Chapter 21
Tai
There’s a strange rhythm to being on the road. The sights, sounds, and smells constantly change, and freedom clashes with the hectic schedule. It creates a strange paradox of endless downtime that somehow never feels like enough. Even on our third tour, it doesn’t feel normal.
On our early tours, the cramped bus meant constant battles for the bathroom and a spot to sleep.
Now it’s private jets and luxury hotels, and professional photographers contorting themselves in the front row to capture the perfect shot.
The crowds feel endless—it’s impossible to tell where it ends and the rest of the world begins.
The camera flashes that follow us have become a part of our daily routine.
Paparazzi doggedly hunt us down, no matter how low-key we try to be.
The attention was stressful at first, but over time it has turned into more of an annoyance than anything else.
My one saving grace is that I remain in the background.
They’re interested in Eric and Dmitri’s wedding, or Theo’s viral video of beating up his ex. No one notices the quiet keyboardist in the back of the group—the one with no drama and no personal life to exploit. In this very public existence, I cherish the fact that my life remains largely my own.
Our performances in Chicago, Dallas, and San Francisco go off without a hitch, and I’m endlessly entertained by the distinct vibes in each city’s audience. Even at a rock concert, there are an insane number of cowboy hats peppering the crowd in Texas.
In between shows, Monica schedules virtual interviews. The five of us pack into one of our hotel rooms and huddle around a phone, answering questions before we have to load up and move on to the next location.
My mind is silenced by the whirlwind of activity until the excitement finally winds down and it’s time for rest. Evenings are spent with music blasting in my already-ringing ears or furiously jotting down the lines that run through my head on repeat.
Songwriting has never been my strength, but now the urge surges inside me, desperate for an outlet.
If I don’t find a way to channel this creativity, it will drive me insane.
Turbulence makes the plane bounce, and jolts me from my thoughts. “Sorry about that,” Jenn’s voice rings over the intercom. “There’s a patch of rough air while we approach our destination. We land in D.C. soon.”
We left this morning, but the time difference means we’ll touch down in the early evening. The long summer days mean we’ll still have daylight when we land.
Our descent is jostled by a few patches of heavy clouds, but we push through to find ourselves welcomed back to the east coast by clear blue skies and bright sunlight. Once we land, I stand up and stretch, stiff from sitting so long.
“I’m so hungry!” Theo complains from behind me, and my stomach growls in agreement.
“Dinner plans?” Eric asks.
Dante nods. “Monica booked a private room at a local place. She’s meeting us there along with the security team so that everyone gets acquainted before we’re shoved on the plane together.”
“I forgive you for not hiring an errand boy, since you’re giving me bodyguards,” Theo says, fluttering his lashes.
Dante rolls his eyes. “They aren’t just for you—”
The airplane door opens and cuts him off when a squeal has the group turning with a shared smile. Monica charges onto the plane, wrapping each of us in one of her famous bear hugs.
“You guys have been killing this tour! I’m so proud of you all.”
“We couldn’t do it without you,” Dante says, returning her hug. “I didn’t expect to see you until we got to the restaurant.”
“I wanted to surprise my boys.” She waves for us to follow her as she steps through the door. Outside, a sleek black stretch limo awaits, drawing excited whoops from Theo and Eric as they rush over to check it out.
“Aren’t we trying to be low-key?” I ask as I raise my brow.
Monica laughs brightly and waves me off. “Given the amount of high-profile activity in D.C., I figured we could spoil ourselves a little without drawing too much attention. Indulge a little before the twelve hour flight.”
“Get in, assholes!” Eric shouts from inside the limo.
“There are snacks!” Theo calls out, sounding suspiciously like his mouth is already full.
Dmitri and Dante both sigh at their partners, and I grin as we climb inside. The limo has soft white leather seats that are far more elegant than anything I’ve ever sat on, while the stocked bar and snacks have already captured Theo’s full attention.
Excited chatter fills the limo on the way to the restaurant.
Monica spouts off a never-ending stream of questions, even though we talk to her every day.
From the start, we knew she was the perfect choice for our agent.
Not only does she fiercely represent the band, she also blends seamlessly with our unique dynamic.
We arrive at the restaurant after a short drive. It’s a local place with a brick exterior and white smoke billowing from an enormous outdoor oven. Despite the trail mix and beef jerky I snacked on in the limo, my stomach growls loudly from the smoked meat and spices in the air.
The hostess leads us to a private room. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” Monica tells the server.
He can’t be a day over twenty and is painfully shy as he takes our drink orders.
When he returns with a few baskets of warm bread, the group pounces like starving wolves.
The poor guy looks star-struck as he watches Eric stuff piece after piece into his mouth.
I huff a quiet laugh, and he shoots a wide-eyed glance in my direction before quickly looking away.
“Hey,” I say, peeking at his nametag. “Jordan?”
He nods rapidly and leans in a little closer. “Do you need something? I can get you anything.”
I shake my head, offering what I hope is a reassuring smile. “You can relax, man. We’re just a bunch of idiots.”
He laughs, but the sound comes out strangled. “I’ve listened to you guys for years. It’s just… weird, you know? Seeing you as real people?”
Both our eyes drift to where Eric and Theo are fighting over the last piece of bread.
“Like I said,” I reply, my voice dry as I watch Eric snatch it and cheer, running away from an indignant Theo.
“Idiots. Although, you may save yourself the trouble and just load the table up with bread. They’ll eat it all. ”
He laughs again, easier this time, then nods and wanders off.
He keeps staring over his shoulder as he walks, and I pretend not to notice when he awkwardly bumps into the doorframe.
I make my way toward Monica, intending to discuss the possibility of gifting the server tickets to tomorrow’s show, when a sudden commotion breaks out behind me.
“Security team is here,” Dante calls as he steps outside to greet them.
I scoff softly and lean against the wall, staring out the window. The idea of adding more people to my mandatory daily interactions feels exhausting, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Dante’s voice reaches my ears as he welcomes the newcomers, accompanied by a soft squeal from Theo. Deeper voices join the conversation, and I bring my hand to my temple, rubbing at the headache that threatens to emerge.
“Let me introduce you guys to the band,” Dante says.
I sigh, bracing myself to socialize. They make their rounds, speaking to Monica first, then Eric and Dmitri, finally closing in on me.
“This is Tai Hiyama, our keyboardist and backup singer.” I square my shoulders and turn to find Dante standing beside two large men. “Tai, meet Bruce and Aaron.”
Bruce is bald with a thick goatee, and looks mean as hell. Aaron has dirty blonde curls pulled into a bun and a baby face that contradicts his imposing size.
“Nice to meet you,” Aaron says, and Bruce nods with a scowl still in place. Movement behind them catches my attention, and as Aaron steps aside, my throat squeezes closed.
“Connor?” I breathe.
Familiar hazel eyes land on mine, widening in shock. I take a step backward, and when my back crashes against the wall, his hand flies out toward me. My heart riots, uncertain whether to thunder inside my chest or simply give up, while my eyes stay fixed on his.
Dante looks confused as he rests a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “No, this is Jugs.”