“We can after. No point in bringing it up if Ryan can’t do it.” Or having Tim put a stop to the idea before we even got it off the ground. I pushed my guilt aside. Tim was the one who walked away from Hazed. He’s the one who left us in a bind.
“Okay.” Ian hit the speakerphone button. Ryan answered after two rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Ryan? It’s Ian and Justin.”
“Hey, guys. What’s up?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I cut to the chase.
“Not sure. Why?” My gut instinct had been right, anything we said would take priority over whatever he had planned.
“You interested in playing a gig with us?”
Ryan was game, agreeing before the details were explained, just as I had expected. He was on the first plane and arrived early the next morning, carrying two guitar cases, an electric and an acoustic, and a book bag. My kind of guy.
Any worries that existed were extinguished during the rehearsal. Ryan picked up the short setlist in less than an hour. The vocals would be divided, Ian and I both taking two and leaving one for Ryan. Without a doubt he would have smashed all five, but we were playing it safe. The last thing we needed was our fans protesting a newbie stepping into Tim’s shoes.
The night of the performance, Ryan was the first to walk onto the stage. He looped his guitar strap over his shoulder as he crossed the stage under the dimmed lights, looking anything but nervous. The noise grew as we were announced. Nothing had been released before the concert about Tim’s absence. We figured the fewer people who knew, the less chance of giving people the time to complain. Better to avoid fans heckling the guitarist who was helping us out of a jam.
Ryan struck the strings of his guitar, the loud noise filling the venue causing screams to erupt and the lights to brighten. He played the intro of the first song as if he’d been performing with us since the beginning. When the vocals started, Ryan moved to the side, letting Ian replace him at center stage. The crowd was into it and by the time I pulled the mic closer to my mouth to lead the second song if anyone was missing Tim, they weren’t showing it.
Before starting the third song, the one Ryan was slated to sing, Ian took the mic from a stand and signaled for the crowd to quiet so he could speak.
“Thank you all for coming! We always love playing to a sold-out crowd, and this time it means even more. You’re not just making our lives awesome, more importantly you’re putting a stop to domestic violence, and that’s pretty fucking awesome!” The crowd screamed in response and Ian waited a beat until the noise level dropped.
“So, I’m guessing you’re all wondering the same thing.”
“Yes ladies, I’m still single and always looking… for tonight.” I piped in, pushing my hair out of my face so the camera could catch my wink. The high-pitched hollers from the females filled the space and a pink lace bra and black bralette soared onto the stage. More for my collection, in trash bins all over the world. Girls, you’re throwing your money away.
“I think that one’s pretty obvious, Justin. But for those of you noticing that Tim looks a little different tonight, we thought we would fill you in before someone writes some bullshit article that Tim is in rehab in Antarctica or has joined a cult. Wish we could say it’s that interesting, but unfortunately, it’s not. Just typical parenting stuff, one kid has a cold and the other is teething, and he wanted to be the sweet husband that he is and give his wife a break. So, that’s where he is. And this man right here is a Saint. Offering to help us out with his incredible talent. He’s going to take the mic next, so if you all can lose your fucking minds like I know you will - welcome Ryan!”
What would make an inexperienced musician blush or stumble, washed off Ryan like a seasoned professional. With a nod of his head and a raised hand to the audience, he walked to the center of the stage, taking the mic from Ian.
“Let’s go!” Ryan cupped the microphone, letting his guitar hang from his body. He waited, guitar swinging, focused intently on the audience while Ian and I kicked off the song. My nerves were shot, watching him hold on to the mic when he was supposed to be playing in a couple of bars. There was no one to back him up if he didn’t come in on time.
A split second before his cue, he slid the mic into the stand and grabbed the neck of his guitar without missing a beat. Ryan moved along the stage, spending time playing to the front row before making his way back to the stand in time to sing. Ryan killed it. The song. The performance. He was born for the stage. No way in hell could we let him walk away. I would fight to take Hazed to four members if that fourth member was Ryan.
Backstage, after the set, I checked my phone to see if Ryan’s appearance had made it onto social media, only to find Hazed tagged in hundreds of posts and #RyansbeenHazed trending.
“Guess we should probably call Tim now. Before he sees this.” I held up my phone to Ian and Ryan. Ryan took my phone and scrolled through the posts, a proud smile covering his face. For his lack of Rockstar virginity on the stage, he was making up for it. A kid in the candy store of positive social media, mesmerized with the beginning stages of instant fame.
“Shit.” Ian grimaced and pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Tim’s number and put him on speakerphone.
Tim answered on the first ring. “How did the show go?”
“Have you seen it?” I asked, praying he hadn’t but knowing it was against all odds that he didn’t.
“I’ve seen a couple of clips. Ryan killed it.” If he was upset that we replaced him, he wasn’t showing it.
“We were going to tell you, but we weren’t sure how the whole thing would go.” Ian explained.
“I get it. I wouldn’t have said anything either. It was a great idea. Gave something different to the show to overshadow the fact that I skipped out.” He cleared his throat. “Not that there isn’t negative press on that, but it’s not as bad as I was expecting. Plus, it’ll get Ryan’s name out there.”
I held my tongue, keeping my thoughts to myself. It wasn’t the time to press the issue, not when Ryan was in the room. Even if he was distracted by his social media explosion.
“Exactly. Glad you’re okay with this.” Ian was relieved. Up until we had him on the phone, his reaction could have gone either way. Neither of us would have put money on his complete acceptance.
“It’s all good. I’m going to put the baby back to bed though. We’ll talk in a couple of days, figure out the rehearsal schedule for the next couple of months.”
There wasn’t much to figure out, we all knew what the schedule would involve. Ian and I would be dragging our asses and suitcases to Tim and Ally’s, to sleep in our basement bedrooms for three or four days every couple of weeks. The dates were the only thing left to be decided and those were dictated by Tim and Ian’s wives. No one consulted with me and no wonder, my life still revolved around Hazed. My priorities were in the right place.
Little did they know that this time around, my downtime away from them would be spent working toward Hazed’s future with Ryan. If I let up, even a little, he would be plucked up by someone else and I couldn’t afford that. We couldn’t afford that. He was the link I needed to keep Hazed together and moving forward.
***
Time off was a dangerous thing in my world. There were very few things I used to fill the time. Girls, parties, and sports. Without the band, musicians, stage crew, roadies, you get the picture, I was alone. No best friends filling my schedule and going home wasn’t something I did often. Turns out my parents weren’t too fond of the reputation I’d built and instead of facing their lectures, I opted for avoidance. Three days into my full week off, I was beyond bored and found myself obsessively looking at my cell phone.
It’s weird how such a small piece of metal and plastic could be torturous. I couldn’t escape it. Every time I stared down at the screen it was a reminder that Maggie was no longer an option. Calling her would be easy. A couple of quick swipes across the glass screen and I could
hear her voice. But I couldn’t. She rejected me. She moved on, leaving me to pick up the pieces. I should have known better. It should have been me cutting the strings. But no, I was weak and gave in to the cravings. What an idiot I’d been to leave myself open to rejection.
While the world might buy into my reputation, assume that rejection never had a place in my life, that wasn’t the truth. As an adult, I didn’t let my guard down often, but back in high school, I was a complete fool.
Grade ten, remember, glasses, mouth full of metal, and face covered in zits. Despite my obvious flaws, I wanted the high school experience and that included going to my first school dance. My group of friends were socially inept, myself included, and were hell-bent on a game of D&D over ever stepping foot on the dance floor. I, on the other hand, was determined to break out of my comfort zone and take the risk to find a date. Most guys would set their sights on the prettiest girl in the school, but that’s not the kind of kid I was. I knew where I stood in the pecking order and knew better than batting out of my league.
With my expectations low, I zeroed in on my target. Her name was Cynthia and we had shared the same class since grade two. She was just as much of an awkward teenager and we shared our outcast status. I wouldn’t say she was unattractive, but she wouldn’t have stood a chance in a beauty contest either. The girl was a mathlete and in the high school band. See, proof that I wasn’t hitting above the belt. Why wouldn’t she accept me with open arms? It wasn’t like there was a line of guys waiting to take her to the dance.
On a Wednesday, two weeks before the dance, I worked up the courage to ask. With shaking hands and a stomach full of nerves, I made my way to the music room for band practice. Instead of taking my place behind the drum kit, I hung back against the wall, out of the way of the passing students filing into the room. I was patient, waiting for the perfect opportunity to be alone with her and it didn’t take long for that moment to come.
Cynthia walked away from the open music room to the storage area where instruments and books were kept. I followed. We were the only two people in the small space. Her back was turned to me, as she searched the shelves.
“Cynthia?” She jumped, surprised by my presence.
“Oh, Justin. You scared me.”
“Sorry.” I apologized. I wasn’t off to a great start, but I couldn’t stop without looking like a complete creep. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“What do you want to ask me?” Her eyes darted from mine to the room behind us.
“Would you like to go to the dance with me on the 24th?” The words were out. I was proud of myself. I hadn’t rushed or stumbled. Despite my nerves, I held it together.
My attention focused on Cynthia, waiting for her answer. I failed to notice that Claire Matthews was standing behind me until the high pitch cackling of her voice hit my ears. “Oh, this is rich!” Her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head. Her hair swished into my face as she walked past me.
“What are you doing here?” She wasn’t in the school band. In fact, I was positive she didn’t even have a class at that end of the school. So why had she shown up at the precise moment to witness my first attempt at asking someone out? High school was unfair. She already made my life a living hell, 90% of my time within these halls. The music room should be my safe place.
“Witnessing a free comedy show, apparently.” She laughed again. “Cynthia, you aren’t going to say yes to this loser, are you? Even you can do better than him.” She sidled up to Cynthia and the answer was written across her face, without her saying a word. She wasn’t going to agree. Not now. It would be social suicide within these walls.
Instead of waiting for the official rejection, I bailed. It took me two weeks to walk back into the music room and even then, the only reason I did was because the band leader begged me to come back. They couldn’t find anyone to take my place.
My hang-ups were legit. The fear was real and growing stronger as I held my phone. Calling Maggie wasn’t the answer. She wouldn’t solve the loneliness. Not after everything that had happened. Things didn’t exactly end on a high note and we’d never been friends without the sex. Asking for that from her after the fact wouldn’t work. How could it? It still hurt that instead of talking to me, letting me know what she wanted, that she’d gone out and found someone else. And it had been so easy for her. One minute we were hot and heavy and the next she’d moved on to someone else. How had it been so simple for her, when I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d screwed a girl that wasn’t Maggie. I don’t even know when it happened, or how. But it did. Maggie managed to dig her way in, to become a temporary yet permanent part of my life.
At first, I thought the draw was because we were sneaking around. Being with Maggie was a dirty secret, hidden hook-ups and hard and fast fucks were the icing on the world’s most delicious cupcake. The high with Maggie became so extreme that I started to blame that for the reason I no longer wanted other women. With someone else, the threat of being discovered didn’t exist. Only, that explanation didn’t fly. Not anymore. Because for all the times we snuck around, we’d found twice as many to spend time together tucked safely behind the walls of her apartment or the closed door of my condo. There was no fear or worry about being caught together and yet being with her blew my mind every single time.
But hey, I’m Justin, King of bad decisions and instead of admitting that my feelings for Maggie had changed, that our relationship had mutated into something serious, I smothered myself with denial. When I should have manned up, I shut up and kept pretending that being with her was still as casual as the day we met. My failure to act was the reason I was sitting in my condo racking my brain for a way to get Maggie back in my life.
Chapter 11
Surfacing
Maggie
Half a dozen successful dates brought out a new level of confidence in me. Deciding to move forward and take strides in the big girl world, made me proud. Staying in my comfort zone, continuing with the world I knew, would have been easy but it was time for more. I deserved more. Myles may not be the end game, but he was a huge stepping-stone. My new life would take time and practice. I had a lot to learn when it came to the intricacies of intimacy.
Date number seven was so much more than just another date and not only because sex was looming. No, date number seven was important because it marked the beginning of my first real relationship. The foundation that two people would build their future on. For the first time in my adult life the sex could wait. At least long enough for us to have a secure relationship that wouldn’t crumble once sex was introduced. Feeling the importance of our first date as an official couple sent me into a frenzied disaster, one I needed to calm before I was a stuttering mess in front of Myles.
We were going to the movies. Easy peasy, really - and the anticipated silence gave me time to get my shit together. The stutter was driving me crazy though, becoming more and more difficult to manage following the confrontation with Justin. He’d brought it out of hibernation.
Justin’s reaction had been startling. What should have been a quick and dirty end to the two of us left me feeling awkward and unsettled. Why wasn’t he relieved to be rid of me? An easy way to fade back into his lifestyle without ever having to think about me. Instead, he left me confused. Why did he care so much? It didn’t make sense. I longed to confide in Ally or Sarah. To run the conversation by a third party and pick someone else’s brain. Someone to help me decipher Justin’s response. He couldn’t possibly care, right?
So, why did it feel like there was sadness in his voice? How come it seemed like he was taking the end of our fuckbuddy relationship as an act of betrayal? Ohmygod! That’s it. Betrayal. His reaction. It all made sense. His pain wasn’t because he’d miss me. He was hurt because I bruised his ego. I ended things when his entire MO was to be the one leaving girls in his wake. I ruined his perfect record.
I should have known. How could have I been
stupid enough to assume his reaction was anything more than about himself? We are talking about Justin fucking Thompson after all. When I didn’t want round two from the start, he was the one to pursue me. That’s precisely what it was back then and that’s exactly what it was now. His idiotic ego needed to be the one to call it quits. He had to be the one to leave a confused woman behind. To be the one that wasn’t expecting more from another human being. His hang-ups were just as bad, if not worse than mine. But for some reason, with him, I never worried about keeping score. Looking back on it, I was the clear winner. And he wasn’t pleased. I was left feeling like the loser for believing his reaction was about anything more than winning a game. How full of myself was I, that I believed for even a minute that I had converted a non-committer.
I’d become so lost in my light bulb moment about Justin that I didn’t realize Myles was banging on the door. Hopefully, he hadn’t been knocking long, otherwise I’d need a killer excuse for why I was too spaced out to hear him. Pretty sure the explanation of daydreaming about a guy I’d been screwing off and on for the past two years wasn’t going to fly.
“Hey, babe.” Myles greeted, kissing my cheek.
The use of the pet name caused me to cringe, not that he noticed. The man was clueless when it came to my body language. I opened my mouth to protest his use of ‘babe’ but kept my objection to myself. Most couples used pet names. I’d get over it. Compromising was important for a relationship. I know I’d read that a time or two. My girlfriend status wouldn’t start off on the right foot by lecturing Myles on the use of names I thought were degrading.
“Hi.” Short and sweet… and safe.
“Were you on the phone?”
“No, why?” My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“Oh, I just thought I heard you talking.” Crap, had I been talking to myself?
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