Seven
TATUM HOLLOWS
Did I make a mistake not believing Win?
I keep asking myself that question. His whole demeanor changed after he signed the papers.
I’ve never seen such hurt in his eyes, not even when he lost the football championship our senior year.
He had a lot riding on that game for a music scholarship to the state college, but his life didn’t turn out too bad.
I sit down in the living room area since it has benches along the wall like a sofa. My phone starts ringing and it’s Ivy. I can’t deal with her right now. I find a pillow and curl up with it in the fetal position as I cry and then fall asleep.
I feel someone shaking my shoulder, saying my name. I open my eyes to see Christopher standing over me. “You okay? You were crying in your sleep. The guys were worried but afraid to wake you.”
“I’m fine.” I sob and he pulls me into his arms.
“Let it out.” His voice is soothing and so calming. He is the big brother I never knew I wanted. “It’s all going to be okay in time.”
“No, it won’t.” I pout, pushing him away from me. “What the hell do I do now?”
“Give him some time. It will all work out in the end.” Could Chris be right? Did Win tell him? “Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll be back for a late lunch with you?” I sniffle.
“I can’t. I need to be at every soundcheck, interview, concert, and even the after-parties.” I walk into the bathroom to wash my face. I take a deep breath before coming out. Chris isn’t there anymore, but Win is standing there.
“Sorry. I thought you were gone.” He seems nervous.
“I’m just getting ready to head in there for the soundcheck.
I’ll be out of your way soon.” I fumble around in the back for my camera bag and notebook.
I make sure to have an all-access badge on me so I can get in without the guys.
I leave the bus and start taking pictures of the outside, as well as the Colosseum where their name is displayed.
As I see the fans waiting there, I decide to talk to them for a little bit.
They tell me all about their love for the guys, how their songs touched their lives, tattoos that match the guys.
I saw a lot of men with the same tattoos too.
I knew the women loved them, but I see men in shirts, tattoos, and trying to look like the guys.
I thank them for their time and snap some pictures.
I recorded some of the interviews to add to the blog.
“Looking good out there, huh?” I turn toward the voice behind me to find Roger, the band’s manager. Roger and I clashed a lot. I never noticed how much Roger and Win look alike. “I heard you were coming on tour with us.”
“Yep.” This guy gives me the creeps. I don’t trust him and made sure Win knew that too.
“Good seeing you.” Roger holds the door open for me. As I walk into the arena, I hear people talking, carts rolling around, and someone hollering my name. I turn to see it’s Macy, Nick’s wife. We run toward each other, laughing as we hug.
“When Nicky called me, I couldn’t get here fast enough.
I can’t believe you’re here. And when Win told me he wants you back, I squealed.
I need you on tour with us. I can’t be the only woman.
” I sniffle as I tell her everything. “Wait. You think he would do that?” Macy’s shock over this is like mine when I first saw the video.
I pull out my phone to show her the video.
“That’s not Win. The girl looks like Trixie, that floozy that married Roger. ”
“What?” I’m so confused. I look behind Macy and see the band laughing at a joke Aaron told them. My heart aches to be in Win’s arms. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I mutter. Macy looks over her shoulder to see where I’m staring. “I need to go take pictures.”
“I’ll come with you.” We walk into the arena and it takes me back to the time we were here for this battle royale thing that launched their career. I remember when Win first came off that stage.
“Baby, you sounded great!” I hug Win as he picks me up swinging me around. “The crowd wants more and they’re still calling for you.”
“I know. I couldn’t do it without you.” Win kisses me.
I sigh out loud. “Memories have a way of bringing out the love that you’ve buried,” Macy tells me and I half-smile.
“I better go do my job,” I tell her as I walk towards the stage.
I stop every so often to take pictures of it empty before the concert tonight.
The guys start playing their instruments while Win is warming up his voice.
He always sings a Bon Jovi song because they are my favorite band.
They begin by playing Thank You for Loving Me.
I stop what I’m doing to watch. Win closes his eyes as he belts out the love ballad.
He sways, holding on to the microphone stand.
Once the song ends, Win catches my eyes.
We stare at each other as I’m wiping the tears.
I love him. I believe him. Why did I waste so much time hating him? How can I fix this?
I hear giggling coming from behind me. I turn my head to see this black-haired woman from the back hugging someone.
The tattoos look like the ones from the video, but Win is on stage going over some of their hit songs.
I take out my phone to snap a picture zooming in on the tattoos.
The guys are heading off the stage and walking towards me.
I stop Win. “Can I talk to you?” He stares straight ahead of me.
“Please look at me. I need to show you something.” Win looks through me, so I put the cell phone in his hand.
“I’ve seen the video. I don’t need to see it again.” He tries to push it away.
“Just look at the fucking phone, will you?” I snap at him.
“So what? It’s the same people from the video. I don’t need to see this again.” Win starts to walk away from me.
“It was Roger,” I yell it at him, and everyone stops what they’re doing. Win turns around to face me.
“What?”
“I just took that picture while you were doing soundcheck. Scroll to the next picture. It’s the tattoos from the video.” I swallow hard.
“Great. I’m exonerated.” Win’s tone is flat.
“I was coming in here to tell you that I don’t want a divorce. I love you too much. I’m going to fight for you. For us,” I yell at him.
“So, you find out that I didn’t fuck someone, now you want to fight for us?” he questions as he walks closer to me. “I don’t want to be a consolation prize.”
“I’m not picking you because of Roger. I was coming in here long before I saw them together.”
“Why don’t I believe you? I’m sorry, Tate, but I need some time alone right now. You do your work thing and I’ll be respectful to you.” I nod with my eyes stinging, trying not to cry.
“I need to interview you. Is it okay if we talk while we go for lunch?” The Colosseum has a catered lunch in the backstage area for the band and crew.
“Fire away,” he tells me after I ask him if I could record the answers.
“These are some questions from the fans outside and from the readers of the magazine. Where do you find inspiration for your songs?” I ask.
“In everyday life, there’s beauty and heartache everywhere. It could be a failed relationship, conversation with a friend, taking a walk to a park or the mall to people watch. Everyone and anything inspires you if you just know how to look.”
“You said on the radio show that you’re getting back in the studio, after two successful albums and three years on tour. Why stop touring to record?” We stop walking when we get backstage.
“Touring is a lot of fun and we love being able to spend time with our fans who have become like family. They’re our biggest supporters and we owe them for being the best that Winston Sellars can be.
Touring is exhausting when you’ve done it for so long, so we need to be refreshed.
We don’t want our concerts to become stale.
Our music is important to us and we need to concentrate on being the best.”
“Do you ever feel like this is all too much for you and the band?”
“No. Music is like breathing. If we didn’t have it, then I wouldn’t know how to live,” he tells me.
“I remember the nights we’d stay up writing together.
I’d be working on an article for some freelance newspaper or magazine and you’d be strumming the guitar or playing the piano.
” Win doesn’t even say anything, but I can tell the way his eyes go sad that he’s missing that time too.
He opens the door for me. “Can we finish this later?”
“Sure.” He smiles and it even seems genuine.