Chapter 13
ELLIE
I bounce on my toes, in the lobby of the airport. My eyes dart around, scanning the area for the familiar, long locks of golden hair on top of my best friend’s head. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her in person. We FaceTime constantly, but it’s not the same.
A load of people come barreling through, and I squeal to myself.
A wave of anticipation washes over me as the crowd thins, and a pop of golden waves hit my line of vision.
Right next to Liv’s shiny hair is a head of much darker, shorter strands—Pacey.
I hop up and down. I’m a short girl, barely five foot two, but I refuse to go unnoticed.
I wave my hands around until Liv’s eyes lock on mine.
She picks up her pace, rushing toward me. I start sprinting and we crash into each other, locking into an embrace that might suggest we’ve been separated for years, not months, but that’s how much we love each other.
“Oh my God!” I cry. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I know. It’s so good to see you in real life!”
Pacey approaches us, and I drag her into our hug, too. We haven’t hung out much, but only because before the tour she’d been really busy. She started school and got a job. I’m glad she was able to come. We’re going to have the best girls’ weekend.
On the ride, Liv fills me in on the grand opening of her store in the coming months.
Penn was adamant that he be a part of it, and as long as Calvin doesn’t pull any sneaky shit with adding surprise shows, we’ll be home.
I can’t wait. She’s going to be an amazing business owner. Hell, she already is.
We bypass the venue where the guys are doing sound check and go straight to the hotel next door, so Olivia and Pacey can get situated. Pacey is bunking with me, but Olivia is staying across the hall with Penn, sadly.
Pacey wheels her suitcase to the other side of the room and flops down beside me. “I’m so tired. I wasn’t prepared for jet lag. I’ve never flown before. Should I nap before the show or just chug an energy drink and hope for the best?”
“Nap,” Olivia answers at the same time I say, “Energy drink.”
We all look at each other and laugh.
After they’ve showered, Olivia slips out to have lunch with Penn. Pacey is sprawled out on the bed. “I can’t believe my brother is on tour. Like, as the headliner. I’m so proud of him.”
“It’s pretty crazy, right? They’re kicking ass.” Merch sales are climbing every show and they’re this close to selling out. It’s going to happen, I can feel it.
“Our dad would be so proud. I wish he was here to see it.” The despair in her voice is evident. I turn around, and she’s staring up at the ceiling, but even from here, I can see the pain etched on her face.
“He knows,” I tell her, hoping like hell my voice is convincing.
I don’t know much about God or where we go after we die.
My parents never took me to church. Instead, they pushed me to find my own beliefs and forge my own path.
But I like to think heaven is real and the loved ones who passed before us are there.
Watching over us, enjoying our wins alongside us, even if not physically.
It makes the pain of losing them a fraction more bearable.
“Yeah,” she sighs, her tone perking back up like a flipped switch. “Anyway, what are you wearing? I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I packed a little of everything.”
“Ohh, let me see.” I rush over to her suitcase as she unzips it.
Everything spills out into a lump on the floor.
It doesn’t look like she took the time to fold anything.
Looks like she just chucked everything in and said fuck it.
The total opposite of her brother. I’ve seen his packing skills—he’s weirdly neat with it.
“I’m not much of a packer.” She shrugs. “Never really had anywhere to go before.”
“No worries.” A pang of hurt smacks my chest. I only know a small part of Pacey’s story and it’s not happy at all.
She’s been through a lot, but she’s still here, smiling, and doing her best despite the shitty hand she’s been dealt.
“Let’s see what we’re working with.” I start digging everything out, making a pile for tops and bottoms. Pacey’s style is similar to her brother’s—a tad emo.
Dark colors, T-shirts, and hoodies. A pair of Converse tucked in the side pocket snag my attention.
I bring out the white high tops. “These could work,” I say, putting them to the side.
“What should I do with my hair? Does anyone even look at you during these shows? I mean, not you. Obviously people look at you, you’re gorgeous. I just don’t know if I want to get all dressed up, ya know? Maybe I’ll just wear a band tee and some shorts.”
“Nuh-uh.” I wave my finger at her. “You’re beautiful. Guys will be looking at you, and you never know when Mr. Right will come along.”
“I don’t really want to attract attention. I’m not sure I’m ready to date yet. Besides, Penn will probably snuff out anyone who gets too close.”
“We dress for us, not them. And pardon me, but fuck your brother. I—”
“Hey!” Olivia says, coming through the door at the exact moment I was cursing her man’s name.
Our heads snap around as she strolls through the room, slurping on a slushie. I hold my hand up. “I was just telling Pacey not to worry about Penn if she’s approached by some hottie later.”
She pops her bottom lip out and nods. “Fair enough.”
We spend the next few hours getting completely dolled up.
I’m wearing a black overall dress with a red cropped T-shirt underneath and black Doc Martens.
Olivia is sporting a high-waisted skirt and a custom band tee she had made with Penn’s name across the back.
I’m pretty sure she has a closet full of those now.
Pacey settled on black shorts and fishnets, a white tank top with an oversized flannel, and her Chucks. She let me French braid her hair into two short braids. She looks cute—barely legal—but adorable.
We’re riding in the elevator when Pacey asks, “Not that I’m complaining, but why do we have to stand backstage? Why can’t we be in the mix? I want to have the whole experience for my first punk rock show. I want to be in the pit.”
My eyes go wide, and I squeal. “That’s a fantastic idea!”
“I don’t know...Penn said the crowd gets crazy.” Olivia bites down on her lip, eyes bouncing between me and Pacey, both of us wearing a similar expression of delight.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Pacey suggests, and Olivia shoots her a look. “Come on, Liv! It’ll be fun. Don’t you want to see firsthand how much everyone loves your boyfriend?” Pacey asks.
Liv’s face scrunchies. “I don’t think we should.”
“If it gets too wild, we’ll just head backstage.
The guys never have to know,” I urge, wanting so badly to be in the crowd.
Of course, there’s a very high chance they’ll see us.
I don’t say that. I’m always backstage, and Pacey is right, it’s not that great.
I want to feel the energy from the crowd.
See the guy’s faces and maybe even thrash around.
We hop off the elevator and exit the hotel. We’re just a block away and can already see the crowd forming in front of the venue.
“Please, Liv.” Pacey pouts her lip, giving her best puppy dog eyes.
Liv sighs. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Both Pacey and I scream, pulling her into a hug. “Penn is going to kill me,” she mutters under her breath.
“He loves you too much,” Pacey assures her.
I use my credentials to get us through the side door, and we head straight for the bar and grab a beer. The perks of being a part of the crew aren’t so bad.
We make our way to the greenroom. Liv and Pacey both stop to take photos of the door with Loose Threads’ name across it, then we join the guys for a few minutes, just to wish them good luck.
We don’t want to mess with their routines, so we slip out and wait in the lobby, watching as the crowd grows larger outside the glass doors.
“Wow,” Liv says in awe, looking out at the excited faces standing in line hours early to see the band. She’s seen them play multiple times, but this is her first headlining stop. She pulls out her phone and starts snapping pictures of everything. “I’m being such a fangirl.” She smiles sheepishly.
“As you should be. You are his number one fan.”
“I don’t know...” Pacey trails off, stepping next to the window to our left. “That girl there might give you a run for your money, Liv.” She discreetly points out a girl in line, and Liv and I step closer to get a better look.
A tiny redhead is wearing a shirt with Penn’s face on it, surrounded by an airbrushed pink heart. If that’s not enough, she’s holding a sign that reads: I want to have your babies, Penn Hayze!
I roll my lips to keep from laughing as I watch Olivia read the sign, her eyes growing wide. She slowly turns to us, pure horror lighting her face. I can’t help it; a laugh bubbles out of me. Pacey joins me, and Olivia huffs. “It’s not funny! That is…weird.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, pressing shamelessly against the glass. “There’s more.” The redhead turns back to her group of friends, each of them sporting different shades of red hair, and wearing shirts just like hers, except instead of Penn’s face, there’s one of all of them—Liam, Tanner, and Travis.
They’re holding signs, too, but from this angle, we can’t read them. I imagine they say something similar to hers, though. We all take in the sight and then glance at each other. Laughter bursts from each of us loudly, drawing attention from the crowd right outside.
We back away from the window, wiping tears from our eyes as we try to rein in our hysteria.
“Well, I feel better that each of them has their own crazed fan,” Olivia says once we’ve finally stopped laughing.
I’ve seen some things during this tour, but that might take the cake. Loose Threads’ ginger fangirl club.
“This is probably nothing compared to what they see after the show, though, right? Are there girls lined up by the bus waiting after every show?” Pacey asks me.
Olivia watches me carefully. I know Penn probably doesn’t fill her in on every detail.
He doesn’t want her to worry, and we all know she doesn’t have anything to worry about.
He’s obsessed with her. That’s why I usually spare her the details on certain things.
I don’t want to make things any harder on her than they already are.
“Well,” I start, trying to stall. She sends me a look that says she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“It can get hectic. They go feral for Travis because he’s the only one who actually entertains them,” I say honestly.
Groupies will settle for whoever, but they always set their sights on the lead singer.
“One girl slingshot her thong on stage and it landed right on Liam’s drumstick a few nights ago. That was pretty good.”
They giggle, and I notice some of the tension ease from Liv’s shoulders.
We take a ton more photos, for memories and content, then we grab a drink and head toward the stage to wait.