Page 6 of For The Record

Three, two, one…

“And you couldn’t even tell your mother? How long ago did this happen?” Edna says, sounding like she’s on the verge of tears. My heart sinks in my chest. I never meant to hurt them, but I also really don’t want to eat dinner with them now.

I peek my head out of the kitchen to see Bruce placing a large hand on Edna’s shoulder. “Edna, honey…”

Staring at the bottle of gin, I put the cap back on, feeling a bit woozy. I haven’t eaten since noon, so the choice to down two shots in quick succession was probably one of my worse decisions of the day.Oh well.

“It’s showtime, Skye Holland,” I say, and laugh out loud at the sound of my voice.

Tonight should be… interesting.

#

@RyderBlack7: Can’t wait to be in the studio! Looking forward to recording my debut album and I hope you guys like it

@LeoJPerez: @RyderBlack7 Congratulations on being signed and welcome to @VolumeRecordsOfficial

@ARostova: @RyderBlack7 Glad to have you here, maybe we should collab sometime

@RyderBlack7: @ARostova Maybe we should…

@RyderBlackSource: BREAKING: Ryder and Alina Rostova just tweeted about a collaboration. Could she be making a feature on his new album?

Chapter 4: Skye Holland

Here are the facts.

First, I dumped Ryder Black six months ago at a Starbucks, over voicemail. Not the classiest of breakups, but it wasn’t the classiest of times for either of us.

Second, Ryder asked me to use my work connections to help him get an agent. When I refused, he gave me such a long silent treatment that I believed he had died. It was only when he dropped by to talk to Poppy that I realized he was alive.

Third, he tried to give me the Pandora music note bracelet to make up for it, on my birthday. I’ve worn it ever since and dumped him a month later after I found a mysterious thousand-dollar charge on my credit card for a guitar that I couldn’t afford.

I loved him. Something about him, at least. The idea of him. The vague, hazy outline of him, with all the components in all the right places: guitar, leather jacket, slicked-back hair. Bad-boy attitude. Heart of gold. Love for his sister and mom. A passion for music that consumed his whole soul and being and left no room for anything or anyone else.

I loved the bits and pieces of him that I saw, but I didn’t love the whole. Yet I gave everything—sacrificed myself on his altar—because I thought that if I was close to him, maybe his talent would rub off. Maybe I could be something, someone other than who I was. Maybe he had seen me, seen something in me that I had never been able to find by myself.

I had loved that music note bracelet. Even after throwing out the flowers he’d given me and returning his sweatshirts—I kept the bracelet. It was a part of me that I refused to lose.

But this, tonight? Dinner with his parents? It’s a reminder that I’ve already lost all of him, and whatever we might have been, a long, long time ago. And it’s as painful a reminder as any, with his mother’s usually sunny expression dour, his father’s face stern. The two of them have been like parents to me. Now, I have no one. Nothing.

“So, Ryder, when were you going to tell me that you and Skye broke up?” Edna asks. She’s moved past playing the part of a heartbroken mother and is now onto the role of a nagging,give me a wedding to plan and grandchildren to spoilkind of suburban housewife. “Were you going to do it when you flew home for Christmas, five months from now?”

“Mom, can we talk about something else? Didn’t you guys come here to celebrate you know, more recent news like me getting signed to Volume Records?” Ryder says.

For once, I agree with the words that are coming out of his mouth. At least I’m not facing him. The seating arrangement awkwardly places me at the head of the table, between Poppy and Edna. Swallowing a creamy bite of tuna casserole, I muster up the courage to speak. “Yeah, I think it’s a great accomplishment.”

Edna turns her scrutinizing eyes on me, reminding me of my mother. As sweet as she is, Mrs. Black is also extremely formidable when she wants to be. “I see. So, Skye, if you think my son is so accomplished, why did you break up with him?”

I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and both sides are slowly caving in, threatening to crush me. I cast a desperate glance at Poppy, who thankfully takes that time to look up from her phone—a work email, judging by the pictures of shoes on the screen—and reads the SOS printed on my expression. She stands up. “More wine, anyone?”

Edna gladly volunteers, her face softening slightly. “I’ll come with you.”

My stomach unclenches from its tight knots and I eat another forkful of tuna casserole, the room growing silent as I’m left alone with Bruce and his son. Eyeing the tension between them, I try to understand it. Bruce, from what I’ve heard of him, is a mechanic who owns an auto body shop, inherited fromhisfather. When I was dating Ryder, he always told me about how his father wanted him to stay in Kentucky and take over the family business from him. I guess this is the last nail in the coffin of a dream that will never come to be.

“So, Skye,” Bruce says suddenly, taking a swig of his beer. “You’re in the Hollywood business, right?”

In this town, almost everyone is. I nod and smile, unsure of where this conversation is going. “I’m a publicist, yes. I work for Volume, too, now.”

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