“Well if that’s what’s convenient foryou,” I answer dryly.
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Look, you know I want what’s best for the band as much as you do,” I assure him, “and I agree that Roxanne and I are...not heading anywhere anytime soon. Butfake dating? Really? I’m not starring in a movie for teenage girls.”
“Yeah, Ace is more the type for that.” He snickers, and I almost do too. “Just tell me you’ll think about it. Unless you have other ideas?”
I shrug. I don’t.
“I’ll...think about thinking about it.”
With that said, I try to change the subject as effectively as possible by mentioning his girlfriend. Kay’s flying into Chicago in a week to spend a few days tagging along with the tour. Matt seems to forget that anything but sunshine and rainbows exist as we talk about her arrival.
Soundcheck goes as good as it has for the past few shows, which means we’re all just a little too tense to sound perfect. We’re notbad, but we’re not Sherbrooke Station level good, either. We all split up for some solitude after, and I’ve been wandering the festival for over an hour when I get a text from Matt.
So it’s laundry day and Sanjay sent one of the crew into town to do it all, but they forgot half the clothes here. Sanjay’s busy, I’m leaving for an interview now, and apparently everyone else is doing shit too. Do you think you could Uber it over? If my laundry spends any longer sitting in a bag, there’s no way Kay is going to want to sleep with me.
I hope by ‘sleep’ he just means sharing his bunk. I don’t know if the two of them are crazy enough to actually want to bang on the bus, but hedoesseem really excited to see her.
I’ll get your stuff washed, but remember you owe me. Also remember that I sleep underneath you.
Sanjay is being his usual spazzed out self when I arrive back at the bus and practically throws a laundry basket filled with several individual bags of clothes at my face when I knock on the door. He already has a car waiting for me.
Except for a few loudly spinning machines, the Laundromat looks empty when I arrive, but the wall of the entryway means I can only see half the room. The sound of someone mumbling to themselves lets me know I’m not alone. When I make out what the person’s saying, I stop dead in my tracks.
‘One of the crew’ my ass. I should have known.
“Voyons, ben câlice, là!”
I have a hunch there aren’t too many people in DC who drop strings of French Canadian slang when they’re pissed, so it’s not much of a shock when I turn the corner and find Roxanne with her back to me, squatting down in front of a washing machine at the end of the room. She’s pulling a load of bright pink clothes out, and from the way she holds up each item and swears at it before dropping it into a basket on the floor, I can tell they were probably white when they went in.
I set my own basket down on the machine next to me, and she turns her head at the sound. Her eyes go wide.
“What are you doing here?”
I shrug and nod towards my basket.
She shifts around so she’s facing me. “Laundry duty too, huh? Wait...”
I watch the realization hit her.
“Matt,” she hisses.
I guess ‘Just tell me you’ll think about it’ was code for ‘I’m going to keep on interfering with your shit.’
“He sent you here too?” Roxanne clarifies, and I nod. “ThisParent Trapthing is getting ridiculous. When are they going to get it in their heads that we’re not getting back together?”
I try not to let that sting, but it does. The pull I feel to be near her is almost a physical force when we’re in a room together like this. Meanwhile, she’s doing everything she can to push me away.
She goes back to pulling pink-stained shirts out of the machine until she grabs hold of something that makes her shout, “Aha!” I watch as she holds up a piece of red fabric and waves it around.
“I have found the culprit.” She gingerly drops it into the basket. “Who do you want to bet owns a red leopard print thong?”
I find myself smirking. “It’s gotta be Ace.”
She lets out a snort as she straightens up and carries the laundry over to the dryers. Her snorts are goddamn adorable.
“Well thanks for scarring my brain for life with that mental image, Cole.” She pulls an empty dryer’s door open and starts shoving clothes inside. “Whoever’s it is—and there’s only one person on the bus with a fondness for leopard print—”
