Page 23 of Wish We Were There

Despite how disappointed Taylor had been when Parker had texted him to postpone, knowing it would only be by a day helped soothe the worst of the sting. Taylor was especially curious about how the interview had gone—Jason Daugherty was infamous in their corner of the music world. He’d met the man once or twice, after his scathing breakup album had sent his career into a nosedive. The man seemed nice enough the few times Taylor had met him, but that album cast him in an entirely different light. As far as Taylor knew, this interview with Parker was the first he’d done in at least a year.

Mostly, though, he was looking forward to just being with Parker again; everything felt so much more manageable when they were together. Alone, he started feeling overwhelmed and anxious far too easily, thinking about everything that still needed to be done to get the Caesura Room fit to actually open. But he and Parker working on it together made it a worthwhile use of his time, something productive to direct his energy into, instead of an endless, fruitless time suck.

The next day, he arrived early to decide what they would work on. The carpet in the upstairs green room would need to be replaced, so he figured they might as well rip it all up—there was more carpet in the box office and the manager’s office that was in better shape, but he wanted everything to match, so it all had to go. It would be a difficult task alone, with only one good arm, but the two of them could tackle it much more easily.

The main entrance door swung open, loud enough for Taylor to hear from the green room. A moment later, footsteps echoed on the wood flooring in the pit.

“You here, Taylor?” Parker’s voice called, and Taylor stifled a grin.

“Up here!” he called toward the stairs. The sound of Parker’s footsteps reverberated through the narrow staircase a moment later, then the man appeared in the doorway, his dark hair tousled. He smiled, and Taylor smiled back—then his eyes flickered down to the graphic t-shirt Parker was wearing, and he laughed.

“Is that an Astral Complex shirt?” Taylor chuckled. The band name was emblazoned across the shirt, the letters thin and golden in an art nouveau style, and a depiction of an astrolabe beneath them. Parker laughed, looking down at the shirt.

“Yeah, I remembered I had this after my interview yesterday,” he said, sounding sheepish. “Figured it might give me some street cred.”

“Good thing you didn’t wear it to the interview,” Taylor teased. “How did that go?”

“You know, surprisingly well,” Parker replied. “But I can tell you about it while we’re working. What are we doing today?”

An hour later they had most of the green room carpet rolled up and set in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, and Taylor had heard all about the surprisingly tame interview with the Synesthesia frontman. He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed it hadn’t been juicier, or glad that the troubled man seemed to be doing so well.

“Did you get to hear any of the album he’s working on?” Taylor asked, and Parker shook his head.

“No, but I’m hoping he’ll do an episode of the podcast when he releases it,” he chuckled.

They moved on to the other rooms to rip out the carpet, talking a little more about the interview, then the next interviews Parker had lined up, which somehow led to reminiscing about their college days—when pop-punk had still been cool, and the emo revival was gaining traction.

Parker was quiet after that, which made Taylor nervous as they finished up the last chunk of carpet in the manager’s office. When they had rolled it up and placed it with the rest, the other man blurted out,

“So this is really it for you, huh?”

Taylor froze, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

Parker gestured around. “All this. The venue. I guess I was just thinking about... I mean, Synesthesia hasn’t come out with an album in three or four years now, but Jason’s still getting back in the game. It just made me think about you, and the band, and... Well, if you’re certain about stepping away from it all.”

Taylor looked away, considering it and fiddling with the corner of the ripped-up carpet.

“I don’t think I want to make music anymore,” he finally said. The admission sent guilt pulsing through his chest. “I’m just... over that part of it. But the industry is all I know, and I do still want to be involved in some way... So, yeah, I guess the Caesura Room is it for me, if you think of it like that. I like the idea of still being involved in the music world, but just in a different way.”

He paused, then chuckled bitterly before adding, “I’m lucky Get Well Soon had gotten so well known. I wouldn’t have had the money to get the venue open otherwise. And I don’t think I’ll have a problem keeping it booked once it does open. So... I’m grateful for everything that made this possible, but I’m ready to move on, you know?”

The words felt more like an admission than Taylor had meant, so he couldn’t bring himself to look over at Parker for a long moment. The other man was silent. Finally, Taylor couldn’t stand wondering about his reaction anymore and forced himself to look back over at Parker.

He had a small smile on his face, though it wavered when Taylor met his eyes. The way his sweet expression flickered into embarrassment made Taylor’s heart skip a beat.

“I get that,” Parker said quickly, then chuckled. “I’m glad you feel so sure about it. I know if it were me... I don’t know how I’d be keeping all this together. I feel like I’m way too old already to try and get into a new industry, even one that’s adjacent like this.”

Taylor smirked, glancing away. “Don’t say that shit to me, man. We’re not that old, not yet.”

Parker laughed. His eyes were soft with affection when Taylor looked at him again, and this time the expression lingered for a long moment before Parker turned away again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Not yet.”

The next two weeks passed in a similar fashion. Parker had committed to one day a week, which typically ended up being when they got the most work done, but Taylor still tried to get into the venue at least once or twice in between to take care of smaller things on his own. He’d called a contractor to take a look at all the sound equipment and a local company to replace all the flooring, both of which came with Zed’s recommendation. He was steadily making his way through the list of things that needed to be done before the venue could be opened. In a month or two, he could start thinking about hiring staff, which was daunting.

Luckily, though, he wasn’t there yet; and he could spend his days researching everything else that he still needed to do, like all the permits he’d need to apply for to get the venue up and running. His one day each week with Parker was a welcome reprieve from everything clattering around in his head—plus it gave him a much-needed excuse to socialize. Kylie still texted him almost daily, but he hadn’t heard from either Dean or Angie since the dinner. Parker and the Caesura Room were really his only reasons for leaving the house.

“Don’t forget you have your appointment tomorrow to get your cast off finally,” Parker said cheerfully as he walked in on the third week. Taylor laughed.

“Trust me, I remember,” he said, holding up his arm. “You’re picking me up, yeah?”

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