Only Summer Loves October - Ryden

Chapter Two - Thunderstorms & Desperation

It's impossible to tell the difference between dreaming and reality when I'm this exhausted. Not physically - me and exercise don't mix well, but mentally and I feel like that's the worst kind. Paralyzed, naked and now cold on top of the covers as I stare at the stars through the window on the ceiling while the hours pass by, questioning everything we've put into this band. All of a sudden my thoughts divert to the waiter/escapee at Nico's, I can't understand why. Something so meaningless wouldn't usually stick with me, but there was something so strange about it. Why did he run away?  I was stood there for what, 2 minutes maximum - I had enough time to acknowledge the sickeningly happy family in front but that was it. Well, until I was spotted by a fan and my somewhat peaceful afternoon was ruined.

What's wrong with me? That's not important right now, the integrity of the band is at risk and I'm busy thinking about someone I've never even had a conversation with.

A red light is flashing in the corner of my eye from the answer machine that's got at least five messages from Soph. I'll leave it until morning to call back, maybe afternoon because that will give her time to cool off. Over the years I've learnt women get angry for something I've done or not done like answering the phone. They get all worked up and go a bit psycho, but if you leave them long enough they turn that anger into sadness and they'll ask themselves why I'm acting this way. Maybe it's something they said or they worry about losing me, so they blame themselves and before you know it they're the ones apologizing to me. It works almost every time, and without fail I'm always the one to blame. Soph doesn't deserve this treatment but it's just how I'm programmed.

It's around 4.30 am and I estimate I've gotten around 3 hours sleep, which is more than enough for one night. A rare feeling comes over me of craving company so I call Spencer, no answer. I try Zack, again no answer. I turn to get back into bed but what about Jon? Am I really that desperate? The phone starts ringing as I go to call him.

"Hello?" I answer sleepily in case it's Soph.

"Don't act like you just woke up douche bag, you just rang me and set the dogs off what the fuck do you want?" Ah Zack - I knew I could rely on him.

"Want to come get stoned man?"

There's a long silence before he replies "sure" and hangs up.

Fifteen minutes later Zack lets himself into the apartment, he's the only one with an updated key - I must have had the locks changed no less than twenty times. I'd been wondering what was taking him so long coming from two buildings across from mine, until I see he's carrying a six pack of beers and some Red Bull. Not a perfect accompaniment to weed, but we have to be in a meeting by eight that I stupidly called for.

"So what's going on man? You don't even turn up for half the meetings that we need to have, let alone calling your own one." Zack's right, I fucking hate them. Pete just goes on about how incredible we are whilst Spencer blushes and Jon laps up the praise.

"We're going to fall apart man, I'm guessing you've heard about Pete's big plans for finishing the album early and touring from October?" I'm not asking (because he's bound to know) I just want him to give me any more information I should be hearing.

"Yeah well, some things are better coming from Pete. So I'll ask you again, what's going on man?" Zack's words feel too relaxed, but don't give any feeling of betrayal as he lights the joint. This is why I like him, he's a no-shit kinda guy. Anyone else would be fired with the way he speaks to me.

I take a deep drag and hold my breath whilst asking myself the same question because I've barely had enough time to think it through.

"We need a new member of the band, I want us to hold auditions by the end of next week. I don't want it to be public, this has to be fast and I don't want just anybody turning up. Only musicians that have come recommended." Apparently blurting it out whilst exhaling a cloud of smoke was the way to do it.