15
Adam
It was difficult to see where I was going in the snow.
I had no idea which direction I was facing. Eventually, I stumbled onto a busier street and hailed a taxi.
I stepped into the car and gave the address of the hotel to the driver, where I was meeting the band.
I sat back and looked up at the roof of the car, thinking what the hell I’d just gotten myself into when I was at Pacey’s.
First the boner from wrestling him, then almost locking lips with my ex-best friend.
I couldn’t kiss him, he was my bro. But why the fuck did I feel so tempted to?
And why did I feel bad for leaving his place so abruptly without saying goodbye?
I thought back to the moment on the couch when his face was inches away from mine. His lips looked plump. I couldn’t believe that I almost planted mine on them.
It must have been my hangover that was making me act this crazy.
I wasn’t fucking gay, I knew that. All those girls I’ve slept with in the past proved I wasn’t. Sure, I’d always loved the attention I got from guys. Sometimes I even went as far as teasing them and playing hard to get. But I’d always peace out before things got too weird. I loved the boost for my ego.
But why was I doing it to Pacey?
I needed to cut it out because I wasn’t going to play with his heart and lead him on like that, he was the nicest guy I knew.
I pulled out a phone and opened up my messages to type something to him.
Hey Pace, turns out I’m busy Thursday—scratch that.
Yo Pace, I can’t make it to your show, sorry—the apology was too much.
Pacey, I won’t be able to go—why was this so hard?
After many attempts, I couldn’t seem to find the right words to tell him that I couldn’t go to his concert.
I didn’t want him to go through the trouble of getting me the ticket and telling his parents that I’d be there, just to have me not show up.
While glued to the screen, I hadn’t noticed that the taxi had stopped in front of my hotel. I deleted whatever I was typing to Pacey, then I thanked and paid the cab driver.
When I looked outside, I noticed a swarm of paparazzi standing outside the hotel.
They must have found out where I was staying and they were waiting to get a photo of me. A cameraman saw me in the taxi, and he shouted something. Everyone turned and faced me.
The windows weren’t tinted like the cars I usually rode in.
Soon, there were people circling the car, pointing their cameras at my face. The bright flash blinded my eyes and made my hangover ten times worse.
I pulled my hat over my eyes and slid down into my seat.
I regretted leaving Pacey’s. Compared to this, his house was a haven. I’d felt so at ease while I was there and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that way.
Even walking with him outside on the empty beach was something I hadn’t done in so long. It wasn’t because I didn’t have time, it was because I couldn’t without getting recognized by someone.
“Is there a back door you can drop me off at?” I asked the taxi driver, poking my head between the two front seats, and pulling my cap lower onto my eyes.
“I’m not sure. But I can try to find one,” he said.
He put the car in gear and slowly inched forward.
The paparazzi barely moved out of the way. Their cameras stuck to the windows like molasses.
My palms were sweaty and I wiped them on my jeans. I leaned my head against the back of the headrest of the passenger’s seat.
I had many bad experiences with paparazzi.
They were aggressive as fuck and would find me no matter how discreet I was. Whenever I encountered one, they’d ask me things that were none of their fucking business. They were the scum of the earth. People who needed real jobs rather than being parasites who sell my photos for money.
We drove around the back of the hotel. There was a door propped open with a milk crate. A chef in uniform was smoking a cigarette outside.
I rolled down the window.
“Hey, there’s a bunch of photographers waiting for me in the front. Is there any way you can let me in this door?”
“Yeah, sure thing mate. I was wondering who they were stalking,” he said in a British accent. “Come in quick.”
He opened the door for me, and I quickly got out and rushed in, hearing the footsteps of the paparazzi close by.
“Thanks,” I said to the chef.
“No worries, I’ve worked here long enough to know how crazy it gets around here when the photographers show up.” He said, ashing his cigarette and removed the milk crate.
The door slammed shut.
We were inside the kitchen of the hotel. Chefs and line cooks were busy preparing lunch service. Their heads were down and didn’t even notice that I’d come in.
I made my way out of the kitchen and headed to the elevators.
I went up to the twenty-fifth floor where Simon and my mom had rented out a meeting room.
When I walked in, everyone was already there—my mom, Simon, and the guys in the band.
Gray had a scowl on his face. I figured that it must have been from the fight between us last night when I defended Pacey.
My mom, with her arms crossed, did not look pleased. Simon didn’t look me in the eye. The energy of the room was sour.
I closed the door behind me gently, and sat down on one of the black leather chairs, sliding down onto it.
We were in a boardroom that had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out at the city. The snow covered the tops of the building and the sky was still overcast like the mood of the room.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Simon said, breaking the silence in the room.
I avoided his eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any kind of reaction out of me.
“Where were you last night?” Simon asked.
“I went to a friend’s after the show,” I said.
“And did you tell anyone that you did?” He persisted.
“Why should I? I’m a grown ass man.”
“Then maybe you should act like one and have some responsibility.”
I looked at my mom, it was obvious whose side she was on.
“Who are you to tell me what to do? You are not my step-dad,” I said.
My mom finally said something. “Watch your mouth, Adam. I did not raise you like this.”
“Right, because you didn’t raise me at all,” I blurted.
She shot me the biggest death stare.
“Tell us where you were last night,” she demanded.
“I was at some girl’s place.” I lied.
“And so why didn’t you pick up your phone?” Mom asked.
“Because I wanted a break for once, I wanted a day for myself.”
“That’s awfully selfish of you,” Gray chimed in. “It’s a band, we’re supposed to be a team.”
I was familiar with what was going on. I was being ganged up on, and it didn’t feel good at all.
Though Keaton and Carson didn’t say a word nor make eye contact, I knew where they stood.
My mom used to do this when I was younger with her ex-boyfriends. It was always two against one, and now it was five versus one.
When I looked at her, I saw the same disappointment in her eyes as I did her whole life. I was the reason why we were poor growing up. I was the reason why my dad left.
I looked at my mom and I thought of memory I had when I was a teenager.
We were in our trashed one-bedroom apartment.
I had come home from school asking if she had any money so I could afford to go to prom. She was coming out of the bathroom and she’d been in there for a good half hour. I knew it was right after she’d injected herself with heroin.
It was a bad time to ask, and I should’ve expected the answer was going to be no. I got the extended version. It was a rant telling me how much I disappointed her, she shamed me for needing money that she didn’t have.
I brought myself back to the present.
I looked at my mom again. Though she looked sober, she had a different addiction now. It was an addiction to money. I was the source for what she wanted.
I hated how she only cared about me now that I could be used to get what she wanted. I hated how Simon did the same. I hated how every single member of my band was replaceable. But, the force of the five of them were strong against me.
I felt cornered.
Like if I took one more step back, I’d plummet twenty-five stories down onto the concrete floor. Then, the paparazzi would snap photos of my lifeless body.
I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that was making me this paranoid and anxious, or if it was the reality of the situation. It felt somewhere in between. I was sick of all the pressure, sick of being torn in so many directions.
I closed my eyes and imagined Pacey there in the room, with his hand on my back, guiding me through this.
I imagined being back in his place. The serenity of the cool beach breeze, his dog Cadence’s gentle licks on my nose, Pacey’s reassuring smile.
Just moments ago, I was the happiest I’d been in a long time. Now, it was back to all this stress and anxiety that made me want to punch a wall. But that would just prove to them that I was the out of control monster that they were painting me to be.
“Are we done here?” I asked.
Everyone looked around, waiting for someone to chime in. But no one did, so I stood up and left the room. I headed back to my hotel room.
As I was heading to the elevator, I heard the meeting room door open behind me. My mom’s heels clicked against the floor.
“Adam,” she said.
I pressed the elevator button.
She called my name again.
I turned around and looked her in the eyes. Her expression was softer.
“I love you, son,” she reached down to hold my hands, and I softened up and let her.
She ran her hand on the watch she’d given me last night after the show.
“Don’t be disrespectful to Simon,” she said. “He created you.”
Then, she placed a hand on my neck, her long nails grazed my skin, and she pulled me down for a kiss on the forehead.
I withdrew from her hold. The doors opened and I stepped into the gold accented elevator. I could feel her eyes follow me until the doors finally closed. Finally, silence.
I went into my hotel room. Immediately, I called Pacey, waiting for him to pick up.
“Hello?” He said, in his soft and familiar voice.
“Hey, sorry I left so abruptly earlier. I had to rush to…an important meeting with the band.”
“No worries, I understand.”
“I just want to confirm with you that I’m planning to go to your show. I’d love to see you perform.”
“Sure thing, man,” he said casually.
There was running water in the background and it sounded like he was doing the dishes.
“Thanks,” I said, throwing my aching body on to the couch.
“You alright?” He asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You sound off, did something happen?”
“No, just a bit stressed from the meeting,” I said, closing my eyes to pretend like he was in the room with me.
“Oh, well, try not to get too caught up in it.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“I’ll message you to let you know the details of the show.”
“Okay, I’m looking forward to it.”
I ended the call and held my phone against my chest.