Page 40 of Follow the Rhythm
“Isn’t it so fancy?” she said as we stepped inside.
The interior looked more like a small luxury apartment than a tour bus. Black leather couches, interspersed with tables, lined both walls, and the floors were gray hardwood. It was illuminated by rows of warm can lights and had a kitchenette with a sink, microwave, and a toaster oven. Two large screens were mounted above the blackout curtains covering long windows on both sides. It was also frigidly cold thanks to the AC unit humming above our heads.
“Damn,” I said appreciatively. It was way nicer than I expected.
“This way to your room, madam.” Grace walked through the door at the far end of the space. We entered a smaller area with four bunks, two stacked on each side of the hallway. Each bunk had a small light with a switch, a little cubby, and a privacy curtain.
“They’re called coffins in the biz. Kieran told me. I’ve never had a bus this nice. On the Valkyries’ first tour, we slept in my car,” she said, looking at me with wide eyes. “You can take this one; Kieran already claimed the other bottom bunk.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Climbing up and down from the top bunk would’ve been difficult for my stupid, tiny legs.
“And last but not least, the fanciest part.”
Grace opened the door at the other end of the hallway, and we entered a full-on bedroom with a queen-sized bed.
“Let me guess. This is Ellis’s room.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. The bed folds up into a couch so we can use this space for rehearsal if we need to, but Bea insisted on having a nicer bed.”
My stomach sank. “She’s coming?”
Grace nodded, grimacing. “Thank god you’ll be here for backup.”
I looked around as we exited the bus. No matter how luxurious the interior was, there was no denying that it would be close quarters. I would just need to keep as much distance as possible from Kieran and Ellis for my own sanity. Kieran because I didn’t trust myself not to perfume if he said anything about respecting women, and Ellis because even if he was an insufferable dick, there was still a part of me that wanted his attention. But I was sure Grace would be an effective shield.
I escaped back to the booth to avoid seeing them or Charlie before the show and ate dinner with Eddie, the lighting director, and Josh, the video director instead. They were both friendly Betas with wives and children, and vouched for by Charlie, so I didn’t have to worry about either of them being feral assholes.
“Here we go,” Eddie said as the showtime approached. There was no opening act, and the crowd was bristling with impatience around us. He dimmed the house lights, and the audience cheered in anticipation.
Ellis’s voice rose in the darkness, high and haunting, for the intro to “Idle Animal,” and tingles raced from my scalp down to my arms. A spotlight flared to life, the hard light throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief. He looked ethereal, untouchable. But then the guitar riff kicked in, the rest of the stage lights came up, and he was growling into the microphone - visceral and immediate.
The crowd roared along with him. When Ellis was onstage, I could forget our history. He was electric, and I was in the palm of his hand as much as the rest of the audience.
After a few songs, the crew rolled out the tree prop, and Josh cued up the video of my illustrations on the huge screen as “Poison Petal” played. I couldn’t help it; I cried. It was impossible to hear the songs fromInto the Gardenwithout thinking of my first few weeks in the Omega Center, when I didn’t want to be anywhere. I’d drawn the first of my wild women in those days, listening to the album, and wishing I could disappear into the music.
I wiped my tears away and watched Grace instead. She was beaming from ear to ear, and my heart contracted with the happy-sadness that I felt when I looked at Austin. It was the feeling of loving someone even though you were sure you’d lose them, like I’d lost everyone else. She had become a true friend. I didn’t deserve her or her sibling, but I’d hold on to them as long as I could.
I focused on Kieran. His hair was pulled into a bun at the crown of his head, but a few tendrils had escaped at the nape of his neck. His forearms and biceps flexed as he played, his brow furrowed in concentration on the complicated riffs. As I watched him, he looked out to the booth and, even though I knew it was impossible, I felt like he was looking right at me.
After the encores, I made my way backstage with Eddie and Josh to find Grace. She was alone in the greenroom.
“You were amazing,” I said as soon as I saw her. “You should be proud.”
Her hair was wet from a shower, and it dripped onto my shirt when she hugged me tightly. “Oh my god, you’re gonna make me cry.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I said sternly, but I squeezed her back.
“Do you want to shower before we get on the bus? Ellis and Kieran are doing a VIP meet and greet somewhere, and I’m sure they’ll want to before we leave.”
“No, I’m good.” I didn’t want to wash off the little bit of descenter I had left on my skin. I hadn’t had a chance to reapply all day.
I watched her pack up her stuff, talking through the show, until Johnny, the Velvet Howl manager, came in. It’d been so long since I’d seen him it took me a moment to place him.
“Ah, Gracie. Great show, my girl,” he said, coming over to shake her hand. “Sorry, you’re not invited to the meet and greets, but you know…” He shrugged with faux sympathy.
“Thanks, Johnny, I’m well aware I’m temporary.”
“Hello, who’s this, then?” he asked, noticing me. “A groupie?”
