Infamous

The air in the living room was tense, fed by the jittery knees and apprehensive postures of the five men seated there. In the center of their world-weary constellation, Riley was on the couch, leaning against the arm with one foot pulled up onto the cushion, playing self-assured like it was his dying role.

“What do you mean we’re going to Los Angeles?” Darien questioned, looking from Riley to the others as though double-checking that they’d heard the same words from their friend’s mouth. “For how long?”

Riley shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the others in an attempt to downplay. “Maybe forever,” he said, glancing to Jedidiah. “The band is drowning here. You guys said it yourselves at the Wellsner meeting; we’re not going to make it big by begging local pubs to let us play half-sets.”

Apprehension flittered across the expressions of Riley’s band mates. Darien’s mouth dropped open, his blue eyes still searching the others for reasonable reactions. Rush sat silently in the chair beside the couch. The only visible sign of surprise, hesitation, was the way his fingers stilled their tapping and his hands sat limp in his lap as he processed, listened. Casey was already shaking his head, preparing to rise from his spot in front of the coffee table and end this impromptu meeting with his departure.

“You can’t be serious,” Darien implored, turning back to Riley, who still looked as though they were making too much fuss over it.

Jed sighed, leaning forward into the circle of his friends. “We talked about it and-“

“You knew he was planning this?” Casey’s accusing gaze snapped to Jed, anger brimming at all his edges, hands fisted against his thighs.

Jed shook his head, holding his hand up to quell his friend. “It’s not like that,” he defended. “It was just a thought. I assumed Riley was going to ask what you all thought,” he said pointedly, aiming the words at their singer. “I didn’t know he was going to do it like this.”

“Like this,” Casey repeated, glancing back to Riley in disgust. “Like we’re his lackeys, and we’ll just follow him across the country because he tells us to.”

Riley rolled his eyes, finally showing some interest in the conversation he started. “It’s either leave or the band dies here,” he said plainly. “If it’s your girlfriend you’re worried about, bring her. It’s not like she can’t be a nurse anywhere.”

Casey shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not the point,” he answered, glancing to Jed like the guitarist might wrangle Riley in, talk sense into him, drag him down from where he dawdled among the stars. When Jed said nothing, did nothing, Casey continued, “The point is that I can’t just move. None of us can. We have jobs here, lives here. Well, except for you, obviously.”

Riley smiled into the intended insult, his foot slipping to the floor as he straightened up. “This band is enough for me,” he said with a shrug. “If I have to leave to keep it alive, I will.”

Rush leaned forward, his sweatered shoulder brushing against Jedidiah’s sleeve. “The band won’t survive if you sever its arm,” he said, glancing to Riley softly, glancing back to the others. Next to Riley, Darien nodded at Rush’s words.

“You act like the band goes with you when you leave,” Casey said, shaking his head. “If you leave and we all stay here, you’re the severed arm, Riley, not us. You’re not the band.”

Darien’s eyes widened another notch, his head still bobbing, attention flickering between Riley and the others.

Jedidiah shook his head, let out another sigh, picked at a gouge in the coffee table, and returned to his role of mediator. “We just need to talk about this,” he said. “Not argue. Even though he sounds like a dicktator, Riley’s just presenting the idea, for discussion, feedback.”

Riley let the insult roll off him and settled in again, comfortable, as though none of this phased him. Like he knew that his outcome was inevitable despite their rebuttals. “Fine,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “Discuss.”

They went around for almost two hours, each dragged a little closer to conceding before another band member’s argument dragged them back to the point of disagreement. Riley’s biggest contributions were the eye-rolls, the sighs, the shakes of his head. Jed spoke on his behalf, edging around the reason he was taking Riley’s side, unable to breech the topic with Riley within hearing range.

“LA would provide so many opportunities,” he said instead, desperate for his friends to hear him. “There are so many more legitimate bars and clubs. So many more people with the ability to hear us.”

“So many more people trying to get heard,” Casey rebutted. “You ever heard the idiom ‘big frog, little pond; little frog, big pond’? We’ll be competing against every other aspiring musician, every person with a guitar and a street corner.”

“Isn’t it ‘fish’?” Darien questioned. “’Big fish, little pond’?”

“Does it matter?” Casey asked incredulously, staring at his friend in disbelief.

Darien frowned defensively. “You’re the one who asked if I’d heard it,” he replied. “I’ve heard ‘fish’, not ‘frog’."

Casey sighed, pressed his fingers against his temples, and closed his eyes. Darien frowned.

“Aren’t we already doing that though?” Rush questioned. “Competing with everyone else, I mean.”

Casey opened his eyes and shook his head, throwing his hands up as his friends grew frustratingly close to breaching the line of scrimmage and crossing into rival territory, Riley territory.

Jed motioned for him to sit still, calm down. “They’ve got a point,” he said to Casey, glancing to Darien and Rush, to Riley. “Everyone’s got the internet. We’re already little fish in a big pond.”

“Then why do we have to go to LA? If Riley wants Adejiay so bad, why can’t he just send them an email? Attach a track, stop romanticizing it all, and wait, like a normal person.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed, impossibly dark in the dim-light of the living room. Heavy curtains draped over every window, pulled shut and rarely opened. Dimness was a Riley preference, a Riley requirement.

“Do you even want this?” he deadpanned. “Because it sounds like you couldn’t give a shit whether or not this band makes it. You’d rather survive on the edge than throw yourself in and risk it. Stop acting so damn scared.”

Casey bristled at the accusation. “We are ‘making it’,” he answered darkly. “From right here, at home. I’m sorry, Riley, but I don’t want to go traipsing across the country with no guarantee of anything. Hell, without a place to live, without jobs. I don’t covet the life of a starving artist. I prefer to eat.”

“Me too,” Darien added, avoiding the weighty glare that Riley leveled at him.

As Rush stood, each of the men leaned back in unison, tension broken, discussion paused. Darien sighed in relief.

“I’ve got a lesson,” Rush explained, flashing the time at them, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Let me know what you decide.”

Darien frowned. “We can’t decide without you,” he called to the drummer as he headed upstairs to clean himself up.

Rush paused on the staircase, leaning back just enough for them to see him around the wall. “I’ll do whatever you guys decide,” he spoke, glancing to their singer as Riley’s eyes burned. Riley nodded, acknowledging Rush’s acquiescence. The drummer’s chin dipped, then he turned away.

Casey’s anger brewed as they listened to the sound of Rush’s steps on the stairs, then on the floor above them. “He’s got more to lose than half of you,” the bassist spoke, head shaking. “He’s being an idiot.”

Darien opened his mouth to defend Rush, but Jed cut in first. “You’re the only one who won’t even consider…” he said, looking to Darien, whom oscillated between both sides.

“You haven’t even given us a legitimate reason,” Riley lobbed in. Fuel to the fire.

“I’ve given you half a dozen! Our house, our jobs!”

“Shitty,” Riley commented. “Shittier.”

Casey bristled, shook. “Laurel.” He said like a challenge, like she was some insurmountable road block. The losing screen at the end of Riley's game.

Riley held his gaze, breathed in slowly, deeply. Almost spoke.

Jed cut in before he could open his mouth. “Case, can’t you at least talk to her?” he implored. “Just broach the topic. If she’s closed to it, we won’t go.”

Outrage struck Riley. He jolted up in his seat. “She’s not even-!”

Jed glared at the singer, silenced him. “She’s one of us,” he said to Riley, to Casey. Centering as Darien nodded. “She’s one of us. It was fucked up of us to not invite her to have a say in all this.”

Casey shook his head, even as Riley stayed silent, sulking. “She’s against it,” Casey answered, immediately sending Riley into another round of pointed expressions, demanding looks. “She’s not moving,” Casey reiterated firmly, protectively.

“Does she have family here?” Darien asked, honestly interested, trying to understand.

They stayed silent for a moment as Rush’s footsteps sounded on the steps, his sticks bleating a paradiddle against the dry-wall. He jangled the keys as he fished them out and left, pulling the door shut behind him. Leaving the guys with silence.

“That’s not the point,” Casey answered, glancing to Darien. “I’m her family. She needs me here.”

“She needs you,” Riley said. “It doesn’t have to be here.”

“You don’t know shit,” Casey retorted, blazing.

“I know she can speak for herself,” the singer answered. “I know her number.”

Casey shot up off the floor, deterred only by Darien who stepped between him and Riley’s smirk in the same split second. Not willing to go through someone else, through Darien, to get to Riley, Casey dropped back to the floor, backing away from the singer in disgust.

“You’re repulsive,” he lobbed. “Abhorrent. You’d do whatever you can to get what you want, wouldn’t you?”

Riley shrugged as Darien moved from his line of sight, tipped his head back as he looked at Casey, blinked. “Yes,” he spoke. “Calling your girlfriend is the least of the abhorrent things I’d do, Casey.”

Casey grunted, glanced away from the singer. “Leave Laurel alone,” he warned.

“Guys,” Jed sighed the word. “Casey, Riley’s petulant; he’s an asshole. No one is debating that." He paused and looked to Riley, who simply shrugged. Point solidified, Jed continued, "But he has a point. If we’re going to treat Laurel like she’s one of us, like she deserves, then she should be able to speak for herself. We should call her. It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” Casey parroted. “That’s bullshit.”

“What,” Riley murmured, looking to Casey from the corner of his eye, “you think she won’t agree with you? Won’t listen to you, Casey? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“Fuck you,” Casey spit. “She’s too good of a girl for you assholes to guilt her into picking up her whole life and starting over. For some god-forsaken reason, she cares about us, this band. She’d give up a lot for it, and I won’t let her throw her stability away for anyone.”

Jed softened. “Case, it’s not like we’d throw her to the wolves. Hell, she’d probably do better in LA than the rest of us.”

“Exactly,” Casey retorted, shaking his head. “She doesn’t need our weight on her shoulders. I’ve given her enough to put up with already.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed, watching his friend’s expression, his posture, reading into Casey’s defensiveness. “If you’re such a burden,” he taunted, “do her a favor and break up with her. Leave her here and go to LA. Get out of her hair.”

Casey’s jaw locked. He dug his heel into the threadbare carpet, the toe of his shoe knocking against the leg of the coffee table. He met Riley’s unrelenting gaze, flinched against the impossible blackness of Riley’s irises. Sometimes, staring into Riley’s eyes was like seeing the black-hole of his soul.

“She pregnant?” Riley asked.

Casey breathed out through his nose, teeth clenched.

Darien’s mouth parted, blue eyes wide, head snapping back to Casey.

“Shit, man,” Jed breathed. “She is, isn’t she?”

Casey pulled at the carpet, glanced down as the beige threads came up in his fingers. “Yeah,” he said. “Four months. A girl.”