chapter sixteen

 

After New York, we tour through Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Florida, where I pick out an Amish blanket after seeing a similar one in the Vail souvenir bags, a variety of seashells, and a stuffed flamingo, respectively. I thought about finding something more meaningful in Florida, but we were in Tampa, not Miami.

I’ll always view Miami as our place. After all, it’s where I fell in love with her.

Every evening at the same time I’ve gotten a text from Vivian letting me know the report is in my inbox. I had to do a little troubleshooting that first day from the road after the system update, but Vivian is doing a great job taking care of the changes in my absence.

Her texts always have some sort of personal question after we get business out of the way. That first night she asked me what it’s like on a tour bus, and I told her to ask me the next day after I slept on a bus with nine other guys. She did ask the next night, and the following night she asked about what goes on backstage. She’s inquired about my duties as a manager, she’s asked me about Vick and what sorts of things she does, and she’s grilled me about what it’s like having a rock star for a brother.

She must know a lot of this considering Vick is her cousin, yet she still comes up with something new every night, and she seems to be eagerly awaiting my answer—unless I’m simply reading too much into it. But every time I text her, whether it’s an immediate response or a little delayed because I’m working, she gets back to me within a few minutes.

Strange for a woman who should be trying to work on her marriage.

It isn’t until we pull into the bus lot in New Orleans that I even think about allowing myself to have some fun for one night. Before we disembark to get ready for tonight’s show, Mark and Ethan storm onto our bus.

“We’re in one of my favorite cities,” Mark announces, “and tomorrow night we’re treating the entire crew to a night off on Bourbon Street. You’re all invited to our private gig, and then we’ll hit up Bourbon for drinks and tits.”

A series of cheers erupts from the crew behind me.

Ethan glances over at Mark and shakes his head. “We can’t go to Larry’s for the tits, man.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow. “The strip club?”

Ethan nods. “Remember what happened last time I was there?”

Mark’s eyes widen as he remembers something, and I wonder what epic story the rest of us are missing.

“My girl would kill me if I went back there,” Ethan says.

Mark laughs. “I seem to remember you calling me a pussy for not wanting to go there when Reese was knocked up with Ashton.”

“Fuck off,” Ethan says. It’s all good-natured fun between the two of them—they’ve been best friends ever since I can remember.

“I just meant these guys can throw beads down to chicks who show their tits from the balcony after our gig,” Mark says, gesturing toward us. He looks back at Ethan and lowers his voice, but I don’t miss it. “Reese would kill me if I stepped foot in a strip club, too.”

I chuckle as I think how much has changed for these guys in the past couple years. Keith nudges me. “Take tomorrow night off, man. I’ll take care of shit here. You deserve it.”

I press my lips together and nod, grateful for the chance to kick back and relax with my brother, his band, and the crew. Keith’s right. I deserve it. I’ve allowed myself to fall into a pit of misery because of Viv, but how many chances does a guy get to party on Bourbon Street with actual rock stars? “I’m in,” I say.

Mark grins at me, and I suddenly feel like I have something to look forward to...after we get through this show, of course.

 

* * *

 

Last night’s show went off without a hitch, and now it’s party time. We’ve just pulled up to the back entrance of the bar where Vail will hold their private performance when Viv’s nightly text comes through. I glance at the screen but don’t have time to respond since I have to help usher the Vail guys into the bar.

Vivian: Today’s numbers are in your inbox.

That’s all it says, and a stab of disappointment settles in my chest as I help form a shield against the line of people waiting for even the tiniest glimpse of Vail in some back alley.

Keith had some of the crew guys bring the basics earlier—Ethan’s drums, a bass guitar for James, Steve’s guitar plus another one for Mark, and the mics. They’re at the mercy of the bar’s sound system, which Mark has told me usually sucks, but I don’t care about any of that shit tonight because Keith’s in charge and I have the night off. As soon as we get inside, I beeline for the bar while the guys do a quick soundcheck with Keith before they start their set.

If tonight’s a night of fun—possibly my only night of fun on this tour—I’m starting it off on the right foot.

Vail’s footing this bill, and we are on Bourbon Street, after all. “What kind of bourbons do you have?” I ask a gorgeous bartender, squinting at the bottles stacked behind her.

“Maker’s Mark, Wild Turkey, and a Woodford Reserve.”

“Which Wild Turkey?” I ask.

She glances back at the bottles. “Kentucky Spirit.”

“Hundred and one proof?”

She nods.

“I’ll take that.” I nod toward my brother. “On his tab.”

She raises a brow like she doesn’t believe me but turns around to grab the bottle anyway. “Ice or neat?”

“Neat. I’m the tour’s co-manager and he’s my brother,” I protest.

Keith slides onto the stool beside me. “He’s not lying, Tina.”

I glance over at him gratefully then turn my attention back to Tina.

“My apologies, sir,” Tina says, and a little tingle of anticipation flits through my chest at the sauciness in her voice as she emphasizes the word sir. She slides the glass over to me, and as I take a sip and allow the liquor to burn its way down my throat and warm my chest, I get the singular feeling that tonight’s going to be a good night.

I get the vibe I could have Tina if I wanted her, but I’m not sure I want to have that sort of fun tonight. I’m just dipping my feet in the water. Tonight I just expect a whole lot of liquor, throwing some beads for tits, and heading back to the bus a little after midnight solo so we can get to Nashville by morning.

Mark introduces himself and the band and then they launch into their first song. I don’t even know what this performance is for, and it isn’t until I’m on my second drink that I feel relaxed enough to abandon all responsibility. I pull my phone out of my pocket to text Viv back.

Me: Two thumbs up. You’re good at what you do.

Her reply comes nearly immediately.

Vivian: Good training, I guess.

I take a bolstering sip of my second tumbler of bourbon before I respond.

Me: I like when you compliment me.

Vivian: I like when you do things worth complimenting.

Me: I’m sorry I kicked you out that morning. I should’ve given you a chance to tell me your side of the story.

Her previous replies came quickly, but this one does not. The bubbles pop up and I anticipate a reply, but then they disappear. I imagine she’s thinking through the best way to respond.

I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I can’t take it back now.

I slide my phone into my pocket and order another drink. I enjoy the rest of Vail’s set. I try to ignore that ghosting feeling like my pocket’s vibrating every two seconds when I know she hasn’t replied yet.

I’m done with my third drink and Vail’s on their last song when she finally replies.

Vivian: We can’t turn back time.

Me: What if we could?

I grab another drink and slide my phone back into my pocket. I make sure there’s nothing I need to help with as the performance ends, and then Cash, one of the single mid-twenty-something crewmembers out for a good time tonight, drags me out to the balcony. A stack of beads sits on a table beside us, and James and Ethan join us out on the balcony along with several other crew members.

“Show us your tits!” Cash yells down to a group of women who don’t look a day over twenty-one.

The girls look at each other and giggle, and then one pulls down the top of her dress over her tits, cups the outside of them with her hands, and shakes them up at us. She’s rewarded with a strand of beads Cash throws down to her.

Not to be shown up, her friends do the same, earning themselves strands of beads as well. We all get a good laugh out of it, and then one of the ladies squeals, “Oh my God, is that Ethan Fuller from Vail?”

He waves and tosses more beads down, and the girls squeal with delight as they fight each other to get the ones he touched. He heads back inside.

“Is the whole band in there?” one them yells up.

Music pumps from everywhere, so we can barely hear them. “Yeah,” I yell back. I take a sip of my bourbon.

“Let us up!” they yell.

I shrug. “I can’t.”

“Then you guys come down here,” one of them yells as she tries to look seductive.

I laugh even as I consider it for a brief moment. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time, and I find a text from Viv waiting for me.

Vivian: What good would it do?

What good would what do? I’m a little toasted if I’m being honest, and I squint at my phone as I read her previous text. Something about not being able to turn back time.

Me: I don’t know. I’d be honest. You’d be honest. I wonder how much it would have changed.

Vivian: Maybe everything. Maybe nothing.

Me: I can’t honestly believe it would be nothing.

Her reply doesn’t come right away, and Mark appears on the balcony beside me. The women start screaming when they spot him. He throws some beads down to them and waves. I get in on the action and throw some down to a chick who makes eye contact with me as she licks her fingers before she pinches her nipples. More women walk by, more tits are shown, and for a few brief moments, I just have some fun. I forget about the misery I’ve fallen into. I bond with my brother and the other guys on the balcony as we laugh, drink, and toss beads down to the women walking on the street below us.

“Anyone want to go for a walk down Bourbon?” Mark asks after a while.

I nod toward the screaming women on the street below us. “You’re asking for it.”

“I’ve always been a glutton for punishment.”

“What would your wife say?” I ask.

He shrugs. “She’d tell me not to get arrested.”

I raise a brow. “Then let’s go do legal things.”

Cash laughs as he butts in on our conversation. “That doesn’t sound like very much fun now, does it?”

I check my phone one last time before we head down to the street with Mark and Ethan’s security detail following us closely.

Vivian: Have you been drinking?

Me: I’m on Bourbon Street with a bunch of rock stars. Does that answer your question?

She doesn’t answer, and I’m too drunk at this point to care that my words might have made me come off like a total dick.

We walk, we drink, and we stay out of trouble.

For the most part.

At one point, I turn around and spot Cash moving toward a deserted doorway. Everything’s just a little blurry from all the bourbon, and I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I try to get my eyes to focus. I swear I see the woman getting down on her knees and unzipping Cash’s jeans as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

That can’t possibly be what I saw.

Can it?

The rest of the night fades away from me, and I wake up the next morning on the tour bus with an epic hangover. I have no idea how I got here, and I can’t seem to remember the last text I sent to Viv. The last thing I remember is watching Cash get a public blow job from what had to be a hooker.

I shake the image out of my head.

I’m sorely regretting all the bourbon this morning the searing pain in my skull reminds me I’m not as young as I used to be.

I finally pull out my phone to check the last text I got from Viv, and I’m somewhere between horrified and mortified at what I find.

She never responded to my last text.

Fuck.

Just when things seemed like they were going well for us—even if it was strictly professional—I go and fuck it up by bringing up the past. And the worst part? I don’t even remember doing it.

Not only do I have a hangover, but I feel like a royal asshole...and I think I might still be a little drunk.

I start by typing out an apology, but I wait to send it. It’s a little before four back in LA, and it’s too goddamn early to be awake here, too.

I force myself up so I can use the restroom, nausea climbing up my throat with every move I make. The bus is quiet. Everyone must still be asleep after our night out, and when I glance out the window, I find we’re still in New Orleans.

But it’s just our bus. The other buses and trucks in our lot are gone.

Oh fuck.

That can’t be good.

We’re supposed to be in Nashville—nearly an eight-hour drive from where we are.

When I emerge from the restroom and work my way toward the forward cabin for some ibuprofen and water, Keith is pushing Cash onto the bus. Cash looks even rougher than I feel.

“Pull a stunt like that again and you’re gone,” Keith says roughly. He’s been nothing but nice to me since the day I met him, so I’m surprised at his tone.

“What happened?” I ask.

Cash looks down at the ground in clear mortification.

“Fucker got himself arrested for solicitation,” Keith says. “Fucked up our entire schedule and better fucking pray we get there on time to get set up or his ass is headed home.”

My headache pounds a little harder even though I suddenly feel sober. I guess nothing sobers a guy up like hearing someone in his crew was arrested last night

Keith storms to the back of the bus and slams the door to the small back room, a private area set up with a couple desks for working and a little bit of storage space. The bus starts moving a few minutes later, way too many hours behind schedule.

I finally send the text when it’s about seven in Los Angeles as I’m sitting on the couch in the forward section of the cabin. The bus is still quiet as most of the men have remained in their bunks for the long trip to Nashville, but I prefer the natural sunlight in the front of the bus.

Me: I’m sorry about what I said last night. I don’t even remember texting you. It was kind of a crazy night.

Her reply comes quickly.

Vivian: I don’t want you to be sorry, but something you said last night stuck with me.

Me: Which part?

Vivian: The part about being honest the first time around. We both should have been.

I go for broke.

Me: Want honesty? I can’t stop thinking about you. I look forward to your messages every single day, Vivian. They’re the highlight of my day in this lonely existence.

She doesn’t reply, and I’m sure I’ve overstepped my bounds. I shouldn’t be flirting with her over text message. I’m worried she’s just turning around and giving her husband everything I wish could be mine.

I don’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because my long day is just getting started.

I meet with Keith at the back of the bus, and we rearrange some of our plans to accommodate the lost time due to Cash’s arrest. Once we arrive in Nashville, I head immediately over to the Omni, where the four members of Vail plus the entire crew will be staying after tonight’s show, and check us all in. Keith and I will be sharing a room, but it’s still more privacy than I’ve had on the bus. We’ve stayed in a few hotels when we’re in a single city for multiple nights, but honestly it makes my job so much easier when we just stay on the bus. When we’re in hotels, I have to ensure everyone gets to and from the venue on time plus settle all the accommodation bills. Between the band, their families, and the entire crew, even with crew sharing rooms, I’ve got upwards of twenty rooms to cover and fifty-four people to transport.

Thank God for Keith, who must be the most organized person on the planet, and Vick, who pitches in wherever she can. I set each key in the envelopes Keith gave me printed with names of who will occupy the room and head back to the bus lot.

I check in with my brother first. I knock on his bus door, and he opens it and motions me to come in. He slides into his chair at his table where he puts his glasses on and taps a few keys to finish whatever he’s working on. He looks more like a businessman than a rock star as he works in this atmosphere, but I know when he takes the stage tonight, he’ll be one hundred percent rocker again.

“I have your key for the Omni tonight,” I say, setting the envelope on the table. I move to head to the next bus, but his voice stops me.

“Take a seat,” he says.

I sit on the couch. “Where are Reese and Ashton?”

“Playdate with Adelaide on Steve’s bus.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

I lift a shoulder. “It’s hard work managing you four assholes and the entire crew.”

He chuckles. “Don’t I know it.” He shakes his head. “Especially when assholes get arrested. And it takes time to get used to sleeping in a bunk, and I know you’ve been out of sorts for a while now, but it’s not just all that.”

I clear my throat. “Why did you choose Vivian as my temp?”

He blinks but doesn’t otherwise react. “I wanted you two to figure your shit out.”

“She slept with me when she had a husband back home.”

He nods. “I’m not justifying that or defending what she did. But you were never going to call her. The two of you are adults and you’re acting like children.”

“So you just decide to play God and toss me into the pit with her?”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” He shuts his laptop lid. “I decided to do you a solid, man. You may be a douchebag but you’re still my little brother.” He stands and grabs a bottle of water from his mini-fridge. He tosses one to me, too.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I say wryly as I catch the bottle.

“That’s what big brothers do.” He leans against the counter. “Look, Brian. I asked you on this tour to help get your mind off all the shit you’ve been going through. You’ve had a rough couple months, but it’s okay to pull your head out of your ass now. It’s okay to smile once in a while and it’s okay to have a good time.”

“I had fun last night on Bourbon,” I counter.

Mark grins. “Didn’t we all? But you’re a single, good-looking dude with a killer gene pool.” He shoots me a smug look, as if to say one of my only redeeming qualities is the fact that he’s my brother. “Live it up a little. Have some fun. Bang some babes. Get fucked up while Keith’s here to pick up your slack.”

“I love how the rock star is schooling me in how to live like a rock star.”

He laughs. “You could learn a thing or two.”

“I don’t want to bang some babes, Mark. I just want Viv.”

He twists his lips at me. “Okay. Then you have two choices. Talk to her and figure it out or chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on.”

“I can’t talk to her when we’re two thousand miles apart.” I glance out the window as I think of the distance separating us and how much time we’ve both wasted.

“I gave you two fucking weeks to talk to her, man. You didn’t?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any idea what to say. I worked within three feet of her for a month and we both kept things strictly professional except for the first day when she slapped me across the face.”

Mark’s lips tip up in an obvious smile he doesn’t do a good job of hiding. “She slapped you?”

I lift a shoulder. “I probably had it coming.”

He laughs at that. “Definitely. I just want you to be happy. I want you to find what I have. Everyone deserves that.”

I press my lips together.

“Even you,” he says, and I know he doesn’t mean it as an insult but rather a gentle reminder that despite my history, he can tell I’m a changed man.

I stand. “Thanks for the pep talk. I have to deliver hotel keys.”

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

I nod. “I’ll think about it.” But I can’t do anything from the road, so the conversation I need to have with her is going to have to wait until I get back.