While the band has been recording and working nonstop, so have Kade and I from one of the back rooms. We’re trying to make sure everything is ready for Radio Eleven—flights,cars, their trailers, added venue security, routes, aligning with Heartless…
I’m dying inside to know what’s going on in Bonnie’s head. It’s killing me to pretend that all I’m worried about is some random festivalgoers and the fact that both Rad and Trevor are supposed to be there.
Fucking Rad…
If I see him… I can’t promise that I won’t black out. I’d love to tell the venue he’s banned, that if he shows up trying to get in, they are to send him packing. However, with the size of the festival, that’s nearly impossible. Their staff is only there to scan people in, not deal with a single possible threat to one band out of fifty-three.
Kade doesn’t want me moving around the festival on my own—too fearful that I’ll drug Rad and drag his ass to the trailer I’m sharing with Kade and Liam, especially after the altercation the other night at the strip club.
What’s more, is the way I have to keep this all together and act like I’m not dying as we sit backstage on the grass at this festival.
I glance across the space at Bonnie, who’s laughing at something Andi is saying on the picnic blanket nearby. Zeb chimes in on her other side, the three of them nearly bending over in hysterics. Her tattooed arms are out, barely more than a cropped tank over her body, fishnets and shorts on her legs.
She’s such a rockstar.
We arrived at the festival overnight, and after some much-needed sleep, the band did back-to-back interviews with local radio stations and entertainment journalists. They’re finally finished and able to eat dinner, so we’re huddled on a few blankets in the grassy area backstage, the noise of the opening band in the distance. A few friends have stopped by to clap theirhands and chat, and as the latest group pauses to chat, Kade nudges me.
“Check this out,” he says, handing me his phone and pressing play on the video on the screen.
It’s this morning’s newscast from home. The only photo in the top corner is their usual “caution tape” crime banner. I tap the closed captions so I can read what the anchor is saying instead of turning the volume up.
“—gang and drug-related activity that resulted in one fatality at a local apartment complex. Authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward, and citizens are reminded that any source of information will remain anonymous—”
The anchor moves on to the next story as if ten seconds of airtime is all they’re allowed to give what police are referring to as “gang-related activity.”
Thank fuck for that.
“Cheers,” I say, hitting my sparkling soda water can against his.
“—we thinking for tonight?” I hear Bonnie asking the group. Her voice grabs my attention, and I glance over just in time to see her pull her knees into her chest and sneak a peek my way.
“Could work on Bonnie’s jam,” Mads suggests.
“Honestly, I’m pretty beat,” Zeb says, stretching his arms. “Probably pass the fuck out on that bed in the trailer.”
“You just want to sleep,” Andi teases him.
“Of course I want to sleep,” Zeb agrees. “Who doesn’t love sleep?”
“Isn’t there a party tonight?” Reed asks the group. “Foster’s doing a livestream, right?”
“No partying,” Stella says, looking up from her phone.
“It’s video games,” Reed argues.
“No partying,” she repeats.
Reed opens his mouth to speak again, though I chime in before he has a chance.
“Hey, she’s right,” I say, willing to take the blame if they need a villain. They all gawk at me, and I stand to go over to their blanket so I’m not yelling.
“Are we on lockdown?” Reed asks, a little too peaked at the idea.
“No, no lockdown,” I tell him. “You all have a very early soundcheck in the morning followed by an interview with that one very perky blonde woman who did your interview at DeathFest—”
“Abby,” Stella chimes in.
“Yeah, Abby, from Radio Eleven. So, lights out tonight. They’re rolling through each band on the main stage before the gates open. I have instructions from Rock that say—and I quote—if any of you fuckers aren’t on time, I’m going to have a roadie fuck with your set list.”
