Rye

The door closes as softly as possible behind me, guided by my palm. My heart is still racing and I have nothing on. I stop int the bathroom for towel and wrap it around my waist as the knocking on the door grows more insistent. I look through the peephole to see Tony, our guitarist, outside. Opening the door, I'm careful to relax my face so he can't see how annoyed I am. We are supposed to be bonding as opposed to me fucking the singer's daughter. I'm in the wrong, not him.

"What's up?" I ask. Tony is clearly intoxicated.

"Come party with us," he says. "You've been killing it, and we should celebrate!"

"GET OVER HERE!" Eric screams from down the hall.

Our security look stressed. There's one man posted at the end of the hall and obviously he's entirely sober and worried about complaints.

I wave down the hall and then offer a look of apology to security.

"Alright, man," I agree. "I'll be down in a second."

He doesn't allow me the chance to close the door, instead he pushes it open and steps inside my room. "I'll wait here. How's the mini bar?" he asks.

Tony begins to search through the bottles offered as I grab some clothes from my bag and quickly start to throw them on.

"Help yourself," I tell him. But he already has. Two bottles of vodka down. If there is one thing I've learned about them over the years, it's that these men can put down some alcohol.

"My room has a great view," he tells me as he slides open the curtain and exposes the parking lot. "Yours not so much," he says with a chuckle. He pulls them closed, but with very little real effort so there's still a gap. As I move to fix the problem he's created, he stands in front of the door between mine and Launi's room. I freeze.

"Oh shit, I remember these," he says, tapping his finger on the door. "We used to get rooms like this when I was little, and we'd go across the country with my parents. They'd stay in one room and give me and my brother the other. But the doors always connected."

Without another thought, he twists the knob and pulls the door open. I nearly pass out. I'm sure what he will find is Launi sprawled out perfectly on the bed next door. Instead, he finds the back of her door. The relief I feel is immeasurable. Close call once again. Another reminder we are playing with fire.

When we get to the room down the hall, the party has clearly been underway this whole time. Jack is the only member missing, but everyone else is present along with a lot of the roadies. There are lines of coke on the dresser and Launi's dad has clearly been partaking in everything. Nothing new. I grab a beer and sit in the small chair next to the desk. The crew has brought in anything that might serve as s seat. The room is packed, and loud.

I spent my entire high school years partying. I traveled with a smaller band and did shows across the city in hopes of making it on our own. At one point, I believed this was the goal, to sit in a room with your bandmates and celebrate a great performance and then get obliterated in the spoils of your success. It's what my dad had preached my whole life. On my eighteenth birthday I was face down in a gutter outside a show, not sure if I was going to make it home. It didn't feel like a victory; it felt like the fast track to a very dark place. Ultimately, this is the lifestyle that took my father. We can argue about the date he left, but it was far before the day he actually died. This isn't my goal.

"Rye, you son-of-a-bitch," Launi's dad says as he comes over and shakes my hand. "You're almost as good as your old man." It doesn't sound like a compliment, but knowing my dad's work, it absolutely is. "I think we're going to do this thing," he says.

I hope he's right. "Thanks Justin," I say. "You have great songs. Glad I can do them justice."

"Oh, you do. And with Launi posting about you non-stop, those young girls are eating it up." He sits on the edge of the bed facing me. "It reminds me of when we first started. Your dad and I were about your age when we went on tour the first time."

Their success story is burned into my brain. I've been told it a million times. But there is more than one version. There is the version my dad and Justin tell, the one the media tells, and the one my mom tells. I'm sure the truth is somewhere in the middle.

"Must have been wild," is all I say in response.

"Not something I really want Launi involved in forever, but this experience will give her a jump start into her career. I'm hoping she will go the movie route instead," he tells me. I think both industries are evil. If he thinks Launi will be better protected there, he hasn't been keeping up on the news or the entire Me Too movement.

"She's doing good work," I say.

"Big of you to admit that. I know you guys don't get along," he tells me. I am about to argue but think better of it. "I have always liked it that way," he says, his eyes appear surprisingly sober as he looks into my own. "I want different for her, Rye. I want her to have a husband that comes home. I've seen what our careers do to the women that love us. It's best she not fall in love with a fucking musician." He laughs and grabs my shoulder giving it a little shake. "I don't have to tell you that. You've seen what it did to your mom."

"Yes," I agree.

"I used to worry about you two when you were younger. Thought you might be destined to be together," he confesses. He looks down and his voice grows somber. "Your dad and I used to joke about it. We'd say that you guys were going to end up together and leave us and this lifestyle behind. It would be our karma for raising you under this spotlight."

My body stiffens at his words. My father never told me that. There are always little pieces of him I still discover and it's a shock every time; something new to process.

"Well, that's neither here nor there," he says, as if he's shaking off the sadness of my father's memory. "I think that guard has her attention. I'm going to make sure I keep him assigned to her. It's a good thing you have that little actress. She is exactly who you should be with. Mutually beneficial lifestyles. You two would get each other."

I hate that he's right. Launi should lead a lifestyle away from all of this, with a husband that comes home to her every night. She should never worry that her partner is in some hotel across the country or even the world. She deserves better. I've already signed the deal for this life. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make to right some of the wrongs my father's choices created for my mom. It'll be worth it.

However, I am not happy about the guard. As much as I understand and agree with what Justin is saying, I don't want to watch it happen right in front of me. When this tour is over, Launi can go back to her life that I will only ever hear about through our mothers and that's for the best.