Girl? This girl?!
“Dude, come on!” the ginger-haired bandmate droned. “If anything, you can use her as your muse.”
I wanted to stomp my foot and protest. Who the hell said anything about “using” me? Reid’s face turned to stone. The small wrinkle in between his eyebrows disappeared, his jaw clenched, and somehow his eyes turned dark. “I’ll never use another woman as a muse ever again.”
And then he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I jumped in my skin, my heart traveling up to my throat.
My mind instantly started going a million miles a second. A muse? Who was his last muse? Then the lightbulb clicked.
It had to be Angelina. The ghost of Reid’s past. One second, Angelina was tied to Reid’s arm like a ball and chain, her beautiful black hair always glossy and somehow perfectly straight, even in the most humid of places, her smile bright and inviting, Reid’s eyes constantly on her and no place else. Then, it was like she disappeared after their breakup—if it even was a breakup. It was hard to trust all the tabloid jargon. But I do remember reading actual article titles spewing things like, “Angelina Khan. A ghost after the split. Where did she go?” She had somehow vanished. No one knew anything about her. Trust me, the tabloids tried to find every bit of info on her that they could, but it was all speculation.
As soon as Angelina quit showing up hand in hand with Reid, that was when the panty-dropping smiles of the King of Music stopped. It seemed that was when everything for Reid King stopped.
I shook my head, dissolving the thoughts as Carissa and Rod talked to the two other bandmates about me being on the tour bus with them for the remainder of the tour, and I listened intently as they gave them each a set of rules to try and make this situation go as smoothly as possible.
&nb
sp; Things like “Go easy on Reid” and “Be there for him and help him through this” were being spouted out of both Rod and Carissa’s mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell happened to Reid. The YouTube video of him crying onstage assaulted my brain once again, but I shut all those thoughts down.
Instead, I pictured myself wearing those bright green, sparkly dollar sign sunglasses—you know, the ones you can get at any Dollar Store—while saying, “I’m rich, mutha-fuckaaass,” in a Ken Jeong voice as I paid off all my family’s debt.
A little tiff between me and the famous Reid King wasn’t going to get in my way of helping my family.
I was just going to have to figure out a way to deal with his temper tantrums and prove to him that he still had what it took to make a platinum album—regardless of what happened to him in the past.
Newsflash, Reid King: I was here to stay.
???
The day passed without a peep from Reid King. Like nothing, not even an occasional grunt as we all poured onto the tour bus. The bus that was also bigger than my apartment. I’d texted Jane and filled her in on Reid’s little burst of excitement earlier, and she replied with, “That’s why I don’t sleep with famous people.” Which I then wrote out a long list of famous people that she had indeed slept with.
For some reason, she didn’t text back, but I kept hoping she would. At least it would give me something to do other than sitting on the tiny benchseat/couch with my phone clutched in my sweaty palm, staring at the two other bandmates. I kept messing with my yellow sunflower dress, counting down the seconds until we were in the pleasant L.A. sun. That’s where the next show was—none other than Los Angeles, California.
“Soooo…” Jackson stood up from the other couch and came to sit beside me. “Tell us a little about yourself, Brook.”
“It’s Brooklyn,” I corrected with a small smile on my face.
I’d finally learned everyone’s names: you had Reid—aka, the brooding alpha, King of Music; Jackson, the redheaded guitar player; and then Finn, who played the drums. Jackson and Finn were both nice, and I could tell they were trying to make me feel comfortable but also hysterically amused at the fact that Reid was pissed beyond belief that I was sent here to help him.
Jackson scooted a little closer to me on the couch. “Okay, Brooklyn. Tell us about yourself.”
The thought of telling them anything about myself made me want to puke. What was I going to say? Oh hi, I’m Brooklyn. I’m from New York, and I’m an elementary school music teacher. My apartment is smaller than this tour bus, I have never sold a written song to anyone, yet here I am, ready to help one of the most successful artists there is. Oh, and I have one kidney because I donated the other to my very deserving sister, but now my entire family is in debt, which, by the way, is why I’m here. I need the money. I’m poor. The end.
Should I have added in the part where I listen to my neighbor have kinky sex on Thursdays? Because that was really as exciting as my life got.
Instead of saying all of that, I went with, “There’s nothing really special about me.”
Then my eyes shot over to Reid because he snickered. Like a child.
My heart started pounding in my chest. The nervous jitters in my stomach were quickly fleeing and being replaced with pure, rampant foot-stomping anger.
Just then, Rod’s head popped out from the front of the bus. “We’re here, boys. Get out and get some food, stretch your legs, and be back on the bus by eleven. We’re driving through the night, and then tomorrow you can rest before sound check and the show.” Then, he turned his attention to me. “Brooklyn, you’re welcome to go out as well. There are plenty of food places around here, but if you need anything, just holler. Okay?”
I nodded and he disappeared yet again. I had never felt so awkward and out of place in my entire life, and there have been plenty of moments in my life that I have been awkward. It was as if I were in a different universe. One second, I was standing in my classroom door, waving to all my students as they departed the school for summer, and now, I was on a tour bus with famous people! Reid King! I was on a tour bus with Reid King! What?! I felt like I was being thrown to the wolves. I was the lone sheep who was trying to tread lightly and blend in because I had no clue what direction I needed to go. I didn’t even know what to say.
Finn jerked me out of my panic when he yelled, “Yippee! Party time!” and bolted off the bus, smiling like a psycho. A small laugh escaped me. Then, Jackson peered down at me. “Wanna come with us? We can probably get to know each other better outside of this bus, considering someone is sucking all the energy out of it.” Then, he looked over at Reid and very dramatically—although, I believe he was trying to be somewhat discreet—pointed to him while rolling his eyes.
“Umm…” I started.