Page 42 of Our Final Encore

I grab my phone, ignoring the obnoxious amount of social media notifications that I always wake up to. I should probably just turn them off at this point.

Opening my messages, I expect to see at least one from Opal. I’ve been so shitty at returning her messages lately. It’s not because I don’t want to talk, I’m just overwhelmed by the clusterfuck my life has turned into. And I’m ashamed at the way I’ve slipped into this habit of getting drunk after every show. I don’t want her to see how bad it is.

Yeah, this was always my dream, but I’m starting to realize it’s also a nightmare in some ways. I’m surrounded by drugs and alcohol constantly, and I feel like the only way to take the edge off of the pressure I feel is to give into the temptation.

She hasn’t texted me since yesterday. It’s weird because I thought I remembered texting her last night. Maybe we talked on the phone. My nights keep becoming more and more blurry and slurred together.

Scrolling through my recent calls, I realize we FaceTimed for twelve minutes last night. Wow, I can’t remember any of it.

I tap on her name and hold the phone to my ear. I need to hear her voice this morning. Instead of the ringing I expect to hear, a robotic voice crackles through the speaker telling me that the number I’m trying to reach is currently unavailable.

What the hell?

I try sending a text instead, but it doesn’t seem to go through either.

I guess I need to go get my phone fixed. One more thing to add to my to-do list. I feel like there’s just not enough time in the day anymore; all I do is eat something small, down some caffeine, drive to the next venue, play my set, and then get fucked up and do it all again the next day. As much as I hate to admit it, this shit is just as much work as any other job would be, and it’s equally exhausting.

I hear a light tap on my window, and I sit up enough to see Alexa’s blonde head peeking inside.

I roll down the manual window. “Yes?”

“Hey,” she smiles with an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.

“What’s up?” I scrub a hand down my face, not bothering to hide the irritation from my tone. She should know better than to bother me this early in the morning.

“Let’s go get breakfast. My treat.” Her eyes wander down to my bare chest for a moment before meeting mine again.

“Uh, no thanks. I need to figure out what’s wrong with my phone, I’m not gonna have time.”

The smile slips from her face. “Oh. I just thought you might want some cheering up after last night.”

I wish she would just spit out whatever it is she wants. “Last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I did, would I?”

“Well, your girlfriend broke up with you. Or you broke up with her, I couldn’t tell which. You seemed pretty upset, considering you were literally crying to me about it.” She places her hands on her hips and shrugs. “I was just trying to be a good friend, Alex. But fuck it, I guess you’d rather wallow in your misery in your typical fashion.”

My stomach turns upside-down, my brain only registering the first half of what she said. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Her eyes narrow on me.

“We…broke up?” I grab my phone again, quickly scrolling through all of our messages, searching for an explanation.

“Uh, yeah? That’s what you told me. You seriously don’t remember?”

“No.” I push my hand through my hair nervously, my heart banging against my chest.What the fuck have I done?How could I not remember something like that?

She backs up a few steps and glances down at the grass beneath her feet. “Shit… I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Yeah, me fucking too.”

“I just thought…” She rolls her eyes, and I’m getting more pissed off by the second. I wish she’d leave me the fuck alone already. “I thought maybe there was a chance you felt the same way about me.”

“Huh?” My brow wrinkles, and I glance over at her again.

“I thought maybe since things didn’t work out with your girlfriend that we could give this a try.”

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