Chapter 9 #2
"She doesn't like me," I say. Not a complaint. Just a fact worth naming.
"She doesn't like the situation," Cami says. "There's a difference. Travis pulling out of his label infrastructure to work with you independently—that changed the power structure of this tour in ways Katelyn is still recalibrating. It's not personal. It's territorial."
"That doesn't make it easier to share a bus."
"No," she agrees. "But it makes it navigable. You're not her enemy. You're just the variable she didn't account for." A pause. "She'll come around. Or she won't. Either way, you don't need her to like you. You just need her to do her job."
My nerves are all frayed and crazy as I approach the massive buses with Sound Bar's logo custom-painted on the side. There's no hiding who we are with these vehicles that would rival any eighteen-wheeler's size. We are riding in huge, moving billboards—marketing on wheels at its finest.
One of the crew members rushes to help me with my luggage. Katie brought me today, and she's been my rock. Even when I wanted her to turn around and take me back home, she told me to grow a pair and get over it. She's so right.
The roadie takes my luggage and my acoustic guitar to my bus, and I follow him to check out the inside. As soon as I step inside, I understand exactly what Cami tried to describe to me. This isn't a bus—this is an elegant home on wheels.
The slider is fully extended while the buses are parked, providing much more space than the Greyhound Bus I had pictured.
The floors in the main living area are slate tile, the walls are tongue-and-groove wood, and the couches are soft, supple leather.
The compact kitchen has every appliance and amenity I have at home.
The small refrigerator and all the cabinets are fully stocked with every type of food or drink I could want.
Walking toward the back of the bus, I pass the small half bath before I come to the first bedroom door, where the roadie left my things.
I'm amazed to find it's expertly decorated in deep, rich reds and browns, with a cream accent.
The bedroom has a large closet, plenty of room for all my shoes, and a small sitting area. Behind another door is a full bathroom.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
After I stow my purse, I rush back out to finish my exploration of the bus. Not expecting anyone else to be on the bus yet, I'm not paying attention when I fly into the hallway—and right into Travis. The collision is so unexpected that I don't have time to catch myself as I bounce off him.
He bends at the waist, wraps his arms securely around me, and pulls me into his chest, saving me from hitting the floor. We're both shocked beyond words and stand motionless for several seconds, his arms locked around my waist, my arms locked around his neck, and both of us breathing heavily.
A throat clearing behind Travis seems to snap us both out of our trance, and we jump apart like two teenagers who've just been caught by their parents.
Straightening my shirt and picking invisible lint from my clothes, I refuse to look up and meet her eyes just yet.
I know who it is, and I've just realized how our "embrace" must have looked.
"Katelyn." Travis gives her a single nod. His voice holds no hint of embarrassment, while I can feel the heat in my face, burning my skin from the inside out. "You need something?"
"Yes," she replies sharply. "I need you two to take whatever this is to your bus and let me in my room."
Travis turns to face her completely, effectively shielding me from her, and places his hands on his hips in an obviously pissed-off body posture.
"I suggest you change your tone with me right now, Katelyn." He emphasizes her name. "There's nothing to 'take to my bus.' We just literally smacked into each other, and I almost knocked her out before we've even left the parking lot. I caught her before she fell."
"Oh," Katelyn says, noticeably and adequately chastised. "Well, I hope neither of you is injured. Do I need to call to have you checked out before we leave?"
"No. We're fine. Thanks for asking." Travis is still pissed off. No doubt about it.
"Travis, let's move so Katelyn can get to her room and unpack," I suggest.
Travis takes an extra few seconds to stare Katelyn down before he looks over his shoulder at me. "Good idea. Why don't you come check out my bus? You can hang out with us for a while. The ladies of Fireflies will be there too. You'll have plenty of time on this bus later."
Not feeling like I really have a choice, I nod in agreement and follow Travis off the bus.
This will be a long five months at this rate.
My bus is nice. Travis' bus is extravagant.
The bedrooms are in the back of the bus, but the living area is arranged differently.
He has a huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, with every game console known to civilized man.
His movie collection is extensive, and there are rows and rows of notebooks on the bookshelves.
As I run my fingers across the spiraled metal coils, he simply says, "For writing songs."
I nod. "That makes sense. A lot of time on the road to come up with the next hit song, right?"
"Something like that," he says. "Inspiration helps."
"I don't know how you come up with the lyrics to your songs. They're just perfect. They flow, one word leads into the meaning of the next, and you tell an entire story within a matter of minutes. It's amazing," I say. I still feel star-struck around him sometimes.
"That's the best compliment I've ever heard, Andi. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. I put a lot of thought into my words and the meaning of my songs."
"My pleasure," I reply. "I honestly mean it, by the way."
Kale boards the bus, walks straight to me, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. "I'm so glad you're joining us, Andi. The road gets very lonely sometimes. I will consider sharing you with Travis, but only after I've had you first."
Laughing at his crazy antics, I playfully shove him away from me. "Shut up, Kale! You should've brought your blow-up girlfriend if you get that lonely."
Travis and Kale both laugh heartily, and Travis points at Kale. "I told you she wouldn't put up with your shit." Turning his gaze to me, Travis explains. "Kale thought you'd be too sweet to put him in his place."
"Oh, please. I'm at home in a gym full of muscular, sweaty boxers who all thought they were God's only gift to women. I face down board meetings, corporate donors, and music moguls before breakfast. There's nothing I haven't heard by now. I can take care of myself," I assert.
"You're just full of surprises, Andi. I can't wait to see what else you have in store for us," Kale says with a wink before he moves on to his bedroom.
Mike and Drew are next to board, and Cami, Leslie, Jade, and Crystal quickly follow them.
We all find a seat in the living room, and Travis turns on the TV.
We settle into a comfortable, friendly conversation about how we're bound to get on each other's nerves in such close quarters, and I feel myself relaxing.
"So," Travis instructs, "if you need time away from everyone, there's no shame in retreating to your bedroom and locking the door.
If we're all riding on the same bus and you want quiet, any bedroom on the other buses is fair game, except the crew bus.
This is the only way we've been able to keep fights to a minimum.
We usually congregate on one bus right after the show, but the drivers make a scheduled stop every few hours to stretch or swap.
That's your window to break off and get back to your own room if you need it. "
Everyone agrees to the rules Travis gives the group, except for one.
Pick up after yourself. No strangers in living quarters.
Don't steal labeled food. Formal meet-and-greets are scheduled by Katelyn, and backstage passes are for family and close friends only.
Use practical jokes sparingly. Bow down and kiss Travis's feet.
That last one got a lot of empty plastic cups thrown at his head. Then we all had to clean it up. It was so worth it, though. I'm already falling in love with my new little family, and I'm looking forward to getting this tour underway.
The bus door closes, and our caravan officially hits the road. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I'm way too happy to find a text message already waiting from Luke.
Left yet?
Just now.
Be careful. Have fun. I love you.
I love you, too. Do I get to see you on Valentine's?
Not sure yet, babe. I hope so.
I'll book as soon as you tell me to. I miss you.
I miss you, too. Gotta go—I'm back in the ring.
Knock 'em out for me!
Everything I do is for you.
"That must be your man," Cami states. "That smile on your face can only be from one thing."
Everyone’s already ribbing me about sexting with Luke, when we're not even out of Atlanta yet. "We don't sext," I state emphatically.
"Damn, Andi. That's cold to just cut him off like that," Mike accuses me.
"We FaceTime. We're both visual creatures. We have to see it," I retort with a straight face.
Mike's face turns bright red, and he struggles for a comeback. I’m unable to hold my laughter back any longer, and I have tears running down my cheeks within seconds.
As I look around, still highly amused at getting the best of Mike, I notice Travis's demeanor.
He's leaned back in his chair, slightly slumped and obviously comfortable.
His hazel eyes have darkened to green and are narrowed at me, but they're dancing with blatant humor.
One hand rests at his cheek, his fingers casually propping his head up. His lips slowly curl into a smile.
The tour has officially started. We're finally on the road.
This is happening.