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“Does that mean you’re coming out with us?” I asked, glad to have some reprieve from Royal’s focus until I figured out what this new dynamic between us was. Or what his problem was at all.
“I was going to call it a night, but if you two are set on it…”
“It’s our hometown. We have to go out,” Taylor added as he walked in, pulling on a shirt. He must have gone to use the shower in one of the other dressing rooms.
Larger venues usually have a large dressing room and a few smaller ones. We tend to all use the large one since we like to spend time together before we go on stage, but that isn’t the case for all artists, and it’s pretty easy to head to the other showers as the opening acts are usually through by the time we finish up.
“See, you have to come with us, especially since Lis isn’t here.” I loved that my brother had found someone that made him happy, but I missed him. I’d spent the last decade getting much more of his time, to get to a place where I had to share him was strange. It made me want to go back to Lucy just for the company, but I swore to myself I wouldn’t do it again. Not after the last time.
“Fine, but I’m not staying out too late. I need my fucking beauty sleep.”
Taylor rolled his eyes and playfully shoved Kingsley. “Your boyfriend gonna get jealous or something?”
“Nah, he trusts me. I’ll play wingman for you fools.”
Taylor scoffed, rolling up the hem of his sleeves to show off his massive, tattooed biceps. He liked to do Crossfit in his down time, like we didn’t work eighteen-hour days. I don’t know where he found the energy. “Then why’d you stop going out so much?”
“I’m fucking old. I don’t know how anyone does this into their fifties or sixties. I’m in my thirties, and I’m fucking tired.”
“Your body quits after thirty,” I said, digging through the duffle I’d brought with me and finding a clean pair of briefs, which meant I’d remembered to ask one of our assistants to do my laundry this week. Score. Better than being forced to go commando for a week because I didn’t want to admit I forgot.
It wasn’t easy to tell people you didn’t want to wake up most days, especially when they saw my entire life as privileged. I found it hard to complain about anything, even my depression. So I just kept it to my fucking self.
“Where’s Royal?” Taylor asked, leaning closer to the mirror adding something to his hair.
I thought about adding some eyeliner, maybe even brushing my hair, but it felt like too much work. Breathing felt like too much work today. Good days and bad days, I reminded myself.
“Aspen?” Taylor asked again. Both he and my brother were staring at me.
I closed one eye, trying to remember what he’d asked.
“Royal?” King prompted.
“Ah, right—ADHD brain. He’s in the shower.”
Taylor and King stared, but I ignored it. I knew they were wondering why both of them beat him. I wasn’t going to explain it to any of them. Not with Royal about to get out of the shower. There wasn’t much of a point in saying anything to my brother anyway. He was already on edge with Royal, thinking he was homophobic. Things between them bad been tense for months, and I didn’t want to add to it.
I turned around to avoid questions, ducking behind the makeshift half-wall to pull my clothes on.
I came out to find they were both still looking at me. So I turned to the mirror and picked up the eyeliner left there by our makeup artist to distract myself. I added some under my eyes, then went all out and did a little cat eye thing to the corners, wondering if that would set off Royal.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I hoped it would.
I ran my fingers through my half-dry hair, trying to tame the loose curls, but there wasn’t a point. My hair didn’t like to listen to anyone but a professional and then it only behaved for the first twenty ish minutes of our set. After that it was a mess from all the sweating and headbanging I did.
“You can’t hide from us forever,” Kingsley said when I ran out of shit to do.
“I wasn’t aware I was hiding from you,” I said to their eyes on me in the mirror.
“Why is Royal still in the shower?”
“No clue. Maybe he’s in there working off some tension. He’s been on edge all day.” I neglected to mention this might have anything to do with me.
“Like he’d do that with his hand when he could have lips around his dick in two seconds.”
My shoulders stiffened, suddenly hating the idea of anyone else touching him. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d felt this way for like two decades; I didn’t need to get stupid about it now.
“I need a line. Who has one?” I asked, done with this conversation and my own brain. “Kingsley?”
