Chapter 28
TRAVIS
Everyone was on my ass hard yesterday after the blowout.
They all agreed—aside from Calvin, of course—that I was being a dick, kicking Ellie off the bus.
Maybe I overreacted, but what did they want me to do?
She’s stepping into things that aren’t her business.
Acting like a concerned girlfriend, talking shit with my bandmates and friends behind my back? Nope.
I tap my knuckle on her hotel door, and a minute later, it swings open. She stands on the other side, her brow arched high and a hand on her hip. “Can I help you?” she asks, sweetly.
Ohh shit.
I move to step inside, but she blocks me with her foot. “What are you doing?”
“Can I come in?”
“No. What do you need?”
“Come on, let me in. I’m sorry.”
“Ok, but no. Do you need something band-related?” She stares blankly at me.
My hand scrubs along my jaw. She’s pissed. I was an ass, but I didn’t mean it.
“Come on, Ma—”
She throws her hand up, silencing me. “Don’t.”
“Fuck, let’s talk about this.”
“Unless it pertains to my job, I no longer have anything to say to you. Have a nice day,” she says, slamming the door in my face.
I throw my head back with a growl. She’s being dramatic. We have to keep it professional in front of everyone. Just because we’re fooling around doesn’t give her the right to stick her nose into everything else.
I make my way back to the bus. We have sound check in a few hours, and I’m running on fumes already.
I pat my pockets, searching for the tiny baggie I keep there.
When I feel it, I reach in and pull it out, frowning when I see only a few pills left.
I was sure I had more. Like way more. How did I go through them so fast?
I drop one into my mouth. This should still be enough to get me through.
My eyes scan the bus as I step on, making sure no one else is lurking, then approach Calvin, who’s at the kitchen table on his laptop. He glances up briefly when I take the seat across from him.
My stare bores into his, waiting, and after a beat, he sighs. “What can I do for you?”
“I need a little more,” I say, keeping my voice quiet, just in case Tanner has this bus wired or some shit.
His forehead creases, and he slowly closes his laptop. “That was supposed to last you weeks.”
I shrug. “Well, it didn’t. I’m still fucking tired, so I took more when I needed an extra boost. Do you want me falling over on stage?” He stares at me, and I don’t like it. I roll my shoulders, tension building. “Well?” I press.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is this becoming a problem? Because I only meant to help.”
A laugh almost escapes. This whole thing was his idea. Now he’s concerned? When it was him who was practically shoving them down my throat.
“It’s not a problem unless you’re telling me you’re not going to help.”
“I…I didn’t say that,” he says, looking around nervously.
“This has to be the last time. Make them last you. I don’t think you can afford rehab, can you?
” He laughs a little, like he meant it as a joke.
I don’t find it funny. I shoot him a glare that tells him as much.
“Ok, I’ll call my guy tomorrow. See what I can do.
It might take a few days. We’re going to be on the road again. ”
“I don’t have a few days. Figure it out,” I say, sliding out of the seat and walking off the bus.
I crack my neck, rolling over and trying to get comfortable, but I want to crawl out of my skin. It’s been five days since my stash ran out. Calvin swears he’s working on it and promises to have more before our next show tomorrow night, but this sucks.
I don’t have a problem, I just hate being tired.
I didn’t realize how good it would be to not feel that way.
Now I’m back to being exhausted, and on top of that, I’m irritable.
I slept the last two days, but I’m not rested.
I have barely moved out of my bunk. Just long enough to keep everyone off my ass.
Playing like this has been awful. I’m slow. My fingers act like they don’t even know how to play a string anymore. And everyone has noticed. They think I’ve caught some sort of bug, so they’ve left me alone the past two days, and thank fuck for that.
“Hey, man,” Penn says, ripping away the curtain that’s hiding me. I grunt in response. “I brought you some tea.”
My head lifts off the bed. He stands there with a mug of steaming liquid. I blink. “Tea? Am I the queen now?”
He gives me an unimpressed look. “Thought it might help.”
I laugh. Yeah fucking right. This has Ellie written all over it. My stomach twists at the thought.
Damn, Ellie.
I haven’t spoken a word to her since she slammed her hotel door in my face last week. When she sees me, she simply stares right through me. I’ve been so caught up in my shit, I haven’t figured out how to fix it.
“It’s for gut health or something. I think, fuck, I don’t know. Just take it,” he says, annoyed, thrusting the mug my way. I snatch it from him, spilling some on my hand and immediately hissing from the burn.
Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.
“Tell Ellie I said thanks!” I call to his back.
“Tell her yourself!”
I take a sip of the drink, then wince. Shit, that’s bad. This is for gut health? Tastes like hot piss. Fighting the urge to vomit, I place the cup in my cubby built into the wall above my bed and slide my phone out of my pocket.
Travis:
Thanks for the tea. It’s delicious.
The dots appear, then disappear. I wait, but when it’s clear she’s not going to respond, I drop my head to the bed and close my eyes.