Loving Him Was Red

~ Losing him was blue like I'd never known
Missing him was dark grey all along
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met
But loving him was red
Loving him was red ~

~ It was three in the morning as she crept down the stairs of his L.A. bungalow. She could hear music blasting from his personal recording studio behind his kitchen area. She needed the sleep and knew he did too. What he was doing up this early mystified her, especially since he was doing it for months now ever since the band agreed to take a break. She tried to coerce him into going out and spending some time together since the last four years of their relationship were a whirlwind of televised events, concerts, music videos and recording time. The darkness of the house only intensified her need to remain silent as she sneaked through the house. When she reached the door to the recording studio, she hesitated briefly, wondering if she should just let it slide as she had every other night. However, a part of her wanted to confront him because she felt that it would not stop unless she did. Slowly, she turned the knob and opened the door. ~

Three years was not as long as she thought it was supposed to be. She thought that after three years, her feelings would be different that her body would not react the same way it did. She thought that after three years, hearing his name would not make her heart rate speed up; that her heart would not ache. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling this way. Maybe it’s just nerves, she thought to herself. She jumped when the elevator came to a stop. The doors slowly opened and she stared into the front office area of Crush Management. She never imagined that she would be back in this room. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the elevator and clutching her oversized messenger bag, approached the sleek black receptionist desk. Emma you were going to have to face him some time, she thought.

“Can I help you?” A perky looking, curly haired brunette looked up at her from her silver MacBook Pro laptop. She smiled, although she looked slightly irritated when she did, as if Emma’s very presence was interrupting her online purchasing.

Emma put on her best smile and pulled out her press pass and authorization letter from her editor, Christian Hoard. “Yes, I’m Emma Mann, I’m the writer from Rolling Stone that is supposed to be covering the Fall Out Boy tour?”

The girl took her form and press pass and in a painfully determined way, looked over all of it. “You’re here to see Bob and the boys, right?”

Emma’s eyes widened, “Oh the band is here too? I had no idea.” She thought it would have been better to first meet with Bob to make sure that he would be okay with the idea of her following them around on tour for the next three months.

The girl nodded and picked up her phone. “Yeah, of course. They’re excited about you coming. The fact that the magazine wanted to follow them around on their first tour in what five years? Pretty cool stuff.” She dialed Bob’s extension.

“Yeah, I bet they’ll be even more excited when they see me,” she muttered to herself, leaning resignedly on the top of the desk.

The receptionist looked at her curiously. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Emma replied, straightening up quickly.

“Bob? Yeah, the writer from Rolling Stone is here,” she said into the phone. “You mean her…. Yeah, really – okay, I’ll bring her in.” she hung up the phone and stood up. “Okay, Bob wants me to take you back there to his office.” She walked from behind her desk and Emma noticed how thin the girl was and tall. She did not look like an aspiring songwriter or musician. She figured she was probably a model who needed extra cash to pay for her glamor shots and Bob wanted an attractive face in the front.

They made their way back to Bob’s office, and Emma glanced at the walls on either side of them. They were lined with the gold and platinum records of the groups that Bob and his team managed, to include a number of Fall Out Boy records. She remembered walking through this corridor before and it used to feel shorter. Now, she felt as if she was walking to a guillotine. Every step was filled with trepidation of what lay beyond Bob’s tall office door.

The receptionist knocked lightly on the door, and that’s when Emma focused in on the laughter and loud talking that was going on behind the door. She recognized Pete’s hyperactive tone, Joe’s nasally sarcastic retorts, Andy’s soft spoken comments and last of all Patrick’s awkward laughs. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the door opened and the receptionist poked her head in.
“Bob, I’ve brought her back,” she said.

“Well, Tracy, bring her in! God, don’t let her stand out there all day! We have a tour to start and she has an article to work on!” Bob exclaimed in his booming New York accent.

Tracy glanced back at her and beckoned for her to enter the room. “Bob, boys, this is Emma Mann, the writer from Rolling Stone.”

As she entered the room, all talking ceased instantly and there were five pairs of male eyes directed at her, but the only ones that caught hers were hiding behind a pair of square black glasses. Her heart was racing like a freight train about the careen off a cliff. The equal amounts of surprise and disbelief were spread across the five male faces. She wondered who would kick her out first. Bob stood up.
“Emma, that’s Mr. McLynn back there, and that’s Pete, Patrick,”

“She knows who we are, Tracy, thanks,” Pete said quickly. Emma turned her gaze away from Patrick and at Pete, his best friend. He looked so different than the last time she had seen him. Gone was the eyeliner and jet black hair that just hung over his eyes. He kept his hair shorter and more upright and wore a padded jacket, black jeans and a flannel shirt.

Tracy glanced at Emma and then at the men in front of them. “Uh, okay. Well, I’ll go then,” she said by way of excusing herself. Even though the door shut, no one had yet spoken. Then Bob put on a big smile and walked around from the front of his desk.

“Emma Mann, I did not know you were with The Stone now!” He opened his arms wide and gave her a big bear hug. Bob McLynn was a big Italian man who enjoyed expensive suits and dousing himself in Calvin Klein cologne. Although he always reminded Emma of a mobster, he cared about the boys and was a genuinely good guy. Emma hugged him back.

“Yeah, I accepted a position with them almost three years ago,” she explained.

“That’s excellent!” he replied. “I don’t know why Christian didn’t mention it was you that he was sending our way.”

“Er, it’s because I was a last minute decision. See, Jared Rice typically does these stories, but he had an, um, emergency gallbladder surgery about four days ago. When Christian found out that I used to… well, he insisted I take over for him. I guess that’s what you get when you work with a bunch of really good journalists,” she replied. “Plus, I’m not sure if you noticed, but he has a flare for the dramatics at times.”
Bob nodded. “Yes, I’ve known Christian for awhile now, you’re right he does love drama.” He moved away from her and glanced at the guys. “Well, I guess there’s no need for intros huh?”

Pete stood up and embraced Emma. “Munchkin, it’s been too long,” he said wrapping her in a tight hug. She felt herself blush at his nickname. She hadn’t been called that in such a long time. The only reason they called her that was because she made him, Patrick and Andy feel just a bit taller because she only stood at 5’3’’. Joe and Andy also jumped up to greet her.

“Congrats on the new gig, that’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” Joe asked her after they hugged.

She hugged Andy and said, “Yeah, it is. I guess you can say I’m a real music journalist now huh?”

“You were always one to us,” Andy replied, smiling widely. Pete tapped him on the shoulder and Andy glanced behind him, where Patrick stood awkwardly. Andy quickly moved out of the way.

“Hey,” he said softly, glancing down at the ground. He didn’t move in for a hug, which although did not surprise Emma, did hurt her a bit.

“Hi Patrick,” she replied, matching his tone. “How are you?” she asked him. Typically, the question was just a standard greeting she used but for him it meant so much more.

“I’m good, real good,” he replied.

“Yeah, you look great,” she said warmly. It was true, in fact, he had shed so much weight, started styling his short hair and got rid of the sideburns and trucker hats, that she had barely recognized him except that she could never forget his eyes… or mouth…

“Thanks, so do you,” he said, brushing his hand through his hair. He looked down at his feet and that awkward silence filled the air again. Emma peered around Patrick at his other band members. They all were looking at each other, unsure of what to say or do next.

“So, it’s been a long time since you’ve been on tour with us, are you ready for the craziness?” Pete asked her, breaking the silence and coming between her and Patrick.

She grinned. “I’m just happy to see the four of you together again. Getting to tour with you and getting to do this article are just bonuses.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, I think I’m going to puke,” Joe retorted giving her a sarcastic grin.

She rolled her eyes. “And I’m glad to see you guys haven’t changed that much.”

“Our fashion sense just got better,” Pete replied. “Except Andy, he still likes walking around without a shirt.” He lightly punched Andy in the shoulder.

“It’s true, I like the freedom,” Andy replied lightly.

Emma laughed, and could feel the lump weighing down her chest breaking apart. She glanced at Patrick who was still looking at her, but he did not look angry. He looked confused, sad, and happy all at the same time. It always killed her how he could convey so many conflicting emotions with his eyes and face. “And Joe, you apparently haven’t seen a hair stylist in four years,” she joked.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “I’m embracing my Jew fro,” he said with a grin. “This makes it fun to rock out on the guitar. Like Slash.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I can only imagine.”

“You haven’t changed,” Patrick spoke up. They all turned their eyes on him. Pete raised an eyebrow questioningly. “I mean, you seem to be the same, except, your hair’s a lot lighter.”

She brushed her long bangs out of her face. “Yeah, I was getting tired of brown. They really speak the truth when they say blondes have more fun.” She smiled ruefully.

“Yeah you look like you just came back from the beach,” Pete added. “What have you gotten all girly on us?”

She laughed. “Yes, I learned a thing or two about fashion and hair styling since you last saw me.” She remembered that the last time she and Patrick had seen each other, she was still dying her naturally dirty blonde hair dark chocolate brown and she tended to wear jeans and a t-shirt.. Her outfit that she was wearing at that moment was drastically different than what they were used to seeing her in; a loose, sheer peach blouse atop pair of dark skinny jeans and a pair of metallic gold sandals. “New York City does have that effect on people.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve watched an episode of Sex and the City once or twice,” Pete said teasingly. She rolled her eyes. What surprised her most was how relaxed all of the guys were. The last time she saw them, they were sullen and emotional and barely talking to each other. Now, they were laughing and joking around, just like old times. It made Emma smile.

Bob broke through the small reunion and wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulder, guiding her away from the band and over to his desk. “Okay, now that you are all caught up, let’s get down to business.” He looked over his shoulder at the boys. “Guys, why don’t you go and meet up with Brent. I know he was wanting to go over some production stuff with you guys before you all head out.” He narrowed his eyes at Patrick, who seemed to still be in a shocked state.

“Sure thing, Bob,” Pete said, grabbing Patrick’s shoulders, breaking him from his trance. “Let’s go guys.”

Emma watched as they made their way out of the office, Patrick’s eyes, darting back to meet hers. Her heart fluttered yet again and she silently cursed herself. Once the door was shut, she turned back to Bob. “Bob, I am so sorry if any of this is weird or awkward. If you think it’s better I don’t do the story, please, be honest with me. I can take it.”

Bob sighed, fixed his jacket and sat down behind his modern style black desk. “Emma, I think you’d be the perfect person to write this article. You’re knowledge about these guys, your familiarity with our tour practices will allow you really let them shine. Patrick is a grown man, he will get over the fact that you are here.” He leaned over the table and took her hand. “I am sorry though that you two are not together. Four years is a long time to be with someone these days, and I still couldn’t believe it ended when I first heard.”

She smiled grimly. “Thanks Bob, but it was a lifetime ago, right? I’ve changed, he has apparently changed. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He leaned back and nodded. “Of course. You both are professional first and foremost. So, let’s talk about this article business.”