“Okay,” Alex said, looking from Fran to me. “How long have you two been fucking?”
“About two months,” I said with a shrug. Alex’s eyes widened and he glanced at Nick, Dan, and Mark, who’d huddled together at the other end of the rec room.
“Seriously?” Alex looked appalled for a moment and then started to laugh. “You have got to be the two quietest fucking…” he began laughing harder.
“Fuckers?” Fran suggested, looking oh-so-innocent. I started chuckling in spite of myself, and in a minute, everyone was laughing—even Ron, who had spent the last thirty minutes looking stern and disapproving.
Nick walking in on us in the supply closet at the venue had—of course—broken up the little two-person party we’d had going on. Nobody in Molly Riot went out to sign autographs; instead we’d all piled on the bus, most of us still buzzing from alcohol or other things, and the word had circulated.
“Okay, okay,” Alex said finally as the laughter began to peter off. “Do you guys think you can keep it quiet…” his lips twitched and he had to take a quick breath to keep from erupting into laughter again. “At least until the end of the tour and whatever else?”
“I don’t see why we should have to,” Fran said with a shrug, and I glanced at her; I wasn’t sure that I was in complete agreement with her position there. “I mean—now that you guys all know about it, what’s the point?”
“I just mean from the press perspective,” Alex said, raising his hands to forestall any other comments from anyone else. “I don’t want this to turn into some stupid, schlocky tabloid bullshit thing.”
“Why not?” Nick smirked. “It’s worked out for us well whenever that’s happened in the past.”
“That’s exactly why,” Alex said sharply. “I don’t want our band—or Juniper Woolf for that matter—to become that band that’s constantly in the media for the wrong reasons.”
“The press doesn’t know about it yet,” I pointed out, suddenly feeling tired again. “It’s not like Fran or I are going to go out of our way to get caught by a journalist or something.”
“Security does a pretty good job of keeping the press confined to the ‘approved’ areas,” Jaime pointed out. But from the way that the other members of Juniper Woolf were looking at their lead singer, I could only guess that they were going to be having a pretty lengthy conversation later on—once they were able to get some space.
“Journos sneak into hotels,” Ron pointed out. “They stake places out.”
“Why the hell should we be secretive about it?” In a matter of moments, I had gone from—if not being against Fran’s idea of openness—wanting to take it a bit slow to perversely feeling like my own band were trying to cock-block me. They kind of are, I thought. They want you to keep shit even more on the DL than you were before—fuck that. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m going to do a press conference tomorrow and try to bend Fran over the podium or something but it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.”
“Just—keep it as private as you can,” Ron suggested, looking from Fran to me. “You’re not doing anything wrong but you are doing something that people are going to want to talk about when they know it’s happening.”
“Jules—are you really ready to get a hundred questions about what you and Fran are doing together?” I looked over at Nick; he smiled sympathetically, and I thought to myself that of all the members in either band, he probably understood the situation the best. After all, he’d hooked up with Olivia on our last tour—technically before the tour had started, but they’d hashed out their relationship on the bus together while going from one city to another.
“No,” I admitted. I glanced at Fran from the corner of my eye. “Are you?” She met my gaze and then shrugged.
“Not really,” she said, though I could see there was another answer she wanted to give. “I mean, I don’t want drama any more than anyone else in here does. I just…think it’s stupid to sneak around when we’ve been going at it for two months.”
“We’ve got maybe three weeks left of this tour,” Ron said, looking from Fran to me. “Then you guys are all going to be back home, and working on the EP you’re putting out together.”
“What’s your point, Ronnie?” I crossed my arms over my chest. My groin ached. Having Nick walk in on us had gotten rid of my erection pretty fast—but that didn’t mean it hadn’t ever happened. I wanted more than anything to get a little privacy and take care of my problem; and the prospect of sitting in the rec room of the bus for another hour, debating whether or not Fran and I were doing the right thing, was like being tortured with paper cuts.
“Keep it to yourselves as much as possible,” Ron said. “If you get caught after taking the normal level of precautions you have been—whatever. But don’t take this as license to just…”
“Indiscriminately fuck anywhere they feel like?” I snorted at Nick’s comment.
“Just do what you can to keep from having to do another press conference to explain how you two hooked up and whether you’re engaged or not,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “Because I don’t think either of you would enjoy dealing with the drama of that any more than I would.”
“It’d probably boost sales, though,” Mark said, grinning.
“Enough,” Alex said. “We’ll talk about it more later. Right now, I just want to get in my bunk and talk to my girlfriend. Who’s on the same page?” He looked around the room and one by one, the members of both my band and Fran’s nodded. Alex stood and stalked out of the rec room, towards the bunks, and I watched as the rest of my band mates left, too. By tomorrow they’ll be giving me all kinds of shit, I thought bleakly, reaching into my pocket for a pack of cigarettes. I shifted in my seat, looking over at Fran, who’d gone quiet—but who hadn’t left with everyone else. Ron had found his way to the office he kept on the bus, Hannah had gone off somewhere, too, and Jaime, Nate, and Kieran as well.
“What do you think of this shit?” I shook a cig free of the pack and found my lighter in another pocket.
“I think I’m never fucking anyone in a supply closet again,” Fran said, turning towards me. “Got another?” I nodded and handed her the pack and the lighter.
“You know what I mean, though,” I said, taking a drag of smoke into my lungs and holding it for a second before I blew it out.
“Yeah,” Fran said, lighting up. “I know.” She sighed, exhaling smoke in a gush around her face. “I just…is right now really the time you want to be talking about whatever we want to call this?” I considered that question.
“Not really,” I admitted. “But I figure you’ve been trying to talk about it for a week or two now; we might as well get it over with, since everyone knows about it at this point.”
“We’ve got two more weeks of touring,” Fran said, taking another quick drag of smoke. “And then maybe a week off and then we’ll head into the studio to make the EP.”
“Maybe we can get them to bump it up to a month,” I said, smiling slightly.
“Even then…” Fran shrugged. “What do you want this to be?” She looked me dead in the eyes.
“I know I’m not really into sneaking around if we don’t have to—not when we’ve already been caught,” I said. I pulled some smoke into my lungs. “But I also don’t want to be tabloid darlings.”
“Me either,” Fran said, sighing. “I just want…” she shrugged again. “I don’t know what I want.”
“You like having sex with me,” I said, making it almost a question—but not quite.
“Well duh,” Fran said, smirking. “If I didn’t I wouldn’t keep doing it.” I snickered.
“You would because—remember—there’s no one else you can fuck on this bus, really.”
“I have Angelo,” Fran pointed out tartly.
“Right,” I said, flicking the ash on the end of my cigarette into the ashtray next to me. “Anyway—you like fucking me. I like fucking you. We don’t hate each other’s guts anymore.”
“I don’t think we actually ever did, if you really think about it,” Fran said. She leaned across the space between us and flicked the tip of her cigarette into the tray. “But yeah. We don’t hate each other.” She smiled slightly. “I actually enjoy spending time talking to you. I actually like you. Weird, huh?”
“Who’d have thought?” I shook my head. “What do you want this to be? Just having sex and a good time—or something more than that?”
“I asked you first,” Fran said, raising an eyebrow. I continued smoking for a moment, trying to find a way to answer without actually answering.
“I don’t know,” I admitted finally. “I like how things are right now.” Fran scratched at her scalp with her free hand.
“But you like me,” Fran said. “Beyond the sex part of things.” I pressed my lips together.
“I do,” I said, nodding.
“We probably shouldn’t talk about this right now, huh?” Fran smiled wryly. I sighed.
“Probably not,” I agreed. “Just thought I’d try.”
“Better wait until the actual tour is over,” Fran suggested. “See if we feel…certain, or whatever.” I finished my cigarette and stubbed it out.
“I’m going to my bunk,” I said, giving Fran a wry smile. “You know how it is.”
“I’ll say ‘hi’ to Angelo for you,” she told me, giving me a little grin.