I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Come on! Don’t be a bitch. It’ll be fun.”
I side-eye him.
He laughs. “You’ve been moodier than usual. You need to get laid.” When I continue to ignore him, he adds, “There will be girls.”
As if I didn’t already know there would be girls. That’s the problem, especially if a certain blonde Barbie is there.
“Ellie’s coming. I’m not sure if she’s bringing that Olivia chick or not. She mentioned bringing her sister.”
I glance over at him, but his attention is on his phone. “Sister, huh?” I feign interest, even though I have none.
“Yeah, and you’ve seen her. Good genes, man. Just sayin’.”
I nod, but I’m not actually considering it. I have too much shit on my mind to worry about getting laid. The thought of pursuing someone exhausts me. I don’t have to try. They’ll come to me, just like Casey did last weekend. Even that was tiring. I wasn’t even into it until Barbie started watching.
We pull into the parking lot later than Tanner wanted, and I’m sure he’s feeling some type of way about it. He likes to run a tight ship and he does it well. Keeping three other dudes in line isn’t easy, especially when one of them is Travis.
“I’m going to check us in and scope everything out,” he says, speed-walking inside the bar. We wait for his signal, and a few minutes later, he’s back with a rolling cart and barking orders. We’ve tried to convince him to hire someone else to manage us, especially now that we’re playing more shows, but he refuses. The idea of him handing any sort of control over to someone else is his worst nightmare.
We unload our equipment and lug it inside, heading to our room while we wait for the other band to finish their set. It’s not much bigger than a closet and it smells like piss and cigarettes, but it’s somewhere to put our stuff down and prepare. Sometimes you get nothing, carrying straight from your car to the stage and getting to work. Fuck, sometimes there’s not even a stage.
Liam sits in the corner, twirling his drumsticks, while Tanner flips through the contract over and over, a deep scowl set on his face. Travis paces the room, warming up his vocals, and I lean back on the couch, cradling my guitar. I run my fingers over the embroidery on my strap, and the familiar ache hits my chest. I do my best to shove it away and focus on the moment.
No matter how many shows we play, no matter how big or small the crowd is, I revel in the feeling I get before going on. The anticipation thrums through my fingers. The adrenaline spikes in my blood. More than that, the peace it brings me knowing for a few minutes I won’t think of anything else. My mind will be completely clear. I’ll feel good.
Music is a universal language, and nothing is more important to any of us than doing it right. No matter what goes on outside, we leave all that shit at home and play our asses off, and we love every second of it.
There’s a knock at the door before a head pokes in. “Twenty minutes,” the bar manager says.
“All right, fellas, let’s kill it!” Travis claps, setting us in motion.
Tanner puts his papers down and grabs his bass before exiting the room, with Liam behind him. Travis gives me a nod before following them out. We all have our own little rituals and traditions we follow before shows. Mine is simple. I take a few minutes to myself and shoot my mom a text, letting her know we’re about to go on. She replies instantly, telling me she loves me and good luck. Then I close my eyes and throw a silent thanks up to my dad. Without him and his belief in me, I don’t think I’d have made it this far.
I walk down the hallway leading backstage, where the guys are waiting. I can hear the crowd from here—sounds like a decent turnout. This place isn’t huge, and it’s definitely more run-down than last weekend’s bar, but it’s Saturday night. That usually means a party.
As I get closer, the sound of the band performing reaches my ears. I bob my head. Some emo band with a lot of screaming, but it’s not bad. I appreciate all types of music. Especially bands and artists like us, who grind every single day to get their music to as many ears as possible. This industry isn’t easy, no matter who you are or what kind of music you play, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else. Ican’tdo anything else. This is it for me. Sure, I help Ray at his shop, but I do that because I care about him and because he needs help. Working there doesn’t feel like this.
Thisis everything.
“You ready?” Trav asks as I stand next to him.
I nod.
Once the other band finishes playing and grabs their gear, we start to set up. Travis fist-bumps us all as we slide into our positions. Travis at the front with his mic, me to his right, Tanner to his left, and Liam behind us at his drums.
I crack my neck and roll my shoulders when the guy on the other side of the curtain introduces us.
The moment the tattered fabric parts, revealing us to the crowd, my attention is pulled to my right. Honey eyes shine back at me, confirming what I’d secretly hoped for.
Barbie’s here.
8
OLIVIA
I nearly chokeon my water the second Penn’s eyes land on mine.Again.I didn’t even have time to prepare. He found me instantly, as if he could sense me.
