You have got to be fucking kidding me. She was definitely misunderstanding something, and not letting me talk to her about it was making the situation much worse. Her leaving my watch, to some undisclosed location for fucking breakfast, was not acceptable, and I chased down Marty for an idea of where they might have gone.

Wringing my hands, I approached him, where he was having a smoke around the side of the hotel. “Hey man,” I said.

“Lose your girl?” he said with a smirk, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Admitting defeat was not my jam, but it was desperate times. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t get the invite to breakfast, so I need to find them.”

Chuckling a bit and dropping his cigarette to the ground, he looked up at me. “Those girls do this all the time. You can find them at the closest place that has coffee and bacon. No kidding. They’re not picky, it could be a dump, and that’s where they’ll be.”

“Thanks.” I started to step away.

“King,” Marty stopped me.

“Yeah?” I asked abruptly.

“Watch yourself with Miranda. She seems put together, but she’s volatile. I’m not a stupid man.” He gave me a stern, fatherly stare over his sunglasses.

“Yes sir,” I replied. Part of me wanted to stay and explain the situation to him, but I knew I needed to go spy on the girls, and make sure Miranda was safe, whether she was speaking to me or not.

A quick internet search and a five-minute cab ride led me to Dusty’s, a small diner close to the hotel. Fortunately for me, it had a huge window and the girls were easy to spot from the street. They were laughing and eating. Completely normal behavior. As I surveyed the other customers, it didn’t look like anyone besides me was staring at them, or watching them at all, which gave me some relief.

Reality set in again, and I knew that at some point, I was going to need to talk to Miranda about the kiss. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but she seemed angry with me, and I needed that resolved as quickly as possible. I sighed, rubbing the stubble on my face, thinking about what happened. The night before, once I was in my hotel room, my head was spinning. She’d been out of my sight for less than five minutes, and I missed her. Sheer impulse had taken over when I knocked on her door, and if I’m being totally honest, I didn’t regret one second of it. Losing my inhibitions with her was effortless; just the thought of my lips on hers sent a rush of heat through me.

Reminiscing about her touch sent signals to my brain, and my dick, and I had to adjust myself discreetly as I was coming to attention just at the thought. While I watched her have breakfast across the street, I debated going in and pretending that I’d run into them out on my own, looking for breakfast as well, but I thought Carmen would be suspicious. If I wasn’t more careful, she was going to figure me out soon, and that wasn’t a good thing for any of us. Carmen seemed like the type to cause a hell of a scene if the wind shifted in a way she didn’t care for. Although, for all I know, Miranda was telling her everything at that table. What I would have done for a listening device in that moment as anxiety set in, and I tried to focus.

Not long after, the girls appeared to be paying their tab. I ducked into the convenience store across the street and grabbed whatever fruit they had on the counter, so that when they found me, it wouldn’t appear as though I’d been following them specifically. I exited the store as they were leaving the diner, both smiling. The sun was shining quite brightly, and when it hit Miranda’s red hair, it was almost blinding, but also made it pretty easy to keep tabs on her. My plan was to cross the street in their path, so they’d have no choice but to be stuck with me for the remainder of the morning. I figured ingratiating myself to Carmen that morning would be a good strategy for eliminating the awkward exchange that was likely to occur between Miranda and I until I could get her alone.

Stealthily, I walked out of the convenience store, making my way toward them.

“Hey! Writer!” Mission accomplished. Carmen spotted me.

“Oh, hey ladies!” I exclaimed, feigning my surprise. “How was breakfast?”

“I have an unnatural love for bacon, and they had bacon aplenty, so it was wonderful,” Carmen replied, while Miranda stood silently, her arms crossed and an indifferent expression on her face.

Laughing, I replied, “Nice. Are you guys headed back to the hotel now?”

“We are, indeed,” Carmen replied.

“Mind if I share a cab with you?” There was no way they’d say no; they had no reason to.

“Of course,” Carmen answered. Miranda continued to stay silent, hiding her eyes behind her sunglasses.

It was worse than I thought. Miranda had time to get even more upset with me, or whatever was going through that beautiful head of hers. She didn’t engage me at all, staring out the window the entire ride back to the hotel while I chatted mindlessly with Carmen, who was extremely friendly, Completely unlike our past encounters. I was certainly grateful for her presence in that moment; it seemed Miranda hadn’t said anything about the night before, which both relieved and disappointed me.

Carmen instructed the taxi driver to drop us off by the buses that were still parked out back, but were now running and seemingly ready to go to the venue. I tried to pay, but Miranda grabbed my arm as I reached for my wallet; the first she’d acknowledged me since I tried to talk to her that morning.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“But--” She cut me off.

“We got it. It’s business. Don’t worry about it,” she said cordially.

“Okay. Thank you,” I replied.

She gave me a nod and another tight-lipped smile getting out of the taxi, letting Carmen pay the driver. I followed, trying not to piss her off, and hoping she would get back to being herself soon. Marty was waiting outside of the bus having another smoke and gave me a nod.

“We just about ready to get over to the venue?” he asked the girls.

“Yes please,” Miranda replied quietly, smiling at him before getting on the bus.

I followed her onto the bus, and Carmen was right behind me, so I couldn’t make another attempt to talk.

“Alright friends, we’re about twenty minutes from the venue,” Marty said loudly as he hopped into his driver’s seat.

“Thanks daddy-o,” Carmen replied. She really was a ray of fucking sunshine that morning. It was catching me off guard.

Miranda rummaged through one of her bags on the bus, pulling out some large red headphones and putting them on without speaking to anyone. After flopping into the recliner chair and folding her legs under her, she scrolled through her phone, looking for something. Once she’d found whatever it was, she leaned her head back and appeared to gaze out the bus window, listening.

I sat toward the back near Carmen, who was using her drumsticks on her thighs, almost burning off energy. As I glanced over at her, she nodded in Miranda’s direction and said, “She’s in a mood today. It’ll pass. It always does.”

“Is something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

“Meh, who knows? She didn’t want to talk about it. I was gonna ask you, but looks like you have no clue either,” .She raised her eyebrows in question.

“No, sure don’t,” I replied, feeling like a fucking douche for lying. “You don’t seem too concerned though.”

“Nah. Sometimes when we’re on the road, she likes to listen to music on her big obnoxious headphones. It’s whatever. We kind of all have our thing, I guess.”

“So, what’s your thing?” I asked her, wanting to get to know her a bit better.

“Well, I’m certain you’ve learned already that I like to party,” she replied.

“Yea, but is that really your thing? Like your pre-show ritual or whatever?” I asked.

“Hmm.” She looked off, thinking about it. It was the first time she’d stopped fidgeting with her drumsticks that I could recall. Looking down at them, she smiled. “Well, I play with my sticks. All the time. I tap them on everything, including myself, just working out beats in my head.”

“Is that all you’re doing?” I felt like there was more to it than that.

“Ok writer, here’s some truth for you,” .She rested her forearms on her knees and looked intently at me, getting my full attention. “My brain is always running a mile a minute. Like, I have a million thoughts going through my head at any given time and I have a hard time organizing them sometimes; it’s hard to focus. But, when I tap my sticks on things, in a rhythm that makes sense to me, it helps those thoughts find their own space in my head. It organizes my thoughts because of the consistency of the beat.” She pursed her lips, anticipating my reply.

“That’s fucking smart,” I replied. “Did you figure that out on your own?”

“Yeah, one day I was just so distracted with so many different things, like what to wear, where to go, what to do, simple shit like that, and I was tapping my sticks on my thigh mindlessly, trying to make trivial decisions. It calmed my brain down enough that I was able to get shit done. It just works for me. I know a lot of people find it super annoying, but I kind of need to do it sometimes, or I’ll accidently not even listen to what people are saying.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Makes a lot of sense to me,” I replied. Truthfully it did. It was a great way to organize your thoughts.

Shortly after my conversation with Carmen, we pulled into the next venue just outside the city. Miranda pulled her headphones down around her neck, and looked back at Carmen.

“Hey, do you know if Travis is already here? I haven’t heard anything,” she asked.

“You know that people don’t rely on me for those things. I have no idea.” Carmen gave Miranda a scowl.

Sighing, Miranda stood up, still not acknowledging me, and grabbed her bag. “You two coming?” she asked, finally acknowledging both of us.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Are you gonna get the stick out of your ass anytime soon?” Carmen asked with a sarcastic smile, lips pressed tightly together and wide eyes.

Miranda flipped Carmen the middle finger and got off the bus.

“Have a great day, ladies,” Marty called out to them as they got off the bus. Last in line, he stopped me. “King. She’ll get over it. Keep on her. She’s not as stubborn as the other one,” He winked at me.

“Thank you, sir.” I saluted him as I disembarked behind the girls. I didn’t want to ruin her vibe on the day of a show, so I decided that I was going to keep my distance the rest of the afternoon. I discreetly felt for my gun in its holster, tucked into the back of my jeans. Knowing it was there, and whether she liked it or not, I could keep her safe. I followed behind the pack, doing my actual job.