Launi

"Tell me about bridezilla," I say as I lay back on the hotel bed.

"Someone should be filming this for TV because she's a monster," Parker groans. "I'm not even kidding; she sent back the rose pedals because they were the wrong shade of pink. It was like a Steal Magnolias moment, Launi, because none of us know what she's talking about. They are light pink, who gives a fuck if they are blush or bashful."

"Your sister does," I answer with a laugh. "Come on, you knew she was like this when you agreed to be in the wedding—she's your sister after all. You've known her your whole life."

I can hear the rumple of the bed beneath Parker as she flops over to a more comfortable position. "Ughh, come on. It's not fair I'm here with a psychopathic color coordinating perfectionist, and you are on tour with a band."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm in a city I don't know, in a hotel room with no fun amenities while you're in a cute beach town laying in the sun all day with the sole goal being to get a perfect tan," I tell her.

"Ok, yes, that does make me feel better," she jokes. "Thanks bestie."

There's a knock on my door which startles me. "Hold on," I say, making my way to the door.

"Isn't it past midnight where you are?" Parker asks.

I don't answer though because I have my face pressed up against the door, trying to see who's in the hallway from my peephole.

"Hey Sean," I say as I swing the door open.

"Ohhhh heyyyy Sean," Parker says playfully.

He can't hear her, but it still makes me laugh, only he doesn't even smile back at me. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Have you seen Rye?" Sean asks rushed.

"What do you mean?" I reply, my brain racing to process what's happening. I had left the show before the encore and headed back to the hotel.

"He took off from the venue, and the band hasn't seen him since," Sean states.

"Can't you just ask whoever is security for him tonight?"

"We lost him," Sean admits.

"THEY LOST HIM?" Parker yells into my ear.

I pull the phone away and give Sean a tight smile. "I haven't seen him since the show. I can get my shoes on and help look," I suggest, starting to back away from the door in search of my Vans.

"Don't leave the room," he warns.

"Ok," I say helplessly. "Please let me know when he's been found."

Sean nods and then closes my door. Where could he have gone? It doesn't make any sense.

"That's weird," Parker says. I barely hear her from where my phone is dangling in my hand.

I put her back up to my ear. "I don't get it. Why would he take off without letting anyone know where he is?"

"Come on Launi," Parker says in a cadence very similar to mine just moments ago, "You knew he was like this when you agreed to the tour. You've known him your whole life after all," she repeats my earlier sentiment back to me.

"Touche" I tell her.

"This isn't the first time he's taken off and left everyone to wonder where he is," she reminds me. "Remember that last summer?"

"How could I ever forget," I tell her softly as I lay back down on the bed. I close my eyes and try to keep the memories from then from crashing back, but it's too late.

Rye has a habit of running. He doesn't leave notes or have screaming arguments before taking off like other people in my life. No, he leaves with a silence and finality that teaches you to not bother with the search. If he wants to disappear, he will, so now we just have to wait to see how long he will be gone this time.

"I bet he isn't thinking about being recognizable. He's in the city where the band is playing and being promoted." Parker says. She's right.

"Yea, I bet people will post him if they recognize him," I tell her. "I'm going to go. I'll text you if I hear anything."

"Ok. I'll text you if the linens don't meet her expectations," she counters.

"Thanks. I'll be waiting on pins and needles," I say with a small laugh.

"Same. Bye."

I check Instagram immediately. I search his name and hope he's tagged. That was not my brightest moment as my screen is filled with thousands of videos from the tour. There's no way to filter out any of it other than including the city and hoping for the best. I spend hours, combing through videos and waiting on word from Sean that he's back. By 3am, my eyes are too heavy to keep open and I've heard nothing. The buses don't leave until tomorrow evening and I'm not sure what the plan will be if they can't find him before the scheduled departure time.

At some point, this might turn into my first PR nightmare. If Rye doesn't come back, the tour will have to be put on hold until someone else can replace him. It's a thought I don't even want to give any power to. I don't want to think it or ever say it out loud because it would be a disaster for everyone involved. The pit in my stomach reminds me of the first summer he didn't come back to the cabin. I had waited for him to show up along with all the other kids and he never did. I had spent the next few summers giving up on the idea he would ever return. He was a bother and a menace, but a part of him was also familiar. He was something I had been able to count on for years, a presence that stayed consistent when everything else felt chaotic. No matter where my family moved, no matter if my parents were together or separated or back together, I always had the summer at the cabin with Rye and my brother to antagonize me...until the summer I didn't.