Page 2 of The Only Thing That's Real
“Exactly. Tonight, of all nights, Knox, you have to push through. ‘Settle Down’is non-negotiable. If you want to skip the other two songs, so be it. Just get your ass out there for that one.”
He’s right. They all are.
Miraculously, the clarity of doing what’s right for the band, my best friends... my family... brings back the numbness. The autopilot I’ve been functioning on kicks into gear and with nothing more than a nod of my head I walk at a steady clip along the same path that got me here, back to the side of the stage where our bass player, Jay, is waiting patiently.
“You okay, brother?”
He doesn’t know what a loaded question that is, but I latch onto his calm demeanor. He’s the thoughtful one ofthe group. I can’t bring myself to lash out at him, but I’m also not answering his question. I mean, where do I even begin?
“Let’s get this over with.”
Somehow, I made it through all three songs. I threw up when I got off the stage, then made a beeline to the bus.
When we worked out the logistics of this tour, we knew it would be our last chance to be together like this. We were excited. Not thinking clearly when we decided to share a bus like we did before everyone started procreating. Granted, we have a caravan of buses, that include one for each family, but nights when we hit the road right after a show the five of us ride together. We still take the jet over long distances and have our own hotel suites once we get to our destination, but we’re usually still amped when we climb on the bus after our set. It takes a good couple of hours to float back down to earth from the adrenaline rush of performing for thousands of people.
Tonight, I regret that decision.
Forgoing the meet and greet with fans, I’ve commandeered the room at the back of the bus, grateful for the peace and quiet that’s rare when touring with three families and hundreds of crew members. Of course, it’s short-lived. Much sooner than I had hoped, the door to our hotel on wheels slams open, causing the knots in my stomach to tighten as I wait to see who came to bitch me out.
“McKinnon, you back there?”
Somewhat relieved it’s Trevor and not one of the otherguys, I open the door from my place on the edge of the bed in answer.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Trevor opens his mouth to speak, only to close it when the approaching steps of the rest of the band and their families halts him.
“Let’s just get to the plane so I can take a nap.”
“Sorry, bud, but you won’t be locking yourself away tonight. TheVanityFairjournalist is joining us on the plane.”
“I can’t. Not tonight,” I say, quietly pleading with him.
“Nothing I can do about it. Ryan will be with us until tour’s over.”
That wouldn’t be until mid-August. Shit. It’s going to be a long couple of months. “Whatever. The rest of the band can deal with it. Please. Just let me sleep.”
I made a point of being the first on the plane to not only avoid the invasive reporter who was thankfully on one of the other buses, but also to claim the bedroom. I locked the door and myself away from everyone. Unfortunately, my attempt at sleep was futile. My mind shutting that idea down and never relenting.
Staying in my imposed prison the entire flight, I waited until it sounded like everyone was off the plane before daring to show my face. And wouldn’t you know it, when I crawl out of my cave, Trevor is sitting in one of the cream leather chairs facing the door to the bedroom, making sure he’s thefirst thing I see.
“Let’s talk.” He isn’t asking, and he isn’t going to let me off this plane without some answers.
Of course, Trevor waited me out. He’s not just our manager; he’s the fifth member of the band and he’s one of my best friends. He and I, both being single, end up spending a lot of time together on the road, while my three bandmates spend time with their families.
Reluctantly, I tell Trevor everything. He swears he’ll do what he can to keep my shitshow under wraps, and I promise to keep my shit together and get through the next couple of months. However, he won’t let me off the plane until I agree to meet with Ryan Staley first thing tomorrow morning.
Relenting, I agree to the sit-down, and Trevor and I take the vehicle waiting for us on the tarmac to the hotel in silence. My mind whirls, wondering what he must think of me and the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
I’ve really fucked things up this time.
Chapter Two
Ryan
The ping of the elevator reaching the top floor sends a chaotic rush of nerves through my body. These days nerves aren’t usually an issue for me, and their sudden appearance pisses me off.
