Page 4 of Revel
Want an example?
I’ll give you one. I take a good grip on Tucker and then give him a hard shove. He falls backward and against the wall behind him, equipment crashing to the floor. “Fuck you,” I tell him, kicking over a stack of CDs against the wall.
Tucker shakes his head. “I can already tell how the One Vibe tour is going to go with you on it.”
One Vibe? What the fuck is he talking about? I turn my head to look at Cruz, then Hardin and Deacon. They all give me the same look everyone else usually does.We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d freak the fuck out.
I search their eyes and demand, “What’s he talking about?”
They shrug.
That’s it. I’m over all the bullshit. And then I leave, because I can.
Liz catches me as I’m pushing my way out the door. “Can you go one day without assaulting people?”
My heart pounds in my chest. I think about counting the beats just to distract myself. “Apparently not.” I shake her hands off my jacket and pat my pockets almost manically for another cigarette. I light it, take a drag and then smile at her. “What’s One Vibe?”
“You’re going on tour,” she mumbles, shaking her head as she looks over my shoulder at the guys exiting the room and Tucker throwing meaningless threats that our shit will never be played on his station again. It’s crap. Our album is charted at number one. If they don’t play the music, people are gonna go where it is playing. Greed overrides pissed off.
And then I remember what Liz just said. A tour. I thought we just came off one. “What tour? Who’s on it and how long?”
“Seven bands, four months. You agreed to this already, Revel.”
I barely have enough energy to reply with, “I must have been high.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Do you even know what city you’re in?”
“Not a fucking clue.” I have a terrible memory. I’m not sure why—because I can’t remember—but I do know I have a bad one. It could be a product of my life when I was younger and didn’t want to remember, combined with my current lifestyle, and the substances that sometimes consume it, but I don’t usually recall the fine print of anything.
My smirk sparks Liz’s meanness. “I really wish you’d pay attention when we’re talking.”
I wink at her. “I sometimes pay attention.”
“Not very well.”
“Admit it, Liz-B, you live to remind me.”
“Not really,” she sneers. “I can think of better things to do with my time than taking care of you four.”
Deacon pipes up with, “Don’t lump me with them. I’m responsible and have a baby on the way.”
Hardin laughs. “Yeah, probably more than one.”
The band shuffles around me, and Cruz leans into Liz’s shoulder. “When do we leave, Lizzy?”
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I check my email where our tour manager has, in fact, told me about this. I neglected to read any of the emails.
My life is a play I’m not part of. I’m sitting in the audience like everyone else, waiting for the next scene. This is what happens when no one has your back. This is what happens when you give your heart to one woman and she fucking rips that motherfucker out like it wasn’t yours to begin with. This is what happens when you follow your dream to make art, but it comes with a price. A price I never wanted to pay. A price that will always be too high.
Sure enough, I have an email telling me all about the tour. Scrolling through the list of bands, I find three I know I’ll have a problem with.
Hensley Shaw. Lying cheating whore can suck my fucking nuts.
Taylan Ash. Pop princess. You might think she’s the princess in this, but we’re all evil in someone’s story.
Breckin Thomas. His balls haven’t dropped and his singing confirms it.
Where do they find this kind of talent in pop music? Disneyland?
