Smiling, I squeeze his hand back. It’s a silent thank you. I look from him to Jesse and back again. “What do you guys want? What do you need?”
Ever defers to Jesse, who blows out a breath and twists the bill of his cap from the front to the back. “My first inclination is to say I don’t know because my life’s been out of control for a while, but, selfishly, I’ve loved performing. Hand me a mic and let me act a fool, that’s pretty much the dream job description. I mean, life is hard, but if I can get on stage and make people forget about their problems for an hour while I do the same,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t get much better than that. And to get to do it with Ev has been everything I didn’t know I needed. If there’s any way we can keep this going, I’m all in. Let’s write some songs. Let’s record. Let’s tour. I mean, it sounds like we’ve got about six months to work on it so it doesn’t interfere with your old contract. That’s plenty of time to prepare. But if what you’ve been through is too much and you need out, or need to take a break, or need something completely different, I understand. I don’t want you to do anything that fucks with your head.” He spins the bill back to the front and then takes it off and runs a hand through his thick, unruly blond hair, and puts the hat back in place. “What about you, Ev? What do you want?”
It's the moment of truth. “I want to hunker down in a house on a few acres. Preferably with a view. Somewhere that inspires creativity. And I want to set up a recording studio there. I want rest.” He pauses and thinks. “Or maybe more than rest, I want to quiet some of the noise in my head.” Ever worries at his bottom lip for a few seconds. “When I agreed to go out on the road withyou, getting on stage was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did it for you.”
“Ev—” Jesse starts, but Ever cuts him off.
“No, listen. We were both running from something. But at some point, running from turned into running toward. A new path opened up. I got to do everything I loved—playing music for people—without all the other bullshit. And I met Soph. And, for reasons I’ll never understand, she agreed to come out on the road with us.”
“You guys are fucking hot. That’s the reason,” Lola deadpans.
I shrug with a straight face but then crack a smile.
He smiles too. “Long story short, playing with you, Jess, and being with you, Soph, has brought me back to life. I need to hit the whole Raven reveal and Treachery’s Riot breakup head-on, instead of hiding. I need to find a new attorney and deal with my old label. I’m tired of the threats. And then I want to take our time writing some songs, and recording and producing them, Jess. I want to find a label that’s a good fit and understands our vision. No rushing, no pressure to make decisions we’re not comfortable with. And then I want to tour again but do it my way. That’s what I want.”
Jesse nods and says in a voice that leaves no question. “I’m in.”
Ever looks at me. “We can’t do it without you. I need someone I trust to be my boss.”
“Saying yes should feel scary, but I don’t think a decision has felt more right in my entire life. I know it’s going to be stressful and overwhelming at times, but I’m ready.” I glance over at theTallyfilled with check marks on the wall and smile. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”
thirty
Sophand I are in her bedroom. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, and we’re sitting side by side in bed scrolling through our phones. She’s been responding to emails, and I’m looking at rental houses online. Jess and I need to find a place soon, and we agree that Colorado feels good.
I’ve thought about buying a house for years and putting an end to my van life chapter, but something always holds me back. Buying means putting down roots. My entire life has been transitory. Home was never a place, because that changed almost every year. The rental will be short-term but will help me decide if I’m ready to commit to some permanence. And maybe, just maybe, believe I deserve it.
“How far away is Estes Park?” I ask.
She stops typing and looks at me. “Not far, like an hour and a half. You found something?”
I scroll back up to the top of the listing photos and hand her my phone. “Yeah, it’s kinda perfect.” It’s a two-bedroom cabin on five acres near Estes Park. The great room has a hugefireplace and would be perfect to set up a studio in. And the views are unreal.
She takes her time looking through the photos and then taps the screen to get back to the listing and read the details. “This is exactly what you said you wanted.”
“I know.” It really is. “Would you come with me?”
She hands me the phone. “To look at it? Yeah, of course.”
“No. To live. You, me, and Jess for six months. Could you do that?” A lot of things about the future make me nervous, but not her. She’s the one thing I’m certain of.
Her eyes search my face before they lock with mine, and a small smile emerges. “You know my first instinct is to say no, because of Lola and Benji. But I’m trying to get better at listening to the Mabel voice inside me that’s screaming yes. So yeah, I’d love that.”
Without hesitation I email the listing agent and tell her I’ll take it, sight unseen, if it’s still available.
Yesterday, Soph, Jess, and I read through all the emails and texts I’ve been ignoring from my old label. We listened to voicemails too. Soph also read through my old contract to make sure there weren’t any loopholes I missed. It states I can’t release any original music for twelve months after my final album, which I haven’t done, but they’re trying to say the original songs Jess and I have been performing are now theirs, even though they haven’t been recorded or sold. They’re also threatening to sue for loss of profit on related merch sales. It’s all ridiculous. Soph is documenting it all and constructing a timeline with supporting evidence, so it will be ready to provide to an attorney.
Soph also drafted an official statement, and we released it on our social media accounts and websites for both bands yesterday afternoon. We all agree that controlling the narrative regarding the leak of my identity is paramount, especially since it comes onthe heels of the Treachery’s Riot breakup announcement the day before.
Maybe because we’re hiding out in this little house in the suburbs with people we care about and who care about us, it doesn’t feel scary. It feels safe, and I feel validated. I didn’t see that coming.
Soph’s back on her phone, switching to social media. We all agreed to stick our heads in the sand yesterday after the posts went live and give the world a few hours to digest and do what they will with it. We had a BBQ in the backyard, played badminton, and made s’mores. A few of Benji’s friends joined us. It was the perfect distraction. We can’t ignore reality for long, though.
Jess and I talked to Mom and Big Dave to update them on everything going on with us yesterday too. I don’t think Mom fully grasps the enormity of it, and, honestly, that’s how I prefer it. Big Dave was relieved not to have to keep the secret anymore; I’m happy about that too.
“Hey, Ev? I’ve been thinking a lot about your life with Treachery’s Riot, and I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like. The places you’ve seen. You’ve visited almost every continent, right?”
When she trails off, I answer. “Life on the road is weird. I mean, you got a glimpse of it. Just blow that up. Yeah, I’ve traveled the world, but the schedule was so fast-paced that we rarely got a day off. Most of the time I wasn’t performing was spent on planes, or trains, or buses, or in hotel rooms trying to steal a few hours of sleep. So, I was a weary traveler, but never a tourist. Like, I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, and Shibuya Crossing, and Christ the Redeemer from the window of a hotel room or a car driving by, but they didn’t feel real. Even when I look back at photos I took, it feels like the memories belong to someone else. Does that make sense?”
