The past week had been almost entirely uneventful, and Sherry had been holed up in his flat the entire time. Whatever he’s been doing, he’s been apparently very busy. He’s the only one though. I’ve been full of spare time. The repair shop had been pretty slow, and my boss had given me a few days off. He’s a nice guy but I feel like he’s just a little too cautious with me. Can’t fault him for it though.

“Okay, what horrors await now…” I come to Sherry’s door and heave a sigh before knocking. Suddenly I hear clamoring followed by a muffled shout. A few more moments of silence pass until the door jerks open abruptly, but catches on the door chain still fastened to the slider.

“Oh! Sorry, hold on just a moment!” Sherry hurriedly unlatches the door and pulls it open with just as much fervor initially. He grins from ear to ear, flashing the gap in his teeth at me as he laughs and grabs my shoulders.

“Nickie!”

“Sherry.” I blink at him.

He blinks back, the smile tensely plastered on his face as a silence passes between us. “Come in come in.” He pulls me into the doorway and finally releases me once inside. I take the moment to look at the state of the flat.

“Jesus Sherry, is this what you’ve been up to?” My eyes rove across the mess of paper and instruments strewn about the room.

“It’s been a hard week.” Sherry scampers to cluttered music sheets on the ground, which I assume is what he had knocked over getting to the door. He turns back to me with a grimace while gripping the papers tightly. “I’ve been out of the good stuff, man. It’s so hard to focus right now I’ve been all over the place. I have to make it all come out right, have to dedicate just a little bit of time to it.”

“A week is not a little bit of time.” I roll my eyes at him.

“It’d take a day on speed.” He starts gripping at the hairs on the back of his neck. I slap his hands away.

“You’re doing it again.”

“God!” He jumps and looks at his hands fearfully. “See? See?! I don’t do that anymore and now I’m doing it again! Been doing it since we lost our dear poor Simon, the bastard.”

“Calm down Sherry or you’ll go bald.” I make my way over to my guitar and toss a glance back to him. “Don’t even know why they call it speed. You’re crazier off it than on.”

I perk up at the sound of our manager’s name.

“Ez?” I hadn’t seen Ezequiel in a long while, not since the other band he managed went on tour. “What are you doing here?”

Ezequiel steps into the flat and gives the same startled expression I made earlier at its sight. “I uh… You boys really fall apart without me don’t you.”

Sherry lets out a small wheezing laugh. “Oh of course not! I’m not… I’m doing good, I'm doing good! Really! It was just a bad week…”

“I see.” Ezequiel says flatly. Sherry motions for him to come further into the living room, and he sits down on one of the chairs.

“It's nice to see you again at least. What brings you out here?” I turn my attention back to my guitar, tuning it as I speak.

“Well, quite a bit if I’m being honest.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers drumming on his knees. “The reason I’ve dropped by is to be the bearer of some rather uh, heavy news.” Ezequiel tugs at his collar nervously. “But, also a new opportunity of... sorts. If you can call it that.”

I break my attention from tuning and look back at him with suspicion. “Go on.”

“You remember Myrtle?”

“And the Sopor Torpors?” Sherry pipes up.

Ezequiel crosses his arms and frowns. “It’s just Myrtle now. The rest of the band is uh… Not with us anymore.”

My eyes narrow as I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “What?”

“They just came back here for the end of their tour. I was delayed, Myrtle took a separate cab from the rest of the band, and well…” Ezequiel lets out a sigh, “Awful accident. Fatal car crash. Took out everyone instantly.”

I nearly drop my guitar as I tense up. “They- they’re…” My gaze lowers.

“Is Myrtle okay?” Sherry approaches Ezequiel hesitantly.

“Physically, yes. Can’t say the same about the rest of her though.” Ezequiel rubs his neck and looks from Sherry to me. “You’re both welcome to come to the funeral by the way. I’ll give you the details later. There’s another pressing issue now because of this. Myrtle and the Sopor Torpors were recently signed up on the label. Now they’re gone, and Myrtle’s done.”

I blink, taken aback. “She’s quitting music?”

“I mean, she’s got a pretty obvious reason. We don’t have anyone else as ready to take up that vacancy they left. Heartlocked is in a prime position to fill it up, provided you finally get permanent members.”

My gaze turns to a glare as a bitterness paints my tone. “Excuse me? They’re not buried yet and you’re trying to plug us in? Jesus christ Ez can you give it a moment?”

“Listen Nickie I’m not exactly one for being opportunistic, you think I’d be doing something this tone deaf for no reason?” He stands up and snaps back at me.

He’s right though. He’s always been good to us, and to her. I’m just… Upset. God.

“The label’s breathing down my neck real hard. Myrtle was good, real good. The band did beyond spectacular on tour. Nobody else is anywhere near that fresh right now, nobody but you both. Ragged needs Heartlocked. But they’re not gonna wait forever.” Ezequiel frowns, glancing back and forth from me to Sherry. “You’ve got till the end of the year. Get your members, pick a sound, and Nickie,” Ezequiel approaches me.

“Yeah?” I brace myself.

“For the love of god behave yourself.” He towers over me with a grimace. “That attitude’s gonna break the band if you keep this up.”

“I don’t tolerate hecklers.” I return his glare.

“Start tolerating them. Your image is the most important thing.” Easing up, Ezequiel sighs in exasperation. “The fancy suits and the lovely voice are pittance compared to your lack of tableside manners. I hear you lost yet another drummer this last gig. How long did this one last? A few months?”

Sherry looks away from us and sighs, “Just one month.”

“It was creative differences!” I throw my hands up in the air. “He couldn’t get it. Not the right sound, and he wasn’t playing it right and was fumbling everywhere.”

“It’s a drum, Nickie. It all sounds the same, just different tempos.” Ez frowns at me.

“Wasn’t the right sound.” I reiterate. I don’t know how to explain it any different. The sound is wrong! What’s so hard to understand?

“Nickie…” Sherry looks at me. “Really, come on. He’s got a point.”

Groaning, I wave both of them off in frustration. “Fine, fine! Sure. I’ll play nice. I’m vetting members extra hard though!”

“Like we’re having people just lining up for the job.” Sherry rolls his eyes.

“I’ll know the right person when I get them playing. It ain’t just about getting the timing down, it's the soul.” I watch Sherry and Ezequiel exchange glances and shrugs. Whatever, they don’t understand. A moment passes and I sigh. “So what are you going to do now, Ez?”

“Check back in with Ragged Records, go to the funeral, and keep an eye out for you both.” Ezequiel shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette.

“Oh, here.” Sherry extends a lighter.

“Thanks.” He takes a long drag and exhales the smoke with a sigh. “I expect to see both of you there by the way. It would do Myrtle good.”

My eyes soften as I put the guitar back onto the stand. “Of course.”

Ezequiel retrieves a pen and notepad from his inner pocket and writes something down before ripping it out and putting it on the side table. “Directions. Don’t get lost.” He takes another hit and looks back and forth between us. “For now, I have an unfortunate amount of paperwork to do. Sorry for the surprise drop and bad news, boys.” Ezequiel frowns with his brows knotted up in an apologetic way. “I’ll be on my way. EzPz is busy busy.” He pushes up his glasses and makes his way to the door.

“See you later Ez.” Sherry sees him out. After closing the door, he turns back back to me with a gutted stare. “You gotta be kidding me…” Sherry rubs his face and leans back against the door. “I don’t wanna think about this. Think I need a cigarette myself.” Sherry guns it to one of the drawers on the side table and pulls out a pack, shakily grabbing one and lighting it.

“Sherry…”

“We have to practice.”

“Sherry.”

“Hey…” I approach him and place a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to look at me. “You’re going to burn something shaking like that.” His teeth grit onto the cigarette tightly and his eyes wince, trying so hard not to break. I gaze at him knowingly and gently take it from his mouth. He relents and sits back onto the chair behind him as I put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

“It’s the worst ain’t it? Ain’t it?” Sherry laughs pitifully, his voice wavering. “What the fuck is happening?”

“I think we should have a practice session later.”

“Drinks now then yeah?” He looks up at me, his eyes haunted.

“Yeah. I don't feel like being sober right now either.” I heave a sigh as I put away some of the mess on my way to the kitchen. I retrieve two beers and bring them back to Sherry. He flicks his hand and sinks into his seat.

“Would you do me the honors? You know my wrists are too weak.”

I let out a tired chuckle and slam the caps off the bottles. “Here you go, anything else?” I take a hard swig.

Sherry takes the beer and waves. “No, it’s perfect. Nothing like getting wasted in the morning with my mate.”

“Absolutely.” We toast halfheartedly.