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shes4twnksinatrnchct · 4 months ago

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Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Words: 6k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, fluff, first love, drug and alcohol abuse, reference to sexual situations

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Content***

The Beginning: Part IV

Coley’s in the thick attempt to bury her guilt, her legs entangled around her boyfriend’s hips, her hands in his hair, her lips moving lazily against his from where she’s shelved on Lindsey Cureton’s bathroom counter.

They’d only been here for a total of forty minutes before she was dragging him upstairs to hide once she heard Josh loudly announcing his own arrival–and where there’s Josh, there’s Jake.

At some point, between the rattling boom of the J. Cole song that’s acting as a good guise to hide soft sighs and whispered curses in the thick of making out, his fingers dig into her thighs, his lips pull away from her neck, and Holton thoughtlessly asks, “Do you want to?”

Catching her breath, she winces with the sound of his voice and replies, “You want our first time to be in a bathroom?”

“It’s not about the place, it’s about the person.” He tells her nearly in the same manner, not even bothering to hide his smug smile, leaning down to kiss her again.

She sees Jake in her mind as they carry on, the little buzz from her drinking helping her mind to blur the lines of reality and fiction, right and wrong, as Holton grabs handfuls of her hair to angle her head, his lips trailing down her neck.

When she can’t take anymore of the mental torture she’s inflicting upon herself, she’s asking, “Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah.” He tells her, not bothering to stop his descent along her skin, lips grazing across the skin of her chest before he’s trying to pull her sweater off over her head.

“Holton.” She half-laughs, pathetically discouraged by his oblivious disposition while his mouth meets hers again briefly with the exposure of her in her red bra.

“I’m listening.” He promises, his fingers tugging at the button of her jeans…

“Holton, no, I’m serious. We need to talk.” She struggles to get it out without her voice being crowded with a potential cry pertaining to the subject, her heart heavy in her chest while the grip on her emotions becomes harder to maintain in her borderline tipsy state.

“Okay.” He pulls his hands away from her, brushing hair from her face as he realizes something’s wrong.

Before she can even gather her racing thoughts into as organized of a pile as they can be, her buzzing phone yanks her attention from the confession at hand.

The two of them try to find it, Holton pulling her sweater from the counter to see it’d been hiding underneath it, lighting up and flashing with the name: Josh

“Hello?” Coley answers it, Holton taking a step back, rubbing his forehead and patiently waiting for her to get off the phone.

“Where are you?” Josh asks her, glancing around the crowd as best he can given his drunken state, searching for an abnormally short, mousy-haired girl, unable to find her.

“I’m at Lindsey’s—where are you?” Coley retorts slowly, knowing that he knows where she’s at, furrowing her brows.

“Like, upstairs at Lindsey’s, or outside, or…?” Josh ignores her question.

“Josh, I’m upstairs…with Holton—”

“—Ew!” He wrinkles his nose, and Holton hears it through the phone, his middle finger coming up toward the cell-phone, and she smiles and pushes his hand away. “Get down here. I found tequila.”

“Tequila. At a party. Groundbreaking.” Coley dryly states.

“It is. Now get down here so we can hide and split it.”

The cold mirror radiates through Coley’s hair when she leans her head back against it.

“Okay…where are you? Me and Holton will come to you.” She suggests, placing the phone on speaker as she tugs her shirt back on, Holton giving her an irritated look while she mouths, “Sorry,” to him.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

“Okay, we’ll be there in a second.”

Just a few doors down, Jake has fallen to his own means of distraction in one of the spare bedrooms within the same hallway of Lindsey’s parent-free house.

His brown eyes stare at the ceiling as the girl lying beside him carries on tipsily about her ex boyfriend—how they hooked up last weekend and he told her they were going to get back together, only for him to once more ghost her after they slept together…

Hope notices somewhat that he’s not fully paying attention, but doesn’t take it to heart because it’s not necessarily his responsibility to.

They both know the only reason they’re together is because the people that they do want, don’t want them—bonding over not being good enough for the people they love—or being just good enough that they can make them feel good for a short time before pretending it never happened.

What she doesn’t know is who has him just as hurt as she is, but she also doesn’t bother to ask, either.

“…Guys are douchebags, Hope,” He offers when he realizes she’s stopped speaking, his hand resting on her back as she turns on her stomach and looks at him while propping her head on her hand.

“You’re not.” She offers to him, and he scoffs.

“I have my moments.” It’s mumbled out as he rubs his forehead.

“I don’t believe that.” She shakes her head, finding it nearly impossible to imagine Jake being mean or douchey.

He was decently shy and quiet around people he didn’t know.

He minded his own business, staying out of drama, and although he chased after girls the way a dog does its own tail, none of his relationships or—even situationships—ended badly on his part.

Jake lets out a soft breath and she blinks at him.

“We need to get back downstairs before someone comes in here.” He suggests desperately needing to get out of the room that holds the two of them, sitting up.

While he gets dressed, a misstep nearly lands him in the floor and causes laughter from both him and Hope to fill the room while she fights to fasten her bra from her place sitting on the bed.

In the midst of their time together, he hasn’t noticed his phone vibrating with multiple missed calls and messages from Sam.

When the two of them finally get their clothes back on and attempt to slip from the room as nonchalantly as they can, their timing is off just enough that Coley sees them while the heel of her boot is about to descend the first step of the flight that her boyfriend’s half-way down already.

Jake feels as though he’s been slapped sober, growing nauseous when they lock eyes, seeing that she’s also somewhat roughed up.

Her flat-ironed hair has been tampered with and her pink lip gloss is smeared around her lips.

He hates to think of what they’ve been up to.

“Hey, C.J.” Hope greets her sweetly, smoothing her own red hair down.

Coley returns her kind expression and kindly replies, “Hey, Hope,” while taking note of something potentially embarrassing, politely whispering, “Pssst,” to catch the girl’s attention.

Hope’s eyes fall on her somewhat lost, still trying to gather herself from her time with Jake, and Coley nods at her shirt.

It’s on backwards.

Glancing down, Hope starts giggling while Jake briefly closes his eyes shut as if he’s been caught.

“Oops.” Hope gets out lightly, glancing at Jake in her blissful oblivion to the silent conversation he and Coley are exchanging just through their glares. “I’ll be back in a second.” She adds to him, planting a perfectly timed kiss to his lips.

The blonde next to them looks away, biting into her tongue to keep from making a face at the exchange.

COLEY: I didn't have a problem with Hope. She was always very kind to me.

However, I was unhappy, and lacked the maturity to separate my own feelings for Jake from the fact that Hope was completely detached from whatever the hell was going on between us at the time.

Hope is soon stepping back to the room to fix her shirt while Coley glances at Holton enveloped in conversation with Tucker at the bottom of the stairs—not paying any attention to the fact that his girlfriend and their guitarist is alone.

It’s now that she once again looks at Jake, black-lined blue eyes staring at him when he steals a look at her once Hope is out of sight.

Not a word has been spoken between the two of them since what transpired during the night last night.

This morning she deliberately woke up as early as she could and was waiting in the car by the time Julianne woke up.

They were off to school before Jake even got out of the shower, and she went back home after school to get ready for the party before heading to Holton’s to ride with him.

Jake looks as though he’s about to speak, and Coley quickly avoids it, stepping down the stairs to pat at her boyfriend's shoulders.

Holton looks at her where she’s standing on the second step from the bottom, being cut off from his conversation.

“Can we go back to your place?” She asks him, wanting nothing more than to leave now that she’s got the mental image of Jake with Hope in her head.

“We’ve only been here like an hour.” He says to her, slightly annoyed at the thought of leaving his friends. “What about Josh and Tequila?” Holton questions her, next, trying to find any excuse not to leave yet, and she takes in a breath and leans into his ear, asking, “What about us and your house?” moving out of the way when she hears Jake and Hope pass her by, refusing to look at either of them.

“It’s just down the road, Holton…I’m just really tired and wanna go to bed.” She adds, next. “You can drop me off so I can get my car and then you can come back.”

Her blue eyes try their best to be beggy and pathetic the way her brown-eyed companions can do with theirs so easily to get what they want.

“Alright.” He relents, turning to Tucker and Co. and stating, “I’ll be back,” grabbing his girlfriend’s hand.

On their way to the door, she’s stopped by Sam, his brows pulled down in confusion as she asks, “Have you seen my brothers?”

“Josh is in the kitchen, the other one’s with Holton’s sister somewhere.” She dismissively waves, turning back to keep following her boyfriend before turning her head back to shout, “Tell Josh I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to him!” over the music.

Sam merely gives her a thumbs up and heads to the kitchen to locate Josh while she and Holton get outside and take in the crisp air that’s tainted with the faint smell of weed and cigarettes.

“Where you two off to?!” Hope calls from the group of friends she and Jake are standing with, and Coley rolls her eyes at her inability to escape them.

“The house.” Holton states to her, dragging Coley behind him as he steps closer to them.

“Taking advantage of mom being dead to the world by this time?” Hope inquires next solely to irritate her brother, and he glances at Jake as he says, “Maybe,” solely with the intent of making him jealous.

“Hmm.” She takes in a drag of her joint and blows the smoke directly into his face before piping, “Praying that your poor baby looks like her,” while nodding toward Coley.

Jake looks wildly bothered by the turn of subject, Coley only laughing off the uncomfortable comment that Holton seems less than impressed with.

“Everyday I ask God why mom didn’t swallow you.” He retorts.

“Because he knew someone was gonna have to help you pass tenth grade for the second time.” Hope chirps, and Holton looks at Jake and says, “I’d suggest getting tested. She fucks anyone who gives her 2 seconds of their time.”

“Yeah, your girlfriend’s next if you keep running your mouth.” She says in the same breath, not bothered with his dig at her.

Again, Coley can’t help the giggle that leaves her from the abrupt comment, and Holton turns his head briefly and glares at her.

Jake shifts the conversation by glancing down at Holton’s feet to try to figure out which one’s supposed to be hurt.

“How’s your foot?” Jake asks him, and Holton looks down and clears his throat as Coley’s heartbeat picks up with the question.

“It’s not too bad right now.” Holton casually shrugs.

“Let’s hope it stays that way for the show tomorrow night.” He states, next, looking at the drummer pointedly.

“I’ll be there.” Holton gives him half-assed assurance that doesn’t go over Jake’s head, his words completely disingenuous, as if saying it to get him off of his back.

“You will?” Jake questions, Hope handing the blunt over to him.

“Yeah, Jake, I will. Who the fuck else will if I don’t?” He passively chuckles it out, and Jake keeps his mouth shut to spare an argument…

“...And on that note…” Coley starts, clearing her throat. “…We’ll see you guys later,” it’s now her turn to drag Holton, who leaves his sister with the parting words, “Hate you.”

“Hate you more!” She calls, turning back to face Jake. “He’s so annoying. C.J. can do so much better.”

Jake watches as the two of them walk to Holton’s car, the ginger glancing back at his sister and Jake to lock eyes with the guitarist, offering a petty glare to him before pulling Coley closer to him.

“Yeah…” He starts in agreement with Hope. “…She can.”

JAKE: You won’t be shocked to know I never saw him again after that.

Coley and Holton soon get to his house, and her eyes watch the various bugs circle his porch light while waiting for him to unlock the door, the two of them having driven in silence on the way over here because of Holton’s pouting over his sister’s comments, and her just being in her head about Jake and Hope.

She knows they’ve been talking but didn’t realize they were sleeping together, too.

It surpasses jealousy—truthfully—the feeling that overwhelms her and outright rears its head is near betrayal.

But she can’t blame him, can she? He’s made his feelings known to her for how long, now? And she’s brushed him off, dismissed him and has pretended it’s never been a thing.

Of course he wasn’t going to wait around for her to change her mind, and she can’t fault him for that…at least she shouldn’t.

The two of them step into his house quietly, and he waits by the door for her to go grab her keys from his bedroom when a potentially reckless thought creeps into her mind as his words from Lindsey’s bathroom are echoed through her memory.

Maybe deepening her connection with him will run Jake out of her mind entirely.

It seems to have worked with him and Hope, after all.

“Did you get ‘em?” Holton huffs out, appearing in his doorway while Coley turns to look at him.

“Your mom’s asleep?” She inquires, ignoring his question as she glances at her car keys—a part of her wanting to grab them and go, but she can’t bring herself to.

“Yeah, she is. I gotta get back, Coley, c’mon,” He nods toward the front door, ignoring the way she’s looking at him…that is until she peels her sweater off.

The realization creeps to his face like molasses, boots and her jeans going next.

“You want to, right?” Is her next question, and he’s stepping into the room as if he’s in a trance, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“Yeah, I do.” He tells her, getting his own shoes off before stepping toward her, leaning down to try to kiss her.

She pulls away slightly and whispers out, “Get on the bed.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

COLEY: It didn’t soothe anything, or even distract me.

All I could think about the entire time we were doing that was how badly I wished I would’ve stayed at that party with Jake.

She’s like a zombie when she gets back to the Kiszkas, numb and not remembering driving to their house.

Plucking the spare key from their hiding spot, she gets inside and quietly shuts it, padding upstairs with a soreness between her legs and a shattered heart.

What was supposed to be a genuinely loving and romantic exchange was anything but.

She’s sure Holton feels it was, so long as he didn’t notice how utterly out of it she’d been.

It didn’t work to get Jake out of her head, if anything it only cemented him further into her soul—causing her to feel as though she was cheating on Jake despite the fact that Holton is her boyfriend.

Coley showers and tries to scrub the guilt away that she feels for being such a piece of shit girlfriend.

How the hell did she go from wanting to tell him she kissed Jake last night, to jumping into bed with him?

And to make matters worse, while they were catching their breath and lying in his bed afterwards, he asked her what it was she needed to talk to him about earlier in the night.

She played dumb and pretended as though she’d forgotten, mumbling it wasn’t anything major…

As she’s getting dried off, the bathroom door abruptly opens and she winces at the sound of Josh heaving into the toilet.

Peeking from behind the curtain with her towel wrapped around her, she eyes him, and he looks at her.

“Have you been crying?” Is the first words out of his mouth, her eyes red and puffy.

“I’m sorry I bailed on you.” She says quietly to him, ignoring his question, and he shakes his head, dry heaving.

“Oh, you saved yourself. I promise.” He assures her, another bout of vomit leaving him.

Making sure her towel is secure around her, she steps out of the shower and grabs at his long hair, pulling it back to keep it from getting puke in it.

“Where’s Jake?” She can’t help but ask it once Josh catches a break.

“High as a kite.” Is all he says before getting sick again.

“Here, I got it,” Ronnie says suddenly, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, gently gathering Josh’s hair in her own hands so Coley can go get ready for bed.

“Thanks.” Coley lets out before stepping around them.

“You’re so stupid.” She hears the girl tell her older brother before shutting the bathroom door.

She doesn’t see Sam or Jake and counts it as a blessing as she slips into Veronica’s room.

Julianne is laying in the bed, the two girls having been asleep when everyone seemingly arrived within twenty minutes of each other.

“Did you have fun?” Jules asks her sister in her half-asleep state, and the question brings forth the memories Coley wants to bury.

If their older sister weren’t asleep, she’d call her and expel all of her ill-doing onto her to try to clear her head.

“No.” She says it quietly, and Jules furrows her brows and sits up, turning the lamp on Veronica’s bedside table on.

“What happened?” Her little sister asks, and Coley pulls her clothes on and sniffles, eyes watering and her hands shaking as she wipes her eyes.

“I did a shitty thing.” Coley admits. “And I really don’t wanna talk about it right now…but it’s really bad…”

“…Well, don’t have to talk about it.” Jules assures her. “Look, I can just pretend to be Sherri, and you can cry, and I’ll tell you it’s gonna be alright even if it’s total bullshit and the sky is actually falling.” She adds, patting the bed that’s still warm from where Veronica was laying in it.

Coley does just that, getting into the bed while Jules cuddles up to her the way she’s seen their older sister do when Coley’s having a crisis of some sort.

Across the hall, Sam’s finally getting Jake up the stairs and into their room, his older brother giggling every now and then before starting a thought aloud that he can’t finish.

“I’m never doing this shit again.” Sammy mumbles to himself.

The ride home was hell between Josh getting sick, and Jake going on and on about Coley—burdening Sam with information he never asked for, nor needed, and now has to pretend he doesn’t know about.

~ • ~

The parking lot of White’s Bar is foggy and hazed with cigarette smoke and other smoked substances while the sound of gravel crunches under Coley’s heels as she paces, continuing to check her phone for any sign of her boyfriend responding to her many texts.

He completely ignored her throughout the day, she thought maybe he was sleeping off a hangover since he went back to the party after she left, at least that’s the excuse she gave when he didn’t show for rehearsals earlier in the day.

It’s a kick to her ego, to say the least, for her boyfriend to ignore her the night after they sleep together for the first time.

“...Try pacing more to the left, Coley, so the gravel wears down evenly.” Josh suggests from where he’s sitting on the curb beside Sam.

“Where the hell is he?” She asks, frustrated and anxious, eyeing Jake as he steps away from his mom’s suburban and walks toward them.

As he’s been doing throughout the day, Sam glances at his older brother and then at the blonde, the same tension that’s filled the air between them all day returning, causing Sammy to clear his throat and try his best to ignore the fact they have something happening despite the fact she's dating their drummer.

“He’s not coming.” Jake says to them, and she furrows her brows in confusion.

“Did you talk to him? What did he say?” It’s one of the few things she’s said to him in the last twenty-four hours.

“No. I just know Holton. He’s not coming.” He doesn’t look at her, huffing it out while sitting back down next to Josh.

She couldn’t be any less impressed with his ability to jump to conclusions, rolling her jaw at him.

“Jake. He told me last night he’d be here.” Coley defends Holton, crossing her arms.

“Yeah? Where’s he at?” Jake doesn’t even try to pretend it's okay anymore, having hit a ceiling with the constant unreliability of the drummer. “Because we did say we were gonna get here two hours early to get set up—and we were late so he’s had extra time to get here.”

“He’s probably on the way right now.” Coley assures them, at least wanting to believe as much.

“It’s probably his foot.” Sam mumbles, next, clearly doubting the validity of any excuse.

“What’s wrong with you guys?” She snaps to them, suddenly feeling that it’s the three of them against her boyfriend, and now her, being that she’s taking up for him. “We’re a band, and you’re all assuming the worst of someone—”

“--Face the music, Princess.” Josh blurts, flatly. “Your boyfriend’s full of shit, and we’re about to be here for an actual paid gig without our goddamn drummer.” He adds.

She’s used to Josh being more chipper, more forgiving…Holton has exhausted his grace.

Jake watches while his twin’s words soak into their rhythm guitarist, feeling a pit in his stomach as the disappointment falls over her face.

Softening his expression, he humors her delusions.

“…Maybe he’s just running behind.” He doesn’t believe his own words for even a second, but says it simply to ease Coley’s embarrassment for trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

She gives the hint of a smile to him that Josh ruins as he states, “Maybe I can pull a rabbit outta my ass.”

Coley ignores him this time, deciding perhaps it’s best to go wait with her mom and sister instead of the begrudged group of boys.

“Have you heard from him?” Sherri whispers to Coley as she climbs into the car and shuts the door, Tammy and Karen kicking into another topic while Kelly rests his eyes in the driver's seat of the Kiszka’s suburban that’s parked beside Tammy’s.

“No.” She mumbles, shaking her head.

“Coley, I think you really need to tell the guys the truth.” Sherri softly tells her little sister so nobody else hears, knowing that the position her boyfriend has put her in with lying to her friends is weighing on her along with undeniable fluctuation in his dedication to the band.

They need a drummer to be a band, and it was supposed to be him.

“He’ll get kicked out of the band, Sherri.” Coley whispers. “I can’t…I promised him that I wouldn’t tell them.”

“Coley, he’s already not acting like he wants to be there anymore. He can’t fault Jake or the guys—or you—for wanting to give him the boot. I know you love him, but something’s gotta give, and I think you and the boys have given enough.”

“It’s not that easy, Sher.” Coley tells her, shaking her head.

“It is that easy.” Sherri states, raising her brows. “Things aren’t as complicated as you make them out to be someti—” She’s cut off by Coley piping, “Shh!” When she overhears Karen say, “Oh, here’s Sarah,” answering her phone to speak with Holton’s mom.

Coley holds her breath, her sister sliding her hand into hers to try to comfort her as Karen gives out a disappointed, “Oh…Okay, well, we’re already here–and have the stuff ready to be set up…” Again, she goes quiet while they can hear Sarah’s voice on the other line but not exactly what she says.

Karen looks at her curb of boys and the blonde in the back of Tammy’s car, and sighs out.

“That’s okay. I’m sure they’ll understand…alright, tell him to feel better…yeah, bye-bye.”

Disappointment isn’t even an appropriate word to describe the feeling that boils in Coley’s blood as Karen says, “He wanted his mom to tell us that his foot is still hurting and he doesn’t think he’ll make it.”

A small giggle sprouts from Coley’s throat, slowly but surely forming into a full-fledged laugh.

Tammy turns and looks at her daughter upon recognizing such laughter as anything but humorous.

How stupid are you? Coley thinks to herself, feeling all the more tight in her chest with the thought of everyone being here except Holton—who she has tried to take up for through the night, so sure that he wouldn’t bail on them at the last minute.

But once again he has, leaving her to look completely moronic for believing he wouldn’t.

Her feet and legs tingle with the jitters of needing to walk, so angry that her skin prickles while she frees herself of the confines of the vehicle.

“…I can’t sing and play at the same time, Sam, my mind isn’t wired like that.” Josh tells his little brother who’d just suggested he fill in for Holton since he could play drums before he even started singing. “You wouldn’t even be able to hear me.” He adds, next.

“Debatable.” Sammy sighs, watching from a distance as Coley pulls her phone out of her back pocket to call Holton. “What about Jake? You can be on drums and Jake can sing while he plays?” Sam suggests, next, looking at the twins, who glance at one another without speaking.

JAKE: When Josh and I would get into it during practice, there were often occurrences of him storming out, leaving us with no singer for the remainder of the rehearsal.

I realized fairly quickly I can sound like him—though of course a bit less rounded and not as safe about it because it’s never been natural for me to be abrasively loud the way it is for him.

JOSH: Ah, I suppose if you count him coincidentally shouting in a pitchy high C whilst off-beat then, sure, he can sound somewhat like me if he tries hard enough.

“No.” Jake refutes the idea of being Josh for a night, already earning enough attention just for playing guitar, and even that is difficult to bear, still.

During their first few shows ever, he’d have to be told to face the audience because he couldn’t stand knowing people were watching him perform…he’s not frontman material and has no desire nor the confidence for it the way Josh does.

“What about Coley?” Sam asks, next, and the three boys watch as she finally gets her boyfriend on the phone.

“Hello?” Holton answers hesitantly, knowing his girlfriend is probably less than pleased with him.

“Hey.” She keeps herself calm, eyeing the rocks under her feet while she paces once again.

“Hey.” He says back, a moment of silence passing between them before he adds, “Look, I’m sorry, Coley, alright? I just can’t do it tonight.”

“Holton, what’s going on?” She asks him quietly, her voice shuttering as a freezing breeze blows through her hair, concern lacing her voice while she waits for him to say something.

“Nothing, really, I just…I don’t know, Coley, I have some thinking to do.”

“Thinking? Thinking about what, Holton?” She presses, her tone growing impatient, and he sighs out.

“Just the band, okay? I don't know what to do.” He confesses to her, and she bites into her tongue.

“…Is it possible to think while you’re on your way over here? Tonight is…” She starts and has to let out a deep breath, tears of frustration stinging her eyes as she fights to finish with, “…Look, I know you and Jake don’t get along anymore and maybe you being with us isn’t meant to be a long-term thing, and that’s okay if it’s not—me and you will be fine. It’s just that tonight is a big deal, and it’s really important to us, Holton. It’s really important to me.” She explains to him, glancing at the three guys on the curb, hoping that she won’t have to walk over and tell them that Holton’s not showing. “Just come do this show and then we can all sit down and talk about it tomorrow—but we need you tonight. I need you tonight.”

He weighs his options, not wanting to let his girlfriend down, but genuinely not being struck with excitement by the thought of performing.

“Tell the guys ‘I’m sorry’, Coley. And that once my foot heals up…” Her eyes close, despondency caused by him being no stranger to her by now. “…I’ll be back at practice and I’ll make the next show.”

“Your foot’s not hurt, Holton.” She reminds him flatly as if he’s grown to believe his own lie.

“They don’t know that, alright? Just please, please cover for me this one time.”

This one time.

It’s a lie that he's told more times than Coley can keep up with.

“I love you.” He adds.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t keep doing this to me, Holton. Please, just show up.” She begs him.

There’s too long of a pause, the boy just outright refusing to say anything back to her.

She doesn’t bother with an “I love you” before she hangs up and looks toward the sky to keep her tears at bay not to ruin her mascara, fanning her face as she mumbles to herself, “You’re okay, it’s okay, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

The guys are still watching her, unable to hear her but seeing her talking to herself whilst rapidly moving her hands.

“Is she crying?” Sam asks.

Josh squints in an attempt to see better before screwing his face up and piping, “Yeah…she’s not singing,” as Coley starts coming toward them.

None of them speak a word when she sits beside Sam, feeling as though they’ve all been screwed over…

“You can gloat, now, Josh. He isn’t coming. You were right.” She tells him, her throat aching as she forces back more tears. “But he said he’s sorry…even though he’s not because why would he keep doing this if he was?” Scoffing it out, she draws Jake’s attention.

“Being right all the time blows.” Josh mumbles, rubbing his face.

“Well, what do we do now?” She asks, next, looking at the three of them.

“We call it off, I guess.” Jake mutters, already fed up enough for the night, readying to throw in the towel.

Sammy furrows his brows while looking at his brothers, then at Coley, a beautiful thought coming to mind as he simply says, “Or we call Danny.”

They pause for a moment, looking at him curiously.

“I mean, he fills in during practice right? We can’t we just get him down here?”

Jake nearly kicks himself for not thinking of it sooner.

SAM: I'm not one for singing my own praises, but I think it's fair to say that Greta Van Fleet line-up, as we all know it, is not only the product of Jake's genius and determination, by my quick-thinking and sharp minded nature. And for that, I take full responsibility.

Tammy, Karen and Kelly watch their kids speak amongst themselves with their serious expressions and hand gestures, Karen glancing at Tammy to ask, “…Do you think they already know or do we need to go tell them Holton’s not coming?”

Tammy sees her daughter dot at the corners of her eyes to avoid ruining her makeup, and she replies, “I think they already know.”

“…If Danny comes, and if he does good, can we please come to an agreement that Holton’s out, and Danny’s in?” Sam asks them, next, tired of the constant uncertainty around their current drummer’s ability to maintain consistency in rehearsals and now gigs.

He, Jake, and Josh are very obviously on the same wavelength, agreeing in just their eye contact before the three of them look at Coley.

If this were a conversation an hour ago, she’d be against it completely, going to bat for her boyfriend the best that she could.

But she feels as though he’s taken a match to whatever was left of a relationship with his bandmates, and she can’t blame them for wanting to shake the bad off and bring in something good.

“It’s Jake’s band.” She finally states, swallowing the lump in her throat, and looking at him, solely. “If that’s what you want then I want it, too.” It’s added with a small nod and he gently smiles at her before Josh sighs out, “Oh, thank Fuck, she’s seen the light,” and Sam says, “Alright, great, let’s see if mom can get a hold of Lori and get Danny here.”

DANIEL: Me and my family were in Detroit at the time, but immediately dropped everything to be there. I felt like a kid at Christmas, honestly.

That was really all I wanted was to get to play with them, whether it be practicing, or jamming...I never thought I'd actually get to perform with them, and then everything that followed after that was just incredible.

I still don't think I can thank them enough for everything I've gotten to experience and be a part of as an extension of being in the band and getting to make music with them. And it all started with that one phone call.

JAKE: I think the final nail in the coffin wasn't that Holton bailed, again, and Danny showed up...I think it was the fact that Holton bailed, Danny showed up, and then played the songs better than Holton was ever able to...the crowd really appreciated that, and we really appreciated that.

Perhaps it’s all the alcohol involved in the patrons' good time, or the crowd of middle-agers whose favorite rock bands have come and gone, but the feeling of all of them hooping and hollering by the time the band of kids are finished with their set is a stroke to the ego they each feel, glancing at one another with the rattling of adrenaline shaking through them.

It's quite literally lightening in a bottle, buzzing through them with their ringing ears and huge smiles as they collectively think, This could actually work.

A pair of deep bistre eyes seek out stone blue, sharing an infectious smile between one another.

They both take a mental picture of the other, certainly wanting to cling to this memory.

Any bitterness or hard-feelings are momentarily alleviated while basking in the glory of applause.

A swell of giddy pride overtakes her at how genuinely ecstatic he is, purely scintillating under the whistles and cheers and bar lights.

No longer is Jake the shy kid who wouldn’t even face the crowd at their first shows—standing now like someone whose outstretched hand is on the cusp of reaching the only thing he wants out of this life, getting to do so with his brothers and her by his side.

The first place all of them head after their set is complete, and the bar begins to empty due to closing, is the bathroom.

All four boys are practically shaking with excitement, chattering over one another so incoherently that Coley can't understand half of what they say as she follows them, appearing to be on her way to the ladies room.

She has an ulterior motive, however, watching Jake's wide grin as he slows his pace to look up at Danny and say something that he can't necessarily remember when he glances behind Danny to see Coley looking at him as she steps some feet behind them.

He falls behind the group of guys who walk into the men's room, the door shutting as he waits for her to get to him, about to ask her if something's wrong given the expression on her face, except he's unable to think of anything when she gets to him, her lips finding his, his arms finding her waist, and her back finding the wall of the narrow hallway while they do the one thing they've wanted to do ever since it happened for the first time two nights prior.

COLEY: Who knows, maybe if our old drummer had taken any of it seriously he would've been able to keep up...I vouch the same for our relationship, too.

@edgeofdarkness @lizzys-sunflower @zooweemama555

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xtruss · 1 year ago

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Wilson worker Lindsey Kiene cuts leaf-shaped panels that are tapered at both ends. These will be sewn together to make the iconic oblong shape of the football, a key feature that reduces the ball’s wake and drag.

Step Inside The Factory Where The NFL’s Footballs 🏈 🏈 🏈 Are Made

Few Have Seen Inside Wilson’s Facility where Dozens of Expert Craftspeople Meticulously Put Together a Product Whose Design Hasn’t Changed For About a Century.

— By Terry Ward | Photographs By Christopher Payne | February 9, 2024

What’s more American than cheering as your football team sends a long bomb tightly spiraling toward its end zone target? It’s a tradition that stretches back to the late 19th century.

While today’s “pigskin” is no longer made with the pig’s bladder of football’s late-1800s origins (all pro and collegiate footballs are now constructed from cowhide leather with synthetic rubber interiors), the shape and dimensions of the NFL football have remained the same for roughly 100 years.

Sewn Footballs are sent down this conveyor to the lacing department at the Wilson factory in Ada, Ohio.

Leather arrives every week from the Horween Leather Company in Chicago. The leather is stamped to give it a pebbly feel, and tiny W’s are embossed on the leather to ensure authenticity.

NFL and NFC names are stamped in foil on leather panels before being sewn together.

That the design from a century ago still perfectly suits the needs of today’s sport is a kind of “historical accident,” says Dr. Rabindra Mehta, chief of the experimental aero-physics branch at NASA Ames Research Center. “Compared to a baseball, a football is a more aerodynamic shape by design.”

Footballs are made from four individual panels of leather, leaf shaped and tapered at both ends, which are sewn together inside out. Next, the leather is steamed so that it becomes soft enough to turn right side out. An air bladder is then inserted and the football is laced together by hand.

A football’s shape is not actually a ball in the spherical sense of the word, but a prolate spheroid: oblong, with pointed ends that make it easier to grip. This shape and the way air flows around it helps the football to travel great distances.

The panels move to the stitchers, like Stephen Brownlow here, who sew the panels into halves and then sew the halves together with heavy brown polyester thread to make an inside-out football. Sewing them inside out makes the seam invisible and more durable.

Characteristics of the football’s surface–including the pebbling of the leather, the stitching of the panels, and the laces themselves–also allow airflow to stay attached longer and minimize drag, compared to something spherical like a baseball ⚾️.

Picture a baseball traveling right, with air traveling past, moving left—this would be what’s called laminar flow, where air travels in a regular, smooth path. In a controlled environment (like a wind tunnel) the airflow would go straight left until it meets the ball, where it bends around until it reaches the “far side” of the ball (this point is called the “apex”). Then the air returns to traveling straight left, past the ball, without touching that far side of the ball 🏀 ⚽️ .

When this happens, there’s a pressure difference between the front and back of the sphere which results in drag, the force that slows the ball down as it’s flying through the air. Golf ball manufacturers tackle this on spherical golf balls by dimpling the ball’s surface to help airflow stay attached longer, reducing drag, therefore letting the ball fly farther.

Keaton Miller, a turner, has the strenuous task of turning the ball right side out. To make the job easier, they use a steam box to loosen the leather and a pneumatic hammer to make the pointed ends more pliable before it is reversed forcibly by hand on a metal pole.

Left: The turner finishes by rolling the seams on the pole to flatten them out. An experienced turner can do this in about 30 seconds.

Right: These Wilson GST balls, the official ball of over 180 NCAA programs and 54 high school football state associations, are ready for lacing.

The thin layer of air on the ball’s surface is called a boundary layer, and a turbulent boundary layer creates turbulent flow—where a football’s design shines. Air meeting a football, with its textured surface and curved shape, would flow around the ball, staying attached longer to its surface than it can on a baseball’s. If the air is flowing left (and the ball is moving right) the air will move up, left, and down along the football’s bowed surface.

While the air may not hug a football’s curves all the way across, airflow does remain attached past its apex, resulting in a minimal wake and less drag. On a baseball, the air only makes a connection on half the ball, creating more of a wake and drag.

Drag can be “challenging to predict, particularly in odd-shaped objects like a football,” says Anette (Peko) Hosoi, Pappalardo professor of mechanical engineering at MIT. Drag depends on the shape of the wake, which, in a football, can vary depending on such factors as its orientation through the air, the velocity at which its thrown, and surface roughness.

Left: Nicole Tedrow, a lacer, inserts a polypropylene bladder into the ball and pushes a nipple through a small hole so the ball can be inflated. The lacers use an awl to pull the laces through the holes and close up the football.

Right: The final step is molding. Nearly completed footballs are placed inside a pressurized chamber that molds them to the correct, uniform shape, removing any residual lumps, crinkles, or rough edges, and inflates them to their correct pressure at 12.5 – 13.5 Psi.

Density of the surrounding air–a function of air temperature–also affects the boundary layer of a football and in turn its aerodynamics, Hosoi says.

“Warm air is less dense than cold air. If the air is less dense, there is less drag, so footballs may fly further on warmer days,” she says, adding that the phenomenon has been well documented in baseball, which clocks more home runs during hot and humid weather than the contrary.

A tight, spiraled throw wobbling not at all is indeed a thing of beauty, no matter the weather around it.

”The axis of the spin is aligned with the direction the ball will go,” says Mehta, likening it to the way a bullet flies. ”That’s what the quarterbacks are really good at doing.”

Left: These are the actual footballs that will be used in Super Bowl LVIII. The official balls are waiting to be stamped with the winning team logos pending the outcome of the AFC and NFC Championships, and shipped out early so the teams will be able to practice with them.

Right: These cut brass dies were used to emboss the Super Bowl LV logo in 2020.

#Photography #NFL’s Footballs 🏈 🏈 🏈#Inside Factory #Wilson’s Facility #Expert #Craftspeople #Meticulous Craftsmanship #Unchanged #Terry Ward

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