Page 100 of Down Beat
THIRTY-SEVEN
Rey
“Let Me Live My Life” – Saint Asonia
Rick sighs as we head past security and into the venue. “Do I need to buy her a ticket home?”
The play is broken and disjointed as we walk toward the stage. We caught a cab over here. A goddamn cab. Wallace really doesn’t fuck around when it comes to punishment for the lost revenue.
I stare at his son beside me, realizing I actually don’t know a fucking thing about Rick other than what he does here. “You might need to ask her that.”
“How about you ask her yourself,” he levels. “And while you’re at it, you can apologize to the poor girl. I know saying sorry isn’t your thing, but maybe just this once you can try something a little different with Tabitha.” He leans forward to catch my eye before he pushes the envelope a little harder. “You might find she’s worth the energy, Rey. After all, why bother flying her all the way out here if you’re not going to put in any effort?”
“Just make sure you do what I asked you to, okay? She’s doing this for me, so it’s only fair I do something in return.”
“Yeah. Okay. But don’t get up my ass about it if I can’t get the okay to put her onstage.”
“Don’t give me reason to.”
Kris stands to the side of the stage as I walk on; arms resting casually on his guitar while he watches Toby and Emery bitch over who comes in first. Fuck me. We’ve only been performing the song they were playing for close to a year.
“You both cut in together, you idiots,” I call out.
“We decided to change it,” Emery states flatly.
Meanwhile Toby damn near knocks his fucking kit over in his haste to get off the stool. “What the fuck, you dumb cunt!”
I take a step back as he comes at me, both his palms facing outward. They connect strong and sharp with my collarbones.
“Don’t you dare fucking take off like that again.”
“Or what?” I taunt. “You’ll do what? Fill me in here.”
His mouth twists as he glares at me. “I was this close to calling Mom.” He holds his forefinger and thumb an inch apart while he whispers the words. “This fucking close.”
“So call her.” I push past him and head for where my guitar rests on its stand.
“You know why I didn’t?” he shouts across the stage. “Because I didn’t know how I’d explain to her that I couldn’t stop you if you had fucking topped yourself.”
Emery takes a seat on the front of Toby’s platform with a sigh.
I spin on my brother and shrug, both palms held up at my sides. “Maybe I didn’t want you to stop me?”
“You fucker.” He charges across the stage too quick for Emery to cut him off.
I brace for impact; we’re two ten-year-olds brawling all over again.
Kris steps out of the way as the two of us hit the deck, Toby’s arm around my neck, mine around his middle. My shoulder takes most of the impact, a whoosh of air escaping him as he hits the stage on his side.
“You’re selfish, Rey,” he grits out through a stiff jaw as we roll and grapple. “It’s all about you.”
I get the heel of my right hand under his jaw and push hard, forcing him back far enough to wedge my left arm between our chests. “Then let me finish for a goddamn change, big brother. It’d be all about you if I wasn’t around, wouldn’t it?”
He tucks a hand over his head and swings his elbow down to knock me in the side of the head. I use my legs to roll him over, force him to his back.
“Why don’t you get it?” he cries, grunting as I get an elbow into his guts. “It should be us, Rey. You and me. It should be us doing this shit together.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” I straddle him, blocking his fist as he tries to give me a last shot. “We are together, you dickhead.”