Page 29 of Love Notes and Late Nights
“What’s up, then? Why do you look pissed off?”
“Because.” That was all Harris could say, but he finally found his voice. “Don’t settle for that guy. He’s just looking to score because you’re a rock star. Do you want to be used like that?”
Wolf displayed a lopsided grin. “Maybe I was using him.”
“No, Wolf. Don’t belittle yourself. You deserve more respect than that. You deserve . . . you deserve . . .”
“Harris, what the hell is wrong with you? Say whatever you’re trying to say.”
He couldn’t say it. He wanted to. But he couldn’t. “I don’t know!” Harris’ hands flew in the air like a madman. “Don’t fuck around with some random dude you just met!”
Wolf’s face scrunched up as if he couldn’t have possibly heard right. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why not?”
“Because! You deserve better!” With that, Harris bolted out of the private room, forgetting that he didn’t have a bodyguard with him. Fans surrounded him, all reaching out to touch him or talk to him, but he pushed through them. Club security caught up to him, along with two bodyguards, before he reached the door.
“Do you need a car, Mr. Young?” one of the bodyguards asked.
“Yeah.” He answered without thinking or knowing where he was headed. He ended up at the tour bus, which wasn’t scheduled to leave for a couple of hours, and went straight to the liquor cabinet. They weren’t heavy drinkers, preferring beer over the hard stuff, but the bus was always stocked. He grabbed the first bottle he saw—Johnny Walker Blue—and took a long swig from the bottle. He choked and almost coughed it back up.
He filled a glass with ice and took the bottle back to his bunk and shut the curtain where he proceeded to berate himself for the stupid conversation he had with Wolf. It made no sense, and he sounded like a complete asshole. Maybe he should have blurted out, “Because I love you!” No way. That would’ve been worse. When the time came to tell Wolf the truth, it needed to be in private not in a crowded club.
He chugged the glass full of Johnny Walker, which was significantly smoother over ice. The second glass went down just as fast, but hit him hard, and by the third glass, he passed out.
***
Motion on the bus woke Harris, and he realized they were moving. He had no idea what time it was, and his head swam from the way the bus bounced on the road, aided by the Johnny Walker that still had an effect on him. He stumbled out of his bunk and into the bathroom, where he promptly threw up. It sobered him, as did the half gallon of ice water he drank in the kitchen area. Sitting in the dining booth, he stared at the row of bunks ahead. All of the curtains were closed, but he heard movement, so at least some of the guys were still awake.
Marshall slid into the seat across from Harris a few minutes later. “Was that you puking?”
“Yeah.” Harris ran his hand over his face. “Rough night. I’m better now. What time is it?”
“About two. We just left the club.”
“That’s it? I thought we’d be halfway to Portland by now.”
Marshall stretched in his seat and rubbed his lower back with one hand. “These bunks suck. I thought we’d get a better upgrade.”
The bunks were bigger, with thicker mattresses, but they were still bunks on a tour bus. At least they had a little more privacy and better soundproofing. Plus, they got a nice big refrigerator and a cool giant flatscreen.
The bus came to a stop, and Harris looked out the side window at the huge Chevron sign. “We’re gassing up already?”
A loud screech broke through the silence as the curtain to one of the bunks was thrown open. A dude stomped down the corridor zipping up his jeans with one hand while carrying his tennis shoes in the other. His button-down shirt was completely open showing off his bare chest.
The guy gave Harris a nod as he hurried past and exited the bus. Harris recognized him right away, and he almost fell out of the booth. It was the guy Wolf had been making out with at theclub. “Did that guy just leave Wolf’s bunk?” he asked Marshall, sounding more frantic than expected.
“He sure as shit didn’t leave mine.”
Harris raced to Wolf’s bunk and stood there staring at the closed curtain as he tried to figure out what he planned on saying. He had no idea, but something needed to be said, so he’d have to figure it out on the fly, and he yanked the curtain open.
Wolf, who was lying in bed with his arms folded, wearing ear buds, jumped at the sudden intrusion. His hand went to his chest, and he exhaled a deep breath. “You almost gave me a fucking heart attack.” He tugged on one of the ear buds. “What’s up?”
Harris had no excuse for barging into Wolf’s sleeping area. He had no right to judge Wolf or tell him who he could or should sleep with. But Harris couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. Not this time. “Can I sit down for a minute?”
Wolf sat up with his back against the side wall and folded his legs underneath him, inviting Harris to take a seat on the other side of the bed.
As Harris sat down, he thought about where to begin and ended up blurting out, “Why’d you bring that guy back here?”
“Is that a joke? You know exactly why I brought that guy back here.”
