Steam so heavy I can hardly breathe fills the bathroom and clouds the mirror. I use the corner of my towel to rub a circle and my reflection comes into view. After a shower I don’t look half bad considering the past twenty-four hours. I hum along with The Doors album streaming through my phone and even though I’m tired I can’t help but sway my hips. Using a wipe from my makeup bag, I remove the last of my eyeliner that didn’t scrub off under the stream. Next, I squirt body lotion onto my palm and rub the lavender infused cream onto my legs.
My body aches with exhaustion, but the promise of a giant bed, pillows, and cool sheets spurs me forward to finish my beauty routine but forgo drying my hair. I can’t believe I have the room to myself for the next four weeks. The privacy alone is just short of amazing, though I’m still pissed about Trent letting me win and calling in a doctor. I don’t like to be controlled. I can take care of myself. He meant well and the help came without strings, but there’s a piece of me that loathes it.
Teeth brushed, I wrap the towel snugly against my chest and collect my dirty clothes, bag, and cell. The music cuts short with the buzz of my ringer and I smile before picking up. “Hey, Amie.” I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Lexi! I just heard they had to call a doctor for you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was fine. Trent overreacted. I didn’t need a doctor.” I open the door and am glad to find the band is still out. I need to grab the last of my things from my bunk and the drawer I was storing my clothes in. I’ve already moved my acoustic over, and Trent cleared a spot for my clothes while I was being examined.
“Really?”
“I was already getting better. Besides, twenty-nine wings will clear a person out.” I work and talk, dumping my stuff onto the bed and going back for the rest.
“What? Are you joking? You are making no sense. You sure you okay?”
“I’m fine. The doc gave me some B12 shot and I’m like a new woman. Even after playing my show.”
“I heard you played great. And another packed house. Keep this up, girl. The label is itching for a full album.”
“I’m ready. I’ve got the music and I’ve been writing new stuff, too.” In the open dresser, I rearrange my shirts, skirts, lazy day clothes, and underwear.
“You are the hardest working woman I know. When we get closer to the end of the tour, we’ll work out specifics on recording.”
I blow out a breath when I hear the rumble of the bus coming to life. I’m dragging more than I know and the guys will be back soon. I still need to get dressed and grab a water bottle from the kitchen before I pass out. My gaze drops to the rumpled sheets from last night. I wonder if they smell like him. Fuck. Of course they do, he’s been sleeping here for a month. The independent woman in me wars with the desire to use Trent for a body pillow again.
In my derailed train of thought I realize I haven’t answered Amie. For someone who cannot shut her trap, she’s unusually quiet. “So, is that all? It’s getting late and we’re gonna roll out soon.”
“Lexi.” Her tone is serious as I prop my butt on the edge of the bed. “I don’t really know how to bring this up.”
“Just say it, Amie.”
“Your mom called me.”
“Okay ...” And now I’ll be calling my mother tomorrow to reiterate boundaries.
“She filled me in on everything going on with your father. I’m so sorry, too. I know you weren’t close, but still.” She’s sorry for me, sorry for my dad, but the sympathy isn’t needed.
“Is there a point to all this?” I snap because I’m over this conversation.
“Do you need to take some time from the tour? To go see him? It’s not in your contract, but given the circumstances, I’m sure I can work something out.”
I shake my head even though she can’t see. She’s trying to be nice. A good friend. “I’m not leaving the tour.”
“But your father is dying, Lex. If we go to the press I’m sure I can—”
“No. Absolutely not.” Scratch the good friend. She’s interested in the business angle; I should’ve known. I can’t count on anyone but myself.
“Lexi. We need to discuss this.”
“No, Amie. We really don’t. I made my position clear from the start. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find someone who can.” My fingers ache from how tightly they wrap around the phone.
“I know. And as your friend I’m sympathetic, but as your agent I have to recommend we put together a press release. This is gonna go wide when he ... when he passes. And someone’s going to make the connection, Lexi. If we can stay ahead of this, it would be best.”
“Best for who? You? The label?”
“It’d make getting you your own headlining tour a hell of a lot easier.”
“That’s not how I want it. You know that.”
