by Sol Crafter, Diana Sheridan, Talya Andor, Lacie J. Archer, Angel Propps
"Really? It's the questions that you think were the problem, there?" Tor asked, his voice rising.
Bailey loosed a short, irritable sigh and instead of answering, marched out onto the butcher paper, taking up a neutral position in the center. They typically went through a number of solo photos, then group shots, but today the director seemed focused on getting a number of different group compositions.
They went through a couple of different poses, and Bailey made his camera face for all he was worth. Things were going well, until the shoot director told Gunner to drape a hand over Bailey's shoulder for the next shot. There was a moment of hesitation while Bailey's face froze. A hand crept over his shoulder, fingers settling over his collarbone.
It was too much. Bailey jerked away, striding off the butcher paper. The people he passed were wide-eyed and seemed to be holding their breath. Bailey stormed off without looking back, banging the side door and entering the empty hallway that would take him to their shared dressing room.
He folded his arms tightly across his chest and paced back and forth across the small room, his heels clacking sharply on the concrete floor. Three circuits of the room later, the door swung open and Tor eased inside the dressing room, shutting the door behind him.
"You know one of the things I admire about you, Bailey?" Tor asked rhetorically. "It's that you never let your emotions affect your work."
Bailey turned and gave him a sulky look, dropping into one of the dressing room chairs and grabbing a bottle of chilled vodka from the minibar. "Make me a Cosmo, will you, Tor?"
"What do you say?" Tor wheedled.
Bailey tried the pout again, and when it didn't work, he replied, "Please?" He added wide puppy eyes for good measure.
Tor sighed but crossed the room and took the bottle of vodka from his hand, unscrewing the cap and turning back to the minibar. He began to measure and pour into a silver mixer.
"We can't keep doing this, Bailey," Tor said, decanting the reddish-pink cocktail into a martini glass and walking it over to hand it to Bailey. He flicked the bowl of the glass with a blunt fingernail. "It's going to tear the whole damn thing apart."
"Maybe I want to," Bailey said, but he knew as well as Tor that he didn't mean it. Courage Wolf was too important to him—to them—for any of them to let it fall apart now. Bailey drank his Cosmo, sucked it up, and stood, setting the glass aside. He nodded to Tor. "Let's go finish this, then."
Tor smirked. "Better," he acknowledged. They left the dressing room together, bumping shoulders along the way.
"So we'll put on a smile and get this over with, shall we?" Bailey said.
"You are good at that," Tor said.
Bailey sailed through the door and summoned up the energy, and his promised smile. He might need a reminder, but he could put his feelings aside to get the work done.
*~*~*
Three days later, they were all together for a radio show and working on more promo for the upcoming album. Their schedule was now so packed and they were traveling to different performances, staying at hotels together, not on the road the way they would be when they were touring again, but basically in one another's pockets. It was usually a fun kind of gauntlet for all of them, getting into the swing of things and joking and slipping into their stage personas.
Bailey was the opposite of a morning person, and it was hard to get him motivated on the days when their schedule was so packed that they had to get up and moving for ridiculously early a.m. appointments. Usually his bandmates would rotate bringing him the first coffee of the day and go from there. The morning of the radio show, Bailey woke to Sasha's unsmiling face.
"Mergh," Bailey said, trying to shut the door, but Sasha's foot came down too fast. Drummer-fast reflexes, Bailey thought, still bleary. He ran a hand through his hair and discovered half of it was sticking up from sleeping on that side.
"Could be worse," Sasha told him, shoving a cup of coffee at him. Wisps of steam curled up from the slit in the safety lid.
"Oh?" Bailey murmured, cupping the coffee between his hands and raising it to his lips.
"It would've been Gunner's turn," Sasha said, his face expressionless.
Bailey choked on his coffee. "You're such an ass," he said, turning and leaving the door open.
"You going to be good to stay mobile?" Sasha asked, remaining at the door.
"Glug," Bailey replied, after coughing a few times to clear his windpipe. He drank some more coffee and stood in the middle of his hotel room, staring vacantly around as he tried to remember the next thing he was supposed to do. Clothes, he thought; then he shook his head and looked toward the bathroom. Shower, it occurred to him, but as he headed for the bathroom, he clutched his coffee and made a disconsolate noise. He didn't want his coffee to get cold.
"Maybe you should put some clothes on and come over for breakfast at Tor's, first," Sasha said.
"But I'm a mess," Bailey said, lifting a hand up to pass over his tousled hair again.
Sasha smirked at him. "Don't worry, it's not the first time we've seen you looking hungover and wrecked, and it won't be the last."
Bailey put on an unamused look. "Funny. Who all is having breakfast next door, then?"
"You know, Tor, Jonn …" Sasha trailed off and his normally stoic expression turned uncomfortable.
"Uh-huh," Bailey said, filling in the blank for himself. "Thanks, I can order up for myself."
"You really should join us," Sasha said, uttering a brief sigh. "You can't keep avoiding him forever."
"We'll see about that!" Bailey said sharply. He shook his head and looked around, sipping more coffee. The anger, along with the kick that the caffeine gave him, was definitely helping him shake off his sluggishness.
Sasha shook his head and withdrew. "All right, but we're going over strategy for the radio show."
"You can brief me when we're on the way in the van," Bailey said, turning his back on Sasha and heading for the phone.
"You know …" Sasha began, and fell silent.
Bailey swung around, cupping his coffee between both hands, but Sasha was gone, leaving the door behind him to swing shut quietly. He supposed there really was nothing left to say.
Bailey remembered how it had been, as recently as the last tour. The four of them had acted like one big happy family, brothers, and coming from an only-child background as he had, it had been one of the perks of being a member of Courage Wolf. He wanted to get past his anger at Gunner, but he just couldn't seem to let it go. It didn't help that Gunner didn't seem remotely repentant. He was doing as much ignoring on his end as Bailey was. There had been no attempt to apologize, after everything he'd said.
That had cut Bailey up, and he couldn't forgive it. He couldn't move on.
He finished his coffee and jumped in the shower before his room service delivered, wolfed down his food once it arrived and glanced at the clock, squawked, and hurried through his preparations to get dressed and made up. He styled his hair and paused before the mirror, gazing at his reflection before giving it a brief, satisfied nod.
The rest of the group was waiting downstairs, along with Jonn and a couple of production assistants and their security.
"They found us," Jonn said without preamble.
Bailey groaned and sidled behind the bulk of the nearest security guard, peering around him to glance outside the lobby. 'They' meant one thing—the fans, who somehow managed to discover every hotel and camp outside to ask for pictures and autographs.
Sure enough, he saw a press of bodies outside the glass doors, and a few signs as well. Some of them involved glitter.
Bailey winced and turtled behind his security guard again. "How are we going to do this?" he asked, patting his pockets. He didn't have so much as a Sharpie to sign some autographs to parlay their way to the curb. "Isn't the van parked out front?"
"Yes," Jonn said, sounding harassed. "Shell game."
Bailey's brow furrowed, but when he looked over at Tor, Tor was nodding.
&nbs
p; "We'll get the van pulled up to the front door," Jonn said, "and a couple of security guards will go out front, but in the meantime, Shana is getting another van down to the basement garage."
"Ahh," Bailey said, nodding. "I like it."
"We can't afford to get stuck in that crowd, signing autographs for twenty minutes or more," Jonn said. "We need to get you all to the radio station, and we needed to leave five minutes ago."
"Did I put us behind schedule?" Bailey wondered. He put his hands to his hips, annoyed because he'd hustled, and didn't want it to have been for nothing.
Tor shook his head. "No, we've been debating strategy down here for five minutes anyhow," he reassured Bailey at once.
"We could have been out and moving by now, if we hadn't been cooling our heels waiting around," Gunner remarked, seemingly to no one. Bailey stiffened, but he wasn't going to let himself be baited.
"That's enough," Jonn said absently. "Let's get back to the elevators." Two of their security detail detached and went for the front, to board the van, and the rest of their group got moving toward the elevator. Security would take the van out front to the radio station and meet them there.
"I can't believe we have to do this," Tor muttered, following Bailey onto the elevator.
"What, you mean you don't like it when girls jump at you for a full-body clinch, legs around your waist, and try to eat your face?" Sasha inquired, straight-faced.
"Ugh, shut up," Tor said, flailing a hand out. "That happened in Ohio."
Bailey snickered. He remembered that all too well, along with Tor's forlorn "Trevor? Help?" from beneath the squirming bundle of writhing girl. The expression dropped from his face as he recalled Gunner comparing him to that kind of unwanted advance. At the same time, he glanced up while he turned around, and his eyes met Gunner's as Gunner boarded the elevator. Gunner's mouth was compressed into a thin line.
Bailey jerked, his spine stiffening and bringing him to his full height, and he crossed his arms, turning to face Tor so that he wouldn't have to look at Gunner. Beside him, Tor sighed.
"What?" Bailey snapped.
"It's going to be one of those days," Tor replied cryptically.
Bailey wanted to retort fuck you, but Jonn was in the cab with them, so he figured he'd said enough for now. "I'm going to need more coffee," he warned everyone, and Nora, the production assistant that he shared with Tor, slanted a knowing look over her shoulder.
"You'll have to wait until we get there," Nora replied.
They boarded the van that Shana had driven into the underground garage and made their way to the radio show without further incident.
"This is going to throw us off schedule," Bailey fretted as they pulled into the parking lot outside of the radio station. There, at least the station had decent security and the fans who were grouped outside at that ungodly hour waving signs and chanting were barred from access. They had swarmed close enough to the van to give Bailey a fright, though. He had paranoid visions of the van being surrounded and pushed onto its side.
"We're on schedule," Jonn said mechanically, but he looked harassed nonetheless. He held up his tablet. "I built some cat-wrangling time into the radio show scheduling."
"Cute," Bailey said, guessing that he was the cat. He glanced around the crowded back seats of the van. He was piled in close beside Tor, their long legs folded up in the cramped confines. Behind them, Gunner and Sasha were expressionless.
It gave Bailey a brief pang. They had been so close, all of them, and now the banter they'd enjoyed was replaced with stiff tension. Once upon a time, someone would have made a joke based on Jonn's use of the term cat-wrangling and it would have dissolved into good-humored jabs and laughing. The nostalgia was so keen, Bailey was considering different angles for an apology, or at least an overture, to soften Gunner up. If he had to be the bigger person to save them, then he could do that.
As Bailey climbed out of the van, he hesitated for a moment, unsteady on his heels. Gunner knocked into him on his way out, nearly causing Bailey to eat pavement if not for Sasha's quick grab to steady him.
"Watch it," Gunner said crossly. "Do you always have to hold up everything?"
Bailey's nostalgic feelings evaporated in an instant. "Watch yourself," he replied, mouth twitching with irritation as he caught Tor leveling a warning look on him. He'd been about to add something worse, like watch where you put your feet if not your dick, but a last vestige of sense told him it would be unwise, at least where their manager could hear.
They were prepped for the radio show by the production staff, and Jonn and their own production assistants waited in a little room beyond the sound studio, where they would be able to listen in on the show. It was live, and Bailey was glad this wasn't his first. He was in rough shape that morning, and it wasn't because he was out of practice.
Everything was off-kilter, and nothing was like before. He wasn't sure what could restore their equilibrium at this point. An apology wasn't forthcoming, nor would Bailey render one.
Jonn had told him to patch things up, and between the two of them, they'd just made it worse.
"You're on in three," a production assistant told them, and opened the sound studio door so that they could troop in and don headphones while a song played during the break.
The two radio hosts, Jack and Carly, gave them thumbs up as they got settled.
"And we're back from the break, live with Courage Wolf," Jack declared, as the sign on the wall shifted to 'broadcasting.' "Tell me, guys, how the hell have you been since the last time I've seen you?"
"Very well, thank you!" Bailey replied for all of them, as per usual.
"And you've got a new album out already," Carly praised them. "Great news for the fans who've been dying for another since that last single. It feels like way too long since I've heard a Courage Wolf song on the radio."
"We aren't quite like anyone else," Bailey said proudly.
"And we're modest," Sasha added, dry.
Everyone shared a laugh over that. "No, but with chart numbers like yours, there's really no need to be!" Jack exclaimed. "Tell me more about that new album."
"Hmm … it's going to be different, but the same," Tor spoke up, sounding completely serious.
"And what the heck does that mean?" Jack said, pulling a comical expression, laughter in his voice.
"Well, Tor means we've worked pretty hard to stay true to our core sound, but at the same time, we've explored a lot of different ways to arrange our songs, make everything sound amazing and fresh, you know …"
They got into the swing of things quickly; Jack and Carly were polished radio hosts and drew all of them out with questions and banter. There was never a moment of dead air as they went from one topic to another. Radio shows were typically their favorite, because all of them could let their personalities a bit more out of the box.
"Now, everyone knows that the guitarists are the sex gods of the group," Carly said, directing her attention toward Tor and Gunner. "I know they're always my favorite! With two sexy guitarists, how do the two of you divide up all the girls?"
Tor, who had been mostly silent until now, picked up the question. "Well, you know, when it's between two such sexy guys, we make it a difficult competition," he answered with a low laugh. "Even if Gunner does play bass guitar."
Carly's brows rose and she looked excited. "Sounds like you've got a fair amount of admiration, yourself!"
"It's true, Gunner is hard to resist," Tor said.
"I'm impossible to resist!" Gunner declared, grinning. "Even Tor isn't immune to my charms."
"It might be difficult to resist if there was charm," Bailey interjected across their banter. "Unfortunately for Gunner, he has to get by on looks."
It could have come across as a joke, but it was delivered too viciously. Gunner stopped grinning at once, and Carly turned surprised eyes on him.
Jack picked up the slack, cutting in at once. "Unfortunately for me, Gunner is way better looking than I will ever be,
even though I play guitar myself. So, Courage Wolf, how soon will your fans be able to see you in person? I know that's going to be the question on everyone's minds, when they can expect a tour instead of hearing you on the radio, or if they're very lucky, getting to see you at a meet and greet."
Bailey fidgeted with a heavy ring on one of his fingers and looked away when Gunner stood, removed his headphones, and left the sound studio without a word. He couldn't bring himself to glance in Tor's direction, either. He already knew the disappointment and recrimination he'd see there, and it made him restless and impatient. Gunner deserved what he got. Even that much wasn't enough.
"Well, Jack, we've been working with our team on that, and we're not ready to announce dates just yet, although we are getting excited that we're near to closing the deal on tour details," Tor replied for Bailey.
They finished up the interview without Gunner, and Tor covered it with a quick, offhand comment about Gunner needing to use the toilet. Jack played off that with a joke about performance anxiety, and Bailey assured him that wasn't the case, relating a quick anecdote from their morning and how they'd almost been trapped in their hotel by fangirls. He made it sound like a narrow escape, much more exciting than it had been.
"The delay would cause anyone to have bladder problems, and God knows we all drink a lot of coffee," Bailey said with a laugh.
"It's the only way to get rock stars out of bed at o-dark-thirty," Tor added. "Bailey has a personal assistant just to bring him coffee."
Bailey rolled his eyes. It was almost true.
At last their time was up, Jack and Carly thanked them and recapped album info for the fans, and Bailey led Tor and Sasha in a quick promo spot for the radio show. They excused themselves as a production assistant put on some music to cover their exit.
They shook hands with Jack and Carly, and got some pictures. Gunner was outside the sound studio, arms crossed, and stood with them for the photos looking sullen. He did shake hands with the radio hosts, though, but excused himself quickly. Sasha and Courage Wolf's assistants followed.