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“You wanna guy to inflate your ego? Tell you you’re the best drummer since John Bonham?” He quips, his body crowding mine against the concrete hallway.
“My ego is fine. You should check yours though, isn’t that why you pick up groupies? Girls who look at you like you’re a god, girls who will tell their grandkids they slept with a rockstar. Good for you, Rhyit.” I use my index finger and bop him on the nose. I love pushing him like this, he’s too easy to rattle.
“Pot meet kettle.” He spits. “You want a dude who will treat you like a rock and roll princess and fuck you like a dirty groupie. But you’re too chickenshit to put your heart out there so you settle for guys who fuck you like a princess and look at you like a rock and roll groupie. Take yesterday, you wanted to fuck a rockstar and that’s what you got, but you got scared. You didn’t want me, that’s why you called me Rhyit instead of Andrew. You needed to disassociate the two because you thought you were getting too close. I know you.” He takes another step into my space.
“You don’t know me.” I yell, anger coursing through me. “You know the girl you left behind, the girl you betrayed. I don’t need someone to pick up my pieces, Rhyit, I put myself back together just fucking fine. I’m fine.”
“Is that why we can’t play Pistol because you’re all put back together and just fucking fine?” He yells, matching my tone. I feel my eyes narrow, and a heavy weight sinks in my stomach. Anger is my first reaction, and if we weren’t going on stage in a few minutes, I would slap him so hard his balls would feel it.
“You know why we aren’t playing Pistol.” I say lowly. “You know exactly why we aren’t playing it.” My voice drops another octave, the thinly veiled threat apparent to the two of us. His eyes widen, and he takes a step back, realizing my anger has reached a nuclear level. He levels me with a stare, and I hold his eyes, fire dancing in mine no doubt.
“How many times can I tell you that I’m fucking sorry?” He exhales. “I’m fucking sorry. There’s not a god damn thing I can do about it now, but I’m really fucking sorry.”
“Until you mean it.” I reply, moving away from the wall to walk down the hallway. I watch his head fall, and I wonder if he will even remember having this conversation with me.
The noise from the audience is deafening as we take the stage. It feels weird that it’s just the three of us, like a missing limb. I try to push those feelings away, these people paid good money to see us, and we can’t let them down. I can break down after the show, by myself, on the bus.
“What’s up, LA?” Rhyit yells into the microphone, his guitar slung over his shoulder. He turns, his eyes tracking from Boston to me. I nod, signaling I’m ready, Boston does the same.
“If you don’t know us, we’re The Plight.” He says into the mic again, the crowd reaching new levels of loud. “As most of you know, we lost a good friend of ours last week, Alex buddy, this one’s for you.”
I slam my sticks together over my head, counting us in and we drop right into Riot Act. It’s an upbeat party song, with references to fast girls and alcohol. The boys wrote it years ago, and it was an instant hit.
“Pistol, Pistol, Pistol!” The crowd chants, and I smile wide at them as I attack the drum heads with my sticks.
“You guys excited to see Pistol again?” Rhyit asks in the microphone. “Have you guys been following her on her journey with Petals and Poison?” The crowd screams loudly, and I laugh.
“Who wants to see the girls from Petals and Poison perform with us?” He asks, the crowd loses their mind as Rhyit turns around. A goofy smile plays on his lips as Maggie, Julie, and Blake come out from the side stage. My jaw drops at the sight of them, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed them until their smiling faces greet me. Tears well in my eyes as I continue to lightly beat on the drumheads. One of the event staff hands Julie a mic, and she joins Rhyit front and center.
“Hey Whisky a Go-Go, who’s ready to have some fun?” She yells, her crazy red hair and leather skirt moving to the beat. Blake slides up next to Boston, and he shoots her a wink. She slides her hand across the neck of her bass, and I laugh at her facial expression. It’s a mix of disgust and interest. Maggie stands to my left with her hot pink guitar hanging loosely around her neck. She smiles at me, and I couldn’t tell you the last time I was this happy.
“Hey Rhy?” Julie asks. “What should we sing?” She turns her head to me, giving me a sweet smile. Her voice is like gravel mixed with honey. It sounds like she smokes five packs of cigarettes a day and then mimics Snow White. I love it.
“I don’t know, Jules, should we let them decide?” Rhyit asks, motioning to the crowd. I have no idea if Rhyit knows any of our songs but here’s hoping he does.
The crowd shouts all sorts of names to different songs, but the main one, the one they keep chanting, is one that Julie and I do together. It’s called Bitter Ends. I wrote it in the midst of putting myself back together, and it’s a fan favorite.
“Rhyit, do you know Bitter Ends?” Julie asks, and the crowd goes wild.
“I do, although I don’t sing it as well as you do.” He winks, such a charmer. The crowd ooohs and awwws. I want to roll my eyes at his compliment.
“Pistol, you ready? Blake? Maggie?” We all nod as Maggie gives a quick riff on her guitar. Julie and Rhyit turn back to the audience, and I count us into a song that broke my heart and mended my heart to write.
“I cried for you, and I lied for you. I played the part so well, you had no idea I became a shell. The life we lived was chaos wrapped in a bow, I had no idea you’d sink so low. I hope life brings you what you need, I’m just sorry it wasn’t me.” Maggie belts out, her voice reverberating across the walls. Rhyit holds the mic up to his lips, and I sit forward on the stool, waiting for him to sing the chorus. My chorus.
“The pieces are all back together, I mended all the damage you put me through. I keep my heart under lock and key now because baby, can’t you see, this is where the bitter ends… and I finally get to be me.” He sings the lyrics with so much passion that I have to bite my lip to stop the tears. He’s singing my song, my heartbreak anthem. I drop my head and pound the sticks against my kit, my arms moving so quickly I start to feel sweat at the back of my neck.
“What hurts the most is pretending that I had stopped hurting long before I was ever healed, breaking my own heart everyday just to make sure I could feel.” He continues singing, but he’s not singing to the crowd, he’s singing to me. My heart hammers against my chest as the crowd cheers uproariously at his back as he stands in front of me.
“I know I’ve said I’m sorry, I know you don’t think it’s true, I never meant to hurt you, and I’m going to prove it too.” He sings with a smile, those aren’t the words, not even close, but the girls around me are basically puddles from his serenade, and I nod slightly. I look to Julie who looks like she might cry, and she has been the most solid team member of the ‘we hate Rhyit’ brigade.
“Baby can’t you see, this is where the bitter ends…and I get to be me again.” Julie sings into the microphone, her voice a little choked up.
I cannot believe he did this, can’t believe he brought my band to sing with us tonight. He has no idea how much it means to me to be sharing the stage with all the people I love the most. I look around me as I lightly move my drum sticks across the cymbals. Blake and Boston are in an epic bass playoff, both of them trying to outdo the other, Maggie stands off to my side playing lightly like me while Rhyit and Julie sing with the crowd. The only person missing is Alex, he would have loved this.
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Julie’s arms wrap around my waist as we stand in front of the bus. Maggie and Blake stand at our sides waiting for us to distance, but she just keeps holding on to me.
