Chapter Text
1
“Allie Jay! Allie Jay!” The thunderous roar from the audience rumbled through the Madison Square Garden.
It was the final night of the tour and the house was packed, every seat in the enormous arena was filled with a screaming fan who was there to see the reigning princess of pop, Allie Jay. The stage was in the round meaning there were no sections of seating blocked off behind the stage, everything was right there in the center, laid bare and exposed. The thunderous chants came from every single direction possible.
“Encore! Encore! Encore!” The crowed screamed before returning to the chant of “Allie Jay!”
They all knew an encore was coming and it always seemed strange to him that they'd be yelling for it as if they would be surprised when it happened.
Neil Josten stood in his section of the stage in the dark, flexing his sore fingers from the nearly two hours straight of playing one instrument or another, it was approximately the same location he'd stood on every tour for the last five years. The band leader always stays in relatively the same spot, halfway between the artist and the backup band.
“Allie Jay incoming in 30.” The small earpiece in his ear crackled, signaling him of the incoming pop star.
“Almost time to end this.” Neal grumbled to himself.
“You know we can all hear you.” A light and airy female voice chirped into his ear.
Neal laughed and let his guitar go slack with only the strap keeping it secured to his body as he bowed his arms back. “You're counting down the last few minutes faster than any of us, Allison.”
“I'm still Allie Jay for the next six minutes, Nate.” Allison laughed and he could hear her rolling her eyes.
“Whatever you say, Allison.” Neal scoffed.
The the rest of the world she was Allie Jay, worldwide mega star and pop music icon, but to him she was just Allison Reynolds, best friend of fifteen years and closest thing to family he had left. To the rest of the world he was Neil Josten, band leader for Allie Jay and one of the most successful song writers in the current music world, but to Allison he was just Nate, the scrappy ten year old she found hiding in the shed on the outskirts of her parents property one night over a decade ago.
“On my way up,” Allison sighed, “switching off. Make it a good final encore, Nate.”
Neil rolled his eyes and gripped his guitar back in his hands. 3,2,1 he counted down in his head before running his guitar pick of the strings as the lights began to rise and the stadium exploded to life.
Oh my, oh my, oh my
Oh my, oh my, oh my
Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my
Allison's recorded voice blew threw the speakers. In just a few more seconds she'd have her headset attached to her head and she'd be rising up from the center of the stage.
Neil let another strum go across his guitar before turning back to his drummer with a slight nod. He knew he didn't have to, they'd done this exactly 150 times over the last six months but it was still a force of habit.
The drummer began to pound a thick beat into the air as the lights sprung completely to life and large plumes of fire shot through the stage. He turned slightly away from them, unable to focus on them for fear of being consumed by old memories. He'd have to fight harder for no fire on the next tour. As it was, he and Allison almost sacked the tour director a week before the start of the first leg because he wouldn't relent on the continuous use of fire thorough the entire show. Neil finally came to a silent compromise with himself and told Allison that if she could get it down to just one song he could deal with it. Allison, ever the charmer, told the director that if he liked fire so much she would gladly take him out back and introduce him to some before begrudgingly agreeing to the flames for the finale. At least if there had to be fire it would be at the end.
Fuck pop music and all it's need for flash and awe.
Neil quirked his head as he hard the sound of the hydraulics opened the door in the middle of the stage and smiled to himself as he saw a tiny thumbs up rise through and and angle itself towards him. Allison, for all her diva moments and tempter tantrums, was still the kindest person he'd ever met.
“Give 'em hell, Allie Jay.” Neil whispered to himself as Allison sprung from the trap door and the crowd began to lose it's collective fucking mind.
It ain't my fault you keep turning me on
It ain't my fault you got, got me so gone
It ain't my fault I'm not leaving alone
It ain't my fault you keep turning me on
He still couldn't stop cringing at the lyrics. They were certainly not his finest work. He and Allison had written the song together as a joke one night while she was high out of her mind on some pot she'd gotten from one of the stage hands. Every time she sang it he remembered how much time he'd spent that night laughing at all of her insane rhyme schemes and melodies before he gave in and wrote one of the most mind numbing songs they'd ever collaborated on. Of course it had to be her biggest hit yet.
I can't talk right now
I'm looking, and I like what I'm seeing
Got me feeling kinda shocked right now
Couldn't stop right now
Even if I wanted, gotta get it, get it, get it, when it's hot right now
He eyed the mic in front of him. It was almost time for his backing vocals and he cursed Allison every night he had to sing this fucking song. But no, she always had to insist that he at least sang one line of every song they wrote together with her. “We're a team, Nate.” she says, “You're the brains, I'm the brawn. Sing the fucking song with me and shut the fuck up.”
Of course it's easy for her, she has Allie Jay to hide behind. He's still Neil and Neil has to sing the dumb ass lines that earned him a nice six figure paycheck the day it hit number one on the charts. He took a deep breath and leaned into the mic, holding onto the fact that it was the last time he had to deal with this stupid song for at least a few months.
Oh my god, what is this?
Want you all in my business
Baby, I insist
Please don't blame me for what ever happens next
At least by singing a different verse every night it kept Allison on her toes. He rolled his eyes when he saw her flip him a bird in the middle of one of her more complicated dance sequences.
Call her what you want but no one could deny that Allison was the real deal. She sang live, she had a hand in writing almost all of her shit (even if it was mind numbing), and she had a tight and precise choreographed routine to go along with every single song on tour. She was a hard worker and 95% of the reason he even got out of the bed in the morning. He could never let Allison down, not after everything she did for him all those years ago when she found him bleeding and broken in the corner of that shed.
He was pulled from his memories by the roar of the crowd and he knew he'd missed the crown jewel of the entire performance, the part of the routine where Allison dropped into a full slit before being picked up by her dancer and thrown across the stage into the arms of another. She always had a thing for drama.
No, I-I-I-I can't be responsible
If I-I-I-I get you in trouble now
See you're-'re-'re-'re too irresistible
Yeah, that's for sure
So if I put your hands where my eyes can't see
That you're the one who's got a hold on me
No, I-I-I-I can't be responsible, responsible
It ain't my fault
Neil played on for the rest of the song with just his muscle memory as he zoned out. He was more tired than he'd care to admit. The touring schedule was brutal, they were in a different city every single night and sleeping soundly on a tour bus for maybe an hour or two. He'd always been thankful that he at least got to take up one of the more comfortable beds on Allison's flagship bus of the rolling armada. It was far more lavish and comfortable than the other three buses that were designated for the band and dancers.
Of course, it always led to rumors that started every year like clockwork. Apparently he and Allison had been secretly married for at least the last five years and had three children that they'd kept hidden from the world. It didn't bother him, Allison was essentially his sister and the media didn't need to know how deep their bond went, they didn't need to know that he'd never once thought of Allison, or anyone else for that matter, in a remotely sexual way.
He was feeling generous and it was the last night of the tour so he bit his lip and leaned into the mic to sing his least favorite line of the song, the line he knew Allison always died when he sang.
Certain bad boy smooth, body hotter than a summer
I don't mean to be rude, but I'd look so damn good on ya
The song came to an end soon after but the crowd didn't quiet, they continued with their screaming and crying and yelling for Allison. Neil just rolled his eyes and began to play the chords to the outro music that Allison normally descended from the stage to but tonight was different from the rest and Allison was apparently feeling sentimental.
“Good night, New York City!” Allison screamed into her headset as she waved to her adoring crowd, “Cut the music, Nate.”
Neil rolled his eyes and stopped his fingers on the guitar and held a palm up to the band behind him to signal them to cease.
“I just want to give all of you guys here my deepest thanks, I do all of this for you and when I come out to a crowd like this it makes all the hard days worth it. These last few months have been insane and I'm looking forward to my much needed break, but don't worry, I wont stay gone too long.” Allison laughed and the crowd went insane once again.
“Since we're all being recorded right now for my concert special on HBO I want to call someone up here to say hi to the camera.” Alison grinned.
“Oh no.” Neal sighed, knowing full well what was coming next.
“Everyone give a round of applause for my talented band leader, partner in song writing crime, and best friend, Nate Josten!” Allison threw a wink his way and turned on her heels to beckon him over.
He relented and walked towards her open arms. There was no need to refuse her, if only for the fact that it would create a PR nightmare.
“Say hi to the people watching at home on HBO, Nate.” Allison laughed as she pulled him in my his arm.
“Hi to the people watching at home on HBO, Neil.” Neil groaned as a slight smile crossed over his face.
Allison's only response was an eye roll and a smack on his ass as she pushed him away. That will quiet the rumors. “Goodnight, I love you!”
Neil let his guitar roar to life again and he played her off and quieted it soon after as the lights came up and the twenty thousand fans began to slowly make their way out of the arena.
Neil sat his guitar on its stand as the rest of the band came to a halt and headed towards the stairs to make his way under the stage. He only had a second of alone time before he was jumped from behind. He didn't tense or fight back, he knew exactly who had clawed his way onto his back.
“We survived another one, Nate.” Allison laughed and placed a kiss at the crown of his head.
“Yeah,” Neal laughed, rolling the tension of the night out of his shoulders and savoring the quiet moment with his friend, “and I only added one scar to my collection this time.”
Allison let out a long sigh before smiling again, “We riding to the after party together?”
Neil bit his lip, it was the moment he'd been dreading all night. “I'm not going.”
“Nathaniel Josten, you shut your whore mouth!” Allison gasped.
“Allison, I've been to every after party on this entire tour, you know I'm always miserable.” Neil sighed as he winced at the usage of his first name.
“But this is the last after party!” Allison whined and stomped her foot, forgetting she was in thigh high stiletto boots and braced herself against Neil before she fell over.
“And if it weren't in the city I would go.” Neil rolled his eyes, “You can't tell me you didn't expect me to cut out early when I'm ten minutes from my apartment.”
“You don't even like your apartment.” A soft voice laughed from over his shoulder.
“Thanks for the back up, Renee!” Allison laughed and pushed Neil aside to hug her.
Renee Walker had been Allison's personal assistant for the last four years and was her second closest friend behind Neil. He liked her well enough and could always have good time if it was just the two of them but they never really connected the way you'd think two people that share the same best friend would. They were each part of a different sections of Allison's world. Neil was the best friend in the more grounded and creative universe, the Allison Reynolds word and Renee was the best friend in the wild and crazy celebrity universe of the Ally Jay world. It worked for all three of them.
“If we're going to argue you should at least be in something more comfortable.” Neil rolled his eyes and waved his hand up and down Allison's scantily clad figure.
“Good idea.” Allison smiled, “Let me get into my sweats so I can kick your ass. I'll show you some of the moves Renee has taught me.”
Neil shuddered at the thought. He'd seen Renee fight before at the gym and she was not one to fuck with. He knew she'd started teaching Allison some basic self defense after a stalker had broken into her house last year but he didn't dare find out what exactly she'd learned.
The three of them filed into Allison's dressing room and Neil took his usual spot on the couch while Allison stepped behind the divider and began to peel off her performance outfit. Renee disappeared behind it a few seconds later to help hold her steady while she took off the obnoxious boots.
“I swear to god I'm firing Brian from the next tour.” Allison groaned, referencing Brian her dance captain.
“What now?” Renee laughed.
“He's been grabbing my ass for too long after he pulls me out of the split!” Allison exasperated, “It's been like that since Vegas!”
“You mean the same Vegas where you sat on his lap and made out with him for an hour?” Neil laughed as he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone reading tweets and reactions to the show that just ended.
“Oh my god!” Allison gasped as she stuck her head around the divider, “I literally did not make that connection.”
“You did make out with a lot of people that night, Allie.” Renee laughed as she stepped around the divider holding two pairs of boots that were almost as tall as she was.
“So did you!” Allison laughed as she lobbed a bra over the divider at her, “Glass houses, Renee!”
“True.” Renee giggled, “Neil is the only person in the room who hasn't had his lips on someone who worked on the tour.”
“Excuse me!” Neil choked, “How do you know that?”
It was true but still.
“Sweetie.” Allison cooed as she stepped from behind the divider now dressed in a loose fitting jumpsuit.
She didn't have to say anymore. They all knew that Neil was not the touchy feely type and Allison at least knew that Neil had never made it past first base with anyone.
“Now I'm really not coming to your party.” Neil rolled his eyes and stuffed his phone into his pocket.
“I hate you.” Allison frowned and dropped to the couch next to him, sighing and dropping her head onto his lap.
“I know.” Neil sighed.
“What are your plans them?” Renee asked as she fell into the long chair opposite them.
“Go back to my place, shower, and then go find somewhere where I wont hear another one of these fucking songs for at least an hour or two.”
“You know, I'd be really fucking offended at you for shit talking all my songs if you hadn't wrote most of them.” Allison rolled her eyes.
“Do you hate all your work this much, Neil?” Renee asked.
“I don't hate any of it.” Neil sighed, “I've written some great stuff for Allison and we've written some killer shit together but this last album was just...”
“Fucking mind numbing.” Allison picked up his sentence.
It was nice to hear her echo his sentiments.
“Well, at least you don't have to perform any of it until the VMA's in a few months.” Renee offered.
“Thank fucking god,” Allison laughed, “If I hear Ain't My Fault one more time it's going to be my fault that I killed myself.”
Neil raised his eyebrow at the oddly worded sentence but otherwise said nothing.
“Don't turn on the radio then, it's still number one.” Renee sighed.
“Some people have the worst fucking taste.” Allison groaned.
“Yeah,” Neil shook his head, “Who writes that shit?”
Allison laughed and swatted at his face before pushing herself off his lap and walking over to sit in her makeup chair. “I'm going straight to the party from here. Renee, can you find Tao and send him in here to salvage what's left of my face before I go outside?”
“You got it, boss.” Renee smiled before turning to Neil and giving him a short wave goodbye and pushing herself out of the room.
“Where are you really going?” Allison asked after the room cleared.
Neil shifted uncomfortably under her icy stare. Allison had a way of seeing right through him and into his soul.
“I just need a break, Al.” Neil frowned, “Matt is trying to talk me into going to The Fox Hole and I'm thinking of actually going.”
“The Fox Hole?” Allison gasped, “You haven't been there in years.”
“It's Friday.” Neil shrugged.
“Open mic night. Nate, you little bastard!” Allison jumped out of the seat and rushed towards him with a smile on her face.
“I'm not singing any of my stuff.” Neil clarified, “I just want to go and hear what's out there past all the rhyming and innuendos of pop music.”
“I'm sorry.” Allison frowned, “I know this album and tour was a pain in the ass.”
“Shut up.” Neil rolled his eyes, “It's the label forcing all this dumb shit down your throat.”
“You'd think they'd show a little wiggle room for the bitch who's made them like a billion dollars.” Allison groaned.
It was true, after a new label head was brought in they lightly suggested that Neil try to write more radio friendly, happy summer songs. Allison seemed content with it at the time so he went along with it. It wasn't until they were trying to finalize the track list and they found that the studio pushed back on any song that didn't involve partying, sex, or partying and sex, that the reality set in. They would be touring around the world playing some of their least favorite material.
“If they pull this shit again them I'm leaving.” Allison huffed.
“Allison, you're under contract for three more albums.” Neil smiled.
Allison stood up from the cough with a grunt. “I don't give a fuck! I'll buy myself out.”
“Diva moment.”
“Shut up.”
Neil let out a pensive sigh. “It worked out. I needed a break from heavy shit anyway.”
Allison's eyes caught him in the mirror and she offered a sad smile. “You know I feel guilty every night, right? I'm still not sure if I broke you even more by letting you come out with me so soon after...”
“I was already broken, Al.” Neil frowned, “Playing these dumb fucking songs across the world grounded me.”
“Even if you hate them?”
“I don't hate them.”
Allison rolled her eyes and picked her phone up from the counter. “You sang the line.”
Neil smiled and fell back deeper into the couch. “I had to make it up to you since I wasn't coming to the party.”
“Where the fuck is Tao?” Allison sighed before turning to him, “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Neil got up from the couch and walked over to her to place a small kiss on her forehead just as her make up artist walked into the room.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Tao huffed, “I was on the phone with Mariah's people. She's trying to stiff me!”
“Ugh, divas!” Allison laughed, “Hey Nate?”
“Yes?” Neil hummed as he stepped out the door.
“Pick a good one.”
“A good what?”
“A good one of your songs for when you sing later.”
“I'm not singing, Allison.”
“Wanna make a bet?”
*
Neil pushed his way into his apartment almost an hour after leaving the stadium. What would normally have been a ten minute cab ride turned into an hour long wait as thousands of people extricated themselves from the facility. When he'd finally had enough he tossed the cab driver $40 out of pity and walked home instead. It wasn't the most leisurely of walks since he was toting his duffel bag and guitar case but it did give him time to think. By the time he was in the elevator he'd sent Matt and text telling him to meet at The Fox Hole in an hour.
He took in the sight of his dark apartment, it had been almost a month since he'd been back and he couldn't say he missed the place. It wasn't home. He didn't long for it when he was on the road, he didn't feel sad when he left for months at a time, it was just a place to sleep and not freeze to death. He'd never had a home, really. Sure, he grew up somewhere as a child for the first ten years of his life but that place wasn't a home. It was a factory that was specifically designed to destroy him, to rip every bit of free will out of his soul and replace it with “gods love”. He shuddered at the memories. The hot iron that pressed against his skin. The sharp rosary beads that bound his hands to the headboard and bit into his wrists leaving them bloody and raw. The red hot cross that his mother had pressed into his skin after she heated it up over the open flame in front of him. The various slashes and cuts that the good people of his mothers church had left him with after their umpteenth time trying to “cut the demon out of him”. The sound his father made the night they found him in that hotel room a week after he'd saved Neil from the basement.
A stinging sensation in his eye drew him back to earth and he lifted a trembling had to his cheek to find out that he was crying. Fuck, he hated crying. The tears came every time he let himself fall back down the black hole of memories. He shook his head and ran the back of his hand over his face to wipe them away and began to think happier thoughts.
He supposed the closest thing to an actual home he had was Allison's parents mansion but even that place held dark memories. There was nowhere he laid his head that didn't scare or hurt him at one point or another except the tour buses. The buses had always been safe. The buses had wheels and they moved from place to place almost ever single night. It was the perfect thing, really. He could run every single day but still be in the same place.
Neil let out a sigh and fell to the couch, kicking his shoes off and stretching out his legs. He still had time before he needed to meet Matt at the bar and he knew the only way he'd spend it was by being depressing. His eyes scanned the room until they settled on a bookcase against the wall with dozens of notebooks piled into it before zeroing in on one in particular. It was fatter than the others with sticky notes popping out of every direction, the spine was worn almost to its threads from repeated openings and being bent backwards for years. Begrudgingly, he pulled himself up from the couch and walked towards it.
Neil thumbed through the pages, his eyes taking stock of every sticky note that stuck out, until he reached the page he wanted. The words still seemed fresh on the page even though the song was written years ago on a night that he was too fucked up to even make any sense of them. He shook his head as he scanned over the lyrics, savoring every written word. Some of the lines held truth to them and were drawn from his life while others were just there because they sounded pretty. It was the way he wrote his most personal songs, it made him feel safe mixing in lies and red herrings about a girl he might have loved once if the ability to love wasn't burned, cut, ripped out of him. Truths mixed with delicate and fragile lies. He wrote the same way he lived his life.
*
Standing outside of The Fox Hole was more intimidating than Neil would ever admit to anyone. The building still looked the same and he could remember the first day he ever stepped foot into it. Now though? Now he couldn't remember the last time he was inside.
It had to have been at least two years since he or Alison had returned. The two of them had made attempting to start that stupid open mic night a labor of love. They spent hours, days, weeks, months, trying to spread the word, trying to get people from all over the city to come and play their songs and share their stories. For at least the first month he and Allison sat alone in the bar singing to an almost completely empty room with only the occasional applause from the owner who only put up with them because he knew they had nothing better to do.
Wymack was a better man than he should have been to them. When two twenty year old kids show up on the first day you open begging to sing in the big open area that would be perfect for a stage you're supposed to turn them away. You're supposed to tell them to get the fuck out and come back when you're old enough to buy a drink. But not Wymack. “As long as you wear something orange you can sing wherever you want.”
And so every week they showed up in a different shade of orange and sang to the empty bar until people just had to see it to believe it. As the word spread, more and more people showed up with something orange on just for a chance to sing. Eventually they did build a stage there and eventually they painted it that god awful shade of orange. And eventually talent scouts from record companies started showing up and watching and listening to potential new talent. And eventually Allison was signed because she was a pretty blonde girl with a good voice and an even better body and eventually she dragged Neil along with her, got him a publishing contract, and helped make him one of the biggest song writers on the radio.
And now he stood outside of the house he helped build wearing a horrible orange flannel shirt and feeling like an outsider. No. It wasn't a house.
“You gonna stand there all night or are you going to go inside?” A voice laughed from behind him.
Neil rolled his eyes at the unmistakable sound of Matt Boyd's voice and turned to face the impossibly tall man.
“Just waiting for my bodyguard.” Neil shrugged, “I don't know what reaction I'm going to get when I go in there.”
Matt leaned a long arm out against the build and braced himself against the wall. “I about died when you texted me saying you actually wanted to go. How long has it been?”
Neil blew a breath upward to rustle some of the hair out of his face, “Two years, I think? Fuck. Allison and I try our hardest to build this place up then we make it big and we abandon it.”
He could feel Matt's intense glare on it. “You think too highly of yourself, Neil. This place is doing just fine without either of you.”
“You know me,” Neil sighed, “always the guilt conscious. How's Dan?”
“Smooth subject change, Josten.” Matt rolled his eyes, “She's in the studio right now laying down the final vocals for the new single.”
Neil narrowed his eyes before he spoke again. “She's in the studio by herself? Why aren't you there? Aren't you producing it?”
“Of course. But she told me I was suffocating her and she needed a few hours to let her voice breathe without worrying about how it would sound against the track.” Matt shrugged.
Matt and Dan were two of the first friends he and Allison made in the city. They were the first two people to actually show up to participate in open mic night besides them. Dan always had a flare for dramatics and R&B music and Matt was a pro on the keyboard and in their homemade studio. No one knew what to expect when they got up to sing but the few people who were in the bar when Dan opened her mouth were stunned into silence. He'd never tell Allison but Dan had one of the best voices he'd every heard. Every word out of her mouth spoke a thousand more and she could convey more emotion in a single vocal run than he could in any of his songs. She and Matt were eventually signed to the same label as him and Allison with Dan as talent and Matt as a producer. He could still remember crying the day she chose one of the songs he wrote for her as the lead single of her first album.
Unlike him and Allison, Dan and Matt went back to The Fox Hole every couple of months just to fuck around, maybe play some new music, or maybe just to drink. It was why he felt safe enough to come back to his old safe haven with Matt.
“Before we go in I should probably tell you something...” Matt trailed off.
“Save it.” Neil huffed as he opened the door, “If I don't do it now then I'll never do it.”
He didn't wait around to hear what Matt had to say as he stepped into the bar. The place was absolutely bustling with life. It was equal parts familiar and alien all at the same time. The stage was still there and it was still garishly orange but now there was a set up for a full band and backup singers. There were monitors on every wall showing everything from sports to pop culture shows. The bar had been completely redone, all the chairs and tables had been replaced, and the second level was finally finished.
“Fuck.” Neil sighed.
“Different than you remember it?” Matt asked, hovering a hand over Neil's shoulder.
“The pictures are still on the walls.” Neil said softly as he walked towards the bar and let his eyes dance over the pictures that hung everywhere. Black and white photos lined every inch of that back wall. He could already make out himself, Allison, Dan, Matt, and Wymack in them from the other side of the room but as he got closer more and more faces began to pop up, faces he didn't know or trust.
He was only vaguely aware of the guy standing on the stage and strumming along to a country song he'd heard written the same exact way a million different times as he sat down at the bar.
“What can I get you?” A soft and familiar voice asked.
Neil turned with a smile on his face and offered his most seductive voice, which was terrible, “Do your worst, Roland.”
He couldn't suppress his smile and it grew even larger as he saw Roland's eyes widen. “Am I dreaming?”
“More like a nightmare.” Matt laughed as he dropped into the seat next to Neil.
“Neil Josten, as I live and breathe.” Roland laughed, leaning himself against the bar with a goofy grin on his face.
“I missed you to.” Neil shook his head.
“You don't call, you don't write.” Roland narrowed his eyes at Neil.
“I text! Sometimes.” Neil huffed, holding his hands up in mock defense, “And I dedicate a song to you in the liner notes on Allison's last album!”
“I know.” Roland rolled his eyes, “Barback. I have it framed.”
“You didn't come to the show tonight.” Neil said, slightly accusatory.
“Couldn't get off. Boss is a real hard ass.” Roland laughed, “Where is the princess of pop herself?”
“After party I didn't feel like going to.”
“So you came here instead? I think my heart just grew a few sizes.”
“Your heart is big enough.” Matt rolled his eyes.
The singer on the stage finished and Roland turned his head towards the general direction. “Excuse me while I go get the next one started.”
Neil nodded and Matt waved him away. He watched as Roland climbed the steps and called out the name of the next performer, giving a small rundown on their accolades or whatever they hoped to accomplish in life. It was sweet and it wasn't how things were done the last time he was here.
“What do you want?” A rough voice drew his attention back to the bar.
“Huh?” Neil hummed.
“You're sitting at the bar and you don't have a drink so I assume you want something.” The voice said.
Neil let his eyes fall nearly a foot from where Roland's head had been before it settled on a tuft of blonde hair and piercing hazel eyes. If Neil wasn't so rational he'd have thought he lost his breath for just a second when their eyes met but that couldn't possibly happen. He wasn't allowed that.
“Andrew. Neil. Neil. Andrew.” Matt groaned.
“Andrew?” Neil questioned, the name coming out of his mouth before his brain could stop it.
“Yes. What do you want from my bar. Do you need someone to translate for you or something?” Andrew said.
Neil still couldn't figure out how to form a proper sentence. “Your bar?”
Andrew let out a sound that was more animal than human. “What the fuck is up with your date, Matt. Dan finally wise up and leave your freakishly tall ass?”
“You're one to talk, hobbit.” Matt rolled his eyes, “This is Neil Josten.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Andrew shrugged.
“You...don't know who I am?” Neil said somewhere between a sigh and a gasp and already began kicking himself before he finished talking. Allison would be proud.
“No, princess. Should I?” Andrew growled again.
“Oh god.” Matt groaned and began to flag down Roland for backup.
“You're literally standing in front of a picture of my face.” Neil deadpanned.
Andrew gave a quick glance from the phone behind him to Neil and then back again. “Don't see it.”
“Who the fuck trained you?” Neil laughed, “Certainly not Roland or Wymack.”
“Wymack isn't here.” Andrew shrugged.
“So your boss is off for the night and you just treat people like shit?” Neil shook his head.
“You're the one who came into my bar acting like a diva and taking up valuable space by not ordering anything.” Andrew said, his face flat and expressionless.
“Give me a whiskey, Andrew.” Matt shook his head.
Neil snapped his head towards Matt and let his jaw fall open. “Who the fuck is this, Matt?”
“This is what I was trying to tell you before you ran into the place.” Matt gestured towards Andrew, “Andrew runs The Fox Hole now, has for a year and a half.”
“What?” Neil shouted, “Where's Wymack? Oh my god, is he OK?”
“Yes.” Matt laughed, “He and Abby finally got their heads out of their asses and gottogether. They moved back to Florida so she could take care of her mom. One day we showed up and Wymack had Short Stop here and introduced him to everyone as the new day to day manager and then he was gone the next day.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?” Neil groaned.
“I told Allison, she didn't tell you?”
“No!” Neil gasped, “And I'm going to kill her.”
“Andrew!” Roland laughed, “I see you finally met Neil.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that like I should know who this freak is?” Andrew deadpanned.
Freak. Fuck that word still burned.
“Well, this was nice.” Neil nodded, pushing himself away from the bar, “Good to see you, Roland.”
“Neil!” Roland called after him, “Don't go.”
“Too long has passed, Roland. Clearly I'm not welcome here.” Neil frowned.
“Stop being a drama queen and just order a fucking drink, Neil.” Andrew growled.
“Fine.” Neil huffed and sat back down, he wasn't going to let this Andrew come out on top, “Give me a water.”
“No.” Andrew said, still emotionless.
“Excuse me?”
“No. People don't sit at a bar to order water.”
“This person does.”
“Of course you do.” Andrew sighed and pulled a glass from above him before turning his back to Neil and filling it with tap water. “Enjoy.”
“Neil is half the reason we have open mic night, Andrew.” Roland sighed and lowed himself down to the shorter mans gaze like he'd done this a million times before.
“Oh.” Andrew said, “You're the one that got famous and left. Wrote a bunch of shitty pop songs.”
Neil shot his hand out to clasp the glass with an iron grip before raising a shaky hand to his lips and swallowing. He closed his eyes to pretend he was drinking something else in a pathetic attempt to steady himself before he spoke again. “Yes.”
“Hm.” Andrew hummed.
Neil let out a long sigh before noticing Roland had disappeared again before he registered his voice from the stage.
“Let's have a brief interruption while we give a warm welcome to some Fox Hole royalty who decided to rejoin us tonight. Everyone put your hands together for the legendary Neil Josten. I don't need to tell you who he is, his pictures are all over this place and odds are if a song has gotten stuck in your head in the last five years then he's the one who wrote it.”
“You knew he was going to do this.” Neil turned his fiery eyes towards Matt.
"I have a bet with Allison." Matt admitted.
“I'm wondering if we could possibly convince him to get up here and play us a little something.” Roland winked.
“No!” Neil shouted from across the room as all the heads turned.
“Aw, don't be such a spoil sport, Neil.” Roland cooed.
He was really not in the mood for this tonight.
“I don't have my guitar and I don't know what I would sing!” Neil shook his head and waved his arms in defeat.
“There are plenty of guitars up here, Neil.” Roland said, his voice coming out as smooth as honey.
“Worried you'll forget your alternating verses of ooooh's and aaaah's?” Andrew narrowed his eyes, “Can't be that hard, Fox King.”
Andrew did not just fucking call him Fox King. That little fucker did know who he was.
“Just do it, Neil.” Matt laughed, “You know Roland won't lay off and I'm not nearly ready to leave yet.”
“Neil! Neil! Neil!” Roland led the chant that carried through the entire bar to the point where the only people who weren't chanting were himself and Andrew. He looked over and caught the faintest of smile's from Andrew before his face went back to blank and dead.
“Fuck. Fine. I'll do Hideaway or something.” Neil groaned.
“Oh joy.” Andrew deadpanned, “I fucking hate that song.”
Neil cast one last hateful glance at Andrew before willing himself towards the stage. He felt like all his limbs were covered in concrete as he took the steps one by one until he was standing next to Roland who quickly vacated the mic to him.
“Hi.” Neil said sheepishly into the mic, “It's nice to be back. Allison says hi.”
The crowed erupted into applause at the mention of her name as he picked up an electric guitar and gently strummed it to make sure it was playable. It felt foreign in his hand, he wasn't used to playing with one that wasn't his. He looked back to the bar and saw that Andrew had already turned his back to him and wasn't paying any attention.
Something inside of him snapped. Fuck Andrew. He was going to make sure that short bastard paid attention to him.
Neil sucked in a breath just to give himself another chance to back out of what he was about to do. His mind flashed to the book in his apartment again and the words he'd just gone over a little more than an hour ago. He didn't know why but for some reason he was willing to cut himself open on this stage tonight, just so Andrew would fucking pay attention to him.
“I was going to do one of my favorite songs I've written for Allison but it came to my attention that a certain person behind the bar doesn't like it,” Neil paused to check for a reaction from Andrew and found he still had his back towards him, “So in light of that and as a...celebration of my being back here after so long I'm going to do a new song. One I wrote a few years ago that only one person has ever heard me sing. This is called Cruel World.”
He let his eyes drift back to the bar for just one second and saw that Andrew had pivoted slightly and was watching out of one eye.
He closed his eyes and took one last breath before strumming over the cold strings and sending a loud vibration through the room, he'd only ever played this song out loud once for Allison so he didn't even know if he'd be able to do it but he had to try.
Time to self destruct, Josten.
Share my body and my mind with you,
That's all over now.
Did what I had to do,
'Cause it's so far past me now.
Share my body and my life with you,
That's way over now.
There's not more I can do,
You're so famous now.
He sang the first two verses with his eyes closed, unwilling to look out at the crowd as he began the simplest part of the song. It was only going to get worse from here.
Got your bible, got your gun,
And you like to party and have fun.
And I like my candy and your women,
I'm finally happy now that you're gone.
He felt himself choke over the words but forced himself to keep going. He was a fucking junkie all over again. He could feel the high coming back and it was all worth it.
Put your little red party dress on,
Everybody knows that I'm the best, I'm crazy.
Get a little bit of bourbon in ya,
Get a little bit suburban and go crazy.
Because you're young, you're wild, you're free,
You're dancin' circles around me,
You're fuckin' crazy.
Oh, oh, you're crazy for me.
He sensed the tears before he actually felt them. He knew they were going to come because they always came when he thought about the people this song was about: His father, his mother, the ones in between.
He made his eyes find Andrew in the crowd. He was sickly satisfied when he saw that Andrew had left his place from behind the bar and was standing behind the crowd, watching Neil rip himself open, with his jaw slightly slack. He locked his eyes to Andrew and refused to look away.
Got your bible and your gun,
You like your women and you like fun.
I like my candy and your heroin,
And I'm so happy, so happy now you're gone.
Neil ended the song at that last line with the satisfaction of knowing it could have gone on for several more minutes, He'd had enough. He made his point. The room was silent for a moment before it burst into applause but he couldn't take any of it in. He felt like he was going to pass out. Fuck, this was such a bad idea. He needed to talk to Allison. He sat the guitar back on the stand and lowered himself from the stage to make his break for the street outside, pausing briefly in front of the still silent and shocked Andrew.
“Happy?”