“I’m just saying for someone who claims Whiskey Wild is their baby, you sure are pawning it off to others to burp and swaddle.”
“Okay I’m impulsive, next. And just so we’re clear. I left my baby with my partner, Darla. I didn’t just lock it in a room with Cheez-Its and juice boxes.”
His eyebrows rose in a slow arch. “Umm, same difference.”
“Bullshit, Bullshit, Bull-fucking-shit.”
“I wouldn’t let Darla watch the time, let alone the future of Whiskey Wild.”
“Are you finished? Are you done?”
“I’m just saying Darla isn’t someone I’d call responsible. I let her borrow my truck and she drove it into a lake.”
“Okay that’s fair. But let’s not act like I’m the textbook example of responsibility. I’m really just out here with my dick out trying to figure my next move. I’m knocking on thirty and I haven’t got a fucking clue. Not about our next album, where I’m going to live, if I’m ever going to see my dog again.”
“You have a dog?”
“Yeah, Yeti Spaghetti II. But Chap calls him Zeus.”
“Okay two things. One, if you want your dog back, we’ll get your dog back. And two, you need to reach out to the label and make things right. Whatever that means in the music industry. And then I fear you and Darla need to have a serious conversation about your management and whether you can separate business and personal.”
Edison made it all sound so simple. And maybe it was. If I’m being honest, I’d been consumed with how Chap’s actions affected me and hadn’t considered much else beyond that. It was time to put my big girl jeans on and solve this shit. Chap was out, Darla and I could resume the tour, and after, we’d start writing our next album. And I’d sue Chap for full custody of our dog.
“That’s one way to skin a squirrel,” I said.
“Problems and conflict make me anxious, so I like to solve them as quickly as possible.”
Leaning closer, I caressed his cheek. “I appreciate you listening.”
“Of course.” Edison kissed the top of my head.
We both retreated into our thoughts. Was he thinking the same thing I was? That our time together now had a clear endpoint. I’d go on tour and then nights in the tin tub would be a fond memory. I couldn’t ask him to wait for me. Because I didn’t know when I’d be coming back or if I even wanted to. Hume was my hometown, but it was no longer my home.
But LA didn’t feel like home either. I was just going through the motions in LA. Hikes on trails that paled in comparison to Hume. Fighting to get a spot in a reformer class at Helix Fitness. Eighteen dollars for a smoothie. Going to a club just to sit in VIP and not dance because VIP was for the rich cool kids and the dance floor was for losers who couldn’t get into VIP.
All my life, I wanted to be known for my music. But being famous and followed by paparazzi wasn’t ever part of that dream. I never wanted to lose my privacy and ability to navigate freely in the world. Everywhere I went, I was recognized and the reality that my life was no longer mine and mine alone was sinking in. Fans had expectations of the group and me. Expectations about who I should date. How I should dress. About the length of my bangs. Over a year ago, after a fight with Chap in which he picked apart my appearance, I got a little scissor happy and cut my own bangs. It looked hideous, but I chose to rock them until they grew out, my form of a silent rebellion.
The fans roasted me. There were think pieces about my bangs. Videos of people just laughing at a picture of me and my fucked up bangs in the background. My hairstylist received death threats over my chopped bangs. That moment mademe hyper aware that the parasocial relationships fans were creating were unhealthy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved our fans, but sometimes they’d cross the line, and it was hurtful and occasionally scary.
Edison cleared his throat. “Hey, I was thinking, why don’t you just stay with me until you get ready to leave?”
“With you?” I thought he’d be looking to put some distance between us, not pull me closer.
“Yeah, it would give us time to catch up.”
“I feel like we’ve already caught up and now we’re working on new material,” I teased.
He splashed the warm water over his face. “No pressure, it was just a thought.”
I tilted his chin, so he was looking at me. “I like the way you think. An extended sleepover sounds fun.”
I had three weeks to get my shit together. After that the already frustrated label would be pissed. Hiding out in Hume forever was not a viable option. People depended on the Whiskey Wild machine to keep churning. The band, the stage crew, security, craft services, if we didn’t perform, no one made money. I was tempted to text Darla and ask her to fly out. Edison’s advice was appreciated, but I really needed to talk things through with my bandmate. My choices affected her more than anyone else and her advice was always delivered plain with no sugar coating on top.
“Whiskey Wild has a show in three weeks.” I wanted to make sure Edison knew how much time he had. How much time was left before the carriage turned back into a pumpkin. Three weeks didn’t allow for making plans or figuring things out. I didn’t know what I was doing and now I’d dragged him into it.
My head was resting on his shoulder and I could sense him nodding thoughtfully. “Edison?”
“Yep.”
