Page 5 of Love Notes and Late Nights
“Yeah,” Wolf mumbled. “Go. I’m tired.”
“Do you want me to help you get in bed?”
Wolf smiled, but his eyes remained closed, and he didn’t reply.
“I’m serious.”
“M’fine. Go.”
Harris quietly picked up his wallet and keys from the end table, which he’d obviously removed at some time during the night, put on his tennis shoes, and headed toward the door. On the way, he accidentally bumped into a dining room chair, and a notebook fell from the table. He realized it wasn’t a notebook when he picked it up. It was a sketch pad. He didn’t intend to be nosey, but the drawings were amazing, and he flipped through a couple of pages. They were random and unrelated—a bird in a tree; an arena full of people, drawn from the view on stage looking into the audience; a sunset. He got the feeling that this was private, and he felt bad for looking at it, even if it was by accident, so he put it back on the table and headed for the front door.
As he reached for the doorknob, he wondered if Wolf might not remember their conversation, since the guy never opened his eyes and sounded groggy. He contemplated sending a text message, but Wolf might not see it right away, so he returned to the dining room, ripped out an empty page from the back of the sketchpad, and scribbled a few words. He left the note on the coffee table so Wolf would see it when he woke up.
Wolf stretched languidly, but an ache in his shoulder quickly stifled the relaxing motion and he cringed. Sitting up with one hand cupping his aching shoulder, he remembered that Harris had not only helped him after one of his night terrors but also stayed with him until the morning. Relief mixed with trepidation washed over Wolf, causing him to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
No one besides Ethan had witnessed him in such a vulnerable state, and it was humiliating. Anger quickly washed over him. When are these fucking nightmares going to stop? Was he gonna be plagued by them for the rest of his fucking life?
He stood up and rotated his shoulder to work out the kink, then stretched toward the ceiling, going up on his tippy toes. As he exhaled a long breath and relaxed, he noticed a piece of white paper folded in half on the coffee table with his name on it.
He picked it up and read it: “Wolf – I had to run to an appointment. Tried to wake you but you were out of it. Hope you’re OK. Call me when you get up. We can have breakfast or lunch. Harris.”
A smile spread across Wolf’s face, and a warm feeling filled his chest. Harris was a great friend and always there when he needed to talk, especially during those hard few months when Ethan first met Tyler. Harris helped him realize that what he and Ethan had was long over and one-sided.
“I was such an idiot. So fucking stupid,” Wolf said aloud, regretting his past decisions and some of the things he’d said to Tyler in the beginning. Mostly, he regretted wasting so many years waiting for Ethan to fall in love with him without everhaving the courage to tell the guy how he felt. But there was no use re-hashing the past. He’d moved on and was moving forward with his life, happier and more content than he’d been in a long time.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m glad everyone’s on time for once,” Paul Landry, the band’s longtime manager, addressed the members of Wolf Pack seated before him.
“Of course I’m on time,” Ethan chided. “It’s my house.”
Wolf snickered under his hand while Paul rolled his eyes.
“I was referring to everyone else,” Paul clarified, making direct eye contact with Wolf, Marshall, and Harris. He leaned on the edge of the large desk in Ethan’s office, because Ethan sat behind the desk as if he were the chairman of this meeting. Wolf sat in one of the big comfy chairs next to Marshall, while Harris stood against the wall tapping out a beat on the top of the bookcase with his hands.
“I’ll get right to it,” Paul said, bringing his tablet up to eye level. “Tour dates have been finalized. I wanted to go over the schedule in person so no one can say, ‘I didn’t know’ or ‘I must have missed it when I read the itinerary.’” Paul used a whiny voice, clearly mimicking someone but Wolf wasn’t sure who. It could have been any one of them.
Paul continued with a bunch of commitments while on tour like radio spots and performances on local late-night and early-morning TV shows. It was the same-old, same-old and none of it interested Wolf. They’d been touring for too many years not to know what to expect. The tour dates were pretty much the same as well, so he basically tuned out until he heard Rocktoberfest.
“We’re doing Rocktoberfest again this year?”
“Yes. Thursday to Sunday. Black Rock City. Wolf Pack’s timeslot is Saturday at six. Other than soundcheck and a few short interviews, you’ll have the rest of the time to yourselves.”
“Awesome. We had a great time last year,” Ethan stated, while Harris and Marshall expressed their approval with smiles and nods of the head.
“Let’s try to have no drama this year,” Paul warned, glaring at Wolf.
“I didn’t do anything,” Wolf replied, hand on his chest, and it was the truth, but a laugh left his mouth before he was able to suppress it as he remembered some of the antics at last year’s Rocktoberfest.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked.
“Do you need to be reminded of the egging and glitter bomb incidents?”
Marshall and Harris both started laughing loudly.
“OK. That’s enough,” Paul raised a hand to quiet everyone. I still have a million things to do, so if you don’t have any questions—”
“Can we get a bigger tour bus?” Ethan interrupted.
