Page 45 of Where You Are

“I don’t know what’s been pulling you down man, and you don’t have to tell me,” he goes on, “but do you think maybe you can start to come back from it? Heal? Whatever you need, I’ll help you get through it. I just want our solid andhappyleader back, and I know I’m not the only one.”

The one great love my heart has ever known vanished from my life like some kind of apparition and it hurts like hell, but I can’t give the heartache this kind of power over me; power to completely take me down and mold me into this dark shell of my former self. It’s only tragic if I let it be, and I owe my family, friends, and fans more than that.

I appreciate him not pressing me to tell him what’s been going on in my mind and my soul. I give him a nod and hold my hand out to shake.

“I’m coming back,” I assure him as he grips my hand. “Promise.”

“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he releases my hand, “because I don’t know if I can look out for your drunk ass again.” I laugh at his widened eyes and dramatic hand gestures. “I don’t know how the fuck you do it! Especially that time in L.A. when I went parkour all over the Four Seasons in my jock strap, or that other time I mixed vodka with Blast…” I let him regale me with his past drunken shenanigans, even though I was there for them all, as we leisurely walk our way back to the buses, just enjoying the feel of the lighthearted sensation of something like laughter coming over me again.

When I step back on the bus, I find Jack and Mayzie are up, sitting in the booth-style table, coffee cups in front of them. His arm is slung around her, his hand lazily stroking the skin of her arm with his fingertips as his other hand props up his obviously tired head which he rolls in my direction as I approach. His eyes widen and then slowly close as he shakes his head while Mayzie’s mouth opens when her eyes meet mine. She presses her lips together and places her elbows on the table steepling her fingers together.

“It’s alright,” I hold out a hand, placating her. I know they must’ve caught a glimpse or two of my state last night, and after the scare I had waking up this morning, followed by my talk with Chris, I’m one hundred and fifty percent confident that was the last time, and that they can count on my old self returning. “Seriously, you don’t have to say anything. I know I must look like shit, and I know I’ve been in a bad way lately, but I want to assure you, that’s behind me,” I say, sweeping a hand behind me in explanation.

Jack nods, but his jaw is clenched and I can’t fully read his expression while Mayzie seems to be relieved as she lets out a sigh.

“I’m really glad, Matt,” she responds with unmistakable sincerity in her eyes. “We both are.” She looks to Jack and back to me again. “Seriously, it means a lot that you’re okay.” She’s back to pressing her lips together and looking away. “But, maybe you could do with just splashing a little water on your face?” She holds her fingers in front of her mouth and averts her eyes and it’s then that I know.

I dash to the bathroom, and sure enough it is evident all over my face that Chris didn’tcompletelylet me get away with my behavior last night. Cue erupting laughter from my best friend and his wife from the kitchen area and I start to seethe as I take in the dancing horse-like figure on one side of my face and the smiling flowers on the other side. The childish mural across my face is capped off with the wordsUnicorns Rock!across my forehead. Just in case I needed one more reason not to have a repeat, Chris found a way to really drive the point home.

Well played, Chris.Lesson definitely learned.

* * *

At the next tour stop, our manager, Ron, calls for a quick meeting in the dressing room before sound check.

As I arrive and make my way towards a seat, I stop in front of Chris and give him a death glare, pointing vaguely at my face. Fortunately, Mayzie knew of a trick with lemon juice that helped me get most of the toddler-worthy artwork off my face so I won’t need an acid peel or laser surgery.

“What?” he asks, his face clueless for just a moment before I see the realization dawn. “Ohh. Right, sorry.” I continue to glare and his expression gets defensive. “Hey, it was a long time sitting there making sure you didn’t swallow your tongue or choke on your own vomit. I got bored,” he finishes with a shrug.

I roll my eyes but give him a brotherly slap on the shoulder as I continue past him to find a seat on the end of the couch.

The four of us have only been seated for about a minute before Ron walks in and wastes no time getting to the point.

“I want to address our need for a new agent.”

Ron managed us and handled our PR until we got more widely known and more in demand. We then signed with Wavelength PR to represent us. That didn’t last long however. They’ve unfortunately made some bad calls signing acts that haven’t paid off, and are likely going to have to close their doors in the coming months. And while it’s better to have a PR than not, Ron’s expertise dictates that it’s wiser to let the companies come to you instead of chasing them to take you on as a client.

“I just caught wind that Eli Costa from NoLimit PR has been sniffing around wanting to sign you guys, if and when things go south with Wavelength.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Josh supplies. “They’ve been around a few years but have picked up speed in the last two years. I think I read it in Rolling Stone.”

“That’s right,” Ron confirms. “We play our cards right, we could sign with NoLimit and your success could reach a new level.” Ron’s usually pretty stoic, but a trace of excitement can be detected in his tone and the raise of his eyebrows. “Chris, try to fucking calm yourself a little. Josh, try to clean up your act. Jack and Matt, keep doing what you’re doing,” he says, but lets his eyes linger on me a second longer. I’m not too dense that I don’t pick up on that hint. He means for me to go back to doing what I was doing. He doesn’t have to worry.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Melanie

I click “send”on the email containing the graphics I came up with for a small bakery chain here on the beautiful island of Flores, where Sasha and I ended up being sent for our new jobs with Asri, the resort chain she applied with.

It’s my kind of weather - warm, tropical, and humid. But it’s actually also one of the rainiest places on the globe. While the sunny days are pressingly beautiful, there are a lot of heavy downpours, and despite my intentions to start living again, I can’t help but welcome it. When those first drops come down, it’s a soothing relief to my soul; like it’s trying to wash away the pain. I never thought I’d be so irritated by sunny days, especially since some more time has passed. It just feels like the sun relentlessly shines, urging me to be cheery when I don’t want to be.

We’ve been here for six months, and my job was done within the first two. The head honchos of Asri were very happy with the logos I came up with for their main trademark. I created a fluid, serene image of waves in indigo, jade, and seafoam. They said it was perfect, and so was the abstract blossom image in pinks and oranges I put together for their spa.

My job finished, however, meant I no longer qualified for on-site housing. While I was happy to find my own place, since the job payed handsomely, Sasha was having none of that. She insisted I room with her on-site, and the manager doesn’t seem to mind. Besides, I think it’s worked out for the best. While I find comfort in solitude, I feel the tiniest glimmer of hope feebly glowing in the depths of my being, telling me not to go down that road; to not become a reclusive, empty shell; that one day I may want to live joyfully again. I don’t know how, or when, or if it’s even possible, but that one tiny light shines just bright enough for me to see, not letting me turn completely to the dark.

In our time here, I’ve seen so many shades of my favorite color. From the jade in the water of the crater lakes to the most vibrant, bold, lush jungles. Yes, I’ve gone out and seen things. While I’d be happy to hole up in our suite and pretend it was any old room in any old place, I know I need to strive to move forward to keep from crumbling to a point where I can’t be put back together - because I know I’ll need to. I have to have faith that someday I’ll be back where I belong. In the meantime, distracting myself while I continue to breathe and put one foot in front of the other is what I need to do to survive.

And so, having my friend around, pushing me to get out once in a while, or to attend one of her yoga classes seems to be what I need, no matter how much I want to resist. I need her to push me while I’m not ready to push myself. And I still get enough alone time living with her. Sasha happens to be a little hottie with a yoga body, and therefore has an abundance of male admirers sniffing around, none of which are good enough for her, but she’s too kind and fun-loving to turn down their offers to go on hikes or boat excursions. This gives me doses of the alone time I crave to work, and when I’m feeling self-loathing, torture myself with memories of Matt.

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