Page 55 of Game Winner
To them. And maybe in some ways, to discovering myself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BAX
The Hard and Heavy Live show’s logo hangs on stage, bright yellow with a warming glow. Dozens of people mill around backstage and the din in the front of the house increases as the audience takes their seats.
Anger, annoyance, and the feigned indifferent politeness Layne and I are coexisting in, tempers my excitement at being here. Soren, Tyler, and I didn’t fly out with my bandmates, and we’re not staying at the same hotel, so the first time I saw the band was at soundcheck a little while ago.
Today, I guess Layne and I are going to do what we’ve done for the last month. Show up, be polite to each other, mainly speak to Gavin and Everett, play music, and leave. No jokes, or stories, or hugs, or fun.
We can’t maintain this forever. Something has to give, but what? And who?
The first band runs onstage. Cracking open my bottle of water, I find an unobtrusive corner to watch their set. And if it keeps me away from Layne, all the better.
“There you are.” Clad in black jeans and a black tee that hugs his muscles, Everett hustles my way. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sure.” I push away from my seat on an empty crate. “What’s going on?”
He grabs my forearm, tugging me down the hall to the dressing room. “Social media comments from fans who’ve seen our shows since the blowup between you and Layne have said our performances seem more robotic, that there’s less chemistry and enthusiasm. They’re right.”
I shrug because I don’t know what to say. Of course our chemistry and enthusiasm is off.
He opens the door and urges me in ahead of him. “Over the last month, Gav and I have hoped you two would work things out, but that didn’t happen. Then, we hoped you’d see each other at sound check today and realize things need to change. That didn’t happen either. We’re about to be seen by Hard and Heavy Live’s massive audience. So you and Layne need to get it together.Now.”
Sitting on the end of the couch, Gavin points to a stoic Layne staring at his reflection the mirror. “Exactly. You need to resolve this or we’re gonna lose our shot.”
I stand in front of Layne, angry and hurt, flummoxed over the things he said, but beneath it all, even though I’m furious and we haven’t really spoken in weeks, is a undercurrent of concern and caring for my friend.
His eyes sparking fire, Layne has a defiant jut to his chin. Legs splayed, and hands balled into fists at his sides, he’s ready to fight.
We stare at each other. And so many memories, good and bad, happy and frustrating, flash through my mind. I open my mouth, not sure where to begin.
His breath hitches and he collapses, falling into himself. His shoulders round forward as he wraps his arms around himself. Like water dousing a fire, the fight snuffs out of him. Watery eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
Sadness and heartbreak hang heavy in his words.
Seeing Layne so upset, my anger deflates. I rush over, pulling him into a hug. “Me too.”
He clings to me, limbs shaking, repeating that he’s sorry.
Gavin and Everett join us, surrounding Layne with comfort.
“There’s a chemistry between us. We can’t replicate it,” Layne says, sniffling, as he leans back. “I don’t want you to leave the band.” He grabs my hand, holding so tight my fingers tingle from the lack of blood flow. “I don’t want to do this without you.” He turns his gaze to Gavin and Everett. “Any of you.”
“I want this to work. We’ve spent years working towards this, and I believe in us.” I squeeze his hand in a sort of reminder of our shared history. Our brotherhood. “You matter to me. But I have Soren and Ty now too. And I need you to be okay with that. With them.”
Layne nods, then ducks his head. “I was jealous.”
“Jealous? Why?” I can’t hide my surprise. In all the years Layne and I have been friends, there has never been jealousy around guys we’ve dated.
“I’ve had you right there with me since we were eight years old. And then, suddenly, I didn’t anymore. I was going through my own drama and it colored the way I viewed everything else.”
I wish I’d realized realized what was happening. I hate that he felt left out or like he didn’t matter anymore. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I see how happy you are with them. The way they look at you.” He pulls me into a hug, and the pressure from the last several weeks eases. “I’m really happy for you, Bax. I mean it.”
“Thanks.” Not wanting to let go, I hold on to my friend until he pushes out of my arms.
