in two years, so why start now? Did they know he played the drums in a famous band? Before thousands of fans? Would that embarrass them? Disgust them? Bore them? He knew they could not be proud or interested or happy for him. He called the old bar where he used to work and they were thrilled to have him back, as well as eager to hear all about his connection to and experiences with Zenith.
Ross showed up on time, wearing his usual black jeans and white t-shirt, ready to slug drinks to thirsty workers. It wasn’t an upscale place. Most of the customers were down on their luck or out every night to get drunk and hook up. It wasn’t classy or urban and it lacked the pretty people of Seattle. At least, these were his people. He should have remembered that and stayed put. His people didn’t dare to dream of becoming real rock stars. Or playing a musical instrument, even something as cool as a drum set for money. Nah. You worked your menial job and coped with adversity.
He took some flak about it and catcalls. His stint with Zenith provided hours of amusement for the regulars. He answered their endless questions and let the latest bit of infamy increase his tips. Why not? He wouldn’t have the Zenith money forever. Might as well capitalize on it as long as he could. He didn’t feel like practicing the drums anymore. Occasionally, he played with the small house band that was awful, the total antithesis of his last venue. It contrasted as much as a rotten, black, cavity-filled tooth stands out beside a healthy white, whole one. Both were teeth, one was just rotten and rancid while the other was an example of porcelain perfection, as it was supposed to be.
Ross passed the time but it was grueling.
Women flirted with him. Hard. But as for his interest? They had no sharp-witted things to say and they put up with all of his shit. Why? Why didn’t they put him in his place? Why weren’t they smarter than that? Quicker? More interesting? More confident? More awesome? Why were all of them so dull and passive?
After a few days, a letter caught up with him. Forwarded from his last address, he wished it came from Zenith and his former friends. His stomach twisted. Didn’t he sever all of his ties pretty epically? The old information was incorrect now. He had no permanent address. No phone number. But the stupid letter found him all the same. His was a small town and the postman knew him and his presence was now widely known because of the short time he spent with Zenith. Ross literally had fifteen minutes of fame but it was all over now.
Done. Buried. Over.
But back to the letter. Who was it from? He flopped down and was about to discard it when the return address caught his attention.
Oh, yeah. The damn lab results of his physical. Ugh.
They promised a fast turnaround. He slit the envelope and opened it. They apologized for the letter, but explained they were unable to reach him. He scanned it, feeling dull and annoyed before he wadded it up into a ball when it all just stopped.
He stared at the letter in a haze. Dizziness made his brain swirl. His breathing grew heavy. Hard. Impossible. No. Fuck no. What? What should he do with this news?
It didn’t compute. No. Not him. Not him.
There were many calls from people to check on Jody, and see how she was. How was she dealing with everything? Her mother called often. Karlee, even more often. Her dad even called her. JayJay was bummed and kept asking her questions she could not answer. Where was Ross? Why wasn’t Ross calling him back? Where did he go? Huh? Jodee, where was he?
She didn’t fucking know where. Not a damn thing about him. Not anymore. How could he toss aside people so callously? Even when she first met him, he didn’t seem that awful or so heartless. She’d been wrong before but never so catastrophically wrong. It horrified her. When was she ever so weak-hearted?
How could she be with someone who would leave town without a word? Not a word. Or a forwarding address. Or a number. He told the rental company where the car was parked at the airport. She had that information at least. After all this, did Ross simply go home?
What the freaking sense did that make? Why