Chapter Five

Indie

 

 

The guys from both bands scattered like rats on a ship when we got back to the arena. It didn’t bother me. I knew they had things to do before the show tonight. Soon soundcheck raged in the background as I slipped out to my bus to change clothes.

I’d been in the same shorts and T-shirt since before the sun had come up and honestly, I wanted to shower now instead of later. Later my bus might be busy and loud, depending on where the guys land and where Dad was staying. Or it could be moving. It was possible that showering in the venue would’ve been smarter with better water pressure, but the bus offered privacy.

It didn’t take me long to get clean and dressed in some fresh clothing: a skirt and tank top with sandals. Then I headed back into the venue. I really wanted to see Dad and the guys before they went on.

By the sound of the crowd and the music as I stepped into the arena, Courting Chaos was already on stage. That was good. I could avoid them. But if the opening act was on stage, Dad would be in the dressing room.

“Hey, Manny,” I said as I passed Kissing Cinder’s lead singer.

“How’s it going so far?” he asked as he stopped in front of me.

“Great. Tired. Had an early flight. You ready to go on?”

“Oh, honey,” he said putting his hands on his hips, “I’m always ready. But Vince is in the dressing room if you’re looking for him. I’ll be right back.”

“See ya.” I gave him a quick wave.

I took the next right and almost ran right into a cluster of girls, their voices a combination of chatter and giggle. It was difficult to make out what they were saying, though I did hear one high-pitched comment. Something about “fucking Courting Chaos.” I wondered if she meant the whole band, as in they’d run a train on her, or if there was a particular one she had her eye on.

I shouldn’t have cared which.

Then I mentally kicked myself because even though Cross and I had had a rough meeting, we’d talked a little at lunch. Cross absolutely didn’t seem like man-whore rocker stereotype. I’d seen it before.

There was more than one type after all. There were the ones who fucked anything that got near them. Pretty literally. Then you also had the ones who brought their families on tour. You had ones like my dad who were somewhere in between. I knew he hooked up with women on tour, even though I wished not to know that. But when he had a girlfriend, or a wife, he was as loyal as they come. Obviously, he brought family on the road. I’d spent my summers with him every year since I’d been eight and as the only kid back then, I had a nanny to myself until I was fourteen and convinced Dad I didn’t need one anymore.

Cross seemed like he’d be closer to my dad’s type. One thing I tried not to do was judge those young women. They were free to do what they liked, but as I looked back at them again, I realized how young they looked. Given how gross some of the roadies, venue workers, even sometimes the bands, could be backstage, I really hoped they knew what they were doing and wouldn’t be taken advantage of.

Man, I really hoped the one on the right only looked fifteen.

I rapped my fist against the Dad’s dressing room door three times before cracking it open.

“Everybody decent?” I called in.

“No one’s ever decent,” Dad called back.

So I pushed all the way in and closed the door behind me. “I mostly meant decent enough so I wouldn’t see anything that’ll scar me for life.”

Dad chuckled, then leaned over to grab a bottle of water. This was pre-show hydration. They had a system.

“Water?” he asked.

I shook my head. Instead, I wanted to ask him about something that I’d considered while in the shower. Dating Cross wasn’t something I’d seriously ever think would happen, but being attracted to him at lunch made me curious as to how Dad would react if I dated a musician. And honestly, it was probably only a matter of time before I did date a guy in a band. Kind of seemed inevitable.

“How freaked out would you be if I dated someone in a band?” I asked.

Dad froze with his water bottle against his lips, then slowly lowered it. “How big of a band?” He gave me that Dad appraisal as he spoke. Like he was trying to figure out who I was talking about, though I wasn’t referring to anyone specific. Or at least I’d keep telling myself that.

“Not as big as yours.”

“Ugh.” He scrubbed a hand up and down his face. “Indie, can’t you find a doctor or something?”

I gave him a big smile. “They say girls look for men like their father. But really, I’m just asking. No one specific. Let’s call it curiosity.”

He leaned over and clutched his stomach. “I think lunch is come back to haunt me.”

“Stop it.” I gave his leg a kick.

He stood back up and took another long drink of his water, buying himself a little time as I continued to stare at him. “So, a guitar player?”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The politics among the guys in a band were hilarious. The idea that your personality determined which instrument you played always cracked me up. Not to mention the way they each thought they were more together than the other. And since I was doing this out of curiosity only, I’d use Cross as the example.

“Let’s say drummer.”

He groaned and dropped on the couch next to me. I slid away from him a little and turned, folding one leg onto the couch while leaving the other foot on the floor, just to be able to watch him while we talked.

“A drummer? Are you insane? Drummers are the worst.”

I cocked my head to the side and tried not to laugh.

“Drummers are assholes,” he continued.

“I resent that.” Cody surprised me by coming out of the shower area. Thank goodness he had pants on, but he was shirtless as he used a towel to dry his hair. For someone who was old enough to be my father, he was in really good shape. They all were. “Drummers keep the band straight,” he said ticking items off with his fingers. “And are basically the boss of everyone. Obviously, they’re the best musicians out of the group.”

Dad snorted. “You wish.”

“So why are we disparaging drummers?” Cody asked.

“Indie is thinking about dating one,” Dad said like I wasn’t even in the room anymore.

A silent conversation passed between the two of them. They’d done this since I was little and knowing each other as well as they did, I was convinced they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

I had something similar with my best friends, Maggie and Bellamy. Maggie I met in high school and Bellamy was our roommate when we got to college. Best roommate matchup ever.

“Drummers are assholes, Indie,” Cody said suddenly. A laugh, more like a cackle, burst out of me. “They’re basically the worst. No talent hacks that only care about themselves. You can’t take them anywhere. No manners. They’re basically heathens who need to be caged. Steer clear.”

“You guys are jerks,” I said, still laughing.

“But he’s a bigger jerk,” Dad said, pointing at Cody to drive his point home.

“Don’t you guys, I don’t know, have something to do right now?” I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture of Cody, shirtless and disheveled. But he had the waist of his jeans pulled away from his body and was looking down with a hand just inside. Adjusting himself or something.

So gross.

“Hey,” he said, snapping his head up when he heard the shutter click.

“Just in case I need blackmail later.”

Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door and a woman poked her head inside. “Five minutes, guys,” she said.

Dad kissed the side of my head, then he and Cody left the room. Cody was just pulling a shirt over his head when they disappeared through the door. They had a pre-show ritual that I didn’t need to be a part of.

I grabbed my purse, checking to make sure I had a pair of the custom molded earplugs my dad had made for me. They were the same kind the guys wore to protect their hearing onstage. I’d told him I could just use the regular store-bought rubbery ones, but he looked at me in horror. Those were not good enough for his little girl.

When I left the dressing room, my part of the hall was empty, but I could still hear those young women still tittering around the corner. Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and pushed forward. But I didn’t expect to find the cause of their yelping to be because two members of Courting Chaos had stopped to talk to them.

How had those girls even gotten backstage? No one around seemed to notice them there while they were quite noticeable. Yet they didn’t have passes, even temporary ones.

Even worse, the big one, Eric Drinkswine, was eating the attention up like candy.

“Girls, girls. There’s enough to go around,” he said.

The words didn’t have much impact, but his tone said so much more. It was disgusting. And I had to pass by that spectacle to get to the stage.