Everyone But You

Ryan was staring intently at the drinks menu. It wasn't something he usually did, especially not at midday or with a casual lunch with friends, but despite appearences this was the least casual lunch he'd had in years and it was hardly with a friend.

The waiters were buzzing around behind him. He could feel them leaning attentively towards him, perky waiting for the lift of a hand or a clipped voice yelling to come. He felt like there were too many pairs of eyes on him, and if there was anything he hated it was eyes. It was eyes, it was gazes, it was looks and stares and wide or narrow-eyed glimpses and glances. Sureptitious or obvious.

His nervous brown pair lifted and met another, four feet above him and sitting beneath bold eyebrows. His stomach flipped and crashed.
"Hey," he said, getting to his feet, clammy palm outstretched.
"Hello," Brendon said quietly, not looking Ryan in the eye. The waiters seemed to straighten and focus around them, it was all quiet at Brendon took out his chair opposite and sat on it. Ryan peeked at the other man from underneath his fringe, his nice shirt, good jeans, smart belt, epitome of musician happy in LA with a record deal and people behind him. He slotted in well amongst the crowd gathered here, Ryan thought, not like himself who'd turned up in yesterday's t-shirt and the day before that's jeans.
"Thanks for coming," Brendon started, and rested his hands on the table.
Ryan shrugged. "It's nothing."
"Well, I appreciate it."
Ryan laid the drinks menu down on the table again, eyeing up a foreign beer. "You appreciate it or the label appreciates it?"
"We both do," Brendon said quietly, still refusing to make eye contact.
"Still happy with them huh?" Ryan asked, nodding his head along gently.
"Yes," Brendon replied curtly.
'"Still letting you do your own thing?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
Brendon snatched a menu that a water handed to him and opened it, silent for a few seconds. Then he came up with:
"So how's LA treating you?"
"Just fine, thanks."
"It's hardly an environment conducive to creating that laid-back vintage kinda sound you guys are so crazy about."
"It's where I need to be to meet the people," Ryan murmured.
"Is that right," Brendon murmured, and then looking towards a waiter, "I'll take the beef taco salad. And a Cobra."
Ryan looked towards the waiter too. "I'll take the crab salad. And uh, a beer please."
Brendon drummed his fingers on the table and then, removing the shades clipped into his shirt pocket said, with great effort,
"Look, I don't want things to be difficult with us. Not now we've gotten this far."
Ryan shrugged. "Me neither."
"So," Brendon said softly. "Let's just agree to disagree on some things. Hopefully not everything. And then we can go away from this, I can tell my manager it was cool, you can your manager it was cool, things might happen to benefit us both."
"Benefit us both..."
Brendon bit his tongue. "Yes, Ryan. Us both. If you didn't think so then why did you come? Hoping for some free chow?"
Ryan leaned back in his seat and looked down at the stain on his jeans. It looked like bean sauce, or ketchup. He picked at it, trying to decide which as he murmured, "I was interested."
"In what?""
Ryan glanced up. "I don't know. In doing something together, specially after what happened. I kinda thought it was like we didn't leave any footprints in the sand, you know? I didn't think we could get back from that."
"And you haven't wanted to try, in all this time?"
"Maybe," Ryan said, turning his head towards one of the waiters, eyes lowered and wistful.

Brendon sat back in his chair with a deep sigh. "So, do you want to know the deal?"
Ryan's mouth twitched. Brendon slammed his hand down on the table suddenly and exclaimed, "No, fuck that for now. Tell me how you been first, then business."
Ryan eyed him suspiciously. He was full of bold boisterous good looks and Ryan was neither bold nor boisterous.
"I've been good," Ryan said, nodding hi head a little. "Ah, you know the rest. About the tours and the record and stuff."
"You're happy with what you're doing."
"I'm happy creating."
"Good," Brendon said, nodding over enthusiastically. The beers arrives and each guy took one with relish, eager to give themselves a second to think.
"How about you?" Ryan said quietly, eventually.
"Things are good," Brendon replied. "We've toured a lot, I feel we've really got the record out there, got some people on board. We did some stuff in Europe which was pretty crazy. I like the direction we're going in."
Ryan nodded sagely. "I guess it's where you always wanted to go."
"I think I've been faithful to the sound I always wanted to make."
"And Spencer, too," Ryan added, and then paused, taking a sip of his beer. "How is he?"
"He's great. Spencer is Spencer you know, he's happy just going along making the music he wants to make in his own way, you know? No confrontation, he just does it. He's no different."
"Feel kinda bad I've hardly seen him in all this time," Ryan murmured, passing his fingertips across his mouth.
"Don't worry about it," Brendon said instantly, although they both knew there was more to it than that, and it carved a silence in between them which was eventually broken when the food arrived.
"That was fast," Brendon commented, and Ryan hoped the conversation wasn't going to be bulked out with banal comments and how-are-you's. His eyes were heavy and full of thoughts, his head a little bowed.

"So I was in Mexico the other week," Brendon started, mouth full of food. "Just on a vacation, I wanted some time off. It was so beautiful. We stayed in this tiny little hotel way up in the mountains, it was gorgeous."
"That's cool," Ryan murmured.
"Yeah, we did this little back-packing trip on alpacas where they take you up there and you camp out at this amazing site, and the stars there, they're so clear."
"You go with Spence?"
"Nah, God no, my fiancée."
Ryan stopped to swallow. "Your fiancée?"
Brendon nodded. "Yeah."
Ryan laid his fork down on the table. "Shit, I didn't even know you were engaged."
"Don't worry about it," Brendon said, raising his hand in the air.
"When..." Ryan started. "I mean, you've fixed a date."
"The beginning of next year. She wanted to do the whole winter thing. She's going crazy right now trying to buy everything for the reception, wants to kit it out herself, interior design and that stuff, that's her thing."
"Oh," Ryan echoed softly. "Well, I mean, congratulations, man. I'm happy for you."
Brendon beamed. "She's gorgeous. She's a real catch. I know I'm lucky."
"Yeah," Ryan murmured.
"I mean, she'll be stopping by, she said she'd come say hi, she's doing some more wedding shopping so I figured you two could..."
Ryan lifted his head from his salad. "Meet?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Brendon raised an eyebrow, mouthed a few words then said finally, "Um, well, if you don't want to, that's cool, it was just--"
Ryan shook his head. "No, I didn't, um, no, that's fine. I'd love to meet her."
"Awesome," Brendon said, and took a bite of his salad.

Ryan looked down at his food and stabbed a salad leaf, crushed it into his mouth. The waiters weren't watching quite as intently now, or at least if the were, they weren't showing it.
"So this thing," Ryan began.
Brendon grinned. "You've never been great at getting a whole sentence out."
The colour rose on Ryan's cheeks. "What's the deal?"
Brendon shrugged and took a sip of his beer, lifting a hand into the air. "I don't know. Well, I know. I know that the label are thinking this good be for business, let's not beat around the bush."
"So it's a money thing."
"I'm not saying that."
"Well, if it's not a music thing--"
"It is a music thing. It's a timing thing. I don't know, single out around Christmas, maybe a couple of re-union shows--"
"Who said anything about a reunion?"
"Well, it's just an idea."
"Last time I checked we couldn't decide on what era of music we were trying to channel. If we can't get the fundamentals down I don't think we can make shows together work."
Brendon looked back at Ryan, aghast. Even Ryan was breathing a little hard.
"You're really angry about this, aren't you," Brendon murmured.
Ryan looked down at his food, blushing. He heard the click-clack of heels on the tiles as he dug out a mushroom and then the babble of amicable chit-chat. He looked up again and there was a girl standing there, hand draped delicately over Brendon's shoulder.
"Hullo," Ryan managed, getting hastily to his feet. "Ryan."
The woman smiled and reached out for a hand that wasn't there; Ryan stuck it out in a badly-timed attempt to make friends as she pulled hers away. He murmured, "Uh..."
"This is Jessica," Brendon chirped, watching Ryan with a frown as he got back into his seat.
"Nice to meet you," Jessica said to fill yet another silence and all Ryan could do was try not to look at her. He was too distracted by the pixie-like quality of her fine features, was scared she might try to enchant him too.
"Let me get you a seat," Brendon said.
"No, no," Jessica replied with a smile, holding her hands up. "I'm not stopping. I have to go get some stuff, you know that." Ryan watched as she shoved him playfully in the arm. "But, oh my God, I've been having so much trouble trying to get hold of these record sleeves for the menus on the tables to go into, you know, I thought it'd be so cool and retro, a billion shops in LA are bound to sell them but nobody wants them to get like, I don't know, damaged..."
"Well how hard can it be?" Brendon asked. "Can't they like put them on loan or something?"
"I don't think that's the issue."
"It's all 'cause of the art work and stuff," Ryan chipped in, making both of the other heads turn towards him. "Being original prints and all."
"It's such a stupid thing," Jessica murmured. "I just wanted it to be right."
Brendon slid an arm around her waist. "Well you know, do your best. You know these people. And after all it's a nice touch but it's not essential, right?"
"I guess not," Jessica murmured quietly.
Ryan contemplated his bottle of beer for a second longer and then said,
"I have some, you know. I have dozens." Silence edged in. "You can uh, have 'em if you like."
Jessica looked sideways at Brendon and then said tentatively, "God, that's awfully generous of you, Ryan. Are you sure?"
"Sure," he nodded, with half a smile.
"What kind of stuff do you have?"
"I don't know, um, some Beatles, some Turtles, the Kinks..."
"I love the Kinks!" She exclaimed, captivating with her bright white smile. "That would be amazing if you could..."
Ryan shrugged. "Whatever. It's nothing. You guys can stop by this week to pick them up." He felt a proud lump rising in his throat, the heat on his face from her gaze.
"Thanks man," Brendon murmured, and Ryan allowed himself a smile.