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The sound of general chatter and happiness washed over me as we entered the bar, and the prospect of alcohol after my chat with John and my apparent falling out with Garrett (that I still didn’t understand) made me feel a little better. Hey if you couldn’t forget it you could distract yourself with alcohol right? What a solid solution Brandy, well done.

John caught my arm as we made our way through the throng of people to the bar.

“What do you want? Drink’s on me – I’m sorry I made you feel like crap back there.”

I thought about protesting, but he was smiling down at me, looking so guilty behind the eyes that I thanked him and asked for a vodka and coke. He nodded, “Go find the guys, I’ll bring them over.”

I fought my way back over to the booths and saw Jared stick his hand up and wave to me. I made my way over there and told them John was just behind me before slipping in next to Pat on the end of the booth. Garrett was sat by the window, staring out into the street outside, and he didn’t even look up when I sat down, right hand hooked round a pint of beer. I ignored him and just waved my hand vaguely when Jared asked what John wanted earlier. “Just stuff. Vocal talk.” I couldn’t drop John in it with the rest of the band, and I wasn’t about to spill the other topic when Garrett was right there.

Jared nodded and I thought I caught Garrett looking at me from the corner of my eye, but I refused to return his gaze. In a couple of minutes John appeared with both our drinks in his hands. He hooked his foot around a stool and dragged it over to the end of the table and sat down, sliding my drink over to me.

“Drink for the lady,” he said, winking. I rolled my eyes and thanked him anyway, taking a sip. The bite the vodka delivered was entirely welcome.

The evening progressed with a steady flow of drinks and comfortable talk. Kennedy left early to go see Jess which made the boys whistle and wink at him. It would have been fun and easy if it weren’t for the looks I caught Garrett shooting me every now and then, a mixture of stony faced silence and looking like he wanted to say something to me. I left him to it. He’d have to work it out for himself. He was obviously attempting the silent treatment, which I was really confused as to why I deserved, but as usual it got me riled up anyway. I ended up being angry with him instead of being hurt, and kept my conversation away from him the whole evening too.

Instead, I spent the night cracking jokes with John. He was so easy to get along with when he wanted to be and he had me in stitches multiple times, putting my drink down to keep it sloshing over my clothes. The guys swapped tour stories of their drunken escapades and John was just too easy to tease – I mean a photo in a dumpster in the UK? Really? He tried to bullshit us about its secret poetic meaning but I ended up just giggling over him. He couldn’t keep a straight face either and had to leave the table to buy more drinks to stop himself from laughing and giving himself away. He came back with another drink for me, too, which I guessed made up for his pretentiousness.

We left the bar at around 1am. The sun was well and truly set even for Arizona, and I shivered in my light cardigan. We were all pretty tipsy, apart from Jared who hadn’t drank. He made the guys load into John’s truck as Kennedy had taken their ride home, whilst I called a cab. Jared leant out the window and made idle chat until my taxi turned up. I’d have to go and collect my car from 8123 in the morning, but right then I slipped into the back of the taxi gratefully, feeling my eyelids begin to slide shut.

In the taxi home I thought about Garrett and his behaviour towards me, and let my head slip against the cool glass of the window. We’d barely exchanged two words the whole evening and it didn’t sit right in my stomach. I didn’t understand, and it hurt me. I never had liked fighting with Garrett, but as usual I was too proud to let it go. I decided I’d let Garrett realise he’d fucked up first and then see what he had to say for himself. I thought about him lying in bed, Rhiannon asleep next to him, perhaps curled into his side, and felt my blood begin to itch.

Xxx

The sound of my iphone alarm woke me up at six the following morning and I shut it off with a yawn, silencing the quacking ducks sounds (Garrett thought they were hilarious and had changed it one evening and now I was just used to it.) It instantly reminded me of our fight and I sighed and pulled myself slowly out of bed. Thankfully my hang-over wasn’t too bad, just a fuzzy head and some sluggishness. I readied myself for work at half the speed I usually did, nearly falling asleep in the shower. Tayla ended up banging on the door and yelling at me, which just about saved me. When I came out she was still in her pyjamas, hair scraped into a messy bun, her schedule not requiring her to work that day.

“You owe me. I swear to God if I didn’t know about your habit of dropping off in there you’d never make it to work half the time.” She slouched grumpily back to bed, slamming her bedroom door before I could reply. Tayla was not a morning person until she’d had some coffee ‘to dull the pain.’

I vowed to send her a text saying thank you later, and was just about to walk out the door when I hit my snag. Once again, I found myself without my car. I mentally swore at myself and pulled out my phone. I couldn’t ask Tayla to drive me – I really daren’t disturb her again for fear of having my head bitten off. My fingers hovered over Garrett’s speed dial, almost giving in, before I remembered his cold glares from the bar and I changed my mind. I scrolled through my contacts instead.

“Hello? John?”

“Cornelius O’Callaghan V, to be precise. Good morning Brandy,” came his chirpy reply. Far too happy for half seven on a Monday morning. I was surprised he’d even picked up, imagining him to be buried under a mountain of blankets like every other sane person who didn’t have to work.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” I groaned. “Listen, are you up. Like dressed?”

“No, but I could be. Why, what’s up? Why the sudden interest in my lack of attire?” I heard the smile in his voice and it made me smile, too.

“Down, boy.” I laughed. “My car is still at 8123 and I need to get to work. Would you be able to pick me up and drive me to the studio?”

He agreed pretty quickly and I rattled off my address and within ten minutes he was pulling up at the kerb. I rushed out and jumped into the passenger seat, already babbling my thanks to him. He just brushed it off and pulled away. He glanced over at me, his lips twisting into a smile.

“Nice pencil skirt,” he commented. “Very office-appropriate.”

I rolled my eyes at him. It occurred to me that John had never seen me in my work clothes before. Heck, only Garrett had seen me in them a couple of times when we grabbed lunch together. I had a lot of contact with John and the rest of Garrett’s band mates because they were a huge part of his life but my job I kept solely to myself. Partly because I didn’t want to inflict it on anyone else – I hated it. It was such slow, boring work. I’d studied business at college and instead of a graduate scheme; I had landed a shitty PA job where I spent most of my time pushing paper for pointless men who liked to boss me around. I rolled my eyes at John.

“Believe me, if I could wear jeans to work I would.”

John himself looked like he’d thrown on the nearest things to him and headed out the door – his pale blue shirt was wrinkled and creased, and his grey sweats contrasted with his go-to combat boots, creating an interesting outfit. He caught me looking and laughed.

“Shut up, I can totally rock this look.” I just raised my eyebrows at him teasingly.

“Seriously thanks for this, John” I said when we pulled into the lot and I saw my car still sitting in the space I’d left it. He just waved off my thanks again. I sprung out the car and into my own, just about catching him yelling something about texting later before I was zooming to work.

Xxx

In my lunch break I shot Tayla and John a text saying thanks for their various help. Tayla’s reply was short:

Tayla: I’ll figure out some way for you to repay me, promise.

Sounded ominous. John’s reply was a little longer:

John: Seriously, no sweat Brandy. I needed to get out of the house anyway. You beat me to it – was just about to text you. On Friday we’re having a little 8123 shindig, just to keep the whole family tight. You in? I know you and Garrett are weird right now, but you can come as my date or something if Garrett asks, he can't argue with that. I’d hate for you to miss out. Don’t worry, just as friends. J x

It was followed up by a text a minute later:

John: PS I’m going to talk to Hannah this evening. Wish me luck x

I hesitated about the party. I really wasn’t sure I wanted to continue to force my way into Garrett’s life when he was annoyed at me, but I figured it was a week away and we’d at least make some progress before then, so I sent a text to John telling him that it would be great and I’d be there, and wishing him luck with Hannah.

Just as I was about to slip my phone back into the desk drawer I had to keep it in while I worked (oppressive or what?) it vibrated and the screen lit up with Garrett’s name. I wasn’t really expecting to hear from him so soon. I couldn’t control the way my fingers shook slightly as I unlocked the message.

Garrett: We need to talk, Brands.

I stared down at my phone for a minute, backspacing several replies before settling on-

Brandy: Yeah, YOU do. Explain.

His reply came through a second later.

Garrett: Okay, I deserve that. I still want to talk, though. Can I come round on Wednesday? Around eight?

Brandy: Sure.

I guessed I’d just have to wait till Wednesday then. Garrett and I used to fight all the time when we were younger. He’d make some comment that I took the wrong way and I’d yell at him, or I’d piss him off by choosing my other friends over him for a shitty shopping trip or something. Since high school, it hadn’t been an irregular pattern. He’d always resort to one thing: the silent treatment. He became adept at avoiding me, my phone calls, my texts, would pretend to be out when I called at his house. Instead his mother would open the door looking awkward, and I’d have to pretend that I was just asking about homework or something, to save my pride. Mrs Nickelsen always looked at me so sadly and told me she’d pass the message along before glancing up the stairs. Sometimes I caught Garrett peering out of his bedroom window as I walked away down the street again, as if he’d run up there just to watch me leave. Of course he always disappeared behind the curtain when I tried to catch his eye. It usually took him a couple of days to break, by which time we’d already forgiven each other for whatever stupid thing we’d done, but this time something was different, I could feel it. And I didn’t like it.