“Why are you being so difficult?” She stands from the couch and takes a step closer to Rhyit. My hackles rise, she shouldn’t be that close to him and should she touch him, I’m going to jail.
“I’m not being difficult. You’re offering suggestions, and I’m telling you where to shove them.” He replies, leaning back against the table, giving her a cocky smirk.
“It wasn’t a suggestion or a request. You will play in Seattle in two weeks.” She spits.
“Then it was a threat.” Boston sneers. “We don’t take too kindly to threats.”
“Yeah, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Rhyit quips, and I have to run my tongue against my teeth to keep from smiling.
“I don’t understand what the big goddamn deal is,” Andy huffs, “you were all there together a few weeks ago.”
“The Plight was there almost a month ago. With Alex. I’m not performing there. I will not show up. You can fine me or pull my contract, I don’t fucking care, but it’s not happening.” He yells the last part, his voice holding so much anger I cringe.
“The fans are going to be really disappointed.” She says, twisting her lips. “With Bristol being in Seattle that night too, it would have been amazing to see all four of you together.” She turns to me, her expression malicious. Like father, like daughter.
“Bristol wasn’t there.” Rhyit says, his focus moving from her to me. “She was at her wedding in LA.” He shakes his head, looking back to Andy like she’s an idiot.
“Nope.” She pops the p. “I saw her with my own two eyes, standing on the side stage, mouthing the words to Pistol in her wedding dress. It was seriously so romantic.” She clutches her chest theatrically, but I can’t focus on her. My head tilts up to find Rhyit staring at me, his mouth opening and closing multiple times, like he wants to say something but can’t form the words.
“Andy, you need to leave.” Boston commands. Andy’s head rushes back and forth between us as we stare at each other, me biting the skin at my bottom lip, searching for the words, and Rhyit who’s searching for something, anything to say, and his face wracked with hurt and something that looks a lot like anger.
“Oh shit, you didn’t know?” Andy says, her eyes widening at the realization.
“Fuck, leave Andy!” I yell as I try to keep the tears at bay.
“Sorry.” She murmurs as she walks to the front of the bus to leave. Once the door closes behind her, Rhyit takes a deep breath, and I follow his motion.
“This whole time…” he whispers like he can’t believe it. “This whole time you’ve preached about the fucked up things that I’ve done, making me feel like a piece of shit for hurting you years ago, when you had this up your sleeve. You’re a fucking hypocrite. I’ve owned up to my mistake, I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not, but you; you’ve pretended this whole time that you are the victim, when you just might be the fucking villian.”
His words hit me like a semi truck, knocking me back against the cushion of the couch. “You don’t know why I was there.” I whisper, not recognizing my own voice right now. Maybe I am the villain in this, maybe I was never the good guy.
“But you were there! You saw Alex before he died, I KNOW YOU DID!” He screams, his voice rattling the windows of the bus, and I recoil, not in fear but in self preservation. I did. I saw him. I spoke with him. I want to crawl into a hole and not come out. I push my lips together almost painfully as my chin wobbles.
“Rhy, don’t talk to her like that.” Boston says. He’s attempted to stay out of this altercation, but Rhyit screaming at me has apparently pushed him.
“You knew too, so fuck you, Boston. I asked you, I asked you in New Mexico, and you told me she’d tell me in time. When?” He snaps back to me. “When were you going to tell me? Next week? Next year?” He stops, realization dawning on him before I can say anything. His eyes close, and I can feel the pain radiating off of him. “Never. You were never going to tell me.” His eyes flood, and I want so badly to get up and hold him, but I can’t. He’s too angry with me.
“Let’s talk about this, Andrew, please.” I say.
“You had a choice, you made the wrong one.” He says, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “You would hate me if I did this to you.” He’s using my own words against me, the same words I said to him years ago on a deserted street. I stand from the couch, the consequences of this secret exploding horrendously in front of me. I used to hope that one day Rhyit would feel even an ounce of the pain I felt from his betrayal, but looking at him now, I can tell he got more than his fair share. Guilt floods me as I stare at him, guilt for not telling him sooner, guilt for the last words I said to Alex, and guilt for betraying Rhyit’s trust worse than he did mine.
“I’m so sorry.” I sob, voice cracking. “I should have told you I was there.” My chest caves, and my throat burns as I try to tell him.
“You asked me the last conversation I had with him, and I was honest with you. Fuck, I’ve been nothing but honest with you.” His hand finds his hair, and he runs his fingers through his scalp aggressively. “What was the last thing he said to you?”
Chapter 28 Bristol Past
The plane descends through the gray clouds towards the runway. SeaTac has one of the scariest runways I’ve ever seen, water and a cliff on one side and I-90 on the other. I close my eyes as the landing gear clicks open below my feet, the falling feeling makes my stomach twist, and I wish I wasn’t still in this stupid dress. When I boarded the plane in LA after figuring out where they were playing tonight, I didn’t have a bag or any extra clothes so I’ve been dealing with people’s stares and hushed whispers for the past two hours. This isn’t normal attire, I know that, but damn, give a girl a break.
Tires screech as the plane brakes. I sigh when both sets of wheels hit the tarmac, and the plane decreases the speed. When we finally reach the gate, I practically tackle the other patrons on the flight to get to the door. It doesn’t help that the skirt to my dress could hide small children inside it, and it hits everyone with an aisle seat on my way through. The stewardess’ eyes widen when she sees me barreling down the center aisle, and she quickly unlatches the door to the plane and lets me out.
“Thank you.” I mumble, wondering for the thousandth time what the hell I’m doing here. I shouldn’t be here, I know that. I shouldn’t have run away from my own wedding, I know that too, but sometimes you do crazy things for…love.
When the song came on earlier, I knew it was fate. It hurt like a mother fucker to hear those lyrics, my lyrics, but I couldn’t stop the torrent of different emotions than hit me. Longing being the one that held tight, the one that outshined all the others. Not betrayal or embarrassment, not the pain that was inflicted; no, it was missing him, needing him like a damn limb. I need to hear him tell me we’re over. That there’s no coming back from what had already happened, that he’s over me. I need to feel that pain slice through me so I can close that chapter of my life. That’s the trouble with the unfinished parts of your life, you don’t know what could have been, what could still be or what will never be. It’s easy to say you’re over somebody if you can’t see them, but it’s hard to tell someone ‘you’re not what I want anymore’ when they’re right in front of you.
I trudge through the airport, catching strange looks all the way through before making it outside. The loading and unloading lanes are packed with cars, and I internally groan. I don’t have time for this. I walk to the end, searching for a cab but coming up empty. A guy in a purple windbreaker suit stands at the very end, leaning against a yellow cab. The color combination is striking, but I walk over anyway.
“Can you take me to the Kingdome, please?” I ask. He looks up from the comic book he’s reading and has to do a double-take.