We were going to have three days off between tonight and when we left for Australia.
Australia. I was finally going, and I was pretty damn excited.
"Do you want to go shower while I load up?" Carter asked as we passed by the back area where the dressing rooms were.
The venue was one of the few that had showers, and we'd all agreed to get cleaned up before we got on the bus. The Cloud Collision’s record label was stationed in Philadelphia and they were throwing an end-of -tour party/delayed CD release celebration at a club for them. I wasn't much of a partygoer, but everyone was going.
"Sure. Hurry and I'll save the shower for you," I told him, and he nodded in agreement.
I grabbed my backpack and ran over to the two separate bathrooms that each had a shower stall inside. Only one of the two doors was closed, so I darted through the empty doorway and stripped, showering and shaving as quickly as possible. I slipped on the dark purple dress I'd bought that afternoon after Eli so eloquently told me that I couldn't go out dressed like a hobo. I put on some make-up, twisted my wet hair over one shoulder, put all my stuff back into my bag, and peeped my head out of the bathroom to find that Carter was sitting on the floor right outside, with Julian and Isaiah standing about five feet away in the middle of a conversation.
"Your turn, bud," I told my newly bald friend.
He grinned at me, the piercing on his bottom lip winking at me as he jumped up, stealthy like a cat, and slid into the bathroom at the same time I slipped out. Julian had apparently still not forgiven me for the Brandon thing so I wasn’t surprised when he looked at me with zero emotion. Isaiah on the other hand.... I pulled my dress down even as I smiled at him. The material was riding up my legs so much when I walked that I wondered how slim my chances were that I wouldn't show off my green underwear at some point. The problem had been that I’d only had twenty minutes to shop before I had to head back to the venue, and the choices hadn’t been that great: too much cleavage or possible crotch-shots. Look like a hooker or look like a hooker.
I went with the latter.
The fourth person I saw on my way out was my brother, who was already dressed and typing on his phone. He happened to glance up, and glanced back down for a second before he looked up again.
"What the fuck, Flabby? You working the corner tonight, or what?" he cried, pointing at my dress.
"Shut your mouth," I groaned. He did this every single time I wore something that was more than two inches above my knee.
Eli glared at me a second longer before he rolled his eyes and went back to playing with his phone. Just as I started to walk away, he called out after me. "If you make any money tonight, I'm taking a cut!"
I flicked him off and got on the practically empty bus. The sound guy for TCC was inside and so was Miles. Things were still a little awkward between us since the Pickle Dick incident. While we'd only spoken a handful of words since the tour started, he was still giving me funny faces on top of the silence. I understood he was friends with Brandon, but the dumb fuck had thought it would be a good idea to go to a concert where his ex-girlfriend's psychotic brother was playing. Really, he had it coming.
Wanting to avoid the weird looks, I made my way to the back room and planted myself on the long couch with a book I'd stashed in one of the cupboards.
Carter came in a few minutes later dressed in gray skinny jeans and a button-up white shirt that he’d picked up that afternoon too. He smiled at me and sat down in the seat to the right.
“You look nice,” I commented, earning a blush from him.
Mason came in next. His eyes were down, and his black pants and shirt were completely unbuttoned to the point I couldn't understand how his clothes were still on. "Hey man, can I borrow—.” My longtime friend looked up and stopped talking. He blinked those big, blue eyes at me.
My face flushed when he didn't say anything for too long. "What is it?"
Mason turned to glance at Carter. "Get out and lock the door."
I couldn't help but laugh, kicking my foot out at him. "Quit it."
"Seriously. Flabby," he said, staring at my legs, "when are we getting married?”
My face warmed up again, but all I did was groan in response.
He looked at me for a minute longer before shaking his head and asking Carter if he had an extra belt. I hung out with Carter in the back while the bus made its way to the club. In no time at all, it came to a stop and I could hear everyone in the front getting off. Slipping on the short, black wedge heels I had scored that afternoon as well, I followed after my buddy to see that we were stopped in the fire lane at some place called The Magic Carpet. There was a line of people standing outside; I spotted Eli and Gordo bypassing the line and making their way into the club. Following in their direction, the bouncer just waved Carter and me inside without checking our IDs.
The club wasn't at all what I was expecting. For one thing, bouncy eighties music was playing. Instead of some dark, dingy place that definitely had dry sperm contaminating every nook and cranny, the walls were dark red, the furniture a contemporary black and gray scattered about the edges of the floor. The bar had some neon lights lining the stools, the counter and the shelves where the bottles were placed. Then there was the dance floor, which was the coolest dance floor I had ever seen in my life. The atmosphere was fun and clean.
Carter elbowed me when “Eye of the Tiger” came over the speakers. He made a face and gestured toward the bar with his head. I nodded and followed after him. “What do you want to drink?” he half gestured, half yelled. It’d only been four days since Mase and I drank my bottle of wine, and apparently I’d forgotten my vow to never drink again.
“Long Island Iced Tea,” I mouthed back at him.
He nodded right before disappearing into the crush surrounding the bar.
I stood there, tapping my foot and humming along to the loud, ageless song playing through the speakers. Off to one corner were a few of The Cloud Collision’s guys already talking to a group of girls sitting at a table. But no Sacha. Not that I was looking. This whole playing it cool and getting over a crush was going okay. If I just sucked it up, smiled and reminded myself there were plenty of other men in the world to have crushes on, it went easily. Sacha and I had even gone for a run in Toronto with a silent, broody Julian, and had lunch the day before in New Jersey. Needless to say, I was proud of myself for trying to be a good friend.
I kept on looking around, putting the Russian out of my head. The two soul mates, Eli and Mase, were nowhere to be found. Carter was back before I knew it, with a small clear glass in one hand, and a larger glass in another, holding it out in my direction.
