Page 22 of Closer

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Isit by the bar anddown another shot of patron. Weddings suck balls. Correction, weddings suck balls when you’re in love with the bride. Usually I love weddings, the booze, the cake, the women. This wedding though? It was perfect. A goddam fucking fairy tale in the French Riviera. No paps, no reporters, no helicopter hovering overhead. Just stars and romance and lovey-dovey shit enough to make me want to puke. Or maybe that’s thanks to the half bottle of patron I’d consumed since sitting at this very bar.

The hauntingly sorrowful sounds of AFG’s cello float all around me. Cutting, eviscerating, flaying me open, and tormenting me as I throw back shot after shot of liquor. I am Bromios. Roaring, boisterous, and drunk. No matter how much I consume tonight, it won’t be enough.Never enough.

Shouldn’t music tame the savage beast? Here, hers was eating me alive, engulfing me as if it were fire, and razing my pain to ruin. I wasn’t lying before when I said she was good. She’s fucking incredible, and I might even be able to enjoy it had she not been playing a Muse song.Fucking Muse. Who gave her this set list? I know it wasn’t Coop, ’cause he hates Muse as much as Ali and I do. Still, everything else she’s played tonight has been rock fucking solid. She hasn’t lifted her gaze once. She isn’t checking out the dance floor or seeing which celebrity she can spot next. Her eyes are closed, her face is expressive as hell, and she’s here for the music and the music alone—though I’m sure the hefty pay cheque Coop is likely giving her is an added bonus.

“Dude, there you are,” Zed says, as he sits his arse down on the stool beside me and slaps a hand over my shoulder.

“I haven’t moved all fucking night, Zed.” I salute him with a shot, throwing back the liquid and slamming my glass down on the bar. “Lucky you found me.”

“How you holding up?”

“The woman I love just married my fucking bandmate. How the fuck do you think I’m holding up, cunt rag?”

He nods emphatically. “You’re right, that was a stupid question.”

“Aren’t they always with you?”

“Hey, I resent that, man.”

I raise my shot glass and indicate to the barkeep for another. The bastard hardly speaks a word of English.Fucking France. Who gets married in France, anyway? Oh yeah, my arsehole bandmate. That’s who. The waiter looks like a douche. I don’t know that it’s any one thing in particular that I loathe about him, or if it’s just that he can’t seem to fill my glass quick enough, but I wanna kick his arse.

And where the fuck is Ash? When we started this band, it was always Zed and Coop. They were inseparable, they were brothers, and surprise, surprise, I was the third wheel. But when Ash came along, we gained a bass player, but I gained a brother. I didn’t have to be the third wheel anymore, until Coop and I fell in love with the same woman that is. Ash’s supposed to be keeping tabs on me tonight, though I guess it’s lucky he’s not. It means I can drink as much as I want to. And speaking of, I grab Zed’s drink and down the lot in one go. Wincing when Idon’tfeel the bitter afterburn of alcohol.

“Jesus, fuck! What is that?”

“Water,” he deadpans.

“Why the hell are you drinking water?”

Zed shrugs. “I haven’t had my daily quota.”

“Christ. Dude, could you just be a normal fucking rock star for once? Order a goddam real drink.” I swivel in my seat when I hear the first strains of “Give Me Love”. “Oh, fuck me! Ed Sheeran now, really?”

Several of the guests turn in my direction and glare, including Coop’s mum, who’s always been a snooty bitch. Angry French Girl doesn’t miss a beat. She doesn’t even know I’m here. Story of my fucking life. But the man of the hour notices. He kisses his beautiful bride on the cheek and stands from the table, pushing back his chair. Ali grabs his arm, but he leans in and whispers something in her ear and she lets go.

“Okay, come on.” Zed grabs a fistful of my tux, hefting me off my seat. My legs threaten to go out from under me, but I hold firm. Or maybe I’m just as pathetic as a kitten held by the scruff of the neck. Either way, I stay upright so ... winning.

Coop comes up behind me. I know it’s him without looking because I’d know that cocky arsehole anywhere. There’s a magic that happens when you play music with another gifted musician. I might hate his fucking guts, but I could pick his energy out in a crowd full of rock stars. Course, he and I fucked his lovely wife together for a series of months on the road, so just like Ali’s, I’m pretty sure I’d know his scent anywhere too.

“Hey, man, I was just trying to get him to leave the bar,” Zed says to Cooper.

“It’s okay, why don’t you let me talk to him?”

“Yeah, why don’t you let Coop clean up his own goddam mess, Zed?”

A beat later, Cooper sits in the stool that Zed had occupied just moments ago. He orders in French.When the fuck did this arsehole learn French? The douche canoe bartender gives Cooper a hesitant look but begins making the order. He slides one in front of Ryan and sets the other before me. I gulp it down in one long swallow. It spills all over my tux, but I don’t care.

“Congratulations,” I say, slamming my empty glass down on the bar.

“I know this is hard for you—”

“Hard? You don’t know the meaning of hard, Ryan. You’ve had every goddam thing you wanted handed to you from the day you were born.”

“I know you like to think that, because it makes it easier for you to hate me, but I had to work at a lot of things in my life. Maybe I had a better start than you, but I lost her once too. I know what that feels like.”

“Only, now your ring is on her finger, and I’ll never have her again.”

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