Sickness in Seattle

By the end of the tour, Skye and Ariel eventually got on the same page. Skye spent a significant amount of time with me and the band, but she started hanging out with Ariel backstage during our sets. I didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, but the intensity from Chicago didn’t surface again for the rest of the tour.

It was obvious that they weren’t necessarily friends, but they were professional, polite, and able to have a laugh between the two of them in the presence of others.

The night after wrapping up in Seattle, the record labels threw us all an afterparty, celebrating ten weeks and thirty-eight sold out stadium shows.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t expecting Stan to be there, but he texted me every day for a week ahead of it: telling me how proud he was, and how excited he was to see me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Stan, it was that I no longer felt like the kid who recorded Signed in Blood, and I wasn’t sure he’d recognize, or accept, the version of me I’d become.

***

Seven o’clock in Seattle, and the function hall was beautiful. Emerald decorum adorned banners with Ariel’s face and name on them, a celebration of her most successful tour to date.

It felt like we were early, despite arriving precisely on time. The only people in the room before Skye and me were Stan and Ian.

Stan quickly approached us, wrapping us into a bear hug.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you both,” he said, filling the empty room. “It’s fantastic to see you looking like yourself at the end of the tour, Wes.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “Guess all it takes to stay alive is touring with someone more professional than me.”

Ian smiled nervously, “So, I guess that means all of the old EoT tour stories were true?”

“Unfortunately for me, all of that happened…which is why I was so distant at the start.”

“No, that’s fine. I tried not to take it personally, but it makes a lot more sense with context,” he paused. “Of course, we all have our demons.”

Stan laughed, “Isn’t that the truth? I know he calmed down once Skye joined the tour.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I needed someone to keep me on edge.”

She fidgeted with her skirt for a second, “I’m just glad we made it through alright.”

I appreciated the sentiment of alright, but if anyone saw the fresh cuts laced across both our bodies, they’d know ‘alright’ was a lie we told ourselves.

The room became noisy as Ariel and her entourage finally arrived. The other acts from the tour were with her, as if the entire entrance was planned.

She approached us and immediately shook hands with Stan.

“Mr. McSorley, it was a pleasure touring with Wes. Thank you for supporting this tour.”

Stan’s expression was neutral, “I’m glad this worked out for both sides…I was worried for a minute about how well this was going to go.”

“There were some interesting moments behind the scenes, but overall it was a smooth experience,” she said, though her glance lingered on Skye for half a second too long, curiosity edging past her discomfort. “I look forward to working with Wes and Skye again in the future.”

“That’s great to hear,” he laughed.

Ariel quickly moved to her next conversation in the room. Ian split off when Max and Sean entered, leaving the three of us alone in the corner of the room.

A few minutes passed where nothing was said between us.

“Wes, I’m proud of what you accomplished,” Stan’s voice was still calm. “Your merch sales were more than we expected, so you’ll probably be doing arena runs as a headliner next spring, summer, and fall…stopping to work on new music for yourself as well as other R&R artists in between.”

“That’s good, I guess,” I replied, hiding my fear.

My stomach twisted. Stan wasn’t congratulating me, he was drafting the next decade of my life without asking if I wanted it.

This had always been my dream. To live off music, to play every night, but it already felt hollow, like I’d achieved it for someone else.

“Skye, I’ve already sent you your schedule for the next nine months. You’ll be connecting with Wes on the road for weeks at a time during these tours, but you’re in high demand.”

“Thank you,” she responded. She had stopped fidgeting with her dress. Her eyes darted to me periodically, inspecting if I was okay, but she wasn’t worried enough to ask.

“After the tour next fall, you’ll record your second album for a 2016 release. We’ll give you a better royalty split. I can’t risk you testing the waters.”

“That all sounds fine,” I said. “I trust that you’re putting me in the best position for all of us to succeed.”

I was being honest and ignorant. I knew that I could probably get a better deal elsewhere. I could even negotiate for more creative and scheduling control, but I trusted the devil I knew. Stan was a lot of things, most of them negative, but he never lied to me or steered me wrong.

He smiled that same devilish smile.

“Down the line, maybe there’s even a biopic in it, your pain packaged for the big screen. That’s what makes this special, Wes. That’s what sells.”

I couldn’t tell why he was still trying to tempt me. I’d already agreed to follow him to Hell if he asked.

“I’m glad you put so much time and effort into our futures,” Skye interjected. “I’ll do my best to keep an eye on Wes’s health…we both know how tough this life can be.”

She said it lightly, but her thumb pressed into the back of my hand, hard enough to sting, reminding me that her “care” always cut both ways.

Stan’s expression turned neutral, “Our team can connect him with a touring counselor…but we’ll figure that out later.”

I was happy that people cared enough to be worried about me.

They cared more about my mental health than I did.

I knew I was spiraling, that I was never more unstable. I didn’t care how any of it shook out.

“Yeah, we’ll figure that out later,” I said, hoping he would move on.

“Well, I’ll see you guys in Nashville in a few weeks. I should network with the people on Ariel’s team while I’m here.”

We said our cordial farewells as he disappeared into a crowd of suits.

It was just us now, standing in the center of the room. Two eighteen year old kids from Massachusetts at a party for someone else, wishing that they were somewhere else.

We could’ve hung out with the guys in the band, or made small talk, but we chose to sit at a table in silence, holding hands and taking in the atmosphere.

***

As the clock struck eleven, the party was dying down. Despite our ambivalence toward the whole event, the only people left were us, Ariel, her manager, and a few stragglers from the opening act.

Ariel approached us alone.

“Skye, it’s been fun getting to know you over the past couple of months,” she was beaming.

“Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed your company too.”

“Wes, you’ve certainly kept things interesting for me…I’ll miss you on my next tour.”

I couldn’t tell if she was flirting, but Skye’s flat reaction told me she meant it.

“I’m grateful that I got the chance to work with a professional like you…thank you, Ariel,” I managed to say.

She blushed.

“So, after tonight, I won’t see you guys again until November…” she said, chewing her lip like she was debating something reckless, her confidence thinning at the edges, as if she’d just realized curiosity could be a dangerous impulse.

“What’s on your mind?” Skye probed.

“So, about what we were talking about in Chicago…Could you show me what you were talking about?”

My jaw dropped before my mind processed what I heard.

I started trembling. This was not a good idea.

Skye realized my apprehension.

My pulse hammered in my throat. I wanted to speak, to say no, but the words calcified before they left my tongue.

I couldn’t read her.

“Sure, we’ll show you,” Skye said in a flirting voice. “But there are rules.”

“Alright,” Ariel responded, fidgeting, as if she already regretted her decision.

“You can’t bring your phone into the hotel room. We can’t have any secret videos,” Skye paused. “Also, you’re not allowed to touch Wes.”

“I’ll meet you at your room in twenty minutes…I’m just going to wrap up here.”

We parted ways for the moment.

Skye tried to hold my hand on the walk back to our hotel room, but I wouldn’t let her. I was upset that she ignored my feelings about this.

“Wes, you never had an issue when Courtney watched, so why is this any different?”

I sighed. How could you even compare them? Despite how things ended, Courtney was my oldest friend…I trusted her with my life. Ariel Sanchez?

I didn’t understand.

***

By the time we made it to our hotel room, I felt myself folding inward; resentful, silent, already bracing for whatever Skye had agreed to drag me into next.

My knife sat on the nightstand, its familiar weight pulling at my eyes like gravity, daring me to reach for it.

I was shivering, a cold sweat pouring down my neck. My body felt impossibly heavy. I just wanted to go to bed.

Skye was in the bathroom getting ready.

My heartbeat was picking up. I could hear the blood moving through my veins.

I sat on the bed. Staring at the knife.

This was a mistake. I wasn’t in any state to do this.

Before I knew what was happening, Courtney was sitting in the corner of the room.

At least, until the blur sharpened. Courtney’s ghost dissolved, and it was Ariel sitting there, horrified, trapped in our delusions.

Skye loomed over me, the ribbon on her thong less than a foot from my eyes, yet I felt like I was watching from outside my own body, trapped in the corner with Ariel.

I saw my knife in her right hand.

She dragged it across her left wrist, the blood starting to flow almost instantly.

…

The switch in my brain had flipped.

I hated myself as we escalated like we always did.

My whole being was telling me no, but as soon I saw it, as soon as I smelled it, I acted on instinct. I was more animal than man.

Ariel was quieter than Courtney ever was. From the few conscious glimpses I got, she was more mortified than entertained by what she saw. Definitely not aroused.

She wasn’t sick like us.

After we finished, Ariel left.

I sat on the bathroom floor, sobbing, not just over what I’d become, but because Ariel’s horror confirmed what Courtney never did: this was reproachable.