Page 169 of Hi-Voltage
“Fuck off,” T-yan said. “Wrong person to apologize to. If you got nothing else to say, I’m gonna go.”
“Can I ask a question first?” Luka dared to ask.
“Really?”
Luka chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then asked anyway, "Did you ask Maxine out yet?”
“Fucking hell. I hate everyone in my life.Yes,I did, and it was awful.”
Luka felt his eyebrows raise. “How so? Did she say no?”
“She said yes, then laughed in my face because her friend saw a selfie I’d sent her on her phone and told her who I was likeeight months ago. She wanted to see how long I’d try to keep the act up.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, she might be the perfect woman. Now, fix your own relationship; toughen up, or whatever. Treat my friend better or I’ll fly to fucking Maine or wherever shit-hole you live in andkick your ass," T-yan threatened then hung up before Luka could reply.
Hikaru
Check your mail
Luka shot out of his chair on break from his shift, seeing the text from Reno. He’d already planned on texting Reno first, but had typed up over a dozen messages, and then deleted them over the last few days. He felt pathetic letting it linger that long after T-yan’s call and every hour that passed his anxiety over what to say got worse. But nothing sounded sincere enough, nothing sounded kind enough, and nothing felt like it was going to be the correct way to ask Reno to work with him to make things right again.
It was humiliating trying to figure out what he should even to say just for Reno to beat him to the punch.
Not that ‘check your mail’ was much of an apology.
He took the stairs two at a time and rushed to the mailbox. Nestled between grocery coupons and credit card offers, a small yellow bubble mailer stood out, clearly having come from England, via DHL overnight delivery, addressed to Luka.
He hurried to his room to open it, dumping the junk mail on the coffee table on his way. He carefully tore the envelope open, and when he tipped the contents into his hand, a key slid out.
Luka pressed it into his palm, the teeth on it so achingly familiar he didn’t need to look to see what it belonged to. It fit the lock to Reno’s door.
He pulled the piece of paper from the envelope next. All it said was:
PLEASE COME HOME- ?
Luka sank onto his bed, the hand holding the key pressed to his chest. He ran his thumb over Hikaru’s name, his perfect, cramped handwriting.
“Luka?” A knock came from his door and August asked, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah." He struggled to find his voice. “Come in.”
They did, holding their phone out for Luka to take. “You need to see this.”
“I don’t want to see anything online, you know this.”
“Please, just this once. Don’t be so thick-skulled.”
Luka took the phone and pressed play on the video.
“We live in a different age now," Reno said, and god, he looked so beautiful it knocked the wind out of Luka. The key in his hand bit into his palm. “Even from when I originally signed to Sterling Records to now, the political climate is completely different. So much can happen in ten or so years.”
The video zoomed out enough to show the talk show host and Luka realized the video was a livestream, recorded in front of a studio audience. It looked like he’d missed the first ten minutes or so of the program.
The man interviewing, who looked vaguely familiar to Luka, which probably meant he was famous for television, said, “It has been an intense thirteen years for you and Voltage. Your success is nothing to scoff at! You’ve consistently dominated the top of the charts, even in categories outside of metal, which hasn’t been seen much before. In recent years, we’ve seen several other metal bands follow suit, gaining popularity with a wider audience. How does that make you feel? There’s got to be a level of competition there, right?”
“No, they are my friends. I want us all to do well. Again, things have changed. While the industry may want to pit us against each other, at the end of the day those are my peers.Their success doesn’t take away from mine; we are all making music from our hearts.”
