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Nine
On the Lyft ride back, I stayed silent as I processed everything that Yasmine said. The possibilities would be endless. You would never look back on that trash life you were living before.
Am I living a trash life?For a moment, I paused, turning the thought over and over in my head. Finally, I shook my head, dispelling the notion. My insides burned up with rage.
Who does she think she is, anyway?I thought. She’s known me for a minute. She can’t possibly know what my life will be like.
But does she see something I don’t see?
I didn’t have time to pursue that thought because we pulled up to the bus. The rest of the band and Andrew were sitting around a makeshift fire pit, the fire spreading its fingers to the sky. Andrew looked up and lifted a hand in greeting as we approached.
“Hey yourself.” I sat down next to him and swiped his hotdog on a stick. “Thanks for the snack, nerd.”
“My pleasure,” he grumbled, watching me eat his perfectly cooked hotdog. “How was the gym?”
“Interesting.” I swallowed and took another bite. “Did you know that Yasmine used to be a personal trainer?”
“No, but I could’ve guessed.” He watched as Yasmine and Philip shadow-boxed. “The woman is a beast.”
Frowning at the admiration in his tone, I said, “She’s not that much of a beast.”
Andrew’s eyes caught mine, his interest making my breath catch. “Is that so?”
Before I could respond, Yasmine cleared her throat theatrically. We all looked up.
“Thank you to Andrew and Alicia for being here,” she said. “And especially Alicia, our new badass photog. No offense, Andrew.” She and Andrew smiled at each other. Applause, whoops, and cheers went up all around. I blushed.
“Now, onto more important business.” Yasmine put on an official look. “Our first stop in our tour is tomorrow afternoon, in a café. I know that it’s not ideal,” she said above the grumbles, “but it’s what we’re working with. We are a band full of colorful people.” She smirked at her own pun. “There aren’t many rock bands of color out here, so we have to start off in some odd-ass places. But that’s okay, because we’re the Leroys, and we can make it work.” More cheers were lifted into the night sky.
“Be ready to practice at 9 a.m,” she said. “We leave at noon.”
* * *
Later that night, as I was staring up at the bottom of the top bunk, a multitude of thoughts whirled through my head. This is the dream. I’m the photographer of my favorite band. I get to really be here, brushing elbows with Yasmine fuckin’ Torres. What a story to tell my future kids.
But then I started to think about my future with Michael. What if he tells me to come home? What if I’m not back before the wedding? What if this is all just some crazy adventure that won’t lead to anything?
What if I’m not good enough?
“Worrying again, I see.”
I narrowed my eyes at Andrew as he squeezed into the already-tight space. “What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.
“Saving you from your own mind.”
“I’m fine.” My watch beeped, and Andrew eyed it shrewdly. “Okay, so what if I was doing a little bit of worrying? That’s normal.”
“Sure, if it was only a little bit.” Andrew shifted so that we were almost nose to nose. “And if it led to anything productive. Which it won’t.”
“How do you know that?” I sniffed, moving as far away from him as I could get. “And don’t you have your own bed?”
“I’m gonna tell you what I think you were worrying about,” he murmured. “Let me know if I’m close.” He adopted a look that I assumed was supposed to be similar to mine. His eyes widened slightly, and his breath quickened. He bit his top lip. “I can’t believe I’m on tour with the Leroys. This has to be a dream. This cannot possibly be happening. But what if it isn’t? What if I’m dreaming? Or what if Michael calls me right now and tells me that I need to come home? And what would Mother think about this…lifestyle?”
“You don’t know me,” I grumbled though I blushed. Andrew gave me another shrewd look. “Okay, so what?
“I’m not trying to embarrass you, Ace,” he said. “I’m trying to get you to see that these worries are not serving you. And you don’t have to serve them.” He finally, thankfully, slid off the bed. I stopped myself from whining aloud at the loss of body heat but didn’t allow myself to think about what that meant. “Think about that next time you think about Michael’s feelings in all of this.”
* * *
