And a lot of those hours are spent doing things without her.
Performing. Soundcheck. Band meetings.
All necessary but extremely frustrating.
I just want to hang out with her. Take her to bed. Talk to her. Make love to her on a chair overlooking the city. Shower together. Continue getting to know each other.
And we do some of that but not all of it. Certainly not enough of it. And she never complains.
“I’m going with you to the airport,” I tell her on Sunday after breakfast.
“You are?” She looks confused.
“There’s a hotel shuttle so why shouldn’t I ride along?”
She smiles. “Well, I won’t complain about any extra minutes we get to spend together.”
“We have to talk about that,” I say, pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
“I might quit my job,” she blurts.
“Yeah?” I look up in surprise. “You’re gonna do that travel nursing thing?”
“I reached out to a recruiter, and she said she’d get in touch on Monday. That doesn’t mean I’m getting the job but I was an E.R. nurse for nine years, so I’ve got the qualifications and experience.”
“You know I don’t care where you work or how much you make, right?” I reach for her hand and she nods.
“I know. But I care. I want to pull my weight. I took time off when Harley needed me so I felt okay taking money from her then, letting her support me, but it’s different now. You and I have to start out as equals.”
I nod. “I understand that. I just want you to know that you don’t have to be miserable just so you can match my salary or whatever.”
“I don’t know what your salary is,” she stage whispers, eyes twinkling.
“To be fair, I don’t know what yours is either,” I reply, chuckling. “But my regular salary, as the band’s tour manager, is one fifty. Plus bonuses at the end of every tour.”
“My current salary is ninety grand. No bonuses.”
“We’re still in the same ballpark.”
“I was making a hundred and fifteen at the hospital, but I thought it would be a worthwhile trade-off for less stress. Turns out, I gravely underestimated the stress working in an office setting.”
“Don’t worry about money, okay?” I reach. “They’re paying me a fuck-ton to do this lead singer gig. I can afford to take care of both of us while you’re figuring out what you want to do.”
“I don’t have debt,” she says. “My only bills are my car insurance, gas, cell phone, stuff like that. I don’t pay anything to live at Harley and Tommy’s. Obviously, I have to eat but I’ve put away a nice nest egg. I just don’t want to blow through it because it’s supposed to be for a down payment on something.”
“You don’t need to touch your money,” I say firmly. “I mean it. Hell, quit your job and come be with me for a while.”
“Harley said the same thing,” she admits. “I could quit and then come on tour until I find a job.”
“That works for me. And you’ll have no bills here.”
“I have to think about health insurance. Once I quit, I won’t have it, so I’d have to buy COBRA or something.”
“Let me talk to Sasha, see if there’s a way for us to add you to the label’s plan. We’d have to pay but it wouldn’t be anywhere near what you’d pay for COBRA.”
“Is that possible?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I have to ask. Let me find out and then we’ll reassess.”
