Page 101 of Down Beat

“He means,” Emery explains from a safe distance, “he’s tired of being left out of what goes on in that fucked-up head of yours.”

I turn to face Em, still on top of Toby. My brother goes lax beneath me while our bassist spells it out.

“He’s your blood, Rey, and you keep him in the dark.”

“Because none of you fuckers want to know about it,” I say, climbing to my feet. “You’ve all had it with me. Fuck. I’ve had it with me.”

“We haven’t had it with you,” Kris murmurs.

Asshole hasn’t moved an inch since this all started.

“We just don’t know what to do anymore,” he finishes.

I back up, looking at the guys with new eyes while Rick hangs back with the crew. They’ve all seen us blow up from time to time, but this level of physical violence is new.

“What do you want me to say?” I shrug, still retreating. “I don’t have the answer, guys. I don’t know either.”

Toby pulls himself into a seated position, and then pushes to his feet. “Why her? Why go to Tabitha about it and not us?”

Because she’s new to this. As I look around at the tired faces of my bandmates, at the concerned look on Rick’s, I realize what it is that makes me feel safe around her.

It’s not just that she listens without prejudice. It’s that she doesn’t harbor this level of frustration toward me. She hasn’t been worn down by years of my shit. She hasn’t had her optimism snuffed out by my repeated disrespect for her attempts to help.

I like her because she gives me a fresh chance to try again.

To try again and get it right.

Can I even do that?

“Are we going to play, or what?” I stride over to my guitar and rip it off the stand.

The guys all take their positions, quiet, shoulders down. Resigned. I’ve done it again. Wound everyone up with my behavior, and then left them out to dry while I shut it all out and push on as though nothing’s amiss.

Emery wraps up the argument with Toby over how they were going to change the couple of bars in question while I pull out my phone and send a quick message to kitty.

I was a jackass, a complete and utter asshole. I can admit that. And yeah, Rick’s right, I need to apologize to her. But it can’t wait until we get back prior to the show, because if this is how far the guys are through rehearsal, I get the feeling there won’t be enough of a gap in between for us to go anywhere.

It’ll be a quick takeout meal backstage before we’re spun through wardrobe and left to get our shit together for the show tonight.

“All set?” Em asks as he wanders past to take his usual place to my left.

“Sure.” I pocket my phone and step up to kick things off.

Two taps on the mic to make sure its live and I’m right back where I should be.

Not necessarily where I want to be.