December
Harry
"Harry, pass me a beer, would ya?" Jeffrey says to me, the two of us lingering my kitchen with Mitch and Sarah.
With only a couple days left in the year, I asked a couple of my team members to come over to my house in Los Angeles to celebrate the successes of the year. I thought a small party, or rather gathering, could lift all our spirits - or at least mine. I haven't been as depressed lately but I have been incredibly lonely.
It sucks being without Amelia, to put it simply. We talked on Christmas and opened our presents up over the phone together. I had gotten her a signed copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by some of the cast of the movie, as well as a decorative typewriter for her office and a pair of blue light glasses since she's behind a computer all day long. And then Amelia had gifted me these custom guitar picks, a colorful cardigan, and a long distance friendship lamp. I didn't understand the concept of it at first, but when I learned she has the other lamp and we could communicate by changing the lamp's colors to let the other person know we are thinking of them, I was all in. Immediately we set up the lamps so when I tap mine, hers illuminates a warm sunset color scheme, and when she taps hers, mine illuminates a sea greenish-blue.
I sigh thinking about her and down the rest of the tequila I was drinking in an attempt to numb my emotions. Mitch side glances at me with a concerned look but I try to ignore it. He's been doing that a lot since we reunited. I know he's worried about both Amelia and me but I wish he didn't make it so obvious sometimes.
I place my yellow mug on the counter and then open up the fridge, looking at the various bottles lining the inside.
"What kind?" I ask Jeffrey.
I glance over my shoulder and see him shrug.
"Surprise me," he says.
I nod and pull out a Stella Artois before sliding it across the counter to Jeffrey. He thanks me and then uses the bottle opener on the table to crack it open.
"Is Kid coming?" Mitch asks me, in reference to Kid Harpoon.
"I think so," I respond. "He should be here a little later, as will Ryan,"
"Ah Ryan," Sarah sighs. "I miss him. I haven't seen him since the tour ended. How's he doing?"
"He's good, I think. He was ecstatic when I gave him the invite. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you guys,"
The lot of us eventually get settled in the main area of the house, some mindless American football game on the telly. I tune in occasionally to see what's going on, but mainly I focus just on drinking my mug full of tequila. It burns as it goes down, but eventually, as the night goes on, I feel its effects taking over me.
Kid Harpoon arrived nearly an hour after Mitch asked about him. It's good to see him again, although I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of questions he had for me concerning my next album. I thought Jeffrey would be the one to harp on me but apparently not. Kid was very interested in when I will start writing again. I had to tell him to put a sock in it because I was definitely not ready to discuss the next part of my career. Not right now at least, especially while bordering on drunk.
Eventually Ryan comes to join us as well. I was expecting him earlier but pleased to see him nonetheless. I'm hoping that his exuberant behavior will provide some sort of distraction to my shitty life but upon seeing the sheepish expression on his face, I know something is up.
"What's wrong?" I lazily ask him, not even bothering to say hello. I take a large gulp from my mug and swallow it without hesitation.
"Oh - uh - nothing," Ryan stammers as he sits down on the couch next to me. I look at him with a raised eyebrow, not believing him even in my inebriated state. He sighs. "A couple magazines keep reaching out to me to confirm a story. It's not a big deal..."
