Picture Perfect

wasn’t.
    My photo shoots with the rest of the band had ranged from fun (Gavin), to scary (Tyson) to sad (Cole), and each of them had taken the time to tell me that they were worried about Flynn, which made me feel horrible.
    I’d asked management to have the guys take me to their favorite places for their photo shoots. On Monday, Gavin had taken me to Zuma beach to take pictures of him surfing. Gavin was known for being incredibly intense, but I found him to be extremely calm and very thoughtful. During our time at the beach he told me that he’d gotten into surfing a few years ago as a way to channel his demons. I don’t know his story, but the surfing definitely has him calm. He calls surfing his moments of Zen, and it’s very clear that it’s working.
    Gavin was a fairly quiet guy, but at the end of the day he’d asked me if he could speak freely. After I nodded, he said, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Flynn, but he went from being the happiest I’ve ever seen him to acting like he’s a funeral director. I don’t expect you to tell me anything, but I’m telling you- I’ve never seen him hurting before, but he is now. Whatever you’re doing… please, think it through. You seem nice and I can’t imagine you being cruel on purpose, but you’re hurting him. I just thought you should know that.”
    I’d tried to assure him that I wasn’t doing anything to Flynn, but the look he gave me indicated that he thought I was full of shit.
    Tuesday I’d gone out with Tyson, and he had taken me flying in his small plane. It had been one thing to be on the ground taking photos, but being in the air in the tiny plane had me almost in full vapor lock. He talked to me about Flynn after I finished taking pictures while we were in the air. His logic seemed to be that I was a captive audience and he had things to say.
    “I don’t know you, but what I do know is that my friend went from being happier than I’ve ever seen him to being a fucking robot. I personally think he should kick your ass to the curb because you’re making him fucking miserable, but when I said that to him he almost beat my face in. Your timing fucking sucks and I think it’s selfish as shit that you’re doing whatever it is that you are to him right now. Do you even care that he can barely make it through a rehearsal because he’s so out of it that he can’t remember the fuckin’ words to our songs? I’m not saying Flynn’s a fucking saint, but I know him well enough to know that if he could fix whatever it is that’s broken, he would. The fact that he can’t do that tells me that the problem is you. My suggestion is to get your head out of your ass or leave him the fuck alone. I’m sorry because I know that’s blunt, but believe me, life is too fucking short for bullshit and drama, and where my friends are concerned, I speak my mind. He deserves better than to be some bitch’s emotional punching bag. I admit that I don’t know if you’re a bitch or not, but right now, I really don’t give a shit. All I see is that you’re hurting my friend.”
    So much for Leah’s assertion that Gavin was the scary one and Tyson was the beautiful one. Tyson was beautiful, but he was also too blunt for comfort. It was clear that he took his friendships very seriously, and he felt strongly about speaking up. I could respect that, even though I felt attacked.
    “Tyson, I don’t know where you got this impression of me but I’m not… I’m not doing anything to him, I promise you that. I’m not jerking him around and I’m not trying to make him miserable. It’s breaking my heart that he’s so disconnected, but I’m not making any headway in bringing him back. I’m not going to stop trying to get him back to normal. If you believe nothing else that I say, believe this; I feel very strong about Flynn and I don’t see him as my emotional punching bag. I would never do that to him.”
    Other than saying goodbye and telling me he assumed that he would see me on tour, Tyson didn’t say another word.
    As awkward as that was, being with Cole was worse. He’d taken me to a dive bar in the neighborhood that he and Flynn had grown up in. Management had arranged it so that we were the only people in the bar, and Cole had gotten onto the tiny stage where Renegade Saints had played for the first time and began to strum out a song. He explained that he’d chosen the bar as his favorite place because it was a reminder of a