The Wreckage of Us

by Cherry, Brittainy

  “We’re fucking kidnapping you, dude,” Marcus exclaimed, without a second of guilt in his tone.

  “What?”

  He didn’t explain any more. He nodded toward me. “Come on, guys. Grab him.”

  The bandmates did as Marcus said, and before I could yell, Eric pulled out a roll of duct tape and slapped a piece against my mouth. “Sorry, Ian. But this is for your own good.”

  What in the hell? Where the hell was security? Didn’t they see me on camera being dragged out of my hotel room by three men in black? This had to look suspicious as fuck.

  When we got outside, going through the back entrance of the hotel, there was a black van parked near us. They hurried me over, tossed me inside, and scrambled in themselves.

  Marcus hopped behind the steering wheel and began driving off.

  I ripped the tape off my mouth and hollered, “What the fuck is wrong with you psychopaths?”

  “Sorry, man,” James said as he calmly put on his seat belt. “We just didn’t think you’d come easily of your own accord. But to be completely clear, the ninja kidnapping was Marcus’s idea.”

  “And a damn good idea, if you ask me! I always wanted to do, like, an underground kidnapping. For fun, obviously—I’m not a damn crazed human. And it was going great until Bozo the Clown over here yelled.”

  “He fucking bit me!” Eric exclaimed once more. “I think I’m bleeding. He hit a vein.”

  “Don’t be a fucking baby, or I’ll tell Mom to start changing your diapers again.”

  “Fuck you, Marcus!”

  “Fuck you too, little brother.”

  “Fuck you both!” I added in, still feeling dazed, confused, and drunk as fuck. “What the hell is going on?”

  James leaned over my waist and buckled my seat belt like the damn caring guy he had always been. I would’ve thanked him, too, if he hadn’t just kidnapped me.

  “Listen, Ian. I’ve been up all night doing some deep computer-nerd digging,” Eric explained. “I didn’t feel settled enough knowing that our album was leaked somehow but the record company hadn’t a clue how it happened. So I did some work. And you won’t believe what I found. It was—”

  “Max Fucking Rider!” Marcus blurted out as he drove down the road.

  “Dude, what the hell?” Eric snapped, smacking his brother in the arm. “That was my massive reveal.”

  “Will you get over yourself and continue the story?” Marcus ordered.

  Eric sighed at his brother and raked his hands through his hair. “It was Max Fucking Rider. I tracked the hack back to a server that led us straight to his laptop. Then, for extra confirmation—because if you’re going to geek out, you’re going to geek out all the way—I hacked his emails and his social media and his everything. He had emails back and forth with Donnie from weeks ago. They went on and on about how the music we created wasn’t mainstream enough and they needed to make a big shift before the release.”

  What?

  “They set us up, dude!” Marcus said. “They fucked us in the asshole and then sat in front of us and called us divas for being pissed about it.”

  “Holy shit,” I muttered, sitting back in my seat, finally letting the shock of being kidnapped disappear as the shock of being fucked up the ass began to hit me. “Why would they do that?”

  “Money, probably. Everything’s about money to these people,” James said. “And can you imagine the buzz we’re getting with our tracks being released? Now, people are watching us more closely than ever to see what we do next.”

  It made sense.

  It was messed up, but it made sense from their evil standpoint.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that we are still screwed by the contract we signed. We’re still screwed,” I explained.

  “Maybe, but we aren’t going to be screwed in Los Angeles. Especially with you in the headspace that you are,” James said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Where the hell are we going?”

  “Look, Ian. We know these past few months have been hard on you. From your parents, to Hazel, and now to the record being fucked over. But we, as your best friends, cannot allow you to lose your light. You can’t give up on everything.”

  “I didn’t give up on everything.” Everything had given up on me.

  Fuck. Did I even hear myself? How much more emo could my ass be?

  “No offense, dude, but you’re drunk all the time,” Marcus said, his voice low and filled with care. “And I don’t fault you for it, because I’d be the same way if I went through half the shit you went through. That’s why we allowed it for so long. What happened to you was fucked up, man. You were dealt a shitty hand, and you were playing it the best you could, but it’s time to realize that you don’t have to play alone. We’re your best buds. So we kidnapped you to give you the detox your body and soul need.”

  “Detox? And where the hell is this detox taking place?” I barked, still annoyed as fuck about being kidnapped from my drunken daze and dropped in a damn hallway.

  “Eres,” Eric said, glancing back at me from the passenger seat. “So sit back, relax, and enjoy the twenty-hour drive. We’re taking you home, Ian.”

  38

  IAN

  The guys forced me to drive with them for the whole twenty hours. Whenever we stopped, I couldn’t even figure out a way to get away and back to Los Angeles. They hadn’t brought my phone or my wallet. I had no way of escaping my friends kidnapping me.

  What an odd situation.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what Eric had uncovered about Max Fucking Rider and Donnie Fucking Schmitz. I wished I could’ve said I was surprised, but it turned out dreams didn’t come without their own set of troubles. Max had had red flags from the beginning, but we’d chosen to ignore them, because we wanted our dream so fucking bad it ached.

  Now, we were left in a shitty situation because we’d trusted the wrong people. We’d trusted the people who didn’t give a damn about us as individuals. They only cared about the money being brought into their bank accounts.

  The moment we pulled up to the old dirt roads of Eres, I felt a lump in my throat. The guys drove me to my house—correction: now Hazel’s house—and before I could argue with them, they tossed me out of the car and drove away.

  It was the middle of the night, and I had no desire to walk inside to see Hazel.

  Okay, that was a lie. I had every desire to do exactly that, but I didn’t. Instead, I grumbled like a damn child and stomped off to the shed.

  I’d sleep there until morning, when I’d go to my grandparents’ house and beg Big Paw for a bed to sleep in for a few hours before I figured out how to get myself back to Los Angeles and face reality.

  I grumbled, tossing and turning in my sleep. I was having that dream again. I was falling deeper and deeper into the bottomless pit of darkness, shouting for someone to give me a hand. Begging for help. My parents reached down, and right before I was about to grab ahold of them, they snatched their hands back, and they began laughing hysterically as they stared my way. Then everyone else began laughing too. Big Paw, Grams, the guys. Everyone began pointing at me, laughing their heads off, as I kept falling deeper and deeper.

  Everyone except Hazel.

  She locked eyes with me and moved her mouth to speak. I couldn’t hear her, though.

  “What?” I called out.

  She kept moving her lips.

  “What?” I shouted.

  “Wake,” she whispered.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Up,” she said. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

  I shot up from my nightmare, drenched in sweat and panic. My eyes bugged out as I looked around, trying to piece together my whereabouts, and when I looked to my left, I froze.

  Those green eyes were piercing me.

  Those eyes that I’d missed.

  Those eyes that I still stupidly loved.

  Those fucking green eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, feeling
flustered and completely thrown off. I felt as if half of me was still in the dream state as the other half was awake and wanting to wrap my arms around Hazel and fucking beg her to love me again.

  I didn’t do that.

  I sat still as a brick wall.

  “I heard shouting in here and came to check it out.” She tilted her head, seemingly confused. “What are you doing back in town, Ian?”

  My hand brushed against my temple, and I groaned. “Been asking myself the same damn thing. Don’t worry; I’ll get out of your hair.”

  I got to my feet, and she shifted in her shoes.

  Those black Adidas.

  God, I hated that she still wore those black Adidas, and by hated I meant loved, and holy shit, I’d missed her.

  “Wait, no. You’re not in my hair. You’re . . . I’m just . . . you being here . . .” Her words stumbled and fumbled against her tongue. “How are you?” she asked.

  After all these months of silence, that was all she had to say to me? All she could muster up was How are you?

  Not good enough for me.

  I turned and walked out of the shed as the morning sun beamed down on me.

  I wasn’t in the mood for the walk to Big Paw’s house, but I knew that was the only place I could go.

  I brushed my hand against my forehead and turned to Hazel. “Can I use your cell phone?”

  She hesitated as if I’d said the most obscure thing in the whole world. “I, uh, you, um—”

  “Words, Hazel,” I griped. “Use words.”

  “You can’t use my phone.”

  “And why not?”

  “I was instructed to not let you use it.”

  I lifted a brow. “By who?”

  “By your friends.”

  Fine.

  I’d use the phone in the offices.

  I started walking off, annoyed as ever, and I heard Hazel call after me. “Wait! Ian. You’re wasting your time if you’re heading to the offices. The phones have been disconnected there.”

  What in the hell?

  “And why’s that?”

  “So you can’t call out to get away from here.”

  “Why would I want to stay on this damn ranch, huh? Why in the fuck would I want to be here?” I was coming off sounding like a big dick, but I couldn’t help it, because even though I’d tried to shut off my heart again, it kept fucking beating and breaking every day since my parents and Hazel had stomped it into the ground, and it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad standing there in front of her. It hurt so fucking bad being in the same space as her. It hurt so fucking bad that I wanted to rip my heart out of my damn chest in order to stop feeling.

  I wished I’d never started feeling again at all.

  “Because this is your home,” she said, her words throwing me for a loop. Did she mean she was my home or the ranch was my home?

  Didn’t matter.

  I was still leaving.

  “I’ll just go to Big Paw’s and call,” I muttered as I began walking again.

  “That won’t help you, seeing as how Big Paw and Holly are waiting inside the house over here, along with the band.”

  “Why are they there?”

  “They want to talk to you. They want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Like an intervention? Not interested.”

  “Ian, you’re not okay . . .”

  “I’m fine!” I snapped at her.

  “You’re not,” she replied, calmly as ever.

  “And what exactly do you know about me, Hazel Stone?”

  “Everything,” she said so matter-of-factly it made me want to crawl into a ball and cry like a little bitch. She gave me a half smile and shrugged her shoulders. “I know everything, Ian. You’re my best friend.”

  “Then why did you leave me?” I asked, sounding desperate. A flash of sadness washed over Hazel’s face. I shook my head and turned in the direction of the house. “Don’t answer that.”

  I didn’t need her answer, because it didn’t matter why she’d left me. It only mattered that she’d left—easy as that.

  I should’ve learned a long time ago that when people left you behind, it was best that you never asked why. You’d always be disappointed with their reasoning.

  The moment I stepped foot into the ranch house, I felt my nerves start to skyrocket. Everyone was sitting in the living room with doomed expressions on their faces, as if they’d lost their best friend, and I couldn’t help but feel ridiculous about their dramatic looks.

  “What is this?” I demanded. “Why are you guys holding me hostage here?”

  “Don’t come in here with that damn tone, boy. You don’t get to be nasty toward people because they care about your well-being,” Big Paw snapped. “Now bring your butt over here and sit down.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but I knew that wouldn’t lead to any place good.

  I sat down in the armchair, not happy about it at all. “So. What do you want?”

  “We want you to stop acting like a damn stubborn child,” Big Paw hollered.

  “Harry, be easy,” Grams said, placing her hand on his knee.

  “No. Easy doesn’t work with this blockhead. We need to break through to him. Ian, your bandmates have told me you’ve been drinking each night. Is that true?”

  Snitches.

  “I’ve had a few drinks,” I murmured, readjusting myself in the chair.

  “He’s been wasted every night for more than a month,” Marcus added.

  What a fucking asshole. “I’ve done my job,” I said. “I’ve showed up and never missed a show, so what does it matter if I have a drink or two—”

  “Or five,” Eric quipped, making the anger grow inside of me.

  Who did these people think they were, talking about me like that? I was supposed to be their friend, and this was how they showed their love?

  Fuck love and all its twisted fairy tales.

  “This isn’t you, Ian,” Grams said in her gentle tones. I’d missed her. I’d slipped up on calling her to check in every week, and seeing her brought that guilt back to me instantly. I hadn’t been a good grandson lately, and I wasn’t that shocked.

  I hadn’t been a good person as of late.

  “People change, Grams. Maybe this is who I am now.”

  “No.” Big Paw shook his head. “This isn’t you, dammit. You aren’t some drunk.”

  I shrugged. “My parents weren’t always meth heads, but they changed too. Maybe I just take after my parents a little more than usual.”

  “Shut it, you damn idiot!” Big Paw shouted, shooting up from his chair. He paced back and forth, slapping his hands together in anger—or maybe disappointment? Maybe sadness?

  When he looked up at me with tears flooding his eyes, my messed-up heart cracked even more. I’d never seen Big Paw cry in all my life, and watching him stand there before me with tears rolling down his cheeks made me want to kick my own ass for being difficult.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You don’t know what it feels like knowing you’re losing everything around you. You don’t know what we’ve been going through back here, Ian, and you have the nerve to throw away your life like it doesn’t matter. You’re selfish—just like your parents. You’re goddamn selfish, and you can’t pull your head out of your own ass to see how much your actions are hurting others.”

  Grams stood up and walked over to Big Paw. “Harry, calm down . . .”

  “No. I’m done. If he wants to be a drunk, then by all means. Die the same miserable way that my father did. But don’t do it here. If you want to ruin yourself, go back to LA, and do it surrounded by people who don’t give a damn about you. I refuse to watch another person I love lose themselves. It was too hard the first time, and I’m tired.” He brushed his tears away and stormed out of the house. Grams chased after him, leaving me with the guys, who all looked guilty as ever.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face and released a weighted sigh.

 
James grimaced. “I’d never seen Big Paw cry,” he muttered.

  “Me either,” I replied.

  Marcus raked his hands through his hair. “Look, Ian. We weren’t trying to gang up on you bringing you back to Eres. I know you have a lot of shit going on, and I thought being back where we’d fallen in love with music would help. Getting back to our roots. But if you want to go back to LA and record those tracks from Warren Lee, then we’ll do that. Because when we said ‘until forever,’ we didn’t mean until things got messy. We fucking meant until forever. Always. We got your back regardless.”

  I couldn’t believe the jerk I’d been lately. I couldn’t believe the way I’d lost myself on the road to success or how I’d let my heartache swallow me whole. I didn’t want to be like this. I didn’t want to be so damn broken, but I couldn’t help it. I was drowning, and my family and friends were trying their hardest to pull me up for air.

  Unlike in my dream, they were reaching out. I was simply being too stubborn to give them my hand.

  “I’m sorry, you guys, for . . . everything. I’m not doing too great after everything that went down. I’m going to do better and work on getting back on track. I know we have to decide what to do for the music, and you need answers from me on what we should do sooner than later.”

  “Take the next day to regroup and focus on yourself, man. Minus the booze, of course,” Eric said. “Then we’ll come back together and take a group vote on it all.”

  “Although we’d already have our votes, so realistically, whatever you decide will be vetoed,” Marcus joked. “Really, though, take your time, Ian. We’ll be around seeing our families and stuff. Just give us a call.”

  The guys headed out, and I sighed as I rolled my hands over my face. I felt exhausted in all ways—physically, mentally, and emotionally burned out.

  When a knock landed on the door, I got up and headed over to find Hazel standing there.

  “Why are you knocking on your own door?” I asked.

  “It was your door before it was mine.”

  I didn’t know what to say to her next, even though there were a million things that I felt needed to be said.

  I scratched at the back of my neck. “Don’t worry; I’ll stay in the shed again tonight. You don’t have to worry about me getting in your way.”