“Thanks, man,” their lead screamer, Killian, says. “Good luck tonight. Crowd is awesome.”
“Fuck yeah. I could hear them from our room. Hey, if you guys wanna hang later, let me know. Thinking about hitting up a bar after.”
He stops, but the other guys continue down the hall. I’ve only talked to them a few times in passing since the tour started. We usually do our own thing, but I’m getting sick of being my own wingman. Penn and Tanner won’t do shit without their girlfriends. Liam is only willing half the time, and that’s only if there’s a cute redhead nearby.
“Yeah, I’m down. I’ll ask the others, too,” he says.
We exchange phones, add our numbers, then he continues to their greenroom.
My bandmates approach, and we walk backstage. I likeplaying club shows like this. They’re not too big, not too small. They always have good vibes. This one reminds me of an old-time movie theater. Seeing the sign out front readShowing Tonight: Loose Threadswas so fucking cool, I pulled my phone out and snapped a photo.
There’s decent-sized standing room in front of the stage and small round tables farther back near the bar. Above everything are rows and rows of red velvet chairs, giving it an Opry feel. Yeah, this place might be my favorite so far.
Corey, my personal technician, hands me my guitar, and I tug it over my head. We wait, listening to the crowd chant our names. My chest puffs.That,I love. Hearing the buzz of anticipation, the screams when we walk out, and the lyrics sung simultaneously with me. Seeing people enjoy themselves in something we’ve created. It’s a good feeling.
A high without the drugs. But I’m flying super high tonight, double dipping.
Our entrance song kicks on, and we wait, glancing at each other and giving our usual nod, letting each other know we’re ready. Then we stride on stage.
10
TRAVIS
Using my shirt,I wipe the sweat from my forehead, trying to catch my breath as my heart still thunders against my ribs. I felt extra energized on stage, and we rocked the house. The crowd was eating it up.
“We have two rooms tonight. Check out is at ten, and we need to be back on the road before noon, so everyone better shower before then,” Tanner informs us, handing a keycard to each of us. I slip mine in my pocket. Penn is my permanent bunk buddy. I’d rather have blue balls than share a room with Tanner. We’d kill each other.
“The hotel is right behind the venue. The bus is already parked there.” Tanner tucks his clipboard under his arm, then heads for the door. Penn stands up and starts after him.
“You’re going back to the room already?” I ask him.
“Yeah.”
“Ugh, what the fuck. Let’s go out and get a drink or something.”
“Nah, I want to call Olivia.”
“Whatever.” I wave him off and glance at Liam, who’swatching him leave. “Let me guess, you want to go too?” He gives me a crooked smile, and I groan, slapping a hand over my face. “Go out with me. TripleKill is coming. We haven’t hung out with them, it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know…”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Fine,” he relents.
I give him a wide smile. He loves me.
We meet the others in the hall and order a cab to take us to the nearest bar. We’re standing outside on the corner waiting, and it takes less than two minutes for a group of girls to approach us.
The twin guitarists from TripleKill, Axel and Atticus, already have a girl on each of their arms, and I admire their quickness. It’s probably their easygoing good looks. Kind of like Liam, with their tan skin, but where Liam’s hair is dirty blond, theirs is pitch black. Killian is alone and scaring off the fresh batch of girls with his resting bitch face. He reminds me of Penn, but worse. Quiet but kind of a dick around the opposite sex. If I knew he was going to be like that, I wouldn’t have invited him.
“Can we go with you guys?” One of the blonde girls chirps, batting her lashes seductively and pressing her chest out, as if we need a better view of her rack. It's huge and plastic looking.
My eyes scan the other options. A brunette with long curls dressed in a skin-tight leopard-print dress—shit screams “only here to fuck a band member.” A bleach blonde in a leather jacket and a Nirvana T-shirt that couldn’t look any more like a poser. A cute, dark-haired girl with strips of pink throughout her hair and a nose ring like mine. She’s wearing one of our older band shirts, ones we had made to sell at SummerFest last summer. Could she be an actual fan? Or another poser? Either way, she’s kind of cute.
Once the taxi van pulls up, we climb in. The drive to theclub is short, and Sasha talked my ear off the whole time. In the five-minute drive, I’ve come to the decision that she’s definitely a groupie, but a loyal one. If her stories about seeing us play twelve times in the last two years are true.
We go straight for the bar and order a round of drinks, then grab a table near the back. The twins are already out on the dance floor, but the rest of us crowd into a booth. Killian is giving the two other girls with us the cold shoulder. Wonder if he’s gay? Not that it matters. More pussy for me if he is.
