Where was he?

Rob blinked a few times to try to gather his senses and look around him.

To his left, he could see a few members of the band he was drumming for.

What was their name again? Men Of Old?

He wasn’t sure at this point.

Rob’s evening had been a complete cluster of noise and booze–which was pretty typical of a night in The Crocodile.

Tucked in between a hostel and a Bank of America, The Alligator was the place where diverse and thriving acts could come and play in a space that wasn’t judgmental, clean, or even above code. The floor swayed and bent at the thrashing mobs, which ebbed and flowed with shrill power chords and far too much low end from the three stand amps that pumped the space with precious noise.

Whoever or whatever lived below The Alligator was probably something Rob never wanted to meet. Yet, if the outdoor signage was to be believed, the owner himself inhabited the space–paid for in total by the noise above.

Rob blinked a few more times–hard, fast, like he was clearing a splinter. He re-centered himself and looked to his right this time. Next to him, a polite girl who went by Ari signaled that the act on stage was almost done.

”Woman,” Rob mentally corrected himself. ”The woman next to me.”

Yet he couldn’t help himself. He knew Ari somewhat well–and even started tutoring her on microbiology for her UW courses.

She was a proto-adult in his eyes–same as those in the band he was opening for (what was their name)? People who still carried a fake in their wallets and purses and hurt themselves in a pit to the type of distorted drivel which swelled out from the band on stage.

Again. Rob blinked again.

He needed to be ready for the set. Sure, the songs the boys had put together was little more than a cacophonic mix of thrash and doom–but he still needed to focus. At least, he would need to focus this many drinks in.

He blinked again. How many drinks had he had?

He was drunk–he knew that much–but he wasn’t entirely sure how drunk he was. He tried to count his shots.

One at the front of house, free of charge and courtesy of Ryan the Bartender who knew him very well. Two more purchased by the band for him, as a bit of a “thank you” for stooping down to the band’s level. At least three of four more after setup and before the opening act started up. Maybe another from Ari for good luck?

And after that? He wasn’t entirely sure.

“Hey man. You good?”

The voice rang out from his right, barely audible above the music on stage. Rob turned to his left to look towards Jared.

What a stupid name for a kid. Jared? How old was he when In Bloom toured Europe? Eight?

“Yeah man,” Rob shot back. He threw a bright smile on his face. “Let’s fuck it up!” he gruffed out over the mess of noise which surrounded them.

Jared smiled and nodded. “Fuck yeah, dude!” He shouted, looking to the two other boys.

Rob looked at them through whiskey-soaked eyes and felt little more than contempt.

These were no trailblazers. They weren’t the kind of kids to make music to mean anything. And he would know.

He’d seen it done twice.

No–these were kids who wanted the idea of a rock band. The allure of the sights. The sounds. The tours full of drugs they could take and the women they could fuck the brains out of on a tour bus.

They wanted something they thought Daddy could buy. Which is exactly why Jared’s Dad–a nice, perpetually busy person he had met during the heyday of MAE–had set the two up and paid Rob far more than he was worth to play with the boys.

Here he was, mid 30s, about to take the stage with kids who thought they could buy their way into the scene they were sampling.

So yeah—of course he had been drinking.

---

Rob blinked again, and the show was over.

Sweat bled down from his forehead like a gashed wound and bit at his eyes. His arms vibrated from the forearms down. His fingers blistered from poor form and a violent grip throughout the band’s set.

But the crowd ahead of him roared in approval, and all seemed right. He supposed he did earn that ten grand.

“Thanks again to Rob Pennie on the drums,” Jared barked into the mic, “’cause this has been an absolute pleasure and a dream of mine, my man.”

Rob shot a grin up to Jared to get him to turn away and back to the audience.

“And I have to say, on behalf of everyone here, in Seattle, all over the fuckin’ place man,” Jared continued. “Call Jane. Call Austin, call Sam. The audience is here man, make it happen!”

Before Jared could finish the sentence, the crowd shouted over him–and the noise seemed to deafen all of King County. It was insane the level of noise they produced. About as insane as Jared’s notion.

”Yeah,” Rob thought to himself as he waved and faked appreciation for the wooing crowd. ”You guys keep dreaming.”

Rob’s walk home wasn’t too far–three blocks east and two north–but fending off the teenage crowd wasn’t an easy task. He was a weird spot with this sort of thing. With Mae, there’d likely be a bodyguard or two following the two of them around the streets of Seattle. But without her, he was almost entirely anonymous.

That was, whenever he wasn’t at or in a concert.

Every year since In Bloom’s demise and especially after Mae’s MAE phase (at the two referred to it is), he’s grown to resent the fame and the noise. Because it wasn’t a fame to be proud of. It was a fame based on his proximity to his ex-wife. And, a fame based on a band that exploded so cataclysmically and fully he wanted nothing to do it with it.

But, as luck would have it, In Bloom and MAE followed him around like some fetid ghost. He couldn’t listen to KEXP for more than an hour before J’s voice would crackle over the car stereo. And not even three songs seemed to go by on the pop station before Mae would be on there, singing her biggest hits.

Especially these days, In Bloom seemed to take on more and more of a life of its own. Kids seemed to throw their hits across video after video. You could easily see 15-year-olds lip-syncing their hearts out with J, mashing up the songs with Paramore or Rodrigo.

Rob always laughed at the thought of it. ”Wherever she is,” Rob would think, “I’m sure she fucking hates that shit.”

It was almost a relief, however, that his ex-girlfriend’s band was taking on a new life over his ex-wife’s act. Listening to MAE, all-caps, was an aggravating experience. It would only bring about memories of slaving over an album, over and over, only to have Mae, the person, overrule him and swap him out with a drum machine.

Listening to MAE also brought him back to the world tour. Crossing over Europe, Asia, and at one point they did a week in South Africa. If you watched MAE’s documentary, it would be easy to see how the tour was actually going.

It wasn’t a tour of dreams. It was one of nightmares.

Still, after all these years, Rob couldn’t be too mad at Mae. Visitation rights had been firmly upheld, and he even got child support, and a lot of it due to the difference in income.

Rob even had to admit he liked seeing her. They had always been good friends.

Just not-so-good lovers.

Rob shook his head. Centered himself.

He was a block away from his home, turned around and signing the last of the autographs and telling his final tour stories.

One guy–a short, timid dude probably still in high school, was the last of the crowd. His arm shook as he handed over a vinyl in pristine condition. On the front, J’s face bright and happy.

Last he heard of her, she had been in rehab. And last he’d seen her, it had been through tear-stricken eyes, looking at her sleeping form. Then bolting off in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

“Want me to make it out to someone?” Rob asked as he got a silver sharpie out. He was all business–even knowing half of those words came out slurred, half-formed.

“Jane,” the boy said, after a moment.

Rob looked at him, swaying, more confused than anything. “J?” he asked back.

The boy looked taken by surprise. “No, no, sorry,” he laughed out. “My girlfriend’s name is also Jane. I’m giving this to her for her birthday.”

Rob blinked. “Of course,” he said–too loud–and signed the album. “Best of luck to you both.”

The boy thanked him and turned the corner, and again Rob was alone.

---

The next day was when the call came.

It was two–no, three–in the afternoon. His head throbbed and ached. He was leaned over his armchair, ice pack in hand, when the phone buzzed.

At first, he thought it was Elle. She probably had grabbed her mother’s phone, as she usually did around this time when the tutor wasn’t looking. She’d usually call and scream “Daddy, I did it!” into the phone. No reason—just a child declaring victory over her mean tutor, snagging the phone and making a call when no one was looking. Rob would laugh and say as much as he could before the tutor eventually came and took the phone back.

But it wasn’t Elle this time. It was Evan.

“What?” Rob shot into his phone, before putting it on speaker and sitting it on the end table.

In the transition, Rob missed the first few words of Evan’s speech. Not like it mattered much, anyways.

Evan was the ‘account manager’ for In Bloom at the moment. The third in four years. The licensing rights for the band post-breakup had been a clusterfuck, made ever-more complicated since the four of them mutually agreed not to ever meet up in person again. So instead, four different managers working with four different estranged bandmembers had made a quagmire of the rights over the years. Evan was the unfortunate ringleader—the voice between the band and the label itself. He was probably the closest thing they had to a manager at the moment, as terrible as that was.

“—absolutely fucking insane, what we’re seeing,” he said as the speakerphone activated. “Have you seen it?”

“No, I haven’t,” Rob said back. He re-adjusted on his seat and moved the ice back down his bad leg. “Do tell.”

“Millions per day, Rob. On every fucking song in the back catalogue.”

“So, the catalogue?” Rob corrected.

“Yeah–fine¬–whatever,” Evan replied, the three words hitting equal emphasis and lack of interest. “The point is, you have to strike when the iron is hot with these things. We can’t wait for it to top out before making our move.”

“And what would that move be?”

“…don’t be mad.”

Rob’s blood pressure shot up. That wasn’t good.

“Evan—”

“Two weeks in Orange County. That’s all I’m asking—”

“EVAN—”

“Hey. HEY. Two weeks. You and the rest of them. Turn in a song, an EP, fucking four albums, I don’t care. Just turn something in. We can put in cameras and everything, make a doc out of it.”

“No the fuck you won’t.”

“Or not! It’s fine. I don’t care. I don’t. Just make something.”

Rob thought for a long while. Ahead of him he could see the faint outline of Puget Sound amongst the fog and fir trees. He envisioned them dissipating into the smog, pollution, and shithole that was Southern California. After leaving, he had vowed never to return. So far, he had kept that promise.

“What did the others say?” he finally asked. He could feel the sigh of relief from Evan on the other end. Not an immediate no. Progress.

“I haven’t asked them yet,” Evan admitted. “To be honest, I wanted to start with you.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, you’re the most dependable! You’re an excellent drummer, still working all over the world and…how do I put this.”

After a moment, Rob interjected. “Put it however you want.”

A pause. Then: “You’re the most successful one, Rob. I thought you would be the easiest yes and I need a yes from someone before I call anyone else. I know you guys aren’t close—”

“—a nice way to put it—”

“—but they’re not that easy to get a hold of, much less convince.”

Rob leaned back in his chair, weighing the options. Elle would be out of school in a week. He always took her on a trip in summer. He’d have to push that back.

“I can’t be gone all summer—” he started, but Evan was way ahead of him.

“You won’t be. We do this over the next three weeks, you go home for the summer, spend time with Elle, we mix and master, maybe we talk about a short tour in the fall. I know Elle’s important to you.”

“You promise? No summer tour—”

“Rob I can’t promise anything,” Evan said. “You know how these things are. But I’ll try my best.”

Rob took a deep breath. Between him and his picturesque Seattle view were three half-drank bottles of whiskey.

Maybe he could use a change of pace. At least, before he’d have to call AA.

“Two weeks,” Rob repeated. “Not a fucking day more. I want the fuck out of California after two weeks.”

---

Within four days, all of the arrangements had been made. When he told Mae over the phone, she seemed over the moon for him. And she was—which didn’t help.

He almost wanted to fight with her, but the truth was, Mae was an excellent mother and a genuinely nice ex-wife. Which really only made him feel shittier.

She also let him have Elle over the weekend for a short getaway even though it wasn’t his weekend. Rob took her out to nearby Victoria. She was in the middle of a floral phase, and the two had an absolute blast walking through the streets of the quaint Canadian town.

But it all passed far too quickly. Right as he picked her up, it felt like he was dropping her right back off at her mother’s—a glass mansion on a hill in Mercer Island.

“Where are we going next month?” He asked Elle, on his knees, at Mae’s doorstep.

“I dunno,” Elle responded. “Oranges cow?”

“Orange County,” Rob corrected. “Why do you wanna go there?”

“You wanna go there,” she responded, matter-of-factly. “I wanna go there.”

Rob and Mae shared a look and a laugh at their daughter’s answer. “Tell you what,” he said, “maybe we can check out a farm when I get back. See some cows, oranges, apples?”

Elle smiled at the thought. “Can I get dinner now?”

“Can I get a hug?”

Rob squeezed his daughter tightly for as long as she’d allow—hardly more than a second—before she bolted into the home, yelling in delight. It was movie night, and movie night was the one night she got chicken nuggets for dinner.

Rob stood to his feet and looked to Mae. He tried to get a read out of her, but she seemed unreadable in this moment. It almost concerned him.

“Take care of yourself, Rob,” she said softly. “Seriously.”

“I do,” he said, a bit more defensively than he intended.

“Rob…it’s starting to smell on you. Seriously.”

“I don’t drink when I have Elle,” he shot back. “You know that.”

“I know you didn’t. I know you don’t. That’s why I’m worried. When’s the last time you washed that shirt?”

“Mae, please—”

“Tell them hi for me, would you?” Mae responded—changing the subject as she always did when she made her point. “I hope it works out.”

With that, and a brief hug, Mae receded back inside.

She had a way of doing that. Making her point—making her threat—without having to even seem mean.

Rob stormed back to his car, filling with anger with every footstep. Because no matter what happened, Mae was not going to take Elle from him. And if she thought so, she had another fucking thing coming.

---

Within 24 hours of dropping Mae back off, Rob was flying over California.

He had been situated into first class–not his request–and kept a hat as far down as he could. He’d wear sunglasses in this flight if it wasn’t too suspicious.

In just the past few days, the millions the previous songs had been pulling had begun converting into record sales. At this point the band had only small batch pressings available. In the past few days after they all had sold out, the label had put out pre-orders for a full pressing.

Tens of thousands of pre-orders later, it was starting to look like a four or even five figure royalty check this month.

Thanks to his work with MAE, he had never hurt for money after she went big—and made about as much as a predominant lawyer from royalties alone. And as uncomfortable as he had been with his growing wealth as of late, he had to admit that a royalty check that size wasn’t life-changing anymore.

But was it to J? Was it to Sam and Austin?

The thought of meeting them drew a pit in his stomach, so he returned his focus again to the drink on his tray.

Within another hour, the plane had landed. Rob practically bolted from the gate terminal to the baggage claim—picking a spot in the corner to avoid any growing paparazzi activity. In Seattle he was a virtual unknown. But here, being the ex-husband of one of the biggest pop stars of the decade made it easy to be seen. The In Bloom explosion didn’t help either.

And sure enough, just as he grabbed his bag—

“Rob! Rob!” Some lanky boy with a patchy beard sprinted up to him with a DSLR. The flash was already blinding. Rob threw his glasses over his eyes before trying to move past him, towards the door.

“What do you think of In Bloom’s recent success? Is more retro rock making a comeback?”

“What?” Rob couldn’t help but mutter aloud. ”Classic rock??” he thought to himself. What the fuck happened to California in the past few years?

The paparazzo, unflustered, continued a rattle of questions while maintaining about a six inch distance between himself and Rob. “Have you spoken to Mae recently? What does she think of the success of your side project? What are your thoughts about Jane’s newfound sobriety?”

That one stopped him dead in his tracks. J had gone sober? How was that news? Once a few years back someone had asked him what he thought of her in rehab, but he didn’t think on it much further than that. And if he was being honest, he brushed it off with the mindset that it was typical for her.

But now, on his way to see her and the others, he was just now finding this out?

He was beginning to feel worse and worse about this.

“Look, man,” Rob finally said, “I’ll answer one question if you ask just one.”

The two were nearly outside–where airport security would no doubt stop this guy before following Rob any further.

Without hesitation, the paparazzo responded: “What happened between you and Jane in the first place?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Rob turned to go outside. “Nevermind,” he said as he turned away from the guy and his promise. “Sorry, kid.”

---

Rob was quickly whisked into a black SUV, which took Rob up and up—higher and higher into Chino Hills. He had a brief call with Evan to get the details: it would be a three-story AirBnB with a private drive and a security detail nearby in case of any fanatics. The kitchen was stocked with as much junk food and booze as they could find. The basement was a converted theater-turned-studio and they had installed the simplest soundboard they could find for them to record demos with. And finally, at any point they could call in pros to get some better sound and even cut a record right then and there.

Rob only had one question, which he asked as they pulled up to the gate and his driver started to enter in the access code:

“Am I first?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “But you won’t be alone for long.”

The driver pulled up the home–a nice, distinctively Los Angeles-looking mansion–and drove off without a second world.

Leaving Rob with a suitcase and little else to enter inside.

He didn’t spend too much time looking around. In fact, he almost immediately moved upstairs and picked a room.

He briefly considered picking the master bedroom—an old band tradition of whoever got to a rental home first—but saw that the entire mansion was designed for the purpose of making music. Each bedroom had its own mini-fridge (with more booze), a bathroom, hot tub, and even sauna.

Rob picked the first one he entered, unpacked a few things, and plopped down, face first, into the bed.

Every moment he spent here alone was bringing him ever closer to confronting the rest of the band. Had they spoken since the band ended? Did they have some sort of anti-Rob group chat? What did they think of his and Mae’s overpublicized divorce?

He calmed himself and decided laying in bed may not be the best move. He moved down to the studio space, got behind the kit, and got to practicing.

If anything was going to get these two weeks over with, it was going to be the work.

As he played, he pulled out a whisky shot, and took it.

Lord knows he’d need it for however this first talk with J was going to go.

“Shit.”

An alarm, set to a system, shuffled through a list of songs and picked a different one each morning at 5:30 AM. Today’s was The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience

A poof of blonde hair popped over a black comforter as an arm, disturbing a tabby cat named Sin, darted toward all the commotion until silence took back over the bedroom. Sin, already being awake, was now doing his morning nuzzle, digging his nose deep until he found another.

“Hey, bud,” grumbled Jane. She did a series of stretches in bed as the cat plopped down the floor and padded away, most likely waiting for the door to open.

That door would open twenty minutes later with Jane, fully dressed in her wet suit, board under her arm, and her keys in her mouth. “Don’t bring me any more rats,” she instructed to the cat sternly, spit bubbling at her lips, but without even a glance, Sin ran out the door and scampered across the yard near a line of trees.

Jane started the Bronco, illuminating the otherwise dark yard and highlighting the stark incline that began about twenty feet behind the house. Living alone in the NorCal mountains may be a bit isolating to most, but at this point, the solitude was a welcome constant. There were neighbors here and there. Steve, a thirty-something gay man with tons of dating drama who lived a half mile up the road would be taking care of the cat, and Lenny and Carol, who had a monthly gathering of everyone on the road at their two-bedroom cottage further down the hill. Jane preferred to visit by herself when she did.

This had become her routine not long after she had moved in. Errands and surfing before the sun came up meant less people to see. Depending on weather, Jane would reemerge again before dusk to enjoy the sunset with just a short hike. But however, this would probably be the last morning that goes as planned.



Cora: So Jane, you haven’t been spotted in 5 years – where have you been? What have you been doing? It’s been stated multiple times that you won’t speak of the of the 5 years before that.

Jane picked feverishly at her nails, keeping her eyes on her dining room table now topped with recording equipment, a reporter, and a photographer. Jane slid her sunglasses on to avoid the flashing light.

Jane: Uh, I’d rather keep our location private for now if that’s okay…
Cora: Yes, yes, of course - and don’t worry about the voice recorder, it’s just in case I miss anything.
Jane: O-okay.

Swallowing the anxiety welling up in her chest and breathing it out slowly, just as her therapist taught her, she nodded and brought her eyes to the reporter.

Jane: Sorry. I haven’t spoken publicly in so long…Any way, I still release little acoustic via an anonymous Instagram, which I plan to keep that way. I still surf, just before the suns up.

Jane paused and scanned the home around her, the best investment she had made with her gold rush from In Bloom, besides the pair of C cup breasts purchased during her stripping days at Hearts, a club ran and patronized by mostly 1%-ers. Movie and show posters lined the vaulted ceilings of the painted-black living room, completed by a fireplace and couches that looked as if they could swallow you whole. A spiral staircase led to the upstairs containing her room, a guest room, and a loft that overlooked the first floor. Jane had jumped from there over the railing years ago, only breaking an ankle.

Jane: I’ve found a lot of peace in solitude, and I think that’s been a huge factor in keeping me clean.
Cora: Ah yes, that was in our line of questions –
Jane: Of course it was.

The reporter looked up to Jane, making note of her snide comment, but flicked her eyes back down to find whatever page the information was on.

Cora: It says here that you’re last time in rehab was five years ago. What made you go back that last time?
Jane: Wow, um…Let’s just say, I was sick of repeating the same mistakes in my life over and over again. The media wouldn’t leave me alone, and I just wanted to escape it all. The, uh…The last time I went in was for cocaine, heroin, and alcohol, which were always my issues. And I haven’t touched them since.
Cora: If I’m not mistaken, that’s the first time you’re publicly confirming what you were in rehab for.
Jane: [sigh] That’s correct.
Cora: How is living this normal life – this life in solitude – compared to how it once was? Does it get boring? I can’t imagine the girl who the song My Little RnR is written about is now a saint. Do you at least still live as sexually liberated as you did in your twenties?

Jane giggled at the memory of that song, biting the edge of her thumb nail, but as she continued, Jane’s expression grew sour. “Five more minutes.”.

Jane: No. I have a cat, Sin, who I’ll miss a bunch. He’s been the only person in my bed in years. And, I mean, I have some neighbors I’m close to. But, if I’ve learned anything since I had my fifteen minutes of fame, it’s just…

Jane bit too deep, and she felt warm blood rush into her mouth. Her fist retracted back into her hoody’s sleeve to conceal it.

Jane: Being alone is just what’s best for me.

Cora motioned for her to continue with a ‘but,’ reminding Jane of the reason they were all there.

Jane: but…I’m excited to possibly see my old bandmates and give everyone what they’re asking for.

Jane nodded to signal Cora that she was done, but Cora shook her head, them both knowing what was coming next.

Cora: Speaking of, how do you feel about seeing Rob Pennie again? Have you guys spoken at all? And how did you feel about his divorce that –

Jane put her hands flat on the table and leaned into the microphone so that her voice would be much louder in Cora’s ears. The woman’s eyes squinted.

Jane: I am really hoping that Rob is ready to write music because that’s what we’re here for! About music! Not me! Not fucking Rob! Not –

Cora slammed a finger on the STOP button of the recorder and sighed as she stood, obviously frustrated by her interviewee’s actions.

“Marcos, get a couple shots of her on her patio, then we’re done here.”

Jane smiled brightly as Cora packed her things and headed for the car, following Marcos to take the picture they needed for the web article releasing the following day.





By the time Jane reached the beach, Of course, In Bloom had been playing, but this was the first time she didn’t change the radio before the jockey could even finish his unfunny quip about them ‘rising from the ashes’ or whatever cheesy analogy they chose that day. Nope, she might as well get used to hearing it, so she sat with her eyes closed with the vehicle vibrating beneath her, until the song changed to MAE’s top 40 hit on the blah blah blah. She noted that time read 6:02 before punching the button on the radio with fervor and turned the keys towards her.

Jane had nothing against Mae, the person. Well, she knew logically she shouldn’t.

So what? Her ex-boyfriend, the first and last person she probably ever loved, got married to a pop superstar and their stupid, in-love faces were on every social media platform, music channel, YouTube suggestion…Jane would never give them the credit out loud, this very much propelled much further under the rock she was safe under. Can’t see Rob’s face everywhere if you don’t go on the internet.

The only moments of happiness that Jane got were from the good news about Rob. That he was still successful as a musician. That he had a daughter.

He got divorced.

While that news did instill a bit of hope in her, Jane doubted that Rob was nothing but absolutely in love with Mae at one point, enough to follow behind her all over the world. Enough to have a child with her.

Over the years, she pondered over infinite what-ifs, but one that haunted her was becoming more and more prominent.

What if that had been Jane instead?

Jane shook her head and peered out at the horizon, slowly becoming light and lighter shades of blue.
A few familiar cars dotted the otherwise abandoned parking lot. The usual crew, all kind people. But Jane figured they were the same as anyone else, just polite enough not to ask questions.

This would probably be the last time it’d be this peaceful. Hell, she’d probably move again. No part of Jane wanted to return to the lifestyle she had. The partying, the night life, the drugs. Losing the person she loved, her best friend.

Jane put her earbuds in and hopping down to the ground and grabbing her board from the trunk. She hit shuffle, ready to hit next on whatever song as usually did, but after the first few chords, she slid the phone into the pocket of her wetsuit and started the half-mile down the rocky coastline, Transdermal Celebration by Ween blasting in her ears as her feet dug into the wet sand beneath her.



By the time her plane arrived in LA, Jane bit off each nail as far as it would go. The edible she took kept her calm as in, “keep-the-window-shut-and-pretend-you’re-on-the-ground” calm, but the anticipation of what was awaiting her once she landed kept her in a perpetual state of anxiety throughout the flight.

A black SUV picked her up from the airport, and Jane used the opportunity to dig through her luggage and pull a hoody over her head to hide the currently braless chest she covered with a tank top. She decided that dressing modest would be the best choice while she was staying at the house. Jane knew must have Rob hated her no matter what, but Jane didn’t even want to give herself the hope.

The drive was shorter than expected; she was just deciding on whether to throw some bronzer on to disguise how pale she must’ve been compared to the last time Rob had seen her, but as the SUV ascended the driveway, Jane sighed and threw the makeup back into the bag she had in her lap. As soon as she exited, Jane could hear the pounding of drums booming from the stomach of the house, and Jane’s limbs began to tremor with anxiety. If this was 7 years ago, she’d be too fucked up to care. Now, seeing him was all she could think about.

A jacket hung in the entry way above of a pair of shoes, and although the drumming pointed to who arrived first, Jane couldn’t help herself. She looked around in a split second before burying her face in its fabric and taking a deep inhale. It was Rob alright; the few things she had left behind smelt the same way at one point. Seconds had past, lost in nostalgia, when a specific roll across the drum set snapped her back into reality.

Shaking herself out of the nonsense, Jane - with great effort - dragged her things across the home until she reached the bedrooms. Rob had taken one, surprisingly not the master suite. “Well, if he’s not taking it, I’m not fucking taking it,” she grumbled as she pulled the bags further until reaching a room and pushing them near the bed.

Lighting a joint as she looked in a mirror, Jane released her hair from the braid it was in and shook her head so that its length unfurled to the middle of her back. Due to not being in the sun, the hair to her shoulders was her natural color – a dark, ashy blond/brown, while the ends remained bleached from the sun. She then brushed it out and threw it behind her shoulder. A tube of mascara was eventually retrieved from her bag, and she swiped the applicator across her lashes, then she pinched her freckled cheeks to help bring back color to her face, drained of blood from nerves.

Taking her time down the stairs, her feet quietly tip toed until she could see an office – no, a sound booth. Beyond that held the drum kit that was being beat to shit, along with the one fear Jane refused to face head-on in ten years.

She watched for as long as she could, admiring the man she once was inseparable from. She couldn’t make out his features from here, just his form, but the fact he was even so close was entrancing enough. That is, until she found herself entering the booth and sitting down, only glass and 10 feet between them. It hadn’t been more than five seconds as Jane grabbed the microphone meant for talking to the musicians in the recording booth and pressed the button down.

Jane’s voice crackled over the speaker; it only took a “Rob” to bring the drumming to a halt. Before he could make eye contact, fight or flight instinct kicked in, and Jane swiveled the chair around. Her finger stayed on the button.

After a breath, her body reluctantly turned back and Jane’s eyes met Rob’s, and her heart felt like it was melting and breaking simultaneously. Sure, she’d seen him in photos and videos over the years, but something about having those eyes on her again after nearly a decade made her spine shiver.

“Sorry for interrupting, I…”

He aged exactly like she imagined he would. Still ruggedly handsome, but he carried a weight of a man now, creating little crow’s feet and a few silver hairs here and there. From where she was, his arms - the object of many happy memories of him - also looked the same. Warm, dark, safe. His hands. He was so similar, but so different. They lived their lives without each other after being inseparable for years. Who was he now?

“Hi,” Jane whispered, lips barely moving, growing distracted as she observed the familiar stranger. With all the emotions she was feeling inside, she couldn’t tell she wanted to scramble away up the stairs or to run through the door and tackle him.
Neither would happen.

“I…I wanted to say unless we’re writing I’ll stay out of your way. I don’t deserve forgiveness, just…”

Warm tears began to well, and using the sleeve of her sweater, Jane attempted to blot them away inconspicuously as she regained control of her voice.

“I’m glad it was you who made it with music. You deserve it. And, you’re a father now…I’m so proud of you…and I’ve mis-“

Realizing where her words were taking her, she momentarily released the mic’s button and took a dramatic breath.

“I’ll be in my room the rest of the night. Evan wants an update by 9pm tomorrow, so we’ll figure out something before then.”

Letting go of the button for the last time, Jane crept away facing him until her back touched the open door, causing her to finally rip her focus from Rob and to the staircase, which she ascended as hastily as possible without looking like she was sprinting.

One back in the safety of her room, the door swung shut and was locked. Jane sunk to floor, and tears started to pour. Kody – a mid-50s butch woman who was her sponsor – always told her to deal with Rob proactively so that she didn’t end up backing herself in a corner, but Jane was much too late for that.

She had missed everything.

As her sobs reached louder levels, she climbed to the bed and stuffed her face into the pillows, punching as she did. Jane made peace that she’d be in love with Rob forever, but that was long before she ever thought she’d see him again. Being in the same house with him was just going to be torture.

“Two weeks,” she whispered aloud then flipped around, taking a deep breath. Two fingers wiped under her eyes and confirmed the mascara she had put on was already running. Why did she even try? If Jane found it difficult to be there with Rob, she couldn’t imagine how Rob must be feeling.

And that’s why she decided that she’d eat dinner out of the minifridge and let him roam the house tonight without her in the way. It was all for his sake…right?



It was near 10 pm when Jane’s stomach gurgled with hunger. Turns out besides some peanuts, the minifridge didn’t have much to offer other than an array of alcohol, so Jane scooped the bottles in her arms, exited the room in silence, and tip toed to the kitchen. The drumming had stopped for a while, but Jane listened to the door for the past 20 minutes before making her move.

To not run into him, for his sake of course.

Once the bottles made it to the marble countertop, Jane rushed to the fridge to grab what she could to satiate her. Hummus, celery, a bottle of water, and a pint of chocolate ice cream made its way into her grasp, then she rushed back to the room, hearing the plastic hummus container clunking onto the floor behind her but deciding it wasn’t important enough to risk going back for.

Nearly drifting into her room, Jane whipped the door shut accidentally causing it to slam. “Sorry!” she yelled out to him, if he could hear her.

Now, equipped with the snacks she grabbed, she could at least make it through the nights without any run-ins with Rob.

Rob had about five more minutes to call time. Which meant he still had time to finish a drink or two.

He was in Molo Zero–some bar on the river on the outskirts of Rome, just a block or two’s walk back to the main concert venue, the Stadio Olympico.

Prior to today, he wouldn’t have known any of that information. And tomorrow, on some jet flying to some other country Rob had never been to and would likely never be again, he would get another briefing, with more place names to quickly remember and forget, remember and forget–endlessly.

At least some things were constant, which were his relative anonymity apart from Mae and MAE, and his credit card working at every dive bar, tavern, and watering hole around.

Typically, before a call time, he would feel at least some pressure to practice. But today Mae had picked Setlist D–the setlist that was quickly becoming the most popular choice for the tour. It was a collection of four on the floor songs Rob could play since he was six, piano ballads he simply rolled on some cymbals for, and a handful of songs where he’d press a button on his stage computer and let Pro Tools take over for him. He’d drum, of course, but almost entirely for show. His kit would be turned off, and he’d play, big grin across his face, acting like the grooves he played were audible to anyone but a few hired roadies.

On D-Days, as he had come to know them as, he mostly just drank, sat around, and kept to himself.

Mae was getting busier and busier–no doubt due to wanting to end the concert series in sparkling fashion. They had two more weeks of then, and then, as far as she had told the press media, she was done forever.

Privately, Mae had told Rob she wanted to do five-and-ten year tours to keep the “magic” alive, as she put it. Rob had his own doubts about how thoroughly she would be keeping to that idea.

But there was something else–she had started acting strange, in a way Rob wasn’t entirely sure how to handle. Mae had always been someone who seemed to be in the same room with you, but never actually talk to you. Speaking to Mae was like speaking to an apparition–¬some words seemed to stick to her, but others would pass through to the other side, smash against a wall, and crumple to the floor.

But recently, she seemed quite the opposite. During the three hours of alone time per week they had arranged (with Rob getting her to up the number from two), she would hyperfocus on him. Hang on every word. Wait to see if what he said passed some internal test.

He felt analyzed by her, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

”Come stai?”

Rob turned his head quickly to look to where the voice had come from.

One seat over from him was a man around his age–thick beard, olive skin, and dressed simply–looking towards him through thick shaded glasses.

“Scuse…I am Dante.” He held out a hand, which Rob shook. “It has been some time since I used English. But you are Rob, no?”

Rob quickly tried to transition into “fan” mode, which usually meant answering tons of questions about Mae, warding off weirdos asking about bra and shoe sizes, and occasionally thanking them for hearing of In Bloom.

“Yeah, Rob,” he replied. “Here to see the show?”

“No, not see,” Dante replied. “Work. Hired help for stage work. It is good to see you again!”

Rob looked to the man¬–thinking¬–before he continued.

“It was three…four? Years ago. I worked for Vicarious. We spoke once on that tour.”

Rob continued to think, embarrassment beginning to swell on his face. Dante, ever the smiler, seemed unfazed.

“It is okay, brother!” He almost yelped. “It was a long time. It is good to see you succeed.”

“Thank you,” Rob said. His “fan” mode lowered, somewhat. He took another long drink of whatever well was put in front of him. “Are you still work Vicarious?”

“When they come to Europe, they come to me,” Dante explained. “Next year we will tour again. Play in Rome, maybe not here!”

Rob thought briefly about Zoe. How was she these days?

Rob pushed the thoughts aside. “That’s cool man, I’m happy for you! It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t just asking about my girlfriend.”

Dante simply shrugged. “I don’t know her. I know you. And In Bloom. How are my other friends?”

Rob’s head turned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I texted Austin and Sam a few times since we broke up. Jane, I haven’t seen since–well a while.” As they spot, Rob slipped out a pack of Newports. He offered one to Dante, who accepted, and the two paused as Rob lit both their cigarettes.

“She’s probably not too happy about your new girlfriend,” Dante mused.

“Yeah, I don’t think she cares, Dante.” Rob shot back, almost defensive. Jane was a sore subject. A deeply sore one. Mae was like speaking through someone, but Jane–especially at the end–was a different person entirely.

“She cares, friend,” Dante replied, cool, then: “so do you.”

Before Rob could reply, Dante excused himself and headed to the show, heaving Rob alone to think about whatever the hell he had meant by what he said.





Rob was flying through his practice set.

It felt different than it used to–knowing he was playing specifically as practice and as a warm-up for an In Bloom writing session.

He wondered how the others would take to using their instruments again. He figured a few of them would think of it as putting on an old pair of shoes, or getting back into a familiar groove.

But it wasn’t like that for Rob. Not now.

He started out initially practicing some classic tunes he typically used to loosen up his grip and get into a good pocket. The final groove about 3:50 into Blackest Eyes was a favorite of his–letting him work to fill in the spaces with grooves but not interrupt the flow of the song.

But as his anxiety grew, and he knew he’d have a few familiar faces here sooner, he picked up the pace. He swapped over to Dead Poet Society, beating out faster rhythms.

He had developed a nasty habit over the years of getting too firm with his grip on the sticks. He used to play with far more control. It used to feel like synchronizing with a song, riding on the top crest of a wave, enjoying the experience...

These days, it was more about control than anything else. Rob bent the songs to his will–locking onto a beat like a metronome, refusing to ebb and flow, driving it forward like a dictator.

It didn’t help that his bad leg would always act up–and he often found himself playing through the pain.

The blisters from last week’s Seattle show were beginning to rupture again, and just as he hit the final crest of the song--

“Rob.”

His name hung out like an embarrassing call in the air. Drumsticks flew out of his hands as his grip loosened–too fast–clattering onto the hardwood.

Rob caught a glimpse of J’s profile. Not fast enough to see much more than a blur of blonde, but it was her.

Wow, Rob thought for a moment. Not shocked, not anxious, or much of anything at all. For a moment, it was just novel to see her again.

Then the tension came roaring back as she turned back around.

She looked much the same as she always had. Her posture always seemed tilted in some way–with her shoulders facing one way and her head another. She was almost willow-like, a tanned tree on the Californian coastline.

She was small–it was always one of his first thoughts when he saw her–but never weak. She had an aura about herself that had always intrigued him. He remembered sharing a bed with her, staring at a tangled mess of blonde hair and skin, thinking to himself, who was this person?

He hadn’t felt like he had ever really known her. At one point, he had found that perhaps the most fascinating thing of all. The idea that they could spend a lifetime together as he learned more and more about her, the way she’d think, the places she loved, the minutia of everyday life that she felt so strongly about.

But in the end, that final night, that last moment, as he stared down at her with the last bag of his stuff on his back and a plane ticket crumpled in his right hand, her unfamiliarity stung like a white-hot knife.

Who the fuck was she?

He looked to her, flat, as she spoke and said her peace. Apologizing.

...

...Apologizing??

Rob filled with rage for a moment, and a decade of buried resentment came rushing back. What the fuck was she thinking?? He had told her a time and time–a thousand FUCKING times exactly what would happen if she EVER--

“I’m so proud of you.”

That one cut deep. Deeper than he thought or ever expected. His eyes filled with white-hot tears. She wasn’t looking at him but now it was he that turned away. It took a moment to bury it–swallow it–and look back to her.

He gave her a gentle nod when she mentioned Evan’s request, and locked eyes with her until she broke for the door.

He then leaned back, exhausted, feeling like he had just been released from some vice’s grip, and thought for a moment.

---

He toked up in the backyard soon after practice.

There was a nice pool back here–and hot tub, for that matter, built right into the earth. A shaded lounge-esqe area was here as well, and a wet bar he had snagged more whiskey from which sat on the table by his deck chair.

Getting cross-faded on night one probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but it was a Friday night ritual for him and especially after seeing J, was one he wasn’t keen on giving up. He took one long drag from the joint before tossing it into the ashtray. He figured one was enough, and was about to rise before a familiar voice rang out behind him.

“Is this your place?”

Turning around, he could see Austin in the doorway. He looked different, of course–ten years will do that to you.

He hair was gone, for one. Either shaved off or fallen out he couldn’t tell, but in it’s place was an unruly beard that grazed the collar of his shirt. His arms were coated in ink–good ink–and he was almost top-heavy from time at the gym.

He looked older, sure, but good. Clean. And based on his look, he seemed far more comfortable than either Rob or J had been about getting the band back together.

“You think I can afford this place??” Rob asked back.

Austin’s face didn’t flinch. “You can and you know it, asshole.”

Rob looked to him another moment before bursting out in unprompted laughter. He rose and the two warmly embraced.

“Yeah, maybe I can get Mae to buy it for me,” Rob joked, releasing him and offering Austin a joint. He shook his head and made his way to the wet bar.

“Look man, I don’t know who she was fucking, you’re a goddamn moron for divorcing her.” Austin said as he made himself a drink.

“She divorced me.” Rob shot back through a smile. Seeing J was like a white-hot fire. But Austin was, and really had always been, cool, collected, and dispassionate. Rob thought for a moment, then started to apologize: “Look, man, it was shitty of me to not--”

“--call me sometime?” Austin finished for him. “Relax, Rob. I know you would have never spoken to me again if it wasn’t for this. And I get it. You had to go follow your bliss on some world tour and make a shitload of money. And I needed to go get a master’s and teach biology.”

“You’re kidding,” Rob said. “You’re not a teacher.”

Austin was all smiles at this. He took a shot of rum and continued: “I am. I do Life Sciences at a community college in Phoenix and I do online Organic Chemistry tutoring for Arizona State.”

“Holy shit!” Rob couldn’t stop laughing at the thought. “You’re a fucking teacher. I would never have called it.”

“Sam hadn’t either,” Austin mused. “And before you continue to beat yourself up over being an abandoning dick, Sam and I hadn’t spoken in four years.”

“How is he?”

“Go ask him yourself,” Austin replied. “I think he’s practicing in the basement.”

--

The two continued to talk for a bit, sharing quick back and forths about what their day-to-day was like. Austin explained what Phoenix was like and Rob told him all about Elle.

Before either of them knew it, night had fallen, and the two turned inside to see the others. Rob was good and drunk now. He felt loose enough to even see J, if she happened to be nearby.

But entering into the kitchen, all he heard was the pattering of feet and hummus hitting the floor. Watching her form disappear up the stair, it reminded him of Elle–sneaking into the kitchen and using his cajon to get the Oreos he kept on his top shelf.

Austin looked to Rob as Rob bent down to pick up the hummus. “I take it you two aren’t talking?”

Rob shot Austin a glance before making his way up the stairs. “Not yet.” He admitted.

As he ascended, he was almost grateful he wasn’t in a sober mindset. He figured maybe the two could at least break some of the tension. But if he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if he would start a fight in this mindset, either.

But he just barely got to see her in the hall before her door slammed shut, and a muffled sorry! rang out from her room.

He walked to the door and paused, for a moment thinking.

Should he go inside? Would that be proactive or just a massive invasion of privacy? Back when they were friends, they used to come and go from either other’s homes like they owned the place.

But that was ten years ago.

Instead, Rob gently turned the knob, and knew it was unlocked.

He opened the door just wide enough for the hummus to fit through, and slid it across the carpet into the room, before shutting the door again. Through it, he called out “you dropped this,” and thought of saying more, before giving up and heading back downstairs.

“You and Jane being weird as fuck,” Austin joked as he dug his hand into a Pringles can in the kitchen. “Nothing changes, huh?”

“Fuck off, Austin,” Rob replied, almost defensive. “We’re almost forty.”

He mentioned how he’d be up early practicing before getting some snacks and heading up to his room.

He’d had to meet with Sam tomorrow. For now, all he wanted was to sleep. Pushing the door shut without bothering to lock it himself, he put the snacks on the nightstand, stripped nude, and slipped under the covers.

He was out in seconds.

“Oh, I – “ Jane, startled, whipped around, beaming at the voice she heard. But as quick as her excitement came, it was just her again.

What if she just went to his room now?

“No,” she said aloud to her own thoughts.

If Jane had a shot at proving to Rob that she changed for the better, trying to seduce him was probably not the best move. Especially on the first night.

She sighed in frustration and opened the tub of ice cream instead, deciding to escape her thoughts with some reality show on Netflix.


“I still can’t get over it,” Jane whispered, her nimble fingers rubbing the top of Austin’s head. “And this beard.” She had moved down the poof of hair and ran her fingers through it with a childlike curiosity.

“Will you braid it while we’re here?” Austin asked sincerely, causing her to chuckle.

“If that’s the look you’re going for, then sure, old friend.”

They had been the first awake – around 5:30 am – and after a joint in the backyard, they were preparing for livestream for Jane’s anonymous IG account. “You brought your disguise?”

“The sunglasses and hat? Yeah, I got it.” Austin chuckled at Jane’s seriousness. “No one’s figured this out yet?”

“There’ve been guesses, but none are close,” she responded as she tucked her hair into a cap and pulled the hood of her sweater on top. Next, a black pair of oversized round glasses that hid close to half her face. “It’s the only outlet I’ve had to create music without the…the –“

“The attention?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Jane mumbled, grabbing her acoustic guitar case and handing it to Austin. “You sure you got the songs down fine?”

“Look at J, worried about my guitar playing. I know you got pretty good on that mountain of yours, but your still no Austin.”

Jane smiled, “you’re right.”

While Jane liked the anonymity of the account she created, it wasn’t because of lack of need for attention. Especially during the rough years, all she craved was attention, but it never quite filled the void she had.



The club reeked of cigar and cigarette smoke, hazy too, and Jane stumbled out from the locker room out onto the floor. She’d gotten too fucked up before work, but if she could just avoid –

Suddenly, Jane was falling to the floor, only to be picked up by her boss and Heart’s owner, Derik. “I told you, Pennie, the next time you can’t finish a shift because you’re nodding out, I’m kicking your ass out of here for good.”

“Let me jussst get a vodka red bull and I’ll wake right up!” Jane slurred, winking at her boss and brushing past him to the bar. “The usual,” she groaned to the bartender as she pulled the black fishnet sleeves up to cover the track marks that now inhabited both crooks of her elbows. The rest of her outfit consisted of a black bra, a black thong that peaked out over tiny black denim “shorts” and black fishnet stockings. While Jane never had what was considered a stripper’s body, between the implants and the crowd of old bikers, she developed a group of men who would come back just to see her.

Heroin, most of all, made it all bearable. It numbed Jane enough to ignore the faces and the harshness of the men she served, and instead, let her soak up the attention she craved. The feeling of hands on her. Of being wanted, and her just giving into it.

Heart’s was safe. The connections didn’t extend past the parking lot. These men went home to their wives, Jane went home to her trashed 20th floor apartment in Long Beach. There were no feelings involved, at least on Jane’s end, which kept her from getting her heart broken. Well, from getting her heart broken further.

“Up next, Pennie!” the DJ announced from his booth, causing a group of men up front to applaud.

Jane choked down the rest of her drink and stomping towards the stage, giving Mark the DJ a wink as a cue to start the song as she settled side stage in the dark.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re not even that fucked up,” Jane mumbled to herself, smacking her face to wake herself up.

Deep Set filled the room at a roaring volume, the bass and drums of the song rumbling the wooden floor of the establishment. Jane’s black, platform boots ascended the stairs and the spotlight followed her to center stage. The usual crowd all called to Pennie, and that was all Jane needed to start, slowly grinding her hips as the denim shorts reached her heel, with precision, kicked them off to the sides stage, causing another cheer.

As Jane continued her normal routine, she noticed a man sitting in the back, and she paused completely for a split second to focus her eyes beyond the harsh stage lights. She’d have no luck until she was nearing the end of her song, much closer to the edge of stage where men were stuffing singles into what was left on her body. Definitely not Rob, but boy, did it look like him. To be fair, he could be any brunette man in his late twenties. It was enough.

But he wasn’t looking at her. At all. The patron, engrossed in his phone, sat their sipping his drink as Jane performed the end of the routine. The applause at the end didn’t evoke even one glance up.

After her song ended, Jane stormed off the stage, took a quick detour to the bar, then headed to the locker room for her next outfit. This one was red, lace, and head to toe, cut out to show “the goods.” Jane fixed this with a metallic red bikini underneath with a matching pair of horns attached to a headband. The tail attached to the thong of her bathing suit.

Checking herself in the mirror, a younger self flashed in her mind, and her boot kicked the wall of the bathroom.

”FUCK.”

Then - after another trip to the bar - she approached the lookalike as she finished her drink. The man put down his phone and looked up to her, evaluating her in a flash from head to toe as men usually do, and leaned back in his chair confidently.

“Would you like a dance?” Jane offered, focusing on not slurring the words.

The patron smiled but shook his head. “No, thank you.” He waited a few seconds, then picked his phone back up as he took a sip.

Jane blinked in confusion as his rejection but returned to seduction mode like a switch. “Firsssst, you don’t watch my dance…” Her legs, extended by her boots, stepped closer, and let a hand graze his shoulder. “There’sss the VIP room back…there,” her legs wobbled “and I’d like to - “

“Really,” the man spoke, this time more firmly. “No thank you.”

“Why come to the club then, huh? For the drinks?”

He scoffed and straightened up, seemingly enjoying the confrontation. “You’re not my type, sweetie.”

Jane raised an eyebrow, now much too invested to break away from the conversation. If her pseudo-Rob didn’t want her, she desperately wanted to hear why. What wasn’t enough for him? “Yeah? What’s your type then?”

“You know,” he started, “classier.”

“You know where you are, right?”

“Well, Pennie, the… the skinny, heroin chic thing isn’t for me. I know you must clean up nice around here. The bikers love the young, fucked up ones who daddy didn’t love enough, you know?”

Jane’s eyes shut tight at the harsh words. She swallowed the lump in her throat and reopened them to find the lookalike staring right at her.

“You know that singer, Mae? God, she’s so sexy but it’s subtle. She looks like someone you could bring home to mom but completely ravage later that night.”

Now, Jane couldn’t tell you what happened next. Her following memory was her knees and hands smacking the sidewalk, the momentum carrying her a few inches before she rolled off the curb. She could hear the mumbled yell of Derik, yelling something about her being a junkie.

She crawled back up to the sidewalk and first removed her boots, tossing them next to her. Next, using a parking sign’s pole, Jane heaved herself up, groaning in both defeat and pain until she turned the corner, leading to her break area - a grassy alleyway that eventually led to the back of the strip’s stores. Instead, Jane found her usual spot next to a patch of bushes and dropped, sighing weakly. Her phone, her money, anything that could get her home without walking twenty blocks at 3 AM in a crimson red cat suit, was all in her bag in her locker.

Jane buried her hands into the fold of her knees and shivered, rocking back and forth with her eyes closed. If she waited until around 6:30 AM, the coffee shop would open, and she could use a –

“Need a shirt?”

Jane scrambled back against the brick wall, putting out a bare foot as if it’d keep her safe.

“Club’s that way,” she instructed, pointing a finger out.

“No, no,” the man put his hands up and backed away. “I am walking back to my hotel; I saw something red in the bushes.” Accent detected, probably just a tourist.

But the goofy smile he offered allowed Jane to lower her foot, then she returned to hugging her knees. “You have an extra?”

“Always do when I travel,” he grunted, throwing the backpack around his front and in a moment, tossed a rolled up gray shirt at Jane.

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Now,” he crouched down, his eyes showing concern. “Doesn’t look like you had a pocket for a phone. Need to make a call?”

“P-Please. Thank you.” She watched him with curiosity as his arms disappeared back into the backpack. “Why are you in LB? Probably lots of better places to visit in California.”

“While I’ve been to California many times, this city was actually on my bucket list for a while. Lots of my favorite music came from here.”

Jane snorted. “What, Sublime?”

Without answering, he winked and handed her the phone, standing and walking away to allow privacy.

“Austin?…last strike…will you come get me? I, uh, I think I attacked a customer….yeah, I’m around the corner in the alley…you’ll have to go to my locker and get my shit…okay…thank you.”

By the end of the call, her voice crumpled to a whisper, and the phone was returned to the stranger.

“Thank you…I didn’t get your name.”

“Dante. What do you go by?”

“Well, it was Pennie,” she laughed as she stood. “It’s, uh, something from an ex that I can’t get over. But I think my career officially ended tonight.”

“With an I-E at the end?”

Jane cocked her head to the side with amusement. “How’d you know?”

“Just a feeling,” he smiled, throwing his backpack and offering a hand. “Well, Pennie, I have a very early, very long flight in about three hours. Hope you have a better day tomorrow.”

Jane shook his hand. “Thank you again. My friend lives right down the street, should be here any second.”

“Good luck. I hope you get better soon.”

Before Jane could ask what he meant, his silhouette vanished around the corner, and Austin’s motor broke the silent night as it arrived to the mouth of the alley.

She ran up as he turned off the car and headed for the front door of Heart’s, not looking back.

“Austin, I’m sor-“

“I am not dealing with you yet,” he yelled back as he continued down the sidewalk.

She gave up, plopping into the front seat of the Camaro with a huff as so Austin disappeared inside the club. Jane pulled down the visor and slid the mirror cover to the side, revealing the result of the night. Black make-up now traveled around her sunken eyes. Fingerprints of dried blood spotted her face. Her skin was dry, her hair hadn’t been brushed for at least a month. She barely recognized herself.

The duffel bag whipped past her in the back seat, following Austin plopping in the front. Curly hair exploded out of a bun behind his head, and he was still in his plaid pajama bottoms. By the way the car jerked out of the spot and sped down the road, he wasn’t pleased.

Jane’s upper half dove into the back to retrieve her things, ignoring the pain in her elbows from movement and digging with fervor through what sounded like an entire aisle of a store.

“You’re not banging that shit in my car, J.”

“I know, I know. Just getting it ready.”

There was silence until Jane noticed them zoom past her street. “What are - “

“We’re going to the park.”

Fuck



Austin waited in the car as Jane reappeared from the park’s tree line, wobbling happily in the headlights’ beam.

“We’re gonna talk now,” Austin declared, putting the windows down and turning the ignition off.

“I just got high, I don’t-“

“Correction, I’m gonna talk now.”

Jane, not wanting to text him further, nodded in submission and folded herself comfortably for the long haul in the passenger seat.

“I’m moving to Arizona next week. Well, on Monday.”

Jane’s expression didn’t change, it rarely did when she was high, but her chest began to constrict.

“I finally stopped just talking about it. The semester starts in two weeks, and I’m enrolled. I have an apartment ready to go and guaranteed placement after I graduate.”

It was so much to take in. If her head wasn’t already spinning, it surely was now. As a sign she was still listening, Jane nodded again.

“I didn’t tell you, well, because I wasn’t sure you could handle it.”

Ouch.

“But I gotta move on. I’m done with Long Beach, with California. I don’t even know why you stay - the whole town blacklisted you…backed you into the one place that would take you.”

“Hey,” Jane interjected, attempting to sound assertive, but it could’ve been a question.

“No, J. You don’t need the fucking money. I don’t get why you even do it.”

“I’m so lonely, Austin,” her voice cracked to an inaudible breath as she screamed. Tears began to pour. The shirt the Dante gave her was now dabbing her eyes. “It’s fine. You don’t need to take care of me anymore,” she sighed, refusing to look anywhere but out at the trees through the passenger window.

Austin sighed, rubbing his head. “You can’t do this to me anymore.”

“Oh, do what to you, Austin? Take you, Sam and Rob to the fucking top while I’m stuck in the gutter?” Jane was beginning to make a plan in her head on how to get home once she left the vehicle when Austin made her turn in her seat.

“You love the gutter,” he responded, his words dripping with venom. “You’ve turned into this…this hot and cold, manipulative monster. I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.”

Back to a dead expression, Jane nodded. Then, they sat staring the other waiting for the next move. She wasn’t budging.

“I miss you, J. The old you. You were this ball of fun and chaos and power. You lit up the room. Now, you…”

Now Austin turned away, clearing his throat and releasing the knuckles that gripped the steering wheel.

“I know I’m the only one you have left.” His voice took a deeper tone, masking any emotion hiding below the surface. “Arizona is going to be so good for me, but I’m scared I’m gonna get the call.”

Jane’s eyes shut. That was the worst to hear of all.

“I’ve already seen you start to overdose, J, and that fucked me up. I know you didn’t even think about what it did to me, but seeing you - seeing anyone like that...”

“You’re asking me to go back,” Jane whispered. Her face twisted into a grimace. “You want me to go back there.”

“You have the money, Pennie,” he teased, ruffling her hair. “And you’re a fucking wreck.”

The remark caused Jane to snort, and soon the two were laughing.

After a few more minutes of going over finer details, and of course, a gentlemen’s handshake, they were heading towards New Beginnings, a top of the line, spa-like rehab in Malibu that felt like more like a resort than a medical facility. To be fair, Jane took none of it seriously the first time around. She said and did the right things, rushing out of the program as fast as she could.

Her reasoning? She’d have a shot to get Rob back if she was clean. They hadn’t spoken since she left, but maybe…just maybe, he’d give her a chance again to make things right.

But, by the time Jane gotten her act together enough to the naked eye, Rob was with Mae.

“Have you still not gotten over him? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great stripper name.”

Jane laughed as she worked the lace body suit off her body without removing the shirt, contorting her body until it was fully off. Next, a pair of soft shorts were wriggled on over the metallic red bottoms.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him….” Saying it out loud felt freeing yet damning. As if it didn’t really count until it was said aloud. “It’s been almost three years, and just when I think he’s off my mind, he’s there again. A dream, the fucking band being plastered everywhere, a familiar smell or, or song or…”

She stopped herself before the tears came again.

“I was his best friend. I was the one there for him all his life. He was everything and he just…he left. He fucking left and moved on, and I just fucking can’t. It should’ve been him and I like that, like MAE. It was always supposed to be us forever and…”

Austin sighed deeply, obviously mooring over the information he was given. For someone who looked like Spicoli, the man had wisdom. “I fucked up bad. I never told him I was using…I just…If I get clean, maybe –“

“It’s been a while since I spoke to him, J, but he seems happy. And not Rob’s fake-happy we all know. He’s in love.”

Austin might as well have plunged a dagger in her chest. Jane’s teeth clenched, but a few breaths later, she let the air out and resumed her demeanor. “Then, I’m happy for him.”

“Then, I’m proud of you,” Austin smiled, nudging her shoulder.

Jane still wasn’t sure if Austin believed her that night, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Jane’s happiness for Rob wouldn’t come for a couple years, but for now, Jane’s distaste for Mae grew by the day.

“I still don’t like her.”

Austin laughed. They were pulling into parking lot of the rehab. “Well, you don’t have to. By the way, where the fuck did you get that shirt?”

“Huh?” Jane replied, not registering at first what he meant. “Oh.” She looked down to see a faded, cracked In Bloom logo.

“I thought you donated the rest of the merch you had,” Austin laughed, examining the shirt. “That’s from before we ever went on tour.”

“Wow.” Jane put all the pieces together in her mind, but it wasn’t worth the story. “Musta slipped through the cracks.





“Hey, Austin?”

“Yeah,” he responded. He had been adjusting the strap on Jane’s guitar to fit him.

“Thanks for that night you got me at Heart’s and checked me in. I, uh. I owe you a lot.” She approached him and held out her hands.

He took them and smiled. “Well, obviously I didn’t do that great of a job. Ya went back, you know.”

Jane rolled her eyes, but a smile was plastered onto her face. “You’ve always been a great friend.”

“I can’t say the same about you,” they both paused to laugh, “but I’ll always care about you, J. Just, for everyone’s sakes, please don’t relapse again.”

Jane shook her head. “No way. I like where I’m at now.”

“You look good. Healthy, hydrated…”

Austin’s eyes paused on her chest, and Jane flipped him off.

“Sorry, I totally forgot you got those things.”

Jane chuckled and sat on her stool that sat in front of a studio microphone. “I’ve been so single, I forget I have them, too.”

With her headphones on, the two fiddled around with the sound for around five minutes until they were satisfied.

As Jane was setting up her phone to go live, Austin signaled for her to wait. “Hey, what made you bring that night up anyway?”

“Well…” Jane grunted. The countdown started, and she ran back to the stool and turned to Austin. “You’re about to find out.”

Before anyone entered, Jane checked to confirm all signed of blonde were tucked back into the hoodie. “It usually takes a minute to get some people in.”

Around the 2-minute mark, they had about forty people viewing, the chat already pinging about the new person on camera.

“Hey guys. It’s Pennie.”

“Jeeeesus,” Austin sighed, causing Jane to punch him in the shoulder.

“This is my friend Arthur. He’s a dick, but he grows on you.” Jane displayed him like Vanna White, and the comments began to light up. “Oooo, the ladies like you, Arthur.”

“Hi, ladies,” Austin said shyly, waving a hand.

“Alright, we got a few songs for you guys, AND, Arthur is way better on the guitar than me. Ready?”

He nodded. “Let’s do it.”



“I mean,” Austin panted, chasing up the steps after Jane, “even when I listened to that song I thought of you guys. It’s a little on the nose.”

The song, Lullabies, was the last song they were covering, but Jane broke down, ended the live feed, and dashed up upstairs with her phone.

“Come in my room,” Jane whispered harshly with wide eyes.

Once the door clicked behind them, Jane plopped on her bed. “I’m still not over him, Aust.”

“No, no, no,” Austin waved his hands and paced. “I am not doing this again. Do you remember how things went last time?”

Jane waved a hand. “We were kids. I was fucked up. It’s different now.”

“I’m not doing it. You guys are going to have to work it out by yourselves.” Austin turned the knob of the door when Jane uttered a sentence that was too good for him to ignore.

“So, you think me inviting him out to dinner after we write is a bad idea?”

Austin released his well formed muscles and dropped his shoulders sighing. He wouldn’t look back at her. “I happen to think that’s a very good idea.” With that, he left the room, leaving her to devise her plan.

It wasn’t a great plan.

Jane put on a tank top, some frayed white shorts, topped with a hoodie that hung loosely on her arms. She also flipped her hair up and down and shook it with her fingers, attempting to recreate the same she had years ago. It’d never be the same – years of not brushing weren’t part of her routine anymore – but once satisfied, she tiptoed down the hall of bedrooms until she reached Rob’s door.

Knock knock. “Rob?”

Nothing.

Knock knock knock. “Rob? It’s J, I’m coming in….”

The door, unlocked, opened slowly, revealing Rob shirtless in bed. It the heat of the moment, it was hard to decipher if he was awake or not. But, Jane didn’t care.

God, he aged well.

“Hi,” she spoke, letting only a smirk show. “I, uh…I figured since we’re living together for the next few weeks it might be good for us to…you know, catch up?” Jane winced at her own words. “We can eat in the backyard, or find somewhere private, its up…” she felt like she’d been rambling for hours already. “Don’t need an answer now, sorry to barge in…I, I’ll see you downstairs later.”

Jane closed the door behind her and bolted back to her the safety of her bedroom, screaming into her pillow once diving into the bed.

Why was it so hard to talk to him now?

Of all the fantasies Jane had of the two of them seeing each other again, none of them included rambling like an idiot. This was obviously going to take a lot more than a tank top and a dinner to get over. The weirdness. And, Jane assumed, his hate for her. It be a mission, but god damn it, she was going to get Rob back, whether it was now or later.

“Rob…Rob? HEY!”

Rob jerked up on his seat—a velvet drummer’s throne which matched the rest of MAE’s aesthetic.

Caleb—or was it Calvin?—was bleating in his IEM. Mae’s lapdog and tour manager.

”Start the fuckin song,” he spat out. Rob could’ve sworn he felt it spray on him even through the earpiece.

Shrugging, he bent down to the iPad built into his kit and pressed the button marked ‘Faux Saints.’

Over the massive, four-story tours, the first few moments of the song began to play. In his ear, Rob could hear the metronome click-clacking away, counting in the guitarist and pianist about forty feet ahead of him. And ahead of them, he could faintly see Mae’s silhouette.

She was giving him a glare before turning back to the audience to raucous applause, cooing out the first few lines of the hit song.

As she began to sing, the stage lights plunged everyone into darkness except for Mae. She stood in a single, small spotlight–bathed in navy. Most of the song would play out this way, so Rob had about three and a half minutes before anyone could see him.

All of that in mind, he bent down and popped the valium he had been saving for this moment. He could hear the radio click on in his headset, but soon click off.

He knew Calvin wouldn’t call him out on it. He sold it to him.

***

After the set, Rob retreated silently into his dressing room.

He had a separate one from Mae–mostly because Mae’s herself had two of her own. One which was used and the other which was designed to be filmed in. Mae had given her full self into social media—making sure to plaster her name and image from anything from Maybelline ads to phone-in appearances with Fallon.

She was having her moment, definitely. From the start of the tour, the crowd only grew more feverous, and the paparazzi more violent. A few days ago, they had to arrange additional security for her, the guitarist, and the pianist.

Not for Rob, though.

Rob was the problem child during this tour. Rob “broke the illusion,” as the tour manager would say. Mae looked, dressed, and acted single. So having Rob–a run-of-the-mill California kid with a side band that looked comparatively tiny—hanging around Mae when she was in MAE mode hurt sales.

To her credit, Mae hadn’t ever really been mean about it. In fact, Rob had no doubts Mae was faithful to him and mostly in love with him. To be fair to her, it was hard to find time to cheat when you’re every waking moment is broadcasted and discussed by the various press teams that surrounded Rob every day.

Tonight, however, he heard a knock on his dressing room door, and saw a familiar brunette head pop in through the doorframe.

“You too busy?”

Rob looked angrily to the uninvited guest for a few moments, before the two of them burst out into simultaneous laughter.

“Fuck off and come in, K.” Rob shot back.

Kate was part-time assistant to Mae and part-time press manager for Rob. Most of the time, she was part-time assistant to Mae, because–let’s face it–Rob hadn’t even really needed a manager.

It was a call made by Mae at the behest of the accounting firm they used, which specified that it ‘helped with the year-end yield.’

Not that Rob minded. Kate was a tiny bundle of fire, and damn fun to be around. He handed her a beer as he cracked another one open.

“Are you old enough…?” he mocked, pointing to the beverage.

Kate was quick to roll her eyes and start drinking. After a sip, she continued on as if the comment never happened.

“I’ve got an interview for you. 15 minutes max. They want to talk life on the road, dating a pop star, and catch up on In Bloom.”

“I thought I told you I don’t do In Bloom interviews.”

“You did,” she said, pausing to drink, then continue: “So I told them not to ask you about In Bloom. But I’m asking you to start talking In Bloom with him.”

“And why would I do that?”

Kate laughed. “You need to cover for her, dude.”

Rob blinked hard, twice, in a futile effort to regain a bit of sobriety. “What did she—”

“Do you want to know?”

Rob thought for a moment.

“…can I get the short version?”

Kate sighed. “Well, the headline they told he they wanted to run was called ‘Jane’s Addiction,’ so if that tells you anything—”

“—I get it,” Rob shot back. “We’ll do a few questions at the end. Nothing on her. Only on the legacy and the big hits.”

Kate nodded, and tapped out a multi-paragraph text message in the blink of an eye. “You got it, boss.”

If Jane was here right now, he didn’t know if he’d punch her in the throat.

Or kiss her.

But what he did know is–despite the seething anger that would swell in him when someone mentioned her to him–he’d do what he could from a distance.

He didn’t want details. Details hurt. But when Kate mentioned Jane was ‘in the news,’ Rob would come out and mention In Bloom again. And thanks to the power of Mae and his proximity to her, it would always dominate the airwaves for long enough to provide that cover.

Every time he did so, he’d tell himself he’d never do it again. And every time Kate mentioned her, he’d fold like a paper tiger.

“This is the last time,” Rob said, with a feigned sense of finality in his voice.

“Yeah, boss,” Kate replied, eyes still on her phone, texting his interviewee. She barely hid the sarcasm from her tone. “The last time.”



A pounding noise at the door broke Rob from a weak sleep into a typical morning hangover.

Rob’s eyes cracked upon after he rubbed at his forehead for a moment. A familiar blonde form entered his room.

“Mmmma—” Rob started, before recognizing the form as Jane. And not his ex-wife.

“Mmm?” he uttered as quick as he could; raising his tone a bit and blinking himself awake.

”Nice save, dipshit,” he thought to himself. But thankfully, Jane didn’t seem to notice.

She was too busy…asking him to dinner?

Wait. What?

Before he could reply, Jane was quick to duck her small form back out of the room. He could hear her pattering footsteps enter her room. Then a faint, but slightly audible, muffled scream.

Rob then fell back into bed. He would deal with this shit when he was actually awake.

--

Around 11:30, Rob made a beeline for the basement, and finding the studio empty, immediately began to practice.

Was he avoiding Jane?

Probably. But he wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

Instead, Rob flew through his set of songs that kept him too pre-occupied to think. TRACK 1R by ’68 blasted through his headphones as he beat out the noisy fills.

Once that got old, he turned to a metalcore song with some aggressive drum fills to keep warmed up.

Realistically, he doubted any of this would be relevant for whatever Jane had been cooking up. But then again, after so long…what had she been thinking of bringing to the table?

Their old songwriting process used to be so simple. Someone (usually Jane, sometimes Sam) would come with a melody, and Austin and Rob would fiddle around with it. Eventually, the magic happened, and a song was born.

But now? He wasn’t even sure.

He had been so engrossed in his song that he nearly dropped his sticks when he heard a crude, distorted bass rip through his monitors, playing along with his beat.

He pulled out his monitors and looked up to see Austin. He looked almost pissed.

“Don’t stop, asshole,” Austin yelled out over the ringing cymbals. His glare was so sharp even Rob couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “I had something.”

“It wasn’t my beat,” Rob replied, but Austin simply shook his head.

“Then change it a little. Keep going.”

Rob thought for a moment, before turning back to his kit. He turned off the song in his monitors, leaving him only with him and Austin in the feed. He counted off in his head and opened with a simpler version of the same drum beat.

Immediately, Austin came back in with his new melody. Usually, Rob had known Austin to stick with the usual stuff—nothing fancy, but nothing easy either. Stuff that would usually develop out an idea Sam fiddled with before using his usual power cords.

This was different. Austin’s bass snarled and hissed under tearing stress of the aggressive chain Austin had set up. He played with Rob, usually, but would accentuate all the ‘wrong’ beats.

In short? It was primal, syncopated, and very different than anything Rob was used to.

So he improvised.

Rob pulled out a few aggressive fills before setting on something filled with ghost notes and accentuated beats. He would deliberate bend time around Austin’s notes—sometimes changing his accents to almost through Austin off.

The effect sounded more like a fight than a song, with Austin and Rob each moving the song ahead of the other person. It was somehow frightening without being too heavy, and the two continued to bounce it back and forth, back and forth, until a guitar joined the mix as well.

Looking up from his kit, Rob could see Sam, back in action, looking the least aged of all of them, trying out tones above the fray Austin and Sam were creating. And past them, he could see J—seated where she had last been just a day ago, which she had apologized.

Except now, in the midst of all of the noise they were creating, and with the four of them in the same room for the first time in ages, Rob couldn’t help but crack a smile as he looked to her. He ducked his head down, and they continued to jam out the idea for another few minutes before slowly grinding to a halt.

Reverb and feedback roared through the room as amps were slowly powered off. Rob reached down and pulled out a towel, wiping his head and ripping off the hat he had on.

“Well then,” Sam replied, “I guess that’s the warmup”

Jane slipped into the main room after that, and suddenly the work began.

--

Hours later, Rob tossed his sticks aside and rose from his seat. It had been a long, grueling session. A mix of old material, some played well, some played terribly, and new ideas jammed out and sorted.

No real song had come of the day’s session, and he wasn’t sure how the others felt, but as for Rob, the experience had been a challenge.

Some people may see getting back together and returning to an old bike, but for Rob, he felt very much out of practice. The music In Bloom often made wasn’t anything like what he had been playing for almost ten years since the end of the band. As he looked up during the session to Austin and Sam specifically, he saw a confidence he only wished he had. As for Jane? Unreadable, as always. Partially because he kept himself hidden from behind the kit, and partially because he tried hard not to think about her proposition.

Yet, when it was all said and done, and the session ended Austin seemed to pull Sam aside, leaving both him and Jane in each other’s line of sight.

Rob felt like a teenager again—self-conscious about the piles of sweat soaking his shirt and face. Still, as he caught his breath, he figured it was now or never.

“So,” Rob said between breaths, looking to J. “Dinner?”

He felt as if he should have regretted the words as soon as he said them, but in fact, he wasn’t sure how to feel.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

Jane staggered down the hallway of her and Rob’s apartment, her head pounding with each step from the previous night’s activities. The band, some friends, and members of the staff had gone out drinking, but soon it was just Jane and Rob left at a hole in the wall. He’d been suggesting they leave for a minute, but she wasn’t having it until she was too wasted to argue it.

As they walked out of the bar, they were slammed by flashing lights and men shouting their names. Jane instantly turned inward, and Rob put a protective arm around her, telling them something to the effect of “fuck off.” They were close to the edge of their line when one stuck a camera so close to Jane’s face that it grazed her eyelashes, and without a second thought, Jane swatted it. The camera, a very expensive looking at that, smashed into the ground. As the pieces scattered, Jane began to run, but the man grabbed a hold of her hair and used it to throw on the ground.

“That camera was worth more than your career, you whore!” the man yelled.

Jane was unsure what Rob did next as her eyes were squeezed shut. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound pleasant for the guy mourning his camera.

Now, the following morning, Jane entered the kitchen to see a nearly naked Rob preparing breakfast, but instead of taking a seat at the bar, she snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to break it, he just got so close and-“ She squeezed harder and pressed a kiss into his back, her voice tuning down to just a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”



Jane, wrapped in nostalgia, was barged in on by Austin who insisted they take a ride to the beach in the truck he rented. It only took a minute to convince her; daydreaming about Rob was only making her feel worse.

“Fine. But I’m not getting out.”

“That’s okay, bud,” Austin smiled, patting her head. “Let’s just get some fresh air, huh?”



Jane stared at the water in silence from the passenger window for what felt like hours, until the sound of Austin’s phone taking a photo made Jane freeze up. “What the fuck are you doing?” She snapped, grabbing the phone and examining the picture.

“Shit,” Austin sighed. “They still have you that fucked up, huh?”

After realizing her over reaction, Jane sighed through a chuckle and handed him back the phone. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“Look, I’m not gonna take Pennie’s Instagram away. But, I think it’s time that you put your life in your own words again instead of leaving it to the press.”

Jane’s chin rested on her knee as she stared out through the windshield. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it again. I bet even Sam still hates me, let alone the rest of the world.”

“Sam, I… Okay yeah. He and Harold still think you’re the cause of their financial downfall. But I’ll work on it.”

“And Rob?” Jane asked a bit too eagerly, embarrassing himself.

“He hasn’t mentioned you yet, J.”

“Please, Austin,” she begged, sincerity in her eyes. “I have no idea what he thinks of me. If he still hates me….or-or if he even thinks anything of me.” Admitting her own defeat, she looked back out to the Pacific. “I can’t read him anymore.”

Austin groaned. “I’ll tell you what. Let me make you this Instagram, and I’ll see what I can find out before your dinner. Okay?”

Jane smiled, throwing her arms around him. “Deal.”



Saying that Jane was distracted during the band’s writing session would be an understatement. Her eyes kept wandering to Rob who kept his focus on their task. This annoyed her immensely.

Austin sat with her for a bit and helped pick out some of the songs she had in a notebook that would work with the sound they were going for. Now with bands like Chelsea Wolfe out there, the acceptance of female fronted heavy bands had grown tremendously, and it was the perfect time for them to reenter the scene with force they once were. A lot of critics said that In Bloom had just been before their time, but she always thought that was bullshit.

“I’m pretty sure this one is TikTok dance material,” Austin joked, earning him an elbow in the stomach. “But really. These are good, we can work with them.”

Jane’s face lit up. Maybe she hadn’t lost it after all.

“We’ll start working on some songs, then we’ll get you in for melodies and go from there.” The rest of the writing session was dedicated to the musicians, Jane giving her input when needed. Once wrapped up, she scurried over to Austin as he was exiting the room.“Anything yet?” she whispered.

“Haven’t had the chance.”

Sam filed out after him, not bothering to look at Jane at all. Ouch.

Jane's eyes were burning a hole into the floor, until Rob snapped her out of her pity party.

“So,” Rob said between breaths. “Dinner?

She wanted to squeal like a teenager, but instead held back her smile as much as she could and nodded. "Yes. Let me cook for you. 7pm."



Jane would have been bored in the room if it wasn’t for the dreaded outfit choice. What said, “I know I’m your junkie ex-girlfriend you probably hoped to never see again, but here I am trying to wine and dine you into loving me again?”

And, she brought just the outfit.

No word from Austin, and if she didn’t start cooking now, dinner wouldn’t be ready by 7:00pm. She was going in blind. Jane made up an excuse as to why they weren’t going out to eat – something about reservations – but the actuality of it was much more complex.

Being away from her bubble was bringing not only feelings for Rob back, but all sorts of old feelings. The chance of being swarmed by the paparazzi was low, due to their just recent return back to the music scene, but with Rob and his famous ex-wife, it wasn’t gamble she was willing take.

No, this night needed to go perfectly. And her having a mental breakdown over photos being taken wasn’t in that plan. Instead, Jane prepared a chicken dish with asparagus, rice, paired with a red wine for Rob, and a cold water for herself.

Right around seven, before he could even get a word out, Jane rushed him to the backyard patio and told him to sit. The food and drinks were ready for them on the table, along with the firepit burning to keep them warm during the chilly evening.

Before sitting down, Jane twirled around to show off the tie-dye dress she was wearing. “Do you remember this thing? I found it in my closet and had to bring it.” Smirking as she watched Rob, she brought her hands to the straps delicately. “I probably fill it out much better than I did back then.”

Jesus, tone it down.

Jane took her seat and began to cut her food. “I hope its okay. I didn’t become a chef in my time off, but I’ve learned to make a few things. “Oh,” Jane smirked, grabbing a joint from behind her ear. It’d been covered by the hair she successfully teased into looking like she was nearly a 23-year-old rockstar again. “Not sure if you still smoke but, I…I rolled this for us.” Her smirk turned to a look of pleading, but instead of mentioning anything else, she allowed Rob to eat his food, holding back the barrage of questions she had for him. “I, uh, it’s been so weird to see you. To be here. But thanks for agreeing to dinner with me.”

Once he made a good dent into the dish, Jane cleared her throat. “So, I want to hear everything. Where are you living? How is being a studio musician? God, what’s it like to be a father?”

The pain of announcing he was a dad was quick, and Jane blinked it away. It could have been us.

The plan they made was to come back home from tour, regain monogamy, and start over. And God, was it good at first. Jane had never been happier, but nothing could fill the void like getting fucked up did. It was her fault she was alone and confined in her home at almost 33, and Rob got to live a life of love and experience in her absence.

Would he even like who she was now?

Jane grew timid. Tired. Scared of the world. Jaded. And that wasn’t who he fell in love with all those years ago. Looking at Rob, a matured, successful Rob in front of her…it was terrifying. It was almost like she stayed in Neverland and he grew up without her. But, why bring up the past right now when they could just catch up?

“Through the grapevine, I heard she’s a very pretty little girl,” Jane nodded, trying to get down the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t dare mention Mae, solely from the fact that she didn’t want to hear anything about her. She assumed Rob felt the same. “Does she want to play drums like Daddy?”

Rob wasn’t sure if it was the music, the alcohol, or J who had caused the blistering, pulsing headache trickling down the nape of his neck and into his chest, but at this point, he was convinced it was some amalgamation of the three.

Rob stared, dead-eyed down at his boots—his forehead mounted at the edge of the bar, and his barstool kicked out far enough to allow for such a position. His arms, still on the bar, grasped at the drink he had been toying with for the past 30 minutes.

Behind him, J was drunkenly ‘networking’ with some punk band who played a 15-minute cover set at whatever bar they were currently in. He had called Ubers for Austin, Sam—fuck, even Sam’s Dad Harold—something like an hour ago. Even Lyla had popped in and out to say hello.

It was fun, at one point in the evening. The In Bloom crew and friends had claimed a C-shaped booth in the corner; poking good fun at the punk band as they awkwardly thumbed their way through discount Creed tracks. A few patrons came over to take photos, but instead they were thrust into the open space in the booth—joining the band for just a few minutes, sharing stories, obfuscating the third loop of an all-too-short Spotify playlist polluting the atmosphere through speakers nearby.

The fans would come and go, and eventually, the group atrophied down to just Rob and J yet again. Just as Rob had convinced J it was time to turn it in, another fan slipped past.

And about an hour later, here he was, counting scratches on the bar floor, making meaningless notes on what he saw. A few notches ripped out of the wooden board of the bar. Homophobic slurs crudely etched into the wood paneling on the floor. A pair of ratty Doc Martens belonging to the woman on his left, who spoke too loudly and closely to him and smelled a little like a mall in Orange County…

Suddenly a bump came to his back, and his head shot back up into reality. Jane had come by, grabbing onto his jacket. She slurred something out about sex in the living room and gripped the back of his head for support. She pulled in for a kiss, but he quickly hugged her instead—raising her small frame up and motioning for the bartender to close out their tab.

They didn’t say much over the music—mostly Jane loaned her bodyweight to him as he waited for his credit card—but he could tell she was a few misplaced steps away from puking wells all over the floor.

He practically balked at the four-digit tab she had run up, but signed it anyway, passed a hundred to the bartender for the trouble, and moved the two of them towards the door.

“J, please stop buying rounds for everyone,” he said, taking a lighter tone. “Or we’ll have to put out a Christmas record.”

Outside, the familiar deluge of shutters and flashes littered them. He threw as much of his jacket over Jane’s face as possible, trying to maneuver them through the crowd and towards the pedestrian walkway. Just two blocks and they’d be at the security checkpoint outside of their apartment complex. Sanctuary.

Then, in a blur, a camera smashed, and Jane was ripped out from under him. He watched her smash—too hard—into the concrete below. He locked eyes with the paparazzo responsible after his ‘whore’ comment.

Maybe it was his five-foot-five frame compared to Rob’s or just the realization that he was about to learn a thing or two about consequences, but his expression melted into fear when Rob looked into him.

After about a second of debating whether he wanted to deal with the colossal dressing down he would get from their PR manager about assault in the streets, he made his call.

You know, for a guy who sounded so tough, he didn’t make it three hits. Rob heard his nose crack under his fist and after a second, he too was on the ground.

Without stopping, he picked Jane up, plopped her on her feet, and moved forward.

The paparazzi split like the red sea after that.

This was how nights seemed to end for Rob these days. Vague distain for Jane’s antics, picking up tabs, cleaning up messes.

He wouldn’t think it sober, but in this state, he wondered how long he’d put up with it.



That night, however-many-years ago, flashed through Rob’s mind as he felt Jane’s small hands push him forward, outside, towards the patio.

Out here, she had set up everything perfectly.

She had insisted on cooking that night for them, which had been the first moment to catch Rob off-guard. Even now, a decade later, he had almost instinctually shot out his usual “I’vegotitdon’tworry” he would say to her when she typically offered. Although, of course, after so long, perhaps it was misleading to refer to it as his ‘usual.’

He watched her show off her dress, and while she was undeniably beautiful in it, his mind wandered to the shorts and simple shirt he had put on. ’Shit, J, I was I had gotten the memo,’ he thought to himself.

But even then, he couldn’t help but stare.

“I remember it,” he said, and meant it. It was hard to forget. It was one of those dresses she had pulled out during a daytrip to Ventura. He remembered he said he wasn’t a fan; to which Jane had enthusiastically insisted: You will be.

She was right then, and right now. She filled it out beautifully.

He turned his attention to the food; making sure to try each part of the dish out first. And what could he say? It was good! Especially compared to the pasta nights Jane had previously been the Queen of.

It sort of felt like—at least, for the first time in a bit—they were meeting again for the first time. The past day or so here had been together, sure, but something Rob had dearly missed, and something he had forgotten, was that he was comfortable around her.

It was a nice feeling, however brief it may have been.

“Elle is incredible—my daughter,” he started, before wondering if J already knew Elle’s name. “No drums, not yet. But she’s brilliant. We were having full arguments about the quality of her favorite show when she was three. I think she’ll end up trying out for tennis. There’s the one show she loves where the main character is the captain of her high school tennis team, and she’s all about that. I think Mae is gonna have her try out for the swim team but—”

Rob stopped himself. Half for mentioning Mae, and half for realizing just how much he was venting out. It was almost like he wanted to get past the catch-up period as quick as possible.

Only, that’s going to mean going into the whole Mae situation. And he couldn’t imagine how that felt on Jane’s end.

“Sorry, I could go on all day about her,” Rob said. “What they tell you is true. About kids? Holding my daughter for the first time was surreal. I’ve done a lot of shit in my time, but that? Yeah…that shook me.”

Instead of looking up, he buried his head and thought for a second. Very relatable conversation, he chastised himself. Talk all about kids to your ex-girlfriend without kids. Good move.

It was hard to get the words right, tonight. But words were clearly failing. There was so much that happened. And so much that happened after that. It was daunting to even try to cross that chasm with J.

“It’s been a, uh—” Rob started. He took a sip of wine and continued: “It’s been weird, you know? Washington’s cool, I like it. Weather can suck, but I’m Californian, so I’m used the endless summers.”

He lit the joint J had shared, took a deep drag, and passed it to her. “Tell me about you, please.”

He prayed it would calm his nerves.

Watching Rob speak about his daughter - no, Elle - was similar to watching a child explain their current hobby. His eyes lit up. His words came easy and calm, almost like a lullaby that had Jane entranced. The anxiety she developed over making eye contact during conversation seemed to have blow away with the cool breeze that occasionally whipped through the backyard.

Jane pulled the cardigan she brought out with her over her freckled shoulders, but her goosebumps didn’t last long.

He had crows feet now. A newer small scar near his ear. His smile, it glowed as if he had figured it out. Cracked the code to happiness.

There were never doubts that Rob would be a phenomenal dad. Taking care of Jane in her hay days aside, he always possessed the qualities that Jane imagined her father had when she was a little girl. Strong, smart, talented, but behind all the logic and structure - the softest heart. Jane had a hold of it once.

But as Rob went on about Elle, the pain began to settle. Like when you don’t feel the bruise you got on your ass skateboarding until a few hours later.

The what-ifs, and this time, they ricocheted like bullets around her brain. What if I never went down that path? What if our relationship stayed as happy as it was? Would we have a family?

And at of the mention of Mae’s name, all of her feelings came out in a single tear that crept out of her left eye. When Rob put his head down, she blotted it with her sleeve.

“Oh, please don’t apologize,” she chuckled, clearing her throat. “I’m happy for you…completely. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk that way about anything before.”

It wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little…right? Just to lighten the mood.

“Not even when you were mine.”

Instead of waiting for a reaction, Jane popped up to grab both plates and Rob’s glass. “Let me top you off first.”

Once in the kitchen, Jane set the plates in the sink and bit her finger. Things are going well. Things are going well.

In a flash, Jane was back in her seat puffing on the joint. “Well, where do I begin?” She smirked.

“The third time was truly the charm with, uh, all that shit. Five years clean now, besides this” she held the joint in the air before passing it back to Rob. “In one of my strung out manic moments, I bought a big cabin up in Crescent City and uh, it came in handy. After all the press and your band I-“

Jane swallowed. “And a shitty relationship, I’ve been holed up there since.” She smiled, her eyes drifting as she thought about home. “It’s quiet. My 3 friends are an old married couple and gay Steve. The rest of the people ‘sides the crew I surf with either have no idea who I am, or do and stay clear of me.”

Realizing how pathetic it sounded aloud, Jane sighed and shook her head. “But it’s good for me, ya know. No cable, no internet. Just the woods. LBC probably had a parade when I finally left town and I can’t really say I miss it but, It gets…lonely,” for the first time in what felt like minutes, Jane’s eyes broke from his. “But my track records not so great when it comes to being a girlfriend, yeah?” She chuckled, hoping he wouldn’t take her seriously, even though it was the truth. “And with that free time, I mastered yoga, finally learned the guitar, and even keep the house clean. And in a few days, it’s the big 3-3.”

Jane desperately scrambling to keep herself financially afloat until the larger checks came in didn’t seem like dinner table talk.

“I know the past was messy, and-and wild and fucked up. I would do so many things over if I could but,” she sighed, taking another second to take in his eyes, “but while we’re here, I wanna write with you again. We, uh, we used to write some really good shit. But, I have to get used to grown up daddy Rob. After all these years, no matter what billboards or articles I saw, when I thought of you, I still imagined you looked like when I last saw you.”

She was getting off track.

“I just want us to be…cool.”

If cool meant Rob confessing he was still in love with her and carrying her into his room, then she wasn’t lying.

“I’ve missed you, a lot. Relearning life without you next to me almost felt like another 12 step.”

Woah there. Divert.

“So, even though I don’t deserve it, can we be friends while we’re here?”

Rob watched Jane intently as she spoke.

Somewhat selfishly, he had to admit it felt good to pass the microphone. After all, how do you summate ten years? And to someone who knew your heartbeat better than anyone else?

Rob had exes, of course. But something was different about Jane. Jane wasn’t Mae, who filled him with brimming distain and inadequacy all the same. Jane was his best friend.

After all these years, once you shook the cobwebs off, and once you get out of your own head, talking to J was like taking to your own subconscious.

It felt like a limb he hadn’t moved in a decade, or a song he hadn’t played in a long time. It was comfortable, but it flickered—wavered in the air, as he and J seemed to struggle to get the needle back into its groove.

”Not even when you were mine,”

The words dissipated in her wake as she slipped away before he could even process them. Mine.

He used to belong to someone.

Of course he did—he had before—but something about the past several years aloe had lulled him into a false autonomy. He had been a machine, recently. His tasks were to play music, make money, and be there for Elle. Not in that order.

Living for Elle was easy. It came naturally, whether primal or deeply ingrained. He never doubted it and it was simple.

But being someone else’s was different. And a feeling he had to admit rocked him as he considered it.

As J described rehab and sobriety, Rob felt a pang of anxiety shoot through him. Whether she smoked or not, he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad about the wine and the joint.

But it was probably his realization that he hadn’t gone two days sober off of everything in longer than he could remember. He stuffed the thought down. Not important.

“Crescent City?” he couldn’t help but repeat. All the way up there? “You’re closer to me than Long Beach.”

Images of J surfing on the coast rushed through his head. The jagged peaks that rose higher and higher on the north-end of the state, almost into Oregon. The Douglas firs that littered the area, the smell of endless Christmas like the Cascades in his own back yard…

They both had retreated, in their own way, Rob soon realized.

But it was her sobriety that filled him with joy most of all.

He honestly couldn’t say how often he had to be there for her in that downward spiral. How much puke he cleaned off of their bedsheets and walls. The strangers in their home when he got home too early for her to shoo them away. Entire evenings where she’d be comatose on the couch—sometimes crying, other-times a million miles away. She had asked him what month it was, at one point.

The thought of all of that being a distant memory; a healing wound, opened up something in him.

He listened to the rest of her story, and her requests. But it was the sobriety that he kept thinking on.

“Wow, J,” he started, already regretting his tone. It sounded like he was going to break her. He powered past it and hoped he didn’t notice. “Five years. Holy shit.”

It took her three tries—something he didn’t want to consider. But she did it. He had thought so from the moment he saw her yesterday but needed that confirmation.

“That is so incredibly cool. And I mean that in the…the fuckin’ heaviest sense of the word…I’m really proud of you—”

The final three words choked in his mouth as hot tears rushed to his face. The words came out shaken and finally stopped coming at all. For a moment, everything boiled over; crashing into him at full-speed.

Why was he crying?

He took a second, looked away, and wiped his eye with his sleeve.

“Sorry, woah,” he feebly attempted to play it off. “Don’t know where that came from.”

He feigned a laugh, took a deep breath, and continued.

“I’m really happy for you, and—and that sounds incredibly nice. I wish I’d spent 33 surfing. I spent a lot of it gigging out for rich kids and figuring out some iPhone game Elle was obsessed with. My greatest achievements included finally buying Rogaine and getting into the Emerald League for Winky Think’s Puzzle Master.”

Scrambling through what she had said, he remembered her mention the billboards, and the band, and couldn’t help but blush. He wanted desperately to apologize for what was probably a horrendous year of seeing your ex plastered all over everything with his new girlfriend, but there wasn’t a way of mentioning it that didn’t make him want to die.

“I try to keep a low profile these days. It’d be nice to live somewhere where people didn’t ask me how much I got out of my divorce or if I signed a prenup or not.”

He took a deep breath.

“I missed you too,” he said, before he could even consider whether he should say it or not.

“—and everyone, and all the…you know what I mean.”

The anxiety was just burning at this point.

“But I missed you, and…we’re cool.”

Ten years of conflict and some deeply buried resentments were gone. At least in this moment.

They would undoubtably come back, once dinner ended. Maybe when they discussed that infamous night. And maybe, when the nostalgia wore off and the reality remained that this was still the woman—his best friend—who cut him so deeply and painfully he left.

He can still remember the throbbing pain of his bare feet slicing on the litter of their street as he marched–fourteen blocks in a tear-stricken rage to the nearest bus stop.

But right now, that was a lifetime ago.

Right now, it was nice to catch up with his best friend again.

“Hey, you two!”

Rob’s head whipped over to the sliding glass door of the home, where Austin’s head was poking out. Behind him, Sam was laughing about something.

“I know you’re having a moment but we’re getting in that pool. Unlike Rob, some of us don’t have nice private pools to swim in every day.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rob shot back. He looked to J. He wanted back in the moment, but it was fading fast.

He looked down to his now-clean plate, and back up to her. “That was…so much better than pasta night, by the way. Seriously, thank you.”

He stood up and began to collect both his and J’s plates, before gesturing to the far-too-nice pool in question. “Want to swim?”

His mind wandered to the hot tub, then to J, but he shut it down quickly.

After all, they had just gotten back on good terms for the first time in a decade. Maybe that was enough progress for one night.

Watching Robs emotions as Jane explained her sobriety was like an opera - you didn’t have to understand the words, his face told all. And at first, Jane saw pain. She knew she hurt him, but fuck, ten years later and it still looked like it stung. Was it really just the heroin that killed him this much?

But he was proud of her, and hearing him saying it felt her body with a warmth, a calm. She never knew how well hidden she’d kept herself, or if Rob was ever really looking for her in the meantime. Or if she had been written off as a rough memory from the past, one you no longer bring up when telling stories.

”But I missed you, and…we’re cool.”

A true smile cracked across Jane’s face, the one that got her the Julia Roberts comments. “Cool.”

The moment of peace between them cooled off almost immediately as Austin and Sam dove into the pool, splashing around like boys at a hotel.

Jane couldn’t explain it, but Rob’s request felt so…innocent. The manor he asked if felt like it could have been said to anyone. In her fantasies of their true first night back talking, he’d be carrying her bridal style into the hallway by now.

And it that moment, she realized her and Rob were on very different pages. Hell, maybe different planets. Rob still cared for her, but it wasn’t in the way that Jane hoped, and she knew she’d have to deal with that.

But not now.

“Actually,” Jane cleared her throat, “I volunteered to call Evan and uh, getting close to bed time.”

It was 8:15. At home, she’d be fully moisturized, in bed, with her cat curled up next to her.

“But thanks for hearing me out. Have fun, yeah?”

Without turning around, Jane grabbed her water bottle and headed back into the house, closing the sliding door behind her and retreating down the hall.

Twenty-four year old Jane would be drunk by now, probably making a scene about her feelings. But, if she was going to prove to the world she wasn’t the addicted, distressed has-been that she assumed everyone thought she was, she’d have to prove it to her band mates first. And Rob. Specifically Rob.

The call went smoothly with Evan, assuring him the band is getting along just fine and writing together was beginning to click again. He asked when he’d have a song, and in a panic, Jane responded with a quick “tomorrow night!”

Shit.

Before sinking in the tub, Jane hit send on a group message to the guys.

Jane 9:30: so, Evan wants a song by tomorrow night. I have lots of lyrics ready to go. Let’s get together 8 am tomorrow?



Jane’s stripped version of Pornostartrek hurt as she sang it. She remembered telling Rob they’d play it at their wedding one day.

With a few quick strums, she ended the song. “Alright guys, thanks for sticking with me for another early morning live.” Jane sighed and put her acoustic guitar down. “Usually, I’d just sign out…but today’s the day I tell you guys the secret.”

The comment section began to light up, everyone making their guesses. She saw her name once or twice and smiled.

First the glasses came off, then the hood.

“For you younger kids, I’m from that old band that keeps playing on the radio. And for those of you who might know, yes,” Jane held her arms out, revealing herself symbolically, “it’s me, Jane Molloy.”

She thought it was best at this point to stop reading the comments.

“In Bloom is making its resurgence, and hopefully, you’ll be seeing more of me without a disguise.” Jane bit her lip, planning what to say next. “Austin made me a real Instagram, it’s @janemolloyofficial. As for this account…”

Jane took a deep breath.

“It’s time to move on. For those of you who know me, I’m sure the name Pennie now makes -“

Jane heard footsteps coming down the carpeted stairs, and in a panic, Jane grabbed her phone.

“Well,” she whispered. “It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? See you guys soon. Love you.”

Jane ended her live feed, cramming the phone in her pocket and rushing to the round meeting table in one of the studios side rooms. Plopped in front of her writing journal, she started to flip through the pages, hoping whoever was descending didn’t hear her confession.

She flipped to a song she thought would be good, pulled her hoody back up, and tucked her arms around her. Real casual.

“But thanks for hearing me out. Have fun, yeah?”

“Of course! See you tomorrow?” Rob shot out instinctually. He contemplated saying more before it was too late—J was inside, the door slid shut.

For a moment, Rob was frozen. Instinctually—almost without thinking—he wanted to go after her. Things slid into place in a funny way, this night. A decade ago he’d be off with J, having a some sort of spur-of-the-moment evening, before waking up the next morning and getting hangover breakfast with Austin and Sam before J was even up the next morning.

But he hadn’t done that in years.

Truth be told, being here felt like being out of time. It felt like playing pretend at some moments—like he was at a tabletop gaming session with old friends, playing like they used it.

Other times, it felt like a lifetime ago. Like he was acting out something a past version of him experienced before reincarnating.

He’d think more on it later tonight, he was sure, but a beach ball pelting him in the head snapped him right out of his trance.

“Hey dipshit, get in the pool,” Austin called out as Rob bent down, snatched the ball, and chucked it back at him. Both of them were in the pool now—drinks in hand.

Rob took one last look at the home, towards J, before pulling his shirt off, tossing his phone and wallet to the side, and jumping in.

--

Day turned to night quickly as the three caught up on a myriad of issues.

Rob was familiar with Austin’s teaching in Phoenix, but it was nice to hear more from Sam. The two hadn’t been incredibly close during the heyday of In Bloom, but it was nice to hear he was just as he remembered him—still gigging around LA county, making a modest living for himself, floating free as the wind, as he always had.

After about thirty minutes, Rob slipped inside to grab a few handles of whiskey, and the night went from there.

“You were fucking that bassist, I know it!” Sam slurred out from halfway across the pool. They were illuminated by moonlight at this point, and Rob was swaying near the hot tub, pouring his sixth (eighth?) jack and coke.

“I wasn’t, you know that, asshole,” Rob called out. After finishing his pour, he slipped in at the shallow end and re-joined the other two. “I was bitching about J, we were in a park, they took pictures, it was a whole thing.”

Austin cut in at this point. “That doesn’t help your case, Pennie.”

“I don’t care! I don’t care,” Rob shot back. He took a big swig and continued. “I’d tell you if we fucked, it was forever ago, I don’t have a reason to lie.”

“But J and Andy though—” Sam started.

“Yes? No? No idea, ask her,” Rob muttered out. God, what time was it? “Are we 20 again? Who cares if she did?”

“You do, obviously,” Sam pressed on. Austin seemed to notice the tonal shift.

“Leave it, Sam,” he interjected. “The fuck happened to them, anyways?”

“What, Vicarious?” Rob asked. “I think they did a few albums and split after that, same old shit.”

He reached over to the Bluetooth speaker and changed it to an old Live song while Austin thought for a moment.

“Huh,” he started, “I could have sworn they were touring.”

“Not when I was in LA for Mae,” Rob responded, matter-of-factly. Before of course, realizing what he mentioned. “Before you—”

“Oh please, like you had time to check in on Vicarious during your world tour.” Sam moved forward towards Rob. “You didn’t have time to check in on me.”

“I was busy,” Rob shot back. “And miserable. I figured you knew about that? Every fucking tabloid had ‘Pennie For Your Thoughts’ sections rambling on about how miserable we were.”

Austin started to move towards them. “Guys, maybe let’s not—”

“It’s fine, really,” Sam said. “I was scraping together rent money after you and J imploded the band. Probably wouldn’t have had time for a dinner.”

Rob downed his drink and leaned towards Sam. “Is this really what you want to go on about? I’m divorced and miserable. This story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam stopped about a foot from Rob and eyed him. “You poor miserable millionaire. It must be demeaning to have to come back to us.”

“Sam, cool it.” Austin interjected himself between Rob and Sam, but at this point in the night, Rob pushed Austin aside and approached Sam. This time, Sam was backing up.

“Yeah, Sam. I’m a millionaire. I’m set for life. I get more money from my Mae royalties every month than I ever got from In Bloom. Big fucking deal. Does that make you hate me?”

“I don’t give a shit how much money you have,” Sam replied. He stopped backing up and the two stood too close to one another. “I’m a little annoyed that you two had to fuck up everything we had together to get there.”

Rob froze at that comment. Sam and Rob eyed each other for a minute, and the air became very still.

From behind Rob, a voice called out: “8 am call time!”

After another moment, Rob broke eye contact and looked at Austin, who was standing outside the pool and pointing at his phone.

“8 am call time,” he repeated. “Jane just texted us. We need a song demoed tomorrow. You two want to drop this?”

Without looking back, Rob hopped out of the pool. “Then I’m going to bed,” he called out, and grabbed a towel to try himself off.

Austin again stepped forward. “Look, we’ve had a bit to drink, maybe we just forget this—”

“Way ahead of you, teach,” Rob interrupted, his voice searingly dry. “See you boys tomorrow. Can’t wait to rock and roll!”

With that, the sliding glass door opened and slammed behind him before Sam and Austin could say another word.

--

Rob didn’t remember much after that. His next clearest memory was the buzzing iPhone at this nightstand and the raging headache pounding at his head.

“Godfuckingdammit,” he muttered to himself. Sometime last night, he set his alarm for 6—not 8. He quickly opened up Uber and threw on sweatpants and a T-Shirt.

Within ten minutes, he was seated in the backseat of a Prius, nursing his head, watching Chino Hills fade into suburbia as his driver took him down to the nearest Rite Aid.

“Fun night?” his driver asked; her voice almost quivering.

Rob looked up into the rearview mirror to get a better look at his driver. She was young; looking no older than 20. If he had to bet, she was Ubering before classes at some local college. He tried to hide his disappointment as she made brief eye contact with him. She recognized him, and he knew it.

“Oh yeah,” he said, using what little remained of his energy to sound excited. “I haven’t been in town in a while so I’ve been catching up with old friends.”

She seemed to nearly vibrate at the statement. “Y-you wouldn’t happen to be the In Bloom drummer, right?”

Rob smiled, and the next ten minutes were filled with the usual question-and-answer portion of this sort of conversation. He quickly informed her he wouldn’t do a photograph, which she seemed saddened by, but he tried to answer every question he could.

Soon enough, she ran him through the Rite Aid drive thru, then the McDonalds drive thru next door, and they had returned back to the hillside mansion.

“..I can’t wait to hear what you guys make,” she continued, as she put the car in park.

Rob gathered his Pedialyte and burgers and opened the door. “I think it’s some of our best stuff yet, so far.”

He said a quick goodbye and slipped back into the house.

As soon as the door closed, he slipped back into his room and locked the door behind him. He took the next hour to inhale his food, chug the Pedialyte, and shower off everything from the night before.

But he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness at the experience.

She called him ‘the In Bloom dummer,’ not ‘Mae’s Ex.’

--

Heading down into the basement and finally feeling sober, he heard J’s voice, muffled, in the walls.

Is that what song I think it is?

As he started taking the steps, however, the music faded, and by the time he opened the door, there was no one at a guitar. Just J, in the side room, reading.

Funny. He could have sworn he heard…

…

…nevermind.

“Hey hey,” he called out to her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You look like you got way better sleep than I did.”

He started to walk away, but as soon as J looked up and the two made eye contact, he froze.

She gave him that look.

That look.

The look she’d give him when he got home from the grocery story, and she turned to face him through the balcony window, cigarette between her lips. Or when she’d wake up, and he’d be at their doorframe, brushing his teeth, watching her wake.

The look he got when they had movie night—her head on the arm of the couch on one side, her feet spilled into his lap under a blanket on the other, their eyes on one another and not the screen. The look she gave him when he slipped past her in the kitchen, his hand gently cupping the small of her back as he moved past the narrow spaces.

It was impossible to explain. Truly, it was. For Christ’s sake—all she did was look up.

But something…burned in him in this split-second moment. It wasn’t how she was yesterday. Was it?

Something in the way she was, right now, in this exact moment, was different.

Something in her eyes flickered in just the way they did when she was his.

For the first time, in a really, really long time…he felt loved again.

…

From his chest, he could feel a rush of blood. He turned quickly, heading for his rubber practice pad, not entirely sure if he was blushing yet or not. He plopped down on the ground and started up a few rudiments. He tried to angle his head down as his face radiated bright heat towards the carpet.

What was happening?

Sam popped in a moment later and Rob almost gasped at the sound of it. He said ‘hey’ to Jane and moved to his guitar.

Reality snapped back into focus. Rob waited for he and Sam to be out of sight of J, before giving Sam a thumbs up sign and a questioning look. Truce?

Sam hesitated for a moment, before nodding quickly and grabbing his Gibson.

That would have to do for now in terms of a truce.

But his mind was elsewhere, and his heart was beating again.

Was it possible to recognize a person by their footsteps?

Jane didn’t need to look up to know Rob was the one who arrived second, taking a spot at the table along with her.

“You look like you got way better sleep than I did.”

Jane smirked and met his eyes. She needed to stop singing the songs that brought up memories of their relationship, because right then, that was all she could ponder.

Did he kiss the same? Or still talked in his sleep when he drank too much? Did he still hum while doing chores?

Did Mae ever gently place her hands over Rob’s to stop him from drumming on the table, like Jane did?

But those thing didn’t matter any more, did they? Rob wasn’t in love with Jane any longer. They were…’cool.’ But that was just enough for her heart to hold onto.

However, in that moment, she would hop onto the desk and scramble to him if she could.

“I’m still working off the sleep deficit I racked up in my twenties.”

Jane’s stare was ripped away from Rob as Sam, then Austin filed in and took their seats. It was funny, they all sat with empty space in between them, like strangers in an airport terminal. Austin was closest to Jane, and she reached a hand which he slapped goofily.

Sam was the first to speak up. “So we need a demo done. Let’s get started on-“

“Actually,” Jane piped in, with about 75% less confidence that she did in their meetings a decade ago, “I have a song. Melody, harmonies. If you guys don’t mind…”

She looked to Austin, who nodded for her to continue.

“It goes like -“ Jane pulled her legs up to criss cross, then closed her eyes.

“Knew karma would catch up to me one day,
in her way,”

Jane’s voice had matured with age, growing in texture and depth. Her natural rasp had become more pronounced with extra years of smoking, but she was still able to glide through runs with ease. She was singing quietly, but the song itself was one she wanted to belt on the record. And maybe one day, on stage.

“She said she’d take him away,
but I didn’t believe,”

A few more bars went by - Jane didn’t dare open her eyes.

“Now when I sleep, it’s all alone…”

Jane popped an eye open, then another before quickly closing her book and taking a breath. “Then you know, repeat chorus, blah blah blah.”

“It could work,” Sam huffed begrudgingly, “I might want to change some things.”

This wasn’t the battle Jane wanted to win with him, so she nodded with a smile. “Totally fine.”

“Alright then, boys,” Austin stood, grabbing his case. “We got a song to write. You’ll be back when?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jane scratched her head “I, uh, gotta call my sponsor then my therapist is calling around noon. Let me know when you’re ready for me to record, I should be done by one.”

Austin nodded, giving his approval and shooing her up the stairs.



After explaining how the fantasy Jane had created of uniting with Rob didn’t go quite as planned, both her sponsor and therapist came to the same conclusion: move on.

“I’m just worried it’d rock the boat with him.”

“Why would it?” Dr. Mickal responded on the other line. “If it doesn’t seem like Rob has these feelings for you, why limit yourself?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“We want to get you back to the old Jane right? Not the partying Jane, but the one that was outgoing, fun, bold. I know she’s still in there.”

Jane chuckled. “I’m not so sure.”

“You said you know lots of people in LA, yes?” the doctor asked.

Jane groaned. “Yes.”

“Set up a date for yourself. An old friend, someone you think you may have a spark with. Get out of that house and loosen up a bit.”

Jane sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll make a call.”

“Good, same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”



Jane descended the stairs as quietly as possible to find Austin watching the studio room through the glass. It looked like Rob was tracking drums while Sam fiddled with the knobs and levers in the booth.

“He has no idea what he’s doing,” mumbled Austin, turning to Jane. “Why the smile?”

“I have a date tonight,” Jane bit her lip, containing a smile.

“This is major!” Austin exclaimed, but Jane instantly shushed him with a punch to the arm. “Sorry, sorry. Hasn’t it been years? Who is it? Oh my god, are you gonna get laid?!”

“Re-lax, breathe,” Jane chuckled. “It’s Jared, that guy whose house we stayed at in AZ that one time.”

“Ah, the one with the sister Rob fucked.”

Jane shot daggers with her eyes, but he only responded by sticking his tongue out. “Yes, that one. He moved to LA a couple years ago with his band. Sober. I think it’ll be nice.”

“And…”

“I’m not ready for that. God, I don’t even know what I’d do if he tried to kiss me,” Jane continued to whisper, thinking aloud more than speaking to Austin. “God, I’m nervous.”

“You’re really not gonna try for Rob, huh?” Austin remarked, keeping his eyes on what was happening beyond the window.

“I…I don’t think I have a choice, Aust. I’ll always be in love with him but, waiting around hasn’t done me any good, and,” Jane swallowed a lump in her throat, “it’s time to move on.”

“You always listen to your therapist but not me.”

Moments later, Rob came through the door and Sam called for Jane, letting her know it was time for her to record. She ripped the sheet from her notebook and rushed to the stool set up in front a mic obviously set up for vocals.

“Let’s just test the sound,” Sam began through the microphone from the equipment booth. “Then, do your thing.”

Jane looked to Austin through the glass, who was saying something to Rob, but gave her a big thumbs up when he saw. She then looked to Rob and tried her best attempt at a smile before turning to Sam. “Ready when you are.”

Jane’s eyes were closed, but Rob still felt intrinsically like it was best to look away.

His heart pounded in his chest and his face felt flushed. Between the moment he felt just a few minutes ago and J’s voice—rising, weathered and wise over the soft hum of the A/C—he felt like he could almost die.

Now when I sleep, it’s all alone…

Sam had notes—he always had notes—but Rob didn’t bother to listen to them. He set his eyes on Sam and tried not to sweat until Jane slipped out. After her footsteps faded out to nothing, he took a deep breath.

Then looked around to see Sam and Austin staring directly at him.

Moments felt like minutes now. He wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or honored, or what. But all of the hard-earned confidence with age had slipped away from him the moment he saw Jane this morning.

And in its place was the insecurity, terror, and fear of just about everything. The only thing he could do was try in vain to move on.

He moved over to the kit and assuaged his shaking hands with a familiar pair of drumsticks. He looked back up at the guys. “So, thoughts? Something arpeggiated over the first verse would make more sense than me starting off on one. Maybe I can do something on pads until the first chorus—”

“Are you okay, man?”

Austin’s question ripped his hope of moving on from him.

“…yeah. Why?”

“You’re uh—” Austin started, pointing at Rob’s face.

Rob reached up and realized he had been crying.

He blinked. “Yeah, I’m good.” A few more second passed in the hot, stuffy room, before Rob continued. “So something arpeggiated, right? …Sam?”

--

The guys thankfully moved past the moment, and before long, they had laid out a structure that seemed to make sense underneath what Jane had sung. Sam was fiddling around with a clean tone and a tremolo that was surprisingly vulnerable, given his usual approach to playing. Austin’s bass lines were similarly clean, but full—filling the air in a way you wouldn’t ever notice until the music stopped. It felt like opening up an ephemeral space, in a strange way.

Behind the kit, Rob was choking on air. It wasn’t even noon and he had several shots of vodka slipped into him already via a flask he always kept on him. If anything, it made it worse—and his heartbeat seemed to intrude upon the gentle solace the other guys were creating in front of him.

Sam and Austin were busy hammering out some pre-chorus melodic pass off when he finally rose and beelined for the bathroom.

Once the door was shut and the fan was turned on, he slid his back down the wall and splayed his feet out in front of him.

He took out his phone and ferociously looked up some daily news—something, anything to distract his mind from the panic attack that floated in the air around him, threatening to invade.

Which, as it turned out, wasn’t particularly helpful, because Mae was in the headlines again.

MAE is Back—Everything You Missed In Her Shocking IG Story

He didn’t bother to open the article. A few taps later, he was already watching the story for himself.

He skipped ahead, desperately looking for the part of the story he didn’t want to hear.

“—it is, I just haven’t had this feeling in a while,” Mae continued, after Rob had skipped past her preamble. She was sat cross-legged in a large couch, with her hair shining out past a wall full of sound insulation.

It was a studio.

“I’ve been busy, you know, I lost the love of my life, and it’s really just been me and my daughter picking up the pieces. But now, you know? I think I want to start living for myself again. So…I don’t know when, but…I think I’m gonna be putting out another LP. See you on the other side, loves.”

She blew a kiss to the camera, and the story ended.

Immediately, he picked up the phone and called her.

It rang three times before it picked up.

“Rob?” Came a soft voice. In the background, he could hear the familiar click of a Pro Tools metronome.

“Hey, uh…just saw your story.”

“Yeah?” she asked. A pause, then: “I dunno, I just thought, what the hell?”

“Yeah. What the hell.”

Mae either ignored or missed the bite in Rob’s voice, and continued. “Elle’s good, by the way. I bought this super nice studio like, five minutes away, and Jack’s over and cooking her lunch. He was kind enough to stay in town a few extra weeks while I hash out some songs.”

“That’s great.”

It was terrible. Jack—Mae’s younger brother, who lived on his sister’s fame like a parasitic leech—was insufferable. Being good with kids was one of his only attributes Rob would even consider passably decent.

“Yeah—listen, Rob, I gotta go, but tomorrow, around five, are you free? I can set Elle up on FaceTime. She’s been asking to see you already, can you believe it?”

“I can absolutely do that, yes,” Rob responded. “Best—uh, best of luck to you Mae. Hope it comes out well. Talk tomorrow.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The line went dead after that.

Rob stood up, exited the bathroom, and slipped past Sam and Austin.

“I need air,” he said to them. They mostly ignored him and continued to fiddle around on the song.

He slipped upstairs, went into his room, and let out a few full-throated screams into his pillows.

After a minute and another few swigs, he had calmed down enough to think.

It was noon. So far today, he had realized he was still in love with Jane, and his obnoxiously famous ex-wife was going into the studio at the same time he was.

On the first problem, he could either avoid Jane, which he knew wouldn’t work, or he could try to get closer to Jane, which terrified him. The idea of doing so had been unthinkable for years. Even considering it now scared the hell out of him. Even if J was open to the idea, which was a pretty big fucking ‘if,’ she had spent many years fighting to get to where she was now.

And if he really admitted it to himself, he wasn’t much more than a so-so father and an alcoholic at this point. Plus, how quickly could that jeopardize what In Bloom was doing?

And how soon would Mae jeopardize that? Any news about her sucked up every news outlet. No matter what, MAE news would drown out In Bloom news. Any interview now would be him responding to Mae’s claim that he was the love of her life, and grilling him about it being his fault.

Why the fuck did she say that??

Before he could consider any more, he heard a knock at the door, and through it, Sam:

“We’re ready to start tracking.”

--

Rob tried his best not to think everything as he started tracking the song. It was a fairly easy task ahead of him, and he figured after two takes, he could get up, and go try to sort it out as best he could.

Already, before he started playing, he got a vague ‘Call Me.’ text from Evan. Soon enough, everyone was going to ask him about it.

And at this point, he would rather saw off an arm then talk to anyone about Mae.

As he finished up, he looked through the window to see J and Austin talking and laughing. He could only wonder as to what they were on about. If they looked this happy, surely that hadn’t heard yet.

Once the song finished up, Rob made his way into the sound room and swapped out with J. He sat by Austin and quite literally twiddled his thumbs. Like hell was he going to pull his muted phone out now.

“Breathing okay there, sport?” Austin mused. He had likely picked up the existential dread radiating out of Rob this entire morning.

“Yeah, fine,” Rob said. “Sorry, just had a bad call with Mae. I’ll be fine.”

Austin feigned shock and offense. “Woah, I didn’t know we could say that name here.”

Despite everything, Austin was still able to get a laugh out of Rob when he wanted to.

“Yeah yeah,” Rob chuckled, “only I can.”

Austin gave a thumbs up to Jane and turned back to Rob. “Well speaking of exes, you should probably know J’s heading back out there tonight.”

“Oh,” Rob said, flat. “That’s nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Austin’s question came out very casually, but after a few seconds of silence, he repeated himself far more seriously this time: “It is…isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Rob said. Without thinking, he stood up and starting walking out. “I need a minute. I’m uh, I’m heading out.”

“What?”

“Guys, shut up,” Sam called out, utterly oblivious to everything going on behind him. He twisted a few knobs and waved behind him. “Jane’s starting her take.”

“Everything’s fine, Austin,” Rob said. He was lying through his teeth and both of them knew it. Rob got one last look at Austin’s almost terrified expression before he slipped behind the soundproof door and made his way up the stairs.

As he walked, he quickly ordered an Uber—ignoring the eighteen text messages from Evan and others that were starting to trickle in. He went outside, and waited for the Uber to arrive.

“Hey, I know it says the pharmacy on there,” Rob said to the driver, as soon as he got inside, “but ignore that. Take me to Santiago Peak. I’ll tip you for the trouble.”

The driver nodded, and he was very quickly taken up the mountain roads.

If he was going to have a complete meltdown, at the very least, he would do it alone.

About thirty minutes passed in silence in the car, and Rob finally built up the courage to glance down at his phone.

He brushed past a message from Austin and moved to his missed calls. There were several, but ten from Evan alone.

Rob took a deep breath and called him. Evan answered before the first ring.

“I know, I know, you’re probably going through a lot,” he started, before Rob could even get a word out.

“Evan—”

“I’ll leave you alone, I swear, just tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I’m going on a hike.”

“A hike?” Evan repeated. “…okay, whatever. A hike. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t know she was going to do that?”

“…no.”

“Okay.”

Rob hung up after that. Another five minutes later, he arrived at the trailhead, tipped his Uber driver generously, and turned off his phone.

Everything else would need to fucking wait.

The phone conversation with Jared went smoothly. On the surface, they caught up and confirmed they were both in the area. Then, after tripping over her words, he put her out of her misery.

“Are you asking me out, Molloy?”

Jane chuckled, then sighed. “Something like that.”

“Well, does tonight work?” he asked confidently, already knowing her answer.

“Just…I’m not ready for downtown. Can we keep it casual?”

“You got it.”

Now, Jane was meticulously checking over her outfit - a black body suit that disappeared into a pair of black skinny jeans and a chunky cardigan on top - and her hair, which was brushed out smooth with ripples of waves that formed down her back.

A knock at her door startled her out of her vanity, and Austin entered, already wincing.

“Oh god,” Jane groaned. “What?”

He let her read his phone, her expression growing more and more sour with each sentence. As she finished the article, Austin began to whisper “remember it’s my phone, it’s my phone.” Jane passed it back to Austin and started a breathing exercise as she paced.

“Why would she choose now? That, that bitch.”

The correlation clicked in her mind, and her focus darted to Austin.

“Where the fuck is he?” In the moment, every feeling she had for Rob was replaced with rage. This wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t know In Bloom was writing.

Austin put his hands up to show innocence. “He left after he got the news. He didn’t look good.”

Jane rolled her eyes. Of course he left. But then, it changed to concern. “Where?”

“Fuck if I know. He’s supposed to have a call with Evan any second.”

“Well, I’m out of here in ten minutes,” Jane sighed, mulling the idea of staying home to await Rob’s return. Or to make sure Rob returned at all. “Please text me if you hear anything.”



Jared’s matte black snaked up the driveway, Jane watching from the patio, fingers picking at each other. Once the light hum turned to silence, she approached with her chin up and shoulders back. Long, brown hair and a familiar face popped up across the top of the car.

“I’d have gotten the door for you.”

“I know,” she smirked. They both plopped into the car, and before she could blink, they were speeding down the road, her eyes on Jared’s tattooed hand barely touching the wheel.

“You look beautiful, J,” he grumbled, his dark eyes staying on the road. “You look older but -“ He snapped his head towards her, “somehow just the same.”

Jane grew warm in response to the compliment, shifting her to hide her cheeks which were most definitely red. “And that’s a good thing? The same?”

His stoic expression cracked, and a smirk formed, revealing a gold tooth. It was permanent, she remembered. “Of course it is.”

A deep breath, and Jane relaxed in the passenger seat. “I think you hear it enough,” Jane giggled, “but you’re not so bad yourself.” She was referring to the hundreds of women commenting on each photo he uploaded on the IG she’s perused earlier in the day.

Jared rolled his eyes. “You remember how fans are. They get obsessive.”

She pondered the statement. “In Bloom didn’t get that far. We were forgotten about as easily as we were discovered.” Realizing the statement was a buzzkill, she turned and smiled. “Maybe I’ll get my shot this time around.”

The statement reminded her of Mae, and the fact that not only had she lived out Jane’s dream with Rob, but now she may take away her redemption. Her fists tightened in her lap, obviously enough for Jared to take one and place his lips on it gently. She vibrated.

“Whatever’s going on, just forget about it tonight.” Jared gave her a knowing look. Whether he was referring to the Mae knees, her living with her ex again, or whatever else she could complain about.

Entranced, Jane nodded as she watched him release her hand and put it back on the wheel. Whether she was ready for the affection or not emotionally, she was definitely responding physically.

“Shyer than you used to be?”

His willingness to call things as they were was always something she admired - but right now - she wished he wasn’t so bold.

“Turns out drugs were covering up some bad anxiety.”

Jared nodded. “Quitting drinking had me jittery for a while.” Apparently deciding her answer wasn’t sufficient, he continued on. “When’s the last time you were with someone?”

“Jared,” she gasped in a mocking tone.

“Doesn’t have to be like that. Anything. A date. A kiss. You have nervous-at-the-middle-school-dance energy. “

Jane didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t help it. “5 years,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry?” he joked, cupping his ear. “Did I hear years?”

With her head in her hands, Jane nodded in confirmation.

“How did the poster child for sex, drugs, and rock and roll turn to a nun? My rehab definitely didn’t do that.”

The car was pulling up to an alcove, twinkling city lights illuminating the clouds dotting the dark sky.

“Last time I wound up in rehab, it was after Nico - my ex - left. I…” She took a minute to gather her thoughts. “I told myself I’d only open myself up to someone like that again if I fell in love and -“

“You sit in your mountain home alone?”

Jane nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Jared grunted as he reached in the back seat. “I have some take out and a blanket, plus a beautiful night.” He pointed to the sky. “Don’t think of this as a date, okay? Just two old friends catching up.”

Jane smiled, grabbing a bag from him. “At a very romantic, secluded location.”

He smirked. “You wanted low key. Can’t get much more low key than this.”



The rest of the evening was, to Jane’s surprise, a fantastic time. They caught up over old stories, old bands. Catching each other up on more minute side stories of their lives. Sobriety.

Her body had just started to relax when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She mouthed an apology to Jared before greeting Austin.

“Did you hear from Rob?” Jane asked firstly, her voice dripping with desperation.

“No, only Evan. He likes the song for the album, but he says it’s not the radio hit right now that we need, especially with MAE’s looming comeback.”

“Fuck,” Jane sighed. “I have lyrics, we’ll workshop it in the morning. Tell the others 8.”

“Got it,” Austin responded before disconnecting.

Jared by this point had packed the picnic back in the car and had the engine running.

“I’m so sorry,” Jane stuttered, hopping into the car and buckling in. “Guess you heard we have a song to write.”



“You don’t have to walk me to the door.”

Jared had an arm around her shoulders, rubbing the arm his hand reached. “You’re freezing.”

As they reached the front patio, Jane turned and looked up to him. “Best date I’ve had in years,” she smiled.

Jared rolled his eyes at the joke, but grabbed her arm and pulled her close. She felt the eyes of the security cameras on her like lasers, but she couldn’t help but let him pull her in.

A man’s chest. His heart beat. His hands at the small of her waist. A feeling she had only fantasized about for so long.

When Jared leaned in to kiss her, she obliged, gripping his shirt to keep her steady on her toes. But once the kiss began to deepen, and his hands began to move around, Jane pushed back and caught her breath.

“Did I do too much?” Jared whispered, his brows furrowed. His arms were out like he wanted to comfort her, but at the same time, he didn’t want to get too close.

“No, Jared, I…” Breath. “That was, that was hot. I just…I need to move a bit slower.” That, and Rob was still the only thing she could think about.

His concerned expression turned back to his playful one. “I can do that.”

“I’m not sure if you can,” Jane teased, leaning in and pecking him once more. “Thanks for the date,” she whispered as she turned her keys in the door.

“I’ll text you later this week,” he whispered back, watching until she was safely in the door.

It was early, and Jane was greeted by Austin and Sam sitting at the bar in the kitchen. Each had a beer in front of them, both looking defeated.

“No Rob, I’m guessing?”

“Nah,” Austin shook his head, “and more buzz about MAEs possible return.”

“Fucking Mae,” Jane mumbled. “Well, look. We don’t need Rob to write a song, right?” She looked to the stove time reading 8:30. “Evan wants a radio song. Let’s fucking do it.”

“Right now?” Sam finally chimed in, resting a cheek on his fist.

“I was working on something on the ride home. I think it’ll work. Let’s just get down there.”

Austin put a hand up. “Try calling him first?” He was referring to Rob, of course. “His phone’s been off, but maybe if he gets a message from you - “

“I’ll try. Meet you guys down there.”

As Austin warned, Rob’s phone went to voicemail, and Jane nervously tapped her fingers on the marble countertop until it beeped.

“Rob, it’s J. I don’t know where you went but…you should be here with me-us.” Jane hoped the fumble didn’t pick up over voicemail. Why were her eyes watering. “We’re working on a song. We’re gonna figure this all out together. Just come back, yeah? Okay. Bye.”



The song was Everything. If Jane was never obvious before, with these lyrics, she was now.

All that was left was for Rob to track his drums, then they could send the song to Evan in the morning and hopefully have a radio hit by that evening.

“I’ve noticed he’s been drinking,” Austin mumbled as they went up the steps. It was close to midnight.

“Rob’s always drank,” Jane shook her head, not understanding the point.

“No, I mean drinking. Might be part of his disappearing act today.”

Austin kept ascending the steps, but Jane stood frozen on the staircase. Rob couldn’t fall for addiction. Shit, he left Jane for her’s. Possibly, Austin was just being dramatic.y

And as Jane climbed into her bed that night, she stayed awake as long as she could to hopefully hear Rob returned, but drifted off eventually, humming the song they just recorded.

If anything, she hoped Rob liked it.

Drunk on a mountaintop wasn’t where Rob had pictured the evening going for him when he woke up this morning.

Where had it all gone so wrong? The words seemed to appear in his head and fall out his ears.

He had hiked a good mile or two down the west-facing side of the mountain top—polishing off the flask he kept tucked away in his inner jacket pocket he had been clutching onto the entire day.

He had past a few people—some of whom took double glances at him as he passed. As far as he could tell, he was still incognito.

For now.

Eventually, he had moved a few dozen feet off the trail and slipped himself in between two bushes—perching himself atop a small boulder protruding from the mountainside.

From this vantage point, the rest of Orange County was painted in a lavender-orange glow as the sun pierced its way through distant clouds over the ocean. The sun would be set soon now.

And tomorrow everything would once again be different.

Perhaps he was being dramatic—no, he was sure he was being dramatic—but it certainly felt like his past had caught up to him like a revenant.

He thought back to the time he spent in Europe, playing stadium after stadium. Impossibly large structures with ever more impossibly large crowds lining them. Always watching MAE’s back as he beat out another simple four-on-the-floor groove.

The only time he would ever have fun on the MAE world tour was when “Always Watching” came around. It wasn’t their most popular song by a long shot—but the driving rhythm always got the crowd moving.

Plus, it was the only song that sounded even remotely like an In Bloom track, and even barely at that point. The only thing they shared in common was the energy they lit up in the crowd, driving them into a frenzy. Critics always said it sounded like a Halsey track, but Mae paid them no mind.

But even so, the lyrics Mae had written felt surprisingly prescient to how he felt now:

If everything is everywhere,
then everyone must be aware
that all are always watching,
yes, they are always watching.

Hidden in your darkened room
or sealed within your self-built tomb,
still, they are always watching
always, always watching

The words seemed to dangle in front of him, brash and loud.

He felt something sway within him, and within a moment, he was spilling his guts across the nearby bushes.

He fell to his side, into the dirt, and watched the sunset move from left to right—setting into the vertical earth.

He blinked twice, and suddenly the moon was high in the sky.

It seemed even when he needed time to stand still, it wouldn’t.

He needed time to understand why Mae would decide to tour now, of all times. What would happen with Elle? He sure as shit wouldn’t leave Elle with Mae’s fuckup brother. But could he even tour with In Bloom if she tried to use Elle as leverage?

He needed time to understand why all of these feeling had stirred up inside him about J. What he had was ten years ago—why was it all coming back now? Why did his heart about rip out of his chest this morning? Why was he plastered on a mountain after hearing she went on a date, of all things?

Why was he here?

At this point, the time for sober thinking had long since past. The time was now to figure out a way back. Afterwards, he would have to face a series of massively uncomfortable questions from his bandmates.

And he’d have to face J again.

The thought of her turned him inside out. In his drunken state, he spoke out load—muttering to himself in the wind, talking to his own consciousness.

“She broke our heart, same as Mae,” he mumbled into the dirt.

You loved her, came the voice in his head. More than Mae. You always did.

“I loved Mae.”

Of course you did.

Rob paused for a moment. “I loved J, too.”

You loved her more.

“…I did.”

You do. Present tense.

“…I do.”

The voice stopped speaking after that.

In the silence, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, and started the long trek up the mountain.

**

As he walked, he turned on his phone.

Three hundred and sixty-five messages. Everyone from his uncle to Evan to pretty much everyone in the band had sent him messages.

He glanced through a few—trying to get a general sense of what everyone was thinking. The range of responses seemed to range from ‘Fuck that bitch,’ to ‘I’m so sorry’ to ‘Jesus Rob where are you??’

He looked for something from Jane, instinctually.

She hadn’t sent anything.

His mind filled briefly with rage, then just as quickly to confusion.

Why was he expecting anything from her?

She had a date; plus, aside from this morning, Rob hadn’t made it particularly clear he wanted anything to do with her romantically.

Did he want something to do with her romantically?

The more Rob tried to push the thoughts aside for another, more sober time, the more the swayed back.

He just couldn’t shake it. After a decade of running—after his tear-stricken departure from the home they once shared to years later, this morning, seeing her again, truly seeing her for the first time?

He remembered he had always called her home.

He loved Mae once. He truly did. But Jane was always home.

“Sir?”

The sound snapped him from his thoughts. It was a police officer, standing with a bright flashlight. Rob had made it to the parking lot of the trailhead only to find the police.

Rob lifted his arm to deflect the light. “Yes?” was all he could muster.

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Rob Pennie, would it?”

Fuck.

“Thatsssme.”

The officer lowered the flashlight and approached Rob. “Your uh—I guess it’s your agent? An Evan. He filed a missing persons report, said your last location was somewhere around here?”

“They track phonesnow?” Rob slurred out. At this point, the officer was already leading him to the car.

“Yeah,” the officer continued. “You’re not under arrest or anything, I’m just taking you back home.”

“Yeahthassfine.” Rob said, but he was already in the back of the car, with the door closed. The car quickly began moving—flashing lights off, thankfully.

“You know,” the officer continued, “this probably isn’t a good time to ask, but you wouldn’t happen to be Rob Pennie, would you?”

“Yup. Unfortunately.”

**

Soon enough, he was stumbling into the rental home—his newfound police friend waving as they drove off into the night. If Rob had been sober, he probably would’ve appreciated the fan interaction.

Less so, tonight.

As soon as he opened the door and shut it, he knew he was in trouble.

The foyer led straight to the kitchen, where Austin and Sam were sitting. They both stared at him with death in their eyes.

“Dowstairs.” Rob said. He flicked on the lights to the nearby basement entrance and headed into the studio.

At this point, it must have been three in the morning.

Rob quickly ran down; tossing himself on the sound booth couch like a sandbag. He was able to sit back up when Sam and Austin entered and sat in rolling chair ahead of him.

Judging me, he thought to himself.

“Where the fuck were you?” Came the first question from Sam.

Rob shrugged emphatically. “I’m fine,” was his only response.

The next question, from Austin. “You go to a bar? You fucked anyone—what?”

This time, Rob’s eyes shot daggers into Austin. The message seemed to get across, because Austin leaned back and said nothing else. “Just thought I’d ask,” came his meek reply.

“I went hiking. It was fine. I’m pretty fuggin familiar with how to avoidascene.”

“Maybe don’t say that one too loudly,” Austin replied. He pointed to the ceiling. Jane.

“Not what I meant,” came Rob’s honest reply.

Next, a question from Sam. “Did you know?”

At this, Rob laughed. “Yeah, no. I didn’t know. We’re not exactly close.”

“She’s the mother of your child.”

“Sam, I love you buddy,” Rob started, “but we’re not talking about it. And you’re not mentioning my daughter.”

“You think she would have been proud to see Daddy like this?”

Rob could faintly hear Austin start to shut Sam down, but it was already too late.

The next thing he knew, he was on top of Sam—his face already swelling from Rob’s sucker punch—and Austin was pulling him off.

He didn’t fight back, and was tossed back onto the couch, before Austin could help Sam to his feet.

“You deserved that,” Austin said to Sam. Sam simply shrugged Austin off and rose to his feet.

“You could have broke my fucking nose, asshole!” Sam roared.

At this, Rob shrugged. “Didn’t.”

Sam stormed off upstairs soon after that, and it was quiet for a moment. A long, lovely moment, before Austin continued.

“You’re an adult—”

“—I know that—”

“—so I’m not telling you what to do. But maybe punch a few pillows next time? And maybe lay off with the drinking? It isn’t subtle.”

He was right, but Rob wasn’t in the mood to admit it.

“You guys track a song?”

Austin nodded. “A new one. Jane seemed to pull it out of nowhere. We were hoping to track drums. We can probably do it first thing in the morning.”

Rob rose to his feet and moved for the studio. “Turn the console on.”

“You might want to listen to her lyrics first—”

“Turn the console on,” Rob repeated, but at the door, he stopped himself. He turned back to Austin.

“Yaknow,” he started, “I could probably take a wild guess as to what the song’s about. So you’re not protecting me. Play it once, then loop it, and I’ll track it now.”

Austin and Rob shared a long moment before Austin sighed in agreement. “It’s too early for this…” Rob could hear him start, before closing the door to the sound studio.

**

Behind the throne and a few glasses of water later, Rob was finished listening to the first pass of Jane’s song.

The guitar and bass lines were beautiful—Sam really evoked what Jane was trying to say in the tuning of the track, and Austin laid down something syncopated but simple enough for Rob to play around with.

Jane’s lyrics, however, tore through him. They felt like solemn acceptance of a truth that wasn’t true.

Not anymore. Not for Rob.

“Hey, uh,” Rob started into his microphone, “mute J’s lines while I track it. I know what she sings. I want to play to the feeling, not the words.”

Rob watched Austin silently shrug and press a few buttons. Soon enough, the metronome started up and he began to play.

**

After tracking, Rob pushed back into the sound booth.

“So?” he started up. “Usable?”

Austin seemed to stare at him with incredulous eyes. He almost seemed emotional.

“I uh…I muted the vocal track for you, but not for me. It’s…it’s really fucking good, man.”

Rob responded by moving past Austin—patting his shoulder as he did so—and heading for the stairs.

“Don’t worry too much about the mix, send it to Evan,” he responded. “Have him wake up to it. It’s a beautiful song.”

He headed upstairs, then up again to the second floor.

At this point, he’d probably get only an hour or two of sleep before it was time to get up, but he’d take what he could get.

He was well and truly spent at this point.

But before he headed to bed, he saw Jane’s door in the hallway.

He paused in front of it, for just a moment. He lifted a hand to the door, and pressed softly on it.

It was locked—of course—but in that moment, if it wasn’t?

He’d lay beside her and drift off to sleep.

Instead, he walked into his room—door wide open—pulled off a shirt, and collapsed on the bed.

He barely set a timer for 7:30 before he fell asleep atop the covers.

Who knew what tomorrow would hold. But it had to be a hell of a lot better than today.

The phone began to blast Son of Robot under her pillow before Jane silenced it and turned onto her back. 5:00 AM. She must have had the dream again - an emptiness in her stomach made her grasp it tightly. Bits and pieces came back as she stared at the ceiling, the blinds causing flickers of the outdoor lighting to scatter across it.

The dream itself is mundane, nice even. Jane’s stomach is big, maybe 7-8 months pregnant. She’s walking barefoot in the sand along someone, her hand in their’s. She never sees their face, but she knows it’s Rob. She hears him talking each time, but she can’t make out the words. Just his tone, his inflection, like it’s own faded song.

But every time Jane had that dream, she always woke up feeling a void so deep even heroin didn’t fill, but it’d been a couple years since she had it. Being the vicinity of Rob must have been making even her subconscious go into overdrive.

Jane’s sponsor made her promise to keep up her journaling in the morning, a part of her normal routine at home, so with a grunt, she reached into the bedside table to grab her lyric book. The journal entries were scattered throughout, sometimes wedged into the side of an already-used paper, or on the backs of others. She’d have to make a note to buy a new notebook soon.

“Friday.

Today’s my 33rd birthday. At home, I’d be cuddled up with my cat after surfing, and spend the sunset on the peak. I told everyone not to do anything here, but Jared’s insisting on taking me out. Really out, like downtown. He says putting off facing the public will only make it scarier, and it’s about time I get over it.

I had the dream again. He’s in my stomach and I can feel him moving around. I still don’t regret it most days. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I was in so much pain.

Letting go of the idea of Rob and I has been bittersweet. I mourn the fantasies I’ve had of seeing each other again - our past, our friendship - but I know that it’s the right choice. He’s grown up so much, it’s daunting. The way he talks, the way he carries himself. I feel so small next to him.

And I’ve changed too. I’m less…everything than I used to be. But it’s getting easier to be around him again, almost like we’re falling back into our natural ebb and flow. In those moments I catch myself still searching for something in his eyes, but come up empty.

I miss human touch so much. I wake up in the middle of the night and crave it deep in my stomach like an ulcer. But I plan to keep the promise I made, even here.

This place has made me realize that I don’t really know who I am as an artist anymore…maybe even myself, and I wonder if I’m just going to look foolish trying to fill my own shoes. But our writing sessions are getting better each time, like we were just out of practice. We’re starting to feel like a band again - I missed that a lot.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

-J”

After a stretch, Jane tiptoed down the hallway towards the kitchen for a glass of water when she spotted Rob’s door open. Her heart beat loudly in her ears until he came into view, fully clothed and sprawled out on his bed. It was close to 5am, but Jane still double checked the hallway before entering his room.

First, she loosened his laces and worked his shoes off, then she yanked the comforter out from under him to put on top. For a moment, Rob groaned in resistance, and Jane paused before saying the same thing he’d say to her after she’d fallen asleep on the couch.

“Shhhh, just getting you comfy.”

Once the comforter was over him, Jane exited his room, letting the door click shut softly, all the breath she was holding coming out in a sigh. This was another part of her morning routine, well - her new one - doing a quiet clean up of Rob passing out in the early morning hours.

The rest of the routine consisted of the following: stretching and yoga until the some came up, then a swim. After breakfast, they’d spend most of the day in the studio until the afternoon hours. Jane decided to dedicate an hour in the driveway to get comfortable on her longboard again, with a more intense workout session in the backyard as the sun set. Shower, back to the basement, then bed.

“Everything” hit #1 across rock and alternative charts, and was hitting the hundred thousands in streams by this point.

Each member of the band seemed to be happy about it, a rare occurrence, so the mood amongst the house was light. Every day, Rob and her talked a bit more, breaking the tension they had in passing.

Jane told him more about her sobriety, her life up in NorCal, making sure to avoid the topics of her drug use and what her life entailed after he left. And he spoke more of being a father, along with some of the places he traveled with MAE and mishaps along the way.

And it was…nice. Being able to be around him again without all of her muscles tensing. He wasn’t so much a stranger now as an old friend she was trying to figure out.

And, the residual checks became real money.

Jane got a bank alert that nearly made her choke, and she quickly used the funds to pay her mortgage which was two months behind, along with some credit cards. The fact that Jane was broke was a secret she held close to her chest, as it wouldn’t be true for much longer. But the financial stress she had was gone, and Jane felt lighter than she had in months.

“Hey, space cadet,” Austin grumbled, breaking Jane out of her trance as she chomped on an apple.

“You’re up early,” Jane whispered back, taking note of his workout gear. “You’re finally gonna join me?”

“Thought I’d give it a shot,” he smirked, taking a sip of his water. “You do that every morning?”

Austin nodded his head down the hallway, pointing to Rob’s door. “Clean up?”

Jane shrugged. “He did it for me.”

“Yeah, well, it just looks like enabling from here.”

Her eyes rolled. “Look, I’m just trying to keep him out of trouble with Sam. We don’t need anymore black eyes.”

“Why don’t you try talking to him about it?” Austin huffed, crossing his arms. “You guys seem to be hitting it off more.”

“Yeah, and I don’t wanna ruin it yet. I haven’t even seen him look that bad.”

“You go to bed before ten. That’s why.”

A click of a door opening came from the hallway, and Jane used it as her chance to bail from the conversation. “I’ll be out back,” she whispered sharply before the glass door slid shut.

The sky was just beginning to glow, the stars disappearing high in the sky while the horizon remained murky. Stretching, she tried to force the thought of Rob falling down the same hole she did years ago. The one he left her to climb out of herself.

Although she wanted to feel anger, she couldn’t. She just wanted to hug him. To tell him that if she could be better, so could he. But it wasn’t time to rock the boat.

What was happening inside of him, and would he even let her look?

Rob thumbed his way through a nice stack of record, but it was Jane he was really looking at, out of the corner of his eye.

She looked beautiful in this moment—the light peering in through the window blinds of the record store, lighting her face in strips of yellow-white.

Her small hands wrapped around a few LPs—the same that pulled him gently into the store just a few moments ago. She gripped records from Fleet Foxes and The 1975, and finally pulled a record from Pond before seeming satisfied.

The album cover was a cacophony of colors and drawings. It was a cover he wasn’t going to forget.



Rob blinked through red-hot tears as he tore through the loft. Jane was comatose in the bedroom—like she always fucking was—so he didn’t think twice about the noise he was making.

This was all ending, all of it, tonight. He’d never see her again.

He cracked open the coat closet and ripped his clothes from the hangars, some of them splintering and snapping as he did so.

On the floor, he spotted an old pile of records. He flipped through them quickly, sorting them mentally in his head.

Mine, hers, mine, mine, hers, hers, hers, mine, hers…

Until he came upon the bottom record.

Beaten and crumpled from storage of use was that old Pond record. It hadn’t been song since they got it, but after everything, it hadn’t been played in months.

Images of Jane in the record shop tore through his head. Moments that felt like a lifetime ago.

Without hesitating, he took it.



Rob’s world spun as he came back to life. Someone was pulling at his shoes again.

Shit…

Everything was a fuzzy blur. The room seemed to vibrate as he felt someone pull off his shoes, then pull the comforter out from under him. He felt himself hit cooler sheets and groaned in annoyance.

Soon enough, the movement stopped, and felt the comforter’s warmth again upon his back.

“Thankssssssloove,” he muttered out instinctually, then it was back to sweet relief.

The past few days had been a blur for him. After waking up far, far past his alarm, he had a brief call with Evan—making empty promises to lay off the drinking for a few days. Evan, for all his grouchiness during that call, was happy to report that Rob’s aggressive drumming style tied up J’s vocals nicely for the single. Something about ‘opposite energies,’ or so he said.

He dropped it immediately on streaming platforms, and lo and behold, it was a best-selling hit.

The reaction to the single didn’t surprise Rob at first—but seeing the stream count climb several figures overnight was enough to even shock him.

The band—a phrase which felt damn good to say again—had a small festive party at the poolside upon the good news, and Rob was happy enough to try and bury the hatchet with Sam. Sam wasn’t very apologetic—he never was—but it was enough for Rob to let it go.

Rob also made sure to keep his drinking to a minimum that night. And in front of the others, in the least. Evan had made it clear in no uncertain terms that ‘such behavior wouldn’t be put up with for long,’ as he put it.

And to be fair to Evan, Rob wasn’t very much interested in tolerating it either. It was never intentional, the way his evenings went. One moment, he’d crack into a new handle of rum, and the next, someone was always taking his shoes off, tucking him into bed like he was Elle.

And it wasn’t like he was much of a drinker, anyways. It was just—sleeping had become so fucking hard with all of the news and chaos surrounding both ‘Everything’ and MAE’s announcement. His email, which he had given out to a scant few people, had been inundated with interview requests, old ‘friends’ requesting special access, and a number of propositions.

By the evening after Everything had released, Rob had to turn his email client on silent. He hadn’t even looked to his phone until a familiar number rang.

Sometime around 1 in the morning, between his usual vices, his phone rang—and a familiar photo shone out in the darkness of his room.

Rob picked it up without hesitating.

“Holy shit!” He about yelled into the microphone.

“Holy shit yourself,” Kate replied. Her dulcet tone hadn’t changed much in the four odd years since last they spoke. “Surprised you’ve even answer the phone for a nobody like me.”

“Please tell me you’re in town.”

“Rob, it’s one.”

“Your point?” Rob shot back. He got up from his position at the foot of his bed and began taking his sweatpants off. Hobbling on one leg as the other remained caught, he picked up a pair of black jeans sitting in the corner. “You’re calling either for a job or a congratulations or both, and I’d rather do it in person.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before she responded. “You’re lucky I’m already out. I’m at Godfather’s. And Uber here, please?”

***

It wasn’t long before Rob was sat across from Kate in one of the most unassuming bars in Orange County. It was the middle of the week—so the crowd remained pretty thin. Rob had thrown on a Dodgers hat had he kept around for this sort of occasion, and from the looks of it, it was working.

“I don’t want a job, asshole,” Kate finally shot back after the two had settled into casual conversation. “Maybe I just wanted to catch up with an old friend?”

“So, ‘congratulations,’ then?” Rob asked.

Kate seemed to contemplate punching his shit-eating grin before swallowing her pride. “Congratulations,” she repeated back—gesturing with her drink in the air as if toasting to a hard-fought battle.

“Fucking hell, you’ve gotta be almost thirty by now.”

“Twenty-nine, and thanks for reminding me,” she laughed back at him. “I mostly just wanted to tell you I think it’s cool you and Jane and the boys are cooking up some shit. They put your single on the radio and everything.”

“Yeah,” Rob said. His tone remained flat as he continued: “I’m sure it was between MAE ad reads.”

“It wasn’t, and who the fuck cares, anyways?” Kate signaled to the bartender for another drink for the both of them. “Seriously, bud, you gotta let it go. I know it’s killing you. I mean—fuck—some people said they found you sobbing on a mountainside earlier this week.”

Rob’s eyes sobered up quickly at the mention of that, but Kate continued on.

“There aren’t photos, calm down. I know my shit. But seriously, you’ve gotta get over her.”

“I am over her,” Rob replied. “It wasn’t about her.”

“Jane, then?”

Rob went quiet after that one.

In front of them, the bartender set down a few more dark spirits, before moving on to other patrons. Kate grabbed the drink in front of her and downed it quickly.

“Does she know?”

“About what?” came Rob’s immediate response. He reached for his own drink and soon enough, it was gone as well. Kate’s silent glare gave him all the confirmation he needed, so he took a deep breath. Then:

“Kate, it’s ancient history. Shit happened, she relapsed, I left, you know all of this. She’s…she’s better now. She deserves better.”

“What, you’re not good enough for her—?”

“NO.”

The loudness at Rob’s response shook them both. He thought a moment, before responding. “I’m old news, K. I’m divorced. My ex-wife is about to suffocate my band out of a second chance. And probably take my daughter. I’m not…I’m not what she needs right now.”

Kate watched for a moment, and the two didn’t speak for a good while. She rose up and signaled to the bartender, before handing over a credit card.

“I’ve got both of us,” she told the bartender. They quickly swiped the card and produced a receipt. Her hand scrawled out a signature, and she looked back up at Rob.

“Maybe let Jane decide whether you’re good enough for her? Neither of you are kids anymore. Congratulations again.”

And with that, Kate left.

***

That conversation seemed to stick with Rob long after it happened. Throughout every conversation with Jane—every band meeting, every tracking session. Her words rang in his head, over, and over, and over again.

Over the past few days, he tried to be as friendly as he could without making it weird. And he had to admit—it was becoming easier and easier with time.

Jane told him all about NorCal, her life, her friends—the world she had built for herself when their world together had ended. And he reciprocated of course. Sometimes, telling the honest truth about everything, sometimes giving a Disneyfied version of more sensitive topics like post-divorce and alcohol. But slowly, piece by piece, it was getting easier to lower his walls.

Maybe he could work past this feeling—after all, he hadn’t considered being with Jane again until now. Perhaps they could work past it.

At the same time, it’s not like he hadn’t considered it, but rather, he refused to think about it.

Maybe after all this time, he had always wanted her back. He just never allowed himself to truly admit that to himself. At least until now.

It was a lot—a big, confused mess, made all-the-more muddled by Mae, kids, bands, fame, all of it. Sometimes he could work past it, other times, in the evenings, well…

The storm clouds grew closer every day.

***

By the time he woke up, for real this time, the sun was just cresting over the horizon.

His stomach churned and churned. He tossed the carfully-laid comforter across the room as he bolted for the bathroom. He just closed the gap before spilling his guts into the toilet.

In a heap, he plopped beside him, his back to the bathtub. He stuck out a hand to flush the toilet, then another to reach under the sink’s cabinets.

In here, several bottles of Pedialyte were situated beside bottles of booze. An all-in-one mistake and recovery center.

He downed as much as he could before stopping himself. His eyes cast out towards the frosted glass window and from here, he watched the sunrise.

Today was Jane’s 33rd birthday.

She had told him and everyone else never to make a big deal about it, which was of no surprise to him. Since before they were 20, she had been saying that.

And every time he refused.

Today would be no different.

After getting dressed, he took his package out into the hallway. No one was out yet—perfect. He hadn’t seen it, but he knew if it was this early, Jane had to be up. At least, new-Jane. Jane the put-together one.

What did that make him, now?

He brushed the thought aside and cracked open the door with confidence. As expected, the bed was empty.

Moving quickly he set down the carefully-wrapped package onto the bed, and had just turned when a flash of black ink caught his eye.

An open notebook at the bedside. A journal.

When did J start journaling?

Rob had journaled religiously when he was younger—all throughout In Bloom’s early years. But after all of the fallout, he hadn’t touched a journal in years.

He froze, looking towards it. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the words. He should turn—turn and leave—and not look to it.

But he didn’t move. His eyes squinted, trying to make out words. He didn’t dare move closer, but he didn’t dare move away.

Only one word could be made from this distance; his own name.

As he recognized it, he finally broke. He moved quickly out of the room and shut the door.

Some things he shouldn’t know. No matter how badly he wanted to know them.

The only things Jane would find when she came back upstairs would be her journal and his gift—wrapped gently as to not damage its worn edges. A gift he had to get a friend to grab from his place and overnight it down from Seattle.

A weathered old Pond record.

“I don’t want to,” Jane sobbed, her feet dragging along the tile floor. The shades had been closed for two weeks, and she couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. “Please, just leave me alone!” She screamed, but Austin ignored her, carrying her wafer thin body over his shoulder like a rag.

SPLASH.

She was plopped into the roman tub, already filled with warm soapy water, and Austin sat on a stool he must have brought in beforehand. He had a plan.

“Where…is…he?” was all she could get as Austin began to work shampoo through her knotted hair.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” Austin replied with a paternal tone. “You can’t live like this.”

“Then…b-bring him b-back,” she pleaded, accepting the cleaning she was being given, sinking down into the tub to release the suds out of her blonde locks.

The look Austin gave her was his answer. A harsh “no.”

She looked away, and he used the opportunity to clean the track marks and cuts on her arms. Though she was ashamed to be in this position - mortified, to be more exact - there was only one thought throbbing in her head like a persistent migraine.

He’s gone.

“You’ve been wearing his shirt since the day he left. Looks like you haven’t showered. Barely ate,” Austin listed, handing her the loofah. “I’m assuming you can do the rest?”

Her swollen eyes rolled before nodding, and Austin left the bathroom until she was ready to be helped out. From there, he dragged her back to her room and rolled her on the bed. The nightstands were covered with empty beer and pill bottles, a spoon, a lighter, and a small baggie twisted up. Before she could reach for it, Austin grabbed her supplies and shoved them in the drawer, shaking his head.

Jane awoke again to him working a knot out of her hair, feeling a bit more coherent. Being less high made the shame nip at her, but she was too weak to lift her head. “I was wearing his-,” her dry throat stopped her, and she coughed with her entire body. “They still smell like him.”

Austin sighed. “It’s time to start picking up the pieces, J. We’ve cancelled all gigs, put out a press release but…” His fingers rubbed his temples. “It’s over. The band.”

It wasn’t shocking news. The tabloids were full of images of Jane, stumbling through the streets of LA. Some went as far as to comment on the bruises on her inner elbows and the darkness underneath her eyes. It all pointed to one thing: Jane really fucked everything up. But she didn’t care about that right now.

“He won’t answer my calls.”

“Will you shut the fuck up about Rob?” Austin shouted then abruptly stood up from the bed. “Did you just hear that all we’ve worked on for years is dead?”

“Fuck the band!” she yelled back, not as loudly. Her hand covered her eyes. “I’m sure you all will be fucking fine without me. There are millions of bands that would work with you guys..”

“You don’t think Sam and I have been trying? No one wants to work with us now.”

Jane refused to look at him, and instead, pulled the covers up over her. “Get out.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Austin nodded, “for trying help you get it together.”

“Get out!” she shrieked, this time reaching a much higher volume. The only thing she heard after that was the slam of the front door shutting.



Having Austin join her for a morning yoga session - though much less meditative - was fun. He kept poking fun at how active and healthy Jane had become, and in return, she’d push him out of a pose he was attempting to hold, causing him to tumble.

He didn’t join her for the swim, saying he was going to shower and relax for a bit before they were due down to the studio by 10am.

Jane, after emerging from the pool’s outdoor shower, dove head first into the deep end, staying under the warmed, salty water until her lungs began to burn. She continued to lap the pool until the sky was it’s daytime blue, then, with her towel wrapped around her head, she entered the house and headed straight to her room. No one can make a big deal out of your birthday if you avoid them, right?

But as she entered the room, the towel she had been working around her chest had dropped to the floor. Jane wasn’t sure if her chills were from the AC hitting her wet hair and swimsuit, or the box on her bed, but only her eyes widened.

Sam wouldn’t get her anything. Jared was seeing her later. Austin would have just given her a gift this morning if…

“Rob,” she whispered. It was only a second or two before the gift was opened, and upon realizing what it was, she moved it far away from her wet body, admiring the album cover that sat at the opposite corner of the bed.

He kept that record all these years.

As if on autopilot, Jane bolted to Rob’s room, opening an already cracked door. He was sitting at the end of his bed on the phone, and looked up when Jane cleared her throat.

“Rob, the record…”

As he began to stand, she closed the distance between them and hugged him tightly. Once he gave in, and his arms wrapped around her, Jane melted. It all felt the exact same. Where her head reached. How he drew her in firmly when he hugged her as if he was protecting her from something. The smell of his shirt, the muscles in his back…

Before she turned into a puddle on the floor, Jane backed away. Although tears brimmed her eyes, they were happy this time, and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, her smile was from ear to ear.

“I knew you fucking took it,” she chuckled, dabbing her eyes. “Sorry,” she added, looking at his torso.
She had left a wet imprint of her bikini and hair on his shirt. “Morning swim.”

This gift - it was special. It meant that Rob had held on to a piece of her, no matter how little, this whole time. Was she reading this whole thing wrong?

Realizing the silence was growing longer between them, she had an idea.

“My sponsors been up my ass about getting my five year chip. Says it uh, helps you keep celebrating how far you’ve come,” Jane explained. “There’s an NA meeting down the street later. I was gonna go around 5:00pm before I go out with Jared.”

Get it out, Jane.

“I was wondering if you’d go with me,” she ended up blurting. “You don’t have to if you don’t want…I, it’s just a new place and I don’t wanna go alone.” She turned around to exit his room, but turned back around last time at the doorway. “Thanks for the gift, and let me know about later. See ya downstairs.”

And with that, Jane scurried back into her room, attempting to keep herself contained. Her first call was to her sponsor.

“But that gift wasn’t just any old gift.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jane,” Kody butted in. “You completely fell apart in that relationship. Let’s focus on the new.”

“How am I supposed to when he’s living down the hall from me?” Jane whispered sharply back. “Look. I’m still going out with Jared tonight, but I feel like I need to get all this out of me.”

“Write it out. Then get your damn chip today, okay?”

Jane smirked, leaving out the note that Rob was joining her. “Yes, yes. I’ll write it out, get the chip.”

“Friday. Again.

Rob gave me a beautiful gift, a meaningful one. I don’t know what to do with these feelings I’m having. One minute, I think I’m ready to move on, and the next, I’m head over heels again. I guess ten years between us didn’t do me much good after all. I missed his smell. His touch. I could stay there forever.

But when the love of your life lived there life without you, then what? Where does that leave me?

I still need to move on. And I will. It’s just difficult when you don’t want to.”

She closed her lyric book with a thud, then headed to the shower to prepare for their scheduled writing time downstairs. She couldn’t help but sing Sitting Up On Our Crane throughout its duration.

Seriously. Thanks again for shipping that down; I know it’s a bitch to get in and out of my place.

Rob hurriedly tapped out the message to Ari as his stomach finally calmed enough for him to sit up straight. He was (mostly) hydrated and feeling good enough to head downstairs.

But if he was being honest, he felt a bit of anxiety in his about the ordeal.

Was it too much? Did it bring up some terrible memories?

He wasn’t sure at this point whether or not he had given J the Pond record back to put aside a decade’s worth of guilt or to try to get her attention in an ‘I-still-care-about-you’ sort of way. Probably both.

In his hands, the phone buzzed. Ari replied:

Yeah yeah 🙄 you’re lucky you live a few feet from campus. And by the way, why’d it have to be that record?

Rob responded:

It’s a long story; thanks a million again. I owe you dinner and all the microbio tutoring in the world.

And then Ari: Oooooorrr you could fly me down there? Get me an autograph? You’re on KEXP up here and everything dude. Still can’t believe it’s happening.

Rob rolled his eyes: It’s nothing. But yeah. Everything kinda blew up, huh? I think I have a call-in interview with them at 10 this morning.

Ari: Mae who now? ☠️

The sentiment made Rob laugh. Ari was a good kid—twenty-two years old sure, but to him, definitely a kid—and she had always been good as a roadie in the Seattle scene. He thought about how a few short weeks ago, he was with all of those kids playing underground gigs in Pioneer Square.

Now he was back on the interview circuit. Back from the dead.

“Rob, the record…”

He looked up to see Jane as she stormed into the room. His heart jumped as he watched her hair sway with her movements. Was this good? Was this bad?

Before he knew it, he had nearly fallen over on the bed—the force of J’s body pressing against his seemed to knock the wind out of him.

His face burned brightly as he felt the warm between them. Familiar warmth. Instintually, he wrapped his arms around her. His hand nearly traced up her back as he gently grasped at the nape of her neck. His other arm wrapped around her and held her side. Her body fit into his as perfectly as ever she had.

He was almost out of breath when she let him go. The moment faded, and the dampness at chest became clearer.

”Morning swim.”

Rob couldn’t say anything. All he could do is put on a dumb little smile at her sight.

She was the first to break the silence. She had a request. An NA meeting to go to.

For all he cared, she could have asked him to go to Italy. Of course he’d go.

“Five years?” he repeated after her. “Holy shit. Wow, that’s…wow.”

Could he have anything decent to say?

Before he could come up with something, she was gone as quick as she had come.

He fell down on his back to the bed, and let out a massive breath.

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea.

***

“That’s rich,” came Austin’s response as soon as Rob had told him the news. The two had met up in the kitchen once Jane turned in to the basement for writing time, which was supposed to begin shortly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Austin replied. “—look, I’m not your Dad. I’m not lecturing you. It’s just—”

“—that I’m going with her to an NA meeting when I’m not exactly sober?” Rob finished Austin’s thought for him. He nodded.

Austin took a moment and finished the water in his hands. “Sorry,” he apologized, “J knocked the wind out of me with that yoga.” After he composed himself: “I like you. I like J. I like J sober. I hope that stays that way.”

“I’m not trying to do anything to her,” Rob shot back. He felt himself grow more and more defensive. “I mean—I’m not trying to do anything—or maybe I am—look, I’m not asking her to do shit with me.”

“And you’ll keep her on the rails while you’re too drunk to walk?”

Rob shut up after that.

Austin seemed to eye him up and down before he continued. “Maybe take this as a challenge. Sober up. Deal with whatever the fuck’s going on inside Rob. “I had to put together one of you two after shattering, I don’t want to do it twice.”

Rob wanted to respond, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. Evan.

“Look, I have that call-in…” Rob said, turning from Austin. He seemed unamused. “Talk later?”

“Sure,” came Austin’s flat reply. “Whatever, man.”

Rob scrambled up the stairs, closed the door to his room, and took the call.

“We’ve got thirty seconds and then I’ll connect you,” came Evan’s voice—all business. “I told them no MAE questions, but you’ll probably have to field one at the end.”

“Yeah yeah, I figured. I have a response. What else?”

“Focus on the positive. There’s an appetite for new In Bloom music. Everything is a hit. New stuff is coming soon.”

“Easy enough.”

“There’s going to grill you about lyrics.”

Rob paused at that. “…I know.”

“Are you ready for it?”

“Ready enough, just connect me.”

“Good luck, Rob.”

The phone buzzed, clicked, and a few moments later, the call connected to the radio station offices.

“You’re on in ten,” came a voice. In the background, Rob could hear the final notes of Everything play out in the studio. As the music faded, the host came on top of it:

“Everything…In Bloom…you’re tuned into KEXP and everyone here is having a little bit of Déjà vu. In Bloom isn’t a band we’ve played much in recent years but ever since some old tracks have resurfaced online it’s like their back on their National Tour. Still can’t believe their back and still can’t believe our very own hometown hero Robert ‘Rob’ Pennie is joining us today—Rob my friend, how’ve you been?”

“Good—great,” Rob started up. He’d done a million of these, but for some reason this one was making him nervous. “I miss town already.”

“Yeah, that’s right—” the host continued. Slick as the rest of them, she seemed to start responding to Rob before he’d finish talking. “Rob, you’ve been a local for some years, but clearly you and the rest of In Bloom have some amazing things cooking down in Orange County. Tell us—has it been like putting on a glove, or are there some barbs from how you guys separated last time?”

“It’s been seamless, seriously,” Rob replied, trying not to take any bait in the question. “You know, we’ve all done our own things for a while after In Bloom wrapped up, and I have to say, it seems like the perfect time to come back together. Everyone’s bringing their best work, and I think people are really gonna like what they hear when it’s all done.”

“We’re excited to hear it, and we’re glad to have just a few minutes of your time. This cut’s a little darker than the last stuff we’ve heard from you. A little more raw. Do you think it’s anything to do with where everyone is at this point?”

Rob winced a bit at that comment. “We try not to think too hard about evolution in terms of sound, we make what we make when we go into the studio. But we’re older, you know—we’re not the fresh-faced band on the scene anymore, and I think that’s going to be a big strength for us going forward in terms of exploring new avenues.”

“Rob, I do have to ask—this one seems awfully pointed towards some issues between yourself and Jane Molloy, frontwomen of In Bloom.”

That’s not a fucking question, Rob thought to himself. He tried not to pause too long and responded with the non-answer he had been thinking on all morning: “I think you’re going to see a lot of incredible songwriting from Jane on this record particularly in regards to lyrics. Her songwriting process—and I think she may be a better person to talk about this than myself—but her songwriting process has always been her own, and I really love how the track turned out. Everyone’s been really enjoying being back in the same room together and it’s just been a joy, truly.”

There was an unusual pause at that—perhaps the host was trying to sort out whether or not to push Rob further. Either way, she’d continue to get non-answers out of him.

Instead, she pivoted: “Finally, your former partner MAE has been in the studio at the same time as you all.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Rob replied. He’d be a brick wall on this subject.

“That’s got to be exciting for your daughter, to see her parents both start writing music again for the first time.”

What kind of set-up is this? Rob thought. I have no idea how to respond to this.

“Well, I think you’ll find she’s a lot more interested in her favorite TV shows than her parents’ music,” Rob laughed. “But yes, I think she’s very happy to be back in the studio.”

“Rob Pennie from In Bloom—thanks so much for taking our call and tell everyone we say good luck!”

“I will, thank you.”

“KEXP an affiliate of the University of Washington. Support for KEXP comes from viewers like you. To learn more abou—”

Rob quickly hung up the phone. He’d had to get used to fielding these types of question, but he was thankful the years had made him less prone to putting his foot in his mouth. A moment later, he got a text:

Evan: Not bad, buddy.

Rob shrugged. At least he’s happy.

***

Several hours later, the session came to a close. Two more songs had been tracked out, with another demoed for Evan to listen to. There had been a lot of debate internally about whether or not that track needed orchestral backing or if Sam’s part was filling out the space, so Evan was called in to see if he could gather the money for a four-piece orchestra in the first place.

The songs they were making were really something else, if Rob had to be honest with himself. They were vulnerable—more confident. Fewer stadium singles and more introspective pieces.

“We need something fun, I’m telling ya’ll,” Sam huffed as he walked upstairs. He had been saying it for a few hours. Something fun. The album was missing something fun, apparently.

Austin moved to follow Sam up the stairs and talk to him, but Rob let them go. These things normally worked themselves out anyways.

Once again, it was just Jane and Rob. She was putting her mic back up when he stood up from the drum throne and cleared his throat.

“Let me shower and I’ll be ready in ten, yeah?” He said, giving a bright smile. For a few moments, it felt like they were back together. “Maybe afterward we could—”

Rob froze.

Oh yeah. Jared.

“Oh, sorry,” he stammered out. “You’ve got a thing later. I’ll…meet you at the front door?”

He paused for her response, then turned with a smile up the stairs.

Once he was past earshot, he rushed into his room in a panic. The sink cabinets flew open. Without thinking, he took a big swig before realizing what he was doing. He almost tossed the handle back underneath the sink, closed it and turned on the shower.

What the fuck was he doing?

His mind raced throughout the shower and as he dressed himself. He used mouthwash and looked in the mirror.

Real fucking smart, Rob. Real smart. Pre-game the NA meeting. Fucking moron.

He put on a shirt and blow dried his hair.

You’re lucky you stopped yourself. Fucking idiot. Seriously. What’s your problem?

He left the bathroom and put his shoes on at the foot of the bed.

She’s going out with Jared. Jared. She’s got plans. She’s moving on. What are you doing?

He took a deep breath.

That’s right. You’re taking her to get her chip. Look how good she’s doing. What are you doing? What are you doing? What the FUCK are you doing to deserve—

SMACK!

His right cheek burnt bright red from how hard he had struck it.

The thoughts went away after that.

Rob stepped back into his bathroom and used a cold rag to fade the red from his face. After a minute or two, he was good to go.

Heading downstairs, he saw J waiting for him.

“Sorry about the delay,” he said, smiling. “Ready when you are.”

Waiting in a kitchen for Rob was familiar. Their unspoken meeting spot before heading out. It gave Jane butterflies, as if they were preparing to go out on a date, but then, reality would swoop in and remind her.

She was taking Rob to an NA meeting.

But according to her sponsor, Jane was bringing Austin along. She knew mentioning it would cause an argument between the two, but Jane knew she wanted Rob to be the one to see it. He needed to know that all she’d gone through - and what he witnessed for himself - was never going to happen again.

Maybe it’d inspire him a bit to ease up on the alcohol. Or, perhaps he’d see that Jane had it in her the whole time, and he would ponder how things could have gone if he stayed.

Lost in a trance, Rob appearing before her.

Jane always wondered if fatherhood changed him. If he’d dress differently, talk differently. But seeing him ready to go meeting her in the kitchen just like he’d done a hundred times before, it felt like she transported back in time.

As she worked to slowly peal back some layers over the past week, it was apparent he was still so much…himself. Not that he hadn’t matured or aged; it was obvious Jane was still very attracted to him if not more than before. But compared to the stoic twenty-something year old that she last saw, there was no stark contrast.

The only thing, really, was the subtle softness that replaced his edges. When he spoke of home, his daughter, or even now when the band was having a great session downstairs - there was this crack in the exterior that was formerly stone. His body language, his expression, the warmth his eyes, his tone. She remembered it fondly. In their happiest moments together, how ever few there were, he displayed the same mannerisms. Looking back, Rob always took the paternal role, especially when Jane was using. It was his way of loving her, and she spent so many late nights missing that feeling. To be truly cared for was something she hadn’t felt since.

Jane gave him a gracious smile and nodded towards the door, where an Uber was waiting in the driveway. “Let’s do it.”



It wasn’t until she was closing in on the podium did the wave of anxiety hit her. The mumbles and shuffles of a room full of people were muffled under a ringing in her ears, and her stomach churned with the familiar feeling of nausea.

”Its not a stage. It’s not a show.”

Once reaching the podium, she leaned her elbows into the wood and took a deep breath. “M-my name’s Jane, and I’m an addict.” The crowd responded, but a few murmurs confirmed that some may have recognized who she was.

After swallowing the lump in her throat, she pushed forward. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been to a meeting in years. And since this run, I’ve barely spoken about my sobriety at all.” Tears already streamed down her cheeks, and she removed the glasses to wipe them away. A few more murmurs, a few more speculations.

“I had my first drink by ten - probably my first cigarette by then, too. Mom continued to get trashed and make terrible friends, and I kept scoring more and more. My friends thought it was so cool,” she chuckled, then moved herself away from the mic to sniffle.

“It made that feeling go away - you know…that void of emptiness you feel so deep inside, gnawing away at you. But as I kept filling it, it got bigger.”

Her eyes met Rob’s, and she nodded slightly to him before continuing. “Then you start losing your friends. People you love, t-the irreplaceable ones,” her voice wavered, her eyes now unfocused over the faces in front of her. “I lost everything important to me…or maybe destroyed is the better word. I didn’t even try to stay clean the first two times. The pain became this unbearable cycle. But uh, finally, it was enough. I couldn’t fucking take the pain anymore, the loss. The emptiness became all consuming, I…”

Jane squeezed her eyes shut. “Five years ago, I stumbled into my third and final detox after I had starting coming down from the speedball I banged earlier that night. My arms were cut up and bleeding. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember giving them my things and crying for them to fix it. And uh,” Jane smiled, wiping the last of her tears. “I did it. I figured it out.” Members of the crowd began to woo for her, but the rest waited for her to finish. “It’s still a struggle, every day. But I know I’m finally struggling for something worth it. I’m Jane, and I’m celebrating 5 years free of alcohol, cocaine, heroin, and sex.”

The crowd clapped for her, and she waved in embarrassment before accepting her chip from the moderator, then signaling for Rob to meet her outside as she descended the stage.

Before he could get a word out, Jane swiped the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, along with the lighter, and took a large drag once she got it lit.
It was all in one swift movement, a maneuver she had mastered by the time they were both legally allowed to smoke. If Jane’s chest wasn’t pounding with anxiety, she may have second guessed acting too familiar with Rob, but the nicotine making her face tingle made a smile form.

“Thought I was gonna puke,” she admitted, peering up to Rob. “Oh,” she said abruptly, cigarette dangling out of her mouth as she dug in her pocket. “You get a souvenir.” The keychain was white with gold lettering - the words ‘just for today’ inscribed. “Like a participation trophy,” she winked, but her expression change as she saw the meeting begin to pour out of the doors. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?”



Later that evening, Jane was scrambling towards the kitchen as the doorbell rang. Her hair was slicked back into a sleek pony tail that ran down her bare back, exposed by a black one piece she wore under a pair of baggy light wash jeans. She went so far as to add a red lip and a pair of golf hoops, and before leaving her room, she couldn’t help but stop in the mirror and admire her work. The only other pop of color were her royal blue flats.

She had let Austin have her journal for the night, only for him to use if they needed some inspiration during their writing session. He was also instructed to put it right back as soon as they were done.

”Whats the big deal?” Austin grinned deviously. “Is it your diary?”

Jane rolled her eyes, instantly regretting that she’d handed it over. “Kind of,” she whispered. “And plus, we all know now that my writing is not ‘very subtle.’” She was, of course, discussing the radio interview Rob had earlier that day.

“That song wasn’t that obvious-“

“Well, how about the one in my notebook where I talk about the unborn imaginary son I had? And how I’m sorry for what I did to him?”

Austin remained silent.

“Or-or the song titled Jackson, where a woman gets left in her darkest moment but still is in love with the person who did it? Or how about the notebook page or two that just repeats “FUCK MAE.” What about-“

“Okay!” Austin erupted, placing his hands on her shoulders, calming the anxiety ricocheting in her chest. “I’ll keep an eye on it. You, you need a new notebook.”

Jane chuckled. “I’ll add it to my grocery list.”

Austin let Jared in, and the two hugged. “Long time,” Austin started. “How you been, man?”

“I’ve been good. Business has been good. The company has been good,” Jared winked as Jane approached him. “Happy birthday,” he whispered, pulling out a dozen roses behind him.

She couldn’t help but blush as she thanked him quietly and climbed the counter to grab a vase from one of the cabinets, handing him her longboard and overnight bag he insisted she bring in case she decided to stay at the room he had for the weekend - a ten minute drive from their AirBNB in Downtown LA. Jane didn’t give him much of an answer before when he’d brought it up. It was a nice thought to have a haven to run to if downtown turned overwhelming, but she also knew what it could lead Jared to think.

Rather, Jane decided to handle things as they came that evening. Overthinking what could go wrong would likely lead to her cancelling, something she no longer wanted to do. She needed to get her life back again.

“Sam, Rob,” Jared greeted the two, giving them a wave.

Once the flowers were in water, Jane was starting to scoot him to the door; starting their date by reuniting with Rob might make things even more awkward.

“Alright, alright,” he said calmly, wrapping an arm around her in the doorway. “Wait, Rob.”

What? What could he possibly want to tell him?

“My sister’s coming to visit next week. She heard that I was seeing J and,” he looked down to smile at Jane, and she forced one back, “and she said she wanted to see you.” He pulled a post-it note out of his pocket and threw it on the counter. “Her number. You ready?”

Jane nodded, putting her head down and following him, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that Adrianna wanted to see Rob. And if you asked her about it now - why she looked back at Rob before leaving - Jane couldn’t explain it. It’s like she was being pulled in two directions. But before the door closed, she looked back to Rob, hoping that he’d somehow read her mind. That her dating Jared was just her moving on. That seeing him with Adrianna would feel like the knife being pushed even further in.

But all she did was wave before the door shut right. Good enough?



Around 1:00 AM, Austin saw Jared’s car climbing up the driveway. But when the cameras also showed him exiting the car alone and banging on the door, he knew something was wrong.

“Come on,” he said to the two before dashing up the stairs and nearly sliding into the front door on his socks.

As he opened the door, Jared put his hands up, his face solemn. “Look, she’s not answering my calls for the past four hours. I just want to apologize. Can you get her?”

“Dude,” Austin’s eyes widened. “We thought she was still with you.”

Panic washed over Jared’s face, and he began to pace in their foyer, and Austin scrambled on his phone until the line began to trill.

“Jane? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I was just about to call you,” Jane sighed. Her voice had an extra layer of rasp on top. “I’m at St. Maria’s. I’m completely fine, just ate shit on my board. They’re gonna discharge me soon, I think.” Jane would get into the details of her concussion, road rash, and sprained ankle later.

“I’m coming right now,” Austin replied, going into go mode. “J’s in the hospital.”

“Aust? Just you, okay? Promise?”

He paused, but eventually gave in, his eyes looking between Jared and Rob. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Thanks,” she quickly said before letting him know she’d text him her room number.

“Jane’s fine, ate shit on her longboard.”

“Damn it,” Jared sighed, “this is all my fault, I-“

“Save it. Go home, man,” Austin sighed, politely scooting him out the door. “You can call her tomorrow. As for you two,” he pointed to Rob and Sam, his keys dangling from his fingers, “I’ll bring her home.”

And without a word, the two exited and went in their separate cars, the home’s heavy front door clicking shut behind them.