Page 32 of Rhythm


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As we were finishing sound check on the afternoon before the first show, I turned to see Brit standing in the wings, a takeout cup in her hand. It was the first time she’d made use of her backstage pass. I motioned for her to come onstage, since we were in an empty venue. She walked on slowly, stepping over cables, her eyes wide.

The guys greeted her. Brit handed the takeout cup to Denver, who looked surprised. “It’s hot water with honey and lemon,” she told him. “For your voice. I bought more. I’ll have it sent to your room. Make sure you drink it regularly.”

“Holy shit,” Denver said. “Thanks.”

I narrowed my eyes at Brit as she came toward me where I sat behind my kit. “You know he has a girlfriend, right?” I said when she was close. “Her name is Callie. He’s so crazy about her he’s driving us all nuts.”

Brit put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as I stood up and stretched. “I’m not seducing Denver. I’m just trying to be useful. And I hate to break it to you, but the fact that he’s a good boyfriend just makes him hotter.”

“Yuck.” I linked my hands over my head and arched my back. My regular yoga sessions were definitely not happening on this tour. I needed to get back on track. “How does it feel to be onstage?”

I could have sworn Brit glanced down to where my shirt rode up, but she quickly looked around at the empty venue. “I’ll admit this is pretty neat.”

“Allright.” I gave a fist pump. “‘Pretty neat’ is totally what we’re going for.”

She rolled her eyes. “Axel.”

“In fact, I think we’ll call this the Pretty Neat Tour. It’s killer marketing.”

“It’s amazing, okay?” She shook her head, smiling. “You need me to tell you you’re a rock star? You’re a rock star. There, is that better?”

“Getting there.” I smiled back at her. “Come to the show tonight and you’ll change your assessment toextremelyneat.”

“Maybe. It’s better than sitting around my hotel room alone. Though I did just hang out with Sienna Maplethorpe for a while. She’s not bad.”

“You talked to her?” I straightened in alarm. If Stone heard her say that, he’d blow his stack. He had a big problem with the tour’s pet journalist. So did all of us.

“Relax, I didn’t tell her anything. We just talked about our favorite music and I asked her a lot of questions. She’s really smart.”

“She’d also love to know what I’ve been up to for the last five years, and I have no intention of letting her write about it.” My addiction and trip through rehab were never made public. It’s easy to dodge press when you’re the drummer and no one cares who you are. Sienna had already written about “rumors” that I’d been to rehab, but she had no proof.

I wasn’t ashamed of where I’d been, but it was no one’s business, and I saw no reason to relive it all just so the public would have something to read.

Brit nodded. “I understand. I do. She won’t get anything from me.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Doesn’t she wonder why you’re on the tour?”

Brit’s cheeks flushed. “See, that’s the thing. Sienna assumed I’m your girlfriend. And I don’t care if she thinks that, except we have separate hotel rooms, which she could figure out pretty easily. And if she believes we’re together, it would look a bit strange if we never act like it for ten weeks. Which makes it awkward.”

“Uh huh.” I hadn’t thought about this, exactly. To an outsider, it was weird to bring your female friend along for an intense ten-week tour. Since I wasn’t going to admit to Sienna that Brit was my sobriety babysitter, it wouldn’t make sense that we weren’t screwing. “So, what? We make out in public? I’m down with that. You move into my hotel room? Okay, but what if we see each other naked? And who gets to control Netflix?”

“Jesus, you’re in a good mood.” Brit’s cheeks were going red, which was unusual. She didn’t often blush around me. “I came up with a better solution. I told her we’re friends and neighbors, and I came on tour as the band’s assistant.” She motioned toward the cup that Denver was sipping. “I can run errands for you guys, as long as you aren’t assholes about it. It’s an explanation for Sienna, and I’ll feel more useful.”

“You’re useful,” I said. “I told you, you just need to play video games with me and pretend you’re interested in my stupid conversations. It’s working so far.”

“Is it?” She turned those brown eyes to me, so sharp and perceptive. Fuck, she could see things about me. Really see them.

I was doing fine. But we weren’t far into the tour, and playing live music was a high. It was fun and intense and terrifying, and at the same time, it could crack you open and scoop your guts out, right there in front of the audience. Touring was a vacation from real life, an opportunity to journey into whatever wildness was calling to you. It could bring you up into the light or it could suck you down into the dark. Sometimes, it did both in one show.

I’d had a quiet, boring life for years now, by choice. But now, the music called out the other side of me. The side that hated rules. The side that pushed limits. The side that liked to get into trouble.

The side that had almost killed me.

I could hear it calling to me, like a devil on my shoulder, when the first notes of “Man on Fire” played. When I did the solo in the middle of “Kickback.” I’d started writing a song of my own, which wasn’t ready to bring to the band yet, but would be soon. It was going to be called “Exile,” and I could already hear Denver’s voice singing the lyrics, which were all about leaving the shell of yourself behind.

This was heady and dangerous. I needed Brit to get me through it. Just the sight of her was enough to calm me down, enough to get a grip on myself.

“It’s a good idea,” I said to her, “if you can run a few errands for us. We’re pretty isolated on the road.” Being in a new city every other day, being shuttled between the bus and the hotel and the venue, didn’t leave much time or mental energy for everyday stuff. The hours were so crazy that half the time, you needed an aspirin at three a.m. or an antihistamine at six in the morning. When you ran out of toothpaste or the hotel’s laundry lost your sweatshirt, you sometimes had all of twenty minutes before you had to get on the bus again. It would be helpful to have an extra pair of hands. “We can pool some petty cash for you.”

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