Page 50 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

Jordan exhales and sits back, happy for one thing to already be crossed off her list. “Thank you,” she says again.

“You’re welcome, Jordan.”

I leave her to get dressed, securing the doors closed behind me.

I reach the golden lobby with a smile.

It’s gonna be a good day.

“It’s shot time!”

I toss my drink back; the bourbon burn a bit more tingly tonight.

“All right!” Jordan says to our circle. Her voice clenches as she shakes it off. “Harvey, you’re up in three minutes!”

We all take turns patting him on the back and wishing luck to our opening act. Then he takes off toward the stage with Addison, their hands lovingly entwined as she whispers in his ear.

Good for them.

As the others continue getting ready, I grab my drumsticks off the table in the dressing room and step out into the backstage area. Stagehands and roadies pass me quickly, rushing to complete their last-minute tasks before it’s lights up on Harvey Moon.

Jordan stands near the wings. She’s talking to August and Chrissy, all with their clipboards, all making sure this show goes off without a hitch.

I plant my back to the wall and watch. I watch her speak with authority; her smile loose and friendly. She carries a noticeable lack of tension in her shoulders tonight. There’s a swiftness to her stride that wasn’t there yesterday.

She’s happy. Laid back. Perhaps not as carefree as I’d like, but we’ll get there.

I absently roll a drumstick through my fingers out of habit, memories of her writhing on my lap last night making my pants feel tighter.

Jordan glances up suddenly, her eyes drawn to my location. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t show that she saw me at all. If you don’t count the sudden twinkle in her eyes, that is.

As the lights dim and the sold-out Chicago crowd goes wild, the opening notes of Harvey’s new songBlue Eyesfills the arena.

A minute later, Addison steps back from the wings. She scans around backstage until she spots me in the dark. Then shebeelines in my direction with quick, purposeful steps, her black boots thumping along the floor.

“Hey, Bronson,” she says.

I nod a silent greeting.

She spins around and stands beside me, planting her back against the wall. “So... how you doing?” she asks, her voice far too perky.

I nod again.

“Good. That’s good,” she repeats, her eyes on the floor.

We stand still for a minute, listening to the song.

“There’s nothing going on, then?” she asks. “With you? Nothing new or... exciting in your life?”

I shake my head.

“Yeah. Yeah, me neither. Except for Harvey, I mean. He’s great. It’s been really great with him so far. I’m happy. We’re very... happy.”

I give her another nod, genuinely happy for her.

“But there’snothingnew with you?” she asks again as she picks a bit of non-existent lint off her white tank top. “Because if there is, you can tell me. You can talk to me about anything. I hope you know that.”

I just stare.

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