CHAPTER 22
JETTE
EMERY
checking in
JETTE
You’re not really gonna check on me every day, are you?
EMERY
wanna bet?
how’re you doing?
JETTE
Fine
EMERY
Yikes.
If you had to describe your mood in an emoji, what would it be?
JETTE
Really?
EMERY
humor me
Jette snorted at her screen. She scrolled through her most frequently used emojis before settling on the middle finger emoji which was currently sitting in second place.
EMERY
is that directed at me or describing your mood?
JETTE
Both I guess
EMERY
yaaa okay. Love you
JETTE
Love you more
Her phone was precariously perched on her snare drum as she meticulously adjusted the cymbals at either end of the kit.
Bright white lights gleamed overhead and a single bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she tested each drum head, hitting each one squarely in the center.
The speakers on either end of the stage buzzed from the frequencies until the front-of-house engineers finished carefully adjusting each minute detail.
After six weeks of tour, the novelty of sound check had worn off.
Now it’d grown to feel like a daily chore.
Jette glanced around the busy stage. The rest of the band was seated on the risers, sipping iced coffee to nurse their hangovers.
Last night had been Sav’s birthday celebration.
After the day off, the entire group had spent last night packed into a crowded Boston gay bar.
The small bar had only grown more rowdy and overcrowded as pictures of the band began circulating on social media.
It got out of hand quickly, and probably would’ve escalated even further had Natalie not stepped in.
The end of the night left all four of them sufficiently drunk and giggling as they danced in the windowless corner of the bar.
Jette couldn’t remember the last time she had been that drunk.
It wasn’t something she was particularly proud of.
When the bar announced the last call, the cute redhead who had been ogling Jette finally made her way over to introduce herself.
Jette had been just drunk enough to entertain the thought, politely extending her hand to the woman before dragging her into the restroom.
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of pressing her against the graffiti-covered wall before Jette came to her senses.
The woman’s perfume clung to her clothes, a cloying vanilla that made Jette recoil.
And her tongue was too aggressive, too sloppy as she coaxed Jette’s mouth open.
Everything felt wrong. When she stumbled backwards, blue eyes stared back at her rather than the green ones she unintentionally looked for everywhere she went.
Jette excused herself, barely able to mutter an apology before she slipped out the back door.
It wasn’t as though Jette had spent the past few weeks constantly thinking about Reese. She hadn’t meant to, at least. But her eyes still subconsciously scanned every crowded room for that familiar shade of red hair. She couldn’t help it.
A loud pop broke Jette’s train of thought as a lightbulb overhead blew out.
Finley and Paulie covered their ears, accidentally sloshing iced coffee in the process.
Sav was slumped over, her hood covering most of her long sleek black hair.
Thick and dark sunglasses covered her sallow face.
Clearly Jette wasn’t the one in the worst shape this afternoon.
Natalie called for a break and shooed them off, handing each of them a bottle of gatorade as they trudged off stage.
“I’m gonna need you guys to pull it together,” Natalie chastised.
Her piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched Paulie swallow the liquid with difficulty.
“New York is an important show. We have the record label execs coming tonight,” her voice was shrewd.
Jette nodded in agreement as she twisted the cap off her own bottle.
The hangover nausea had dissipated entirely by now but the lingering dehydration made her limbs feel heavy.
Natalie had been drinking with them last night, but she had clearly paced herself better than the rest of the group.
Her icy blonde hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail sticking out of her baseball cap.
She tapped on her screen, undoubtedly replying to the myriad of emails and texts that had come in this morning.
“Do you need anything?” she asked before Sav promptly vomited into the nearest trash can.
“Jesus christ,” she mumbled under her breath.
“You all need to eat. I’m ordering lunch,” Natalie stated as she begrudgingly rubbed soothing circles on Sav’s heaving back.
Jette perked up. “I can go pick it up,” she offered.
Natalie looked to her in exasperation as Sav extended a silent thumbs up, her head never leaving the rim of the trash can.
“I could use a walk. Fresh air, you know.” Natalie nodded in agreement and quickly waved her off.
Her hands were now busy holding Sav’s hair out of harm’s way.
Jette took advantage of the distraction and ducked down the hallway.
She rifled through her backpack for her wallet and slipped it into her jacket pocket before heading out the doors of the loading deck.
New York felt different in the spring. The air still held a slight chill as the wind crept up her neck.
And trees overhead were covered in small green and white buds, a promise of new leaves and flowers in the coming weeks.
She tucked her ear buds in and mindlessly flicked through a playlist, matching her stride to the beat.
Jette didn’t have anywhere in mind, instead she let her feet carry her down the busy streets.
It was easy to get lost in the city. Hundreds of people brushed past her on the crowded sidewalks, pushing past to get home after a busy day or in a hurry to meet friends for happy hour.
Jette felt like a single tiny thread in a sprawling tapestry.
Small and unnoticeable but still a part of something much bigger than just herself.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Jette’s stomach swooped the same way it had every time her phone buzzed in the last few weeks.
She idly wondered when that persistent feeling would finally go away.
Natalie’s name flashed across the screen and Jette made a note of the cafe listed while her stomach settled again.
It was only a fifteen minute walk from the tiny park she had been exploring to the cozy corner cafe.
A bell overhead rang as she walked through the front door and Jette was hit with the heavenly smell of coffee and fresh pastries.
The front counter was littered with flyers and canisters of sweeteners and milk.
She ordered a double shot of espresso and settled into a corner table while she waited.
Natalie had mentioned it would be nearly an hour until the order was ready to be picked up.
The baristas chatted loudly over the high pitched whistling of the machinery behind the counter.
Jette took out her headphones and was pleasantly surprised to hear a Fincher song playing overhead.
The blue-haired androgynous barista at the register gave Jette an approving once over and Jette was quick to avert her own eyes.
She wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Instead she scrolled through her phone and subconsciously mouthed along to the lyrics.
Her toes quietly tapped to the beat, an old drumming habit that she had yet to break.
“Jette?” a voice softly called out from the counter.
She glanced up to see the blue-haired barista precariously holding a tiny ceramic mug and saucer.
She glided over to the counter and uttered an appreciative thanks before retreating back to her table.
The smell coming from the tiny mug was so dark and strong it made her eyes drift shut.
She savored the tiniest first sip and let out a quiet sigh.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed ink scrawled on the corner of the paper napkin lining her saucer.
Ten digits followed by an X and O. Jette risked a look back at the counter and found it conveniently abandoned.
She shook her head lightly in amusement and took another sip as she shifted in her seat, subtly angling her back to the counter.
She didn’t want to chance meeting eyes with the barista again.
Time passed slowly as she lazily read through an old favorite on her kindle app.
The comforting novel was a welcome distraction from the cloudy thoughts that circled her mind.
She had read more in the past three weeks of tour than she had in the past several years.
Words blurred in front of her eyes as she imagined herself in the pages too.
The voice at the counter called out her name louder this time.
Jette took the final sip of her drink as she turned around in a hurry.
She maintained friendly but strictly casual eye contact as she handed her card to the barista, much to the barista’s clear disappointment.
The flyers on the cluttered counter made Jette do a double take.
A pop-art drawing of roller skates, helmets, and fishnet stockings left a hollow feeling in her chest.
“Have you ever seen roller derby?” the barista asked coyly, gesturing at the stack of flyers that had caught Jette’s complete attention. She struggled to nod her head as the barista looked at her expectantly.
“Yeah my—” Jette’s voice halted. Stammering, she tried to play it off like her guts weren’t tangling themselves into knots. “I uh—someone I used to know played.” The words hurt to say. It felt like a lie to classify Reese as merely someone she used to know.