11. Jackson
11
jackson
We’ve been on the road for a couple of weeks, and it feels like a breath of fresh air every time we stop to stretch our legs or get out to play a show. I’ve been driving for a few hours now, and exit after exit, mile after fucking mile, it’s all starting to look the same. I’m over it. I’m trying not to think about the fact that I still have an hour and a half left in my shift. My fingers reach for the dial, and I change the radio station, desperate to get away from the same used car lot ad I’ve heard at least six times. Unfortunately, there’s no Bluetooth in the van. I’m not even sure this thing has an AUX-in socket.
If the guys were at least talking, it might not be so bad, but everyone is doing their own thing. Marty has headphones on while he bobs along to a song no one else can hear. Brady is asleep in the back, his open mouth on display in the rearview mirror. Dave sits next to me, but he’s been staring at his phone with a look of determination for the past hour, and I know better than to interrupt that look. It’s the look he gets when he’s emailing contacts, researching venues, contacting studios. That look means he’s almost in overload, and all it takes is a pebble in his shoe to make him explode .
I’d rather not be the pebble.
So instead, I sort through the crackle of country music stations and static until I end up back at the same fucking ad I was trying to escape. I don’t even know if it’s the same station or if Rip’s Reliable Rides can afford to haunt me from every angle.
There’s a loud clunk, and I sit up straight. My eyes immediately jump to the rearview mirror, checking to see if I ran over something, but the road behind me is clear.
“The fuck?” Dave mutters as he lifts his head and does a similar scan.
“I have no idea wh?—”
The sound happens again, this time jolting Brady awake.
“Pull over,” Dave says, pointing to the shoulder.
But before I can even put my foot on the break, it feels like the wheels lock. The steering and brakes are less responsive, and we end up skidding. I pump the brakes, hoping they fucking work, until we eventually slide to a stop on the side of the road just as the car behind us lays on their horn and swerves into the other lane to avoid slamming into us.
Marty rips his headphones from his ears and frantically looks around.
“Jesus Christ,” Brady mutters from the back, and I nod, my heart pounding.
Dave pinches the bridge of his nose, his head falling forward.
“What the hell, Jackson?” Marty yells from behind me, and I swear I could hit him with the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.
“I didn’t do anything!” I yell back. “If anything, I just saved your ass.”
My eyes jump to Dave for some type of defense, but the beat of silence it takes for him to say something feels like an eternity. Eventually, he mutters, “The oil. ”
“What?” Brady asks.
Dave lifts his gaze but avoids looking at any of us. He stares straight out the windshield while he lets his head fall back against the seat. “I forgot to change the oil.”
“You . . .” Brady shakes his head. “You forgot to change the oil?”
Dave says nothing, just closes his eyes like he wants to disappear, and it’s all the confirmation I need.
“Fuck,” I groan as I rub a hand over my face.
Brady leans forward. “How the hell did you forget to change the oil?”
Dave snaps, “Because I’m doing everything!”
“Well, clearly you fucking can’t!” Brady says with an exasperated outstretched arm.
“I can fix it!” Dave says, avoiding our wide-eyed stares and getting out of the van. He pops the hood, blocking his view of the three of us.
“Fuck this,” Brady mutters under his breath as he opens the door and gets out. I’ve never seen him like this. Hell, I’ve never even seen him mad. He leaves the van door open, so I can still hear him when he says, “What are you going to do? We need to talk about this before you go and make it worse!”
I can’t see Dave, but I can hear him when he says, “Fuck off, Brady, it’s fine.”
There’s no way I’m staying in this van alone with Marty. Getting out of the car, I ask, “What’s wrong with it?” Even though I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Brady crosses his arms, still glaring at Dave. “He’s got too much on his plate. Now the fucking engine seized up.”
I raise my eyebrows. Equally unsure of how to handle Brady when he’s like this.
“This never would have happened if we had a manager,” he continues. He points at Dave. “You know it. I know it.” Looking at me, he says, “Hell, even he knows it. ”
There’s no way he’s dragging me into this. “Why don’t we just focus on fixing the van?”
Dave has been glowering at the engine, but after letting out a frustrated, “Fuck!” he starts pacing.
Brady watches him with narrowed eyes. “You can’t fix it. You’d be better off laying it to rest,” he growls under his breath.
“Wait.” I hold up both hands while my brain catches up. “It can’t be fixed?” My eyes jump between the two guys in front of me. Dave runs both hands over his hair, smoothing it back while he looks like he’s about to self-combust from panic, and Brady just looks like he wants to break something.
Marty finally walks up, but for once, he keeps his loud mouth shut. I wonder if he’s ever seen Brady this mad or if he’s just as shocked as I am.
Brady scoffs. “No. It can’t be fixed.”
Dave shoots him a glare but says nothing.
Running a hand over my head, I take a look at the engine like I might actually understand what any of it means. “So, we need a manager and something to tour in.”
I can feel Dave’s glare pierce through me, but I keep my eyes focused on the engine.
Marty finally catches up. “A manager?”
Ignoring him, Brady keeps his attention on Dave. “What about the guy from the festival?”
“What guy?” Dave grits, looking back at the engine. I’m pretty sure he has no idea what he’s looking at either, but I don’t blame him for not wanting to face Brady right now.
The look on Brady’s face tells me that was definitely the wrong answer. “The one who wanted to manage us,” he says through gritted teeth like it’s taking everything in him not to strangle our lead singer. “The one you turned down, and the one who gave you his card and said to reach out if we ever changed our minds. ”
Lost, I shake my head. “There was a guy who wanted to manage us? Why the hell didn’t I know about this?”
They all look at me with a flash of guilt, like the thought of clueing the puppy in on this decision had never occurred to them.
Dave’s shoulders drop. “Listen, I’m sorry. You were off with Margot, and we weren’t open to the idea, anyway. I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Some of us were open to the idea,” Brady mutters, but Dave ignores him.
“Call him,” I say, my voice coming out more resolute than I feel. They should have told me. I’m pissed they didn’t fucking tell me, but right now, none of it matters. What matters is we’re a band, headed for a gig, and we suddenly have no way to get there.
Dave blinks. “What?”
“Call him,” I say again. “If he can find us a new van, tell him he can have the job. Maybe he can pull some strings.”
Brady nods, finally looking more like himself. “I still have his number.”
Marty takes a sip from his energy drink, not sharing an opinion one way or another.
I half expect Dave to turn on me, but he doesn’t look nearly as angry as he did a few minutes ago. He’s just staring at me with slumped shoulders and a set jaw, like he’s torn between standing his ground and knowing it’s a lost cause. He probably wants more of an explanation, but all I give him is a slight lift of my eyebrows.
Wiping a hand over his face, he shakes his head. “All right, fine. I’ll call him.”
Brady gapes at Dave, and even Marty has stopped drinking. “You’re serious?” Brady asks. “That’s all it takes? I’ve been trying to get you to call that guy for weeks!”
Dave rubs the back of his neck, and I know he feels like an idiot right now. This is completely his fault, and usually nothing is his fault. Usually, we can blame everything on Marty.
“Yeah. Well, it looks like we don’t have a choice.” He shakes his head. “Let’s just see what he says.”
I pull out my phone, and Dave asks, “What are you doing?”
Glancing up at him, I say, “Looking for another van in case he doesn’t pull through.”
Because of all the things that could ruin this opportunity for us, I sure as hell won’t let Dave and his ego be the reason we fail.