Ten years ago their first album had gone platinum. As a band, as a group, they’d been together since barely in their teens. They were besties. Sacrificing for each other. At sixteen they had sliced their palms and bonded through blood. It mattered. But it was barely strong enough to combat success. It didn’t survive failure. The split after the second, spectacularly unsuccessful album, was messy. The five went their separate ways.
Peter went behind the scenes. I left the business entirely. Jacob, as far as I knew, was still riding the ever-ebbing wave of that first album. Reina platformed herself into a different kind of success. And then there was Sean. The only one of us to make it at what we all dreamed of as kids. Sean was a rock star.
Peter marked the date on the calendar board in the kitchen then called up for his son to come down to dinner. He’d call Annie, his ex-wife, and see if she could take Macon for a few weeks. Peter and Annie still had a good relationship. Including sleeping together. Occasionally. When they weren’t seeing other people.
Macon would love it. Impulsive, flighty, and so very spoiled, Annie was more like a big sister to her six-year-old son. Annie wasn’t good with responsibility. She came from money. She lived in one of the family homes and was taken care of by staff. In reality it would be her assistant, Darcy, seeing to Macon.
Peter put the invitation in the action folder in his home office. If someone had asked him about the band even a few hours ago he would have said he had put that all behind him. He rarely thought about those days. Funny how hard it was to let go of the past.
Reina sat at her desk. The wall of windows behind showcased a beautiful view of an even more beautiful day. She barely noticed. She barely noticed anything anymore. She’d blame it on Jack leaving but the truth was it was the reason Jack left. He’d mailed his Dear John letter. Like through the actual fucking post. “If you’ve realized I have gone by the time you get this we’ll be laughing together on a beach. I love you, Reina. But I also love myself. At least a little. Too much to keep doing this.”
She had crumpled the brief missive in her fist. Then she’d smoothed it out. Hell, she’d ironed it. She’d been thinking of framing it and putting it on her desk as a reminder. Of something. When she got the invitation, also by post, it triggered memories, flashbacks, of such intense feeling Reina gasped out loud. Maybe she’d go to the meeting. Just to see who showed up.
Jacob left the club and went to his hotel. Three stars. Better than most of the places he lay his head but still so much the same. Why am I still doing this? He wondered. What was he chasing? Or running from. He walked through the lobby and the pretty young man at reception called for his attention. Jacob walked over and was handed a letter. It was postmarked two weeks ago.
Walking to the elevators Jacob opened the letter. The invitation.
His fingers started to tingle as he was hit by a strong emotion he could not identify. By the time he got to his room his hands were shaking and his breath coming fast. This was it. He could feel it. He just couldn’t parse how he felt about it.
It’s crowded. Hot. Humid as fuck. And I am just trying to get inside the boarding house. There is a hot dog vender on the street in front of the building. Vinnie. He’s here every weekend. Is it Thursday already? Despite, or because, it is late there’s a line. But when Vinnie spots me he makes up a dog and hands it off to pass to me. Unfortunately, he passes it to Rudolf. Detective Rudolf. The kind of cop that uses the badge to be a criminal and an asshole. Some days I think the asshole part is worse.
The dog disappears for more seconds than it would take to pass it to me, and I know I am not eating it. Not that I would eat it anyway. But at least I would pretend. Vinnie, realizing what is about to happen, catches my eye. He then shakes his head and turns back to work.
Rudolf hands over the dog with a smirk. I take it and manage to fumble the fully loaded mess onto the front of his suspiciously expensive button down. In trying to clean it up I somehow make more of a mess. “So, sorry, officer!”
“It’s detective, bitch. Get off me!”
“So, sorry Detective Bitch!” I dart into the boarding house that very few knew that I owned calling out for him to send me the cleaning bill. Yes, it was childish. Rudolf hates me. Not sure he even knows why. I do. It’s because who I used to be makes me more, in his eyes, than he could ever hope to become. God, he’s such an idiot on so many levels. A small minded, vicious idiot. If I ever found myself in a room alone with him, I’d have to kill him or end up being raped by him. I reach into my mailbox. Maybe it’s time for a trip.
The invitation in my mailbox was pretty straightforward. A reality show. One with no direction, eliminations, or games. Hidden cameras. The whole season dropped in mass for the binge-watching masses. I walk up several flights of stairs before finally entering the cool confines of my apartment. As the sweat congeals on my skin, I think I may check this out. Ultimately, I will say no. Of course. As I have a dozen times before. But at least I’ll enjoy a first-class plane ticket and lux hotel stay.
When Sean got the invitation, he made a show of tearing it half. “Fuck them!” He shouted. “They couldn’t handle me then and they sure as hell can’t handle me now!” He’d gotten drunk. Or high. Fucked some random.
Fame doesn’t change you. Not at first. At first it changes everyone else. Suddenly you go from being a person to a god. One worthy of worship. That worship, that devotion, that’s what changes you. He held the torn pages in one hand. Pulling from the joint he held in his other he tried not to remember.
Snapshots
The past. We were fourteen.
“I could see the whole wedding!” It was quite the vision.
“Could you see the groom?” Jacob asked, “Was it me?”
“No, sorry,” I reply. “I couldn’t see him.”
Shrug. “Truth is I’ve always been partial to men, anyway. I guess that makes me suicidal.”
Sean, laughing, “Dude, that just makes you gay.”
“Mum always told me being gay makes you suicidal.”
Reina shakes her head. “Your mom makes everyone suicidal.”
The future.
“This isn’t my house!” Sean whisper shouts.
“No, you lout, it’s my house,” Peter replies.
“It’s quite nice,” Sean observes looking around.
“Yes, well, we did all have rather a lot of money at one point.
“I’ve still got money!”
“No, you still make money. There’s a difference. Come on. Let’s get you up to the guestroom. Try not to wake my kid.”
Sean whisper shouts, “You have a kid?!?