Rob could barely get his pants on before the second call from an all-too-impatient Uber driver hit his phone. He mashed ‘accept’ and tossed the phone into a wedge between his ear and shoulder. “Thirty seconds, max, I’m sorry, bye,” he practically listed off. He could hear the start of a reply before he hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. His door flew open as he pressed on to the staircase. Before he could even register her, Jane slipped past with a quick ‘good luck!’ He was halfway down the staircase before calling out a “thank you!” Within another ten seconds, the door to the Uber shut and they were off. The proceeding hour and a half was slow and fast all the same. The hilly landscapes in Orange County soon gave way to familiar territory. It felt like a nostalgia trip on a speed run. One street they flew past, Rob could distinctly remember meeting up with a man he met on Craigslist for a cheap pair of drum heads. The next, he remembered brushing past paparazzi with Jane on their way back home. It was all too much. The flask he had slipped in his pocket seemed to burn for his attention. But luckily it was his phone which got it first—buzzing sharply and ripping him out of his trance. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s me,” came Mae’s soft reply. Rob’s ‘dad mode’ kicked in sharply as he sat up in his seat. As with all calls with Mae these days, it was terse, succinct, and disquieting. “How’s it going?” Rob began. “All fine, Elle’s fine, just misses you is all.” “I miss her too.” “I know that.” A beat passed between them. Then: “I hear you’re teaching kids how to play at your Guitar Center today.” “I just found out myself. Your people are good.” “New album coming out soon?” “We have some songs down.” “I heard ‘Everything’ on the radio the other day.” “Yeah?” “Glad it’s going well for you.” “Thanks.” A full four agonizing seconds passed before Rob took the bait. “So,” he started, “is it going well for you?” “Me? Oh… yeah, I think so. Got the main LP sorted, just working on some stuff we can push out early before the cycle starts. My manager says if we launch with our best work it’s going to get trashed simply because it’s new, so whatever comes out first is going to take the brunt of any criticism. So, the plan is to launch something soft first before doing a music video.” “That’s nice.” “It’s been amazing, Rob. Back in the studio, trying out new stuff… you know, when you aren’t doing it for the money, it’s a completely different experience.” “Okay.” “Well, I mean–I’m not implying anything there you know, about your finances-“ “I’m well off, Mae. I get what you mean.” “I know that.” “I’m just saying ‘okay,’ there’s nothing behind it.” “Oh. Okay.” Another painful pause. “We’re not going to make our FaceTime call again today,” Mae admitted. “I’m sorry.” “I thought we agreed to seven?” “We did, yes.” “I can’t really do any other time.” “I can do in thirty minutes, but you have this gig set up.” “Could you send a picture? I’d like to recognize my daughter next time I see her.” “That’s really not necessary, Rob.” “Is that what you called to talk about?” “Among other things, yes.” “Which other things?” “This doesn’t feel productive. I guess I’ve said what I needed to say.” “What isn’t productive? I’m asking what else you wanted to talk about.” “There’s something behind that–“ “There’s [i]nothing[/i] behind that.” “If you say so.” “I do. I’m glad the recording is going well.” “Thank you. Everything good on your end? Jane?” “What about her?” “The band–I mean–going well?” “She’s good. We’re good. Hoping to put something out soon. ‘Everything’ did well so we’re aiming for more.” “Can I ask when the release date is?” “…I don’t know. How about yours?” “…still working that one out. But I’ll shoot straight with you, the record guys don’t want me to tell you when we do have a date.” “So you [i]do[/i] have a date?” “…we’re close to one, yes.” “Well, you can tell your ‘record guys’ the father of your daughter needs to know at some point so he can care for her while you’re on promo.” “I’m sure someone can care for her—” “No. Not someone. Me.” “You’ve got a lot going on.” “I’m aware. I’m heading to Guitar Center as we speak.” “I’m keeping my promo in Seattle this time. You don’t need to put yourself out coming all the way up here.” “It isn’t putting myself out, it’s my daughter.” “You know what I mean.” “Sure. Yeah.” “…I have a few meetings in LA next week. Maybe we can work something out?” “Absolutely we can. We’re in Orange County.” “It’ll be short. Maybe three hours? LAX to West Hollywood and back.” “Just text me the details, I know an aquarium nearby she’d like.” “Great. Probably next Tuesday. I’ll see you then?” “I’ll see you then.” “Great. Love you, bye.” “Bye.” Rob hung up the phone and took a deep breath. With each passing year, talking with Mae was becoming a cold war. And knowing how much his own parents argued when he was a kid, keeping it from Elle was getting harder and harder. “Hey, um,” the Uber driver started. “We’re almost there. Looks like a crowd is forming.” Looking out the window of the Uber, Rob could see what he meant. There was a line stretching about fifty feet from the front door all the way around the block. Three or four paparazzi sat on the curb apart from the line, eyes up and darting from car to car. “Thanks for the head’s up,” Rob replied. He pulled out his phone and looked into the camera. On the screen, he could see his eyes had become red and puffy. [i]Had he been crying?[/i] Before he could answer his own thought, the driver passed him a few tissues. “I’ve got an ex-wife too, you know,” he said. “I get it.” “Thanks,” was all he could muster out. He quickly cleaned himself up and ripped the flask from his pocket. He downed about two big gulps before shoving it back into his pocket and straightening himself out. “Hopefully this goes better than that phone call.” -- Dealing with paparazzi was becoming an increasingly normal affair for Rob. While he despised it, he knew it was nothing compared to the level of shit Mae and Jane had to deal with. As the cameras clicked away, he smiled slightly as he shook a few hands and entered inside. A small stage had been set up in here for him—a drum set arranged to his liking was already on stage, mic’ed up and ready to go. “Evan moves fast,” he commented aloud. “He sent over twenty photos the moment he called,” came the response. Turning around. Rob could see who had said it. “…plus, I had a hunch about what you liked.” “Joan, holy [i]shit![/i]” Rob exclaimed. He bear-hugged her before she could get another word out. Joan Owens was the general manager of this Guitar Center way back when he came in with a jar full of crumbled twenties and tens, hoping to buy his first kit. She had even put her own employee discount on there so he could accord the tax. That was over twenty years ago, and here she was like no time had passed at all. “Good to see you too, Robbie,” she replied, patting his back in a way that clearly meant ‘please let go.’ Rob obliged and smiled brighter than he had all day. “You still run this place?” “Yes and no,” came her bright reply. Aside from her auburn hair turning a graceful gray, she seemingly hadn’t aged a day. “I run this place and most of LA county’s locations.” Rob was beaming at that. “Man, I wish you’d called.” “Oh please, I sold you a drum kit, your big break wasn’t me. Plus, you could have called me.” “Fair point.” -- The two-hour stint at Guitar Center flew by after that. Rob talked to a few local reporters, played a few In Bloom songs, and proceeded to sign something-near three hundred papers, bags, drum skins, sticks, and just every merch item he remembered they had ever made. He barely had a moment to say goodbye to Joan before being whisked away yet again. With traffic against him, he had his driver swing him through a drive-thru and scarfed down a burger while on the phone with Evan. “You’ll be back in time for set up, right?” came his first question. “Also, good job.” “Thanks, and yes,” Rob replied. He was more focused on not making a mess of this poor driver’s back seat than Evan’s questioning. “Footage looks good, paparazzi photos came out well, good engagement, good metrics.” “Glad the metrics are good,” Rob said, not even trying to hide his disinterest. “You hear from Mae recently?” “I’m not your mole, Evan.” “I have to ask.” Rob took a deep breath. “…she has a date, but she won’t tell me when it is.” “She’s got good managers, then.” “Not helpful,” Rob interjected. “But she mentioned leading with stuff that won’t be on the album, and a music video.” “I assumed both, but glad to have my suspicions confirmed. Get back soon and sober. Looking forward to the video.” The line cut off after that. -- Back at the AirBnB, recording for ‘Everything’ went off without a hitch. Three takes seemed to take it out of J. Their staging seemed to try to hide her bad foot, but twist it uncomfortably all the same. He desperately wanted to approach her afterwards, but what could he say? Where things stood, they were at a crossroads. His intentions were laid bare, and she reciprocated. Now what? Rob caught Sam and Austin’s glares as he stood up from his cajon and began to help load the vans. They seemed wholly unapproachable now, more than ever. Before he could say anything more he felt her beside him. [i]”Wanna cigarette?[/i] He breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her to the patio. But that relief quickly turned to tension as he watched her try to get the words out. It was an adolescent feeling—like a rollercoaster ride. Rob’s heart pounded in his chest. [i]“I’ve never gotten over you, Rob.”[/i] Rob sucked in a breath to speak, but yet again, for the second time today, he never got the chance. He held it until both Jane and Austin disappeared back into the house. “Fuck,” he breathed out. [i]Why was there never enough time?[/i] -- It was late now, and Rob found himself in the corner of a local Irish pub. The crowd had grown from a weekday night crowd to a Friday night one as word leaked out that all of In Bloom were gracing Orange County with their presence. Fame was a complicated subject for him. His own minor fame had stressed him out enough, but the massive worldwide fame that held at his periphery during the Mae years and the parasitic leeches that clung to J during her down years had more than soured him on the idea. He was positioned between two crew members and Sam sharing war stories on a tour they had been on. Some other regional act Sam had been with in the intervening years. He appreciated not having to talk, but the fourth Guinness of the night burned in his hand. For someone trying to take it easy, this wasn’t exactly a perfect atmosphere. Rob looked over several heads to see J with some others about twenty feet away. From his distance, with the flashing lights and darkness, he couldn’t even tell who she was with. But he was more than confident a bar wasn’t exactly her favorite place to be either. [i]Why were they here? And why did Austin invite J to a bar?[/i] The two had just been to an AA meeting days ago, and while Rob certainly had demons of his own, the idea of bringing J to a bar was incredibly shitty. He had finally had enough of the ruminating. He was going to talk to J. At least, if he could help it. He was tired of trying to find the right time. Clearly, the right time didn’t exist. He left the conversation and crossed half the distance between them before Austin suddenly got in the way. “Hey buddy,” came a bitter greeting from Austin. “Heading out?” “No, just wanted to talk to J,” he replied. His head was buzzing from the music and drinks, and he tried to push aside Austin to continue forward. But Austin blocked his way again. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about something—” “What’s up, man?” Rob skipped the pretense. “Why don’t you want me to talk to her?” Austin’s feigned befuddlement at Rob’s question only pissed Rob off further. “I didn’t say that,” he replied. “Don’t bullshit me, Austin,” Rob said. He was surprised at how angry the words came out. “And why the fuck would you invite her to a bar?” “I wanted to go out with my friends?” “You’re so full of shit.” “And you’re drunk.” “Hey, guys?” The sound of a third voice caught Rob off guard. He turned to his side to see Sam, looking concerned. Rob looked up to see that a few people had opened up a gap between Rob and Austin. Peering eyes were staring from all directions. Without realizing it, they were making a scene. Rob’s fists were already balled. Sam leaned in closer. “Maybe not here.” Rob eyed Austin up and down for a moment, but his eyes showed no remorse. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to deck him for the ‘drunk’ comment. Instead, he gave a weak smile and lightly tapped him with his fist on the shoulder, before downing his Guinness, leaving it at the bar, and turning around. The crowd seemed to part like the red sea as he went into the men’s room. Rob found an open stall, locked himself in, and sat down. The flask in his pocket was downed in another ten seconds. He took a second look at the empty flask, before throwing it [u]hard[/u] against the tile floor. Three tiles cracked and the flask dented as it clattered away. After another thirty seconds, he heard the bathroom door open and shut. On the other end of the stall door, Sam’s muted voice came through. “Aren’t you a little old to be getting into bar fights?” “I didn’t get in a fight, Sam,” Rob replied. “I’m just stressed out.” “Hey, I get it,” Sam said. “I heard what Austin said. I’d get mad too.” “It’s not just that. Mae… I’ve got a lot of home shit on my mind.” “And Evan isn’t helping I presume?” Rob didn’t reply to that. “Maybe let’s talk later, yeah? I picked up an eighth we can smoke at the pool after everyone finishes up here.” The stall door opened, and Rob stepped out. “Let me, uh… get a club soda and I’ll meet back up with you guys in a minute.” Sam nodded. “Don’t be too long in here, weirdo.” He turned on his heel and left with a smile. Trying not to ruminate too hard on dealing with Austin, Rob washed his face and stepped back out into the bar. After snagging his club soda, he took a look around the bar. No Austin or J in sight, but it was a big bar with a lot of smaller rooms they could be in—together or separately. [i]Were they still here? Were they talking?[/i] There was no way to be sure. Rob tried his best to put it aside. His conversation with J would have to wait. What was another few hours after ten years?