51. Jackson
51
jackson
It’s been a few days since Margot called, but we’ve texted. We’re back into our normal routine for the most part, but it’s almost impossible to read through her messages to know how she’s feeling. She hasn’t brought up the pictures again, and neither have I because I don’t want her to dwell on it.
Mya at least removed the tag, so our band’s social media is free of it. I guess she and Tarah ended up going their separate ways later that night. They didn’t even exchange numbers.
Completely insignificant.
Maybe Margot can see that now. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t brought it up again.
We had back-to-back shows over the weekend, and then yesterday we were on the road all day. I wanted to call her then, but there’s no privacy when we’re moving. I’ll have to wait until we pull off somewhere and have some down time where I can sit outside and try to figure out what she’s actually feeling.
Pulling out my phone, I check our messages to see where we left off. She texted me goodnight around eleven, but we haven’t talked yet today. I scroll up, skimming over our back and forth the past few days. Something feels off about it. Her responses are less playful—less . . . Margot. I can’t tell what she needs from me. Does she need me to let this go or should I make her talk about it? If I could fucking see her, I’d know. But like this? I can’t tell if she’s busy and quietly trying to move on from what happened, or if she’s dwelling on it and withdrawing in on herself.
Fuck, it’s probably the second.
My thumb hovers over the screen as I try to figure out what to say, but then Mya plops down on the couch next to me. “Did you tell Margot about the next tour?”
Dropping my phone on the couch, I rub my hand over my face before my fingers find the strings of my guitar again. I’ll have to confront her about this later. “Not yet.”
She tilts her head and gives me a funny look. Mya doesn’t know about my last conversation with Margot. All she knows is that I asked her to remove those pictures. Her reaction was to mutter something about Tarah’s ability to make something out of nothing, and then she joked about how not kissing me apparently gave more bragging rights than feeling Mya up in the corner of the bar. “You haven’t?”
I shake my head and keep playing. I’m not sure I want to disclose my situation with Margot. If I’ve learned anything about Mya, it’s that she meddles, and her advice usually fucks with my head.
She turns sideways on the couch and rests her chin on her knees. “But aren’t you excited?”
I nod. “Very.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, and I do my best to ignore it. “But you think she won’t be?”
My fingers pause, hovering over the strings. “I think she’ll have mixed feelings about it.” I know Margot will be happy for me, but I also know she isn’t thrilled about my life on tour right now. Plus, as exciting as the tour is, it’s still cutting my time with her over the holidays. Even if those pictures with Tarah never happened, Margot still would have been disappointed to some extent.
She frowns. “Trouble in paradise?”
I get back to playing. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The words come out with the force of a slammed door, so I quickly add, “How’s the new merchandise coming along?”
There’s a slight pause like she’s debating pushing the topic further. I’m relieved when she settles on saying, “Good. Want to see?”
I nod and Mya moves closer, holding up her tablet to show me a new design for American Thieves. With one glance, I can tell she’s changing up the vibe. Everything about the design looks vintage. The coloring has a faded hue, and the retro font and record player icon look like they could be something out of the seventies.
She grimaces. “You hate it, don’t you?”
I blink and shake my head. “Not at all.” Setting down my guitar, I reach for the tablet so I can get a better look. “Why such a big change?”
She takes a breath like she’s rehearsed this pitch before. “Well, most of our merch gets sold to women. I have a few designs in there with the old font and logo—with some minor adjustments, of course. The guys can still buy that stuff if they’d like, but I think a lot of them will go for the newer designs, too. Anyway, women are our main demographic, and a lot of old styles are coming back in a big way. I think they’d eat this shit up.”
I huff a laugh. “I mean, I think it’s cool.”
“Yeah?” She smiles and there’s a hint of relief behind it.
“Have you showed it to the guys?”
Mya reaches for her tablet. “Before you? No way.” She closes the file and opens another one. This one has the same retro feel but it’s a dripping cassette tape. “What about this one?”
I nod. “I might like that one even more.”
She grins. “Thanks, Lover Boy.”
The nickname hits different this time, but I give her a tight-lipped smile. “Anything else?”
She swipes again. “Well, I had to bring back the floral print, but I made some slight modifications. These will be unique for the tour. Special edition.”
“Right,” I say with a light laugh, but my heart isn’t in it.
Mya glances at me before getting back to work on her tablet. She moves a few things around and flips between different designs. Some look complete while others still look more like ideas than actual merchandise. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” She gives me a sideways glance but continues to keep herself busy.
I scratch the side of my head. “I wish I could tell you.”
This time she looks over at me. “You could try.”
I should keep my mouth shut, but the way she’s looking at me gets past every barrier. It’s because she cares. Her advice might be terrible, and she might stick her nose in things she shouldn’t, but she does it because she genuinely cares and wants to help. That fact alone has my defenses waning.
“It’s more of a gut feeling.” I shrug. “I think something is off with her.”
“With Margot?”
I nod. “You know, she didn’t want to date me.”
“Smart girl.”
I nudge her with my shoulder, and she laughs. “She said I wouldn’t want to be tied down while I was on tour. She figured I’d be too tempted.”
Mya nods. “Valid concern.” I shoot her a look, and she adds, “I’m not saying you’d do anything, but look in the mirror, babe. You might not be able to get every girl who walks through the door, but you could get a lot of them. A lot, a lot.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I mutter.
“So, what made her change her mind?” She’s turned to face me on the small couch now, giving me her undivided attention.
Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “No idea. I didn’t think she’d go for it, but she did. And ever since, I’ve worked hard to never give her a reason to doubt that decision.”
Mya’s eyes widen. “But the pictures with Tarah.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “But the pictures with Tarah.”
“Shit.” The sharp word bites through the air around us. “That bitch.”
Something between a huff and a laugh leaves me. I guess this is why I always end up spilling my secrets to Mya. It feels good to have someone on my side.
She gasps. “She doesn’t think you cheated on her, does she?”
I weigh my head from side to side. “I don’t think so, but either way, there are cracks in the foundation now. I need to call her.”
“Call her.”
I let out a laugh. “Not in the fucking RV.”
Mya looks around like she forgot we were traveling in tight quarters with four other guys. “Where’s our next stop? Austin?”
“Yup.”
“Call her then.”
As much as I get a kick out of Mya’s urgency, I can’t help feeling a sense of dread. “Yeah,” I say, wiping my hand over my mouth as I try to shake the feeling. “That’s the plan.”