Reed is still adjusting, though he’s getting better with it.
His main stipulation was not to make out in front of him, which we were happy to oblige with.
Andi still has her job with Heartless. Upper management suspended her with pay for a month while the press settled down. We stayed at the Matthews’s for a few more weeks, hiding securely from media until Heartless felt it safe enough for Young Decay to go back on tour.
We’d had to go to her supervisors together with our relationship. Our plea was enough for them to trust Andi again, and she was placed back on photographing the local indie gigs that she enjoys.
I crack my knuckles as I stare at the terminal hallway in anticipation of her coming down at any moment. I debate walking around the airport again.
The nerves are too much.
I should have taken another gummy.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I glance over to the video Reed is watching on his phone, and when I realize what it is, I shove him in his side.
“What?” Reed asks.
“The fuck are you watching that again for?” I ask, jerking my chin to the video.
A grin slides onto Reed’s lips. “It’s nice seeing your face in proper lighting,” he says, and I scoff.
I eye him sideways before glancing down at the video. “Let me see it,” I say with a curl of my fingers.
Reed backs away. “What—why?”
“Because I haven’t watched it, yet,” I admit.
Reed’s brows raise. “You haven’t watched… Fuck.” He takes out one of his earbuds and hands it to me, then holds the phone between us so I can see the video.
It’s a podcast interview we did once I was in the clear with legal, and the madness had died down some. The record company left it entirely up to me whether I wanted to do the show, mask or no mask. Everyone had obviously seen the mugshot already, yet something about having the mask off in the studio was strangely foreign.
“—here with Young Decay, and, I think this is an exclusive—the real Mads Tourning, everyone,” the podcast host, Amanda, says, her face all grins as she looks me over. “No mask today.”
Reed and Zeb clap me on the shoulder and shake me. The podcaster claps her hands. Bonnie makes a celebratory noise.
“How does it feel without it?” Amanda asks.
I huff and nervously scratch my beard. “I feel fucking naked,” I admit, much to their amusement.
“Now, just to clarify, we did not request this,” Amanda says. “We have not put any pressure whatsoever on him to come on without it. But we’re very, very excited to actually see you in the flesh. Though, I have to say. I love your mask.”
I hold it up from my pocket. “I can put it on,” I say.
Reed and Zeb reach over one another and try to grab it out of my hands, though I dodge them easily.
“I mean, if you’re tired of seeing my face already—”
“No, no.” Amanda chuckles. “I don’t think any of us will tire of seeing this face.” She clears her throat and suggestively raises her brows, making the rest of us laugh as she taps her cards on the table. “So, tour. You’re wrapping up the international leg tonight here in London. Now, these dates were pushed back a few months. How does it feel being back on the road?”
“It’s insane,” Bonnie answers. “International shows are always a wild vibe.”
“You were in Europe before a few years back, weren’t you?” Amanda asks.
I tune out the next minute or so of the interview. I was so nervous about it, thinking she would focus on the trial or ask a lot of questions about that night. However, Amanda had been great. She didn’t make any more comments about my being sans mask—even if I ended up putting it back on when we left the studio.
“Ah, fuck,” Reed grunts when he looks up.
The sound of his disapproval makes me frown and pull the earbud out of my ear. “What’s up?” I ask as he pulls his beanie down further as if it will hide his eyes.
