“Bristol, wait!” He yells as I continue walking. I chance one last look at him before I turn the corner, but he’s not watching me. He’s looking at his palm, his face marred with pure agony.
Chapter 25 Bristol Present
The town car comes to a stop outside the Austin outdoor arena. I’m sandwiched in between Boston and Rhyit in the back seat, and my thighs are already sweating from being so close together. Why men can’t sit with their legs partially closed, I’ll never understand.
The driver gets out of the car and rounds the front of the car to open the back door. Once the door is open, I practically crawl over Rhyit to get out. The drive over here was silent, all of us lost in our thoughts. Rhyit got the call this morning that Larkin would like us to play Pistol for the remainder of the tour. The New Mexico show was a huge hit with the paparazzi, and the news outlets have been playing the clips nonstop. Rhyit attempted to tell him no, but Larkin wasn’t having it. He threatened to pull the next album and instead release a greatest hits album, which in this industry is a knife to your career. If you aren’t releasing new material, you can become irrelevant. Not that they actually would, they’re fan base is massive, and they would wait for new material, buying up the greatest hits album by the hoards. Rhyit pleaded with Steve, but he still held tight on the reins. At the end of the conversation, Rhyit asked me if I would be okay with it, and while I wasn’t, I nodded anyway. I was lying naked in his bed, with nothing but a sheet on, what was I supposed to say? No.
“Plight, sound check in 15,” Andy says from the side of the pavilion we’re sitting under. Her cheery smile pisses me off. She called daddy dearest and told him about the show, I guarantee it. She wanted to make a good impression and probably raced back to her hotel room to go over every detail with him. I have to remind myself that she doesn’t know the story behind the song, the reason I’m so hesitant to play it. Very few people do. The breeze blows my hair as I stare out at the sea of small pavilions. These are normally picnic shelters, but today they are housing some of the most legendary rock bands of the last decade. I look around, seeing all the men and women who graced my walls as a teenager and fan girl for a moment. It’s amazing that we’re here, that these people respect us and the music we make enough to congratulate us when we get off stage, to offer a joint or a beer when we’re walking by.
“Hey, Pistol.” A woman with long black hair says as she walks past me, her band just coming off stage. I look at her and goosebumps ride against my skin. Holy shit, she knows my name. She knows who I am. This woman is famous in her own right, but her and her band are the stuff legends are made of.
“Hey!” I say back, feeling my eyes widen.
“Knock ‘em dead out there. Can’t wait to hear Pistol again.” She says with a smile, and my seventeen year old self squeals and does a dance inside my head.
“Will do.” I say timidly.
“God, I love that song.” She says to her bandmates as she walks away, they all nod their heads, agreeing with her. Cue internal screaming.
Rhyit passes her on his way back to the pavilion and gives her a smile before making his way over to me.
“Do you know who that was?” I squeal.
“Yeah,” he nods, “do you?” He smiles at me, of course I know who it is, but he’s teasing me. The stupid smile on my face must give it away.
“She said she can’t wait to hear Pistol, and then she turned to the guys and said how much she loves the song.” I repeat the entire exchange for him.
“I told you, people love it.”
“I know you did, I just didn’t believe you, or didn’t want to believe you.” My hand slaps my bare thigh, and I lean back in the fold up chair.
Boston ambles up to us from who knows where, his face a picture of happiness.
“Guys over there have some stuff if you want.” He says, kicking Rhyit’s chair. I look over at him, I don’t know if he’s still using. I haven’t seen him do anything since that night in LA, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been doing it behind closed doors. I would be none the wiser.
“Nah, I’m good.” He answers, I notice a slight tensing of his jaw. Boston looks at him like he just said he was Peter Pan, and he’s not going back to Neverland.
“For real?” Boston asks with wide eyes. Rhyit’s eyes snap to Boston, and his mouth draws tight. “Alright, you guys ready for sound check?”
“Yup.” Rhyit answers quickly, hopping up from his chair and walking towards the backstage area. My eyes find Boston’s, and we both have the same what the fuck expression. I stand from my chair and follow after Rhyit, his black T-shirt disappears into the sea of people working behind the scenes. Once we reach the side stage area, I spot him leaned up against a speaker with a cigarette against his mouth and a pissed off scowl. He takes a long drag of the cigarette in his hand as he sees us approach.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, taking the cigarette from between his two fingers. I don’t smoke very often, but I like it sometimes, the calming effect of the nicotine helps with stress. I put the filter up to my lips and inhale. The taste of the tobacco fills my mouth as I exhale the smoke into the air.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He replies, grabbing the smoke back from me. He places the tan filter against his lips, and I can’t help but appreciate how sexy he looks right now. Tight black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a fuck around and find out scowl on his lips around the end of a Marlboro. This is rockstar porn. His dark hair falls in front of one of his green eyes, and I have to physically stop myself from pushing the strands away from his face to see both of his eyes. He watches me as he takes another drag, the cherry at the end of the cigarette glowing red against the dark lighting. He exhales heavily, the smoke rising between us as he passes the cigarette back to me. The familiarity in this moment brings a small smile to my lips. We’ve been here before, doing this exact same dance.
“What’s the smile for?” He asks as I take a drag.
“Some things never change.” I smile wider.
“And others never stop.” He sighs but smiles anyway. “You sure you’re good with this? Pistol I mean.”
I think for a moment, the word no sitting at the tip of my tongue, but I nod instead, exhaling the smoke into the air between us. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I say with more confidence than I feel. He nods his head at me as I flick the cigarette to the ground, squishing it beneath my black boot.
We walk out to the stage, the arena is empty right now, but in a few hours it will be flooded with people, this show along with the next four shows are completely sold out.
“I think we should try Alex’s song.” Rhyit says as soon as we’re all ready to go.
“Is it ready?” Boston croaks, his voice holding disbelief. “We’ve never played that one together.” He looks to me, and I shrug as I twirl my sticks.