by D. Kelly
“And you still can, just without me. You guys can hold auditions, find my replacement, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing my soul.”
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
He shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean you can convince me to stay. Honestly, even though we haven’t actually talked about it, I don’t think Wyatt is far behind me. He’s getting married soon, and you know as well as I do he and Anna deserve to have a life together after all this time.”
His words sound like they’re dipped in static. I hear them all, but there’s a serious disconnect between them and me.
“Say something, Sawyer.”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you it’s okay to just quit? It’s not, Noah. It’s not fucking okay at all. Westons aren’t fucking quitters!”
He flinches, but now that the floodgates have opened, there’s no holding back my fury.
“Look at everything we’ve built! Look around, Noah, because once you quit, it’s going to affect us all. You know damn well we’re not going to replace you. Once you’re gone, it’s all over. For everyone. Are you ready to have that on your conscience?”
Noah’s anger replaces his sadness. “You don’t get to blame this all on me. I told you years ago I was going to want to stop touring one day. It doesn’t mean the band has to break up … maybe we just take a long break.”
With a snort, I lean back in my seat. “Yeah, because that will change your mind. Why are you doing this? Tell me one good reason you have to end this.”
He flashes me a sad smile and leans back too. “I’m lonely, Sawyer. I want to fall in love, get married, and have a bunch of fucking kids. I want to start the rest of my life. Is that so hard to understand?”
His impassioned plea hits me right in the heart. This is all Noah has ever wanted, and he’s given us eight years already. What kind of asshole am I to put my own happiness before his?
“No, it’s not. Look,” I pause and run my hands through my hair before standing. “Can we put a pin in this until tomorrow morning? Give me a day to let it soak in so we can come up with a plan. Better to talk to everyone as a united front anyway.”
“Yeah, sure. Are you pissed at me?”
Noah raises his fear-filled eyes to mine, and I can’t help but soften a bit. No matter what, he’s my twin and my best friend. His feelings matter more than our job.
“I am, but I’m a dick, and that’s how I’m wired. I’ll get over it. You’re what matters right now, not my feelings.”
He sucks in an audible breath. “Your feelings always matter, Sawyer, it’s why I’ve hung on for as long as I have already.”
Fuck, if I didn’t feel like a big enough dick before, I sure do now. “Tomorrow,” I say, clearing my throat, trying to speak over the huge lump in it.
“Same time, same place?”
“Yeah.”
I leave him alone looking miserable and lock myself in my room. After putting “Last Resort” by Papa Roach on blast, I finally give into the frustrated tears that were begging to give way while we were fighting. I’ve got to come up with a plan to at least give our fans a chance to say goodbye.
Who am I kidding? I need this more than anything. Time to prepare for a final farewell before the best time of my life goes away for good.
Twenty-four hours after our last attempt at talking, I’m sitting on the couch in the bus sipping my coffee and bracing myself to battle this out with Noah. I’m so fucking angry with him, but the worst part is I know it’s an irrational anger fueled by my own fear and insecurity about what happens next. I don’t want to be a has been … A featured story on Where Are They Now? five years down the road. None of it is Noah’s fault, but dammit, I still expected more from him since he’s my brother. He knows what this means to me.
That’s it in a nutshell though; I know what this means to him. Noah was never going to be in this for life.
Just when I thought maybe he was going to sleep in like normal, his door opens. He looks worse than he did yesterday, and my guilt intensifies.
“You still look like shit.”
“So do you,” he counters, plopping down next to me.
“Change your mind by any chance?”
“Nope,” he replies while pulling on his socks.
“All right then, here’s what I came up with. I’ll back your decision to leave, but you have to agree to one more tour.”
A hurtful expression is quickly replaced by one of anger. “Sawyer, fuck! I already told you, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me!”
“Yup, I heard you loud and clear, but here’s the thing. We’ve already announced the acoustic album. Technically, we don’t need to tour for it, but even if we wrap it up and release it, how is that fair to our fans? You know, the people who put food on our table and pad our bank accounts?”
He slinks down further in his seat and rubs his eyes. “Tell me everything.”
“It’s going to suck for everyone, but if we wrap up the album ASAP and tour again immediately after this one, we can call it a farewell tour. On the plus side, we can keep it super low-key. We won’t need opening acts or high-energy numbers. It can be the four of us, our instruments, and smaller crowds.”
“Keep going” he encourages, looking up at me now.
“Well, Warren will have to figure out all the details with the label and shit, but it will give the band a chance to say goodbye, and the fans too.”
“I’m not opposed to making new music, I’m just not willing to give up any more of my life riding across the country in a bus.”
I think about his point for a minute. “I’m not a fan of bands who retire only to make a big comeback. I know most of them do it, but I don’t want that to be us. I guess we can figure all of that out later.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I hate the disappointment he’s shrouded in, but there’s not much I can do about it.
“Look, Noah, I’m not unsympathetic here. I understand more than anyone what you want from your life. Our visions may be different, but I still want you to be happy. I know doing another tour is not what you want, but in two years you’ll be done, you can live your life, and you’ll be doing it the right way instead of screwing our fans.”
No matter how encouraging I want to be to him, I still can’t help feeling like I’ve been fucked, and I’m pretty sure Darren is going to agree.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“I’m probably going to be mad for a while. It’s not your fault, but this seriously fucks with my vision for us and the future. I’m going to miss this, miss us.”
Noah smiles and turns his body toward mine. “You should go solo, Sawyer.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can, and you should. You were made for amazing things, and you’re so fucking talented, you can do anything you put your mind to.”
“Except convince you to stay.”
“You could do that, too, and you know it. But I appreciate you’re not trying to, that you respect me enough to help me figure out how to get out of this. There was a lot I didn’t think about, and you’re spot on. Our fans deserve more from us, and I’m willing to follow your plan. I’m not happy about it, but as long as there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, I can deal with it.”
“I really thought we’d have another twenty years at this, at least another ten.”
Noah pats my shoulder with my sullen words. “Deep down you knew that was never going to happen. We’re all family men, Sawyer, even you. You might not be willing to admit it to yourself now, but whenever you look down at your little namesake, your face says it all.”
Saylor.
My niece is my happy place. When Diane told me she was naming her daughter after her favorite person, I didn’t think much of it; my sister can be a jokester. But after Saylor was born, I was the first to hold her after her parents. They told me her name while she was tucked safely in my arms; I almost lo
st it. Never in a million years would I have thought they’d name their baby after me. Or, as Rob pointed out, the closest, cuter version of me they could come up with.
“I’ve never denied wanting a family. Kids at least … women, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”
“One day you’re going to meet someone who makes you question everything you thought about yourself. I can’t wait to see it happen and watch you learn to let someone into your world.”
“Don’t hold your breath, none of that is happening anytime soon. Let’s shower and swap buses so we can talk to the guys. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long-ass day.”
“Hang on a sec,” he says as I stand. “Are we okay? I need to know you and I are good.”
Noah always heaps the loaded questions on me at the worst times.
“We will be okay?” He cringes at my questioning tone. “Look, I’m just all hurt feelings and shit right now. Once Darren knows the deal, the two of us will go off and lick our wounds while you and Wyatt plan your happily ever afters. Things will be fine sooner or later.”
Noah stands and hugs me. I return his hug but pull away first before I get choked up. Days like today make me wish I could be as open with my feelings as Noah is. Maybe someday.
“Love you, little brother,” he calls out to me as I head toward the bathroom. I flip him off but reply with an “I love you” of my own. His answering laughter hits me like a lightning bolt. My world is upside down right now, but Noah is happy, and that’s the only other thing that matters to me.
Breathless – One Month Before The Tour
“Jesus! Why does this day have to be so jam-packed with shit to do?” Darren bitches as he plops down into the recliner.
“Maybe because Sawyer is still dragging ass on the title song for the new album?” Wyatt offers.
I shoot him the evil eye. “Fuck you. You can’t rush perfection, and this song is the most important one on the album. It’s not my fault I’m in a creative slump.”
No, that honor goes to Noah. Ever since he decided to retire, my creativity is fleeting on a good day and non-existent on the rest. They all suspect what’s going on, but no one actually has the balls to say it out loud. That’s probably best.
“It will come to you, and when it does, it will be incredible,” Noah encourages lightly. Which, of course, makes me feel like an even bigger asshat for being so bitter inside. I need to get out of this slump. Maybe getting laid would help.
“All right, you guys. Slammed has confirmed Belle Dixson will be attending the show tonight, and she’s bringing a plus one. We need to be on our best behavior if we want this to work out,” Warren announces while slamming a massive file on the kitchen table.
“What, are you afraid we’re going to scare her away?”
He glares at me. “You. I’m afraid you’ll be inappropriate or piss her off. We need her on our side, Sawyer. Slammed is the only magazine out there right now with their integrity still intact. No sexing her up either.”
As if. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, she’s cute but not my type.”
His curious nature gets the best of him. “Why is that? Most men think she’s hot.”
My reply is instant. “Because she’s a reporter and you want her to meet up with us monthly for a year. You’re just asking for trouble. Nothing screams potential stalker, security risk, or stage-five clinger more than a single woman with a press pass. Do not give her my number either. She can go through you to get to us if she needs to.”
“You can give her my number if you want to. I haven’t seen her, but if Sawyer says she’s cute, I’ll deal with the risks to have a monthly booty call at my disposal.”
Warren scowls at Darren. “Absolutely not. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. No exchanging numbers, flirting, or fucking until we get a yes from her on the job. This isn’t a game. The next year is crucial for you guys to end your touring days on a high note. I’m just glad I was able to convince you not to retire completely. Your musical talent would be wasted if you just quit because of a touring issue. There are plenty of bands out there who make music and never tour. Although, I do encourage a long break to rejuvenate yourselves and rebuild your creative energy.”
I’m trying not to take his comment as a personal slam about the slump I’m in. Noah walks in just in time to keep me from saying something I shouldn’t. After taking a seat, he turns his attention to Warren.
“What else is on tap for today, Warren?”
“The book. You guys have to pick a writer to go on tour with you.”
We all groan in unison because none of his picks are great.
“Isn’t there anyone else? These three are kind of …”
“Ridiculous is the word you’re looking for, Wyatt,” I fill in for him, and Warren sighs defeatedly.
“I know they’re not ideal candidates, but they’re talented and capable of doing the job. We’re still putting our feelers out and keeping our eyes open, but time is running out, and we only have a few days to get the contracts signed and get whoever it is vetted.”
This book is turning out to be a huge pain in the ass, and I’m about to voice my frustration and veto the whole damn thing, but Warren doesn’t let me get a word in before he continues.
“We leave for the Greek in an hour. Shit, shower, change, write some music, jack off, whatever you need to do to put on a happy face and a good show tonight, do it. We’ll head back here afterward for dinner, and hopefully, Sawyer will be inspired and write some music tonight. I’ve got some calls to make, but I’ll be in the office if you need me.”
When Warren leaves, I flip through the file he left. “Any of the rest of you want to put a time of death on this book? I’m over it,” I say, sliding the file across the table to Noah.
“I hate to admit it, but I’m with Sawyer,” Wyatt agrees.
Noah opens the file. “Maybe we’ll find someone else. I’m not ready to give up on it just yet. I like the idea a lot.”
“Me too,” Darren agrees with Noah, and we’re at an impasse again. We should have thought about that when we made the band. If we had five members, we wouldn’t be tied so often.
“Fine, we’ll table it for now, but they better come up with something better than this. These people suck. I’m going to go get ready.”
They exchange glances as I stand, and I know they all think I’m an asshole. They’re right, but excuse the fuck out of me for not being happy about this farewell tour. As much as I’m excited about the concept and the new music, I’m still pissed about this being the end.
As the shower warms up, I strip off my clothes and toss a towel on the counter. Once I’m under the spray, I try to allow myself to relax as I soap up. Maybe jacking off will make me feel better. It can’t hurt to try.
With one hand pressed against the wall and the other stroking my soapy cock, I close my eyes and think about the hot blonde from the bar I fucked in the bathroom the other night. About a minute into my fantasy, my thoughts get away from me. Before I know it, I’m thinking about the song I can’t write, the author we can’t find, and how not in the mood I am for a show tonight.
My dick is barely sporting a semi at this point, and that pisses me off even more. I want to come and can’t even get myself off. I finish rinsing and get dressed. I’ve got thirty minutes to kill before we go, which is enough time to catch up with Bethie for a bit.
Explain to me again why you’re not coming tonight?
Bethie: Don’t remind me. I have to work tomorrow, but there’s nothing more I wish I were doing than watching your last big California show.
Fuck, she just nailed it on the head, didn’t she?
I didn’t even think about that until you just said it. This blows.
Bethie: I know it does. I’m happy for Noah and Wyatt, but I’m so sad for you and Darren.
What about you? How do you feel?
Bethie: Honestly? I’m torn. I want to be happy, but it’s hard when I know it’
s making you miserable.
I’ll be okay.
Bethie: I know you will, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. I’m sorry Sawyer, truly. If it’s any consolation, I loved you before you were THE SAWYER WESTON and I’ll love you even when you’re back to being just Sawyer again.
Haha so now you’ve got jokes.
Bethie: Always for you. Promise me something?
Anything for you.
Bethie: Have fun tonight. Enjoy it, Sawyer, seriously. Take it all in and experience it like it’s the first time. More than anything, I want you to leave this last tour with happy memories. Get a jump on it and start tonight.
I’ll do my best.
Bethie: That’s all I ask. Love you.
Love you too.
As Noah knocks on my door, telling me it’s time to go, I try to convince myself to listen to her and have a good time. After all, this is the beginning of the end.
I’m breathless, sweaty, and exhilarated. There’s no better high than being on stage in front of tens of thousands of people. We’re huddled together in the corridor, catching our breath before we go out for our encore. Our PA is babbling about who the fuck knows what, and Darren turns to me with a smirk.
“How many?” I ask, knowing damn well he wants to brag.
“Five bras, at least a dozen pairs of panties, and a paper airplane with a phone number.” He laughs with that last part.
“They’re bold, aren’t they? Just think, that’s what made it to the back of the stage where you are. Imagine all the floaters off to the side and what we ‘accidentally’ kicked back off while performing.”
“This is exactly why we don’t use groupie condoms,” Darren muses.
“Amen to that,” we all counter. Our PA is frustrated at this point. She knows we’re not listening to her.
“Listen, guys, I know you’re pros and shit, but this is what you pay me for. Two-minute countdown, okay? At least nod so I know you’re somewhat listening.”
“We’re listening,” Noah remarks, but his eyes are elsewhere. That catches my attention because it’s dead back here tonight since we only have event staff and ours. When he turns back to the group, I follow his gaze, and my throat suddenly dries up.