Our agent put together our own headlining tour with real press, real pay, and real hotel rooms. Then, an opener slot for a big-league band on a national tour in Los Angeles, capping it all off.
We even traded in our rusty van for a tour bus. Used, but still a massive upgrade.
It’s been a blur. And now we’re here, at the start of something life-changing.
I slip my new notebook from my bag as we wait to check in.
Six more shows. Six new cities. All sold out.
I flip to a fresh page and press the pen down.
Tour Life, Take Two: No More Janky Van But Still a Concerning Amount of Cheese Fries
Hotel is hoteling. Five stars for the lobby alone. I tried to subtly check if the citrus scent is coming from a candle I can actually afford. It is not.
Zach tipped the valet $20 like a celebrity.
Kenna asked if she could take a bath in the minibar. Rock plans to.
Tag keeps saying “we’ve peaked” every time he sees something new: lobby art, elevators with music, the gold pen at the front desk.
Chase is quiet. All I want to do is hug him. Maybe I will.
I stuff the notebook in my duffel bag as the hotel receptionist checks us into our rooms for the night. They aren’t penthouse suites or grand villas, but wefeel privileged just to be standing in the lobby of a resort that has a spa giving out complimentary cucumber water.
For weeks we slept curled in the van like dirty laundry. Ate stale pretzels and potato chips for breakfast. Took mid-tour showers at a budget motel off I-95.
Now we have bathrobes and concierge service.
Hardcore fans and loaded merch tables.
We’re not rolling in it yet. But for the first time, the money’s enough to matter. Enough for Zach to send something home to his daughter, Marie. Enough to buy better gear, better shoes, better coffee. Enough to feel the ground shift under our feet.
Chase asks for an extra key before we retreat to our rooms.
I frown when he hands it to me. “What’s this for?”
“You said you have a hard time sleeping alone.” His eyes drift to mine as he reaches for the handle on his suitcase. “There’s no pressure, but the invitation is there. I can take the pullout.”
The edge of the keycard digs into my palm as I close my fingers around it. I can’t read him. He sounds so sincere. “Oh…thank you.”
He shrugs. “We’ve all been sleeping together in the van up till now. Figured you might get restless.”
I swallow. He’s not wrong.
Aside from those two weeks staying with Tag, I haven’t slept in a bed alone in years. Even as a teenager, Alex would sneak into my room, or I’d sneak into his. Almost every single night.
Insomnia has been plaguing me, rimming my eyes with dark shadows, dizzying my mind. I hate the sensation of lonely, dark rooms with nobody beside me. No sleepy breaths quieting my racing thoughts. No morning chitchat as the sun peeks through the curtains.
The offer warms me. Because he remembered. Because he cares.
I tap the card against my thigh and bite my lip. “I might take you up on that. But you don’t need to take the pullout. We’re both adults. A king bed is plenty big enough.”
His gaze dips to my mouth for a quick beat, then flicks back up. “I can take the pullout.”
Chase stalks ahead in his skintight gunmetal-gray T-shirt and black jeans, his suitcase rolling behind him.
“I’m going to the bar,” Kenna chirps, appearing on my right. “Your brother owes me a drink.”
