TIME

by Penny Reid

  Examining my friend, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. “What am I doing to you?”

  “You’re raining on our parade.” Charlie said this like it was obvious.

  “How so?” I rubbed my face, scratching my beard.

  “Listen, fine, be in a relationship. Okay. But people want to meet you. They come here for you. Your lyrics. Your music—”

  “Kaitlyn’s music.”

  “—and night after night, you’re in your dressing room, hiding from everyone, waiting for a phone call. You’ve wasted the first two months of the North American tour. If your girl cared about you, she’d want you to have a good time. It’s sad, man.”

  “It is kind of sad.” Ruthie pressed her lips together, looking me over. “We’re only young once. We only get this experience—of our first tour—once. You’re missing out.”

  “See?” Charlie, again, made a big show of lifting his hand toward our guitarist.

  “I don’t feel like I’m missing out,” I mumbled to no one, and it was only half true. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on the drugs, and the sex with strangers, and the hangover sex with strangers. But I did feel like I was missing out on Mona by being here. If there were some way to do the practices and the shows without the rest of it.

  Checking the time on my phone, I frowned. My stomach dropped. She never texted this late. She probably can’t make the call before her flight.

  “But I also think it’s kind of sweet.”

  Ruthie’s declaration had me glancing at her. “Sweet, huh?”

  She gave me a small smile. “You look like a fucking porn star pirate fantasy, but you’re a sweet guy, Abram.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Thanks?”

  “It’s a compliment. You should be flattered.” Ruthie kicked my leg lightly with her boot. “Also, Charlie is right. You need to get laid.”

  Glaring at Ruthie, because she was right, I said nothing. But it wasn’t just that I needed to get laid. I needed Mona.

  Long-distance relationships totally sucked. Fantasies, jerking off, cold showers, vivid dreams, her pictures, more fantasies. I’d filled ten notebooks since Aspen. I had songs for decades. I’d sent a select few of the more complete poems to Kaitlyn and she’d been hugely inspired. She’d composed ten solid arrangements for the next album, we only needed four more, five tops.

  Then what? Another album. Another tour? No.

  No more tours.

  A firm knock drew our attention to the door and had me gritting my teeth. Other than Charlie and Ruthie, who were always welcome, Stan and the crew knew not to knock. Not to enter. Not to seek me out or introduce me to some fucking VIP.

  “Who is it?” Ruthie asked, glancing between us.

  Our drummer shrugged, looking a tad defensive. “Don’t look at me. I have no idea.”

  “Ohhhh.” Ruthie made a wincing face, her wide eyes on me. “Someone is going to get fired, then.”

  Standing, I strolled to the door, fighting a spike in temper. Stan knew better. Taking a quick, deep breath before opening it, I reminded myself to stay calm. My fuse was too short these days. Everything and everyone pissed me off.

  But then, upon finding Leo, his hands shoved in his pockets, a big smile on his face, my anger reluctantly diminished until I was more curious than irritated. I glanced between Stan, still at his post by the door, and Mona’s brother. The security guard’s face seemed carefully impassive, like both Leo and I bored him. Hmm.

  “Leo,” I said, not masking my confusion.

  “Hey,” Leo shouted over the noise, his grin widening. He looked like he was up to something. “Just in the neighborhood. Mind if I come in?”

  I ignored the screams and voices calling my name from somewhere to my right, stepping to the side. “Please. Come in.”

  “Leo! Good to see you.”

  “It’s Leo!”

  Charlie was already on his feet, but Ruthie blocked the way, insisting on a hug. Giving stoic Stan one more searching look, I closed the door, reclaimed my spot on the couch, and picked up my guitar. Checking my phone again while my three friends exchanged greetings and banalities, I frowned at the screen. No messages.

  “I’m so relieved to see you, man. If it had been anyone else, I think Abram might’ve lost his shit.” Charlie chuckled, steering Leo to the chair where he’d been sitting earlier.

  “Really?” Leo glanced at me. “What’s going on, Abram? Isn’t the tour going well? From everything I’ve seen—other than the rescheduled LA show—the reviews are awesome.”

  “Tour is fine.” I strummed a series of chords, the beginning of a new song Kaitlyn had sent through. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Miami.”

  “Uh.” Leo’s eyebrows jumped, and he glanced at my bandmates. “Hey, you two, do you mind giving us a minute? I have some, uh, business to discuss. Label stuff.”

  “Oh, sure. Yeah.” Ruthie looked confused and I understood why.

  The excuse of label stuff made no sense. Leo may have introduced us to our EP and label, but he didn’t work for them.

  “That’s Leo’s polite code for leave us the fuck alone.” Charlie backed away toward the door, opened it, and the building roar of backstage paired with the music of our opening act blared through. He motioned Ruthie forward. “Totally cool. We can catch up later.”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Leo pointed at Ruthie, then at Charlie. “See you after the concert. We’ll hang out.”

  As soon as Charlie shut the door, the noise level returned to a faint hum, and Leo turned back to me, his smile falling away.

  We stared at each other for a minute, but I didn’t get the sense he was upset, nor did he seem contrite, like he was here to apologize for anything. The last time I saw him had been in Aspen, and the last time we’d talked had been when I’d called to get Mona’s number. I was aware that he’d come to the hospital in LA, but he didn’t stay to visit. I’d been too sick and he needed to get back to Miami. Mona had seen him, though, but she never told me what they’d discussed.

  “How you doing, Abram?” He sounded honestly curious. “You look like you’re recovered.”

  “Why are you here, Leo?” Yeah. I was definitely in a mood.

  My dissatisfaction and frustration with life on tour was bleeding into every facet of my personality. Charlie was right. Ruthie was right. I needed to lighten up.

  “The truth?” He shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I promised Mona I would come.”

  I stopped strumming my guitar. “What?”

  “She’s worried about you.”

  I set the guitar aside, sitting forward. “What? She is? She said that?”

  “I was supposed to go to the Cincinnati concert, but couldn’t make it. So, I’m here instead.” His stare turned scrutinizing. “She wanted to make sure you were happy, doing well, getting enough sleep. She said you’ve been kind of distant the last few weeks.”

  I pushed my fingers through my hair, and then brought them back to rub my forehead, eyes, and beard. “Shit.”

  “Don’t be mad at Mona. It took me two hours of careful questioning to get it out of her, why she was so keyed up when we spoke.” Leo huffed a little laugh. “It was kind of cute though. For the first time ever, she was asking me hypothetical questions about the opposite sex instead of the other way around.”

  “I’m not mad at Mona. Not at all. It’s just—” I bit back a curse and said the words out loud before I could catch them. “I miss her.” Glancing up, I locked eyes with my friend. “I miss her, man. It’s like, I can’t breathe. I’m drowning, suffocating in how much I miss her. I just need—”

  Leo lifted an eyebrow when I didn’t continue. “What do you need?”

  I didn’t know where to start. I needed to talk to her for hours, submerge myself in her brilliance and presence, debate and discuss, tease and laugh. I needed to not talk to her, sit with her, be quiet, together.

  And yes, should things progress in that way a
nd she was up for it, I needed to fuck her brains out.

  I needed to taste every inch of her body, I needed her under me, above me, next to me. Reclined, kneeling, bending, on all fours. I needed her skin and sounds and lips and legs and neck and breasts and everything.

  But I wasn’t going to say that to her brother. She was right. I had been distant.

  “I need everything,” I finally said, and then laughed at myself.

  “Oh? Is that all?” Leo also laughed, shaking his head. But his laughter quickly tapered. “You seem unhappy. And that’s a shame. I mean, this is your dream, right? Playing your own songs, music, live, for tens of thousands of people. They adore you, man. They can’t get enough. I think I can speak for Mona when I say she’d want you to enjoy it, not sit around and be miserable, missing her.”

  “It’s honestly not even about missing Mona, not really.”

  Leo sighed. “Then what’s it about?”

  “What am I doing? What is this life? I want this?” I continued shaking my head. “I don’t. I thought I did, but I don’t. You’re right, playing my songs is my dream. But the adoration, the chanting of my name, the echo in my ears, in my heart, it’s a high and I hate it. It’s like living inside a theme park for months.”

  I closed my eyes, leaning back against the couch. “At the end of the night, there is only me and an empty hotel room. Another city. Another audience. Another set. It’s always the same. Even if Mona and I weren’t together, even if she wasn’t mine to miss, that wouldn’t change.”

  “But if you were with someone else, someone who could tour with you and didn’t have so many responsibilities, someone who made you their main priority, then that would change.”

  I opened my eyes, glaring at my friend. He seemed to be glaring at me as well, not with hostility, but with suspicion.

  My friend. That didn’t sound right.

  My former friend? Possibly.

  It took me a moment, and I had to swallow a few times, but eventually I was able to ask without shouting, “What the fuck does that mean? Hmm? Why would you even say that?”

  A hint of a smile, there and gone, tugged his mouth to one side. “I’m just saying—”

  “Fuck you. I love God and Mona and my family and music and words and that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” Now he was smiling. A stupid grin on his stupid face.

  “Yeah. That’s it.” I’d had enough, and distrust lanced me, sharp and strong. I stood. “Wait. Why are you really here? What do you want?”

  Leo also stood, still grinning, looking like he was trying to hold in laughter. “I told you already, because Mona—”

  “Cut the shit, Leo. Did Mona also tell you to encourage me to replace her with a warm body? She’s not replaceable, dipshit.”

  “Listen, calm down. Okay? Calm down.” Now Leo did laugh, and now he was shaking his head. “Mona did ask me to come and check on you, and she is worried about you being unhappy when you should be having a great time. That was true. But the other stuff, that was me. That was big brother stuff, okay?”

  I lifted my chin, inspecting him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means Mona is crazy about you, okay? She’s—” Leo’s eyes drifted to the wall behind me, like he was searching it for the right word “—completely crazy about you. Obviously, my sister fell for you in Aspen, and she fell hard, and I don’t want to see you mess her up. I needed to, you know, make sure your intentions were honorable before I could give this thing my blessing.”

  Placing my hands on my hips, I narrowed my eyes on Mona’s brother, not hiding my irritation. “Your blessing? Why would I need or want your blessing?”

  Leo’s demeanor instantly changed. He straightened to his full height, his eyes growing cold and hot at the same time, a subtle sneering curl to his upper lip. I knew that face. That was the face Leo made when he was about to threaten someone.

  “You better believe you need my blessing, because Mona is my family. My. Family. Mine.” His voice was a rumble, and it raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I’d seen him angry, but I’d only seen him this angry once before, when another of our friends insulted Lisa in an extremely—uh—unsavory way. “And no one fucks with her, got it? No one. I will ruin you if you break her heart. You know I can, so don’t doubt that I will.”

  Staring at my friend, I found myself fighting a smile. “Yeah. Okay. I see your point. Good talk.” I was still irritated with him about how he’d treated Mona, but it was clear he was making an effort now to be a good brother.

  Leo continued scowling at me, his aggression fading slowly, but doubt remained. “We clear?”

  I smiled. “Mostly.” Before he could get too upset, I added, “I believe you can ruin my music career, I believe that. But the truth is Leo, the only way you could ruin me is if you somehow convinced Mona to leave me.”

  The frost left his stare, and the heat diminished to warm affection.

  “So, no.” I turned, reached for my phone, and glanced at the screen. No messages. I tucked it in my back pocket. “I don’t believe you can ruin me.”

  My friend’s mouth curved into a pleased smile and he nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

  I missed having him as a friend. Leo was a good guy. Clueless sometimes, but someone who was truly trying his best. “You have anything else you want to add? Anything you want to apologize for? Now that you’re here, sharing feelings.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “Nah, man. I did what I did. I was wrong, yeah, but not about you. I was wrong about Mona, and I’ve already apologized to her.”

  “You apologized?” That surprised me.

  Mona and I still hadn’t talked about her family, though she always wanted to hear about mine. I had a suspicion Mona talked to my mom and sister more than she talked to me.

  “I did. She deserved more and better than I was giving her.”

  “Huh.” Inspecting Leo, I absorbed this information. When Mona and I were in London, face-to-face, I would make a point to ask her about her family, get her talking about her upbringing. I wanted to understand her, know her. Maybe I needed to do a better job of showing Mona the depths of my interest. “What changed your mind?”

  “About Mona? Or about me being a shitty brother?”

  “I guess both.”

  Leo stared at me, like he was searching for something behind my expression. Eventually, frowning, he said, “You’ll have to ask her. It’s not my—uh—story to tell.”

  “Okay. Fair enough.”

  “So, we good?” Leo extended his hand. “No more psycho phone calls?”

  I snorted a laugh and rolled my eyes. “You know I can’t promise that. You’re the first number I call when I drunk dial. But I’ll try to keep them to a minimum.”

  I accepted his handshake just as the door opened and we both turned toward the intrusion of noise. It was Charlie and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a bundle of nerves and energy, as per usual right before a concert.

  “If you two are finished holding hands, we need Abram. Showtime.”

  “Right.” Leo released my hand, giving me that grin again. “Well, see you after the show.”

  I shook my head. “I’m leaving right after the last song. I’ve got to catch a plane to London. But Charlie and Ruthie will be here.”

  Leo continued smiling but said nothing. He left with Charlie, but neither closed the door. No need. It was time for me to go to work.

  And then London, Mona, three days.

  I was just pushing my way through the backstage crowd, trying to find Melena to hand over my cell phone—she was the only one I trusted with it—and grab my mug of pre-show tea, when I felt my cell go off in my back pocket. I waited until I made it past the security rope where no fans were allowed before retrieving my phone and checking the screen.

  My pulse stuttered. It was a message from Mona followed quickly by a candid shot.

  I glanced at the photo first, but it confused me
. She was standing in what looked like a darkened stadium, lights and stage behind her. She wore a dark dress, maybe blue, hair down, heavy—for her—makeup, and a giant smile. On one side was Allyn making a funny face and on the other side was Marie, grinning like she’d just done something brilliant.

  Then I read the message and experienced a shock, current racing up my spine, wrapping around my heart, an electric tremor. I read it once, and then had to read it again and again to comprehend its meaning. Even then, even as I smiled widely, and my heart beat wildly, I read it again.

  Mona: SURPRISE! I’M HERE!!! I’m sitting in the center section with your sister and can’t wait for the show to start! LOVE YOU!

  12

  The Lorentz Transformations

  *Abram*

  “No,” I called over my shoulder, shaking my elbow out of Charlie’s grasping grip, knowing he couldn’t hear me. But he’d get the picture. “No more encores. We’re done.” I handed my bass off to Geoff, one of our roadies, and darted around a group of smiling techs for the security rope at the side of the stage.

  Melena said she’d be here. She’d promised to meet me right here, after the concert was over.

  “Abram! Hey, man!” Charlie was suddenly at my shoulder, holding my bass and yelling in my ear over the persistent chanting of the crowd. “They’re not stopping. They’re nowhere near stopping. We got to give them at least one more.”

  I shook my head as I glanced around, searching for Melena and mouthing an emphatic no. I pointed to my throat. We’d already played nine encores. Nine. The most we’d ever done. My voice was raw, on fire. I would be paying for these extra songs for days.

  “Come on.” He held my guitar out, his eyes pleading and wild, like a druggy looking for another hit. “Come on. One more. This is Chicago. Our hometown. They love you. You owe them one more song.”

  Gritting my teeth, I glared at my drummer, but said nothing. I’d already given my answer. The pleading eventually morphed into frustration, and then rage. Charlie’s jaw ticked in time with the chant, Redburn, Redburn, Redburn.