Chapter 31
31
JORDAN
T he ride from New York City to Philadelphia clocks in at just over an hour and a half — if traffic isn’t too bad — making it the shortest trip on the tour.
And, after last night, it’s also turning into the quietest trip as well.
I sit alone at the table near the front with my planner sitting out in front of me. Everyone else, Chrissy and August included, lie scattered around. Bodies curled up in blankets. Heads crushed on shoulders. Near silent save the occasional yawn or whispered word.
It’s kinda nice, actually.
Taking a thick sip of coffee from my faded golden travel mug, I continue making my way through the countless messages in my inbox following last night’s show.
Is Christian Myers joining Criminal Records for the rest of the tour?
What can you tell us about the other members of Cobraville?
Should we expect appearances from them as well?
I answer them to the best of my ability, copying and pasting form responses most of the time, not wanting to commit to any one story. It’s a dance; one I’ve tweaked to perfection over the years.
A new message pops up in my inbox, the sender’s name making me pause.
Paul Monroe.
I click it open, too damn curious not to.
I hope you enjoyed your accommodations, Jordan. There’s plenty more where that came from. Just say the word.
I take a breath, picturing that beautiful city skyline one more time before tapping DELETE.
“Never thought I’d see the day.”
I flinch, startled by Christian’s sudden presence standing over the table. He lowers onto the seat across from me, his head bobbing into the back.
“Criminal Records,” he says. “Utterly destroyed by a New York all-nighter?”
“Two New York all-nighters,” I say, laughing. “We’re not as young as we used to be.”
“Don’t remind me,” he says, sitting back, his own eyes clinging to whatever youth they can. “Also... Knox? With a girlfriend? On tour?”
“It’s true.”
“Knox is locked down, Addison’s smitten with the opening act, and Jonah’s getting married,” he rattles off in quiet disbelief. “Next, you’ll be telling me Katrina’s hooking up with Bronson.”
I nearly choke. “Oh, no,” I say, laughing it off. “I highly doubt they’ve ever...” I shake my head. “No. They’re not hooking up.”
Christian’s gaze lingers on me across the table. “How about you?”
“I’m not hooking up with her, either.”
He laughs. “Thank you for that pleasant visual imagery, but I wasn’t talking about her.”
“Oh,” I say, willing myself to remain casual. “You meant Bronson.”
His eyes stray toward the back, where Bronson’s no doubt still passed out in his bunk. “You two seem pretty close.”
You’re a good friend, Jordan.
“We are, but we’re just friends.”
Christian lets those words linger for a moment. “Is there anyone special in your life lately?” he asks. “On tour or back home in Vegas?”
“No,” I answer with a squeak. “There’s no one special.”
“Really?” Christian asks, surprised.
“I’m usually far too busy for anything like that.” I shrug. “Comes with the job. But I don’t mind. I like to keep myself busy. It’s good to be focused, you know?”
“I used to think that, too. Back in the day, I was laser-focused on making Cobraville the best it could be. Didn’t eat. Barely slept. I only cared about the music.” Christian cants his head. “That almost killed me, so I don’t generally recommend it.”
I breathe a soft laugh as he does.
“Taking breaks is important,” he adds. “You gotta learn when to slow down, or else your body will break down. And, believe me, you don’t want that.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ve... been learning that lately myself.”
Christian sits back again, his smile touching his eyes as he gazes into mine.
For a moment, he does nothing, and my mind runs a little wild. Suddenly, I’m sixteen years old. I’m rushing from my biology class deep in the western wing of the high school, trying to get to my math class all the way up on the third floor. I have to stop by my locker first to exchange textbooks. As I go, I look at the photo of Christian Myers stuck against the door with magnets and blow it a kiss.
“You’ve done well, Jordan,” he says.
I blink and I’m back on the tour bus once again. “Thanks,” I say.
He glances into the back. “They’re lucky to have you.”
I smile. “We’re lucky to have each other.”
He nods at that, his mouth opening to reply. Before he can, someone plunks onto the bench next to me and he stops, smiling as Chrissy groans in my ear.
“Are we there yet?” she asks.
I chuckle and toss my arm over her shoulders. “Almost,” I say, recognizing a few Pennsylvanian landmarks outside.
“We get a day off, right?” she asks. “Please tell me we get a day off.”
“You can have a day off whenever you want,” I say.
“Really?”
I shrug. “You don’t work for me. Or Midnite Music anymore, technically.”
Chrissy beams. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. I’m a free agent.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can do whatever I want!”
“Just be at the show tomorrow night,” I add. “I like the help.”
“Of course.” Chrissy kisses my cheek, then looks across the table at Christian. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, you,” he repeats.
“Whatcha talking about?”
“Burnout.”
Chrissy scoffs before plunking her head down on the table and closing her eyes.
As I run a few fingers through her black hair, I look into the back of the bus. A few others are awake now, chatting amongst themselves and raiding the kitchenette for snacks.
Bronson, too. He’s sitting on a bench with a bag of chips, his mouth quirked with a smile as he listens to Knox and Jonah bantering over something stupid, I’m sure.
I let my gaze linger a little longer, hoping that he looks over at me so that I can… drop my pen.
He doesn’t.