First Chance (7 page)

Apparently, they like to have their things already set up so when the show is done, and the meet and greets are finished they can hop back on the bus take showers and pass out. Then on to the next stop, it’s also kind of like pre-gaming for their first show,
its part of their tradition he tells me. Before they go on stage every night, they sit down on the couch aligned against the wall and make up their set list. Unlike other artists they never pre-plan what songs they will be doing that night until right before the show. They always change it, never repeating the same songs. I'm actually impressed, it’s almost unheard of. I point out sound check. Why not choose those songs then? Liam said they always do the same warm up songs at sound check

Three on each side. Enough to fit one body. A ladder going up to the very top bed. Each equipped with a mini curtain you could slide closed.  Then the bathroom, he opened the door just enough for me to tell he and I would never fit unless we wanted our bodies to be contoured to one another. Liam walks me through a door straight to the back of the bus and tells me it is the main bedroom. It’s more or less used for storage. Storing every-ones clothes or extra food. There’s an overturned mattress against the wall, he says that if by chance if anyone had a visitor they could use it.

H
e shows me to a closet, that we all will share, and told me I could hang my clothes in there as well. Also a large dresser that he made room for me in so I could hide my unmentionables’.

It’s act
ually pretty nice. Better than I had hoped for. If this is what the bands bus looks like, I couldn't imagine what the roadie’s looks like. Liam leaves me to myself in the big back bedroom. I start unpacking, hanging my clothes, putting my bras and panties away in the dresser, then grabbing my zip lock bags and stuffing them in the drawer too. I doubt there is any room in the bathroom for my shampoo let alone my body. When all unpacked I walk back out into the living area, I see Liam sitting at the table with Steele and because he is the only one whom has introduced himself, besides the giant asshole who is currently talking to him, I decide I’ll ask him what bunk is mine.

Stepping ov
er to Liam who is in a whispered conversation with Steele. By the look of his brooding face I'm betting Gage is reprimanding him about our scuffle outside. Interrupting. “Excuse me, I just want to stay out of everyone's way so could you mind telling me what bed is mine?”

Liam
turns his head to mine, his lips locked into a smile. Stop staring at his gorgeous lips Natalie, get a hold on yourself. “Sure, you’re right below Steele. Steele why don’t you show Princess here where her bed is.” And here I presumed that Liam was on my side.

I'm rea
lly hoping the next two months I won’t have to sleep beneath this annoying man. Maybe I can befriend one of the other guys and they'll swap beds with me.

Steele stands up and just starts walking back to the bunk area. He points to the left, “I’m the top, and you’re the middle. Also, hat
e snoring, so if you snore keep it down or buy some breathe rite strips.” Not letting me retort he just walks away.

“
Asshole” I mutter.

Climbing up the ladder, I
slide into my bed and close the green curtain. I look to my right side and there is a small window also equipped with a green curtain.

I
slide the curtain open and take a look outside. It’s facing the sidewalk of the hotel where I can see a few roadies still loading their luggage. I also see Steele. He’s talking to one of the other band members I have yet to meet. 

He truly is breathtaking. Observing his profile
I can make out his features better in the daylight. He has his dark hair pulled back away from his face held together by a rubber band at the nape of his neck. A firm hard jaw with a days’ worth of growth in place. He’s wearing a dark blue short sleeve shirt that is showing off his black inked tattoos. His nose is straight. Unusual because from the look in his eyes earlier, I would swear this man was keen on violence. Just from his arguing personality I would expect that someone would have knocked him a good one and broken his nose in the past.

But nope there
it sits upon his handsomely rugged face. Naturally he feels eyes scrutinizing and we lock. Eyes knowing, the left corner of his lip pulls up. Damn it. This man’s ego it way to big. I bet he assumes I find him irresistibly attractive. That I want him. This I can play. No one has ever tempted me and I am comfortable it remaining that way. If a fortune five-hundred CEO cannot bring me to my knees. Then a rock-star has no chance to tempt me.

Chapter 8

Steele

Minx. She’s a damn minx. For Liam to feel that he has to sit me down and remind me that she wasn't here for my cruelty. Like I was the one who threw all of her clothing and undergarments all over the sidewalk. I was trying to be a gentleman. Knowing she and I got off to the wrong start, she and I need to reach some kind of middle ground. How do I expect my plan to work if we don’t at least somewhat get along? Maybe if she would give me a chance to redeem myself or let me in a little. I could see how guarded she was that night on stage, how she seems to always remain guarded.

As soon as Liam
shut the door to the back bedroom, so she could unpack I presume, he marched over to me and demanded my full attention.

“Ryan
, this girl, she’s not as strong as we thought she was. You’re an intense guy. For someone like her you seem overbearing. She was fighting tears out there, I had all I could do to not comfort her. Knowing it would have only made the situation worse if I did.” He whispers.

“Jesus. You act like I
ran over the girls fucking dog. It was an accident. Her bag looked heavy so I offered to help. I have no care what goes on between you and her. But when she’s wanting marriage and babies don’t come crawling to me for advice.” I need to get away from this conversation. Unwanted feelings of jealousy are running through me right now.

This girl is in my head and I
need to kick her out. Looking for an escape from this conversation, said Minx interrupts wanting to know where her bed is. Then Liam does exactly what I didn't want him to do. Offers me to show her to her bunk. Dick. Are all of my band mates against me all of a sudden? They are all aware of what my intentions are and now they are playing protective of her. Standing up I walk away knowing that she will follow.

I show her where my bed is first, then hers
, I offered her a few suggestions on what I don’t like. Crowded, is how she makes me feel, with her coconut smelling golden brown hair and the devastation that lurks behind her facade of a smile she puts on. It makes me want to ask questions. To prevent myself from doing so, I leave the bus. A cigarette is just what I need.

I pull my pack
of smokes out and light one up. Exhaling a puff of smoke, I watch the roadies walking in and out of the bus loading their things in. One walking around with a checklist in hand making sure everything is accounted for. Gage stands next to me.

“
So that babe from the other night, I see she made it after all.” He says eyeing my reaction. Testing me. Almost.

“Not going to discuss her or what happened so l
eave it alone.” I say shutting it down right now.

“Alright man, I had to ask. Anyways, I
glimpsed our tour schedule but I didn't beat it into my brain. After the Fleet Center what’s our next stop? My ma wants to fly in for our second show. She wanted to be at our first but you know how she hates Boston.” Glad he let me off the hook. Generally I'm not a man of many words and I never explain myself to anyone.

I can talk music all day, any d
ay. If it wasn't for the guys I would be a classic shut in emotionally, but they know when I have had enough I close the conversation down. Liam is the only one who always tries to break that barrier. “Our next stop is in Upstate, New York. I’ll find out the exact city tonight, I would tell her to get a ticket to Albany, wherever we are would be within a few hours’ drive.” I answered Gage.

Six hours later, both buses are packed and our concert starts in
about four hours. The guys and I decide to get both of the buses over to the Fleet Center, when we arrive we will order dinner to be delivered, pre-game then sound check. It sounds like a pretty easy to-do list. In actuality, it’s one of the most tiring jobs. Once we exit that stage all we want is a hot shower, and a comfortable bed. Sometimes, also an easy woman.

Instead we have to hold out on our wants for a couple of hours and do meet and greets. As popular as we are that isn't something we have to keep doing. A lot of artists believe it’s too risky becaus
e of how big their fan base is. Doing a meet and greet when your that popular can open the possibility to a lot of bad situations, others just won’t do it because they feel they're above it. Like they don’t owe their fans shit.

So, even being exhausted
we all still carry our asses out there every fucking night. We do it for free. If they bought a ticket, pit, lawn or orchestra seating they are all welcome to wait in line and meet us. It’s something we won’t ever stop doing. I want to meet every god damn fan. We stay there, sitting in a little crowded booth on uncomfortable metal chairs until we meet every last fucking fan.

Way we see it, these fans. The
se everyday hard working people. They buy our albums. Our merchandise and our tickets. Keeping us on the billboards all because they want to hear more from us. We owe them. If all I am able to do is sit until my ass goes numb and sign autographs until my hand is cramping, then we will all keep doing just that.

I owe my life to my fans, unbe
knownst to them. It’s undeniable that I could have ended up dead the way that my life was headed. My parents lead prime examples of a life you didn't want to have. I wasn't planned and they held that against me until the end of their days. Mom drank and smoked crack while pregnant, Dad only joining her in those habits. Even when I entered the world, I still wasn't worth enough to them to quit their addictions.

I was in foster home until I
turned eight. My parents somehow convinced the courts that they had mended their ways. They were reborn again Christians, so they said. At eight, I just wanted somebody to care about me. Truly care what happened to me. To love me, I couldn't have been happier when my current foster mom had told me I would be going home. To have my own family back I was in childhood bliss. Nothing could go wrong in my eyes.

When I
met them for the first time they clutched me in their arms and I felt as if they were my home. This is what I had been waiting my entire life for. I grabbed my plastic bag full of clothes and hopped in their car. We drove up to the perfect house, better then what I had dreamed of. A one story ranch style house, it was a gray blue with black shutters and a metal fence enclosing the spacious yard. I remember thinking about how I could run around all day and play. I yanked that car door open and ran right into the house. As if I had lived there my whole life.

I should have known something
wasn't right with these people. My parents at that moment. My father yoked me up by the neck and asked where my manners were. He made me go back outside and knock on the door. To ask to be allowed entrance. Isn’t this my house now too? As an adult looking back, I realize I had no chance with those people.

Kids. T
hey dream, they hope, but never really know the true hurt in the world. At eight I was blinded by love. By nine I had felt hatred. Toward my parents, toward anyone who I came into contact with. I was pissed off at the world. My parent’s hadn’t changed a bit. Now I was stuck here.

They moved higher. M
ore hardcore. Heroin, Meth. They just couldn't afford it. They had a grand scheme though, brilliant idea. Play the fucking courts. Get their kid back and then they could get me to steal, pick pockets of strangers, and steal from stores. Whatever it took to get money for their habits.

Wherever and who
ever. It had never mattered to them if those people needed what they had. It didn’t matter that there was a chance I would get caught or if in turn the person I was robbing was to get violent. And if I ever turned up back at home empty handed, well then, they would make sure that I wouldn’t walk for days.

Eventually, I
graduated school and then got away from that house and them. Staying at friends’ houses a few nights here and there, and playing gigs in between. We were lucky that we had only been playing for about a year when discovered. Since then my parents have both passed. I'm sure rotting in eternal hell. Overdosing on drugs, who would have thought?

They tried contacting me a few times. Once they even had the balls to leave a voice-mail threatening to let my life story out in exchange for
money to keep them quiet. I ignored the meaningless ultimatum. They could make empty threats all they wanted I knew they would never reveal any information out of fear of implicating themselves. That’s how selfish they were, only ever looking out for themselves... I don’t allow people to peer into my book of life. I would never willingly volunteer information about myself only because I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I may have been born into shitty circumstances and I could have succumbed to the life I had. But I changed my situation.

Liam
knows all of it. And the rest of the guys have some knowledge, that's enough to satisfy them and enough for me to still remain unaffected by stares full of pity. The only way I let someone in, is through my songs. Each song I have written is a piece of me, in every line. It’s the only place in my life where I allow vulnerability. I am now I'm not the only one out there with hardships, battles to wage, wars to fight. But fuck if it doesn't feel like I am alone in this.

Parked at the back entrance of The Fleet Center, Liam goes around checking with everyone what they want for dinner. Usually we don’t have time to order out because we don’t end up arriving to the venue until sound check so when we’re able to we take advantage of it. One of us not having to cook for a night. Fuck yes. Not asking me what I want, he takes his cell out and dials the number for a local Italian eatery. Liam knows I am not a person for change, I always get the same thing.

Showering, a must do before the show. I throw some money at Liam and head to the back bedroom to grab some clothes, most likely what I’ll be wearin
g on stage tonight as well. As I shove the door open, someone else is yanking it back. I stumble, taken aback not expecting someone to be in there. I forgot. This Brunette beauty is with us for the entire summer.

I’m frozen, not able to speak.
She’s staring at me with weary eyes, mouth pinched as if she’s cautious on what to say or do. Is she trying to make me feel guilty? Not sure if I should even speak to her. I don’t want to engage in an argument shortly before we have to be on stage. I never walk away from a discussion involving any kind of anger, it’s just not who I am.

Sliding
my body sideways to let her walk out, showing her I won’t bow into her act. She can act like an innocent shy college girl, but I know better.

She has a razor sharp mouth, and she knows how to use it. Amazed that she can have a vengefully determined look one moment, the next a haunted sad look with a flicker of loneliness. This woman is if nothing but many barriers put into place, layers and layers of e
motions I have only ever seen reflected back in the mirror.

Like a temptress it’s doing nothing but calling me out, begging for me to strip every single coat she has wielded around herself. Nothing good can come of this.

I enter the room, after having been standing there stuck in place, thinking of her. After changing, I make my way out to the dining area and see everyone sitting around the table already eating.

“Nice guys. S
tarting without me. Where’s the chicken Parmigiana?” I ask mocking an Italian accent the best I could. They all start laughing. Except for her of course. Gage slides over making room for me and hands my food over. We eat in stony silence. I could break it but I believe everyone is in this awkward mood because of the fiasco hours earlier. No one sure what to say. My guys are taking turns sending questionable stares in my direction. Possibly hoping Ill break the ice. Fuck them. They want to play protective daddy then they can break the tension.

My guys have mistaken
her for having a weak character. So naturally they must protect her from the likes of me. As if I have some nefarious scheme to scar her. If I was honest with myself, the only reason I wanted her was to prove myself. To prove the band is deserving to be where we are. Show her that our music means something, that we have worked our way to be here.

Nights before
, when she was reclining in that far away seat, I knew she wanted to be long gone. When we performed on stage she confirmed it for me. She was unimpressed, unfeeling of all of the emotion that we’ve poured out of our souls into our songs. The more she ignored and stayed unmoved the more I wanted, no the more I needed to break her.

I should have known that an impromptu invitation would have gone unwelcome, and automatically put her on defense mode
. When she joined me at the microphone, and her lips opened with that first note, I knew I couldn't let her go. I haven't had a voice affect me as much as hers in years. A sweet throaty rasp with a hint of pain and some other emotion that she quickly hid before I could hear or even feel it. How did she become such a desperate need that I have to unfold so fast?

Throwin
g my empty food container away I ask the guys if they want to go over our pregame before sound check. Our pre gaming consists of each one of use choosing three songs each that we want to play tonight. We write the list down and then that's our set rotation for the night. I tell the Minx she can join us backstage and watch the show from the side if she wants. We’re going to have her learn the roadies set up starting with our next show.