“Travis,” Penn growls.
“Sure thing,” I say with as much pep as I can muster, then I exit the bus with my head held high.
He wants to be a jerk? Fine. From now on, I will give zero fucks about his mental and physical health. As long as I’m stuck on this tour, I’ll be the ultimate professional. I thought I could be his friend, maybe even more, but no. I won’t say a single word to him unless it’s about my job. If he falls over from exhaustion, don’t ask me to call an ambulance. Well, I might actually have to do that, but that’s all. I won’t ride in it with him.
The five-minute walk back to my hotel gives me time to fight off angry tears that threaten to fall. Fuck him, I cry over no man.
28
TRAVIS
Everyone wason my ass hard yesterday after the blowout. They all agreed—aside from Calvin, of course—that I was being a dick, kicking Ellie off the bus. Maybe I overreacted, but what did they want me to do? She’s stepping into things that aren’t her business. Acting like a concerned girlfriend, talking shit with my bandmates and friends behind my back? Nope.
I tap my knuckle on her hotel door, and a minute later, it swings open. She stands on the other side, her brow arched high and a hand on her hip. “Can I help you?” she asks, sweetly.
Ohh shit.
I move to step inside, but she blocks me with her foot. “What are you doing?”
“Can I come in?”
“No. What do you need?”
“Come on, let me in. I’m sorry.”
“Ok, but no. Do you need something band-related?” She stares blankly at me.
My handscrubs along my jaw. She’s pissed. I was an ass, but I didn’t mean it.
“Come on, Ma?—”
She throws her hand up, silencing me. “Don’t.”
“Fuck, let’s talk about this.”
“Unless it pertains to my job, I no longer have anything to say to you. Have a nice day,” she says, slamming the door in my face.
I throw my head back with a growl. She’s being dramatic. We have to keep it professional in front of everyone. Just because we’re fooling around doesn’t give her the right to stick her nose into everything else.
I make my way back to the bus. We have sound check in a few hours, and I’m running on fumes already. I pat my pockets, searching for the tiny baggie I keep there. When I feel it, I reach in and pull it out, frowning when I see only a few pills left. I was sure I had more. Like way more. How did I go through them so fast?
I drop one into my mouth. This should still be enough to get me through.
My eyes scan the bus as I step on, making sure no one else is lurking, then approach Calvin, who’s at the kitchen table on his laptop. He glances up briefly when I take the seat across from him.
My stare bores into his, waiting, and after a beat, he sighs. “What can I do for you?”
“I need a little more,” I say, keeping my voice quiet, just in case Tanner has this bus wired or some shit.
His forehead creases, and he slowly closes his laptop. “That was supposed to last you weeks.”
I shrug. “Well, it didn’t. I’m still fucking tired, so I took more when I needed an extra boost. Do you want me falling over on stage?” He stares at me, and I don’t like it. I roll my shoulders, tension building. “Well?” I press.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is this becoming a problem? Because I only meant to help.”
A laugh almost escapes. This whole thing was his idea.Nowhe’s concerned? When it was him who was practically shoving them down my throat.
“It’s not a problem unless you’re telling me you’re not going to help.”
