Ruin Porn (34 page)

Before he knew it, they were on the last song of the set and Miah was quieting the crowd, motioning to them to settle. He hadn’t done this on any of the other dates, but since this was the last concert in their international tour, it wasn’t unlike Miah to want to give something special to the fans to commemorate it.

“Thank you for joining us tonight, Brazil!” The responding cry was deafening. “You’ve just witnessed the last time Resonator will ever play together. Good fucking night and have a nice life.”

Miah dropped the mic on the stage, turned to face the other three, and flicked them off with both his hands.

Holy fuck, he knew.

Miah stormed off the stage, plowing into Finn with his shoulder as he stomped off. He couldn’t move. He had no idea what to do. Even after the curtain was drawn and the lights went up, when Evin left in silence and Ritchie gave a defeated
I’ll call you
on his way out, Finn remained.

He’d never wanted the spotlight and he wouldn’t miss it.

But those three….

He didn’t know where he went from here.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Los Angeles

I
N
A
dazed fog of confusion, bags at his feet, Evin ran his fingers through his beard, trying to get a grasp on what the hell had happened. How something so great had turned so fucking wrong so fucking fast. He’d been breaking it down, detail by detail from the moment he’d walked into corner drugstore in Detroit and read the words—
Powerful. Comfortable. Easy.
—to standing once again in a rundown apartment on the wrong side of LA. Powerful, comfortable, and easy, huh? Well the premonition had been correct on one point: his time with Rez had been powerful. As for the rest of it, other than a few fleeting moments of time, he’d never been at ease or comfortable. An ugly laugh escaped him. More like, in the words of one of the great lyricists, “Sold my soul to rock n’ roll.”

He’d paid the price for his minute of fame, perpetuated the lie, and deserved his fate.

Evin stripped out of his clothes and dropped them in the trashcan on his way to the bathroom. He set the tap and stepped beneath the lukewarm flow, his mind still reeling as he scrubbed his skin. There wasn’t enough hot water—not that this shithole had any—or soap to wash away the stench of what he’d done or where he’d ended up.

Giving up, Evin stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and leaned against the counter. The mirror, like his brain, was covered in a fog. He ran his hand across the mirror and stared at his distorted reflection, barely recognizing himself.

He pointed at the man in the mirror. “You’re a fucking fake,” he spat, “Evin or whoever the fuck you are.”

He’d let the fame suck him in, change him, and now it had taken him down and spit him out, leaving him unrecognizable.

He’s even worse
, a voice in his head whispered.

Evin didn’t even have to think about who
he
was.

Finn had drawn him in with those Irish good looks and charming smile. He’d made Evin feel special, like he fucking mattered in this crazy world. As if he meant something outside of the hype and the fame.

Evin curled his hands into fists and glared at his reflection. Lies. Lies. Lies. All of it.

He wasn’t Evin. Never had been.

He snatched the pair of scissors from the medicine cabinet and began cutting at his beard. He wasn’t what Finn and the rest of the members of Rez had made him.

“I’m fucking
Kevin
Rene!” he screamed as he continued to cut at the beard Finn had once run his cheek against, run his fingers through, and lied about how much he loved it.

“You like this, you fucker? Well, fuck you!”

Evin threw the scissors at the mirror. They ricocheted, but he ignored the sting of pain as they hit his chest. He grabbed an old razor—dulled from time and too many uses—and shaved every trace of hair from his face, leaving it raw and bleeding.

Still he didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. He saw the man Finn had fooled. The man who had dared to dream, to hope. The man who had wanted Finn’s warm, pale skin against his. Who still craved it, lies and heartache be damned. The same idiot who, if he hadn’t already sold his soul, would do it again for one more touch.

Evin’s knees buckled and he fell to the cold linoleum floor and hung his head in his hands.

“I’m Kevin Rene,” he wailed, even though there was no one left to hear him. “I’m Kevin-fucking-Rene!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Three months later

E
VIN
STARED
at the door and watched it bow under the weight of the banging fist.

“Evin! I know you’re home,” Miah said, his gravelly voice not needing to be so loud to penetrate the pressboard, but the urgency and stubbornness still there.

“How are you here already?” Evin yelled back. “It’s at least a five-hour plane ride from Detroit to LA and the article just came out. Oh yeah, and you hate me. Pretty sure that article didn’t do any favors for how you view me.”

“Jesus fuck, Ev. Don’t make this harder than it already is. As soon as the mag teased that you were doing a tell-all, I knew what it would be about. I got an advance copy from Shonda, but she made me promise to wait until today to talk to you. And I don’t hate you. Please let me in, Ev. We need to talk.”

“Fuck you, Jeremiah. Call me Kevin.”

On the other side of the door, there was a thump like Miah was resting his head or his hand there. There was quiet for a moment, then, “It’s not who you are anymore.”

“Because of you, you homophobic asshole!” Evin yelled.

“Okay. Yeah. I deserve that.”

Evin put his forehead to the door.
This same fucking door.
“No. I’m not letting you in.”

“Fine,” Miah huffed. “I’ll talk to you from here.”

There was the sound of paper rustling, and then Miah started reading aloud from what had to be the end of the article.

“I’m gay,” Evin says, as if he’s going to choke on the word. “Sorry, I should be more confident when I say that. You would think it’s the first time I’ve said that out loud. It isn’t.”

“Is there a reason you’re coming out with this now? Someone special?”

Evin laughs in a way that contorts his face into someone nearly unrecognizable, like he’s crippled by pain. “The only man I ever loved broke my trust. He broke everything. He’s not worth coming out for.”

“So why, then?”

“I’m tired of the lies. Everyone deserves to be able to live their truth.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “You were in love with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with Finn?”

Evin stared at the door, fury overtaking him. He ripped it open. “When the hell was I supposed to do that? You screamed at me, told me I’d fucked everything up, and that it was over. When exactly was I supposed to tell you that I’d fallen in love with Finn? It doesn’t matter anyway. Apparently you and I are alike with one thing. I won’t waste my time on someone I can’t trust.”

“I lied,” Miah said, so quietly Evin wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.

“What?”

Miah cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and looked Evin in the eye. “
I
was the one that lied.”

“Speak really slowly, Miah, like I’m a fucking dumbass. Because I could swear you just said
you
were the one who lied to
me
.”

“You’re going to hate me.”

He crooked an eyebrow. “You think I don’t already?”

“Finn wasn’t sleeping with Alessandra. Never did. And he wasn’t making promises to Ritchie on the side. Ritchie told me he thought you and Finn loved each other but just couldn’t get it right. I lied to hurt you.”

Evin’s head was going to pop off his neck. “Why the
fuck
would you do that?”

“I saw the pics with Ritchie and I freaked. I don’t really remember what happened when I went to see you—”

“What the hell does Ritchie have to do with hurting me?” Evin studied Miah’s face, looking for an answer, but didn’t see anything there. Just the usual Miah, godlike and all business. Confidence embodied. Evin thumped his hand against the doorjamb to emphasize his point. “I never did anything Ritchie didn’t want.”

Those words brought on a falter in Miah’s demeanor. A flicker of defeat and sadness. “I—”

Evin took his hand away so he wouldn’t slap Miah just because he was a convenient distance away. “In Brazil you told me Finn didn’t give a fuck about me and was fucking the entire world just for fun. Now you’re telling me you lied, that Finn didn’t do all the things you said he had. Which one is it, Miah? Which one! And why the fuck would you tell me that and break up Rez? We had everything! And now we have nothing. Not even each other. I don’t understand.”

“Shit, Ev. Neither do I.” Miah’s outer layer of confidence cracked, began to fall apart. Miah was stripped bare in front of him, and Evin could barely recognize the scared man.

“Then what, Miah? What the fuck happened?”

Miah looked away from Evin, tears brimming in his eyes that he swiped away. “I think…. Fuck. I have feelings for Ritchie. Fuck it, I know I do. Or at least I did. I don’t know—”

Evin stumbled back. That was not what he’d expected to hear. At fucking all. “Holy shit.”

“I don’t know what to do with them, or him. I flipped out when I saw those pics because he and you and Finn….”

“It’s what you want to do with him?”

“No!” Miah protested, then shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“So tell him!”

“I can’t. I won’t. This
thing
has to be because he’s my best friend. There isn’t anything else.”

“Miah—”

“There’s nothing there. I was wrong. You can’t tell him. Promise me you won’t.”

“I haven’t talked to Ritchie since Brazil. Why would I now?”

“’Cause we all fucked up. All four of us. Even if we never do another concert or another album, I know you can’t keep living like this—without them. I can’t either. Ritchie and I have been talking again. I didn’t tell him… what I just told you. But he knows I overreacted. He’s willing to forgive. Way too willing. But Finn won’t answer our calls.”

Miah waved the magazine. “We don’t know where he is, but in the article you say you do. You have to find Finn and talk to him. We have to find a way to get Rez back together.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Northern Michigan

“D
ID
YOU
read it?” his mum asked with the nonchalant force of a woman who knew she was in the right for prying. Finn, not giving a fuck what side of the morality scale he tilted into, considered hanging up on her for the first time in his life.

“I already know what it says,” he answered instead.

“Oh you do, huh? Didn’t know you’d developed mind-reading skills while in hiding.”

Finn slid down his $5 couch and set his feet up on the pallet coffee table, avoiding the splintered edge. He needed to get out sandpaper and smooth that part down. Maybe that would be his one productive to-do for the day so he didn’t feel like a total shit.

“I’m not in hiding, Mum.”

“Exile, then.” He balked, but she continued talking around him. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Finnegan—”

“Elizabeth!” His da’s voice boomed over the line. “Are you harassing the poor kid again? Gimme the phone. Uh-huh, give it here. Finn?”

“Yeah, Da.”

There was the sound of a door closing. “It’s fucking hot out today. How’s the weather there?”

Finn watched the poplar leaves dancing in the warm breeze outside of his screened-in porch. “We got snow.”

His da hesitated for a moment. “You little bastard. It isn’t neighborly to fuck with the aged.” A lighter snicked and his da puffed into the phone as he talked around his cigar. Finn sighed. All signals pointed to his da wanting to get serious. “Ritchie came by to check on you.”

“I can’t see him. I told you that.”

“’Cause you was having a ride?”

He was not having a conversation about him and Ritchie fucking. Again. “Jesus, Da!”

Finn’s da just snorted. Okay, serious was relative, he supposed.

Finn scratched at his hip where his one tattoo was. On all intellectual levels, he was aware that the tattoo had healed with speed and precision, leaving the skin smooth to his fingertips. But he would have sworn he felt it, like a wound and bandage at the same time, reminding him of the pain but refusing to let him forget the good.

“Please tell me you didn’t tell him where I am,” Finn begged. The only other person besides his parents that knew where the cabin was located was Evin. And he wasn’t coming anywhere near Finn ever again. But if anyone was willing to jump in a car and drive seven hours into the middle of bumfuck Michigan, then it would be Ritchie. Finn wasn’t ready to look him in the eye yet, though. While it had been Miah that had brought an end to Rez and their lifelong friendship, it had been Finn that had started all of this in the first place. He needed time for some private lashings of his pride before he could face Ritchie or his parents again, let alone the press that hadn’t stopped hounding him since Brazil.

“I’m not gonna give up any of yer secrets, son. You’re your own man. I just need you to tell me what you want me to do.”

When had he become so prone to weepiness?
Finn swiped at the corner of his eye. “I appreciate that, Da. When I know, you’ll know.”

“Okay, then. Write if you get work,” his da replied with his usual send-off, the
I love you
implied and always unverbalized.

“Give my love to Mum,” he said, the same love for his dad unspoken yet absolute.

It was how his family functioned—on actions not words. The way it should be.

Miah’s words had driven them all apart when the truth existed in their actions. Almost worse was that Evin had believed Miah without question. He hadn’t even bothered to consider everything Finn had done that contradicted those false accusations, let alone come talk to Finn to find out the truth, like a reasonable fucking adult. Evin’d cut off contact with them, yet offered his story to a reporter he barely knew.