“Wondered what?” I ask, the same smile sits on my face.
“What it would be like to kiss you. I could die a happy man now.” He laughs, and I can’t help but laugh lightly as well.
“Hey Bristol,” he says, still holding my face in his palms, “we won’t forget each other, right?” He stares into my eyes, waiting for my answer.
“Never,” I promise as a lump forms in my throat. This is an ending for us, we’re both aware enough to realize that.
“If sometime in the near future you do get a chance to talk to him, go easy on him, babe. He’s missed you more than you’ll ever know. We all have.” With that parting line, he releases my face and pain lances through me. I miss his touch immediately, but not in a sexual way, it’s a comfortable, easy way.
“I’ve missed you guys too.” I swipe a thumb under my eyes to clean up the mascara that has run.
“I know, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” He nods, and I have to wonder when this goofball of a boy I used to know turned into a man who’s wise beyond his years.
“Good Luck, Pistol. I’ll be rooting for you to win, always.” He walks to the door and stands there for a moment before opening it. He turns to say something else but thinks better of it and instead gives me a wink, just like he always did. I smile back at him, and he exits the room, the door closing behind him with a loud click.
I want to sink down to the floor, to wallow there for a moment after everything that has happened in the past twelve hours, but I remind myself that no one is going to save me, and I’ll have to stand up on my own two feet to get out of here, so I do. I walk out of the room a few moments later, and I survive just like I’ve always done.
Chapter 29 Bristol Present
I’ve lost him again. After our blow up in the bus this morning, Rhyit has been missing in action for most of the day. He’s missed sound check, he missed an interview with some local newspaper, and thankfully, he missed me breaking the fuck down in the bathroom of the bus. I should have told him, I should still tell him the whole truth, but he hasn’t been around all day for me to talk to, so I sit under the tent in New Orleans and consistently push my blonde hair from one shoulder to the other while I scour the crowd looking for him.
“Plight, 5 minutes.” One of the tour guys with a clipboard says as he walks by.
“Fuck, where is he?” Boston groans, leaning back in the chair.
“He’ll be here.” I say. I’m not sure who I’m reassuring, me or Boston, but it doesn’t work. I tap my sticks against the inside seam of my boot and wait anxiously.
Two minutes before we’re supposed to be backstage, Rhyit appears out of nowhere on the side of the tent. He’s swaying and has his black sunglasses on. He doesn’t say anything to me as he grabs a bottle of water from the table in the middle of the tent.
“Ready?” Boston asks, jumping up from his seat.
“Fuck yeah, let’s do this.” Rhyit yells excitedly, and I lock eyes with Boston from behind Rhyit. We both know he’s not in good shape, but there’s no way we can stop this shit show of a train from rolling through the station now. I follow the boys as they talk animatedly in front of me. I don’t know what Rhyit is on, and I pray it’s just alcohol, but who knows at this point. Once we reach backstage, I stand next to them awkwardly as we wait for our name to be called.
“You and I are going to have a fucking chat when this is over.” Rhyit says, leaning over to whisper in my ear. I nod once, but his face doesn’t leave the side of mine. He reeks of whiskey, but I don’t dare move, I need him to talk to me. I need to explain myself. Warmth slides against the side of my face, and I realize he just licked me as the breeze hits the now wet area.
“Did you lick me?” I ask, running my palm against the side of my face to remove the spit.
“Yupp.” Rhyit says through a burp. “I licked you, so you’re mine. Those are the rules.”
A tight smile leaves me. “Are we going back to playground rules now?”
“It’s always been playground rules, baby. Finders keepers.” He laughs and removes his glasses from his face, and while his eyes are bloodshot to hell, his pupils are normal and his jaw isn’t moving at a speed that would turn rocks into cement. I sigh my relief at the sight. Drunk Rhyit, I can deal with, drunk and coked out Rhyit, I cannot.
“You’re a tornado, you know that?” He hiccups. “You have pretty eyes and a pulse, but you’re destructive as fuck to everything around you, myself included.”
“Is that a compliment? Are you flirting with me?” I narrow my eyes at him teasingly.
“We need to talk after this. I’m still really fucking pissed at you,” he says as the announcer calls our name. We walk on stage together, and I take a seat behind my drum kit. Boston takes his spot up front with his bass, and Rhyit walks to his spot center stage. The crowd loses their minds when he smiles and grabs the mic off the stand.
“Hello New Orleans!” He shouts into the mic. “Who’s ready to fucking party?”
The audience shouts back at him with beers and drinks held high above their heads.
“Now you guys all know my boy Boston,” Rhyit turns towards Boston, and Boston gives a low down beat on his bass. “But can we give a warm fucking welcome to Pistol Graham back on the drums?” I smile broadly and give a quick combo on my drums before twirling my sticks above my head. They all cheer, and I smile harder.
“My god, isn’t she beautiful? No offense to Boston, but she has to be the best looking person on this stage today.” He laughs into the mic, and a blush creeps up my cheeks as the crowd whistles at me.
“I resent that.” Boston says, his voice barely picking up on the mic.