Part Four
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
When Bob went home to Chicago in July for his mom’s birthday, Victoria took the opportunity to go back to New York for a couple of weeks. She stayed at her parents’ house, who were delighted to hear that she was ‘alright again’. What she actually told them was that she had a new boyfriend, but to them, this was all they could have asked for. They interrogated her on who he was, where he was from, what his parents did. They didn’t get the answers they wanted (he was from Chicago, not Long Island; he was a drummer, not an investment banker; his mom worked in a bakery, not a Country Club housewife) but just the fact that he seemed to be in a stable relationship with their daughter was enough. She was tempted to tell them about his Scandinavian death metal hoodies, but kind of enjoyed the peace.
She met up with friends from film school, who all seemed to be moving in, getting promoted, married or having babies. Lauren was the stable variable - she was working as a waitress and dating two guys, one whose name she wasn’t convinced of.
It came as no surprise when she saw Ryland coming out of a movie theatre at 2am. New York was a big place, it just happened that her favourite places were theirs too. He almost seemed taller than she remembered, and neater - hair no longer curling around his ears. For a moment she thought about putting her head down and crossing the street - but Ryland was already at her side, before she’d even finished zipping up her coat.
“Hey, how are you?” He looked kind of shy.
“I’m good.” She was such a liar. “You look good, are you ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m .... look, are you in New York for long?” She wondered how he knew she’d left.
“Erm, another week maybe?”
“Listen, let’s get a drink, catch up, ok?”
She hesitated for a moment. It really was kind of late and she’d been woken early by the cats scratching at her bedroom door. Plus she still had a long journey home.
“Please? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want, but ...” She realised he was acting the same way he did with girls he didn’t know, jittery, pleading.
They went to a diner across the street. Ryland ordered them chocolate milkshakes and cinnamon rolls, without even asking her. Whilst he gave their order, Victoria looked around at the other diners. At this time, anywhere else, you would expect hobos and drunks. But this was New York - just people like herself and Ryland, living the kind of 24 hour life you could only live in this part of the world.
“It’s good to see you, you know.”
“You too. I heard you’re doing voice work now?”
“Yeah, it’s just to keep me busy, you know, when I’m not on the beach.” She realised that this was the excuse she had been giving for the last six months, but she hadn’t been there the entire time she was in LA. “What are you up to?”
“You remember the first tour we were on?” She raised her eyebrow at him, noticing that he hadn’t answered her question.
“Yeah. I’m surprised I stayed.”
She had meant that she was surprised that living on a bus with four guys hadn’t sent her running home to Long Island ... Ryland’s mind was obviously on that last night. “This whole thing ... we were so tired, we needed a break from it all. But really, it’s Alex and Gabe. They were the ones who should have stayed.”
Victoria closed her eyes, trying not to remember them tearing into each other in that parking lot in the middle of the night. Thankfully the waitress came over with their order, so she could concentrate on stuffing herself with sugar.
***
The thing is, those milkshakes soon turned into vodka-shakes. When Victoria woke the next morning, dry-mouthed, with her t-shirt still on and tights only rolled half way down her legs, it took her a moment to remember what had happened. She looked down at her palm, where she could just make out Ryland’s childish scrawl: ‘8.30 pm 2nite!’
Oh God. It all started coming back to her in disjointed details, like pieces of a puzzle. She and Ryland had come up with the marvellous plan of orchestrating a meeting between them all. Looking back, it seemed ridiculous. Surely Alex, Nate and Gabe would ignore a text that came in a 4am? Especially some phoney story about her needing their signature for something.
They were meeting at a park beside a small club in Soho. It had happy memories - it was where they played one of their first shows. Afterwards they had run out and sat out on the swings, swigging from a bottle of wine. Even though it was in New York, no cars went past. When she got there, she knew that she had idealised it - the ground was littered with broken glass, there was graffiti on the roundabout, and the swing was hanging against a pole. She could hear the constant murmur of car engines.
Although convinced that no-one would show, Victoria put on an extra sweater under her coat, wrapped a big scarf around her, and told her parents she was having drinks with friends. Ryland and Nate were already there. Nate had sat down on a bench, staring at nothing. Ryland looked twitchy, nervous. It seemed wrong to interrupt the silence, so she sat down next to Nate. He didn’t look at her. When Alex arrived he was shocked, sure, asked them what was going on. But he made no attempt to leave, leaning against the wall and rubbing his hands to keep them warm.
It wasn’t long before Gabe walked up to them, late as usual, dressed in black, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He saw Alex and double-taked. He knew they had planned the whole thing. Victoria wondered what he had been expecting.
“Fuck! Man what are you playing at?” he turned his attention to Ryland.
“Dude, we all need to talk. Properly. Like grown ups. We’ve all had time away, to think and to....”
“Talk? We’ve had years to talk. We’ve done nothing but talk for the last three years.”
“Some of us more than others.” Alex spat.
“Listen Alex, I’ve apologised a thousand times, we’re beyond that now. This is about you and...”
“Beyond? You cheat with my fucking girlfriend, and we’re beyond that?”
“You know what, this is between you and me, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m done. I’m done with you.”
“Guys, guys. Listen, we know you have your own problems, but we all need to move forwards now.”
Gabe was unusually quiet. “We don’t need to move anywhere. Not together anyway.”
“What?”
“You can do what you want, but...I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“What the hell have we done?” Victoria asked, trying to remember again how a fight between those two had suddenly come to involve all of them.
“All this cloak and dagger stuff, about wanting to meet me here. This isn’t high school, you can’t just force us together and expect us to play nice! There’s bigger stuff at play here.” Gabe was calm and controlled. It was so out of the norm that it worried her.
“Yes, but come on, you two have been friends for years. Can’t you just get over it?” she asked.
“What just kiss and make up, and then go and make another record? You don’t get it, this isn’t just about me and him, it’s about all of us.”
“How is it about all of us?” said Nate, speaking for the first time.
“It’s about us not thinking what we’re doing, just churning out record after record, not taking a break, doing whatever shit the label ask us to ...”
“You used to love it. We all did.”
“Yeah we did, not any more.”
“What changed?” Victoria asked.
“We did! It’s not even about the music any more! It’s about him sleeping with whatever he can, and you buying designer shit and making friends with celebrities. You don’t care about this band any more. You never did. “
It was kind of like being hit in the face. For months it had been about Alex and Gabe, and over time it had shrunk to some kind of school yard spat. It seemed like Alex had gotten over it, but then Gabe just threw in something completely out of the blue. And so not fair.
“How dare you make this about me.”
“But it is!”
She looked at him, breathing heavily, his eyes dark. He needed to shave. This was the person she had written songs with, shared her feelings with as they turned them into songs. They had lived each other’s lives for the past three years.
“Fuck you.” She turned around, walked to the subway, and left.
***
When it came to Joe Trohman’s wedding in Chicago, she knew that she’d have to face them again. She was sat on the floor in the lounge of Bob’s house, putting her make-up on in the mirror - it was taking twice as long because Ursula kept approaching her New Best Friend, either with a toy she wanted to play with, a random object, like a hairbrush or newspaper, or just threw herself on top of her. She’d been kind of distracted lately, and Ursula was begging for some attention. She kept trying to brush her away, but Ursula wasn’t having any of it. “Quit it!” she found herself yelling. Ursula squealed and ran behind the couch, where she kept her collection of toys.
Victoria sighed - it wasn’t Ursula’s fault that she had stuff on her mind, or that she had to share her time with Gizmo and Bob now. She sat back on her heels and turned around to find him standing in the doorway. He was dressed in his suit, looking uncomfortable. Even in a brand new suit he looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. He just looked at her, silently, broodily. For a minute, Victoria thought he was going to yell at her.
“We need to leave in a minute.”
Victoria ran upstairs to threw on her dress - Bob came in and sat on the chair, watching as she ran around, picking up jewellery and a sweater, trying to balance on one leg to put on her heels, giving up and sitting on the edge of the bed to do up the bows.
“You know, we don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to talk to anyone. I can bring you home as soon as the service is over.” It really disturbed her when he tried to have deep and meaningful conversations with her, especially since they couldn’t get through a conversation about groceries without some sort of joke.
What she wanted to say was that he should stop being so stupid, and of course she didn’t want to not talk to anyone, she wasn’t a kid. But she couldn’t lie to him.
“Can we just stay until the service is over? I don’t really want to go, but ... “ she trailed off. He sat down on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her. Of course, Gizmo jumped up too, nearly knocking them off the bed.
“I know it’s going to be hard, you haven’t seen them for a long time. But that’s been a lot of cooling off time, a lot of thinking time. Everything’s different to what it was then.”
Victoria’s eyes grew hot and itchy, and she clenched her jaw, trying to hold the tears in. This wasn’t fair - she never cried in front of anyone, especially not Bob. She turned her face inwards, into his chest so he wouldn’t see her tears.
“Bob, I have seen them. When I went to New York. Ryland and I, we tried to get them to just talk, but Bob it was worse than ever, they’re still so angry ...” she dissolved in sobs. Bob’s arms tightened around her, and she was, again, so, so glad that he existed. He pulled her onto his lap and made shushing noises. She thought he was giving her time to let it out, but when she looked up, she realised he knew what to say, he just didn’t want say it.
“You know it’s over now, right?”
“But he’s still so angry, he just needs to see.”
“He’s seen. He’s not in it any more.” What did Bob know. They hadn’t even met.
“No but he does this. He’s over emotional about stuff and super dramatic. Whenever he got dumped he sits in his underpants for weeks writing soppy ballads.”
“It doesn’t sound like he was feeling emotional.” She aimed to thump his shoulder, but missed and hit the pillow. She tried hard not to laugh, so as not to ruin the serious moment. “Listen, I just think that ...” she looked up at him. He had his lip between his teeth, hesitating. “You need to accept that ... that it’s over. You’ve done the moving on and getting a new life part. This is the only thing holding you back.”
“This is not going to get me to move to Chicago.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s cold there.” Bob smiled, but it wasn’t completely there. She knew he was just hanging around in LA because she was there. He had no other reason to be there, and going out when he might run into his former bandmates was kind of hard on him, too. He was pretty much just waiting to go back home. She could tell he missed it - and that she was holding him back.
As it turns out, it was Ryland she saw first, while Bob was in the bathroom and she was waiting at the bar. She took a deep breath, thinking of some pleasantries to exchange. It wasn’t him that had called her a bitch, and she knew he wouldn’t - there was no point in hostilities. It was him who spoke first.
“Oh my god. Are you ok? I haven’t heard from you since we were in New York, and I thought about calling, but I thought you might be mad...” he was obviously worried that his partner in crime was no longer involved.
“I’m not mad, Ryland. I’m kinda disappointed. I just ... I actually thought things might have changed. But they haven’t. Alex has forgiven him, but Gabe ... his heart’s just not in it any more.”
“Perhaps they just need time. To think. It feels like they’ve had forever, but ..” he trailed off.
“We can’t let Gabe hold us back. We can’t wait around forever. We need to move on, get a life, you know?”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because Bob was right about something. Dammit, I’m not telling him he was right. Listen, I have to go okay?” She’d turned away before he’s even got to say goodbye. Bob was at the bar when she found him. He looked at her, with that wide eyed expression.
“So when are we moving?”
He smiled. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Because really, what was stopping her?
***
Even though it was summer, it was freaking cold in Chicago. She thought it was just her, but as she picked up Gizmo’s leash one morning, and Gizmo ran off, coming back in with his winter sweater in his little mouth, she realised that they’d both become acclimatised. Bob cleared out the spare room for her, and she set up her video equipment in there. She got a job doing some editing, so she could work from home while Bob did ... well, whatever he did. She disappeared all day to work and left him to it.
She’d never lived with a guy before, and it was nothing like she expected. Bob cleared up after himself, and her too. They would go to bed, and she’d wake up with him wrapped around her like an eel. They’d wake up, she’d let Gizmo out while having a crafty cigarette, and he’d feed Ursula and put the coffee on. Even though they’d been together a while now, living together was still a novelty, so sometimes she’d find herself laid across the kitchen table with Bob fucking her, or on top of the counter, thighs clasping him tightly and fingernails digging into his back.
She’d done good. Living with a good man, doing a good job. She had a feeling she’d be looking after a litter of dogs the way Bob kept talking about going to visit shelters. Back to normal. Good.
Of course, photos from the wedding were leaked. There was no official photographers, and Victoria had been looking for a nice photo of her dress (to send to her mom) when she found the one of her and Bob. They weren’t facing the camera, or even each other. They were both engaged in animated conversations with other people, but with their hands still clasped tightly together.
She scrolled down the page. 127 comments. Shit.
They were mostly along the lines of oh my god, what’s he doing with her / when the hell did that happen / what the hell happened to Katlyn. She knew she wasn’t a fangirl favourite, and was used to the bitchy comments. There was another comment though that caught her eye:
WhackParade87 wrote:
OMG he never held hands with Katlyn in public ... thought he wasn’t a PDA kinda guy...
The thing is, she had no idea what he was like in a relationship. She didn’t even know what Katlyn had looked like. A quick search brought up a couple of photos of her. Victoria vaguely recognised her from hanging around the studio when she first moved to LA. She had assumed she worked for the record label. Much less that she was Bob’s girlfriend. She started to get that wrench in her gut whenever she thought about Bob dating anyone but her. She put the laptop away and went to feed the pets.
***
From MTV.Com, September 12th, 2010
It was announced this morning that former Cobra Starship frontman, Gabe Saporta, has been dropped from his solo record deal. To twist the knife even deeper, he was recording on friend Pete Wentz’s album, Fueled by Ramen. When the Cobras split, Saporta agreed to fulfil their album contract with his solo material, with tracks written by Wentz and Gym Class Heros singer Travis McCoy. Whilst no official reasons for the drop have been announced, friends have suggested that nearly a year after he started writing, he still has not produced anything in the recording studio.
This follows after former keytarist in the group, Victoria Asher, was found to be working for the Disney studios, recording voice-overs for minor TV and movie roles. Could a Cobra Starship reunion be back on the horizon?
***
Victoria was stood outside in the yard, smoking. She finished one and immediately lit another without even thinking about it. It seemed a little unfair that Bob was inside, watching some fantasy car factory show whilst she was out here freezing her ass off. She was wearing about three sweaters, including Bob’s ninja turtle hoodie thrown over the top. Gizmo was sitting on her feet and whining, like a cat. It was at times like this that she seriously considered quitting. Bob had quit, as had most of his friends. Although she sometimes saw a look in his eye that gave away just how much he missed it.
She was the only one at Disney who did - all the voice artists took their art very seriously, always using lozenges and throat sprays and drinking hot water with lemon. At first she enjoyed their scornful looks as she came in with her Starbucks. Later she drank it in the car, puffing on one last cigarette before spraying her clothes with perfume and sucking on a breath mint.
After a while, Bob opened the door, sticking only his head out. He blew cold air into the night. “Are you coming back in, or am I going to find you out here tomorrow, with a small dog frozen to your feet?”
Victoria pulled her sweaters tighter around her. “Just let me finish this one?”
“You must have had about five by now, come on, put it out. My feet are getting cold, I need somebody to put them under.”
“Yeah, but...”
“Come on!”
He could shout loud when he wanted to, and even sound kind of threatening. Just not to her. She tried staring him down, but ended up laughing. There was a minute of comfortable silence, of them just staring at each other across the yard.
“You know Gabe’s been dropped from his record label.”
“I thought he was on Wentz’s? Ouch.”
“They said he still hadn’t recorded anything, after a year. It doesn’t surprise me, he was always writing stuff, but he couldn’t sit still long enough to record it. They said about me, too, about me working for Disney.”
“And?”
“That was it, they just said I was working for them. For minor TV and movie roles.”
“Oh I see, you wanted a bigger mention? For them to say you’re a big movie star now?”
“I did not.” He made it sound bad. “I don’t even work for them any more. No, they just made it seem like I’d given up or something, or that I’d failed ... they said it looked like a reunion might be on the cards, now that we’re all such failures.”
“Well, I thought you had given up?”
“What?” She was kind of surprised that given the amount of time she spent with Bob, and as well as she thought she had gotten to know him, he could say things that completely threw her.
“You’re telling me editing is what you want to do for the rest of your life?”
“Can we perhaps finish this conversation inside?” She could see Bob’s warm breath cooling in the air and she was out of cigarettes - plus this really seemed like the type of talk where she wanted to be able to storm out if she could. But Bob wasn’t moving.
“You’re telling me you really want to sit in a studio, with no windows, staring at a screen, with only a bag of cheetos for company.”
“Studios can have windows. Anyway, that not what editing is ... and why would I be eating cheetos?”
“I’m just saying, it’s not what you really want to do.”
“Whoa, hang on. You’re telling me that you haven’t just given up...what the hell do you spend your days doing, except walking Gizmo on doggie marathons?”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different? It’s exactly the same.” He opened the door wider so she could come in, rubbing her hands together. He sat back on the couch, as if the conversation was over and they could go back to the TV. Victoria stood at the door, clearly not done yet.
“Bob, I don’t even know why you left. It’s been six months, and you’ve not even told me. And I just let you, because whatever you wanted to do, I’d support you.”
“But my wrists...”
“Shut up about your fucking wrists. They’re an excuse.”
They just stood, staring at each other, breathing heavily. She could hardly believe she’d said it, and kind of wished she hadn’t. This could so, so easily turn into a massive argument. It was like it was hanging on the edge of a precipice, rocking and swaying, no one sure of what way it would fall.
“I love playing drums, I do. But ... I hate everything that goes with it. Interviews, and websites with all this stuff about me, and speculating about my personal life. When Dixie died, there was an article on People magazine, can you believe it? Of all the stuff that we did, and that happened to us ... I mean I nearly got an infection in my brain because I got burned on a video shoot, and they write an article because my dog died? It’s just fucked up. I could do it for a while ... but not any more. I was just a kid, I could live in a van, not any more.”
“I don’t mind that stuff. I don’t mind doing interviews, because it gets people interested in my band. And I like that people make websites about us, because it shows how creative and loyal our fans are.”
“But you’re not in a band any more.”
“But one day, I might be again. And I’ll have to go out on the road. I don’t want to go if you won’t come with me.”
“Yeah but what about when we have babies and stuff?”
Babies and stuff. Bob Bryar and babies. Her, Bob Bryar, and babies. Jesus.
“Listen, Blondie.”
“Ok, Brownie.”
“That doesn’t work!”
How could they go from a serious conversation about the future to something so stupid?
“Why did you break up with Katlyn?”
“What? That was nearly a year ago.” She just stared at him. “I didn’t love her. Anything else you wanna know?” He raised his eyebrow at her.
“No. I love you.”
“I love you too. And quit smoking.”
“Ok.”
***
August 16th, 2006
Summer in New York was just icky, no doubt about it. The subway was sweaty and dirty, and the streets smelled of trash. But something about this day was different. The sun seemed brighter, the air less muggy. The cab drivers were politer, the streets cleaner. She and Lauren had met up and had waffles for breakfast, and then shopping. They had been to the Pixie Market on the Upper East Side when Lauren had to leave for her shift at the diner. Victoria stayed a little longer - some days everything she picked up was full of holes and dirt, but today she’d found two dresses from the Sixties. No funky smells, no suspicious stains. She and Frank were going to play their first show that weekend. It had been a long time since she’d been on stage, but she felt ready. She was going to enjoy it.
She was coming out of Starbucks, trying to find a lighter in her satchel whilst balancing a latte when Alex Suarez elbowed her in the side. He was kind of clumsy as it was with his long gangly limbs, but throw in trying to text without his glasses...
“Fucking Jesus...” she cursed as she rescued the cup with some sort of miracle ninja move.
“Victoria?” She burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not you, it’s just that, god the last time I saw you, I was what, 17?”
“Yeah, I suppose it was.”
“Hey, how’s Ryan?”
“Ryan’s good, he’s finishing up school at Brown.”
She smiled to herself. Brown. Her mother would have been so proud. She might stop asking her when she was going to get her roots dyed. “So are you back in New York now?” Alex asked.
“Well, I moved back out here for film school, but I’m flying back to LA next week. See, me and my friend Frankie kind of have this side project going on, but we’re just going to head out for the summer, you know, play a couple of shows.” They had finally managed to get the equipment to make a video. A big step in her career, her first video. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to intern for much longer and start making some money.
“Yeah, what happened to Optimo?”
“Well, you know, we grew up, grew apart and stuff. No big deal.”
He turned to leave - “listen, it’s been great to catch up, but I gotta go to work.”
“You don’t still work in that bakery do you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m only doing the early shift. I’m in this new band you see. With the bassist from Midtown?”
She looked at him blankly. Who the hell were Midtown?
“You know, we’re looking for someone to play keytar with us ...”
“Keytar? What is it, an 80s revival thing?”
“Kinda, we’re just trying to do something a bit different, you know. You still play the piano right?”
“Yeah, but I’m flying to LA in two weeks - I’ve got a new internship to start.”
“I suppose. Let me know if you change your mind, ok?”
***
Time rolls on, love falls apart, and you’ve not spent a single day outside my heart.
When the phone call came, Bob was kneeling between her thighs, his head nodding slightly and having her arch her back and twist her fingers in the sheets. She had her fingers twisted into his hair as he slowly licked over her, pushing his thick fingers into her as far as they would go, gently curling them as she gasped under him. He used his arm to push her hips down into the bed. There was something weirdly hot about the fact that she was laid naked over the bed whilst he was still fully clothed.
She checked her voicemail later, while Bob was in the shower. There was something desperate in his voice that made her agree to meet him. “Please. I need to speak with you.” There was something about his over-formality that made a little something in her gut twist.
He was waiting for her at the bar. He’d put on weight - it didn’t look bad, he had always edged on too skinny before. It would have suited him, if his hair hadn’t needed a wash and he didn’t have dark circles around his eyes.
“Go on” she said, warily.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking. It’s about time the five of us went back in to the studio, finish up that album we started.” He looked up at her, like nothing had ever happened.
“No, Gabe.”
“We don’t have to finish that album. No, no that’s a good idea, yes, we’ll start a new one. You know, a fresh start, a fresh sound. Yeah. It’ll be amazing.”
“No, Gabe, you don’t understand. I don’t want to come back.”
“I’m sorry about what I said to you. In New York. It was cruel of me.”
“I know you didn’t mean it, but that’s not why.”
He just stared at her. “It was you. It was you and Ryland. You called us all up, under some stupid pretence ... this is what you wanted all along!”
“It was. Not any more.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I grew up, ok? I realised that we can’t go on this way forever. We’re not in college anymore.” She looked up at him, mournful. “We can’t keep having this same fight.”
***
When she got home later that night, she decided to have a bath, with the vague intention that the warm water and bubbles would help to clear her thoughts. Bob climbing in behind her didn’t really help. He’d been out at a gig, some friend of his who was looking for some help setting up. She smelled sweat and beer as he pulled off his hoodie and jeans, tossing them onto the floor before he climbed in, legs either side of hers, pulling her waist back towards him.
“How was it?” she asked, leaning her head back against his chest.
“Good. They want me to do some stuff for them next week too. What did you do?”
“I went to see, umm, Gabe.” She expected to him to flinch or something, but he kept his hands tight around her.
“Yeah?”
“He looks a mess. He really does. He was talking about us all getting back together. It’s like, it’s all the rest of us wanted for nearly a year, and he was so against it, and so angry. And now we’ve all moved on and started over, he wants us to start up again.”
“Why has he changed his mind?”
“Time, I guess.” She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing in to him.
“I love you, you know?”
“I know. I love you too.”
***
She couldn’t believe they were yelling. Damn kid, she tried to give him good news and he refuses to accept it, asking a million questions and tossing his phone around his hand.
“Yeah, but why?”
“I can’t stand to see you miserable.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you, you stupid fuck! I care about all of you. I don’t care about the stupid keytar, not really. Or even the music. I never did. It was you guys ... I’m so damn sappy. I sound like a daytime movie or something.”
“You’re a hot mess, Asher.”
“Shut up, doofus.”
***
From MTV.com, February 21st, 2011
Cobra Starship picked up their first Grammy award last night for their first single in over two years, ‘Good Girls Go Bad’. The group picked up the award for ‘Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals’ at last night’s ceremony. This follows the phenomenal success of their third album, ‘Hot Mess’, released after a two year hiatus.
Keytarist Victoria Asher, who recently married the band’s drum technician Bob Bryar, said to MTV News on the red carpet “it’s been a long two years for us. And it’s been the best two years we could have asked for. Because, without that time apart, we never would have realised what we had in the first place. Things change, and people change, and we fall apart. But there’s always something, or someone, holding us together.”
***
Victoria’s eyes ached from the flashing bulbs by the time she got back to her hotel room. Her dress was digging in under her ribs and the balls of her feet ached, red grooves on the side where the beautiful but painful shoes dug in. She started pulling everything off of her as soon as the door closed, kicking the shoes off and dress to the floor. Bob had fallen asleep with the TV on, but woke with a start when he heard the door open, watching her silently as she made her way over to the bed. When she was down to just her underwear she climbed on the bed next to him, he moved his arm around her, so she lay half on his chest, looking up at him. His hair was getting long again and she brushed it out of his sleepy eyes. She’d asked him to come with them, even though she knew he’d say no.
“How was it?”
“Good. Long. I wish you were there with us.”
“I know. I watched you on TV though. You all looked so happy.”
“Do you wish you could have gone with the guys?”
“They did just fine without me. Besides, I saw them at the wedding.”
Victoria just looked at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, and the freckles on his nose. At the small round scar on his cheek, and the scratch on his forehead where Splinter had jumped up and scratched him while he was throwing a stick for her.
When the band first broke up, she really thought her life was over. When Bob left his band, she thought his life might be over too. Everything had fallen apart and all of her dreams died. She never thought would end up married to Bob Bryar. But she was. It was like the biggest bonus ever, and she didn’t know what she did to deserve all of this. All she had to do was hold on.
Part Two
Part Three
When Bob went home to Chicago in July for his mom’s birthday, Victoria took the opportunity to go back to New York for a couple of weeks. She stayed at her parents’ house, who were delighted to hear that she was ‘alright again’. What she actually told them was that she had a new boyfriend, but to them, this was all they could have asked for. They interrogated her on who he was, where he was from, what his parents did. They didn’t get the answers they wanted (he was from Chicago, not Long Island; he was a drummer, not an investment banker; his mom worked in a bakery, not a Country Club housewife) but just the fact that he seemed to be in a stable relationship with their daughter was enough. She was tempted to tell them about his Scandinavian death metal hoodies, but kind of enjoyed the peace.
She met up with friends from film school, who all seemed to be moving in, getting promoted, married or having babies. Lauren was the stable variable - she was working as a waitress and dating two guys, one whose name she wasn’t convinced of.
It came as no surprise when she saw Ryland coming out of a movie theatre at 2am. New York was a big place, it just happened that her favourite places were theirs too. He almost seemed taller than she remembered, and neater - hair no longer curling around his ears. For a moment she thought about putting her head down and crossing the street - but Ryland was already at her side, before she’d even finished zipping up her coat.
“Hey, how are you?” He looked kind of shy.
“I’m good.” She was such a liar. “You look good, are you ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m .... look, are you in New York for long?” She wondered how he knew she’d left.
“Erm, another week maybe?”
“Listen, let’s get a drink, catch up, ok?”
She hesitated for a moment. It really was kind of late and she’d been woken early by the cats scratching at her bedroom door. Plus she still had a long journey home.
“Please? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want, but ...” She realised he was acting the same way he did with girls he didn’t know, jittery, pleading.
They went to a diner across the street. Ryland ordered them chocolate milkshakes and cinnamon rolls, without even asking her. Whilst he gave their order, Victoria looked around at the other diners. At this time, anywhere else, you would expect hobos and drunks. But this was New York - just people like herself and Ryland, living the kind of 24 hour life you could only live in this part of the world.
“It’s good to see you, you know.”
“You too. I heard you’re doing voice work now?”
“Yeah, it’s just to keep me busy, you know, when I’m not on the beach.” She realised that this was the excuse she had been giving for the last six months, but she hadn’t been there the entire time she was in LA. “What are you up to?”
“You remember the first tour we were on?” She raised her eyebrow at him, noticing that he hadn’t answered her question.
“Yeah. I’m surprised I stayed.”
She had meant that she was surprised that living on a bus with four guys hadn’t sent her running home to Long Island ... Ryland’s mind was obviously on that last night. “This whole thing ... we were so tired, we needed a break from it all. But really, it’s Alex and Gabe. They were the ones who should have stayed.”
Victoria closed her eyes, trying not to remember them tearing into each other in that parking lot in the middle of the night. Thankfully the waitress came over with their order, so she could concentrate on stuffing herself with sugar.
***
The thing is, those milkshakes soon turned into vodka-shakes. When Victoria woke the next morning, dry-mouthed, with her t-shirt still on and tights only rolled half way down her legs, it took her a moment to remember what had happened. She looked down at her palm, where she could just make out Ryland’s childish scrawl: ‘8.30 pm 2nite!’
Oh God. It all started coming back to her in disjointed details, like pieces of a puzzle. She and Ryland had come up with the marvellous plan of orchestrating a meeting between them all. Looking back, it seemed ridiculous. Surely Alex, Nate and Gabe would ignore a text that came in a 4am? Especially some phoney story about her needing their signature for something.
They were meeting at a park beside a small club in Soho. It had happy memories - it was where they played one of their first shows. Afterwards they had run out and sat out on the swings, swigging from a bottle of wine. Even though it was in New York, no cars went past. When she got there, she knew that she had idealised it - the ground was littered with broken glass, there was graffiti on the roundabout, and the swing was hanging against a pole. She could hear the constant murmur of car engines.
Although convinced that no-one would show, Victoria put on an extra sweater under her coat, wrapped a big scarf around her, and told her parents she was having drinks with friends. Ryland and Nate were already there. Nate had sat down on a bench, staring at nothing. Ryland looked twitchy, nervous. It seemed wrong to interrupt the silence, so she sat down next to Nate. He didn’t look at her. When Alex arrived he was shocked, sure, asked them what was going on. But he made no attempt to leave, leaning against the wall and rubbing his hands to keep them warm.
It wasn’t long before Gabe walked up to them, late as usual, dressed in black, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He saw Alex and double-taked. He knew they had planned the whole thing. Victoria wondered what he had been expecting.
“Fuck! Man what are you playing at?” he turned his attention to Ryland.
“Dude, we all need to talk. Properly. Like grown ups. We’ve all had time away, to think and to....”
“Talk? We’ve had years to talk. We’ve done nothing but talk for the last three years.”
“Some of us more than others.” Alex spat.
“Listen Alex, I’ve apologised a thousand times, we’re beyond that now. This is about you and...”
“Beyond? You cheat with my fucking girlfriend, and we’re beyond that?”
“You know what, this is between you and me, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m done. I’m done with you.”
“Guys, guys. Listen, we know you have your own problems, but we all need to move forwards now.”
Gabe was unusually quiet. “We don’t need to move anywhere. Not together anyway.”
“What?”
“You can do what you want, but...I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“What the hell have we done?” Victoria asked, trying to remember again how a fight between those two had suddenly come to involve all of them.
“All this cloak and dagger stuff, about wanting to meet me here. This isn’t high school, you can’t just force us together and expect us to play nice! There’s bigger stuff at play here.” Gabe was calm and controlled. It was so out of the norm that it worried her.
“Yes, but come on, you two have been friends for years. Can’t you just get over it?” she asked.
“What just kiss and make up, and then go and make another record? You don’t get it, this isn’t just about me and him, it’s about all of us.”
“How is it about all of us?” said Nate, speaking for the first time.
“It’s about us not thinking what we’re doing, just churning out record after record, not taking a break, doing whatever shit the label ask us to ...”
“You used to love it. We all did.”
“Yeah we did, not any more.”
“What changed?” Victoria asked.
“We did! It’s not even about the music any more! It’s about him sleeping with whatever he can, and you buying designer shit and making friends with celebrities. You don’t care about this band any more. You never did. “
It was kind of like being hit in the face. For months it had been about Alex and Gabe, and over time it had shrunk to some kind of school yard spat. It seemed like Alex had gotten over it, but then Gabe just threw in something completely out of the blue. And so not fair.
“How dare you make this about me.”
“But it is!”
She looked at him, breathing heavily, his eyes dark. He needed to shave. This was the person she had written songs with, shared her feelings with as they turned them into songs. They had lived each other’s lives for the past three years.
“Fuck you.” She turned around, walked to the subway, and left.
***
When it came to Joe Trohman’s wedding in Chicago, she knew that she’d have to face them again. She was sat on the floor in the lounge of Bob’s house, putting her make-up on in the mirror - it was taking twice as long because Ursula kept approaching her New Best Friend, either with a toy she wanted to play with, a random object, like a hairbrush or newspaper, or just threw herself on top of her. She’d been kind of distracted lately, and Ursula was begging for some attention. She kept trying to brush her away, but Ursula wasn’t having any of it. “Quit it!” she found herself yelling. Ursula squealed and ran behind the couch, where she kept her collection of toys.
Victoria sighed - it wasn’t Ursula’s fault that she had stuff on her mind, or that she had to share her time with Gizmo and Bob now. She sat back on her heels and turned around to find him standing in the doorway. He was dressed in his suit, looking uncomfortable. Even in a brand new suit he looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. He just looked at her, silently, broodily. For a minute, Victoria thought he was going to yell at her.
“We need to leave in a minute.”
Victoria ran upstairs to threw on her dress - Bob came in and sat on the chair, watching as she ran around, picking up jewellery and a sweater, trying to balance on one leg to put on her heels, giving up and sitting on the edge of the bed to do up the bows.
“You know, we don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to talk to anyone. I can bring you home as soon as the service is over.” It really disturbed her when he tried to have deep and meaningful conversations with her, especially since they couldn’t get through a conversation about groceries without some sort of joke.
What she wanted to say was that he should stop being so stupid, and of course she didn’t want to not talk to anyone, she wasn’t a kid. But she couldn’t lie to him.
“Can we just stay until the service is over? I don’t really want to go, but ... “ she trailed off. He sat down on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her. Of course, Gizmo jumped up too, nearly knocking them off the bed.
“I know it’s going to be hard, you haven’t seen them for a long time. But that’s been a lot of cooling off time, a lot of thinking time. Everything’s different to what it was then.”
Victoria’s eyes grew hot and itchy, and she clenched her jaw, trying to hold the tears in. This wasn’t fair - she never cried in front of anyone, especially not Bob. She turned her face inwards, into his chest so he wouldn’t see her tears.
“Bob, I have seen them. When I went to New York. Ryland and I, we tried to get them to just talk, but Bob it was worse than ever, they’re still so angry ...” she dissolved in sobs. Bob’s arms tightened around her, and she was, again, so, so glad that he existed. He pulled her onto his lap and made shushing noises. She thought he was giving her time to let it out, but when she looked up, she realised he knew what to say, he just didn’t want say it.
“You know it’s over now, right?”
“But he’s still so angry, he just needs to see.”
“He’s seen. He’s not in it any more.” What did Bob know. They hadn’t even met.
“No but he does this. He’s over emotional about stuff and super dramatic. Whenever he got dumped he sits in his underpants for weeks writing soppy ballads.”
“It doesn’t sound like he was feeling emotional.” She aimed to thump his shoulder, but missed and hit the pillow. She tried hard not to laugh, so as not to ruin the serious moment. “Listen, I just think that ...” she looked up at him. He had his lip between his teeth, hesitating. “You need to accept that ... that it’s over. You’ve done the moving on and getting a new life part. This is the only thing holding you back.”
“This is not going to get me to move to Chicago.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s cold there.” Bob smiled, but it wasn’t completely there. She knew he was just hanging around in LA because she was there. He had no other reason to be there, and going out when he might run into his former bandmates was kind of hard on him, too. He was pretty much just waiting to go back home. She could tell he missed it - and that she was holding him back.
As it turns out, it was Ryland she saw first, while Bob was in the bathroom and she was waiting at the bar. She took a deep breath, thinking of some pleasantries to exchange. It wasn’t him that had called her a bitch, and she knew he wouldn’t - there was no point in hostilities. It was him who spoke first.
“Oh my god. Are you ok? I haven’t heard from you since we were in New York, and I thought about calling, but I thought you might be mad...” he was obviously worried that his partner in crime was no longer involved.
“I’m not mad, Ryland. I’m kinda disappointed. I just ... I actually thought things might have changed. But they haven’t. Alex has forgiven him, but Gabe ... his heart’s just not in it any more.”
“Perhaps they just need time. To think. It feels like they’ve had forever, but ..” he trailed off.
“We can’t let Gabe hold us back. We can’t wait around forever. We need to move on, get a life, you know?”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because Bob was right about something. Dammit, I’m not telling him he was right. Listen, I have to go okay?” She’d turned away before he’s even got to say goodbye. Bob was at the bar when she found him. He looked at her, with that wide eyed expression.
“So when are we moving?”
He smiled. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Because really, what was stopping her?
***
Even though it was summer, it was freaking cold in Chicago. She thought it was just her, but as she picked up Gizmo’s leash one morning, and Gizmo ran off, coming back in with his winter sweater in his little mouth, she realised that they’d both become acclimatised. Bob cleared out the spare room for her, and she set up her video equipment in there. She got a job doing some editing, so she could work from home while Bob did ... well, whatever he did. She disappeared all day to work and left him to it.
She’d never lived with a guy before, and it was nothing like she expected. Bob cleared up after himself, and her too. They would go to bed, and she’d wake up with him wrapped around her like an eel. They’d wake up, she’d let Gizmo out while having a crafty cigarette, and he’d feed Ursula and put the coffee on. Even though they’d been together a while now, living together was still a novelty, so sometimes she’d find herself laid across the kitchen table with Bob fucking her, or on top of the counter, thighs clasping him tightly and fingernails digging into his back.
She’d done good. Living with a good man, doing a good job. She had a feeling she’d be looking after a litter of dogs the way Bob kept talking about going to visit shelters. Back to normal. Good.
Of course, photos from the wedding were leaked. There was no official photographers, and Victoria had been looking for a nice photo of her dress (to send to her mom) when she found the one of her and Bob. They weren’t facing the camera, or even each other. They were both engaged in animated conversations with other people, but with their hands still clasped tightly together.
She scrolled down the page. 127 comments. Shit.
They were mostly along the lines of oh my god, what’s he doing with her / when the hell did that happen / what the hell happened to Katlyn. She knew she wasn’t a fangirl favourite, and was used to the bitchy comments. There was another comment though that caught her eye:
WhackParade87 wrote:
OMG he never held hands with Katlyn in public ... thought he wasn’t a PDA kinda guy...
The thing is, she had no idea what he was like in a relationship. She didn’t even know what Katlyn had looked like. A quick search brought up a couple of photos of her. Victoria vaguely recognised her from hanging around the studio when she first moved to LA. She had assumed she worked for the record label. Much less that she was Bob’s girlfriend. She started to get that wrench in her gut whenever she thought about Bob dating anyone but her. She put the laptop away and went to feed the pets.
***
From MTV.Com, September 12th, 2010
It was announced this morning that former Cobra Starship frontman, Gabe Saporta, has been dropped from his solo record deal. To twist the knife even deeper, he was recording on friend Pete Wentz’s album, Fueled by Ramen. When the Cobras split, Saporta agreed to fulfil their album contract with his solo material, with tracks written by Wentz and Gym Class Heros singer Travis McCoy. Whilst no official reasons for the drop have been announced, friends have suggested that nearly a year after he started writing, he still has not produced anything in the recording studio.
This follows after former keytarist in the group, Victoria Asher, was found to be working for the Disney studios, recording voice-overs for minor TV and movie roles. Could a Cobra Starship reunion be back on the horizon?
***
Victoria was stood outside in the yard, smoking. She finished one and immediately lit another without even thinking about it. It seemed a little unfair that Bob was inside, watching some fantasy car factory show whilst she was out here freezing her ass off. She was wearing about three sweaters, including Bob’s ninja turtle hoodie thrown over the top. Gizmo was sitting on her feet and whining, like a cat. It was at times like this that she seriously considered quitting. Bob had quit, as had most of his friends. Although she sometimes saw a look in his eye that gave away just how much he missed it.
She was the only one at Disney who did - all the voice artists took their art very seriously, always using lozenges and throat sprays and drinking hot water with lemon. At first she enjoyed their scornful looks as she came in with her Starbucks. Later she drank it in the car, puffing on one last cigarette before spraying her clothes with perfume and sucking on a breath mint.
After a while, Bob opened the door, sticking only his head out. He blew cold air into the night. “Are you coming back in, or am I going to find you out here tomorrow, with a small dog frozen to your feet?”
Victoria pulled her sweaters tighter around her. “Just let me finish this one?”
“You must have had about five by now, come on, put it out. My feet are getting cold, I need somebody to put them under.”
“Yeah, but...”
“Come on!”
He could shout loud when he wanted to, and even sound kind of threatening. Just not to her. She tried staring him down, but ended up laughing. There was a minute of comfortable silence, of them just staring at each other across the yard.
“You know Gabe’s been dropped from his record label.”
“I thought he was on Wentz’s? Ouch.”
“They said he still hadn’t recorded anything, after a year. It doesn’t surprise me, he was always writing stuff, but he couldn’t sit still long enough to record it. They said about me, too, about me working for Disney.”
“And?”
“That was it, they just said I was working for them. For minor TV and movie roles.”
“Oh I see, you wanted a bigger mention? For them to say you’re a big movie star now?”
“I did not.” He made it sound bad. “I don’t even work for them any more. No, they just made it seem like I’d given up or something, or that I’d failed ... they said it looked like a reunion might be on the cards, now that we’re all such failures.”
“Well, I thought you had given up?”
“What?” She was kind of surprised that given the amount of time she spent with Bob, and as well as she thought she had gotten to know him, he could say things that completely threw her.
“You’re telling me editing is what you want to do for the rest of your life?”
“Can we perhaps finish this conversation inside?” She could see Bob’s warm breath cooling in the air and she was out of cigarettes - plus this really seemed like the type of talk where she wanted to be able to storm out if she could. But Bob wasn’t moving.
“You’re telling me you really want to sit in a studio, with no windows, staring at a screen, with only a bag of cheetos for company.”
“Studios can have windows. Anyway, that not what editing is ... and why would I be eating cheetos?”
“I’m just saying, it’s not what you really want to do.”
“Whoa, hang on. You’re telling me that you haven’t just given up...what the hell do you spend your days doing, except walking Gizmo on doggie marathons?”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different? It’s exactly the same.” He opened the door wider so she could come in, rubbing her hands together. He sat back on the couch, as if the conversation was over and they could go back to the TV. Victoria stood at the door, clearly not done yet.
“Bob, I don’t even know why you left. It’s been six months, and you’ve not even told me. And I just let you, because whatever you wanted to do, I’d support you.”
“But my wrists...”
“Shut up about your fucking wrists. They’re an excuse.”
They just stood, staring at each other, breathing heavily. She could hardly believe she’d said it, and kind of wished she hadn’t. This could so, so easily turn into a massive argument. It was like it was hanging on the edge of a precipice, rocking and swaying, no one sure of what way it would fall.
“I love playing drums, I do. But ... I hate everything that goes with it. Interviews, and websites with all this stuff about me, and speculating about my personal life. When Dixie died, there was an article on People magazine, can you believe it? Of all the stuff that we did, and that happened to us ... I mean I nearly got an infection in my brain because I got burned on a video shoot, and they write an article because my dog died? It’s just fucked up. I could do it for a while ... but not any more. I was just a kid, I could live in a van, not any more.”
“I don’t mind that stuff. I don’t mind doing interviews, because it gets people interested in my band. And I like that people make websites about us, because it shows how creative and loyal our fans are.”
“But you’re not in a band any more.”
“But one day, I might be again. And I’ll have to go out on the road. I don’t want to go if you won’t come with me.”
“Yeah but what about when we have babies and stuff?”
Babies and stuff. Bob Bryar and babies. Her, Bob Bryar, and babies. Jesus.
“Listen, Blondie.”
“Ok, Brownie.”
“That doesn’t work!”
How could they go from a serious conversation about the future to something so stupid?
“Why did you break up with Katlyn?”
“What? That was nearly a year ago.” She just stared at him. “I didn’t love her. Anything else you wanna know?” He raised his eyebrow at her.
“No. I love you.”
“I love you too. And quit smoking.”
“Ok.”
***
August 16th, 2006
Summer in New York was just icky, no doubt about it. The subway was sweaty and dirty, and the streets smelled of trash. But something about this day was different. The sun seemed brighter, the air less muggy. The cab drivers were politer, the streets cleaner. She and Lauren had met up and had waffles for breakfast, and then shopping. They had been to the Pixie Market on the Upper East Side when Lauren had to leave for her shift at the diner. Victoria stayed a little longer - some days everything she picked up was full of holes and dirt, but today she’d found two dresses from the Sixties. No funky smells, no suspicious stains. She and Frank were going to play their first show that weekend. It had been a long time since she’d been on stage, but she felt ready. She was going to enjoy it.
She was coming out of Starbucks, trying to find a lighter in her satchel whilst balancing a latte when Alex Suarez elbowed her in the side. He was kind of clumsy as it was with his long gangly limbs, but throw in trying to text without his glasses...
“Fucking Jesus...” she cursed as she rescued the cup with some sort of miracle ninja move.
“Victoria?” She burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not you, it’s just that, god the last time I saw you, I was what, 17?”
“Yeah, I suppose it was.”
“Hey, how’s Ryan?”
“Ryan’s good, he’s finishing up school at Brown.”
She smiled to herself. Brown. Her mother would have been so proud. She might stop asking her when she was going to get her roots dyed. “So are you back in New York now?” Alex asked.
“Well, I moved back out here for film school, but I’m flying back to LA next week. See, me and my friend Frankie kind of have this side project going on, but we’re just going to head out for the summer, you know, play a couple of shows.” They had finally managed to get the equipment to make a video. A big step in her career, her first video. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to intern for much longer and start making some money.
“Yeah, what happened to Optimo?”
“Well, you know, we grew up, grew apart and stuff. No big deal.”
He turned to leave - “listen, it’s been great to catch up, but I gotta go to work.”
“You don’t still work in that bakery do you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m only doing the early shift. I’m in this new band you see. With the bassist from Midtown?”
She looked at him blankly. Who the hell were Midtown?
“You know, we’re looking for someone to play keytar with us ...”
“Keytar? What is it, an 80s revival thing?”
“Kinda, we’re just trying to do something a bit different, you know. You still play the piano right?”
“Yeah, but I’m flying to LA in two weeks - I’ve got a new internship to start.”
“I suppose. Let me know if you change your mind, ok?”
***
Time rolls on, love falls apart, and you’ve not spent a single day outside my heart.
When the phone call came, Bob was kneeling between her thighs, his head nodding slightly and having her arch her back and twist her fingers in the sheets. She had her fingers twisted into his hair as he slowly licked over her, pushing his thick fingers into her as far as they would go, gently curling them as she gasped under him. He used his arm to push her hips down into the bed. There was something weirdly hot about the fact that she was laid naked over the bed whilst he was still fully clothed.
She checked her voicemail later, while Bob was in the shower. There was something desperate in his voice that made her agree to meet him. “Please. I need to speak with you.” There was something about his over-formality that made a little something in her gut twist.
He was waiting for her at the bar. He’d put on weight - it didn’t look bad, he had always edged on too skinny before. It would have suited him, if his hair hadn’t needed a wash and he didn’t have dark circles around his eyes.
“Go on” she said, warily.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking. It’s about time the five of us went back in to the studio, finish up that album we started.” He looked up at her, like nothing had ever happened.
“No, Gabe.”
“We don’t have to finish that album. No, no that’s a good idea, yes, we’ll start a new one. You know, a fresh start, a fresh sound. Yeah. It’ll be amazing.”
“No, Gabe, you don’t understand. I don’t want to come back.”
“I’m sorry about what I said to you. In New York. It was cruel of me.”
“I know you didn’t mean it, but that’s not why.”
He just stared at her. “It was you. It was you and Ryland. You called us all up, under some stupid pretence ... this is what you wanted all along!”
“It was. Not any more.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I grew up, ok? I realised that we can’t go on this way forever. We’re not in college anymore.” She looked up at him, mournful. “We can’t keep having this same fight.”
***
When she got home later that night, she decided to have a bath, with the vague intention that the warm water and bubbles would help to clear her thoughts. Bob climbing in behind her didn’t really help. He’d been out at a gig, some friend of his who was looking for some help setting up. She smelled sweat and beer as he pulled off his hoodie and jeans, tossing them onto the floor before he climbed in, legs either side of hers, pulling her waist back towards him.
“How was it?” she asked, leaning her head back against his chest.
“Good. They want me to do some stuff for them next week too. What did you do?”
“I went to see, umm, Gabe.” She expected to him to flinch or something, but he kept his hands tight around her.
“Yeah?”
“He looks a mess. He really does. He was talking about us all getting back together. It’s like, it’s all the rest of us wanted for nearly a year, and he was so against it, and so angry. And now we’ve all moved on and started over, he wants us to start up again.”
“Why has he changed his mind?”
“Time, I guess.” She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing in to him.
“I love you, you know?”
“I know. I love you too.”
***
She couldn’t believe they were yelling. Damn kid, she tried to give him good news and he refuses to accept it, asking a million questions and tossing his phone around his hand.
“Yeah, but why?”
“I can’t stand to see you miserable.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you, you stupid fuck! I care about all of you. I don’t care about the stupid keytar, not really. Or even the music. I never did. It was you guys ... I’m so damn sappy. I sound like a daytime movie or something.”
“You’re a hot mess, Asher.”
“Shut up, doofus.”
***
From MTV.com, February 21st, 2011
Cobra Starship picked up their first Grammy award last night for their first single in over two years, ‘Good Girls Go Bad’. The group picked up the award for ‘Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals’ at last night’s ceremony. This follows the phenomenal success of their third album, ‘Hot Mess’, released after a two year hiatus.
Keytarist Victoria Asher, who recently married the band’s drum technician Bob Bryar, said to MTV News on the red carpet “it’s been a long two years for us. And it’s been the best two years we could have asked for. Because, without that time apart, we never would have realised what we had in the first place. Things change, and people change, and we fall apart. But there’s always something, or someone, holding us together.”
***
Victoria’s eyes ached from the flashing bulbs by the time she got back to her hotel room. Her dress was digging in under her ribs and the balls of her feet ached, red grooves on the side where the beautiful but painful shoes dug in. She started pulling everything off of her as soon as the door closed, kicking the shoes off and dress to the floor. Bob had fallen asleep with the TV on, but woke with a start when he heard the door open, watching her silently as she made her way over to the bed. When she was down to just her underwear she climbed on the bed next to him, he moved his arm around her, so she lay half on his chest, looking up at him. His hair was getting long again and she brushed it out of his sleepy eyes. She’d asked him to come with them, even though she knew he’d say no.
“How was it?”
“Good. Long. I wish you were there with us.”
“I know. I watched you on TV though. You all looked so happy.”
“Do you wish you could have gone with the guys?”
“They did just fine without me. Besides, I saw them at the wedding.”
Victoria just looked at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, and the freckles on his nose. At the small round scar on his cheek, and the scratch on his forehead where Splinter had jumped up and scratched him while he was throwing a stick for her.
When the band first broke up, she really thought her life was over. When Bob left his band, she thought his life might be over too. Everything had fallen apart and all of her dreams died. She never thought would end up married to Bob Bryar. But she was. It was like the biggest bonus ever, and she didn’t know what she did to deserve all of this. All she had to do was hold on.