Chapter 4
TRAVIS
“T-minus forty-three minutes,” Tanner reminds us. Again.
It’s only been twelve minutes since the last reminder. Then again, it’s who he is. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.
I roll my neck, hearing it snap, crackle, and pop like a goddamn bowl of Rice Krispies. Even after sleeping for ten hours, I’m not rested at all. Probably because I slept like a sack of shit. Those bunk beds, man. I know musicians have been doing it way longer than me, but fuck, it sucks.
I should be sleeping on a nice, cushy bed like Calvin. We’re the show. Yet, we’re sleeping on the bus most nights to “save money” while he gets a four-star hotel room. Bullshit if you ask me, but no one does.
“You good?” Penn asks, as he types on his phone, either to his girl or mom. At this point, he might even have a group chat with all his girls. I’m not jealous. He’s my best friend, and I’m happy his family is all cohesive again. As much as it can be since his dad died.
“I’m fine.”
He finishes his text and drops his phone in his back pocket, eyeing me. I stare back, and he nods, accepting my answer and leaving me alone.
I continue to warm up my vocals. We’ve been doing the same setlist this whole tour, but we always add a little something extra and different to each show. Tonight, we’re playing one of our new songs, and there’s some screaming in it. I like it, it’s cathartic, but my vocal cords aren’t used to it.
Once it’s down to the wire, we head backstage and wait for our opening act, TripleKill, to finish up.
They’re cool guys. Three dudes in their early twenties who have been playing together since they were kids.
They’ve got a sick metal sound that is the complete opposite of ours, but we love it.
They have good energy, and the crowd seems to enjoy them.
Sometimes I still can’t fucking believe we have an opening act. Before, we were the opening act.
I glance out into the crowd, they’re headbanging, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s moshing or crowd surfing. That just won’t do for us.
It’s packed but I don’t think we sold out. None of us has said it out loud, but I think our goal is to sell out at least one venue before this is over.
TripleKill shuffles off stage, and we wait for the crew to change the setup.
That might be my favorite part of this whole thing—not having to set up anymore.
We even have our own technicians in case something messes up with our instruments.
Shit is wild. And expensive. I’m not even sure how much money we’re going to be bagging after all this is said and done.
Truthfully, we don’t care. We’re doing what we love.
After the show, I pour a whole bottle of water down my throat. It’s raw and scratchy. Calvin said something about getting me some honey or some shit, but I’ve yet to see it.
“Need anything before I head out?” Ellie asks, appearing in the doorway of our greenroom. She gets the plush hotel beds too; difference is, she deserves it. Calvin doesn’t because he’s a fuckwad. They ride on our bus, too, and Calvin takes turns driving with Tanner.
Everyone shakes their head but me. I let mine dip over her. She’s at every single show, and she doesn’t even have to be. We told her to take a night off every once in a while, but at the end of the day, she’s a fangirl.
She’s wearing another one of those jumpsuit things that hugs her delicious curves. It’s all black, some type of velvet-looking material that I can practically feel under my palms. When my eyes trail up, she’s staring at me, a dark, perfectly trimmed brow arched.
I squeeze the bottle until it crunches in my fist, then toss it at her feet. She rolls her eyes but bends down to grab it, flashing me a nice view of her plump cleavage. Just what I wanted. She dumps the bottle in the trash and leaves without another word.
After every show, Tanner makes us sit through a twenty-minute “band meeting.” Like we fucking need it. We’re together every second of every day. I know how we played; I have ears. I don’t need him to relive every little detail, but we humor him because he’s a nut job.
“We have four more cities, then have two days of rest. We’ll hit the road again before heading home for four nights.” He reads from the paper clipped to his clipboard.
“Wait, I thought it was a week?” Penn asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He moves next to Tanner, looking down at what I’m guessing is our schedule.
“Originally, it was, but after analyzing our timeline more, I realized it’ll be better to get back on the road sooner.
That way, we can get another rehearsal in before our first show back.
We don’t want to get out of swing.” Tanner tucks his clipboard under his arm protectively, pushing his black-framed glasses up his face.
“Bullshit! We’re not going to be ‘out of swing,’ it’s one week,” Penn snarls.
Tanner shrugs him off, but Penn isn’t backing down. No, he wanted extra days with Olivia. The vein in his neck bulges as he puffs his chest into Tanner’s.
Tanner is tall and broad with wide shoulders, but Penn has two inches on him.
“We’re staying the whole week like we planned.
You can’t just spring this shit on us. We make decisions together,” Penn grits out, and my lip twitches.
Finally, someone is standing up to Tanner besides me.
Liam is always kissing his ass; he never wants to piss anyone off, and Penn is always so goddamn quiet.
Unless it comes to his girl—girls—then he’s a feisty motherfucker.
“It’s too late. I already made arrangements.” Tanner’s voice leaves no room to argue, but he should know better. Penn might have lain low before, but now he’s got a reason to be home. Fuck, of all people, Tanner should understand, his girl is home, too.
“I don’t fucking care about your arrangements,” Penn growls, and my eyes don’t know where to land.
They bounce between Tanner and Penn, then to Liam, who looks nervous as fuck, spinning his drumsticks in the corner with wide eyes.
“I’m staying the full week. So is the bus.
If you want to leave early, by all means.
But I won’t be there until the original date,” Penn says, shoulder-checking him on his way out the door.
Tanner sighs and shoves his papers in his folder before trailing behind him.
“Welp.” I slap my knees, glancing at Liam. “What are you gonna do, am I right?”
He gives me an uneasy smile before he hops up and follows the others.
I stay in the room a little while longer, eyeing the bottle of unopened vodka on the table that none of my friends bothered to touch.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself before grabbing it by the neck and twisting it open.
The bus leaves in twenty minutes, on to the next city.
We don’t even have time to enjoy the places we’re in.
I take a heavy drink, barely tasting it at this point. I wish I had a joint to go with it, but Tanner put a ban on drugs on the bus. Even my edibles didn’t make the trip.
Shaking my head, I have another gulp. Once I’ve washed away the itchiness in my throat, I take the bottle and head to the bus that’s idling behind the venue.
As soon as I step outside, I’m hit with screams. I’m used to them by now, but I can’t believe I’m already sick of them.
I didn’t think I’d ever tire of this shit.
Walking with the vodka in one hand, I continue to drink as girls hurl compliments at me. I wave and blow them kisses with my free hand, and I think one starts crying. I pick up my pace and hop on the bus.