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“Are you being held hostage or some shit?”
“Something like that.” I reply and toss my phone to the side. I crawl back out of my bunk.
This is ridiculous. I should be allowed to have people over. I should be allowed to have friends. You’d think they would encourage it. Not just boyfriends but real, genuine friends to talk to. To distract me from whatever made me not want to eat.
I walk out to the kitchen area where Sue sits, looking at her phone.
“Good morning.” I say, trying to get the nerve to ask her if I could go on Wes’s bus or if he could come on mine.
“Morning.” She says, looking up at me. “What are we having for breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Didn’t ask if you were.” She says. “Bagel and cream cheese or butter and toast?”
I’m so sick of toast and bagels. It’s been the only option for the whole tour. I debate telling her this, but I fear what the alternative would be. Probably something much worse.
“Butter and toast.” I say. I hated cream cheese anyway. “Uh. I was wondering.” I ask softly.
“What?”
“Can I go hang out on Wesley’s bus at the next stop?”
“Just friends, huh?” She says, getting up and pulling out a loaf of bread, dropping two pieces into the toaster.
“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “Just friends.”
“You can’t just be friends with a guy, Abbey.” She says as she pours some coffee into a cup, adds some milk and sugar into it, and hands it to me. “You know what everyone is going to say.”
I hate coffee. I’ve told her this plenty of times, but Sue doesn’t seem to care about what I like or dislike. It’s all about forcing the calories into me at this point. However, I must admit the caffeine was good at taking the lingering edge of the Xanax off.
“So?” I ask.
Of course, I knew what everyone would say. They are already saying it, and we only hung out for a few minutes last night. So yes, they would assume we were a couple. They would say we were fucking. He would be another one of my lovers in the tabloids. I couldn’t even talk to a guy without the rumor mill saying we were sleeping together. I had a long list of lovers that I hadn’t even kissed. The rumor mill had linked me to a number of guys. The list was probably in the triple digits. So, I am well aware of what I am getting myself into. I just don’t care right now. I want a friend.
It is rough being a female in the rock and roll scene. I am constantly being linked to each member of the other acts when on tour since they were almost always guys. I did do one—almostall-female tour once. That was a nice break. Far fewer rumors started then. Well, until I was pictured with one of the other female lead singers’ arms wrapped around my waist, someone started a rumor that I was sleeping with her. The label loved that, though. A lesbian affair was good press, in their opinion.
“So.” Sue continues. “The label would’ve preferred Skylar fromKey Failures, but I guess I can work with Wesley.” The toast pops out, and she puts a fuck ton of butter on it before handing it to me. “But I can’t let you go on his bus. You know the rules. The whole reason I’m on this tour with you is to keep an eye on you.”
“Can he come on here then?” I ask. She studies me, and I force myself to take a bite of toast. I chew it for what feels like forever but swallow it, then take another bite.
“Finish your toast and coffee, then I’ll think about it.”
I want to argue that I’m a grown adult and should be able to do what I please, when I please, but I know that won’t help my case any. There are rules I have to follow so I can eventually get back control of my life, and until then, she has all the control. Well, the record label has all the control, but they put her in charge of me for now. So, I just take another bite of my toast and follow it with a sip of coffee.
I painstakingly finish both the toast and coffee, and even put the cup and plate in the sink. She looks up at me.
“Good job.” She says, and it may just be the anger in me, but she sounds almost condescending. “Now, just keep it down until the next stop, and I will allow him to come on the bus.”
“And you’ll be cool while he is on it?”
“He has to sign an NDA, but if you promise to eat lunch without a fuss, sure, I will be cool.”
I cross my arms and stare at her. Wondering what her definition of cool would be. “Fine.”
I walk back to my bunk and grab my phone.
“Stay where I can see you.” She calls down to me. It’s a pointless request. She would know if I threw up in my bunk. It’s not like I could hide that now, could I? I roll my eyes.
