Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I take my sweet time getting to the lounge. Ajay’s there, sitting on a stool and tapping out a beat on the leather armrest of the sofa. Dana, along with the gals from Plum and Keane, are also in here. Hendrix decided he wanted to ride on the other bus today, under the guise that he’s trying to get to know the members of Talking Til Dawn.
He's not wrong; we should probably all do that. Maybe when the tour's over, because they’re only doing the West Coast portion.
Keane’s on his laptop, headphones on, ignoring everything around him. Dana’s face is lit by the soft glow of her phone, her thumb swiping aggressively across the screen. She types something out and then goes back to swiping. Casually, I take mine out of my pocket and hit the screen, hoping to see a message from Nola.
No new messages.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve looked today. At least one hundred, if not more.
She said to call her when I’m in town.
But I’m not in town. I’m in fucking Arizona, two thousand miles away from her. The tour schedule takes us east, but not for a bit.
Ajay motions for me to sit down.
“What’s up?”
“Thought we could jam,” he says as he continues to tap his sticks against the armrest.
I should go back downstairs and take up residence in the chair, but Ajay’s my bandmate, and he hasn’t done anything to deserve my piss-poor attitude.
I sit on the edge of the couch, closest to the footrest. On it sits a pad of paper with a pen. Briefly, I flip through the pages and smile at the doodles on each page.
“I did that,” Justine from Plum says from the other side of the room.
“These are cute,” I tell her as I flip to a clean page. If I’m going to jam, I might as well work on some new music. Once I’m situated, I pluck at the strings of my guitar until a sound forms, and then I start humming. It doesn’t take long for Ajay to pick up on the beat. It’s not heavy, but softer.
I don’t know the lyrics, at least not yet. They’ll come eventually. Right now, all I can think about is Nola, the situationship we’re in, and how much I miss her. If I tell myself this is exactly how things would’ve been regardless because she never planned on coming with me, then I’ll survive this shit until I can see her.
Keane takes his headphones off and adds to the harmony with the keyboard app he has on his computer. Technology is a wonderful thing to have on a tour bus and in general. It’s not like he can set up an actual keyboard. One quick brake check and the thing would go flying.
Dana puts her phone down and leans forward. “What are you thinking? Ballad?”
I nod and write the progression of notes down. “It’s where my head is right now,” I say, without realizing my statement could open an assortment of questions.
“I’m going to record if that’s okay,” Justine says. She doesn’t wait for an answer and sets her phone on the footrest in front of her, pushing it toward the middle of the room. Ajay moves closer to me, putting the members of Sinful Distraction in a semi-circle. Missing Hendrix right now sucks, but he’s so damn good on the strings, he’ll pick this up right away.
After a three, maybe four-hour jam session, we’re pulling into the venue. I’m tired as shit and should’ve taken a nap. Such is the life of a musician, I suppose.
Tonight, I sit through Talking Til Dawn and Plum’s set. Elle decided that for our first show, Justine will join Sinful Distraction on stage, and then tomorrow night, I’ll join her. Elle wants to keep the fans on their toes. Secretly, I know it’s her way of sticking it to them for not being in their seats during both performances.
It's annoying, people who don’t show up for the opening act. I know what it feels like to look out at the crowd and see so many empty seats. It’s bullshit.
You pay for three concerts; be there for three concerts. I get that sometimes you’re running late, but when it’s a majority of the venue, it’s fucked. It makes me want to put Sinful Distraction out first, just to prove the point.
Elle would never.
Speaking of which, my sister stands next to me, shocking the crap out of me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought you could need a little extra . . .” she shrugs, leaving her words to interpretation. I know exactly what she means—support—we’re always had each other’s backs, no matter what.
I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me, kissing the top of her head. It’s my way of saying thank you, especially when my voice fails. “How are you feeling?”