He Went Out On A Chariot Of Fire

The Evidence Was Hidden In This Song

I stared at my apartment. I haven't been here since Ronnie died. I've been at the hospital and then the memorial service. Jacky placed his hand on my shoulder. "I'll help you."
I jumped. "When the hell did you get here?"
"Anthony told me what you were doing and asked if I could help."
"Oh. Okay." I relaxed.
"What do you wanna start with?"
"Ronnie's room."
"Okay."
I followed him to Ronnie's room. It looked the same as he left it, exactly how you'd imagine it. Clothes strewn about, empty Monster cans and water bottles, a guitar was laying on his bed (which was unmade), his notebook of lyrics was laying on the floor. I knelt down next to it, flipping through the songs. "Jacky?"
"Mhm?" He stood next to me.
"Do you recognize any of these?"
"That one." He pointed at a page. "That's a verse he mentioned, was gonna be in a song called Alone."
"Did he sing it?"
"Uh, yeah. It goes like this." He paused. "Oh, so fuck you too, you better take a step back before I call up the crew. You talk a lot of shit but you spread nothing but lies. You keep on running your mouth you better run for your life. But like... Screaming." Jacky was self conscious about his singing voice.
"I'm gonna keep this." I ran to my room and placed it on my pillow.
"Hey, what's this?" He was looking under the bed.
"What's what?"
He pulled out a box. "Do you wanna open it, or...?"
"You can."
Jacky took the lid off. Inside was photos on top of something. "Hey. These are from... Good Girls Bad Guys. Yeah. God, I looked like a jerk."
"You still kinda look like a jerk." I laughed a bit. It felt nice to laugh again.
He chuckled and slid the photos off. "Oh. It's..."
"Is that the jacket Ronnie wore?"
Jacky held it up. "Yeah."
"That's a relic." I put it back in the box and covered it with the photos. "We need a keep pile."
"Yeah, we do. The bed?"
"Yeah." I put the box on the bed.
We spent the next hour throwing away trash and meaningless clothes. I ended up keeping a couple outfits he wore in music videos, a couple hoodies of his, and all his band merch from both bands. Next, we went through random stuff. "Can I ask a question?" Jacky asked, tying a garbage bag.
"Sure."
"Um, so Derek told the fans yesterday that Ronnie died. Um, and they were wondering who the new singer is gonna be. And we were talking. It's a unanimous decision that we want someone with a past like Ronnie's."
"Tragic?"
"Bingo. We want a theme, you know? Pain and heartbreak."
"So what? Gonna hire Craig Mabbitt?"
"No. Hell no." He smiled. "Actually... And I don't want an answer now. But would you like to be our new singer?"
I looked down and bit my lip. "I dunno. I mean... I know I should. That it would be good for everyone, the band, probably for me. Therapy. But I don't want to feel like I'm replacing him, and... I can't give you an answer."
"Yeah, that's fair, of course. Just know you're first place in the running."
There was a The Drug In Me Is You CD laying in front of me. I picked it up and flipped it around. On the back, in sharpie, it said "RONNIE'S COPY: DO NOT PLAY UNLESS YOU'RE RONNIE." I tossed it onto the pile of keep stuff. "Thanks."
"Of course. Listen." He looked around at the almost empty room. "I'm assuming this stuff is going to your room?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want help?"
"No, I'm okay. You're free to go. Thank you, Jacky." I hugged him.
"Yeah, of course." He hugged me back and kissed my cheek. "Just call me if you need anything."
"Okay."
He left the room to go to his house. I took the pile of stuff on Ronnie's bed and put it in various places in my room. The clothes went in the closet, boxes in my closet also. Walking back, I looked at the empty room and sighed. We just erased memories of Ronnie. Like he was never here. I went back to my room and thumbed through the lyrics. There were ones for songs called "Alone" and "Asshole" and "Rolling Stone" and of course, "Fashionably Late." This was all I had of Ronnie. All I had left.