Chapter 12 Rhyit
I cannot believe this motherfucker got me in a suit and tie. I haven’t worn anything outside of my leather jacket and boots in public in half a decade, and here I am tying a tie in the bathroom of our hotel.
I wasn’t lying when I told Bristol I couldn’t go home. It’s not because I don’t want to, but because my family doesn’t want to see me. They watch the news, they see the kind of lifestyle I live and how far away from the church I have run. My dad is less so than my mom. My mom forgets she has a son, concentrating fully on my little sisters. I send them both signed vinyls of whatever album we currently have available every year for Christmas just to spite her. I have no idea what she does with them, but I know those girls will appreciate it someday when they’re older. I wonder if they’ll be there today. My mom loved Alex. It would be nice to see Claire and Julie.
I comb my shoulder length black hair back and style it so it sits out of my face. I don’t normally care about what my hair looks like, but today I need to look presentable for Alex. Not that he’d care. But I care.
Yesterday when I left his Strat in the casket with him I almost broke. When we got to the house and the roadies dropped it off, I wanted to smash it. Hold it over my head and watch it break into a thousand pieces, but that’s not what Alex would have wanted. He would have wanted me to keep it, but I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t look at it everyday sitting in its stand collecting dust. I could have donated it, but Alex would have been pissed if some rich prick had it sitting in his living room, and he only played it when he had other rich pricks over for cocktail parties. I laugh lightly at the imagery.
I inspect my face in the mirror, applying a small amount of Vaseline to the cracked skin below my right nostril. My mind goes back to the conversation I had with Bristol last night, like it has multiple times since I left the cold little treehouse in the wee hours of the morning. Her telling me I was headed down the same path, plays on repeat in my head. I’m not. I know I’m not. I can control myself, I don’t use heroin.
Garrett meets me in the lobby of the hotel; I spot him as soon as the elevator doors open with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“You look like shit.” He says with a smile. “Where’d you get this suit?”
“I stole it out of your dad’s side of the closet after I got done fucking your mom.” I reply with a wink. He grimaces at the thought and then smirks at me.
“You obviously haven’t seen my mom. She looks just like me with boobs.” He replies, and I grimace at the imagery of a gangly woman with slicked back hair and coke bottle glasses.
“Touché.” I smile as we walk out of the sliding doors.
“All jokes aside, you okay?” Garrett asks, concern lining his features. I turn away from his stare and look towards the parking lot. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face as I assess whether or not I’m okay.
“No.” I answer after several moments. It’s as honest as I can be. I’m not okay, don’t know if I ever will be.
“Yeah, I hear that.” He says, exhaling loudly.
“But life moves on right?” I reply, forcing the emotion down.
“Does it? Or do you just train yourself to live without them?” Garrett replies, his head tilted towards the parking lot in front of us.
The black town car pulls up ,saving me from an answer that would pull the emotion back up. I don’t want to learn to live without Alex. I don’t want life to go on.
Garrett and I sit in silence as we approach the graveside service. The paparazzi are standing on the side of the road like vultures waiting to pick apart their next victim. I hate that they’re here, witnessing this private occasion. I pull the Raybans out of my suit pocket and set them on my face. No way I’m letting these asshats see me looking anything other than stoic.
The rear door to the car opens, and the flashes start instantly. I haven’t even stepped out of the car, and they’re already heckling me. Jesus. I clench my teeth so hard, I’m surprised they don’t crack as I step out of the car. My mouth sets into a straight line as I walk the designated path to the service. I spot Boston talking to Bristol as Garrett and I make our way through the throng of people. Bristol looks stunning in her fishnet tights, leather skirt, and button down black shirt. Her platform black combat boots help her short stature, and they look like she takes no shit. Her eyes are hidden behind black shades, but I don’t need to see her eyes to know she just checked me out. We’ve been checking each other out since I had my first boner. Hell she caused it.
“Garrett!” Bristol squeals when she spots our manager. She stops her conversation with Boston and bolts to Garrett. Wrapping her arms around him in a full embrace, she holds onto him like he’s her long lost brother. Jealousy pulls at me, she wasn’t as excited to see me as she is our douche canoe of a manager. I lie, the guys alright, I’m just being petty at this point.
Once they're done hugging like he just survived the Titanic sinking, she turns to me and gives me a light pat on the shoulder. A pat on the shoulder. Like I’m her weird uncle she doesn’t want to get too close to, like I didn’t have my tongue against her lips last night begging for entry. Fuck that. I pull her towards me, and at the impact of our bodies, she lets out a soft sigh. Her body feels so damn good against mine. I’ve thought about her a lot, more than I’d like to admit. I still sing our song every night for shit’s sake.
“You don’t have to fight me.” I whisper into her hair as we hold our embrace.
“I’m not.” She replies. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
I let her go unwillingly, I miss her warmth as soon as her body is away from mine. I’m acutely aware of the audience we have and the paps waiting in the wings ready to snap and misconstrue every action. The people surrounding us start making their way towards the gravesite, signaling the start of the funeral. Eve, Bristol’s little sister, walks beside Boston and Garrett, while Bristol and I hang back.
“I cannot believe we’re here.” Bristol sighs. “It still doesn’t feel real.”
“Tell me about it.” I nod as we all take our places surrounding the white casket. Bristol comes to stand next to me which I appreciate more than she will ever know. With Boston on my left and Bristol to my right, it feels like a homecoming of sorts, like bringing the family back together.
The pastor starts with an opening prayer and the service draws on, the only thing I can think about is that Alex would have hated this. He would have hated the monotony of it all, the ashes to ashes, dust to dust bullshit wasn’t him. I turn to Bristol who is staring at the casket with the saddest expression on her beautiful face. It’s how everyone looks right now I notice as my eyes track the people surrounding the hole.
“Wanna do something crazy?” I whisper, her eyes turn to me, and for a single moment, she looks like my Pistol. The one person outside of Alex who was always ready and willing to cause a ruckus with me. Her blue eyes light up with a mischievousness I’ve missed in the years we’ve been apart. But as quickly as the look came, it’s gone again. Her face morphs back into a solemn expression. The pastor opens the mic up for anyone who would like to say a few words. I grab Bristol’s hand and pull her with me, my feet moving before I even have the chance to think too much about it. Her hand melds in mine as we take the few steps to the front of the mourners.
I step up to the mic and immediately regret the decision to come up here.. Bristol fidgets at my side, and I can feel her eyes burrowing into the side of my face. Fuck it. Alex would be so damn proud to have us up here for him.
“Hello-” I croak into the microphone, “I’m Rhy-...” I stop myself, I’m not Rhyit today. I’m Andrew. Alex’s best friend. Son of Tracy and Allen Denson. Alex’s band mate and brother. “I’m Andrew. And I’m or I was…” I stammer over the next words. My throat tightens “Alex’s best friend. He was the brother I chose and the best friend and bandmate a guy like me could ask for.”