Chapter VI

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Ryan was pacing back and forth in front of the payphone closest to his house. It was on a fairly busy street and most of the passersby were shooting him strange looks, which said a lot for New York. He'd just finished paying his landlord the remaining amount of money he'd earned off of the tips from two nights ago, and it had almost been enough to square up his debt. He'd only kept enough pocket change to make this phone call, and he was really hoping not to get a voicemail. He'd abandoned his cell at home, not having been able to pay the phone bill.

Now, the question was who to call. He had been up all night going back and forth. Jon or Brendon. It really didn't seem like he could have both. He held one of the quarters in his fist, seriously wondering if he should just flip a coin and let it decide which path to take. That was stupid though; he knew what made the most sense to him. This thing with Jon could be organic. He could build it from the ground up and play his own songs. If he took the record deal, he'd become a puppet for the industry. He was aware that money was one of the only pros on that side of the argument, but it was a big enough pro to be making him have a crisis over the decision. 

He let out a frustrated screech and shoved one of the business cards back into his pocket, putting the money into the phone and entering the number on the other one. The phone rang twice, and he started breathing more shallowly. The third ring sounded and he stopped breathing altogether. By the time Jon picked up on the fifth ring, Ryan could taste bile in his throat. "Hello?" Jon's voice sounded rough, and Ryan was pretty sure he'd still been asleep, even though it was well into the afternoon. 

Ryan finally let out the air in his lungs and relaxed the tiniest amount. "Hey, it's Ryan. Probably not cool to call you the next day, but I was hoping you'd be up for playing together today. Or even just hanging out. If you're not up for that." He cut off his ramblings trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

"Oh, hey, yeah man, that'd be great." Jon gave him his address and told him to come over in an hour or so. Ryan ran back to his apartment as quickly as his feet and tight pants would allow. Jon's address was on the other side of town, and he'd have to take a cab to get there. He really hadn't planned on that. He silently cursed himself for not keeping at least some pocket change, but the landlord had been really angry about how behind he was, and he'd been far too distracted by actually making the call to think about what would happen after that. 

He grabbed his guitar case and ran back out of the flat, only spending a maximum of ten seconds actually inside of the building. He dodged past people on the sidewalk, managing to only whack a few people with the instrument. By the time he sat down on his usual, busy corner, he was fully panting and couldn't catch his breath. He was once again annoyed at how out of shape he was. While he sat, cross-legged, trying to find enough air to sing, his fingers shifted between a few different songs on the strings. He started off with some of his usuals, but by the time he was humming along, trying to remember the words, he realised he was playing one of The Flying Rabbits' songs he'd heard the previous night. 

A young girl stopped to listen to him, her mother continuing to walk along without noticing. She smiled at Ryan and started to sing the words, which she clearly knew much better than him. He'd had the melody stuck in his head ever since the show, but the only words he could remember were the chorus. He joined her in singing.

Took some time and tried everything to forget

Seeing you is the feeling of a tongue being bit

My soul has been put on display for all to see

You need to finally let go and let it be

They were pretty macabre lyrics for this girl to know, but Ryan smiled at her nonetheless. Her mom finally realised she'd been left behind, and marched back to drag her away. Ryan watched them go as he continued to play the song without words. When he looked over into his open guitar case, he saw he'd already made fifty dollars and his eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed people approaching him. He made a mental note to learn the rest of that song since it was clearly a crowd-pleaser. He pocketed the money and put his guitar back in the case, being impressed with how it had been such an easy task to make enough.

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