“You think about me when you jerk off?” I smiled. That was a nice thought. “Not all those women out there throwing their panties on stage?”
And here I’d believed that was just a metaphor.
Silly me.
Bear had actually started a collection.
“Baby, I can barely concentrate on anything else when you’re with me,” he murmured, nuzzling my breast. “When you’re not? I can’t think about anything but you.”
“So no Pixies for you, even if I’m not on the tour?” I eyed him, only slightly doubtful.
“No Pixies for me.” He laughed. “Besides, she scares me.”
“She’s only this big.” I held up my thumb and forefinger and he eyed the space between.
“Yeah, but didn’t you hear her yelling at Bear backstage?”
I shook my head. Dale treated me to the gossip—Pixie went off on him for taking a girl back to the bus alone. All by himself. No Pixie invited. That, apparently, hadn’t gone over well. But from the sounds across the way, they’d made up—I knew the high-pitched sound of Pixie’s climax and hadn’t heard any other girl’s voice.
While I’d been thinking about Pixie and Bear, Dale drifted off, his breathing deep and even. I watched him sleep for a while, thankful things seemed to have quieted down over there. There was about a fifteen minute respite and then came the sound of Bear snoring. I was used to it by now and could sleep through it, but for some reason I felt wakeful.
Tomorrow was our first show in New York. Finally, home. We had worked our way up the coast, getting closer and closer. We played a lot of shows in New York, so there would be time to visit. I was looking forward to seeing John—even if I dreaded facing Chrissy. And I was desperate to see Aimee and how big her belly was getting!
But I was worried about Ben. I’d left things… well, I’d just left them. And I hadn’t called to talk to him either. Somehow he got Chelsea’s number—the man would have made a great private investigator. Or con man, Dale said. Chelsea was the only one with a mobile phone so we relied on her for communication. That was the number John had in case of emergencies. I gave it to Aimee so she could call if something happened—I wouldn’t even say “with the baby,” out loud. Dale’s manager, Greg, had called on it several times to talk to Dale and the band to check on him and see how the tour was going.
The first time she told me someone named Ben called for me, I froze. Dale explained who he was while I ran to the back of the bus to the bathroom. I’d just shut the door and locked it and sat there, shaking. I knew I had to face it—him—eventually. I was so afraid he was going to try to manipulate me again. How could I trust him now?
Just thinking about it made me cry. It was better not to think about it. So I told Chelsea if he called again, I didn’t want to talk to him. She did as I asked, but she continued to tell me every time he called—and he called often, usually at least once a week—giving me a long, steady look, like she expected something from me. I would just say, “Okay, thanks,” and leave it at that. But she looked at me like she didn’t want to leave it.
I liked Chelsea—everyone liked Chelsea—but I hated when she looked at me like that.
I glanced over at the map I’d tacked up to the wall, tracing our route from Florida. Time was strange on the road, and everything blended all together. The venues were all the same, big stadiums, big speakers, big crowds. But for the band, it was like living in a tunnel. They were herded from place to place, down hallways, sitting backstage, waiting for the lights to go down.
It was, surprisingly, a lot of waiting. You would have thought it would be far more exciting. These were big rock stars—or, at least, they were on their way to becoming big rock stars—where was the booze, the drugs, the girls? Well—Bear had the girls covered. And there was booze, and they did get drunk a few times after the show, but it wasn’t a constant or even a usual thing. Drugs I never saw—although I did hear Chelsea tell Dale once they were available upon request.
The best part of being on the road, for me, besides being with Dale, which was a given, was having front row seats to every show. And it never got old. I asked Dale if he ever got bored, playing the same songs over and over every night and he looked at me like I’d just sprouted three heads and was speaking Latin. I’d only asked because you would think it would get boring—but it didn’t. The time between shows got boring sometimes, but never the shows themselves. They were the whole reason for all the miles, all the tunnels, all the hotels, all the waiting. The shows and the fans. And as excited as I knew the fans were—I remembered being one—for the guys in Black Diamond, it was like Christmas every night they got to go on stage.
New York was no exception, although there was a little more excitement in the air because for most of us, this was home—or close enough to it. I woke up tired to the sound of Chelsea’s voice as she opened the door and stuck her head into the bus. We’d been rolling the last time I remembered, the miles ticking by on smooth asphalt in the dark, the wheels on the bus, round and round like that kids’ song, a lullaby that finally put me to sleep.
Dale was gone—so it was already a bad day. He’d taken to waking up early on the road, putting on a pair of headphones, strapping on his walkman, and going for a run. He’d never been a runner before, but he said it cleared his head in the morning. And that was a new thing too. Dale was not a morning guy. He and sunshine didn’t get along.
“Team meeting in half an hour!” Chelsea called. “Rise and shine, gentlemen and ladies! Whatever it was, you’ve had enough time to sleep it off, if not, too bad. This is your only notice before I come in with a bowl of ice water!”
I put my head back down on the pillow, looking at my little map and thinking about Dale. We spent most of our time together, except when he was on stage. Even during radio interviews, I went with him and watched. I couldn’t begrudge him time alone. I just hated it because I didn’t like being alone with my own thoughts. But that was my problem, not his.
o;Nope.”
“Not even a little?” I raised my eyebrows, searching his face.
“Well… maybe a little.” He smiled.
“But you’re gonna do it anyway?”
“Yeah.”
“Good man.” I gave him two thumbs up and he laughed.
I leaned my head against his shoulder as we waited, feeling so very blessed.