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I hate being treated like a child.
“Bathroom.” I say, walking up to Sue, who is on the phone. I hold my hand out for the key. I really need to pee, and the fact I have to beg to go is embarrassing.
She pulls the key out of her pocket and looks at her watch. She holds up her hand, letting me know she is giving me five minutes to use the bathroom.
“This is ridiculous.” I say as I walk away.
I should be able to use the bathroom as long as I needed. Of course, if left to my own devices, I would surely try to throw up whatever food or bile was in my stomach, so it wasn’t without reason that she timed me.
I’m surprised she gave me five minutes, to be honest. Normally, I get three when she can’t watch or listen.
I still rush into the bathroom. I don’t want to give her a reason to barge in and check on me. That would be more embarrassing than having to ask. But I enjoy the fact sheisn’t standing there looking at me. This moment of privacy is welcome.
I flush and walk out to the sink area, washing my hands and splashing my face a little. I feel a bit groggy from the mixture of alcohol and the Xanax. I lock the door and walked back to Sue, handing her back the key.
“Wesley Whitmore.” She says into the phone, but while staring at me questioningly.
“Nothing happened.” I say. “We just hung out together. We are friends.”
“Just friends.” She says into the phone. “Nothing happened. No need to make a comment now.”
I walk back to my bunk and crawl back into it. While Sue deals with the fallout from my hanging out with Wes last night, I get to enjoy a few minutes of alone time.
I pull out my phone and see I have a few messages. Mostly from random so-called friends who all check in with me to say they knew me. Some asking for backstage passes to shows and one from Wes.
“It seems we did make some headlines. Apparently, we hooked up onKey Failures’bus last night. I think I’d remember that, but what do I know.” His text reads.
“Not worth remembering. I’m honestly not that good in bed anyway.” I reply.
“You’re a hot girl. You couldn’t be bad in bed if you tried.”
I don’t really know how to reply to that. My sex life was sad and pathetic. I have never came from a guy before. Never had anyone go down on me or even bother trying to get me off. It was all just a bunch of quickies mostly.
I assumed I was doing something wrong or that I was defeated in some way because whenever my girlfriends talked about sex, they talked about it feeling so good, and for me, it was always just bland. I assumed that’s why most guys cheated onme. I was bad in bed, I understood that. Still sucked, but what could I do?
“What are you up to?” I ask instead of letting him in on my thoughts.
“Nothing. I hate boring bus rides.”
“Me too.”
“Next stop, you should get off your bus and come hang out on mine.”
“I highly doubt Sue would allow that.”
“Your manager?”
“Yes.”
“She is your manager, not the boss of you.” He says.
I laugh out loud at that statement. If only he knew how wrong he was. He would probably run for the hills if he knew half the situation.
“She is kind of both.”
“I can come hang out on your bus.”
“I’m sure she would prefer that, but still highly unlikely.”
