“I’ll forgive you for lying because I’m very happy about my ice cream. Thanks for being sweet.”
“Like I said: I owe you for taking care of me first. Now I’m going to go crash.” He bent down and gave me a kiss on the forehead before leaving.
It was strange to feel socared forwhile on tour. I’d expected them to treat me like an outsider, but they really had welcomed me into the group like I was one of them.
It made everything I was doing with Riot—and now Cash—feel more than just physical.
We felt like ateam.
I woke the next morning feeling even worse than the day before. My throat was on fire and I barely had the energy to go to the bathroom to pee.
I texted the band after crawling back under the covers.
Me: I’m worse today than I was yesterday. It might be best if I stayed in Chicago until I’m better, then join you at the next city. I can pay for the extra hotel nights.
Their responses came in a flurry.
Cash: What? No.
Milo: Damn girl you think we’d just leave you behind?
Riot: Hell no. Get your ass on the bus. We can carry you if we need to.
Me: I’m not THAT bad. I just don’t want to get the rest of the band sick.
Violet: I’m super not worried about that
Milo: We can quarantine you in your bunk. And we can wear masks whenever we go back there. No problem.
Riot: Check-out is at eleven. We’ll see you downstairs.
But they must not have trusted me, because half an hour before check-out Milo and Cash knocked on my door before letting themselves in.
“We’re here to help you get moving,” Milo said, a mask covering his face. His eyes were expressive enough that I could tell he was smiling. “Oh, good. You’re already packed.”
“You can’t bail on us that easy,” Cash said as he took my suitcase.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied.
I was able to walk just fine—I was sick, notdying—but Milo stayed beside me and kept a hand on my back just in case. I didn’t mind; I actually liked the image of two rock stars tenderly taking care of me. It made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Milo asked. “The food stain on Cash’s butt?”
Cash twisted to look at himself. “Hey. How long has that been there?”
“You sat on a blackberry at breakfast! It was too late to stop you, so Vi and I pretended not to notice.”
“I could have changed pants!” Cash complained.
Milo looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Bass players hate getting messy.”
Cash pushed the elevator button and said, “Everyone hates getting messy!”
“Not drummers. We know how to enjoy life.”
“We have different definitions ofenjoy, then.”
On the bus, I stayed in my bunk with the curtain closed to try to stop the spread of germs. But I still felt like a burden to the band.
