1.
When he leaves everyone behind in Genoa City, he realizes that the time away changes him.
He's the same person. He's grown his hair out, made sure not to screw around with school and he's actually pulling in B+ grades across most the board. There's that one solid A in the musical classes. Berklee School of Music is interested in him while UCLA's Herb Alpert School of Music and the Madison campus over at University of Wisconsin gives him the option of being close to home.
Then there's actual life.
His actual life that changes itself so many times, Reed doesn't quite know how to get back to the original version of it. It's like he relives the same days over and over on the off-chance that something might change. Just in case, his dad isn't dead and isn't erased from the planet like the name Jeffrey Todd Hellstrom never exists.
There's everything he knows before his dad's memorial and then everything afterwards.
Nobody really sleeps. He's sure Mom doesn't. He knows that because Billy stays over. Sure, for Johnny and Katie and it's always nice having him around. He seems to get closer to Mom these days, not that it's none of his business anymore. Billy's a cool stepfather and Reed doesn't mind it. Then again, Reed barely understands what it's like to have two parents in one home. Then again, one parent gets physical with the other and holy shit, how does he not know? Reed's in bed but not really. He's not asleep, not drumming up nightmares of what the alternative could be.
One thing he learns about leaving Genoa City is the idea that it's easy to look back.
Does he always know? Does Reed know on some deep seeded level that something is wrong? Does he know that Dad and Mac are crumbling when Becca is the new baby in the house? His dad is shorter than usual, gets distant when he tells him stories about his teenage days. He knows of his dad's accident and without it, his dad would be a cop or a detective. He knows Reed gets his dad makes mistakes but holy shit, he can't quite understand it. Reed sees this guy who cares about his opinion, corrects him even though he annoyed by it, and a guy that should have a long, healthy and happy life. When he promises revenge for his dad's murder – because that's what it is when a man in his 40s disappears and turns up dead even with no body for Reed to look at or bury – he means it. But all he has now is this searing anger in his stomach, heaviness in his chest and this pounding in his head that doesn't seem to stop.
If he's up all night, he might as well be productive. It's a side effect of this new maturity he's trying out and he isn't hating it. It doesn't mean Reed doesn't want to be angry, run, break things more than just the face of his father framed in time. The same hands Reed watches hold a guitar balanced on his dad's knee are the same ones that hurt, he's sure. He's sure it's the reason this suffocating tension becomes another entity in the house until Reed makes the decision to pack a bag, hop out of his bedroom window in biting winter just before Christmas. He's on edge and finds refuge with one friend or another, discovers that alcohol is like morphine for the misunderstood and cigarettes calm him.
Reed remembers watching Dad's fingers pluck out chords he himself try to discover or at the very least mimic. He stands back in awe as his father plays the guitar with smooth finesse Reed himself will strive to get even if his fingers bleed. He hears his dad sing of lost love, of a girl who stays young, beautiful and perfect, and two names etched in dark mahogany wood with the heavy musk of coffee in the air. Colleen. Traci's daughter, Reed recalls from the stories of his father's teenage days.
As the tension stretches itself under the walls of this house he grows up in, Reed recalls unfinished lines. Lyrics absentmindedly written in the corners of Dad's work files during the morning blitz to wherever. Reed can't recall the lines now. Especially now in the dead of night and especially now if the idea of who JT Hellstrom is – was, of course it's past tense now because his father is dead – shaken up and broken into many pieces Reed can't fathom putting them back together. Then again, should he? DJ is probably young enough to hear everything but old enough to understand the bare minimum. Becca is too little to know and understand anything and for that, Reed is thankful. But he doesn't know what he will tell them about him and it's the downside of being a big brother. A half-step from being a parent but a little cooler than being one himself.
Reed lies on his back in the dark aside from the streetlights on outside. A neighbour's dog howls.
He reaches out on his side, removing his Samsung Galaxy 9 from its charger and he squints across the backlight that illuminates his phone.
2:46am.
"Shit," he curses, feeling the pressure of his bladder more acutely.
He understands two things tonight: he's not sleeping tonight because this need to make whatever sense he can of Dad will consume him if he tries, and he really needs to pee.
—
Somewhere between peeing and getting back to his room to do…whatever, Reed decides he better do something productive. His school work is mostly online and Reed gets the news that not only are his overall grades strong and he passes his exams better than he expected. He has enough credits to finish in April, before graduating in June. He's only notified that he's on the Dean's List, Berklee School of Music, NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, the Madison School of Music and the Herb Alpert School of Music in UCLA all offer him early conditional offers. Reed stares at his school e-mail inbox, reads all four offers over to make sure it's actually true and this is happening. Holy shit.
Reed has conditional offers from four colleges. He remembers being nervous and how much work he puts into his audition tape and how his stomach turns for weeks. Of course, Reed knows he wants to do music for the rest of his life. Chase the dream that crumbles and slips between his fingers because one of circumstance or another – Dad doesn't say much on that, but on some level, it has to do some wicked shit to his head. Reed is actually on his way there. He's standing on a weird four-way crossroads and he's the one in control. He can choose Boston, go over to New York, cross country to Los Angeles or stay home and make the hour and a half drive to Madison from Genoa City.
Wrapped up in the stuff with his dad's murder and nearly killing his grandmother, Reed has no idea something like this is happening to him. That it can happen to him. But he's here and he's happy. Best good news in a while because it feels like one question in his life is answered and settled. It's not because now he has to choose and make a decision. The music business is not easy, he knows, and is aware.
He's not a naïve kid. It's not a phase. He wants this.
It's the only thing he's certain of when he's unsure of everything else.
—
Yeah, it's easier to put yourself out there because the technology's changed but if you're sure you want it and you're hungry, then you'll be fine, Dad says and bumps his fist. You're off to a better start than I was.
Mom is the one who doesn't, for once, shield him for trying the music thing as a long-term career. It's like she makes peace with her first born not being a lawyer, or an engineer or especially carrying on the family legacy at Newman Enterprises. It's not all bad. She still has Johnny and Katie for that, but Reed knows it's not path to ending being a corporate drone in a really scary, messed up machine. The vibe at Newman Tower feels more like Game of Thrones all the time if Reed has to be honest.
You have no idea how badly I want you here, but I want you to be fulfilled, Mom says seriously as they sit at Crimson Lights for one of the final times before he transfers to school. The No Tears Rule is in effect until he gets to the airport. She inhales, quietly sniffling before smiling at him. I know, I know. No tears. I got it. I was just remembering when you were a baby. You're my first-born. My boy but you're going to be an adult. You have your own mind, your own thoughts and feelings. I'm sorry you feel frustrated where your father is concerned, but it's comforting to know that you have a solid foundation in music and you're going to work hard. The entertainment business is like the corporate one. Ruthless people who will stab anyone in the front.
Jeez, Mom, he says, noticing a glimmer in her eyes he never sees until now. You make it sound like a post-apocalyptic wasteland where survival matters over everything else.
She shrugs. It could be. When you're a Newman, it means everything. Just make sure that you're second to no one and that if you want to thrive in music long-term, find ways to make yourself known. Don't let anyone ever silence you or push you aside. You're a Newman. You don't take crap from anyone.
Reed watches his mom sip her tea, put it down and touch her throat but she doesn't know she's doing it. She doesn't know he's watching her do it and he isn't going to ask. He pulls his gaze away from her movements and focuses on his coffee. He raises his eyes to meet hers and says he understands where she's coming from. Reed can't understand why the smallest shudder twists itself around the column of his spine.
She plasters a smile on her face but it fails to reach her eyes.
That will stay with Reed forever. Her advice. The way something is happening with her or does already and he's completely unaware. It tugs at some darkened space of his mind and leaves him with a slight ache in his chest long after she hugs him, kisses him on the cheek and heads out for Newman.
—
It's easy to get music out there because he does have covers out there and with his performances at the Underground archived there, people know him. People ask for more covers. He performs at the Summer Bash show case by his guidance counsellor this summer in Maine. His guidance counselor, Jared, set it up so Reed can see the logistics of how music festivals and performances and be on stage for exposure. The weather in Maine is cloudy, and the three days are a blur – he may or may not hook up with a female drummer with a shock of electric blue hair and almond shaped eyes that are a weird green colours. He only remembers her name is Josie because her band is after his solo performance and they spend the first day of the festival hanging out.
He exhales, combing his bedhead with his fingers and gets to working on his English assignment. It's due in a month but he might as well start it now and it's not hard. His assignment is just to add a musical twist to the play he is assigned by random draw.
Hamlet.
Of course. Of all the plays Shakespeare writes.
Hamlet.
Reed closes the lid of his laptop down and grabs his black leather song writing journal with the folded in pages, the different coloured handwriting in the margins to tell the difference between bridge, verses and chorus. He plops down into bed, clutching his journal with his musical thoughts, and feelings only understood by black and white ivory keys underneath his fingertips and taut guitar strings being plucked by ready fingers. Reed clicks on his lamp on his night table, illuminating his decently kept room in a soft light. There are Post It Notes of song titles, a list of things to do and he sees the last thing on the list. The one thing that is like a force pulling him toward Genoa City even when life goes on in New Hampshire.
Go home. Find out what happens to Dad (he was murdered).
He angrily flips to one of the last fresh blank pages and writes:
Understand what happens to Mom (she was abused).
Apologize for being a huge dick.