by DC Renee
“We usually like to go celebrate after the first show,” Grennan told me after we lay in our new comfortable bus bed. “But we don’t have time today since we have another show tomorrow.”
“What do you usually do to celebrate?” I asked.
“Party.” He shrugged as if that was an everyday occurrence. Most people didn’t perform live and then party like that, but I guess it was normal for him. “It helps after getting so pumped up,” he explained. “I don’t need that, though, anymore; not now that I have you. This was the perfect ending to the first show.” He kissed my lips, tucked me to his side, and was out like a light in seconds.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but it must have been shortly after Grennan had passed out. I never heard the guys come back on the bus, but I heard some snoring coming from the bunks when I woke with a start. Grennan was still dead to the world beside me, his arm draped around my middle.
I took a moment to recall what had woken me, but when I did, I was confused. It had been a nightmare—no, not exactly a nightmare. It was a twist on reality. I had been back on stage with Grennan during the dress rehearsal, and I had my panic attack the same way I had in real life. I guess the experience had been more traumatic for me than I realized. I still didn’t fully understand why, though. I had an issue with being the center of attention, so I guess it sort of translated to that moment, but it still didn’t make sense. This time, in my dream, my mind hadn’t shut down completely as it had in real life. I heard words; I heard phrases, things that seemed like snippets of a poem.
Then I came to in Grennan’s arms just like I had, but he wasn’t whispering I was okay; he was humming, his voice calming me down more than his arms even. I didn’t know the tune, and I couldn’t recall it once I had woken up, but the words twirling in my mind were still there, waiting to get out.
I crawled out of bed quietly, not that it would have mattered if I made a racket. Once Grennan was out, he was out. I never knew a heavier sleeper than him.
I rummaged around with the light of my cell phone for a pen and paper from my bag and sat back down on the edge of the bed. I was sure my hand was moving faster than my brain, but when I looked down at the paper, I was pleasantly shocked with what I had written down.
In this world of shadows,
The darkness doesn’t hide.
I wish there were no others
Only you and me.
But even in the light,
The shadows find their place.
They escape their corners,
Following us around.
I look to you for safety,
I look to you for strength.
Because when there are others,
You’re my guiding light.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
I don’t like it there.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
It wouldn’t be fair.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
I won’t follow you.
Just tempt me with light,
And I will be true.
In this world of evil,
The creatures are all real.
But I know that there is goodness,
To be had here.
I just have to hide,
Where the shadows cannot reach.
But that seems like a pointless task,
Because they’re following me.
But I look to you for comfort,
I look to you for refuge.
Because I know you’ll draw me out,
And bring me to the light.
You are my security, you are not my fear.
But when it’s all said and done, you might not want to be near.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
I don’t like it there.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
It wouldn’t be fair.
Don’t tempt me with darkness,
I won’t follow you.
Just tempt me with light,
And I will be true.
I wasn’t sure what I was looking at or where it came from exactly. I had never attempted to write a poem, or rather, what looked like the lyrics of a song, but it had poured out of me like it was natural. And the words were hauntingly beautiful. Even though they were my own, I could say that with confidence. I didn’t know what they meant or what it said about me. I thought that maybe the darkness was alluding to my insecurities, to my earlier panic attack. But I knew the safety net I sought had to be Grennan.
I had felt a resounding sense of calm once my hand was moving rapidly and jotting down the words. I looked over at Grennan sleeping and smiled shyly even though no one could see me blush, but the first thought I had wasn’t highly appropriate. You transferred your sense of music to me, I thought to myself. That wasn’t the inappropriate part; what had me quietly giggling was how he transferred it. I knew that bodily fluids, although capable of transferring several things, did not transfer musical talent. But some kind of rubbing off was obviously going on since it wasn’t a coincidence I came up with a song—however good or bad it was—right after watching and listening to Grennan perform at his first show.
I wasn’t sure if this was a one-time thing or not, but I liked knowing we had a little something extra in common. I wasn’t sure I would tell him, fearing embarrassment, but this would not be my last time putting thoughts to paper. As I put the pad and pen down, and climbed back into bed, I just wondered what my mind would come up with next.
Grennan
Brooklyn’s panic attack had gotten to me. For a brief moment when I cradled her in my arms and she wasn’t responding, my mind feared the worst. I tried to imagine the world without her and couldn’t. There was no world without her. And then when she smiled at me, I felt like I could stand on the moon, no gravity suit required.
After that, I watched her closely for a bit, and I noticed that sometimes she looked lonely, her eyes taking on a faraway look. Homesickness, I figured. I’d gotten it on my first tour too, but I had the guys with me, and they were practically my family. I decided to bring a little bit of her home to her in the form of Cassidy.
So I called Cassidy and set it all up. She would stay with us on the tour for about a week before she had to be at some event.
I had a car pick her up that weekend and bring her directly to the venue of our show.
Ur lackey is bringing me to u guys, she texted me when James, a roadie, offered to help and lead her to the room we were hanging out in so it would be a complete surprise.
“You guys had better not be having sex in there.” I heard Cassidy’s voice loud and clear as the door opened. My eyes didn’t leave Brook’s face as it went through confusion, then understanding, then surprise, then pure joy.
“Cass?” She jumped up and turned toward the open door.
“Thanks, James, I got it from here.” When she dismissed James, I had to cover my laugh with a cough.
“What? What are you doing here?” Brooklyn asked as she all but tackled Cassidy.
“Seems like your boyfriend here thought you might miss me. I guess he’s not doing a good enough job of keeping you occupied. Isn’t that right, Grennan?” She chuckled. “Are we having some mini Grennan issues?”
“Oh my God, Cass, I really did miss you,” Brook responded.
“I missed you too, Brook. But now that I’m here, we’re going to have some fun.”
They broke away, and Brook all but trampled me as she hugged me. “Grennan, that was so sweet of you. Thank you so much.” She kissed me with everything she had.
“Just want to see you happy, Brooklyn.”
“You make me happy,” she answered, emphasizing you, and I felt like I won the freaking lottery. Damn, I was turning into a sap around her, but hell, if I got these reactions, I’d turn into a fucking My Little Pony for her. Don’t ask me how I knew about My Little Ponies. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.
I saw the lonely shadows and the faraway looks disappear during that w
eek, and I knew I had done the right thing, even though I had to share Brook’s time with Cassidy. They did “girl stuff,” whatever the heck that was, and we did things together as a group and just the three of us. It was great. The only time I almost regretted having Cassidy was when she tried to kick me out of Brook’s bed.
“I’m taking the bed, lover boy. You’ll get Brook back when I’m gone.”
“Cass, you’re Brooklyn’s best friend, so I like you. But I don’t like you enough to let you steal her away from me.”
“You survived plenty of nights when you two were apart before the tour.”
“Who says I survived?” I retorted. “And that was before. This is different.”
“Cass, I love you, but I love sleeping with Grennan too,” Brooklyn interrupted us. I had a feeling she would say more, but Cody chimed in too.
“This side of the bus is better, Cass,” he said. “I promise to keep you thoroughly entertained the entire time you’re here.”
“I’m sure you will, but I don’t really consider listening to you jack off as entertainment. Although,” she pretended to muse, “it might be fun to hear the names you call your hands.”
It didn’t take a genius to see that Cody had been trying his hardest to get into Cassidy’s pants from literally the minute I introduced her to the guys. Gavin and Trevor had tried their luck with her a few times, but Cody was selling the hardest. Cassidy wasn’t buying, though.
After some finagling, some coercion, and a bribe on my part, which involved a shopping spree in the next town with unlimited use of my credit card, Cassidy agreed to sleep in one of the bunks. Overall, it was a great week.
It felt like seeing Cassidy was the jump Brook needed to start adjusting to life on the road, and she was even accepting the groupies who threw themselves at me. She didn’t think I had noticed when she got jealous those first few times. Was it wrong I found it hot when I saw her balling her fists at her sides, her body vibrating with jealousy, her mouth turned down in a pout, and her eyes intense? Damn, those eyes. They got me every fucking time. Knowing she was as possessive of me as I was of her gave me a thrill.
I kept giving her apologetic looks every now and then, and she shrugged after a while. I still saw her lips thin, and her eyes narrow sometimes, but it didn’t quite have the same flair as it did at first.
I’d like to think I did a good job of showing her she was all I cared about when it mattered. And I guess it was working.
One thing I hadn’t done, though, was tell her she was meeting my parents in a few days. I had moved to New York to go to school, and when the band made it, I stayed there. My parents still lived in my childhood home back in San Francisco. We would be stopping there. Brooklyn knew all about them, and they knew all about her. She had even been around when I’d spoken to them on the phone. Heck, she even yelled, “Hi, Mrs. Larter,” a couple of times when she was right next to me. But meeting the parents was on a completely different scale. We would have breakfast with them, and they were coming to see our show.
Honestly, I had been nervous about how Brook would react to meeting them, which was why I found lame excuses not to tell her. I knew my parents would love her. They already did. I was afraid this would be a little too much too fast for Brook, and I didn’t want her to run screaming from me. I knew I needed to tell her. I just wasn’t sure how I would bring it up.
“You never told me the story behind this tattoo,” I asked her as I trailed my finger along the inside her wrist where she had four playing cards slightly overlapping at the bottom as if an invisible hand was holding them out for someone to pick a card. I was actually genuinely curious and wondered why I never asked her before. I was also stalling on telling her about my folks.
I examined the tattoo as I waited for her to tell me all about it. It was a jack of diamonds, a queen of spades, a king of clubs, and an ace of hearts. It was the only tattoo on her body, and it seemed like a personal place. It wasn’t concealed, but it was a spot that could be easily hidden, yet still available for the owner to look at when needed. I knew several people with meaningful messages on their wrists, usually as reminders. Numerous tattoos marked my body, but none that meant anything to me. They were just designs I deemed cool.
“No story really,” she replied with a shrug.
“But why cards? Why these ones?” I asked.
“Honestly …” she started, her tone half laughing, half embarrassed. “I don’t really remember getting the tattoo. Cass and I went to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday. We had a blast, from what I don’t remember.” She chuckled at her own joke. “I was pretty drunk, and this seemed like a good idea at the time. Twenty-one. Gambling. Cards. Get it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s it?”
“Don’t laugh. It’s just proof that getting shit-faced isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Her own giggling drowned out the seriousness of her sentence. “Okay, it’s pretty funny.”
Now or never, I told myself. Okay, it wasn’t never, but I needed something to stop me from chickening out. “You’ve been pretty happy lately,” I started. It seemed fitting. Jesus. I was turning into a chick.
“I’ve been happy since the day I met you,” she replied. And damn if I cared if I was turning into a chick. Fuck, if I heard Brook say things like that, it was worth it. She cocked her head to the side before adding, “Spill it, Grennan.”
“What?” I asked innocently.
“I’m not going to break. I thought we already settled that a while ago?” I’d formed it as a question but said it more as a statement. “Ever since my little panic attack, you haven’t been your usual domineering self. Don’t think I haven’t noticed every time you ask something of me instead of just tell me. God, I never thought I’d admit this out loud,” she muttered more to herself than to me, “but I miss it.” Then her face scrunched up as her own admission had shocked her. It was fucking adorable. She threw up her hands after a moment in frustration and stomped away after saying something that sounded like, “Ugh.”
I had to stifle my laugh and tamper my grin before I took the whole two steps to catch her. She wanted my pushiness? Fine. She’d get it. “You’re meeting my parents, Brooklyn,” I said as I swung her around to face me.
“I’m what?”
“Two days from now at the Oakland concert. We’re having breakfast with them, we’ll go to rehearsal, and then they’ll come to the show, and then we’re off for the next city.”
“When were you planning to tell me this? I have to figure out what to wear. I could have done that while Cass was here. What am I going to say? How am I supposed to act? What if they don’t like me?” Not quite the reaction I feared. I sighed in relief.
“You’re cute when you ramble,” I told her.
She looked at me as if I’d ruined her favorite … something. Shoes? Sure … like I ruined her favorite shoes.
“I am NOT cute. I’m hot, or sexy, or hot and sexy. You’re not supposed to think I’m cute. My parents are. My grandparents, sure. Maybe even your parents. Not you.”
“Brooklyn.” I laughed. “You’re everything. You’re cute, you’re sexy, and you’re all the stuff in between. You should know that by now. And my parents already love you. You could wear a paper bag, and they’d be just as mesmerized by you as I am.”
“You can’t say stuff like that when I’m trying to be upset with you,” she responded.
“Then don’t be upset with me.” I pulled her to me and kissed her senseless, which led to some other interesting acts.
“You can show Cass your outfit options over the phone. Just act like yourself,” I told her after we lay in bed. “And don’t worry, Brooklyn, my parents are going to love you.”
And was I right? I was right. My parents forgot I even existed the minute I introduced Brooklyn. I was sure I could hear my mom’s mind planning our wedding, her grandchildren, hell, even her great-grandchildren. Not that I was complaining. I saw Brooklyn in my future and only Brooklyn. Well, maybe
a few mini-Brooklyns too but no other women for me.
They peppered her with questions. They told her how beautiful she was. They informed her she was the only girl I had introduced to them, and that meant they knew she was something special even before they met her. “And now that we have met you, you’re even better than we imagined,” my mom told her. Brooklyn blushed thirty shades of red then.
“See?” I told her after we left breakfast. “My parents loved you.”
She turned to me, completely serious, and told me, “You know what, Grennan? I don’t worry when you tell me things are going to happen. And you know why? Because you’ve made good on everything you say.”
“Oh? So you weren’t worried about meeting my parents?”
“Well, naturally, I was nervous. But worried? No.”
“Good. Very good.”
She hung out with my parents backstage while we performed that night. I saw them talking occasionally, but I wasn’t sure what they said. I also saw her throw her head back several times and laugh at something they must have told her. I knew they were telling her stories about me, most likely some embarrassing story about me singing or performing. It made me happy, though, to see her getting along with my parents. Even as I sang to a packed audience, I actually envisioned Brook and me much older, my parents by our side, watching our kids. I liked that vision.
“So you used to sing with your mom’s hairbrush as your microphone, huh?” Brook asked me after we had said goodbye to my parents. My suspicions of humiliating stories galore were spot-on.
“I’m going to have to have a chat with my parents. What else did they tell you?”
“Not much else. Just that you liked the Backstreet Boys, even dressed as one of them for Halloween one year. Your mom used to sing Madonna songs to you when you were a baby to get you to sleep. Your mom tried to have you play the piano, but apparently, you sucked. Maybe a few other minor things. Nothing to be ashamed of.” She smirked.
“That’s it. You’re never talking to my parents again. And I’ll show you ashamed.”