by Lori L. Otto
So after Max was born, and Jon was about twelve, he essentially took over as the head of our household–and Mom let him. So did I. I respected him and listened to him. I was four years younger, and he was always my hero. He rescued me more times than I can remember. I knew whatever he told me to do was for my own good, so I obeyed. When he studied, and I was finished with my homework, I’d stick around him and follow along. He picked up on my interest in math and science, so he’d hold off on those subjects until last, just so I could learn along with him.
By the time I got to high school, I tested out of all the classes I could, and took college-level courses while the majority of my classmates learned concepts and theories and lessons I’d mastered years ago. My teachers were ill-equipped to teach me, but I didn’t really need them. I had books and a brain. Jon had taught me the basics, and if I had any questions, I could call him and he could talk me through anything.
To this day, I know I wouldn’t be where I am without my brother. I have no doubt it’s part of the reason he’s so pissed at me. He probably thinks I was just a waste of his time. That I’m throwing away years and years of schooling and money to go do trivial work like play in a band.
“Wanna kill some zombies with us?” Damon asks on his way to the TV.
“Nah,” I tell him, shutting myself back into my bunk. After losing hours of my life lost in a video game a few months ago, I vowed to never play again. Sure, it got my mind off things, but I’d never felt so useless in my life. I remember the joy it used to bring me when I was a teenager; when playing a game was a luxury to me. It was an escape from my mother and the adult responsibilities I faced at home. When I realized I’d ignored an important phone call from my sixteen-year-old brother, Max, just because I was busy racing virtual ATVs with Tavo and Damon, I told myself I’d never make such a poor decision again. Max had been through a difficult few months. I’m happy he and his boyfriend are in a good place now. It made me feel much better about this tour than I did toward the middle of the summer when I caught the two of them together.
Until then, no one knew Max was gay.
“Why are we stopping?” I hear Peron ask. “Will?”
I look out the window and see the venue we’re playing in about twenty-one hours. “We’re here.” Ben parks the bus in some gravel a few buildings away from the mid-sized club.
“That was fast.”
“We went from New York to P.A., man. What were you expecting?”
“A good night’s sleep,” he says.
I poke my head out to see him looking at me. “That ended last night. You realize that, right? This is life with Damon. Get used to it.”
“You guys wanna go get a drink?” When Damon asks, it’s not really a question. He expects us all to go with him, and we always have fun, regardless of the fact that I don’t drink.
“Let me put on some clothes.”
“We’ll have much better luck if you don’t,” Tavo says.
“Luck doing what?” I ask, grabbing the shorts I’d had on earlier and a vintage Radiohead t-shirt. “Need I remind you we’re on a bus?”
“Nobody said we couldn’t go home with someone.”
“Good point,” I say, then lean over and whisper to Peron. “Now that’s the key to getting a good night’s sleep. You get ‘em out of the bus, you’re home free.”
“I think I’ll stay back,” he says.
“No,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of bed. “We all go for a few rounds. You know the drill. Don’t be the buzzkill on day one, Peron.”
“Brooke doesn’t want me out in bars, Will,” he says as I step into the bathroom to change.
“Uhhh, buddy? You realize a third of the places we’re playing are bars, right?”
“I have permission to go in those.”
“Whoa.” I step around the corner once I’ve got my shorts on and pull the shirt over my head, looking seriously at Peron. “Permission? This doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.”
“Do something with your hair. You’re coming with us.”
“Will…”
“If we have to fucking play a song there so you’re allowed to go, then I’ll bring my guitar, but you’re going in.”
He nods and ducks into the bathroom to check his hair. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and pull on my worn Vans, then pick up my wallet on the way to the door. “You wearing that?” I ask Tavo, looking at the shirt he’d spilled food on hours ago. “They’ll smell you comin’.”
“Fuck.”
“Damon, come on. I’ve got Peron. You’re supposed to watch Tavo. That was the deal.” We both laugh, but there’s always been a little truth behind it. Tavo tends to do whatever Damon asks, and if Peron needs a little arm-twisting, the band turns to me.
“We gonna find you a lady tonight?” he asks me.
“Nah, I’m good. I feel strong today.” He pats me on the back. “That could change in the flutter of an eyelash, though, so don’t hold me to that.”
“I’ll follow your lead, man.”
“Peron!” I yell once Tavo’s joined us with what I assume is a fresh shirt, although I can’t tell through the wrinkles.
“Coming!”
“You guys are paying your own tabs tonight,” Ben tells us as he emerges from the driver’s seat, locking his ledger in a small safe he’d purchased. “The band isn’t ready to foot the bill yet.”
“Man, fuck you, Damon,” I say, punching him lightly in the chest as I push past him and out the door.
“Yeah, Damon,” Tavo says, following suit.
“Just wait until tomorrow. The sky’s the limit, boys. We’re gonna be rollin’ in it. Just wait. Our lives are about to drastically change.”
I can’t wipe the grin from my face at the prospect of that. I really, truly believe my best friend. He has the charisma and talent to make it happen–and his back-up band’s not so bad, either.
Chapter 2
This bar is much busier than I expected for such a small college town–especially because it seems too early for fall classes to have started up already.
“Damon Littlefield!” the bartender yells, fist-bumping my friend over a row of patrons leaning into his bar. “Welcome! What can I get you?”
Everyone within earshot turns to look at him, eyes wide, jaws dropped. They part so he can move closer to the bar. We’ve been in our New York bubble for so long, I wasn’t sure how he’d be received outside the city. Ben assured us we were getting lots of airplay all over the country, and the charts showed that, but reality really didn’t set in until this moment.
“Oh my God, you’re Will,” a girl informs me, clinging to my arm.
“Yeah,” I tell her with a smile. “What’s your name?”
“Jo,” she says. “This is my roommate Annie.”
“Nice to meet you both. Is it always this crazy here?”
“We moved into our dorms this week,” Jo tells me. “Classes don’t start until Wednesday, so it’s our first weekend back. We’re catching up with old friends… meeting new ones…” She drags her hand down my chest.
“Right.”
Damon hands me a tumbler of what appears to be soda on ice, but could easily be mistaken for his standard Jack and Coke. I take a sip to make sure he gave me the right drink. “Thanks, man.”
“I got you,” he tells me with a nod.
“Peron, right?” Annie says as she looks over my shoulder. I turn around, not realizing he was even standing there.
“Yeah. Hey.”
“Peron, this is Jo and Annie. I’m guessing you ladies go to Penn State?”
“Good guess…”
“The, uh… Nittany Lions, right?”
“Yes!” They both laugh and cheer a little.
“What is a Nittany Lion, anyway?” Peron asks.
“A mountain lion from the Nittany Valley area. Keep up, Peron.”
“Is that true?” Annie asks.
“You don’t know the history of your own
mascot? Wait, are you freshmen? Are you old enough to be in here?” I ask them, teasing.
“We’re seniors!” they say in unison.
“Probably not in any sororities. I think they make you learn that sort of thing…”
“No…”
“Cool.”
“You don’t seem Greek, either.”
“No?” I ask them. “What do I seem?”
“A little rough around the edges…”
“In five minutes, you get rough around the edges?” I ask them with a laugh.
“We’ve been to a few of your shows in Manhattan. And we’ve seen some videos.”
“Videos, huh?” I take a drink of my Coke and bite the inside of my cheek, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
“You and Damon. You’re kind of the playboys of the group, right?”
“My reputation precedes me.” My hand finds its way to my hair and starts tugging. I survey the room, only to find many, many more eyes on me. I turn around to Peron. “Is there something on my face?”
“No,” he says back to me. “Why?”
“Just feels like everyone’s looking at me.”
“I think they are,” he confirms. “No different than any other night.”
“We don’t mind,” Jo says.
“Huh?” I ask, not remembering what we were talking about.
“That you’re a playboy.” She licks her lips and does that fluttering thing with her lashes. Fuck. “We’ll be at the show tomorrow. We have tickets.”
“That’s great,” I say, nodding my head.
“Do you ever pick two?”
“Two what?” I ask Jo, already knowing the answer, but wondering if she’s brazen enough to suggest it. Her crimson cheeks hint that she’s not.
“Two girls,” Annie says for her. “At once.”
“Oh, God,” I hear Peron mumble behind me.
“S’that what you’re into?” I ask them.
“Will?” Peron says loud enough for all of us to hear. “Remember what we talked about?”
I turn around and shoot him a death stare. “I’ve got this under control.”
“Damn it, Will…”
“No,” I say bluntly to the girls, not letting them answer my question. Peron’s right. I shouldn’t lead them on. “I don’t ever ‘pick two.’ If you’re into that, Damon’s your guy.”
They both shake their heads. “We’re just both into you.”
“Ahhh,” I say. “Well, I’d hate to come between two friends. I’m not worth it. Trust me.”
“I’ll be the judge!” Jo blurts out, then covers her mouth, surprised at her own outburst. Annie looks over at her, brows furrowed. Instinctively, I pull Jo’s hand away from her mouth. I hadn’t realized how captivated I’d been by her lips until she hid them from me. Little, subtle things always lure me in. I glance back up to her eyes, and they lock with mine. She does this thing where she barely squints them for a split second, and it’s about the sexiest thing she could have done short of stripping down to the thong I know she’s wearing, right here in front of me. I take one step and put my hand behind her ear, bringing her head to mine so I can feel those luscious, wanting lips on mine.
Fuck their friendship. Jo’s a fantastic kisser. I pull her body flush with mine. I want to feel her curves, but I’m mindful of where we are, and keep my hands above her waist. She’s not as considerate, though, as I notice her hands wandering down my ass. It’s nice; if I were a woman, I’d be curious, too.
“You like that?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Take me back to your place.”
“Ohhh,” I groan, nuzzling her nose with mine. “If we were in Manhattan, we’d be on our way, but I don’t have ‘a place’ here.” I pull away to show her my disappointment.
“We can go back to mine,” she suggests, and we both look at Annie. She makes it very clear that’s not an option.
“You know what, Jo? That’s, uh… yeah, I can’t do that anyway. This isn’t a good idea.”
“Why?” she whines.
I kiss her again to stop the noise–and to feel that feeling again, because it’s a nice feeling.
“I honestly don’t even have a valid reason for you. I’m sorry.” I shake my head and release her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Or touched you…”
“Seriously?” she asks, getting angry.
“Again, I’m really sorry. It’s not you, it’s–” I stop myself before I can finish that horrible, regrettable sentence. No matter how true it is, it still sounds condescending as hell and is likely to get me slapped across the face. “I didn’t come in here looking for this.”
“Will and I,” Peron says, speaking up, “we just needed a drink to clear our heads. We’ve been trying to write all night, and nothing’s coming. Just a lot on our minds, and yeah… he wasn’t looking for a distraction, but you know… you’re just his type, and he gets off-track sometimes. It’s just his nature. He can’t help it… playboy…” He repeats what they’d said about me.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Jo doesn’t look to be the forgiving type at all. I glance over at Annie. “Look, if you didn’t like how she kissed, you can try me…”
“You bitch!” Jo says, pushing her friend.
“Ladies, like I said to start with, I am not worth it. Can I call you both a cab back to your dorm?”
“I am not going back to the dorm alone,” Jo says, adamant.
“Me, neither,” Annie says.
“All right, then. I guess I’m off the hook. Peron?”
“Bus?”
“Yep.”
“Why did we have to come in here?” he asks me on our way through the crowd.
“Because part of this whole… thing… is to get people to come to the shows. To get more people interested in Damon. To sell as many tickets as possible. To make money. To be a success. We can’t hide out on the fucking bus and achieve results.”
“Well, then why are we going back?”
“Because that was a disaster,” I say, stopping halfway through the parking lot and pointing to the club. “That’s exactly what we don’t want to do. Those girls were already going to the show. Had tickets. I pissed them off.”
“Where’s your radar, Will? Your test? They were drunk. They’ll forget all about this by morning anyway. Forget about it and stop beating yourself up.”
“Fuck.”
“Stop pulling your hair. You’re gonna regret it when you’re thirty and have a hairline like mine.” I’m a few inches taller than him, and I know for a fact it’s worse than he knows it is. He’s reaching comb-over stage, but I don’t have the heart to tell him. Still, I know baldness is hereditary. My brothers and I have good genes, and plus–I’m not pulling it that hard.
“Day one, man. Day fucking one, and I can’t make it through a half-hour without wanting the first pretty girl I see. I’m hopeless.” I kick someone’s tire, setting off a car alarm. Peron and I assume the same posture–hands in pockets, ambling casually away from the noise as if we had nothing to do with it. It’s obvious we come from the same side of the tracks and got into our share of mischief growing up. Neither of us were the cause of any trouble; we were both just typically in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We make it back to the bus, but realize too late that we have no way to get inside.
“Text Ben,” I tell Peron, once again too busy with my hair to mess with my phone. “Tell him he parked illegally.”
“Did he?”
“No, but he won’t come out here if we just tell him we want inside. We’re reneging on our jobs, remember? The boss isn’t gonna like this.”
“Technically, Damon’s the boss,” Peron reminds me, “and I think he’d understand. He knows what you’re trying to do, and Will?”
“Did you text him?”
“I did. Are you listening to me?” He slaps my hands away from my head. “You walked away from her, man. She invited you back to her place, and you
said no.”
“So the fuck what? I never go back to a girl’s place.”
“Well, I guarantee if you wanted the bus, you could have gotten the keys and had fifteen minutes alone with her. You didn’t do that, either. So what if you wanted her? You didn’t take her. You. Walked. Away.”
“I should have walked away about ten minutes earlier.”
“Did the cops come by?” Ben hollers at us. “Who says I parked illegally? I checked for signs.”
“I saw one on the other side,” I lie to him.
“Where?”
“Just let us in the fucking bus already.”
“Show me the sign!”
“There’s no sign, Ben. I just need on the bus before I piss off all the women inside that bar.”
“What’d you do?”
“He just turned someone down. That’s it,” Peron answers for me.
Our manager gives me a displeased look. “We’re on a mission of goodwill, Will. Not… bad-will. You’ve got to turn your… your Will around. I know you have this idea of drastic life changes, but they’re kind of in direct conflict with our mission. Do you see that?”
“Shut up,” Peron says as I stare blankly at Ben. “He can do both.”
“Apparently he can’t.”
“Open the door, Ben,” I say, flexing the muscles in my fingers.
“You pussies can’t hibernate on this bus while the rest of us bust our asses to bring these people to our shows. That wasn’t the deal,” he says as he unlocks the door and tosses the keys inside.
“I’m well aware of the deal. Appreciate the empathy,” I say sarcastically, walking back to my bunk and stripping out of my shirt. “You’re a good man.”
“Fuck you, Will. I’m not your therapist. Grow a pair.”
“Fuck you!” I yell back, throwing my shirt at him. “I’m trying not to make things worse tonight. That’s all I’m doing.”
“Yeah, this all feels good to me!” he shouts back. “I’m feeling great about things!” He walks out the door, but immediately bumps into someone before he takes the step to the ground level. “Well, hello there.”