I Just Wanted to be Edgy Too

Chapter Thirty

Van

"If you don't get yourself sorted out, we're going to have some real problems, Ryan."

Ryan.

Steve never called me Ryan. No one ever called me by my name unless it was warranted. It was reminiscent of another time in my life, when I was younger, more ruthless perhaps. Steve only called me by first name when things were too serious for our own good, or when I had the potential to truly mess something up.

I messed something up.

And I didn't just mess it up; I proper ruined it.

I couldn't even look at him as he laid into me backstage. Bondy sat behind me, shifting uncomfortably every few moments. Bob and Benji were on the couch, concern painted their features but they weren't going to say anything with Steve here. The only one missing was Larry, which seemed odd. He was normally wherever I was.

"What's going on? Have we been expecting too much? I know this tour's been a heavy one, longer, more grueling, but what was that?" I could hear the annoyance in Steve's tone.

He was referring to the mess I'd made of the show we played. I forgot the words to 2all, and turned the bridge of it into an odd loop of Intermission and Sidetrack. The band couldn't keep up, and I didn't blame them. I didn't warn them about this, and by the time they caught onto whatever change I was making, I flipped words and turned it into something else. Bondy didn't look too pleased with me at the moment. I wasn't pleased with myself either. As if forgetting the words wasn't enough, I shattered my guitar at the beginning of Cocoon, and played half the final song without a majority of sound. The fans didn't care, at least they didn't seem to, but everyone else had white knuckles and frowns. I also kicked over a speaker and dented one of Bob's cymbals when I slid backwards into his drum set.

"I was proper pissed tonight, mates. I'm sorry." And I was. Guilt wrapped round my shoulders like a jumper.

"You weren't just pissed, Van. What are ya on, mate?" Benji's tone was soft, but it's edges were rigid.

"I'm fine."

"That's a load." Bob said while gnawing on his bottom lip and shaking his head. "You're beyond mental if you think I'm going to believe that."

"It's been a rough day, that's all."

"S'pose it's been a tough two months." Bondy finally broke his silence. I turned to him immediately, pleading with bloodshot eyes that he'd just keep things to himself, keep it all to himself. "Ever since this tour started you've been miserable. Maybe it's Barns. Maybe we ought to play the rest of the dates without him."

Steve laughed. "If this is all some sort of bull shit about you butting heads with Barns Courtney, swallow that pill and move on. He's not leaving the tour this late in the game unless the reason's weighted enough. Not liking someone isn't a reason."

Bondy smirked.

"Unless there's more." Steve raised his eyebrows, and I silently pleaded with Bondy again. Not here, not now.

"He's just an arse. None of us like him, but we'll suck it up for the sake of the tour." Bondy tossed me a quick glance and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"We've got broken equipment to fix, and a I'm sure you're going to see videos of this whole thing online."

"Tell the kids I was drunk."

"You're missing the point." Steve's words had a bite to them.

I shook my head as Steve hesitated in the doorway, index finger pointed at me as he spoke. "Three years ago, I would have expected this. Not now. You have an album that you're expected to record in months. You should be working on writing that, not working yourself into oblivion." He turned on a flick of his wrist, the awkward silence between me and three of my four brothers gnawed at me.