Chapter 40 - Roxie
Roxie
Portland had dreary weather; the sky was the color of ash, like there was a layer of smoke hanging over the city. It drizzled on and off, never heavy enough to carry an umbrella around, but always enough to make things annoying.
When we got to Seattle after that, the weather got worse. Storms came off the Pacific and swirled around the city, a constant downpour interspersed with the distant booms of thunder that rolled and rolled without end like the chord from a bass guitar.
“Should be a break tomorrow afternoon,” one of the roadies told Cash. “We’ll finish unloading the equipment van then. Unless you want it done now…?”
Cash shook his head. “We’re good to wait. No need to get everything drenched. You guys take the rest of the day off.”
The roadie smirked. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
We sat on the tour bus while the rain came down in sheets.
Riot plucked at his guitar while making notes in his sheet music notebook, but Milo and Cash were antsy because their instruments were still on the equipment van.
Milo paced from the back of the bus to the front, while Cash nervously tapped his foot.
It was uncharacteristic for the normally stoic bass player.
“I might make a run for it,” Cash said while staring out the window. “I’ve got a bassline rumbling around in my head that I need to put to paper before it’s gone. It’s for that song you asked me about, Riot.”
Next to me on the couch, Riot perked up at that. “You’ve got something finally?”
“Think so.”
“Then get the fuck out there. You can borrow my raincoat if you need it.”
“I’ll go with you!” Milo offered.
“What are you going to do,” Riot asked, “carry all the drums back here one at a time? Arrange them all over the bed in the back?”
“Absolutely not!” Violet shouted from her bunk in the back. “Guitars can be played with headphones on. Drums are loud as fuck.”
“I can practice on the equipment van, if my drums are accessible. And if not, I’ll be there for moral support.”
“I don’t need moral support, but you’re welcome to get drenched with me,” Cash said.
Milo clapped him on the back. “Hell yeah. It’ll be an adventure.”
“He has a very low threshold for what he calls an adventure,” Riot said as the two musicians sprinted across the parking lot behind the venue.
We watched through the window as they struggled to open the back of the van, then eventually got the door open.
The rain was coming down so hard that they quickly disappeared from view once they were inside.
Riot went back to his music, and I returned to the band poster I was designing for the Pittsburgh show next month. When I finished that about half an hour later, I realized Milo and Cash hadn’t returned from the equipment van.
“They probably don’t want to run back in the rain,” Riot said absently while making another note on the sheet music.
The rain had lightened to a drizzle. I glanced at my watch. We still had a few hours before we were going to get dinner together, and I was officially bored.
“I’m gonna see what they’re up to,” I said, throwing on my shoes and grabbing a rain jacket. “If I’m not back in half an hour, send a search party.”
“I’ll rent a kayak if I have to.” Riot pulled me into a quick kiss, smiling up at me, before shifting his focus back to his music.
I threw my hood up and went out into the rain. There was an inch of water covering the parking lot, but I managed to splash my way over to the equipment van and climb up into the back just as the storm intensified again.
The rain hammered against the van's metal roof like a relentless drum solo, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Inside the equipment van, the air was thick with the scent of damp leather and lingering cigarette smoke from the roadies who'd ducked out earlier.
Cash and Milo sat on a folded tarp amid the stacked amps and cables, a card game spread out on the equipment case in front of them. Cash's green eyes flicked up to meet mine, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you in here.”
“Hey! Our muse!” Milo’s voice echoed inside the back of the long van.
“You’re playing cards?” I asked.
“And drinking beer.” Milo held up the rings of a six-pack that had only one remaining can. “We’re out of beer on the tour bus, but the roadies left theirs behind.”
“We were waiting for the storm to ebb before running back,” Cash explained. “We keep missing our windows.”
“Not complaining,” Milo said. “It’s fun back here. Like camping.”
“Camping?” I asked.
“Well, what I imagine camping to be like. I never had anyone to take me when I was a kid. I wish we had more games, though. I’m sick of cards.”
Cash glanced up at me. “Because I’ve beaten him three times in a row.”
“You should go easy on me. I grew up without parents.”
“Not going to work,” Cash said while refocusing on the cards. “I can’t be guilt tripped.”
“Damn,” Milo cursed.
I glanced behind me. The rain was so heavy we could barely see the lights inside the tour bus a few parking spots away. I was stuck here for the foreseeable future.
And I was feeling frisky.
“If you’re bored,” I said casually, “we could play a different kind of game.”
Cash raised an eyebrow at me. “You now have my attention.”
That was all the invitation I needed.