27. Chapter 19
Liar (It Takes One to Know One)
Rain
After my fight with Dutch, and half-fuck, half-fight with Cohen, the animosity on our tour bus remains at an all-time high.
The only one of us who isn’t affected or actively pissed at the others is Dallas.
Mostly because he moves through the bus like a zombie.
The purple wells under his eyes get bigger and bigger every day.
At night, I can hear him whispering to Kitten.
She seems to have made it her personal mission to comfort him, so I’ve taken to leaving my bedroom door open just enough that she can go to him when she wants to.
Hopefully she can buy me some goodwill with at least one Kelly brother.
Trey showed up again at the Mont-Royale show.
Then in Barrett Hills. He was everywhere, and I couldn’t escape him.
He’s made a spectacle of our relationship at each and every show, causing problems in the crowd or with the bouncers, harassing anyone he could in an attempt to get close to me.
Though I ignore him and even tried to have him barred or kicked out at each show, neither Cohen nor Dutch seem to care.
Meanwhile, the tension between Dutch and me, oh, and between Cohen and me, and for some reason I can’t understand, between Dutch and Cohen, continues to soar.
Neither of them has confronted me directly, not like in Cambria.
They don’t need to, because Dutch’s disappointment plays and replays in my head like a record stuck on a loop, while the familiar feeling of Cohen’s body pressed against mine is something I’ve been trying and failing to forget for a long time, so experiencing it again, knowing that I still affect him the same way has triggered a gnawing ever-present question within in me that I point blank refuse to examine.
That and the fact that their anger remains clear as day.
How the fuck Trey got himself to our show tonight in Watosk, Alberta, I’ll never know.
But there he is in the front row. Again.
I’d suspected this would happen, so I had a long chat with the venue’s crew when we arrived and asked them to bar him from the Stampede Tavern if he showed.
So much for my efforts. I’m so distracted that I stumble over the lyrics to ‘Concrete Graveyard’, one of the slower songs off the Skids album.
Stumble to the point that Cohen steps in and joins me in a harmony.
That is its own kind of shock. All the guys have great voices, but they rarely use them.
Once upon a time, Cohen would harmonize with me occasionally during practices and for the odd moment on stage, especially if we were singing a love song.
This is the first time he’s done it since the band’s been back together, though from the way his green eyes glare at me over the mic, he’s not doing it to be nice but to save face after I’ve fucked things up again.
The show ends, and we’re getting ready to leave the stage when screams replace cheers in the crowd.
I’m terrified for our fans and spin back to see Trey has shoved several people to the ground, trying to claw his way towards the stage.
His efforts are short-lived because we aren’t the only ones who hear the screams, and from either side of the stage, bouncers surge forward.
One in particular, a big guy wearing a high-vis vest, gets to Trey first, as other crowd members step out of his way.
Relief hits hard as I watch the bouncer lock Trey in an arm-hold, securing both of his arms behind his back. Once two other security guards join him, they easily drag Trey away.
My relief is short-lived, though, and I only make it as far as my dressing room, because inside, waiting for me is Lou Braun.
He hasn’t come to a single show since Steelsville, nor did he let any of us know he would be here tonight.
I sorta figured that, if anything, he might show up in Calder so he could cash in on the Deviant Dreams announcement and subsequent glory.
Yet here he is, sitting in a chair, backlit by the makeup mirror and the bright white lights that surround it. The shadows make the too-tight skin of his face appear even more ghoulish than in the light of day. None of which is improved by the words that crawl out of him either.
“I see Tina’s doing her job. You look downright delicious.”
His eyes roam over my body despite the fact that I don’t acknowledge his comment.
“Do the guys know you’re here?” I ask, but I can’t help but twist to look at the door behind me. It’s already closed, so I know it’s naive to hope that Dutch, or Dallas, or hell, even Cohen might appear, but I can’t help myself.
“Oh no, no, no.” He shakes his head as he leaves his seat and slinks in my direction.
He passes within an inch of me, and I freeze.
My legs lock. It’s like they no longer work.
Even though he doesn’t touch me at all, I freeze.
Even though I want to run, I freeze, and when he positions himself between me and my only exit, it stops mattering. There’s nowhere to run, anyway.
“I came to see you, Ray-Ray.”
The way he tracks my every movement is so familiar, so predatory that goosebumps erupt over my arms. Not in a good way.
“I think I’m due an update on my little investment. How are you getting on, Ray-Ray? Keeping Cohen Brady sufficiently distracted?”
Weirdly and unintentionally, I think I am. And Trey’s presence is definitely helping with that, though I don’t mention that to Lou.
Finally, he asks the direct question, “Have his lawyers called?”
I hesitate. Cohen’s phone certainly rings more than the rest of ours, but I don’t really recall him ever answering it. Texts, yes. Maybe emails too. Anytime we aren’t actively performing or practicing, his fingers fly over his phone screen the same way they do over guitar strings.
Cringing, I finally answer, “I think so.”
Lou’s arms shoot forwards, his fingers desperately clawing for me, but I jump backwards out of reach just in time to reassure him, “B-b-but, I don’t think he’s actually answered, or spoken to anyone.
I don’t think he’s even called them back or checked his voicemail.
Definitely not in the last few days!” I insist.
That is one hundred percent true because the drive from Barrett Hills to Watosk runs right through the middle of nowhere.
It’s all thick forests, followed by empty prairie highways.
Hell, there was a whole day there when our bus didn’t pass a single other vehicle on Highway One. Lou knows that and relaxes a smidgeon.
“You better keep it that way, baby.”
The threat is barely veiled. But his use of the term baby makes me gag.
So much so that I make for the toilet the second he leaves the room, which is exactly where Tina finds me five minutes later.
Like last time, it’s all of two seconds before I’m pouring out my soul to her, who once again listens with the patience of a saint.
When I’m done rambling like the hysterical mess I am, she takes one look at me and says, “It’s official, you need a break from all these men. ”
Which is how I learn that she and the Double D’s have their own smaller bus that follows us around.
The inside of which looks like a slightly goth drag performer’s closet exploded.
There are black sequins everywhere. A sewing machine where apparently Dexter is actively making me a shirt for our show in Calder.
He makes me promise not to peek at it. And best of all, they actually have a TV on board and a whole slew of girly movies to choose from.
Since we aren’t starting the drive back to Calder until morning—the Rockies aren’t safest to drive through at night, at the end of winter avalanche season—they convince me to hang out.
We watch a movie I last saw in theatres with Dutch when I was fourteen.
Derek makes popcorn for all of us, and they even have jalapeno powder, so I douse mine in the stuff.
The spicier the better is a motto I live by when it comes to food.
After the credits roll, we spend another hour gossiping.
Tina tells us about her partner, Xena, and I learn that Derek and Dexter met at a bar in the Gay-bourhood, the so-dubbed area of Barrett Hill’s because of its many queer-friendly cafés, clubs and restaurants.
For the first time in my adult life, I think I might be making friends.
Friends who aren’t my former boyfriend and bandmates.
Just the possibility makes my heart sing, and when I leave the “Back-up Bus” as they call it, I practically dance my way back towards ours.
The lights are all out inside, so it looks like everyone is asleep, even Dallas.
I don’t want to risk waking him or the others, so I move super slowly to push my key into the door. Only my hand never reaches the handle.