Chapter Fourteen #2
Join the Flat Tires on the back half of the Lost Highway Tour! The band will play 15 shows in 12 cities with a final show in Los Angeles on June 3. Limited tickets are still available for select shows, but they’re going fast. Click here to see availability.
At any earlier point in his life, River would have said he didn’t have time to miss someone while he was on tour.
Tours were filled with interviews and shows and post-show parties and travel and the kind of exhaustion that meant you slept whenever you had a few minutes to yourself.
Sound check and wardrobe and networking with other famous people; every minute of his day was scheduled.
Usually he had just enough time to miss his own bed.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that he missed the man who was usually next to him in it. It did, though, and Eric and Ward gave him endless shit. “Now you know what it’s like!”
In River’s opinion, they could enjoy it a little less.
The time difference didn’t help. He and Jem kept up as best they could with daily video chats and texts, but on show nights, they only had a few minutes between Jem finishing work and River getting ready.
After a show, River was wired and not a great conversationalist; everything came out all at once and he barely let Jem get a word in edgewise, even though River desperately wanted to hear about kindergarten shenanigans.
“God, sorry. You’d think I’d be used to the adrenaline rush by now,” he said as he was winding down on the second Friday of the tour. “Tell me about your day. What’s the buzz around the water cooler these days?”
Jem snorted. “Oh sure. ‘Hey, I just delivered a concert to ten thousand people, several of whom have my name or face tattooed on their bodies. Tell me about the gossip in the teacher’s lounge.’” On River’s phone screen, he shook his head. “How am I supposed to follow that?”
He didn’t seem upset about it; there was no rancor in his tone. But he didn’t seem to realize River’s interest was genuine either. “Come on. I’m invested in what everyone brought to Frank’s Easter dinner.”
“Well, Cathy bungled the deviled eggs, so that’s all everyone’s been talking about. Aside from my love life, obviously.”
River didn’t bother to resist the smile, just put his chin in his hand and batted his eyelashes. “Aww, are we the prime topic of conversation? Scandalous.”
“Jason did a dramatic reading of that latest article,” Jem said wryly. “Tori applauded.”
“Did she get a video for me?”
Jem gave an exaggerated pout. “I thought I was the only one you wanted video of.”
River brightened. “Are you offering?” So far he’d had no luck on that front.
Understandably, Jem was paranoid about pornographic images of himself being leaked online, since that would derail his kindergarten teacher career.
Amanda probably would’ve said River could care more about the possibility himself, but it wasn’t likely to hurt his image.
He knew several people who’d had “accidental” leaks on purpose. So.
“Still no,” Jem said. He sounded vaguely apologetic. “You’ll just have to wait for the real thing.”
Now it was River’s turn to be dramatic. “Fine. But it’s a good thing school will be out by the time this tour’s over. I’m not letting you out of bed for a week.”
That was as long as his brain would let him focus on a conversation. His body was still thrumming with adrenaline, and he needed to burn it off before he could do anything productive, like interact with people in a meaningful way, or sleep.
Post-concert, he never needed Grace to motivate him to exercise.
Eric and Ward were already in the hotel gym, pacing away on their treadmills. River took the elliptical machine and gave them a half wave, then stuck his headphones in and closed his eyes.
The playlist was key to the process. He had to concentrate on matching his rhythm to the beat, or he’d work too fast and make the whole adrenaline thing worse. The idea was to get his brain and body to slow down, not amp up.
Then he and the boys sat in the hot tub for ten minutes, because they were old men now and they needed to be able to move without pain tomorrow.
They never did any of this when they were younger, of course. It was all after-parties and dancing and drugs and sex and whatever else they thought touring musicians did after a successful show.
And then they’d each taken their turns almost destroying their lives with substance abuse or meaningless sex—River and Eric once dumped a bucket of cold water over Ward’s head when he’d partaken of too much something to make good choices—and done their stints in rehab, and now they were old and boring, but at least they were still alive and mostly healthy, and they had their families.
The gym routine worked well enough that River managed to doze off just before three in the morning and even fell back asleep twice when his body tried to lie to him about time zones.
Finally the lack of Jem in the bed offended him enough that he rolled out of it and wiped his eyes. Seven hours of broken sleep. It could be worse.
He ordered breakfast from the room service menu, lamenting that he couldn’t spoil Jem with the house-made waffles with organic fruit and whatever mascarpone was, and had just taken a bite that made him want to weep with joy when his phone chirped.
He was hoping for something from Jem—it was early enough in California that school wouldn’t have started yet—but it turned out to be Amanda, with a screenshot of his TikTok account, the engagement section circled.
Officially TikTok famous, she said. Told you.
River opened TikTok and navigated to his inbox. Then he closed it again, because that was too many messages to deal with.
Great, he said. Now what?
Now I post the next song, dummy. Enjoy your tour. We can talk solo strategy when you’re back.
New Wheels for the Flat Tires?
Posted in r/music/flattires/
May 8
Okay, I need someone to tell me I’m crazy.
I’ve been reading all the coverage of the Flat Tires tour leading up to the concert I can finally make it to (the second show in Atlanta). I’ve watched so much video. And I’m so hyped, because Ward, Eric, and River are putting out performances like I’ve never seen before, night after night.
It’s not like I don’t know they’re all insanely talented, but it seems like there’s something more in every show.
They did ‘Buzzards’ in Cleveland. They haven’t played that live in ten years.
It seems like they’re pulling out one of the older less-played songs at the end of every show, and they’ve never done the same one twice.
I’ve been a Flat Tires fan for over a decade, and I can’t remember them ever doing something like this before.
It’s great to see, but I can’t help but wonder why they’re doing it.
It has to mean something, right? What do you think?
Maybe they’re going to rerecord some of their older stuff for a new album? A guy can hope, right?
“And you’re totally sure you want to do this,” Tori asked for the fortieth time.
“Oh my God.” Jem pulled her into a tight hug. “I am going to be fine.”
“Who said I was worried about you?” she countered, voice muffled by his shoulder. “If Ivy goes into labor while you’re gone, I am going to panic.”
“Oh, so the truth comes out.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “She’s not due for more than a month, Tori. Deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine.”
Groaning, she finally pulled away. “Says the guy who doesn’t get sent on eleven PM creamsicle runs.”
“That’s literally what DoorDash is for.” He took a step back and adjusted his garment bag on his shoulder. “Enjoy your last few weeks of quiet while you can. I’ll be back Monday night.”
School had let out on Wednesday. Honestly, Jem was almost glad River was on tour, because he hadn’t had anything to keep him from report cards. Well, anything other than his stubborn will to live.
And now it was Friday morning and Tori and Jem were at the airport so Jem could fly to South Carolina for Andrew’s wedding.
Life came at you fast.
“Go on, get out of here,” he encouraged. “You know how much worse traffic’s going to be if you wait.”
“Ugh, I hate that you’re right. And also that I’m the friend who will drive your ass to the airport.”
As if Jem wasn’t the one returning the favor every time she and Ivy went on vacation. “I’ll get a cab home,” he promised. “Now go!”
It had been almost a decade since Jem had been on a plane, but the routine was familiar enough after years of “family” vacations with Andrew and his parents.
Jem found his seat, settled in, and slipped his noise-canceling headphones over his ears.
He was working his way through the Discworld catalog on audiobook, as a way to distract himself.
With school done for the year and River out of town and Tori and Ivy preparing for their new addition, he’d been at loose ends.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t need to get another job to keep solvent through the summer. He wasn’t any more used to having time off than he was to having disposable income.
If this kept up, he’d have to start saving for retirement.
Reaper Man got him all the way to Charleston and through baggage claim before his headphones died. He pulled them down around his neck, took out his phone to call a cab, and then—
“Jem!”
—his mom showed up.
Jem hadn’t seen his mother in person since his college graduation.
Given how strained things between them became after the whole “you’ve actually known your father all your life” reveal, it probably wasn’t surprising.
He still kept in touch with phone calls, texts, and emails, but not with frequency or regularity.
Since he started seeing River, he’d deliberately avoided talking to her as much as possible.
But now—Jem hadn’t exactly walked a mile in her shoes, but he had the same blisters.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, throat dry, and then she swept him into a hug.