Chapter 34 Zara
Chapter Thirty-Four
ZARA
Violet
Can you send me your schedule for the int. leg of the tour?
Me
Sure, why?
Violet
I’m your sister. Do I have to give you a reason?
Me
No, but you could also just Google it.
Violet
Yes, but then I would get to have this titillating conversation.
Me
Did you just say titillating?
Violet
I know words!
Me
LOL. Anyway, why do you need tour dates?
Violet
I’m going to be in Europe, and I want to see if any of the dates overlap.
Me
Oh, fun! Girls’ trip! If only we could get Mom to join us.
Viole
I still can’t believe you got her to that concert.
Me
She had the BEST time. Seriously, I don’t think she ever stopped smiling.
Violet
I know. I have the hundred or so blurry photos she sent to prove it.
Me
We should make her a blurry photo album for Christmas.
Violet
She would love that.
Me
Oh shit. Gotta go. Someone just came into the clinic. LOVE YOU!
I pocket my phone and look up to find not just someone.
But two someones.
Elena and Zander, who are covered in…blood? His black Metallica tee is sticky with sweat, but there also seems to be blood dripping from his nose, and his lip is split.
And that’s just what I notice at first glance.
“What the hell?” I start moving quickly, slapping on a pair of gloves and pointing to the portable exam table. “Get him up here.”
“It looks worse than it is,” he says, even as Elena mutters, “He’s an idiot.”
“Why do I feel like you’re not the only one I’m going to be patching up tonight?” I raise a questioning eyebrow.
“I better be,” Zander growls.
Elena pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she tells me. “The other guy was sent packing. I’m sure he’ll seek medical treatment elsewhere.”
“Fucking better.” Another growl. Or maybe it was more like a grunt.
“Am I missing something?”
Elena licks her lips and takes a calming breath. “I’d explain, but I fear that would just rile him up all over again. Let’s just say that a crew member was overheard saying some inappropriate thing about—”
“Inappropriate?” He fumes. “What he said wasn’t just inappropriate, Elena. It was inexcusable. No one talks about my wife like that. Ever.”
Her gaze softens, and she runs her hand through his tangled hair. I turn away to gather supplies, giving them a moment.
As I unlock the rolling carts, I think about his words, and it reminds me of that night at the gala when I stood there clutching my shoulder as the man glared at me, waiting for an apology.
It’s not even that Tanner didn’t stand up for me that bothers me the most. It’s that he’d worn down my self-confidence so much that I thought I didn’t deserve it in the first place. Regardless of who caused the encounter, I embarrassed him, and that was unacceptable.
That’s why I apologized.
Elena doesn’t need Zander to fight her battles, but she knows he would—without question—if she asked him to.
That is love.
That is what I want.
Maybe I already do.
“Come on, killer,” I tease. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
It turns out that whoever pissed off Zander not only gave him a bloody nose and a split lip, but also managed to give him a nasty gash on his left arm.
“How the hell?” I ask when I see it.
“Ring,” he mutters under his breath. “Ugly-ass ring.”
“Well, thanks to that ugly-ass ring, you’re gonna need a few stitches,” I tell him, causing him to groan and then mutter a few expletives. “Now, either I can do them or, if you’re worried about scarring, I can see if we can find you a plastic—”
“Just do it,” they say in unison.
All righty then. Wish I could say this is my first time giving stitches backstage, but I’d be lying. This group is a rowdy bunch.
“What is the weirdest thing that you’ve had to deal with on tour? In general, since I know you can’t talk specifics.” Elena inquires as I start gathering the suture kit and lidocaine. She pulls up a chair and sits next to her husband.
“To be honest, I thought I would be doing a lot of STD testing, but surprisingly, everyone is pretty responsible when it comes to safe sex.”
“That’s Asher,” Zander explains. “Since Mitch, he really started running a tight ship.”
“I noticed.”
“Asher and the original members all grew up together. Cutting ties with Mitch was tough on them. I think Asher felt responsible because he didn’t see the shit Mitch was getting into until it was too late, and he had gone too far.”
“That’s not his fault.”
“It’s not,” he agrees. “But he still makes it his mission to keep tabs on everyone to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“That’s nice. It’s like a family.”
“We are a family, and you’re part of it, you know?”
I hum a noncommittal response because I don’t really know how to reply.
Do I want to be part of their family? Yes.
But Hendrix and I haven’t talked about what happens after the tour ends at all.
It’s exactly what Elena warned me not to do—get swept up in the tour and avoid real life.
But here we both are, avoiding the what happens next talk like the plague.
“And, uh, to answer your question…” I awkwardly segue. “I’d have to say this takes the cake.” Elena snorts as I start to clean the wound. “Sorry, Zander.”
We keep talking as I inject the lidocaine, then begin stitching him up once it takes effect.
I ask about their time off last week. They say they chose to stay at home and barely left the house, just enjoying the peace and quiet.
When I’m nearly finished, Elena asks about our trip to Seattle, and I almost falter.
They don’t know about Hendrix’s trip to the clinic.
They don’t know about the blood tests or the MRI, the ones that came back normal.
They don’t know that each time we get a normal result, Hendrix’s attitude improves exponentially.
While mine plummets as I wait for the phone to ring again.
“Good,” I manage to say. “It was really fun. I’ve never been to Seattle, so we hit all the touristy places. I saw them toss the fish at Pike Place.”
“I’ve never seen that,” Elena says. “They really throw them?”
“They do! It’s impressive.” I give his arm a gentle tap. “You’re all set.”
He inspects the stitches. “Nice. Thanks.”
“You need to keep it covered, so maybe stick to a T-shirt on stage for the next few days.”
“Good idea,” Elena says. “The internet would go crazy trying to figure out what happened to you.”
“Definitely don’t need that kind of attention.”
“Is it hard?” I suddenly ask. “The attention. The constant invasion of privacy?”
Elena presses her lips together as she glances over at Zander.
They must have some sort of silent conversation about who’s gonna field my question.
Zander must win. “Yes. It’s hard. It can feel isolating not being able to do normal, everyday things like go to the grocery store or take my family on a vacation without a security detail.
” He sighs, and I feel a bit guilty for asking, but I have to know.
After being out with Hendrix last week and experiencing only a fraction of the attention Zander gets, I need to understand what it’s like.
Because if we eventually have that what happens next talk, and there’s a future for us, I want to know I can handle it.
No matter what it might end up being.
“But on the other hand, how many people get to live this life? I know musicians who have worked their whole lives and never got a tenth of the success I’ve been lucky enough to have. I was never one of those guys who wanted the fame and fortune. That was always Hendrix’s dream.”
I feel my stomach knot, but I know he’s right. Since the moment I met him, there is nothing Hendrix has wanted more in this world than to perform.
To play music in front of a massive crowd.
To live out his dreams through his love of music.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
When I pull it out, my heart stops. Eric’s name flashes across the screen.
“I, uh…I’ve got to take this.”
“Sure.” Elena nods, a crease forming between her brow as she watches my mood shift. “We’ll get out of your way. Thanks for taking care of him.”
“No problem,” I manage to say.
As I answer, I swallow down the lump in my throat, knowing this may be the call that ruins everything.