Chapter 48
TRAVIS
I hate this.
This is bullshit.
I’m sitting here, unable to say a damn thing while everyone goes on about the situation. My situation.
I lost my goddamn voice. The thing that makes me me. The thing that makes me needed. And it happened out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere, my throat has been a little scratchy. I just figured it was lack of hydration and overuse, and I could push through.
“I already made him a doctor’s appointment,” Ellie informs the group.
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Not because I’m annoyed with her, I’m annoyed I have to see a damn doctor. She’s been great, but I’m not surprised. Ellie’s a fixer. Got a problem? She’ll find the solution before you can blink. She’s damn good at her job.
This probably doesn’t fall under her list of duties, but she jumped in before I could think and had it taken care of. She got me all kinds of shit I didn’t ask for and found me a reputable doctor, somehow persuading them with her sexy voice to get me in ASAP.
“Worst-case scenario, he’s out for weeks, best-case scenario, only the next show,” Tanner starts, staring down at his clipboard.
Pft. How is that best-case scenario? Missing one show is my worst nightmare. I missed one song when I was arrested, and I’m still not over it. I don’t need them thinking they can do this without me.
“We could cancel,” Liam suggests.
I perk up. Not ideal, but…
“Not only will you have to refund a ton of money, you’ll risk more backlash. Not the best example on your first tour,” Calvin points out. I snarl at him, and he winces.
“How about we put a pin in this until tomorrow,” Ellie says, glancing at me, nervousness all over her face.
“We can’t put this off,” Calvin scoffs. “Do you want to tell three thousand people hours before a show it’s canceled?”
“We won’t make any decisions or announcements until we hear what the doctor says.” Penn’s voice is final, making Calvin sigh.
“If Travis is a no-go, our only option is for you to sing. We can’t cancel last minute,” Tanner says to Penn, and I want to punch him, even if he’s right.
Penn looks at me. He’s silently telling me he’s sorry and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will.
I get up and go to my bunk. If I need to rest to get my voice back to it’s beautiful melody, that’s what I’m going to do.
Well, it’s happening. My greatest fear is coming true right before my eyes, and I can’t do a thing to stop it.
I’m watching from the side of the stage as the guys do sound check. The doctor confirmed I strained my vocal cords. Technically, I can talk, maybe even sing. But when I attempt to, it feels like someone is slicing the inside of my throat with razor blades.
Thankfully, it’s not laryngitis or a severe case.
He said I need my proper care and rest to get my voice back to normal.
How in the fuck am I suppose to rest? I’m on tour.
Doesn’t he know what that entails? He does—Ellie informed him.
She went with me. Someone had to speak for me and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Calvin.
The doctor simply shook his head, ordering me to take a week off. A week? That’s three shows. No fucking way I’m doing that.
It’s been ten hours so far, and I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut and drink two gallons of water. I should be good to go soon.
“We need to change the set list. Penn, pick the songs you think will work best for you, and we’ll focus on those,” Tanner says.
I wanted to postpone, come back in a few months, but I was outvoted, and not by my band.
Ellie ran a poll on our Instagram letting everyone know I was unable to sing.
They could choose a new date when I was able, or have the show with Penn singing lead.
The response was an overwhelming 89 percent for still having the show. Without me.
“Why are you torturing yourself?” I turn around and see Ellie approaching. My eyes flick back to the stage, and I shrug.
Her hand lands on my shoulder. “You should be resting. The faster you heal up, the faster you can get back out there.” Her voice is quiet and gentle, and only for me, but I’m in a pissy mood. I want to sulk.
I tap my phone, letting her know I’m about to text her.
Travis:
You know what would make me feel better?
She reads the message and arches a single brow.
Travis:
your pussy
Travis:
in my mouth
Travis:
your cum would probably heal my throat
She tries to bite back her smile, but her lip twitches. “No. Go rest.” I shake my head. There’s no way I can rest with this going on. What if they need my help? “Fine. I’ll be in my room if anyone needs anything.”
I watch her walk away, hips swaying in dress pants that hug her ass tightly. I want her to sit it on my face while she deepthroats my cock. It really would make me feel better.
Sighing, I turn back to the stage as Penn steps up to the mic. The first note reaches me. I already knew what song it’d be. It’s popular right now and probably one of his favorites—“BarbieGirl.”
As I listen to the lyrics flowing from his mouth, I sit up straighter.
He sounds…different.
Fuck, this song was made for his voice. All deep, smooth, and full of feeling. When I sing it, I don’t mean it like he does. To me it’s just a song. To him it’s her.
The chair I’m sitting in makes a loud screeching sound when I slide away from it. Penn’s head snaps my way. His brows pinch together, guilt crossing his features. I tip my chin, letting him know I’m good, even though we both know I’m not.
As predicted, I got zero sleep. I tossed and turned in my bunk for two hours before the guys came back from sound check.
Then I stuck my headphones in. I didn’t want to hear how anything went or what their plans were.
I planned on skipping the show, pretending it’s just a bad dream.
Tomorrow it’ll be over, and the next day we’ll be in a new city doing another show, and all this will be a distant memory. But I can’t do that to them.
I focus on my phone screen, watching a NatGeo episode in an attempt to distract myself. A kangaroo takes up the screen; he’s chillin’ in a lake. I always thought kangaroos were crazy looking. Like beefed-up rabbits. Seriously, what do they eat? They’re fucking jacked.
Wait, what’s happening? Why is there a dog in the water, too?
Oh, no.
If I could, I’d scream. I’m yelling in my head, telling the dog to swim, get the hell out of there, but this isn’t a live stream.
There was no trigger warning on this episode, so if I’m about to watch a dog get drowned, I’m going to lose it.
Gonna write a strongly worded email with a shit ton of curse words to the sick fucks at National Geographic.
All of a sudden, a man appears in the water. He’s yelling at the kangaroo, trying to shoo it away, but the animal just stares at him, maybe even puffs his chest. That damn thing is baiting him. Meanwhile, the dog is frozen, unable to swim away, and barely holding his head above water.
“Kangaroos often see dogs as dingoes, triggering their defensive mechanisms. When they feel threatened, their instincts kick in, which could lead to disastrous consequences.”
Threatened? It’s a chocolate lab. Doesn’t even resemble a dingo. I’m two seconds away from turning it and watching something more soothing, like Beta fish or bald eagles, when the man swoops in, screaming and running off the ugly beast, saving his dog.
A heavy breath expels from my lungs. Thank fuck.