Pulling myself out of bed and into the attached bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, brush my teeth, and tell myself to get my shit together.
Just as I’m throwing on one of my dad’s old band t-shirts and a hopefully clean pair of jeans, thinking that the day ahead can’t get any more difficult, my phone buzzes with a new message from my little sister.
Johanna Harris
Coming to visit tonight! Got a huge opportunity out in LA. See you at the show xoxo
I sigh and put the phone back on the counter without replying.
It’s classic Johanna to not tell me that she’s coming to visit until the last possible minute so I can’t tell her not to. With everything going on in my head, I really don’t need my sister blowing in and making an even bigger mess of everything. She’s Mia and Rylee’s age, and her nickname growing up in our house wasHurricane Johanna.
I make my way out to the living area where the guys are discussing tonight’s show, but they look at me expectantly once they notice I’d entered the room.
Most of our stuff is already at the venue, as it’s the same place we’d played at the night before, so there isn’t all that much left to do before we can head out.
I take a seat beside Eric and put my head back against the recliner, closing my eyes.
“You and Mia get freaky last night?” Tony asks in his usual playful manner.
Eric shoots him a disapproving look to which Tony simply shrugs in response.
Meanwhile, I try to control the feeling of panic and frustration rising in my chest.
I’m already having a hard enough time not letting myself go there as it is.
“No, we did notget freaky, Tony,” I huff. “We just talked. Ate. It was nice.”
Thankfully, the guys leave it at that.
I know Brandon and Eric both realize how troubled I am by Mia’s arrival and my feelings towards it. Even though Tony jokes around, I know he understands it, too. As always, he’s just trying to lighten the mood.
Not too long after our conversation ends, Rylee and Mia emerge from the hallway leading to the bedrooms, ready for the day. My eyes wander up from Mia’s white Chuck Taylors, noticing the way her tight, dark blue jeans hug her curves and, of course, those green eyes that I know could level me. She’s radiant in a way that makes it impossible to think straight.
If I didn’t know it before, I sure as hell know it now.
I’m screwed.
Once we finish our soundcheck, the guys and I head to the dressing room. Rylee and Mia are waiting for us there, and I expect Johanna will be arriving shortly. I want to make sure I get there before my sister does.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt in my element at a venue, but tonight, I just feel the stress and exhaustion from the lack of sleep the night before, even more than usual. Even the relief I found from getting off to the thought of Mia last night was short-lived, much to my dismay.
I can only hope that actually getting on stage and performing tonight will lift my spirits and get me out of the hole I’ve dug for myself. Realistically, I know it’ll take a lot more than that, but a guy can hope—although it doesn’t seem like I have much left.
Then the door opens and, entering from stage left: Hurricane Johanna.
She’s wearing head-to-toe designer clothes, perfectly styled as if she’s stepping off a Fashion Week runway rather than walking into a dingy backstage dressing room at a rock concert. Her jet-black hair is tied back into a sleek high pony tail and her blue eyes that match mine still glow even under the poor dressing room lights. She throws her arms around me like it hasn’t been months since our last conversation.
“Well, if it isn’t my big brother, the stranger,” Johanna says.
“Hi, Joey,” I smile as sincerely as I can. “How was the flight?”
Johanna had flown in from our hometown in Maine, where she spends most of her time when she isn’t off galavanting around the world doing her modeling. She’s a cover model, a rising star in the industry, so it seems that she spends more time traveling than she does in Cumberland, practically living on her agency’s jet.
“Fine, fine,” she replies. “Mom says hello.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I say flatly, rolling my eyes.
I know my mother didn’t tell Johanna to say anything to me. She hadn’t said a word to me herself since I left home to pursue music when I was eighteen, and she wouldn’t have talked to me through Johanna, either.
