Chapter 4

Haley

“I want texts, emails, phone calls, every day,” Jenna says, so excited I’m scared she’ll drive the car into oncoming traffic. “And you better come prepared. I want diary-level insight. I want to feel like I’m there with you. How it smells, how it sounds, what it’s like. I wanna know about the crowds, what it must be like to stand in front of so many people. You better promise to give me all that.”

“I promise.”

“You better,” she repeats, as she pulls the car off the road and into the big parking lot. “Oh my God! Look at how many people are there! Three tour buses! It’s just like in the movies! HolyshitthisisamazingohmygodIcan’tbelievethis—”

Her voice gets faster and more high-pitched until I have to squint and hunch my shoulders to stop my eardrums from bursting. She brings the car to a halt and looks around her like she just drove through a portal to Neverland.

“This is amazing!” she squeals again, bobbing up and down in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for giving me a lift, Jenna,” I say, opening the door. She walks with me to the back of the car and we both pull my luggage from the trunk.

“Well, I guess this is it,” she says, when I’m standing there with my guitar case in one hand and my luggage in the other.

“I’ll tell you everything. I promise,” I repeat with a smile. She hugs me tightly, and I try not to cry. Not because I’m going to miss Jenna (though I will), but because I’m about to embark on a three week tour of my own personal hell. And on top of that, I’ll still have to perform with a smile on my face at every show. “And hey, good luck with that audition.”

Jenna waves it away. “I’m more nervous about your tour than the audition, to be honest.”

“Still, I really hope you get it.”

“Me too,” she says, stepping back to the side of the car and opening the door. “See you in three weeks, Haley. Go give them something to remember!”

“I’ll try flashing my breasts.”

“Doesn’t Lexi already do that in her show?”

I’m still laughing as she reverses her car back out of the lot, and then I watch as she concentrates so much on waving at me that it’s a miracle she re-joins the flow of traffic without crashing. I take a deep breath, turn around, and start walking toward the buses.

My band’s already there. Paula, the drummer, and Aaron, the bassist, are loading bags into the open bay doors underneath the bus. Brian, my guitarist, is having a cigarette. He comes to meet me and takes my luggage.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Can you believe this is really happening?” he says, his voice nowhere near as calm and collected as he looks.

“Nope. Why are there three buses? And so many people. Is there another band?”

Brian laughs. “Us, Lexi, and her band.”

“Lexi gets a whole coach to herself?”

“Could her ego fit in otherwise?”

We laugh and Brian lifts my luggage into the storage bay. I put my guitar case in and take a moment to soak it all up.

“Sorry I’m late,” I apologize. “Traffic. I hope I didn’t keep everyone waiting.”

“You’re always late,” Brian replies, teasing, before adding, “but some people are always later.”

I turn my head toward wherever he’s looking and see a black Mercedes with tinted windows pull up. A big guy who looks like a bear in a suit jumps out of the passenger side and runs to one of the rear doors. He opens it and stands upright, his eyes engaging in their usual rapid-scan for paparazzi and rabid fans. But he’ll find none here.

Her leg comes out first, long and slender, a practiced motion, and then the rest of her. I do a double take. She’s dressed like a valley girl who just got a promotion. White jeans, red high-tops, and a turquoise off-the-shoulder t-shirt. If it wasn’t for the big sunglasses and the destroy-every-thing-in-its-path walk, she’d almost be approachable.

Seconds later, I realize how wrong that idea is. She makes a beeline for me and Brian, entourage of black-suited bodyguards and slightly less attractive hangers-on following her in almost perfect V-formation. She takes her glasses off slowly.

“So you’ve finally got your big break. Tagging along behind me. Scared, little girl?”

“What’s there to be scared of?” I reply, noticing Brian is frozen in place. “I’m doing what I love, what I do best.”

Lexi laughs as if I’m a pet that just did something cute.

“I forgot, you’re all about ‘real’ music, aren’t you? So long as you get those audiences warmed up for the main event, we won’t have a problem.”

“Just make sure you don’t get them cold again, Lexi.”

She takes a step closer to me and I noticed her bodyguards shift closer. Are they supposed to protect her – or me? Maybe they know something I don’t.

Her voice goes cruel and sharp, all the teasing gone. “Let me just remind you quickly why you’re here. It’s because you’re too small to do it without trying to catch some of my glow. It’s because you fucked a guy who took you this far. It’s because Brando wanted to win a bet – to win me. You’re an open-mic also-ran, a bargaining chip, and a third wheel. We both know you don’t belong here, so just try your best, and try not to fuck up my shows too badly, okay?” She leans back and flashes me that sexy mega-watt grin, sliding her sunglasses back on.

Now I know what the bodyguards know: Lexi has the consistent, indefatigable habit of making you want to slap her. Maybe it’s her superpower.

Before I can decide whether I want to hit her or give her a detailed, expletive-ridden account of her many flaws as a person, she’s buried in her entourage and heading away toward the other bus.

“Uh. We should get going,” Brian says, his voice a little shaky.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, as we climb onto the bus. “You’re not scared of her, are you?”

He laughs nervously, then changes the subject clumsily.

“Check this out! TV, PS4, awesome stereo,” he says, leading me toward the back where Paula and Aaron are already booting up the game console. “And a fully stocked fridge! This bus is pretty much better than most of the apartments I’ve lived in.”

“Even those beds?” I say, nodding at the cramped bunks.

He leans in and sniffs. “Yeah.”

I punch his shoulder. “Eww, gross! I don’t even get why we have a bus though, aren’t we just going to stay in hotels?”

“Most of the time,” a voice behind me says, unmistakeably strong and commanding. I spin around and see him, stepping onto the front of the bus and making his way back to me. The very sight of him getting me hot for too many reasons to pick one. “But there are a couple of dates that are going to be a squeeze without it. Better this than sleeping on a plane.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask tightly, as he nods Brian away toward the back of the bus.

“What did you think I’d do? Follow you on a bicycle?”

“You don’t need to be on the bus with us,” I say in a childish voice.

Brando draws himself close, squeezing beside me in the slim aisle between the beds.

“I’m supposed to make sure everything is alright, that everyone’s happy. I can only do that when I’m on the ground with them.”

The bus lurches forward, and Brando falls against me, my face almost in his neck, my hands raising up to hold his chest, his arm grabbing my back to stop me from falling.

Can hate make you want to fuck someone even more? Because I’ve never wanted to tear Brando’s shirt off more than I do now, in this cramped, moving bus, and ride the weirdly thrilling mix of emotions I’m feeling by holding him to me.

“Well it’s not alright,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as he pulls himself back away from me far slower than he could, “and I’m definitely not happy.”

He leans in close, his lips against my ear.

“Then it’s my job to make you happy.”

I shove him back as suddenly and as reluctantly as I shove the hotness I’m feeling back down deep inside of me.

“I’ll never be happy with you, Brando. Never.”

I spin on my heel and storm off toward the back of the bus. Because right now, that’s as far away as I can get.