Masterpiece Theater

October 2007

“Yo! Brian! Come on!” Jimmy shouted at me. I flicked my cigarette to the ground.

“Fuck off, Jimmy. We’re not late.”

“We will be if you keep making out with your reflection. For fuck’s sake, I’m not even that obsessed with myself.” Johnny felt the need to add. I rolled my eyes and followed them into the venue, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders.

I was the last to fall in, stopping to chug a beer and a couple shots. Val came up behind me, pressing her hand between my shoulder blades.

“You okay?” She asked, her eyes holding motherly concern.

“Does it matter?”

“Brian, you guys have been running since June, doing Warped and recording. Now, you’re starting another tour, and dropping the new album tomorrow. It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I miss her.”

“I know. Have you talked to Ali? Or Jason?”

I shook my head. They had both pretty much fallen out of contact since we did Warped Tour. Jason had decided I was too much of a risk to his and Ian’s relationship, whatever that meant. I just prayed that without his sister, he stayed on the rails. If he went off the deep-end and she wasn’t around, there was no telling what would happen. I still felt a sense of responsibility for him, but he didn’t want me around. I got the message loud and clear.

As for Ali, after I’d given her the bracelet to give to Laurel, she quit taking my calls, too. Soon after that, her number got disconnected.

Laurel was lost to the wind and I had no way of finding her, of making sure she was okay. Chicago P.D. said that her husband had been released from the force, but that was all the information they could offer. All my leads were dead ends.

I prayed every night that she wasn’t.

“You know why she went back with him, hun. She wouldn’t have gone if she didn’t love you. You know that, right?”

I nodded. I still hadn’t told her Matt was the reason the whole thing happened. As far as she knew, we just got in a drunken bar fight for the hell of it. The guys knew, but they wanted to spare Val from that knowledge.

“I know. It just...it fucking sucks and it hurts and we’re about to go on the road and I promised her a spot, you know? I told her I’d bring her to a show.”

“I’m sorry, Bri.”

She hugged me tight. It helped a little.

What helped even more was another shot before soundcheck.

Since Laurel had left, I held out the hope that I would hear from her, or at least about her. If Finn had taken her to the hospital after shooting her, if he still hit her, if she was trying to get away from him again.

Thoughts of her plagued me, not just my waking hours, but my sleeping hours as well. Her smile, the way she smelled, her laughter. For a while, I kept thinking that I was seeing her on the street, but it was never her.

She was gone and didn’t want to be found.

Or couldn’t be.

The only thing that kept me going was that Jason knew how I felt about her. If she was in serious trouble, or in the hospital, or worse, he would let me know. He told me as much.

“Come on, Gates. We have a soundcheck to do.” Johnny whined. I finally let go of Val, thanking her with a smile, and grabbed my Shecter to get to work.

Laurel was gone, but her memory remained. Everyone knew how much I was hurting over it, and Matt knew that I still blamed him, and probably would for a long time, but we had a job to do, and more importantly, we had a friendship that spanned almost two decades. Nothing was ever going to get in the way of that.

It was part of the reason why I threw myself so hard into recording. The more I did, the more exhausted I was, the less time I had to actively think about her. Laurel was a distraction I couldn’t afford anymore.

After the show, after the screaming fans and the double encore and the breakdown of our set, I was dripping with sweat and completely sober.

I wasn’t the only one, and we were all amped up, ready to hit the road and kick off the tour for real.

“Dibs on the shower!” Zacky yelled, leaving the packing up of his equipment to the Berry brothers. He hauled ass out of the venue and Jimmy raced after him. At a foot taller than Zack, he had the advantage.

I smirked and shook my head as he practically leapfrogged over Zack to get out of the venue and to the bus first.

I lit a cigarette and held it between my lips as I helped pack up equipment. My ears were ringing, my head was buzzing, and I just wanted some kind of release. There was too much energy running in my veins and I needed to burn it off before getting packed onto a bus with everyone else.

A good fuck was what I needed. An eight month dry spell hadn’t really done me any favors.

Outside, at the busses, as always, stood a crowd of fans, waiting for pictures and autographs and just a glimpse of us. Security held them at bay as we stopped and talked to them, signed all kinds of pieces of paper, and took pictures.

Unlike a lot of bands, we weren’t dicks to our fans. We always did our best to meet them and spend a few minutes with them. They were what made us. They were part of the family that we had amassed on this journey. They deserved our respect as much as we had theirs.

Reflexively, I scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Laurel, even if it was just a glimpse. I should have given up, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

Being in love with a ghost didn’t change the fact that I needed to let off some steam.

When we finally reached the bus, there was already a smoke circle going. It was my turn to hit the joint as Merle, our driver, started it up and got moving.

When we got to Vegas a few hours later, we hit a club. He guys were still amped, despite all the weed that we smoked.

Honestly, I didn’t care if I got into a fight or found someone to fuck. All this energy had to go somewhere.

At the bar, it didn’t take long for a tall, leggy brunette wearing clothes too inappropriate for the weather to approach me.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” She asked me, her too-red lips pulled into a seductive smile. I smiled back.

“Tequila. You?” I asked, already waving down the bartender. She flicked her eyes over to him.

“A Long Island, please.”

“What’s your name?” I asked her. She leaned in to whisper in my ear, her hand already on my thigh.

“Faith.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Faith.”

I finished my tequila and put my hands on her hips. I knew what she wanted, and she knew what I wanted. Sex, for all its guts and glory, wasn’t that complicated.

By the next round, she was in my lap, what little of her skirt there was, pushed up as high as it would go. Her tongue was shoved down my throat, and she was trying hard to bury her hand in my pants.

I slapped some cash onto the bar and lifted her up, lighting a cigarette and leading her through the crowd of dancers. I had no idea where the rest of the guys were and it really didn’t matter.

I came for one reason, and I was about to get it.

In the men’s room, I shoved her into a stall and pushed her up against the wall. She grinned and as I attacked her neck, started undoing my jeans. I pushed her skirt up further, so now it was practically over her stomach instead of her legs, and shoved two fingers inside of her.

She hadn’t come sniffing around for slow and gentle. She wanted rough and dirty and I was just the guy to give it to her.

Without much preamble, I turned her around, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back. At the same time, I rolled a condom on and shoved myself inside her, going at it fast.

My blood was boiling. I needed this. My brain knew it, my body knew it, and they both responded with that deep carnal instinct. Sex was sex was sex. Didn’t matter where or how, as long as it happened.

Her moans filled my ears, and I did my best to stay in the present, especially when she pushed me back and turned around, just so she could get on her knees. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, not nearly drunk enough to completely block out thoughts of Laurel.

I pulled Faith back up and lifted her, wrapping her legs around my waist and pushing up inside her again. Her mouth clamped over mine as I pounded my hips into hers.

My orgasm built up without warning. I growled as I came and her screams filled my ears, echoing off the tile and metal of the room. I pulled out and dropped her at the same time, resting my arm on the wall above my head as I caught my breath.

“Well, that was…” she started as she straightened out her clothes. “You okay?”

I flushed the condom and zipped up. She tried to meet my eyes, but I just lit a cigarette and opened the door.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, leaving her to find her way out.

I didn’t bother finding the guys. I purchased a bottle of tequila from the bar and brought it out with me to the bus. Physically, I felt marginally better.

A dirty brawl in a dirty bathroom with a stranger was always an easy fix for the physical needs, but up until now, I hadn’t realized how empty it left me feeling afterwards.

I didn’t feel like I cheated on Laurel, but I definitely hadn’t done her memory any justice.

I felt like shit and I knew the problem wasn’t going to go away, and if I didn’t find a way to deal with it and move on, it was going to be a long three months.

Damn it, Laurel, I thought as I cracked the seal on the bottle. Where are you?

I knew the answer wasn’t at the bottom, and I knew that I would probably never get one, but for now, it seemed as good an idea as any.

Either way, it was the only one I had, and I was going to stick to it until a better one presented itself.

However long it took.