“I don’t need help with that,” he said.“I’m glad you are taking this into your own hands, Ry.I’m proud of you.”
The two continued chatting for a few hours.Ry would only be in town for this short time before catching a flight back to LA.But before he went home, there was a book belonging to Alex that he wanted to bring with him.Perhaps this token would help him restore their relationship.If not, it belonged to Alex anyway.
CHAPTER 20: PAST
Ry floated from car to plane to hotel to stage to bus and back, his body numb.Each pill, each bottle, sent a ripple of oblivion through him.Each wave a welcome respite from the crushing weight ofhis own existence.Every time he stepped into an arena, his voice, which had held thousands captive, now strained through his constricted throat, sounding like a stranger’s from a life he no longer recognized.The roar of the crowd, once his lifeblood, echoed as a mocking reminder of the hollowness within.
Month after month, he plunged headfirst into the discordant waves.The weeks blurred into a hazy tapestry of late nights and early mornings, fueled by anything that silenced the gnawing void.He had started small, a way to take the edge off the relentless pressure, the suffocating loneliness that clung to him like a second skin.But the razor had sharpened, and the drugs had become a necessity, and the silence he sought morphed into a deafening pain of his own making.
He was a ghost haunting his own existence.Each time he caught his reflection in hotel mirrors or plane lavatories, he saw a gaunt and haunted man, his eyes dulled by a pervasive despair.He slipped into a slow, agonizing descent from a reality he couldn’t bear to face.The last vestiges of his former self drowned in the murky depths of this life he no longer recognized.Somewhere, deep beneath the surface, a tiny note of defiance refused to be dampened by the detritus of despair.
CHAPTER 21: PRESENT
Ry examined his reflection, checking the fit of his slacks and his dark red button-up with a black-and-silver vest.The quiet hum from the fan was the only sound.He smiled.Looking good.He stood taller in the mirror, a lightness bubbling within him.
The last week had been going well for him, thanks to Sania and her team, along with the rest of the band supporting him.He and Lon were back to their old, easy camaraderie, while he’d had fresh adventures with Brand, with all the cooking classes and other activities.
And Alex … he'd finally see if those fleeting glances, those electric touches were more than a dream.A flutter of anticipation, a nervous tremor, danced in his stomach.He had invited Alex to a trendy, upscale restaurant tonight, where Sania’s assistant secured a prime table to aid their legal strategy for winning or settling the case.The whole idea seemed devilish, almost as if he was getting away with something.
He adjusted his raven-black hair once more.“You’ve got this, Ry,” he said to himself.“You can do this.And not fuck it up.”
Then he gave himself a winning smile and headed out, letting Alex know he was on his way.He pulled up to Alex’s house, the crunch of gravel under the tires sharp.The car door clicked shut, and he stepped out into the cool night air.His footsteps echoed softly on the path, and with a decisive push, rang the doorbell, like a gentleman.
Alex opened the entryway, wearing only underwear, his hair still damp.“Hey, sorry I’m running a little late.Come on in while I finish getting dressed.”
The sight sent a jolt through him, a familiar heat rising in his chest.His physique hadn’t changed, but the light and shadows danced across his sculpted form as he smiled and leaned on the banister.A soft sigh escaped Ry’s lips, the memory of teenage infatuation surging back with an almost tangible force.No wonder he’d been so utterly captivated.Ry closed the door behind him, unaware he’d taken steps toward Alex.
“Need help choosing?”he said, clearing the thickness in his throat.
“You are all dressed up.”Alex appraised him.“Glad I waited to see the dress code first.”
Ry flushed and laughed nervously.“Maybe more dressy than required, but not as fancy as the Grammys.Man, that was fun.”
“Yeah, a nice bright spot.”Alex beckoned him and then headed upstairs.
He trailed behind at a respectable distance, yet close enough for a clear view of Alex’s back, their footsteps a hushed scuff on the floor.They entered the ensuite bedroom, the colossal bed a commanding presence.The room, awash in serene whites, cool grays, and calming blues, conjured the tranquility of a beachside oasis.
Alex held out two pairs of pants.“Which one?Black or … black.”
Light-headed, Ry fell back to the banter they’d had years ago.“I might need you to model them to decide.How else am I supposed to tell?”
The taller man rolled his dark eyes, but grinned.He tried on both, spinning around for Ry.In the end, Alex had put on the tailored slacks and an indigo button-up with the arms folded up, exposing a couple of his tattoos.He left the top two buttons open.Ry swallowed.This evening might be much more difficult than he had expected.
Alex finished adjusting his sleeves and said, “I have a question before we actually go through with this.”
“Yeah?”Ry said, standing up.
“You aren’t just doing this for the lawyer or the tabloids, are you?”
“Um, no,” Ry flushed.Nervous, he tested his new honesty policy.“No, I also want this to be a romantic date, too.”
“Well, in that case, you can pay.”Alex grinned.
“You got it,” Ry said.“Ready?”
Alex gave him a shy smile and nodded, shooing Ry out.
The drive was quiet, and Ry didn’t force conversation, simply enjoying the moment.Light citrus and leather scents drifted to him like a memory from so long ago.Soft sounds played through the car speakers, some type of ambient, soothing music with lazy swells and chill beats.He tapped lightly along, his face unused to the grin he’d had the entire ride.Summer bloomed in his chest.
