Mason
The shows are good. That’s what’s getting me through. That and the way the crowd reacts every time we play some of our new songs. People seem to love “Perfect.” It’s probably because out of everything, that’s the one song I play with everything I can. We did a cool thing during the last show—I talked the guys into letting me play it solo on the piano. My piano playing isn’t the best, but the melody is simple enough. I had chicks in tears by the time I was done.
I think about her every time I play it. We’ve been on the road for a month now. Kevin started us out with this folk rock band called the Tenenbaum Revival. They have a lot of radio hits right now, and I really dig their sound. They’re from Denver, and the lead singer is married to the bass player. I envy their lives, the way they get to be together. It’s easy when your paths are the same, I guess.
I called Avery the night before our first show. She didn’t answer, but I figured she was busy with her shift. But she never called back. I sent a few texts, and at first she’d respond—simple things like smiley faces and “happy for you” notes. But I quit sending things a couple weeks ago. Maybe this time apart has made her start to think that everything was a huge mistake. If she wants to forget me, maybe I should let her.
I miss Max. I found a book at this little trading post in Utah. It was all about rocks from other planets. He’d love it—probably memorize it. I bought it with the intention of sending it to him, but every night I just flip through the pages and think about him and Avery, wondering if she’s working or getting to tuck him in. I wonder if that girl in the playground ever became Max’s friend.
“Mace, we need to do sound check in thirty. You know where Ben is?” Matt asks, popping his head in the green room.
“Probably giving his paycheck to a hooker,” I say, causing Matt to chuckle. “I’ll go look for him in a few.”
We’re in Reno tonight. Probably the smallest show we’ve played. Kevin wasn’t lying, this tour is different, and I really believe there is a recording deal waiting for us at the end of this. We have a couple weeks left before Kevin decides if he wants to tack us on to some more shows.
Ben has behaved, for the most part. Only once or twice did I have to drag his ass to the bus out of some nightclub or bar. He’s had a few flings, probably five or six different girls, but so far he’s kept them out of the bus. I think if we weren’t bunking with the other band, it would be a different story.
I walk out to the lot, and notice a few groupies hanging out over on the other side of a fence where the busses are all lined up. During our first few shows, the women were always hanging around to see Ryan, the lead singer in the Tenenbaums. But they’ve started screaming for me when I walk out, too. It feels pretty surreal, and there have been some pretty tempting offers, not gonna lie. But I keep waiting for that hint of reddish blonde hair in the crowd. I keep waiting to feel something—a pull, I don’t know, something.
The girls scream as I climb into the bus, and I wave once just to show them I appreciate them—and I do. I hope they want more of our songs, want to buy our albums, and come see our shows over and over. But I don’t want to sleep with them. I guess maybe after a while I’ll get over that, and then maybe I’ll want that, too.
“Ben, get your ass up! We tune in twenty!” I say, kicking at the bathroom door, hearing him sniffle and move around inside.
“Hang on,” he says, and I hear the sink for a few seconds before the door finally pops open. Ben’s eyes are wild, and he keeps rubbing his arm along his nose; I know the second I see him he’s fucked up. He’s been like this before. It’s been a while, and he’s never completely fallen into full-on addict, but he’s dabbled—usually when some stripper hooks him up, or he shacks up with the wrong girl. I’m sure that’s the case tonight.
“Fuuuuuck, dude? What did you do!” I say going into the bathroom to search for what I know is there. There’s a small bit of powder left on the sink counter, so I grab a handful of toilet paper, wet it and wipe everything clean.
“I’m fine man, really. Just a little hit,” he says, his arms twitchy and his whole fucking body keeps jumping around. He sits on one of the benches in the living room area and looks at me, his whole foot bouncing up and down. “I might have overdone it, maybe a little.”
“You think so?” I yell, leaning back against the other bench seat, pulling my hands to my temples and rubbing. “You think you can play through this?”
“Yeah, I’ll be good,” he says, edgy as shit. I shake my head, and pull the blind back to look out the window; just making sure we’re really alone. The last thing I need is someone walking in on this. My phone buzzes once, and I know it’s Matt or Josh wondering where the hell we are.
“Look, I’ll just tell them you’re not ready yet for tune. We can do that without you. But fucking get it together,” I say, watching him stand and look around the bus, like he’s searching for something.
“I just need my wallet. Shit, I think that bitch took my wallet,” he says, heading to the back of the bus to check the bed area. My phone buzzes again, so I pull it out to let Matt and Josh know what’s up. When I see an unknown number, I shove it back into my pocket, but the second I do, it buzzes again.
I swipe the string of messages open, half expecting to see spam or crazy fan messages from some chick who probably found my number.
It’s Claire. Mason, you need to call me. Now!
Mason, R U there?
Mason, 911 – it’s an emergency!!!
Claire—the only reason Claire would have my number is Avery, and now I’m just as twitchy as Ben. My fingers can hardly dial, but I manage to hit the return call button. I’m pacing as I wait through the rings, and Ben is storming around me, tossing cushions over and opening and shutting drawers. I shove my finger in my ear so I can listen to the other end of the line.
“Mason, oh thank god!” she says, and I feel my heart sink to my feet, knowing that whatever she’s going to say, it’s going to be the worst news of my life.
“What’s wrong, Claire. Is it Avery? Is she all right?” I say, forgetting where I am, and stepping off the bus. The screaming starts the second I come outside, but I can’t handle Ben’s jumpiness in the bus, so I walk around to the other side to muffle the sound as best as I can.
“It’s not Avery. It’s Ray. He…Ray passed away, Mason,” she says, and just like that, everything around me turns bright white and my body loses all feeling. I sit down on the pavement, and push my head between my knees, my hand cupping the back of my head, and I’m rocking—like I’m trying to rock away everything she just said.
“Mason, are you there?” her voice sounds like she’s talking through a tin can, so far away.
“I…” I can’t catch my breath, and I start to sob hard, my chest convulsing and my mouth gasping, just trying to take in air. Claire senses my break down, and she talks softly.
“Mason, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I had to call you and tell you, and that it had to be me, and it had to be now. I know you’re probably in the middle of stuff. But it’s Max,” she says, and I don’t know that I can handle it—handle more. My eyes are wide and staring at the pattern of parking lines that stretch hundreds of feet in front of me, drifting in and out of focus until the white and black bleed together into a giant block of gray.
“Max is missing. He overheard Avery talking to one of her aunts, and she hadn’t had a chance to explain things to him yet. When she went up to his room, he was gone. She’s looking everywhere, Mason. Your mom is looking, too. We shut Dusty’s down for the day. Your mom said I should call you,” she says, and then I listen for several seconds to the silence that follows. Somehow, I get back to my feet, push down the vomit that is threatening to come, and start pacing again.
“Where have you looked?” I ask, closing my eyes and flashing through a million visions—Ray’s face, the first time he put me on stage, the way he looked when he gave me the guitar, Max, Avery. In the last two months I’ve built this file of memories, and it’s all wrapped up in the Abbot family—they’re my family.
“We’ve looked everywhere, Mason. We went to his booth at Dusty’s, tore apart the kitchen, searched every nook of the damned house,” she says, and something triggers me.
“School. You have to go to his school, Claire!” I yell, walking back into the bus now. Ben seems to have found his wallet, and he’s sitting on the edge of a sofa watching some show play loudly on the TV. I walk up to it and flip the switch to turn it off. He starts to protest, and I shove him back into his seat.
“There’s a tunnel, in the playground. It’s Max’s safe place. He has to be there, Claire. He has to be,” I say, making a stern face at Ben when he starts to argue with me again.
“Okay, I’ll go look right now. I’ll call you back,” she says, hanging up. I stare at my phone and manage to bring enough sense to my head to save her number as a contact. I shove the phone in my pocket and sit back on the sofa to think.
“What the fuck, man?” Ben says. I’m not even remotely close to being in the mood to deal with him, so I just point at him to stay put and walk out of the bus. It doesn’t work though, and he’s quick to follow me.
“Who was that? Fuckin’ Birdie? What, she want you to blow off the tour? Come back and be her bitch boy?” he can barely finish his last sentence before my fist lands at his jaw. As much crazy crap that I’ve done, I haven’t really been in a ton of fights, and the crunch of his bone against my knuckles stings; I have to shake my hand just to get feeling back in it. But Ben is so goddamned high, he’s right back in my face, shoving me until my feet lose their balance and I stumble into the side of the bus.
I shove him back, adrenaline fueling my entire body; I keep pushing at his chest until he trips onto the ground again. “You say one more word about her, and I swear I will end you,” I say, my knee weighing into his chest. He spits to the side, and it’s bloody.
“She’s just being selfish,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh at how absolutely wrong he is. I walk away from him, back to the bus, and climb inside, slamming the door behind me. Seconds later, it swings open, and I clench my fist, ready to go another round, but I soften when I realize its Matt.
“Josh is outside, cleaning him up,” he says, his opinion of Ben obvious in the face he’s making. Of the three of us, Matt is the one who has always had the least amount of tolerance for Ben. “What’d he do to earn that?”
“Just Ben being Ben,” I say, chewing at my tongue, forcing myself not to say anything more that I might regret. I sit back down and lower my head into my hands. I have to think—process everything. I’m trying to figure out my next move, when my phone rings and I answer quickly.
“Yeah,” I say, and I can already hear familiar voices in the background.
“It’s Claire. You were right, Mason. We found him. Oh my god,” she’s crying now, hard. “How did you know?”
“I just knew,” I say, my heart finally beating for the first time since I heard Claire’s news. “What…I mean, how…I…”
I don’t even know what to ask her next or how to move forward. All I know is that I’m no longer where I need to be, and I’m looking at Matt, square in the eyes, and I know he knows too.
“It was fast, Mason. With Ray? It was fast, in his sleep. He didn’t feel a thing,” she says, I know trying to sooth the burn of the guilt that is absolutely choking me now. “It was a heart attack. He ate like shit, and he drank a lot—probably more than he should.”
“It’s not fair,” is all I can say, and I’m crying again. I push the palm of my hand deep into my eyes, trying to force myself to get a grip; I take a deep breath and look at Matt. “He was a good man, and I wasn’t there. And it’s not fucking fair, Claire!”
“I know it’s not, Mason. But there’s nothing you can do…nothing you could have done,” she says, and I don’t know that that’s the case, but I appreciate her saying it anyhow.
“When…I mean, is there…a service?” I ask, not even sure how these things work.
“It just happened—this morning. I don’t know any details yet. Avery’s…she’s working through it. Probably something this weekend. We’ll make sure you know, though—I’ll call you, or your mom will,” she says, and I can’t help but notice that it’s not Avery, which only makes my tears come faster.
“Thanks, Claire. Hey, call me if there’s anything…” I start, but I know there’s nothing I can do. I’m four hundred miles away, and my foundation is crumbling.
“I will,” she says, and then she’s gone. I just sit there and stare into Matt’s eyes, talking without really talking, for minutes.
“There will be other bands,” he says finally. I don’t know what to say back to him, so I just blink and breathe through my nose slowly, trying to make sense of everything. “You need to go. And I’m fine with that. And Josh will be fine with that. And Ben—whatever. There will be other bands. And there are other drummers. And this isn’t everything.”
My body is tingling everywhere, and I swear if anyone walked into this situation right now, they would think that I’m the one who’s high as a kite.
“If I leave, they’ll drop us—drop everything,” I say, my insides squeezing at the fork in my road. Both paths are hard—there’s nothing easy left, not that this was ever easy.
“Like I said, there will be other bands,” he repeats, and I look down, finally understanding what he’s trying to say. Matt always knew that we’d never be able to stick to this together for long. I think we all knew Ben would probably ruin us first—the label can only handle so much. We’d replace him, or they’d decide to take me solo—put me with a band they’re used to, that they use for lots of singers. And I know that’s probably closest to the truth. The songs are all mine—but I feel beholden to Josh and Matt…and for some reason to Ben.
“There will be other bands,” I repeat, nodding up and down, convincing myself.
“Yep,” he says, smiling softly to show me he understands.
There will be other bands.