And So We Fall

Veils

*Ryan's POV*

Janis and I stand on the cabin porch, watching Danny pack up his things into his car. It's a bit warmer today so the snow has started to melt. Janis and I are driving back home, too, as tonight is New Year's Eve.

New year, same old fucking thing.

Danny slams the trunk to his rather expensive-looking car. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks up to us. I've never been good at goodbyes, so I shake his hand and say, "See you later, Danny."

Danny laughs and pulls me into a tight hug. "I'll miss you, too, Ry Guy." He pulls back and ruffles my hair. "Do good out there."

He shifts over to Janis, who throws herself on him, a blubbering mess of tears. Danny holds her tighter and chuckles. "No need to cry, baby. I'll see you on tour."

"Not for another six months you won't," she mumbles into his neck.

At some point over the week, Janis had decided that she wants Danny to be her road manager. I tried to talk her out of it because Danny isn't exactly the most responsible candidate. But she had her heart set on it and nothing was going to change her mind.

Danny plants a soft kiss on Janis's forehead, which momentarily makes her calm down. He gives her this huge genuine grin that only certain people get to see.

"Don't let those big music industry bullies get to you. And try not to get yourself into more trouble," he tells her.

"No promises." Janis smirks.

Danny rolls his eyes but still smiles. He looks over to me.

"That goes for you, too."

"Okay, Mom," I respond sarcastically.

He shakes his head. "You two are hopeless." He laughs. "I better be going. My flight leaves at noon. I'll miss you both."

"Miss you, too." Janis and I say in unison, though Janis with more tears. Danny trudges through the slush back to his car, giving us a wave before getting in and closing the door.

Janis looks like she's about to cry again, so I pull her towards me and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on top of her head.

"You are such a wimp," I tell her.

"Fuck you, Ross," she says, though I can hear the smile in her voice.

***

We pull up to my L.A. apartment sometime in the afternoon. Janis tells me to give her a call if I ever need someone to toilet paper houses with. I chuckle and nod.

I haul my bag through the doors of the building. The young doorman sees me and rushes up to meet me. He can't be any older than eighteen. He clears his throat and says with a slight bow, "I'll take that for you, sir."

I give it to him without thinking. It's become almost a reflex, having people do things for me. I don't hate it, but I don't exactly enjoy it. It's just been one of those things that come with being a multi-millionaire director.

The doorman follows me up to my room and places my bag on the kitchen counter. He turns to leave, but I remember something.

"Wait!" I tell him. I fish through my pocket and pull out a hundred dollar bill and hand it to him. His eyes widen to the size of golf balls as he takes the money hesitantly.

"Holy shit," he whispers, then seems to remember who he's talking to. He looks back up at me and clears his throat. "I mean, thank you, Mr. Ross."