Repented (8 page)

CHAPTER TEN

I WILL NOT BOW

A week had passed in a blink. With tour quickly approaching, we had spent most of our time between rehearsing and recording new tracks. The Battlescars boys were bonding with the GT guys. Yeah, we were technically men, but deep down we'd always be boys.

Zach  Bailey was the lead singer. His charisma, good looks and rocker style were nothing compared to his larger than life, yet very cocky personality. Austin Hughes was their lead guitarist. He was around my height and Jake joked that we could pass for brothers. It was only because we were both blue eyed.. Other than that, I didn't see a resemblance. Out of all of them, he was the one I clicked with most. He was in the process of getting a divorce. They were married for six years and though I didn't know the details, I could certainly sympathize.

Then there was Joel and Mason Lane. They were brothers. Joel was the other guitar player, and Mason was the bassist. They were olive skinned, dark haired, with almost black eyes and complete goofballs. It was almost hard to be serious around them because they could turn anything into a joke or laughing matter. They were both incredible musicians, and Joel had amazing backup vocals on top of it.

Lastly, there was Tyler Knox. Tyler was part of the reason that the idea of originally signing GT was a bit awkward. Apparently, something went down between him, his long-term girlfriend, Kelsey, and Derek. Though the details are vague and sketchy, if I used my imagination it would give me nightmares. I could only try and envision about what actually went down. But hey, whatever floats your boat.

After spending almost ten consecutive hours between control boards and tracking, we wrapped up for the day. I asked Austin, Joel, and Mason if they wanted to grab a beer. Everyone else had families or girlfriends to tend to, and after today I felt like I deserved to treat myself. It was warmer than usual, and we could go to Pop's Pub. It was this run down, shithole of a bar that served mostly locals by Pop himself. Even though I usually didn't drink when I went there, the atmosphere was something I could appreciate. Good music and good company. There wasn't much that could make it better.

They didn't need any coaxing, and we piled into my 4Runner, heading down to the bar by the river. From the outside, it looked like a dilapidated shack. The inside wasn't much better. A small white sign hung above the door, deeming it was Pop's Bar. The sign on the front door was my favorite. It was when I was officially sold on this place.

Welcome to Pop's Bar

FREE BEER, TOPLESS BARTENDERS, FALSE ADVERTISING

WE DO, HOWEVER, HAVE BEER AS COLD AS YOUR EX'S HEART

BUY ONE BEER FOR THE PRICE OF TWO AND RECEIVE THE SECOND ABSOLUTELY FREE!

ON A SERIOUS NOTE:

We (I, Pop) reserve the right to refuse the right to serve you, especially if I don't like you

We (I, Pop) only take cash

We (I, Pop) decide when the bar closes

We (I, Pop) encourage generous tipping

PLEASE NO TEXTING YOUR EX AFTER 2AM

SORRY NO WI-FI, GET DRUNK AND TALK TO EACH OTHER

Leave your problems at the door, I don't want to hear about them. I will, however, help you drown them. Then I will call you a cab after you pay your tab
.

Next to the sign, was a stack of cards with a smaller sign saying, "hiding from your wife? Take one.

POP'S HIDING FROM YOUR WIFE PHONE RATES:

$1- NOPE HE'S NOT HERE

$2- JUST MISSED HIM

$3- JUST HAD ONE AND LEFT

$4- HASN'T BEEN IN ALL DAY

$5- NEVER HEARD OF HIM

Essentially, Pop's was a man cave. The wood floors were original, unlevel and had notches in the wood. The tables didn't match, nor did the chairs. Antler chandeliers hung and dimly lit the space. A makeshift stage sat at the far end of the bar. The walls were wood paneled and outdated, but there was no sense in updating it, and frankly it added to the charm.

The bar sat front and center covered with license plates from all over, old tin signs and pinup photos from the 50's. Pop was a sixty-something, robust man with a hearty laugh and exceptional sense of humor when it suited him. He was a Vietnam vet and had some of the best stories.

About a year ago, Blake and I had stumbled across this place out of boredom. At first, neither of us were quite sure what to make of it, but since then it's become a place we frequent when we have the time. Even though I usually only drank club soda and Pop's would accuse me of losing my manhood, I still kept coming back.

I opened the door and led the guys inside. Their expressions were Kodak worthy. It was a mix of horror, disgust, and curiosity. As soon as he saw me, Pop's face lit up.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Where's this mysterious Mrs.'?"

Walking to the bar and taking a seat that wobbled, I ordered a beer and prepared to go over the story. Well, most of it anyway. I ordered for the guys as well, since this wasn't the place where you got to pick what you wanted to drink. You drank what Pop's served you. He usually had a few regular kinds on tap, but he'd started getting some local IPA's as well. Those were my favorite.

"There is no longer a Mrs.'. Long story short, some stuff came out at the speak now or forever hold your piece bit. Everyone lost their cool, turns out it was nothing. She bailed, and now I'm back on the market." Picking up the glass, I took a long swig of the beer.

"Women," was all he muttered under his breath. Taking a dish rag, he wiped down the bar and checked on few other patrons.

Joel and Mason turned to me, "Dude, where's all the chicks?"

Pop's cleared his throat to add his two cents. "Think of this as a man-cave sanctuary. Women are usually too terrified to come inside. It's almost like a safe house. Men come here to get away from the women." 

"But what about getting laid?" Mason asked.

Pop's shook his head. "Just drink your damn beer, son."

Austin was sitting directly next me. He understood.

"Just think in less than two weeks you're going to have more girls hanging  on you than you can handle. It gets old quick, trust me." I took another swig and thought about having another, but opted to switch to club soda.

The few patrons came and went, as we sat there and shot the shit for about an hour. Suddenly a look crossing Pop's face caused my head to turn. That could only mean one thing. It was a woman. No, not just any woman, it was Bryn.

Motherfuck. Not here. Of all the places in the world, she had to show up here.
Sucking in a calming breath, I had to admit I was pretty shocked to see her.  She looked completely out of place, and she was.

She took a tentative step forward, unsure. Slowly, she made her way to where I was sitting. Part of me knew I should have gotten up and taken her outside to talk, but deep down I was still hurt, pissed and angry. I wasn't going to go out of my way to make her comfortable. Not after what I've been through lately.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when she finally reached me.

Pops made his way to the other side of the bar, attempting to look busy while eavesdropping.

"I showed up to the guesthouse, and it was empty. I knocked at Jake's, and he told me you were here and gave me directions. Are you drinking?" A look of disgust on her face.

"So what if I am. It's none of your concern anymore. You walked away, not me." I spat.

Her mouth opened, and an audible gasp came out. "I was hoping that we could talk, maybe clear a few things up. By the way, thanks for letting me know you were putting the apartment up for sale."

"That was my apartment before we were even together. We're not married, you're not on the deed, and I don't want it anymore."

She smoothed her tweed shirt and sleeveless silk shirt. If I had to take my guess, she was trying to gather her composure. She didn't exactly not like getting her way. "Can we step outside, please?"

It was rotten, but I was actually enjoying this. "Bryn, why are you really here? It's not just because of the fucking apartment, and we both know it. You obviously flew almost two-thousand miles for a reason, so just spit it out."

Then, the ugly part of her personality came out. "Why do you have to be so rude? It's always about you. You never take the time to consider my feelings!"

Next, was my turn to lose it. "I never consider your feelings? Excuse me, I've blindly spent the last three years under your thumb, letting you control all aspects of my life. I didn't realize how much I was sacrificing because you manipulated me that good. I spent the days following the wedding doing nothing except considering your fucking feelings. You know when you wouldn't answer my calls or texts, when I was the one on the emotional rollercoaster and needed you the most..." Yep, I wasn't finished yet. "How is it that you come right out and say you can't handle it and that you're done my fault? If there was a time that I needed you by my side, it was then, and you bailed. Now you're here to what, beg for me back? Sorry Bryn, it's not going to happen. I have clarity now."

Stunned silent, she stood there. Her mouth moved a few times, but nothing came out. It was hard not to feel at least slightly guilty, but there was truth to every bit of what I said. In the weeks since everything happened, she made no effort whatsoever to reach out to me. Instead, she chose hopping on a plane and traveling across the country to have a face to face.

As much as part of me would always love her for helping me get my life back on track, I now saw her for who she really was. I was a pawn in her game. She wanted her perfect life, her Volvo and two point five kids with the mansion on the hill. She wanted everything I was trying to get away from. Somehow, I blindly walked through the past three years doing everything she wanted out of love. In hindsight, I think it was because I felt like I owed her for getting me sober. That, and I thought she walked on water. I was also
very
wrong about most of it.

Though she probably wasn't going to forgive me, there was a possibility of us being friends down the road. For now, I couldn't stand the sight of her. I would have stuck with her if the situation were reversed. I stood and kissed her flushed cheek before watching her turn and walk out. This time her walking away was on my terms.

Letting go is the first step to happiness.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IN MY BLOOD

Two weeks had passed by in a blur, and not the fun alcohol induced kind. I had indulged in a few adult beverages but was still keeping in control. It wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Since LA, I had zero desire to give into the harder stuff. I intended on keeping it that way. Besides, being on tour and constantly having alcohol available made it hard not to have at least one occasionally.

Last night, we worked on putting the final touches on what was going to be our new album. As the ever so common marketing ploy, we released one song,
Bridges Burning
and put the album up for pre-sale. As of this morning, it was already climbing chart ranks. It was just one of the satisfactions of doing what you truly loved. It was in my blood.

Thankfully, the day had finally arrived. We now stood in Jake's driveway, surrounded by the autumn leaves. The crisp morning air was refreshing, and I was ready to get back to where my passion lived. Two tour buses sat fully stocked; vans were loaded with equipment, and we were ready to hit the road for the next month.

Luckily for Jake, Aubrey's dad owned private planes, and she could fly in for a few nights over the course of the tour. He purposely scheduled so that he and Blake would be able to fly home at least one overnight a week to be with the kids while we drove to the next venue. To say it was going to be a hectic tour would be a vast understatement, but we were as ready as we were going to be.

Since the episode at Pop's, I hadn't really heard from Bryn. We emailed a couple times back and forth, but it was mostly just finalizing the inevitable. She had a few things she wanted; I let her have them, that sort of thing. It was almost sad seeing how she turned into a person I didn't think she could be. She had turned into a cold bitch. Not marrying her seemed like the biggest favor I could have done myself.

On the upside, Kennedy and I continued to talk on a pretty regular basis. She was already growing the spa business, and my mom was thrilled to have her. Skylar was loving his new school and making lots of friends. Everything was as good as it was going to get for the time being, and that was good enough for me.

In the beginning, the band family rallied around me helping me get past the worst of it. Deep down even though I know I'm better off, the trauma of everything was still lingering. Most of my days were spent toying around with ideas for new songs, working on riffs with Blake, and building friendships with the GT guys.

Austin and I grew close. We ultimately ended up spending a lot of time together, since everyone else was pretty much in a relationship or having some type of fling. I found out what real crazy looked like, and it was in the form of his soon to be ex-wife, Carly. That bitch not only wore the crazy crown, she owned it and made Bryn look like a saint.

We sat at Pop's late after a long day of recording, I was sipping on my second beer of the night. Austin's phone rang for what had to be at least the tenth time in the span of an hour.

"It's Carly again," he sighed. "She just doesn't know when to give up."

"Women." Pop's said. It was as if there was no other explanation.

"She sounds like she's pretty desperate," I said shaking my head.

"Dude, you don't even know the half of it..." He took a sip of his beer. "Can I have a shot of JD?"

Pop's pulled a glass from under the bar and filled it a third of the way up. He seemed to sense something I didn't yet know.

"We met when I was nineteen; she was following GT for a while, and I dug her. She was smoking hot, Playboy material. At first, she was my dream girl. She was so supportive of anything to do with the band. She'd sell merch, help sell tickets, post flyers, that sort of thing. Then once, she got her claws into me everything changed. When we went to Vegas to record the Fine Again EP, she knew what an amazing opportunity it was. But it was very expensive, and we had to cover all the costs ourselves. Anyway, we didn't have enough money to bring her along, and she flipped. Like full on a hissy fit, meltdown." He took a long swig of Jack and paused as if he were remembering. "We were on the third day of recording when I called to check in on her. She wasn't answering her phone. I kept trying and trying. Finally, she answered, and her words were slurred, and I could barely make out what she was saying. Turns out she OD'd on some pain meds in an effort to get to come to Vegas for me to babysit her. Once she got there, she was happier than a clam. She wanted to go out every night, and her whole demeanor changed. I thought it was just a cry for help, so I stuck around. But, that wasn't the only thing. The last thing was right before we were getting ready to come here, I told her how much I was going to need to devote into GT now that we were signed and that it wouldn't be forever. She lost it all over again. Claimed I didn't love her, all sorts of crazy ass shit. She took off, and I couldn't find her. Two hours later, I used my phone to locate her. She was down by an old shipping yard. Drunk. As soon as she saw me, she stepped on the gas and slammed her Mustang head on into a carrier container. I had to pull her lifeless body out of the smoking car. That shit fucks with your head, man. I knew I had to walk away from her toxicness once and for all before I ended up succumbing to it."

After that night, I got it. Bryn was bad, slightly crazy, but not insane. There was some girl out there that would be my kind of crazy, and when I found her it would be love. Because isn't that what life is all about? Finding someone that drives you mad in all the right ways.

The part of the tour I was looking forward to most was sleeping. Lately, I was woken up on an almost nightly basis by Zach and Peyton going at it. Judging by last night, whatever they had going on was over because all I heard was her yelling at him how he used her and didn't give a shit about her. Yet, she was here to see him off.

"You don't give a fuck about me," Peyton cried. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I even dyed my hair for you!" She motioned to her now dark brown locks.

Zach sighed and pulled her into a hug. "I give a fuck. Actually, I give a lot of fucks. I’m a prostitute of feelings for you, babe. I just think that I need to focus solely on this tour. That's too hard to do if I'm worried about hurting you by being distant. It's for the best, especially for the time being. I already told you I was fucking sorry."

I felt bad for her and him. Being the girlfriend of an up and coming  musician was not an easy feat. As sorry as I felt, I wasn't about to play Dr. Phil and intervene with my two cents. Austin came and stood next to me.

"How long do you give it before she comes to meet up with us?" He asked.

Laughing, "I'm giving it a week tops. I've heard them." 

"Well we can be each other's wingmen on this tour. Nothing is holding us back or down from here on out!" Austin declared. "No more bowing for people that won't do the same."

He held out his fist, and I bumped it with mine.

This tour was a huge opportunity for them. It was nice to see that they were as appreciative as they were eager. They nailed every one of their songs they had been working on, and the venues were already mostly sold out. Joss was tagging along to be our merch girl, much to Derek's liking and Blake's dismay. It wasn't easy having your band-mate/ best-friend date your sister. Especially one with as tumultuous of a history as D had. Even more so, one that hooked up with the drummer of GT's girlfriend, Kelsey and the drummer himself, Tyler. Yeah, to say it was becoming a complicated clusterfuck of relationships between bands would be a vast understatement. Everyone dated within the circle, and it was beginning to get to the point that you needed Cliff Notes to figure out who belonged to who. The thought momentarily amused me.

I glanced over to see that Jake was kissing Aubrey hard, so I knew we would be off soon. Using my stealth moves, I got onto the bus and climbed into one of the top bunks. I already had my pillow and necessities loaded around me. This was one of the newer buses, so each bunk was equipped with its own TV and we had the satellite package. A huge step up from when we first started in our fifteen-passenger van.

The interior of the bus was a lot nicer too. Mostly black leather, the kitchen was filled with sleek, white cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The rear of the bus where the main bedroom would be was turned into a lounge where the bands could gather on our downtime. Jake went
balls to the wall
with 70" television, a PS4, Xbox One and a Wii, plus he incorporated a mock studio. We had six bunks and two bathrooms. Number one tour bus rule was, going number two unless of a true emergency was extremely off limits, especially for Derek. The dining area consisted of a six top table with black leather benches and a white quartz top.

The Battlescars boys were moving up in the world.

What happened next was a scene out of Home Alone. The one where they're on the airplane on their way to France and the mom is trying to figure out what's missing and all the sudden she screams "Kevin!" Everyone was apparently looking for me. Climbing from my comfortable blanket fort, I stepped down and showed my face.

"I've been here waiting for you guys to finish so we can go," I announced.

"On that note, time to hit the road!" Jake yelled.

Our driver would be Brett, Jake's normal security guard. Brett was pretty much part of the band by now. He's been with Jake for years now and is extremely good at his job. He doesn't put up with any shit. He's built like a brick shit house and drives this thing better than any of us does.

"All aboard," Brett yelled.

I climbed back into my blanket fort as he closed the curtain. Now was the perfect time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Blake peeked in through the curtain and asked if I wanted to go play the new Call of Duty with the rest of them. I declined and put my pillow over my face. Our first stop would be in Kentucky. We would be playing Ollie's, a cool old venue near Louisville. We had played there a few times, and I was looking forward to seeing my friend, Stacie. She was one of the bartenders there, and we just clicked. She didn't hold any punches and just told it how it was. She and I had this easy friendship where we could go a long time without talking and pick up right where we left off. It would be nice to see the familiar faces, along with the new ones.

With that thought, I began to drift.