by R. C. Martin
She smiles at me, and the joy in her pretty blue eyes somehow soothes the dull pain that has been somewhat of a permanent fixture in my chest for the last three weeks. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but she looks just as gorgeous as ever—her blonde hair cut into a pixie style that suits her small frame and stature; her makeup light but flawless. She’s wearing a leather jacket, an oversized sweater with a pattern across the front only she could pull off, and a pair of jeans tucked into black, wedge-heeled boots. She’s also got a box of pizza in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.
“Well, you see, I was thinking maybe you’d get around to calling me—you know, Violet? Your friend? When you didn’t, I decided that I needed to take matters into my own hands. And, since word on the street is that you’re not too great about answering your phone, I thought showing up demanding a girl’s night, with a kick-ass pizza, a bottle of wine, and a couple movies, would be my best option. So, can I come in?”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she squeezes by me and into my unit, heading straight for the coffee table with her Jo-Jo’s pizza. She pulls out the bottle of wine and movies she mentioned, and then I watch as she stops and heads for the couch, picking up my discarded book.
“Portrait of a Lady?” she asks, arching an eyebrow as she studies the cover. “Millie,” she mutters, looking at me from where I stand at my still-opened door. “This looks boring and old.”
“It’s a classic,” I reply lamely.
“I repeat—boring and old. Not to worry, we’ll work on that.” She sets the book back down and slides out of her jacket, draping it over the arm of the couch before she asks, “Corkscrew?”
I study her for a second, still surprised that she’s here. Regardless, I can’t dismiss the fact that I’m relieved to see her. Violet and I have spent a lot of time together, just the two of us. Every time we would go see Mountains & Men perform, or when we hung out with them while they were in the recording studio, she was by my side. I’ve laughed with her and conversed with her plenty, getting to know her over drinks and music. She’s right. We are friends.
“I should have called,” I murmur, suddenly feeling badly.
“Yeah,” she says with a crooked smile and a shrug. “I forgive you. Or, at least, I will after a slice of pizza and a glass of wine.”
“Right,” I reply with a small smile of my own. “I’ll be right back.”
WHEN WE COME to a stop, I look out the window situated just beside the kitchen table. The afternoon sky is overcast, fueling my mood. I drop my pen on top of the notebook in front of me just as JJ taps the table, signaling with a head nod that he’s stepping out. I offer him a chin lift, knowing I could use a bit of fresh air. Maddox and Knox stand from where they were camped out in front of the little TV, playing video games for the last hour. Knox grunts as he stretches and then frees a long belch.
“Charming,” teases Alex as she makes her way out from the back of the bus, her coat in her arms.
It was decided on day one that our newbie got dibs on the bus’s one and only room. Being the gentlemen we are, we thought it only fair that our church mouse was allotted the appropriate amount of privacy—tits before dicks or whatever. Knox, Maddox, Derrick and I claimed the four bunks, and JJ volunteered to crash on the couch at the front of the bus. It’s a tight fit, but we know better than to complain.
“Don’t act like you don’t know how to let one rip,” says Derrick with a chuckle, draping an arm around her shoulders as they make their way to the door.
“I cannot be held responsible for my lack of decorum when challenged to a burping contest at three in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, babe,” Maddox laughs. “I can still see the look on JJ’s face when you beat his ass.”
JJ grins, shaking his head as he follows everyone out into the lot, shrugging on his coat as he goes. He says something I don’t catch, but I’m pulled from the conversation when I step off the bus and see the fans beyond the barricades that have us blocked in. There’s probably only about a hundred of them, most of which are screaming girls antsy to meet Lawful Sinners, but it’s still pretty sick to see them standing out in the cold just to snag a few autographs. I watch as Clay, Gabe, Adrian, and Nate jog over to their fans, signing whatever is thrust at them and posing for selfies. When I hear my name, I stop dead in my tracks.
“Sage!” a group of girls cry in unison.
I lock eyes with Derrick as he smirks at me from over his shoulder, obviously having heard them, too.
“Sage!” they call out once more, louder this time. “Over here!”
As I turn in the direction of their voices, I see them right away. They’re jumping up and down with a handmade poster, the Mountains & Men logo drawn out across the top. I start heading in their direction, shocked as shit that I’ve got fans in fucking Portland, Oregon, and that’s when I hear it—they’re calling all of our names. I look back at my crew, watching as they split up to greet our fans, and the surreal nature of this moment is another shock to the system.
“Oh, my god—Sage! We love your music. Eeep!”
“You are so much hotter in person! Will you take a picture with me?”
“Me too! And could you sign my notebook?”
“Uh, hey,” I mutter, reaching for said notebook. “What’s your name?”
“Connie,” she beams.
A lopsided grin tugs at the corner of my mouth as I scribble her name on the blank page.
“Connie, how’d you hear about M&M all the way out here?”
“Are you kidding?” she squeals. “You’re like all over Instagram!”
“My sister goes to CSU,” someone shouts from over Connie’s shoulder. “She said she’s seen you guys play a million times! Gah—I’m so fucking jealous!” She shoves her arm through a small opening, holding out a sharpie before she pleads, “Will you sign my shirt?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply with a chuckle. I give Connie her notebook, reaching for her phone before I turn it around and snap a picture of us. She thanks me with a blush before stepping aside. “What’s your name, beautiful?” I ask, reaching for the sharpie as the blonde with a sister at CSU steps forward.
“Marla,” she practically purrs, unzipping her coat, exposing the plain white T that clings to her chest underneath. “But you can call me beautiful. I don’t mind.” I regard her with amusement as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before pointing at a spot on her left breast, indicating where she’d like me to sign.
I shake my head, laughing to myself as I pinch at the fabric clinging to her waist, pulling her shirt away from her chest before I scribble my name exactly where she pointed. She giggles and then holds out her phone for a picture.
For the next fifteen minutes, I sign autographs and interact with the crowd. I even run into people who have no idea who I am but want my attention anyway. I indulge them, knowing that they’re the reason I’m here. They’re the reason we get to do what we love. The dream isn’t the dream without every last one of them.
“Yo—Sage! We’re grabbin’ some grub,” Lee yells from across the lot. He’s standing with Stefany, who’s busy with something on her phone, along with Heath, Lawful Sinners’ manager, Gabe, Knox, Alex, JJ, and Derrick. Rider and Easton, another couple of guys from Twisted Tuesday, are already piling into one of the SUVs with Nate.
I turn back to a guy who asked for an autograph, handing him the tour flyer before waving goodbye. As I begin to make my way to the group, Clay catches up to me, nudging me with his elbow. I glance over at him and find him grinning as he runs his fingers through his shoulder-length, long hair.
“See you’re getting a taste.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Fuck—it’s even better when you bag a couple of ‘em while you’re in town. Love ‘em and leave ‘em with a big ass smile on their face—like you did them a favor,” he chuckles.
“Not really my thing, Clay.”
“Yeah,” he scoffs, as if I�
�m joking. “Nate used to spout that shit, too. You just haven’t come across a sweet pussy that can’t be denied.”
“Whatever, man,” I grumble, not wishing to listen to anymore of his bullshit.
The truth is, he’s wrong. I have come across a sweet pussy that can’t be denied. Haven’t tasted her in weeks, but I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that she’s the only one I crave.
Fuck.
“Damn—I forgot,” says Clay, pulling me from my thoughts with a snap of his fingers. “That fine piece of ass you got. Promised her a revenge fuck if you couldn’t keep your dick zipped up. I’m beginning to think my chances are slim, eh?”
I stop walking, narrowing my eyes at him as I mutter, “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Sage, man—lighten up,” he laughs, glancing at me from over his shoulder.
“Lighten up?” I snap, my body begging for a fight as my adrenaline begins to course through my veins. “You promised my girl your little dick? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“Come again?” he snarls, turning to face me. We stand toe to toe before he declares, “Mention my dick again and see what happens. I’ll be forced to coax my way into that cunt to let her tell you you don’t even compare. Bet that shit’s tight, too—fits like a glove.”
I let out a roar, my body moving before I have a chance to think better of it. I shove both of my hands against his broad chest, pushing him away from me with everything I’ve got. He stumbles backwards before barreling toward me, lifting his arms to retaliate without a moment’s hesitation. Then, in an instant, the distance between us grows wider as I’m pulled one way and he’s pulled the other.
“Let me go!” I yell, fighting against the resistance around my waist. I know it’s Knox without even looking behind me. He’s pulled me away from enough fights for me to recognize his unyielding hold.
“Calm down, McCoy—goddamn!”
“What on earth is going on here?” asks Stefany. She’s now standing between Clay and me, her arms folded across her chest; her gaze flicking back and forth between us.
Clay sneers at me and I glare at him, wishing Knox would let me go so I could unleash every ounce of fury that burns through me on that fuck face.
“Really? Two seconds ago you were willing to throw down in front of all your fans—fans with smartphones that would make your little cat-fight go viral in minutes—and now, what, you’ve got nothing to say?” she asks with an irritated shrug.
Neither one of us speaks and she throws her arms up in surrender before she starts to walk away.
“Break it up, boys, we’re rolling out to grab some food before the show.”
I shrug out of Knox’s grasp. He doesn’t let me go at first, but when he does, I waste no time heading back to the bus.
“Sage—Sage, where are you going?” he calls out after me.
“Not fucking hungry,” I insist before I climb inside, slamming the door shut behind me.
I pace the length of the bus, indecisive about whether I want to calm down or hold tight to my anger. Five minutes later, when no one comes knocking on the door and I know I’m alone, the numbness begins to trickle through me once more—eradicating my fury against my will.
After another five minutes, I’m slouched down on the couch, my phone in my hand, my thumb guiding me to the number I wish to call. I hit dial and bring the device to my ear just as the line begins to ring. And ring. And ring.
It clicks over to voicemail and I hang up and try again. When the familiar phrase of her recording fills my ear, I sigh in defeat before chucking my phone across the floor.
Fuck!
THE FIRST TIME IT rings, Violet doesn’t say a word. Instead, she takes a careful bite of her pizza, peeks over at me from where she’s sitting—barefoot and cross-legged on the floor, her back propped up against the couch—and then she chews her bite slowly as she directs her attention back to the television, where one of the movies she brought is playing.
The second time it rings, she reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. With the room draped in silence, save the sound of my simple ringtone, she doesn’t speak. Neither do I. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I stare down at the device on the coffee table, my heart clenching as I think of the man on the other side of that call. He usually doesn’t phone two times in a row. He used to, the first couple of days, but not anymore.
“Millie,” Violet murmurs, pulling me from my thoughts.
I clear my throat in response before reaching for my glass of wine.
“Millie, do you want to talk about it? We can talk about it if you want.”
“No,” I whisper, my voice temporarily disabled. I clear my throat another time before I try again. “No,” I manage more clearly.
“Okay,” she starts to say as she turns toward me. “But, you know I’m here? When you’re ready to talk, you know I’m here, right?”
I nod, unable to offer her more as a knot forms in my throat.
I know what she’s saying. I can hear all that she’s kind enough not to say. She knows how he is. She’s got eyes and ears on the other side, and I’m sure she talks to her boyfriend, JJ, everyday. Now she’s here. She’s officially in the middle, ready and willing to play mediator. Only, I’m not ready. I can’t feed my sense of hope like that.
Twenty-one.
Twenty-one more days until he’s home.
Twenty-one more days until I know whether or not the love he spoke of is real.
Violet places a gentle hand on my arm and gives me a light squeeze before she reaches for the remote and resumes the movie. I take another sip of wine and ignore my racing heart.
“PLAY THAT ONE more time?” I ask Maddox. He nods before playing a lick on his brother’s acoustic guitar.
“Wait, do that again,” insists JJ. He turns to his iPad, plucking out his own string of notes on the piano app he’s got pulled up.
“What if you ended that on a minor chord?” I ask once they’ve completed the phrase.
“Like this?” asks JJ before he plays, the last note clashing against the rest just the way I imagined.
“Yeah. Yeah—exactly like that.”
“That’s sick,” pipes in Knox. “Do it again.”
Derrick taps out the beat with his sticks before he begins to drum against his thighs. While Mad Lips strums out the guitar part, JJ fills in the gap with the keys. Once they’ve reached the end of the phrase, they start it up again without pause. I jump in, singing the words I scribbled down just this morning. Alex comes up and stands behind me as we play through the phrase again, humming out a harmony to my melody. JJ smiles over at her as she tries to figure it out. When she’s found the notes that fit, she reads the words and sings with me on our final time through.
None of us realize that we’ve come to a stop, all of us lost in the composition of our newest song. It isn’t until there’s a knock at the door that we’re pulled from our concentration. Stefany invites herself inside and grins at us when she’s sees what we’re up to.
“Can I hear it?” she asks, bouncing on her toes.
A smirk plays at my lips at the excitement in her eyes. Stefany really is the shit—a tiny little thing with an edge that doesn’t go unnoticed. She’s all about the music, full of drive and determination, and just as anxious to see us succeed as we are. Over the last few weeks, she’s really proven that she’s in this with us and we made the right choice when we signed on the dotted line with her.
She runs her fingers through her shoulder-length, wavy, blonde hair, tossing it to the side before folding her arms across her chest, as if she’s arming herself for what she insists she’s about to hear. I would tell her no, that we aren’t finished yet, but I can’t deny that what we’ve got so far is sounding really good.
I look at Derrick and find him already staring me down, waiting for my signal. I offer him a nod and he clicks out the beat before Maddox and JJ start playing. When it’s my cue, I sing the words without hesitation.
“Good
bye was never meant to feel like This?”
The dissonance so loud/ The distance too far
Goodbye was never meant to feel like this
Moving in the dark/ Hiding in the light
Would rather you just hold on
Would rather you just give in
Would rather, baby, anything but This.”
When we’re finished, Stefany studies me for a moment, her eyes telling me something she doesn’t give voice to before she nods and says, “I like that. Sounds great. Can’t wait to hear it when it’s finished.”
“We’ll bust it out,” JJ replies with a shrug. “We’ve got some chill time, yeah?”
“From now until tomorrow night. Welcome to Sacramento, boys and girl! You’re stuck on the bus until we get to L.A., but we’ll get you beds for a couple nights when we move on. We’ll do a grocery run tomorrow and restock the fridge, and there’s a laundry mat not too far from here if you’re interested. And something tells me, after three weeks, you should be really interested.”
Maddox pulls at his t-shirt, bringing it up to his nose before he inhales loudly. He then shrugs and mutters, “Eh. I’m good.”
“Boys are gross,” Alex tells Stefany.
“That’s the God’s honest truth,” she replies with a laugh.
“My girl’s meeting up with us in L.A. If I don’t do laundry, she’ll be all over my ass when she gets here. I’m in.”
“Vi’s coming?” I mutter, pleasantly surprised by the news.
“Hell, yeah—M&Ms original roadie!” cries Maddox.
“You know that means we all have to do laundry, right?” Knox asks with a laugh.
“I knew I liked that girl,” says Stefany with a grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve been cooped up for a bit, but I’ve got an offer you don’t want to refuse.”
“Lay it on us.”
“There’s this seedy little bar close by. I can’t explain why, but it’s a must whenever I’m in town. We’re all heading over now to shoot the shit before we hit the sack.”