Rye

Very few things can beat a good dive bar when it comes to wanting to escape for a while and pretend that all the bad things in the world don't exist outside that old, often sticky door. When I saw this place opened every day at 6am, I knew it catered to the local alcoholics and probably wouldn't be a trendy spot people my age would likely be. I was right. The fifth-or was it the sixth shot of whiskey went down smoother than the first few. The bartender isn't even bothering to clear each glass, letting the ruins of the last hour pile up on the old wood bar.

I'm the youngest person in here by at least ten years, and while my drinking might be alarming somewhere else, I can tell from the wear in the stain of the oak beneath my elbows patrons have often sat here longer than I ever could. I feel hot, but I don't dare to take off my hoodie. This is for me, this moment away from the noise, away from the pressure and the chaos of this tour and most importantly away from Launi and the way I can't make it all better for her.

After the concert I saw I had three missed calls from my mom and two text messages letting me know they've reached out to her again wanting my father's debts to be paid. She'll only be able to put them off a little longer, promising payment from accounts long empty. My head throbs as I wipe my hand down my face hoping to clear my thoughts. She is thousands of miles away and I can't protect her. It's a gamble: stay around to be there to answer to the collectors myself, or go on this tour in hopes of giving them what they're after so they will leave us alone forever.

At least Launi has security while she's with the band so I don't have to worry about her tonight. The bartender slides me another shot and as I toss the dry brown whisky back, I pray it erases the knowledge the security she has is most definitely trying to get in her pants. He'd be stupid not to, it's all I've been thinking about for days. Does that make me an asshole? I chuckle to myself and wipe my lips with the back of my hand. Yes. It makes me an asshole, but in my defense, sex with her is the cherry on my favorite cake. 

Do cherries go on cakes? No. Maybe I mean ice cream?

"You want some water?" asks the bartender. I must look as fucked up as I feel. I nod.

I should get back to the hotel. Blowing out a flammable breath, I begin to search for my phone. Back pocket? No. Front pockets? No.

The water replaces a few shot glasses as it's delivered into my view. "You looking for this?" the man asks as he unplugs my cell from behind the bar and hands it to me.

"Ahh, yes," I say vaguely remembering now I had asked him to charge it when I first got here. I wasn't even able to respond to my mom because the phone powered down as I tried to call her back.

I tap in the passcode three times and finally have success. Now there are twenty-seven texts and about ten missed calls. Shit. I don't want to deal with this tonight. I know I should have told someone where I was going, but that would have defeated the whole point of disappearing for a few hours alone. I didn't want a babysitter.

I text the head of security and let him know where I am, then I wait outside leaned up against an alley wall for the dark car to come pick me up. I'm hoping it's the young guard watching Launi so I can go to sleep knowing he is on duty and not hanging out in her room. I'm not that lucky though, and the driver seems both pissed and relieved to retrieve me.

"Sorry man," I say, trying to fold my large body into back of the SUV.

"Caused quite a stir," he replies. "We have people out looking for you all over the city."

Not much more I can say so I tip my head back and close my eyes. I'm an adult, I didn't sign away my freedom. Taking off wasn't a good look, but so long as I didn't do anything destructive, I'm not in breach of my contract.

At the hotel, the driver parks and walks into the lobby beside me. I'm exhausted and wasted. The day has been long, and I can't remember the last meal I ate. Too late for that now, all I want is to lay down and sleep this off.

He presses the elevator button and rides up to my floor with me in silence. I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror inside the small lift. I know my eyes are bloodshot and my skin is slick with the sweat of alcohol and bar smoke.

When we get to my floor, he hands me a key and points down the hall. "She's waiting for you," he says.

For a moment, I think our secret is out. Did she say something to everyone when they couldn't find me? Would she have blown this whole thing up if she thought it would help? Fuck. Her dad is going to kill me. The sensation of my stomach falling makes me nauseous. I reach out and hold myself up with the wall. The tour will be over and my chance at fixing all this shit in my life will be gone—all because I couldn't keep my hands off the one thing I'm not allowed to have.

"You ok?" the guard asks.

"Yea, man," I answer, but the hallway seems to be shrinking in size while growing deeper at the same time. I close my eyes tightly.

Breathe.

The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady. My shoes suddenly heavy and unmovable as if they are glued to the carpet.

Breathe.

I'll have to go home and tell my mom. We'll have to figure something else out. I'll have to look her in the face and say I'm like my father, easily distracted and willing to put my selfish needs above the family's. Shame slams into me and I stumble forward, the whisky from earlier threatening to make an appearance at the back of my throat.

"I've got you," the guard says, pulling my arm over his shoulder and guiding me down the hall.

The disappointment I feel in myself is only magnified when the thought of Launi being in my room seems to soothe something deep inside. I've ruined our futures tonight because I haven't grown up enough to stop running when things get hard. If only I'd stayed—but let's be real—staying isn't in my genes.

I'm going to be sick.

The card is slid across the lock, and the small click signals him to twist the handle and push it open, finally delivering me to physical safety but mental ruin.

"Jesus Rye," Tinsley says, climbing out of bed.

"I'll help him," the guard says, motioning for her to pull back the covers.

I feel trapped. I'm relieved but also devastated. Tinsley is just one more brick in this wall of destruction I'm building. I'll ruin her too.

I can't breathe.

Why is it so hot? I can't stand it. My fingers grip the hem of my hoodie and I begin to struggle with it like an animal trapped in a cage. By the time I get it yanked over my head, I'm red and sweaty, scratches stinging my back where my fingers raked the offending fabric from my skin.

The guard retreats and I stumble the last few steps, falling face-first into the metaphoric bed I've made for myself.