This is a far cry from playing in dive bars and basements.
The guys in the band don’t seem bothered at all; they’re in their element, shouting suggestions back at the technicians and jumping in and out of songs with perfect harmony.
“?a va?” Cole asks me at one point, walking over to place a hand on my shoulder while everyone’s busy fixing something to do with Ace’s microphone.
“Ouais. Yeah. I’m all right. It’s just...a lot,” I admit.
“Yeah.” His mouth pulls up. “We’re kind of a big deal now.”
“You really are, aren’t you?”
Sherbrooke Station formed when I was nineteen and Cole was twenty-three. Ace and Matt pulled the project together. They were roommates in university and found JP at an open mic night in the midst of scouting for other members. In typical artist fashion, Ace mentioned to his weed dealer that they were looking for a bassist. The dealer happened to know Cole.
Music has always made Cole come alive, but Sherbrooke Station brought out a passion in him that was almost scary in its intensity. All four of the guys have always poured everything they’ve got into this band, and it shows in their music. I knew they were special from the first time I heard them play. Everyone who heard them knew. I never doubted they’d make it; it was only a question of when.
I manage to calm myself down after that, and by the end of the soundcheck, my terror is at least edged with excitement about tonight.
Sanjay hired a driver to get the guys around the city today. He seems reluctant to let five passengers into his four-passenger car, but the guys persuade him to let it slide. Ace takes shotgun, and JP wags his eyebrows at me as he opens the back door.
“You gonna sit on Cole’s lap or mine?”
I make a face. “Neither. You can sit on Matt.”
He does.
They offer to leave me to explore the city while they get their interviews over with, but I’ve never been inside a radio station before, so I tag along for that and then accompany them to the press conference at a building down the street. A few other bands from the festival are being interviewed there too. It’s fascinating to see how all this stuff works. I’ve only ever been on the edge of the music world, never right in the middle like this.
We get an hour to wander around Boston before we need to head back to the festival. The band has played here before, and Matt leads us straight to a bakery with ‘the best motherfucking Boston cream pie on the planet.’
Hanging out with them like this is more natural than I expected. I should feel like an intruder, like I’m imposing on their sacred band space, but they let me into their universe as if it’s already got a place marked down for me. Even Cole’s perpetual brooding face is lighter than usual as we roam the streets with our pies.
It might be too early to start calling this a success, but things seem to be turning out exactly like I hoped they would. I mean sure, my pulse still jumpstarts whenever he looks at me. My skin is still hyperaware of his at all times. I still feel the magnetism in every move he makes, but we’ve been living on a bus together for almost twenty-four hours, and I haven’t jumped his bones or screamed out curses at him. That’ssomething.
Voyons, so maybe it’s not quite a success yet.
We come back to an empty bus. The festival started this afternoon, and the grounds are already packed. I tell the guys I’m going to explore for a bit since I get the sense that no matter how welcome I may be, they still need some band bonding time before we take the stage tonight. It’s very cute.
I flash my performer’s wrist band at the gate and wander around the park. There are only two stages, and I don’t recognize either of the bands playing, but I stand near the back of the bigger show and bob my head along to the music. I have to swallow down a nervous lump when I start picturingmyselfup on that stage.
When I get back to the bus, the guys are all piling out of it, shoving each other around and laughing. I can see how buzzed they are on the prospect of playing tonight, and it helps me feel more excited too.
“We’re going to watch the guys before us from backstage!” Matt calls out. “You wanna come?”
“Bien sûr,” I answer. “I do. I just have to get ready real quick. I can catch up with you.”
I head inside and throw on my outfit for the performance: my black lace romper. I bump up my eyeliner from plain black pencil to liquid cat eye before slapping on some silver bracelets, rings, and a necklace. I’m just about to step off the bus when JP’s head pops up in the window
“Attends, Roxy!” he calls. “Can you get my towel out of the bathroom?”
“Your...towel?” I repeat.
“Yeah!” He flashes me a huge, goofy smile. “It’s my lucky concert towel, the one with the stars on it. I almost forgot it.”
“Anything for you, JP,” I joke as I head back towards the bathroom.
The door swings shut behind me as I hunt around the tiny room for the towel. There are about six of them in here, but I don’t see any with stars. Somebody pulls the door open behind me, and I turn around to tell JP his lucky towel isn’t here. Instead, I come face to face with Cole.
“Oh, shit, sorry. I was just looking for JP’s tow—” he tries to tell me, at exactly the same time I start to say the same thing to him.
