Where We Belong

Nerves and Regrets

My mind is on anything but the dizzying traffic ahead of me as I make my way downtown. By schedule I was supposed to be there in ten minutes and even if the traffic vanished before me like magic I'd still have an hour and fifteen minutes worth of a drive. Fuck.

I will have a lack of warmup time and rehearsal with men I'd hardly played with before. Great. I knew Jon would act like it was fine but really I was throwing everyone off and potentially draining the quality of play. Ryan sucks once again.

It was going to be bizarre playing with Jon again. My pounding head seemed to jerk my car from side to side, demanding attention over the road and my current awkward situation with Jon.

I should pull over, my first rational thought in the past twelve hours. I'm already late. But I didn't have the heart to put my personal needs first again as I had the past twelve hours, and I drove on.

It was a fucking miracle I didn't kill myself on the way there. Part of me was hoping so, I could not prepare myself to see the dissapointment in Jon's face. It wouldn't be the first time.

Time never works with your desired perception. Often times my schedule gets along with the stoplights but this time the red flashed deviously for what couldn't possibly have been thirty seconds. I flipped off even the soccer moms who cut me off as I made my way, speeding, to the venue.

My headache started to dissolve as I pulled up into the parking lot. My stomach, tangled with nerves and regrets, certainly made up for it.

I loaded both my second pick electric and accoustic guitar and did vocal warmups on my way to where Jon had emailed me to arrive. Inside the venue it smelled like sweat, eua de teen spirit. The place was far from the nicest venue I have played but certainly far from the smallest. I turn a sharp corner and nearly collide with an attractive bearded brunette.

"Jon... I am so fucking sorry man I.." my voice trailed off thick with regrets and kisses from Mary Jane. Shit, I forgot last night I was also high.

He pressed his lips together in a half smile. "Its okay Ryan." His face seemed stressed but his eyes were perfectly normal. Had he expected me to be so late!? I try not to feel annoyance prickling my ego because if he had, he had been right.

"It's really not.. I was so careless and threw everyone off.."

"No problem Ryan. You have front row seats for tonight." Jon patted my back and began to walk off.

What the fuck? "Jon, wait! I didn't drive three hours with a pounding headache to get front row tickets to watch people I personally know. I am one of the main acts!"

Jon looked down and stopped. "Ryan, we just finalized the lineup. You were so late signing in we had to assume you weren't coming. I'm really sorry man, I could not help with anything." Jon looked truly sorry but I was angry and my fatigue wasn't exactly calming the flames.

''Well then who the fuck is taking my place?"

"Hey Jon, found the amps I need!"

Just then a tall man came from where the voice had sounded from around the corner, legs longer than even mine. His hair was slicked and he walked lazily yet confidently, as though positive everyone would wait for him no matter how far behind he got.

He held up a hand with a sloppy half grin.

"You must be Ryan Ross. Call me Dan."