On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

A FEW DAYS later, we were all crammed in the van once more, driving down the road to our next gig.  It was close to Halloween, and we were heading toward Detroit.  I was in a pissy mood, brought on in part by the awkwardness caused by Liz and Barbie’s “breakup,” for lack of a better word.  What made it worse was that they were in denial that they ever “had” anything, so we couldn’t even talk about it.

I was also pissed because the weather was getting cold, and, peeking at our itinerary, I was astounded at the seeming lack of planning.  We still had a shitload of shows up north and it was going to start snowing any day now.

I was even more irritated because I had no good answer for when my parents kept asking me on the phone how our studies were going.  I couldn’t just lie to them, so I skirted around it, did some hemming and hawing, and told them what Peter had told us—to find study materials online until the real deal arrived.  But he could make shit up all he wanted.  I knew now that there were no study materials coming, any more than I’d have a 24/7 chaperone arriving soon or a bodyguard to accompany my every move.  Sure, lots of what Peter had told us had been coming true—the packed concerts, sold out shows, and horny fans—but he’d lied about what he had to so he could get us on the road and earning money.  He’d sold us a bill of goods that was nothing but sweet talk—and it wouldn’t be long before my parents and my bandmates’ parents would find out the truth.  I think Peter was just biding his time, hoping our album would go platinum so he could say, “Oh, don’t worry.  They can study once they’re home.”

Stupid Andrew had over-partied the night before, so Peter was driving—and he was a shitty driver.  I hated when he toted us around, because his driving made me nervous, especially in heavy traffic.  Right now, we were on a four-lane highway, so it wasn’t too bad, but it was only a matter of time before we approached another city…and God help us.

So, yeah, I was in Pissyville.  I’d even bought a mocha latte at Starbucks before we’d hit the road, thinking a massive dose of sugar and caffeine would improve my mood.  Instead, it just made me a more alert bitch, and I was grouchy as hell.  I needed to take it out on someone.

“So who here wants to talk about the elephant in the room?” I asked from my spot on the right side of the van in the very back.  Oh, yes, I made sure my voice was loud enough to be heard by all and also annoy the shit out of Andrew, sleepy slick boy.

Vicki was game.  “Elephant?  What elephant?”

I smirked.  “Our two friends who want to pretend they didn’t have a relationship that has now made everything feel stiff and awkward for all of us.”

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows.  And, where angels fear to tread, my friend ran a marathon in cleats.  “You mean Liz and Barbie breaking up?”

“Ding!  Ding!  Ding!  You got it, my friend.”  I snarled.  “Let’s talk about that shit.”

Barbie turned around in her seat, looking like she was ready to gouge my eyes out with her red fingernails.  “Shut the fuck up, Kyle.  You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“I
don’t
?  Are you trying to tell me you and Liz
weren’t
sleeping together?”

Liz was her typical silent self, but I could tell from her expression that the subject matter was making her uncomfortable as hell.  Barbie, though—her dirty laundry was always fair game, as far as she was concerned.  She pointed a finger at me as though she were going to jab it in my chest.  “I didn’t say shit.”

“Yeah, but know what, Barbie?  The fact that you guys won’t talk to each other—hell, won’t even
look
at each other—is making it hard for the rest of us to work together.  So either get over your shit or let’s talk about it.”

She glared at me, scrunching her mouth into a tight little ball, but she turned around without saying another word.  After a few minutes, Peter asked, “Are we done now?”

I shrugged and rolled my eyes and then rested my head against the window, hoping to sleep the day away.  It was hard enough, living this life on the road, but it was a hell of a lot more bearable when we five girls got along.  When we didn’t, I felt isolated and alone.  Peter was a bit of a vulture, and he liked separating his prey.  We were better when we were united.  He left us alone more when we stuck together.

We stopped in some little town on the way to wherever the hell we were going, and when I went to the bathroom to wash my hands before our food got to the table, Barbie came in and stood, looking at me.  “What?  If you can’t say anything to the group, don’t fucking bother now.”

She looked beaten down then, more humble than I’d ever seen her.  She shook her head as if to assure me she wasn’t going to play her usual psycho act.  “It’s not like that, Kyle.  I hate this too.”

Suddenly, the bitch in me fizzled and I felt human again.  I couldn’t kick her when she was down.  I leaned my ass against the sink, almost sitting, and said, “So what’s up?”

Her eyes looked weary.  “God, this shit sucks.  I—
I
was the one who broke up.  Liz was getting super clingy and…and…and, for her, I don’t think it was just fun.  I think she was totally serious about it all.  I don’t
want
a relationship, especially with a girl.  Girls are fun to play around with, but I love cock, you know?”  A tear dropped on her cheek, but I couldn’t help but let out a giggle at her last sentence.  She laughed then too, in spite of her emotions.  “Seriously, Kyle.  I don’t know what to do.  I love Liz as a friend and a bandmate, but I don’t want to sleep with her anymore, and I definitely don’t want her writing me any more love poems.”

“Oh, God.  What can I do?”

She shrugged.  “No idea.  I think…”  She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair.  “I think Liz really
is
gay and I think she’s in love with me.”

“Well, I guess she just needs to get over it.”  I hugged Barbie, hoping she knew I supported her.  “You were straight up with her?”

“Yeah.”

“They say pain makes for good lyrics.”

“Jesus, Kyle.  Don’t say that shit.”

“Just trying to make you feel better.”

“‘Kay, well, why don’t you just stick with playing guitar, ‘cause you suck at being compassionate.”

We were both laughing as we left the girls’ room, our arms still wrapped around each other’s waists.  Liz’s eyes on me as we sat down didn’t go unnoticed.  I think I inadvertently helped the elephant in the room to grow to gigantic proportions.

* * *

So…I’d been experimenting with different drugs on the road, but Vicki took it to a whole new level.  What was worse was she became enamored of coke.  Sure, I’d done it a couple of times but, like any drug, I could take it or leave it.  Not Vicki.  When she found a new lover, she wanted to spend every waking moment with him.

Drugs were her vice, her poison, and her passion.

I hoped she’d grow weary of coke like she had pot and Ecstasy, but I had no way of knowing.  She still smoked cigarettes and drank whatever alcohol she could get her hands on like there was no tomorrow.

Most of her money went to drugs instead of food on the road, but I also knew she hooked up with groupies (if that’s what you’d call the males who came to concerts and wanted to fuck us) who gave her anything she wanted.  I also knew what she did to get that shit…but, as her friend, I tried not to lecture.  After all, she was older than I was by about a year.  She was actually eighteen and it was legal for her to buy cigarettes and lots of other stuff.  The last thing she’d want was for me to tell her what to do.

But I worried—oh, God, I worried, and I got more and more concerned as the days went on.  She got thinner and more sickly looking, and no one else seemed to give a shit, Peter least of all.  I considered calling or texting her mom and then thought better of it.  We were on the road.  What the hell could she do?  I’d make her upset and even more worried than I was, with one exception—there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, because she was stuck in Colorado.  She had a shitty job and a van on its last tires.

And, truth be told, I knew in desperation she’d likely get the other parents on board.  She’d tell them what was going on and they’d all pull us from our tour.  No way in hell was that going to happen.  I was living my dream.

I made a silent deal with myself.  If Vicki got really bad—like so bad she couldn’t perform or injured herself—then I would tell her mom.  And, in the meantime, maybe I’d have to find a way to tell her I was concerned…but that would have felt hypocritical, because I was quickly becoming known as the group’s party animal.  I drank more than anyone else, resulting in many a shitty hangover, and I never turned down trying anything once.  The problem, though, was that I could handle the shit and I never fucked up a show, high or not, hung over or not.  The show—the fans, the performance—was the most important thing.  Nothing would stop that for me, and if I’d been that wasted or suffering the day after, I would have kissed all that shit goodbye.

Always, the music came first.  Always and forever.

* * *

I had an opportunity.  We’d had a show in Seattle—a show that should have been one of our best, because the audience was amazing and the venue was equally impressive.  I was blitzed, sure, but I’d put on a hell of a show.  In fact, I had more cheers for my solos than ever before.  Vicki’s drumming was shitty that night, though, and it made it hard for all of us to concentrate or perform as well as we could have.  I knew that it probably sounded like shit to the audience too.

I was disappointed and I was pissed, and she was trying to hook up with some guys before we headed back to our hotel.  I’d considered seeing if Andrew or even Liz would help me with my friend and then realized she might not trust me if I staged a mini-intervention.

I saw her hanging next to a guy by the moving van out back that carried our instruments.  She was leaning against it, talking to this scuzzy guy who looked like he hadn’t bathed in a few days.  I wondered where TT and Bad Dog were and I realized they were probably smoking somewhere or actually watching a show—or maybe even trying to score their own action.  Rock chicks would settle for a roadie if they couldn’t get their claws in a rock star.  TT and Bad Dog had likely gotten good at using our band to their advantage.  And good for them.  Knowing Peter’s cheap ass, they probably weren’t making much either, so they had to find compensation any way they could.

I got close to her and stood silently, and the guy glanced over at me.  “Holy shit.  You’re the guitarist.  Kyle, right?”

Okay, so I couldn’t help it.  That shit was flattering and hadn’t gotten old yet.  It wasn’t that I wanted to steal any of Vicki’s thunder.  And, when I glanced at my friend, I could see a look of desperation in her eyes.  She wasn’t angry or upset with me, but she was probably going to be if I had my way.  “Yeah.  What’s up with you guys?”

“Your girl here told me she likes to party.”

I nodded.  “That she does.”

“Kyle does too.”

I looked my friend in the eye, trying to pull her away from the guy’s siren song.  “Yeah…but I’m thinking maybe we should take tonight off.  Recover a little bit.”

She laughed and said, “Hair of the dog, Kyle.”

The smile slid off my face.  “No, Vicki.  We need to take a break.  We sounded like shit tonight.”

“You guys sounded awesome.”

I turned to that fucking leech and did my best not to scratch his eyes out.  “What the fuck kind of drugs you smoking, pal, that you think we sounded awesome?  We fucking sucked.  One of my bandmates was flat off and on all night and my friend here, much as I love her, couldn’t have kept a beat with a metronome tonight.  We were all off and we gave an okay performance—okay
only
because you haven’t heard what we can
really
do.”

“God, you don’t have to be a cunt about it.”

My eyelids lowered.  “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

Vicki waved her hands in front of herself, palms facing the ground.  Or maybe she was shaking—I couldn’t tell.  “Don’t mind Kyle.”

“Uh, no. 
Do
mind Kyle.  My friend here needs some time to chill, not get all hopped up on whatever new shit you’re giving her, and if I have to be a
cunt
to get your attention, I will, cocksucker.”

“I don’t need this shit.”

“Don’t listen to her.”  Vicki looked at me.  “Get the fuck out of here, Kyle.  I don’t need you.”

I nodded, shoving my tongue between my molars and backing away.  “I’ll talk to you when you’re sober, Vicki.  Just be careful.”  Inspired at the last second, I grabbed the dirty guy’s collar and pulled his face close enough to smell that he had rotting teeth in his mouth.  “Anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and skin you alive.”

Yeah, so I had no intention of harming him, but I was hoping to scare the shit out of him.  He was just as thin as Vicki and high as a kite, so I suspected I could maybe take him if I had to.

He shrugged his shoulders and sneered, but his eyes gave him away.  He gave me a once over with his eyes but I knew he was a little afraid of me—and, at this point, that was all I could expect, because my friend was too far gone to give a fuck.