At my raised brow, Enzo takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to calm down. “Okay… I need to calm down, and I need you tolistento me, Riot.”
“Iamlistening.”
“You’re not.” The creases around his mouth deepen, making him look decades older than he actually is. “I need you to do this community service, and I need you to do it in the next six months. Otherwise, you’re going to prison. And it won’t be a short stay.”
I walk over to the armchair and plop down. There’s no point in fighting this. I know that. “Tell me what I have to do.”
Enzo lets out a breath of relief, the crease between his brows flattening. “Like I said, it’s only six hundred hours. Twenty-five hours a week, if you use the whole six months. Plus, it’s something you’ll actuallyenjoydoing.”
“Which is?”
“You’ll be teaching guitar lessons at Hightide Records and?—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.No.”
Enzo’s smile dies. “Riot…”
“No. I’m not doing it.” I take a deep gulp of my drink as the room spins. “I’m not going back there.”
“Where isthere,exactly?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I snap. “You and I bothknow Hightide Records is in Saltbloom. I’m not going back there. I’mnevergoing back there.”
“You are,” Enzo deadpans, his expression morphing into one of stone. “You haveto. It’s already set up.”
“No. I’ll do anything else.Anything.”
He shakes his head. “Just… try to look on the bright side. You’ll finally get some peace and quiet—away from the cameras, away from the screaming fans, the drugs, the pressure—and most importantly, it’s a chance to put some distance between you and your horrible, soul-sucking friends.”
“Hey—”
“I’m not done,” he snaps. “This will begoodfor you, Riot. For fuck’s sake, when’s the last time you ate? When’s the last time youslept?”
I cross my arms. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. And I’m stillnot going.”
Enzo sighs. “You have until four o’clock tomorrow to come to terms with it, but you’re going whether you want to or not.”
I look out the window, my eyes tracking a small white gull as it zips between the high-rises, heading straight for the coast.Free. I used to know what that felt like.
When I refuse to say anything, Enzo releases a tired breath and walks back to the drink cart. He pours another drink.
“I’ve booked you a suite at the Extended Stay Driftwood Haven Hotel. It’s right in the heart of Saltbloom, and just a short drive to Hightide Records. More importantly… it’s miles away from your parents' estate.” He turns his head, his dark brown eyes swimming with sympathy—or maybe it’s pity. “You’ll never have to see it, Riot.”
“I’ll know it’s there.”
He brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. “Then try not to think about it.”
I scoff but say nothing else.
Enzo lets out that deep sigh of his. “It’ll only be for a few months. You’ll survive. Hell, maybe you’ll even be inspired and start writing again? You never know.”
I swirl my glass, unable to take my eyes off the small white dot disappearing over the pink-and-gold horizon. “What’s the point?”
“Fortune? Fame? I can keep going, but those two are usually enough for anysaneperson.”
“I’ve always had a few screws loose.” I shrug. “Plus, Rush was always better at that stuff. Everything I’ve tried to write alone since he… I just can’t. It's all flat. Predictable.Boring.”
Enzo pauses, the corners of his eyes crinkling with sympathy. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve always been an amazing musician. With or without Rush.”
