CHAPTER SEVEN
After the longest goodbye kiss in history, Ethan finally boarded the bus.
“Did you take his tongue with you,” Wolf joked. “We could’ve been halfway to Sacramento by now.”
“I wish I took him with me.” Ethan sighed, took a seat next to the window, and rested the palm of his hand on the glass, staring at Tyler as the bus drove off.
Wolf turned to Marshall who was sitting across from him with a less-than-excited look on his face. Everyone should be pumped about starting the tour but half of their band looked like they just lost their best friend. “Are you gonna be mopey too?” he asked Marshall.
“No. It’s just that me and Amy are new, and tours have a way of tearing relationships apart.”
“Don’t worry about it. Everything’ll be fine. We have a two-week break in a month before we head to Rocktoberfest and finish the tour. It’ll roll around before you know it.”
“I’m not waiting that long. I’m flying Amy out in about a week, when we have a couple of days off. I’m not letting a girl like her get away.”
“Good for you.” Wolf nodded, happy his friend was in a serious relationship. He only wished he could say the same.
Ethan sighed and placed a food container on the table in front of him.
“What’s that?” Wolf asked.
“Brownies. Tyler’s old neighbor made them for us for the ride.”
“Homemade brownies?” Wolf snatched the container, pulled off the lid, and took a big bite out of one of the brownies. It was dark and chewy and delicious. “Mmm. You gotta try one. If this doesn’t cheer you up, nothing will.”
When neither Ethan nor Marshall reached for a brownie, Harris took one. “They’re amazing. Try one,” he told the guys, his mouth still full.
Ethan took one, then Marshall, and they ended up eating almost all the brownies in the container.
Wolf was eating his third one, obsessed with how chocolatey and rich the center was.
“I can’t believe how good these brownies are.
” He stared at the half-eaten brownie in his hand.
“Look at it.” He showed everyone the brownie, bringing it close to their faces so they could see the silky, glistening texture.
He took another bite. “It’s gooey. And chewy. ”
Harris laughed. “That rhymes. We should write a song about it.”
“A song about a brownie?” Ethan asked, his face scrunched up because it was crazy. And stupid.
Or was it? Wolf wondered. He started to wonder what other songs there were about food.
There was “American Pie” by Don McLean. That was classic.
Wait. That wasn’t about a pie. It was about driving a Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.
Damn. That’s disappointing, but it really made him want a piece of pie.
Peaches! The Presidents of the United States had a song called “Peaches.” That was a funny song, and he laughed.
He sang the lyrics in his head. Movin’ to the country, I’m gonna eat a lot of peaches.
I’m movin’ to the country. I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches.
Millions of peaches. Peaches for me. Millions of peaches.
Peaches for free. It was silly, and he laughed again.
All of a sudden, he noticed everyone was staring at him, and he jumped back. “Why are you looking at me?”
Everyone started laughing like crazy, and Wolf started to chuckle along with them. “What’s so funny?”
“You were singing about peaches!” Marshall pointed at Wolf. “Peaches! You were singing about Peaches!” He slapped the table, still laughing. “Peaches!”
“No way. I wasn’t singing that out loud.”
“Yes! You were!”
“I thought I was only thinking about it in my head. Are you sure you weren’t reading my mind?” But they all heard it. Oh my God. Maybe they were all reading his mind.
Ethan’s phone chimed with an incoming call. He looked at the screen, and then started waving his hand at everyone. “Shhhhh! Shhhhh! It’s Tyler,” he whispered, his finger to his lips. “Quiet.” He stared at the phone screen.
“Um. You have to press the green button,” Harris said.
Ethan laughed quietly behind his hand, then answered the call.
“Heyyyyyyy, baby! I’m glad you called. We’re just hanging around the bus.
Shooting the breeze. Harris wrote a song about a brownie.
” He paused. “Of course, we ate them. They were awesome. Tell Iris to send more. They’re the inspiration behind the song.
” He looked at Harris, nodded really fast, and gave him the thumbs up.
” Another pause. “What?” Ethan’s brows rose sky high, and then he burst out laughing.
He laughed so hard he fell sideways in the seat, almost landing in Marshall’s lap, and held his stomach with both hands, seemingly forgetting that he was on a call with Tyler.
His laughter was contagious. Wolf joined in first, then Harris, then Marshall. The four of them were practically hysterical, with Ethan the only one in the know.
“What are we laughing at?” Harris asked, barely able to get the words out.
This made Ethan laugh harder, slapping his leg a few times.
“Wh—what’s so . . . funny?” Wolf stuttered, trying to catch his breath between laughs.
Ethan wiped at the corners of his eyes and tried to stop laughing long enough to speak. “They . . . were . . . pot brownies!”
Everyone immediately stopped laughing, looked at one another with wide eyes, then rolled with laughter again.
Ethan finally remembered he was on a call with Tyler and scrambled to find his phone, which he dropped somewhere in the middle of his laughing fit, and it ended up on the floor of the bus under the table.
He brought the phone to his ear. “Sorry. I dropped the phone.” He paused again.
“It’s OK.” Another pause. “We’re fine.” He held the phone out to everyone. “Tell him we’re fine.”
Harris and Marshall both yelled, “We’re fine!” But Wolf was far from fine so didn’t join in the sentiments. Instead, he followed up with, “I’m not fine! I’m higher than the fucking clouds!” And it made all four of them roll with hysterics again.
“I gotta call you later,” Ethan told Tyler and abruptly ended the call.
“Why did he give us pot brownies?” Marshall asked, wiping his eyes and finally getting his laughter under control.
“Iris made two batches and gave Tyler the wrong one.” Ethan exhaled and wiped his hands over his face a few times in order to calm down. “She only realized it when she and her friends ate them and nothing happened.”
Wolf laughed so hard he fell into Harris and buried his face in Harris’ shoulder. “Oh my God. I wish I could have seen their faces!”
Ethan rubbed at his temples. “We gotta sober up. Paul is gonna kill us if we’re wasted when we show up in Sacramento.”
“We need coffee,” Wolf told everyone.
“No, we need water,” Marshall commented.
“That’s not gonna do anything,” Harris said. “We need to sleep it off.”
They ended up drinking a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and then went to their bunks, shutting the lights, and closing the curtains, hoping to fall asleep.
Wolf stared into the darkness. It was quiet and loud at the same time.
No one said a word, lest they dare disturb the sound of silence.
Wolf’s eyes flew open as he realized he was reciting the words to a popular Simon & Garfunkel song—sort of—and he started to laugh softly.
The curtain to his bunk flew open, and Harris’ face appeared in the darkness with a flashlight up to his chin while he let out a macabre laugh, and Wolf almost shit his pants.
He grabbed his chest, let out a girly scream, and jumped to a sitting position.
“What the fuck? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”
Harris was grinning. “I bet you’re not high anymore.”
“No, I’m not. I’m struggling to get my blood pressure down.”
“You’re welcome. I scared the THC right out of you. It’s like when you have the hiccups.”
“Shut up and go to sleep!” Marshall yelled from his bunk.
Both Harris and Wolf chuckled softly under their hands. “Do you want to go up front and talk? Maybe grab a bite?” Harris asked.
“Sure.”
They both headed to the refrigerator and looked inside.
It had been fully stocked and there was an apple pie.
A whole fucking apple pie! Just like in the song!
Wait. The song was “American Pie” and not about a pie at all.
Wolf shook the thought from his head and held up the pie, smiling from ear to ear.
“Is that an apple pie?” Harris asked, his hungry eyes boring into it.
“Yeah, and we’re gonna eat the whole thing. Grab a fork and some plates,” he said, taking the pie out of the box and placing it on the table in the dining booth.
Harris grabbed the plates and utensils, as well as a container of milk and two glasses. It was perfect, and delicious, and they ended up eating a little more than half the pie before they decided to save some for the guys and moved to the couches.
“Did you really write a song about a brownie?” Wolf asked.
Harris looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah. But I don’t remember it. I’m sure it was stupid.”
“Was I really singing ‘Peaches’ out loud?”
“Yeah.” Harris chuckled. “You were enjoying it too. Swaying back and forth with a silly grin. It was adorable.”
“Oh God.” Wolf covered his eyes with his hand and laughed on an exhale. “What a night.”
“We should just go to sleep,” Harris said. “We’ll be in Sacramento in a couple of hours.
“I know,” Wolf replied, but I’m having a good time. I always stay up late, and I don’t usually have any company, so this is nice.” Harris had been there to fill that void lately, and Wolf had come to rely on and appreciate their friendship.
They sat together and talked about everything, jumping from one topic to another before they finally decided to turn in.