sway the fans, I would be okay with a few people sticking by me. And ideally those people would include Jake and Will, but I wasn't in the emotional headspace to deal with them quite yet.

For a minute I'd been content just following Luke along, but then I realized we weren't going to the back alley where Brad always arranged to have a cab waiting for me. "Why are we going up to the bar?"

The question turned out to be too late, because Luke was already pulling open a door that would lead to floor level right beside the stage.

Frowning, I followed him through, wondering if he'd been lying to me all along and this was really the way I died. It would make for a story, but I wished he'd have waited a couple more months and then I could have joined the club.

There were only a couple lights on, one behind the bar and one behind the stage, leaving the empty dance floor looking decrepit without anyone crowding on it. My eyebrows were still drawn together in confusion as I stepped out and started to think that maybe I really was right about Luke being about to murder me, and then I heard an echoing guitar.

Spinning around, the frown fell away from my face as I watched Seth step up to the lone microphone stand on the stage, an acoustic guitar strapped over his shoulders. He was still wearing the same clothes as the interview, though he now had a bandana wrapped around his wrist. He'd clearly done it himself since it looked haphazard and not like it was giving much support.

Then he began to sing a familiar song, and a reluctant smile was dug out of me where I stood frozen in the middle of the empty dance floor. "Did you stand there all alone? Oh, I cannot explain what's going down. I can see you standing next to me." He stopped playing for just a short second in order to point at me, and I couldn't help that I let out a surprised laugh and then he started playing again, never missing a beat. "In and out, somewhere else right now. You sigh, look away. I can see it clear as day. Close your eyes, so afraid. Hide behind that baby face. Do-do-do, do-do-do."

I glanced around finding that Luke was nowhere to be seen, and there wasn't another soul in the room. But the look only lasted a moment. I could barely bare to look away from Seth when he was on stage. "You can drive all night, looking for answers in the pouring rain. You wanna find peace of mind, looking for the answer." And the whole time he was singing the song up the stage; his eyes were fixed on me down below.

The smile on my face was starting to hurt.

"Funny how it seems like yesterday. As I recall, you were looking out of place. Gathered up your things and slipped away. No time at all, I followed you out into the hall. Cigarette daydream, you were only eighteen," he sang, altering the lyrics slightly to fit my age when we'd met and my chest felt hot. "So sweet with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees. Do-do-do, do-do-do."

Unable to help myself, I put my hands over my mouth, watching him with an alarming warmth in my chest.

"You can drive all night, looking for answers in the pouring rain. You wanna find peace of mind, looking for the answer." He was wearing an almost half smile, but it reminded me so much of how he used to look at me that it hurt. "If we can find a reason, a reason to change, looking for the answer. If you could find a reason, a reason to stay, standing in the pouring rain."

Without thinking about my actions, I walked over to the stairs at the side of the stage, unable to keep away from him. Seth narrating my walk with the gentle, "Do-do-do, do-do-do..." And he kept his eyes on me the whole time. I only stopped when I got up to the stand in the dead middle of the stage. It was where we always found each other – on the opposite side of a microphone stand. For once I just stood there, and took him in staring across at me as he sang the last chorus.

"You can drive all night, looking for answers in the pouring rain. You wanna find peace of mind, looking for the answer," he sang quietly enough that it felt as if we were just having a conversation with a melody. "If we can find a reason, a reason to change, looking for the answer. If you could find a reason, a reason to stay, standing in the pouring rain."

The song ended, and we just stood there in the abrupt silence that always felt worse when there had just been music, Seth's chest moving quicker than mine after singing the song. The smile on my face was beginning to fade.

I tilted my head slightly as I looked up at him, almost thoughtful. "If this is some kind of apology, I don't need it," I told him gently.

"I thought you would feel you deserved one," Seth returned immediately.

My lips twitched, and he smiled back slightly at me. "Deserve one? Of course I do. That's not really the point between us, though," I pointed out. "Didn't we say that we'd never forgive each other?"

Seth ran a hand through his hair absently, and said, "Never could end up being forever."

"What's forever between you and me?"

A small smile turned his lips, and I noticed that he'd already caught his breath without much trouble as he looked across to me. "Will and Jake are beside themselves that you won't return their calls."

"It's not their fault," I admitted. "How could they know how to react when they didn't know the whole story?"

"They were being assholes though," Seth said fairly.

Unable to help myself, I snorted, and agreed, "They really were."

Seth looked as if he was about to say something, but before he could say any words I wasn't sure I wanted to hear if the soft expression on his face was anything to go by, my phone mercifully began to ring.

His expression shifted slightly, and all the sudden it was the same Seth Ryan everyone else saw but had never been reserved for me. It was amazing how slight that difference had become. Back when we'd been kids, Seth Ryan and Seth Vaughn had felt like completely different people. Ryan was the hard edge saved for the press and people on the outside, while Vaughn was the one Colton, Marco and I had spent our days with. Now it was like the other side of a coin, only the smallest of signs of a difference available to the eye. I didn't know if it said that he was more at peace with the world around him, or less at peace with me.

So he only said, "Well they'll be happy to know you're letting them off easy."

"Who says that?" I scoffed, digging out my phone. "They were still jerks."

Despite the words shared between us, I knew that it wasn't either of those boys calling. I'd specifically made Mark's ringtone The Bitch Is Back for this very moment. And it made me laugh. One day, somehow, he would find out how I'd personally branded him, and I was sure he'd be delighted. However I had more pressing matters, like why was he calling so late? It had to be long past midnight.

"Hi Mark," I answered the phone almost hesitantly, "I watched that video, don't worry." I couldn't help that my gaze flicked over to Seth, peeking from beneath my lashes, to find him watching me with a little frown.

"Video?" he asked, sounding distracted and breathless all at the same time. "Oh the interview Seth did? I don't give a fuck about that right now."

The undercurrent of sheer enthusiasm in Mark's voice had me frowning. He'd sounded so absolutely discouraged when I'd talked to him this morning, and he had probably been dealing with a whole shitload of drama because of me. Not to mention he was a perennially early riser, meaning he tried never to be out past eleven, even at parties and only grudgingly stayed if he thought he might need to get me out of trouble, so I'd never spoken to him this late in our whole relationship.

Seth's head was tilted slightly as he looked at me, and I could feel the question of what was happening radiating off of him. I only shrugged helplessly. "What's going on with you?" I asked, keeping up eye contact with Seth.

"Keely, you were right," Mark said excitedly.

Without thinking, I replied easily, "I'm always right."

Across from me Seth made a big show of rolling his eyes to the ceiling, and I answered just as childishly by sticking my tongue out at him.

Since Mark couldn't see any of that, he only scoffed at my proclamation before rushing forwards with the news he was clearly dying to get out of himself. "Will only just turned twenty six!" he exclaimed like it was life changing news.

The frown only deepened and I paused before replying, "I know that, I told you that this morning."

"No, no, no," he said hurriedly, "You don't get it. Will is only twenty six; he's a year younger than you."

"Are you okay Mark?" I asked, a sincere worry beginning to colour my voice. "I can get help for you if you're having a mental break. It would be understandable considering the shit I've been putting you through for years now."

"Oh my god, you can be dense sometimes," Mark complained, but it did nothing to dampen the animation in his voice. "Do you really not get it?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "You're acting like a crazy person and I don't know what you're going on about."

At that he gave a long sigh, and said, "I didn't think I was going to have to spell it out for you. When you lot signed The Spares' recording and management contracts, Seth and Jake were twenty one, you were eighteen, but Will was still seventeen."

"Yeah, so?" I asked impatiently.

The sigh he gave this time was almost theatrical. "You were all consenting adults, except Will, and he still signed as an adult even though he was a minor. He needed a legal guardian to sign for him, and Maureen and her lawyer should have known that. It's some serious negligence to have let that happen and we can easily prove it."

Finally what he was telling me was starting to make sense, and I found my eyes widening as I looked across at Seth.

Seth, sensing something serious was going on, asked impatiently, "What's going on?"

Ignoring the man in front of me, I said, "What does that mean to us? Won't it be Will who's going to get in trouble for signing something like that when he was underage?"

"Will is going to get in trouble," Mark admitted, "But I think more of the blame will lay on his manager who should've been in control of the sort of contract he was about to sign. Not to mention the lawyer that was present to represent all parties. This isn't your guys' fault. And while I don't necessarily believe it's enough to make the contract void, it's more than enough to get Maureen and her team in a room to negotiate this privately. It's not going to be a good look for UAE if it gets out that she's been signing minors illegally and taking advantage of them."

"So have you gotten in a contact with them?" I asked, and some of Mark's excitement must have leaked into me, because there was a new quaver to my voice.

And Seth was looking absolutely thunderous, knowing something important was happening on that phone line and that he could only hear one side of it. I tried smirking at him, but it came out as a radiant smile instead. And that took the edge of the dark look that he'd been sending me, and in that slight softening, he was Seth Vaughn again.

"I just sent them an email," Mark replied, his tone bubbly again now that we were in understanding. "I've requested a meeting early tomorrow morning, late notice or not, I'm going to get them in a room with Stephen and I."

"Should we be there too?" I asked, sharing an excited look with Seth that I was sure he couldn't understand.

However Mark just laughed at me. "Look what's been happening with you lot in a room with Maureen! It's never good. It'll be easier with just me and a lawyer, less emotions that she can toy with. It's just a meeting in hopes to get negotiations started now we have leverage; I'm hoping we can settle outside of a courtroom."

"You'll come tell us everything that happened right after?" I asked. Surprisingly I wasn't worried about not being there. In fact, I would've paid to see the look on Maureen's face when a lawyer and agent showed up in our place. She was the queen of playing with my emotions, something she'd already proved easily, and I could only imagine the mind games she would try to play with me now that she knew we had some ground to stand on.

"I'll come meet you all at the warehouse," Mark assured me. "Nothing is solved yet, but there might be light at the end of the tunnel. I'm with Stephen now so I've got to go; we're prepping for the meeting."

"I think I'm in love with you now," I told him, only slightly joking.

Mark laughed loudly before disconnecting the call.

And then I found myself alone with Seth again, and he was looking absolutely bewildered, having understood none of that conversation. His one hand was gripping the neck of his guitar too tightly to be comfortable, and the other one ran through his hair, making the front of it stick up in a way that had a rush of affection warming my stomach.

Instead of launching into an explanation, I just asked, "Do you want to go get pancakes with me?"

Seth blinked; still looking confused, but to his credit, only answered, "Sure."

*

We did get the pancakes.

The all night diner was almost empty, and our voices rang out, far too bright for three am. We got more than a few reproachful looks from the other patrons, but it did nothing to tame the sheer giddiness between us. It was the first time in longer than I could remember that I felt light.

We ate plates of pancakes and drank way too many cups of bad drip coffee, all the while talking about the lawsuit and all the wild ideas of what might happen.

In the end Seth drove me back to the apartment building, ignoring my protests that I could just call a cab, rationalizing that there was no point in a cab when he was somewhat heading in the same direction. Once in a while I knew better than to argue with him, and took him up on the ride.

We listened to the newest Lumineers album in relative silence during the drive, and I realized that there had been no apologies between us at all.

Somehow that was comforting.

I said a brief goodbye to Seth in the parking garage before heading up to the apartment, and I immediately went to the music room. I only paused long enough to shrug off my coat onto couch on my way by.

The caffeine was still buzzing its way through my bloodstream, and I got the feeling that none of us would be sleeping very well. Seth had texted both Jake and Will about the news, and despite the late hour they'd replied immediately only to be told we'd all meet at the warehouse tomorrow once Mark got a response to his demand for a meeting.

Even though the songs I'd written for my newest album were starting to pile up in earnest, I found myself sitting cross legged on the rug with my guitar on my lap with a tune stuck in my head. The music was coming quicker than the words, and I dragged the sounds in my head into the guitar, plucking out the chords until they rang true with what I heard. I retrieved my song book, writing down the melody carefully in front of me, stopping to replay the progression over and over again to make sure what I was writing was true.

Almost in afterthought, I jotted down words above it. 'I wish I could say we're the same, but the years can't help the scars. I can't find a place for the blame, so I'll tuck it away into our guitars. How can it be that I still don't know your name?'

Only once the light started to fill the widow in the room did the sheer weight of the day begin to weigh down on my shoulders. Or maybe the caffeine was finally starting to wear thin. Whatever it was had me yawning. So I shuffled my way down the hall, kicking off my jeans in the door way of my bedroom and crawled up on the made bed in only my baggy concert shirt.

*

I didn't get to sleep long, though; the equal amount of anxiety and excitement had my couple hours of sleep fitful at best.

Even though I woke up groggy and disorientated – something two hours worth of sleep could do for a person – I still had the peace of mind to find my cellphone first thing. And there was a message from Mark right at the top. He'd texted the group chat, the message reading, 'They want to meet us at 12, so I'll meet you guys for the low down at the warehouse at around two.'

It was a bit of a rude surprise when I realized I was going to have to make my own coffee. I'd gotten far too used to Nick having a pot brewing whenever I stumbled my way out of the bedroom in the morning. His absence hit me in the chest hard enough to leave me breathless.  Suddenly the apartment felt like a cavernous empty place without his warmth filling up the rooms.

I had to stand there, hand braced against the kitchen counter, to catch my breath. And I looked over living room, full of things that didn't belong to me. The hostile crowd and the news that Mark and Stephen might be able to get us out of UAE's grasp alive had been enough to distract me from the piece in my chest that felt torn without him there.

There had been no lie when I'd told him I didn't know how to live without him anymore.

Drawing in a deep breath, I reminded myself that I'd told him I would be okay without him for a couple weeks. I was a strong woman at this point in my life. And I knew that I could never be as dependent on someone as I'd allowed myself to be with Seth, because when he'd taken off like a thief in the night, I'd barely survived it.

Nick wasn't leaving me. We both had careers outside of one another, and travelled for them, and I was going to have to get used to the fact that I wasn't the only one that went away. It was always harder being the one left behind.

Having sufficiently gathered myself together, I went and made my own coffee, staring out into space as it brewed.

Unlike in the early morning when I'd gotten back from the diner, I couldn't get myself lost in the song I'd been writing, unable to sit still long enough to play even one chord. My mind kept drifting. It kept finding its way to wondering how Mark was preparing for the meeting, wanting to call Nick to tell him everything that had happened but then resisting because I wanted to let him know the full story, thinking about when the boys were going to show up at the warehouse and if Seth was going to bring Claire.

There were far too many things floating around in my head to continuing working on the somehow upbeat melody with the mournful lyrics.

It didn't take long for me to decide that it was a waste of time sitting around here. It wasn't even eleven yet, but I could go get coffee and then get to the warehouse early. I wouldn't mind getting there before the rest of the boys; I wanted to have a search through the vinyl anyways. Whenever I was making a new album, I liked to grab a bunch of vinyls that matched the sound and feel of what I was going for with the album, always looking for more inspiration. It was like a mood board but for my ears. Seth and I had started doing that way back when we were writing the first Spares' album and it was something I never let go of.

Showering didn't take long, and despite the paparazzi camped outside my building, neither did speeding away in a cab. The line for coffee was blissfully short, too. The only time I wasn't already late and everything went my way. It was almost frustrating.

So when I reached the warehouse, I was still more than two hours early. I was going to have all the time in the world to see what albums I wanted to pilfer away.

However the moment I swung the creaking door open, juggling the coffees in my hands for ease, I knew I wasn't alone.

There was a split second I thought I was being ridiculous as my eyes scanned the open area to find no one in sight. Maybe I was going crazy enough to think the warehouse had a personality of its own. And then a dark mop of hair popped up from the other side of the couch and I couldn't help the fact I jumped, startled at the appearance. 

And then I was frowning at Seth as I kicked the door shut behind me, ungainly to the end, hands too full to use.

"You're here early," I said almost accusatorily.

Seth just frowned back at me, and returned, "So are you?"

That was enough to have me pausing – he did have a point. "I didn't know what else to do with myself," I admitted, "I couldn't write or even think a full thought with this meeting hanging over my head. So I figured I'd rather waste time here than anywhere else."

The defensive look on Seth's face smoothed away as he sat up properly. His one hand went up, musing his hair reflexively before he slung his black shirt clad arm over the couch so he could lean properly over the back of the couch. "I have to give this book back to Claire before Monday," he said, holding up a book that, of course, I didn't recognize. It was a plain cover with that read The Lowland. "But I can't focus; I keep reading the same page over and over again, so I thought I might as well get distracted here."

While he was speaking I had a split second where I almost thought I was twenty again, walking into the warehouse after a coffee run. It wasn't hard to suspend belief for a short second if I wanted, especially with Seth waving a book in front of my face with bloodshot eyes and a soft look on his face. It was a déjà vu moment I'd already a thousand times by now. Somehow it didn't even matter that the book he was talking about belonged to his new girlfriend, I couldn't help that any irritability drifted away from me at that.

It was hard to be annoyed at him for pre-emptively stealing my hiding space when he looked just like the boy I remembered him as, the one I'd never really fallen out of love with.

"So, am I just going to be another thing distracting you if I stay here?" I asked thoughtfully.

Seth just laughed at the question, the noise was almost incredulous. He dropped the book on the back of the couch as he answered, "You've been distracting me since I was twenty one. I don't think that's about to change anytime soon. But I think I can handle it." There was a fair amount of sarcasm tacked on there.

Although I rolled my eyes lightly, I still stepped forward to hold out the cappuccino I had brought for him. "It's a good thing I brought you coffee then," I said with an answering mocking tone of my own. "I didn't think I'd be giving it to you for a while, though."

Seth took the coffee from my hands willingly, but instead of any sign of gratefulness, he just stared down at the lid with a troubled look.

"It's not poisoned," I said pointedly with my eyebrows raised.

"No, no, it's not that," he said hurriedly before abruptly away from me.

That irritability from before almost came back with a fury right then – all I was trying to do was be nice! I thought we were still trying to be friend, albeit with definite setbacks. Had I missed something crucial last night?

Before I had the chance to snap at him, Seth straightened from where he had leaned over to the coffee table, and he held out a different disposable mug to me. "It's just that I got you a coffee, too," he explained.

"Oh," I answered, a little dumbfounded as I reached out to take the offering. And once again my hands were full with coffee. I could see the marker where the barista had written 'FW' on the side. It gave me a funny feeling in my chest.

He just answered, "Yeah."

Wearing a frown, I looked back up to Seth and asked, "So what do we do if –"

"– If Jake and Will show up early and we haven't gotten them anything but we have two coffees each?" Seth interrupted me, but thankfully it was with the exact question I'd been about to ask him. "I was just wondering that."

I glanced down at the coffees again before taking a long drink from the one I'd already starting in on, the I looked back at Seth. "I guess if they show up before we finish our first, we give them the second string. Otherwise we hide the evidence. You snooze, you lose, right?"

My words had a grin curling up the edges of Seth's mouth and he replied, "Yeah, I think that's how the saying goes."

With a little shrug, I moved further into the warehouse and took another long chug of the coffee. Suddenly I was determined that I was going to have both coffees. Regrettably I put the second cup down on the rickety end table beside the arm chair as I passed. I wasn't one to double fist coffee, sadly. Not yet at least.

Feigning casualness, I meandered my way towards the far wall, toes dragging and eyes travelling over everything lazily as if I was trying to decide what to do. I reached out, letting my fingers trail over the guitars on the wall as I made my way to the records. It looked as if Seth had added even more to the collection, as if it was multiplying every day. I paused, running my hands along them thoughtfully as if I was just looking for something to distract me, but there was a stab of guilt in my stomach.

It wasn't like I was doing anything that wrong! Seth had stolen more than a few of my albums when he'd packed up his stuff, and he'd just thrown them into storage where no one was going to listen to them for years. That was a hell of a lot worse than anything I was planning to do. At least they were going to be listened to with me.

Anyways, I wasn't stealing them. It was borrowing at worst. I only wanted to make a musical landscape for the inspiration of my new album, a starting point of what I wanted to create.

I ran my fingers delicately along the spines of the records before picking one at random, and I grimaced the moment I recognized the album. Not because I thought it was a bad fit, but because I was instantly reminded that it wasn't an easy thing to pick out what I wanted my inspirations to be. It was only hard because it was difficult to keep it under fifty albums. I just liked music too much.

And The White Album had been in every music inspiration stack I'd made since Seth and I had started doing this all that time ago. It still worked for everything, though. It had a bit of everything. It just had to be there. It was a time honoured tradition at this point. I couldn't have a sound board without Helter Skelter.

"What are you doing?" asked Seth, sounding more than a little suspicious behind me.

I glanced back to see him on the couch, the book open in his hands but his eyes were trained on me sceptically, and I quickly looked back at the album in my hands. So much for looking innocent. "Nothing," I said in a voice that was all too calm, a clear sign of guilt. "I'm just looking at the albums."

When I didn't hear anything in response, I let out a little breath in relief. Maybe I'd gotten away with it. And I laid the Beatles album aside before digging in with vigour.

The next album I pulled out was Aretha's I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You.

I barely deliberated a second before laying it on top of the Beatles album.

"You've never been good at lying."

Seth's voice all the sudden came from immediately behind me, and I couldn't help that I jolted violently with my hands dug into the albums, only proving his point. I must've looked like a thief with my hands in the cookie jar. But I hadn't heard so much as a scuff of his shoes on the floor. My heart had lodged itself in my throat from the shock of the moment.

So I just sent him a dirty look over my shoulder. Yet Seth just looked right back, standing barely a full step behind me, eyebrows raised with no sense of shame. He'd never been easily shamed, and it wasn't like he had any reason now. Since he'd brought his vinyl out of storage, most of them belonged to him. My eyes shifted slightly and I saw that that book was lying open on the couch. When I looked back at him I found him almost looking amused, but he still had a definite amount of doubt that he had me fixed with.

Pretending to be exasperated, I let out a huff of breath and yanked out another album. "I'm just looking," I repeated, finding that I now had One By One. "You're supposed to be reading, I was just trying not to get in the way."

"When have you ever tried not to be in the way?" Seth speculated aloud.

Figuring that it was a rhetorical question, I just sent him another glower, which only seemed to brighten his mood further. So I specifically turned away as I thought over the album in my hands. Almost feeling guilty like I was betraying a friend deeply, I put the vinyl back on the shelf. I was going to have to make some difficult choices here and that was just the first of many. It wasn't what I was going for.

However that move gave me away to Seth, because he gave a theatrical gasp. "You're making a sound stack," he said, sounding pleased with himself for figuring it out. Then there was a pause, before he added accusatorily, "With my albums."

"They're not all yours!" I said quickly, grabbing the next album blind before I spun around to look at him. "Half of them are like public domain."

I'd been prepared for an argument, but there was a beat of a moment where we looked at each other and then Seth was laughing. "Tell you what, that one's all yours," he said with a nod to the album I had hugged to my chest. "I just didn't imagine you were making a hair album."

Confused, I glanced down only to find that I was holding Stay Hungry. Jutting my chin out determinedly, I tucked the album right back where I'd found it. "It's a classic album in its own right," I replied tightly, "But it's just not what I'm going for."

Seth only smirked back in the face of my attempt at being superior before he stepped up beside me, taking a long sip from the mug in his hand. I watched him suspiciously but he didn't spare me another glance. Instead his eyes travelled up and down the spines in front of us. Then he reached out – with far too much confidence, in my opinion – and pulled out an album. Still without looking in my direction he held out the album to me.

And I winced when I immediately recognized Lou Reed's Transformer. It was another album that had been in every musical inspiration pile we'd made – a quintessential New York City album. How could I ever turn it down?

Almost sheepishly I took it from him to add it to the sound stack.

"So does this mean you're planning on recording another album?" Seth asked, sounding far too pointedly casual for it to be real. His eyes were still fixed straight ahead.

So I followed his lead in continuing to just stare at the albums. "Robert's been getting antsy about it for a while, but it took me a while to get the songs together. I think I have enough now. And it is exciting to think that it's my third album with System, and that means after this I'm free from my contract with them."

"Why did you ever sign with them?" The question was asked when Seth picked up Oracular Spectacular, held it out in a moment of deliberation and then put it back down. I had to silently agree with his decision there, even if I did it silently. And then he continued, "You don't seem to have any love for him or the label."

With a shrug, I ran my fingers over the titles in front of me without really seeing them, thinking more about the question he'd posed. "They offered me a lot of money," I said bluntly, not really sure how to answer. "I don't mean to sound vapid, but it's true. I knew I needed to make an album and I wasn't really fussed about who I did it for. I'd only just hired Mark and he was already overrun with offers from all the major labels. System offered me full artistic freedom and tons of money to get me on their label. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Was it a good idea in the long run?"

"It's not been bad," I replied, tapping my fingers absently. "Robert's a bit of a dickhead and he tries to throw his weight around, but Mark had gotten it in writing that I'm the only one that gets a say in the music I put out. So I guess I got what I wanted."

That had Seth quiet for a long moment, and when I stole a glance at him, there was a slight frown on his face as if he was thinking quite deeply.

Then he held out Achtung Baby to me, asking, "Have you decided where you're going to record?"

I shook my head surely at the album in his hand before reaching over him to pluck out The Joshua Tree instead and dropping it in the ever growing stack. Seth made a face, but it was half hearted at best. We both knew I'd picked out the better album.

"Mark has me booked in for studio time pretty soon at this little place in Soho," I told him. Oddly I almost felt reluctant to admit that even though there was no reason for it. Why did it suddenly feel awkward to talk to him about studios and recording? Our whole relationship was built on that. "It's a pretty small place, but I needed to get out of that basement in a building with Robert. This place is dark too, and it seems like that's a bit of a tradition for me these days."

Instead of asking me another question, Seth held out another record, but this time he finally looked at me while he did it. And a smile lit up my face when I saw it was Don't Sweat the Technique.

"Now you're getting it," I said teasingly as I grabbed the album from him.

When Will and Jake showed up, perfectly on time, they found us still parked out by the vinyl and long done our spare coffees. I was sitting cross legged on the floor among all the record while Seth stood. The pile of records had grown alarmingly fast since he had gotten involved and I was beginning to think that there was no way I was going to stay under fifty with him. And he was continuing to pill out albums with an enthusiasm that was almost unnerving.

We were too busy bickering over albums by The Stooges to notice them entering. Seth was offended by the idea that I thought only Raw Power should be in the sound stack, and he was arguing too loudly about their first album being a classic to hear that I was agreeing with almost everything he said. Not that my agreement changed anything. It didn't change my point that I only had so many albums that I wanted to use. Yes, The Stooges were the godfathers of punk and absolute gods in my opinion, but no band got two albums in this stack.

I was already almost bending my own rules by allowing Lust for Life in the pile. Not even one member of the Beatles had gotten a solo album, though I knew I could be easily convinced to make an exception for All Things Must Pass. George Harrison had a sweet spot with me that none of the other Beatles could match.

"I feel like I'm having déjà vu," Will called out loudly to announce their arrival.

It did have us shutting up quickly, gazes snapping towards the boys that had entered without our notice. Seth scoffed loudly, but he did drop the Stooges' self titled debut back where he'd grabbed it, so small victories, I supposed.

"Is it déjà vu when you have literally lived through it before?" Jake asked the room rhetorically as he edged around the couch so he could get to where we'd set up camp. There was a tray of coffees in his hand, and I eyed him warily. "I thought that it's only called that when it's the feeling."

While I watched them with an air of suspicion, Will hurried up after the older band mate, looking absurdly young today. It was something about the hunch in his shoulders and the baggy green hoodie he was wearing.

"I think the word for what you're being is pedantic," Seth said dryly.

Jake sent him a withering look as he came to a halt to which Seth just sent him a bland smile before turning away. And to my horror he walked away then, leaving me with Jake and Will. The fucking traitor.

Before I had the chance to say anything, Will snagged one of the coffees from the tray that Jake held and spun around to face me. His eyes met mine and he paused for a brief moment, probably reading the sheer distrust that I had him fixed with. The voices in my head were thundering, repeating all the things they'd said to me yesterday on a loop. And I just knew he could hear them too.

Wearing a pained expression he held out the coffee to me.

I just stared up at him blankly for a long moment.

In the past months there had been a lot of forgiveness done in silence. There had to be – we'd all done awful things to one another in the past. And maybe we should've spoken about it, opened up the wounds to the air in the chance that maybe they would finally heal properly. Betrayals and nasty words were old news between the four of us at this point, though.

So with a sigh, I reached out, taking what I knew to be a peace offering with limited reluctance. What were words between the four of us?

The smile that bloomed on Will's face was worth it, and he scrambled down to sit with beside me and began to look through the albums in earnest.

My eyes met Jake's as I took a sip of the latte. He was wearing a sheepish expression, and I only gave a little shrug. It hadn't been that long ago that they'd been forgiving me in silence after my outbursts at all of Will's birthday parties. By now it was par for the course.

"Are you making a sound stack?" Will asked excitedly as he picked up The Suburbs.

"I wasn't aware that we had such a consensus on the name," I said by way of an answer.

Jake instantly asked, "You're going in to record the new album?"

Before I had the chance to answer, Seth came wandering back, and now he had a sunburst Epiphone strapped on. "She is, and without I Wanna Be Your Dog," Seth answered for me as he played the riff to the song almost absentmindedly. "It's an affront to punk."

"That is kinda blasphemy," Will agreed, his big eyes on me.

Still I just rolled my eyes pointedly. "Yes, yes, yes, The Stooges is a fucking classic, and the first four tracks are ace. I just think that the entirety of Raw Power stands up better and is better for the album I want to make. Plus Bowie was involved. What album would you pick?"

Without a sign of hesitation, Will said, "Raw Power. No doubts."

The speed of his answer made me wonder if he was only agreeing to be on my good side.

"Neither," Jake said before I could call out Will. I glanced at him with my eyebrows up – that was a bold answer, was he saying no to any Stooges albums? He was the only one of us that had been in a real deal punk band. "I have to go with Funhouse. It's got the original line up, has real production and it opens with Down on the Street. Can't beat that."

Not even pausing a second, Seth switched to play the main riff from the song in question. "He makes some good points," he added as if his words were the afterthought. Then he added sarcastically, "It's almost like Jake is the only real punk rocker out of all of us."

This time I just eyed Seth exasperated. If the sheer amount of discussion going into picking out one album for my inspirational music was any foreshadowing of the making of this album, it was never going to be fucking finished. Did we used to talk this much?

"Okay," I began in the voice of someone about to die on a hill, "I would pick Funhouse over The Stooges, but I still think Raw Power is the best album. At least it has the best songs. I know the production was absolute shit, the rhythm section was treated like second class citizens and that's without getting into the debate between the Pop and Bowie mixes."

"Got to go with the Iggy mixes," Seth said quickly, "I know it's all overblown and crackly as shit, but it works."

Jake opened his mouth, a clear sign of disagreement on his face before he said a word.

"We are not getting into that argument right now," I said quickly, pointing at each of them warningly. "We will die of old age before we come to an agreement on that."

With a begrudging look on his face, Jake just muttered, "David Bowie did the best he could."

Only then did Seth pause playing the song from before, eyes narrowing on his friend, and I could see him preparing an argument in his head.

Before either of them could get in a word, I said loudly, "And we all know the way they recorded Funhouse shouldn't have worked either. But I'm not picking albums for their production values right now; I just want to listen to the songs, and fucking Gimme Danger, like come on. That's one of the best songs of all time, let alone just talking about The Stooges catalogue."

There was a long moment of silence where all three of the boys seemed to reluctantly accept my side of the argument. I actually heaved a sigh of relief. It was the first time Seth hadn't just bickered back instantly on whatever I said.

Replacing the Arcade Fire album in his hands for the one that was causing all the contention, Will looked through the track list thoughtfully. "Well, we know Keel's favourite song from them, what about you, Seth?"

All he needed to do to answer the question was say a song name, but it was Seth, so of course he could never do anything the easy way.

Instead he began to play a new song, and my eyebrows shot right up when I instantly recognized the chord progression. Maybe he hadn't wanted to admit the song aloud since it was from the album I had been fighting for the whole time. It wasn't the same without the overblown speakers and crackly guitar, but I knew it before he opened his mouth to sing.

"I'm a streetwalking cheetah with a heart full of napalm. I'm a runaway son of a nuclear A-bomb. I am the world's forgotten boy. The one who searches and destroys," Seth sang easily, looking down at his hands as he played from memory.

My eyes rolled so quickly it was almost dangerous. "The world's forgotten boy?" I repeated the lyrics incredulously back to him, making him halt his playing instantly. "You just got to told you won the artist of the decade. Forgotten my ass."

That surprised a laugh out of him.

"Is this all you guys do when I'm not here?" a voice called from the door of the studio, making it the third time I'd been snuck up on today. "No wonder you lot don't get anything done."

There was a pause as the four of us realized who was in the warehouse with us. All of our gazes snapping to where Mark had just walked through the door without our notice, looking far more put together than he ever bothered to do for us. The slacks and button up shirt were par for the course with Mark, but the tie only ever came out when we went to charity events or red carpets. And just as the thought crossed my mind, he yanked on it a bit violently.

"Well," he said, dropping his briefcase on the couch without ceremony when we remained frozen. "She can fucking argue, I'll tell you that."

Those words had us breaking out of our motionless states. Will and I scrambled to our feet as Jake tried to get around Seth who was yanking the guitar strap off himself, but he almost got impaled with head for his trouble. Will and I were the first ones to get to Mark with Jake following in just behind, Seth coming in last where he dropped the guitar on the couch beside the briefcase.

Mark just looked at us, and I couldn't help but notice the dark rings that came from sleeplessness around his eyes. His glasses only magnified the evidence of just how tired he was. I'd never seen him look like that, even at his most exasperated at me and my antics. My stomach knotted up – the foreboding sensation his appearance gave me was enough to make me queasy.

"And?" demanded Will.

There was a short pause, and then Mark sent us all a smile, it was bright if more than a little worn out.

For a moment I thought I was about to pass out from sheer relief.

Seth just cursed, "For fuck's sakes, Mark."

We all ignored him in favour of eyeing up my manager intently.

"They're willing to settle out of court," he said finally, putting us out of our misery. "I don't think it's going to be easy to come to a deal, and Maureen is going to fight tooth and nail –"

"You're not exactly making this seem like great news," Seth pointed out.

"But," Mark continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "I think we can get it done. With the contract you guys signed virtually void, and Maureen not wanting it to get around that she's signed children illegally and not just shadily, they don't really have a legal right to sell The Spares' music."

The boys all looked almost dazed at the news, and who could blame them? This had been months coming and now it was going to go away just that tidily?

"So that's it, it's going to be that easy?" I asked with a frown.

Mark bristled at my words, and answered sharply, "I just said it wasn't going to be easy. It's not a done deal yet, either. They could drag this out for months. They were already talking about breaches of contract and being paid monetary damages – Will is going to have to pay an astronomical penalty and you can bet Maureen will be counting every penny."

That awestruck look on Will's face faded at that, and suddenly he was extremely pale. It looked as if he was the queasy one now.

And just seeing that expression on my best friend's face had my protective side rearing it's head. I reached out and gripped his arm surely until his worried eyes met mine. "We'll split it," I said confidently, "Whatever number we have to pay, we'll split it four ways, just like always."

"It's my problem, Keel," Will answered weakly, "I was the one that signed underage."

"Because of that we're not going to have to go to court and have all our music sold," Seth said quickly. My eyes flicked over to him, but he was looking at Will as he reached out to squeeze his shoulder briefly. "Keely's right, we've split everything in four equal parts since the beginning, no reason to change that now."

"And we all knew you were underage," Jake pointed out, "None of us said anything either."

There was a hint of confusion on Mark's face as his eyes flicked between us before landing on me for a long moment, and I wondered if he was comparing the reactions he'd watched the other day with the one today. If he was thinking about that, he didn't say it aloud. Instead he looked back at Will. "Just out of curiosity, why did you sign it? You had only signed a contract with UAE the year before with guardian signatures."

"My aunt and uncle were never the easiest to deal with," Will answered in a way that was meant to be blasé, but I could see the undercurrent of discomfort. I gave him another sure squeeze where I still held his arm. "I'd turned seventeen what felt like ages before, and they were all the way down south. It was a lot of work to get them involved. It just felt easier to sign then, and I never gave it another thought until you put it together."

There was a moment of silence, and then Jake added wistfully, "Plus we were pretty fucking drunk."

"And we should do that again," Will said brightly.

"What?" I asked blankly, thrown at the sudden change of topic.

However Will just threw his arm around my shoulders and asked the group as a whole, "Party?"

That's when everyone broke out in laughter and relief, clapping each other on the backs and sighing loudly. Mark even threw his tie on the ground to the boys' delight. Jake swept me up in a big hug. And it was that chaotic happiness that I'd been so fond of at Nick's going away party, but this time I didn't have a warm feeling in my stomach. Instead I felt cold and distant.

Even as I hugged Jake back, all I could think was it couldn't be this easy.

*

Predictably we all ended up at The Cellar.

And of course we did shots up at the bar, dragging Mark in to be an honourary member of the band. We ignored his protests that if that included tequila shots that he didn't want to be thought of as one of us.

It almost might have felt run of the mill, drinking at the same bar we seemed to end up at for the smallest of excuses. Nothing really ever felt run of the mill with them, though. And there was an unbridled feeling of joy in the air that really was infectious. Will had called everyone we knew to come celebrate with us, on strict instructions from Mark that we could say we were settling with UAE but not the reasons why yet.

The sheer amount of affection I had for everyone in the room should've been enough to keep a smile on my face, let alone the news we'd received.

And I was smiling as I watched them celebrate, but there was something distant about it.

I was nursing a gin and tonic, sitting at one of the tables along the wall, watching the rest of them.

Will was dancing like a mad man with people on the dance floor having long passed tipsy while Jake held court with a bunch of admirers that were staring up at him with heart eyes. Then there was Claire and Seth, huddled together at the other end of the room so they could talk over the pounding music. His face was absolutely lit up as he spoke with her – it was like a thousand pound weight had been lifted off his back.

And how could I blame him for looking like that? As I watched he gestured wildly and Claire laughed so hard she threw her head back. We were getting out of this. All of the drama and the sheer agony of thinking that our music was going to be sold to the highest bidder and it was going to be over sooner rather later. They were going to be able to leave New York alive with whatever shreds we had left of our legacy intact.

A weight had been lifted.

I had to avert my eyes from them, the sheer lightness of them was starting to hurt my eyes, and I buried my face back into my drink. There was a hollow thudding feeling in my chest. And I was reminded that I missed Nick so much that it hurt, the sensation kept rushing back at odd moments between the chaos.

Then Mark swung into the picture, collapsing on the chair at my side and ruining my self imposed isolation. He didn't say anything right away, just breathing a sigh of relief at finding a calm spot in the eye of the storm. The song switched to Ugh! And the two of us watched companionably as Will danced about to the song with an added amount of vigour.

"Hey, boy, stop, pacing 'round the room. Using other people's faces as a mirror for you. I know your lungs need filling, since your gums have lost their feeling. But don't say that you're giving it up again."

My eyes trailed after him as he went around the dance floor, pulling people at random in to dance with him. There was a small smile turning up the edges of my mouth as I watched. That was until I saw where I noticed he was making his way to. And he almost bulldozed Seth when he went to hug him.

"And do you have a card? My irregular heart beat is starting to correct itself. It's just a simple diuretic that prevents the empathetic. From being just and giving it up."

Seth only stayed on his own two feet because of the wall behind him, but he didn't shove the younger man off who was clinging to him. Instead he only hugged Will back strongly and then laughed when Will planted a big kiss on his cheek.

"And you're the only thing that's going through my mind, taking over my life a second time. I don't have the capacity for fucking, you're meant to be helping me. When I said I said I liked it better without my money I lied. It took a little while to recognize that I, I'm not giving it up again."

It looked as if nothing could dampen their moods even as Will slung his arm around Claire's shoulder and pulled her into the fray as well. She too only laughed; twining her arm around his waist like it was second nature. Clearly she was used to that fact that Will's friendship came with more hugging than most people could deal with. However she didn't look like she minded as Seth and Will raised their drinks in the air, shouting along with the song as they swayed together.

"This conversation's not about reciprocation no more. But I'm gonna wait until you're finished so I can talk so more. About me and my things, my car, my living. And how I'm giving it up, giving it up again."

In fact she only eyed them fondly as she took a sip of her own water, letting herself be swayed slightly by their motion.

And then Jake came barrelling in from the other side of the bar – never one to be left out. At that Claire slipped away, correctly guessing that with the way they were behaving, she might accidently get an elbow to the face. Jake pushed himself between the other men, joining in the sway as if he'd been there all along.

"And you're the only thing that's going through my mind, taking over my life a second time. I don't have the capacity for fucking, you're meant to be helping me. When I said I said I liked it better without my money I lied. It took a little while to recognize that I, I'm not giving it up again."

I couldn't help the fact that there were tears suddenly pricking my eyes.

Why was I crying so fucking much lately?

Finally Mark spoke up from his seat beside me. "You're not exactly celebrating with everyone else," he said almost cautiously.

Trying to steady myself and avoid the tears, I brought my drink up to my mouth, but only then noticed that my hand was trembling. "It just seems impossible to me that it's going to be this easy," I replied, my voice suspiciously thick.

Instantly Mark leaned forwards and he took my hand, squeezing it so tightly that it hurt, but it was good and grounding. It was enough to make me look away from my boys celebrating and instead at him. He still looked tired, but there was a soft edge to him, like he too had had a weight lifted from his shoulders. Was I the only one feeling as if my burden had only been added to?

"It's not going to be easy, Keely," he told me surely, giving me another squeeze. This time the move was far gentler than before. "It's going to be a dirty fight and there are going to be so many meetings. Do you think Maureen Jones gives up on anything without a fight? Will might not have a penny to his name by the end, but I'm going to get it done, I promise. This whole thing is going to be over."

I knew he was trying to be comforting, but his words only had my eyes filling with tears again, and this time I couldn't stop them from falling. "Fuck," I muttered, wiping at my eyes uselessly to try and stop the flow. I'd always hated crying in front of people, but now it seemed like all I did. Why did I always have to be so fucking weak?

Hurriedly I looked away from Mark, ashamed with myself, but my eyes instantly latched onto where the three boys were singing a new song. They were still falling over each other but they were doing their best version of Vampire Weekend. It was pretty fucking terrible.

"Maybe that's the problem," I admitted, my voice barely over a whisper with my eyes still glued onto the boys. I was confessing something to Mark that I hadn't even been able to admit inside my own mind, and I couldn't stop my mouth from moving. "This is all going to be over in no time, and they're all going to leave me again."

My eyes flicked back to Mark and I could see the alarm and worry written plainly across his face. It was the look Nick fixed me with when I said something altogether too depressing. Mark shifted forwards, hand reaching out for mine again, but I stopped him with a shake of my head.

"Sorry, I'm making a scene," I muttered, wiping determinedly at my eyes. With a deep breath, I tried to collect myself and send a smile in his direction, but the tears were still leaking out. "Can you just let the guys know that I headed home so I could get some sleep?"

Mark opened his mouth, but I shook my head surely again, pushing up out of my chair.

"Its fine," I told him quickly, "I'll see you soon."

*

But of course I didn't go home to sleep.

How could I possibly sleep through all of that? I made a pit stop at the liquor store on my way back to the apartment, buying all the fixing to make myself gin and tonics at home. Nick had never really kept hard alcohol at his place, but I was going to need some tonight.

When I got home, I shrugged off my coat onto the kitchen counter carelessly before getting a glass for myself. Bartending had never been a strong suit of mine. I never bothered to measure, figuring my eye was good enough, and always liking my drinks on the stronger side. Jake or Seth had always been the ones that poured us our drinks, I was better at opening beers and pouring wine.

So when I took a sip of the gin and tonic I'd made, I predictably winced at the lack of tonic. Then I poured another slosh of gin into the glass before making my way to the music room.

It felt like I was in a fog, my body doing things that my mind couldn't account for, because before I knew it, I had The Velvet Underground and Nico playing before I could even think about it. Then I turned the volume up even further, probably making the neighbours hate me, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Watch out, the worlds behind you," sang Lou Reed in his best Nico impression.

At first I tried to play along to the songs, hoping that it might kick start something to get myself writing, but that didn't work. I tried flipping through my song book. It couldn't hold my attention. By then I had to go pour myself another drink.

Knowing I was being melodramatic, but unable to hold myself back, I pulled out all the notes Seth had written me since he'd come back. I'd known each time that he'd slipped me one that I should throw it away immediately. And yet I'd still kept them. I didn't know if I just had no willpower or if I was a glutton for punishment. All I knew was that I'd thrown so many away during the time Seth and I had been together, lovely little notes and lyrics he'd written and left for me to find. Once he'd gone, all I'd wanted was to have the proof that he'd once loved me in my hands.

So I hadn't been able to throw these ones away, not now.

Instead I'd squirreled them away inside a box where Nick wouldn't see them. As I purposefully made my way through the drink in my hand, I laid them out; surprised at the sheer amount that he'd written to me in the time he'd been back in the city. All the way back to My Mistakes Were Made For You.

It made my throat feel alarmingly tight, my finger nail running over thy lyrics of I'd Pick You Every Time, and I swallowed thickly. Tipping my chin up, I took a long drink from the glass.

And I almost dropped that drink when I saw a silhouette in the doorway.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I exclaimed, my heart stuck up in my throat. "Don't you knock?"

I don't know just where I'm going. But I'm going to try for the kingdom, if I can.

"I did, you didn't hear it over the music," Seth said as he stepped inside the room. He looked guarded, like he was preparing for a bomb to go off, almost too light on his feet. "You should really lock your door; it's not that hard to get into the building."

'Cause it makes me feel like I'm a man. When I put a spike into my vein. And I tell you things aren't quite the same.

My throat felt suddenly dry and I took a drink to quench the sensation. Nick always went around the apartment before we went to bed, making sure to check the door that I never bothered to lock. I hadn't even considered it.

When I'm rushing on my run. And I feel just like Jesus' son. And I guess that I just don't know. And I guess that I just don't know.

Instead of saying any of that, I just squared my shoulders and faced him. "What are you even doing here?"

"Mark told me to come see you," he informed me. As I watched, I saw his eyes travel over the notes that I had spread out on top of the box. I instantly shifted, trying to block it from his sight, but the damage was already done.

I have made a big decision. I'm going to try and nullify my life. 'Cause when the blood begins to flow. When it shoots up the dropper's neck. When I'm closing in on death.

"Mark should mind his own fucking business," I snapped. My back was up now, embarrassed at getting caught being sentimental. "I don't know why the fuck you're here right now. It's done, we're out, you can get back to your life now."

You can't help me now, you guys, and all you sweet girls with all your sweet talk. You can all go take a walk.

Seth's eyes flashed dangerously.

And I guess I just don't know. And I guess that I just don't know.

"You're right, I can get back to my life," he said in a deliberately slow voice. His eyes never left mind, and he was standing still right in my only private place in the apartment. "I don't have to be New York anymore."

I wish that I was born a thousand years ago. I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas. On a great big clipper ship, going from this land here to that. On a sailor's suit and clap.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You came here now to tell me you're leaving?"

Away from the big city, where a man cannot be free. Of all the evils of this town, and of himself and those around.

"No, I'm just telling you that I can. Mark's got a handle on it, once that stupid fucking award show is done, I can go anywhere," Seth told me. His eyes were watching me closely. But I only scoffed at him.

Taking another deep drink, I said, "Thanks for the info."

Oh, and I guess that I just don't know. Oh, and I guess that I just don't know.

"I want you to ask me to stay," Seth said.

My eyes flew up to meet his to find him watching me steadily. "What?"

"Just ask me to stay."

Heroin, be the death of me. Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life.

My mouth opened around the words, but I found myself choking on the sheer power of the moment, and instead took a deep drink. "Isn't that your girlfriend's job?" I asked instead, nastiness seeping into my voice.

And even I knew I'd let us both down in that moment. I kept calling him a coward, but what did this make me?

Because a mainline into my vein, leads to a center in my head, and then I'm better off than dead.

"Don't you listen to anything that isn't about you?" Seth asked sharply. "Claire is going back to home on Monday, so I'm asking you to ask me to stay."

When I didn't come up with a response immediately, he plowed on, the words being thrown from his mouth as if he had no control over them. "I should be with her right now, she's perfect, everything that I could ever want. Yet I'm here with you, for some fucking stupid reason even I don't understand, asking you to ask me to stay because I can't think another reason to stay in this city."

Because when the smack begins to flow, I really don't care anymore, about all the Jim-Jims in this town.

His words hit me like knives, slowly cutting their way down, hurting more with each moment. My hand clenched on my drink. "You hate LA," I snapped.

"And what the fuck has New York done for me?" he returned, anger beginning to seep into his voice when he'd been trying to keep so calm. "A heroin habit and lawsuits, why the hell would I want to stay here."

And all the politicians making crazy sounds, and everybody putting everybody else down. And all the dead bodies piled up in mounds.

At that I drained what was left in my drink, and I felt like I was trembling like a leaf. I wanted to answer that simply, just to say 'me'. But we both knew I couldn't do that. So instead I found my anger getting away from me at being put in this spot.

'Cause when the smack begins to flow, and I really don't care anymore.

"And why the fuck would I ask you to stay?" I said loudly, voice starting to build up to a yell. "Especially after you saying just how wonderful your new girlfriend is in comparison to me? All that being with you here did was fuck me up when you left with no word, leave me as the bad guy for trying to protect you, and take all my friends away. I don't even have a relationship with my father because the last time I spoke to him I was defending you! I couldn't talk to him and admit he'd always been right about you!"

Ah, when that heroin is in my blood, and that blood is in my head.

"Can you stop making excuses for one fucking moment," Seth yelled back, matching his volume with mine. "Just ask me to stay and I'll do it. I'll do whatever you say."

Then I thank god that I'm as good as dead.

The moment the words were out, we stared at each other silently, chests heaving.

And thank you god that I'm not away.

Once again I opened my mouth, wondering if I could just swallow my pride and ask him. It couldn't be that hard, could it? It was all I wanted to do. I didn't want to be left alone here without all of them again. But I couldn't choke the words out.

And thank god that I just don't care.

I just closed my mouth.

Seth waited as the silence stretched on, but when I couldn't come up with a word, he scoffed and walked right back out the way he'd come. And as he went he slammed the door behind him so hard it rattled in its hinges.

And I guess I just don't know,

In a pure moment of fury directed towards myself, I hurled my now empty glass against the wall and watched as the smashed pieces hit the ground.

And then I sunk to the ground as well.

Oh, and I guess I just don't know.

- Not time to write some big thing. Covid friendly outdoor bithrday party to get to . But yeah, this was a motherfucker to write. Took forever. And it's super long. Hope you gues like it.