Page 4 of The Sounds of Her
I don’t get to sleep in the bed on the bus tonight. We used to rotate, now whoever’s girlfriend has joined us on this leg of the tour gets the bed.
It wasn’t unusual to bring groupies on the bus way back when. It doesn’t happen these days. If I want to get laid, I have to use hotels.
I picked up a chick after the Vancouver talk show, needing to lose myself in something besides booze. That has never been my poison anyway, I hate the out-of-control feeling that comes with getting drunk.
We talked at the bar, so it didn’t feel like I was fucking a total stranger, no matter how delusional that makes me. I got her off and chased my release, then she left. Stone, our bodyguard, made sure she safely got a cab. I care about shit like that.
A separate room on the bus holds our instruments and we use it to write or play while we move between cities. I’ve been working on a song for a few weeks now. I can’t get it out of my brain and it’s irritating the hell out of me.
I’m strumming mindlessly when the door opens behind me. I expect Adam or Nick, but it’s Jenna.
“Hey Arch.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Can’t sleep,” she says, sitting and folding her legs to the side on the seat. “Adam is sleeping, I was tossing and turning and didn’t want to wake him. What are you working on?”
“Trying to write a new song. Lately, I can’t get anything down on paper.”
“Like writer’s block?” she asks.
“I guess. What’s stopping you from sleeping?” I’d rather not talk about why I’m struggling writing.
“It’s always weird the first few nights on the bus,” she says.
“Imagine it’s a cradle. Might help.”
She huffs a little laugh, but still looks troubled. I like Jenna. At first, I thought she would cause problems for the band, and it took me a while to accept moving to New York so Adam could be near her. Being around my family again lessened the blow and I go back to my house in LA whenever I can.
Jenna is like a sister to us. Adam still gets pissed at Jordan when he calls her that. She’s funny, and smart, and can handle Adam. She’s the perfect woman for my best friend.
I consider myself good at reading people and it’s obvious there’s something wrong with Jenna. I set the guitar down.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She pauses for a moment, wringing her hands together. “What do you know about Zosia?”
My brows lift. Jenna isn’t the insecure type, she trusts Adam. He fucking loves her so much, it’s sickening. I don’t want to offer advice about her insecurities, she has her friends to deal with that. I don’t think she has anything to worry about.
“She’s nineteen, breaking out of the mould her label put her in. Everyone wants Ad to help them with their music.” I roll my eyes like that shit bothers me. “It’ll do her image good having him write her album for her, but that is all it is.”
I don’t think that helped.
“As much as it pains me to say, Adam is a gifted songwriter. Zosia is lucky to have him involved in her album. They focus on the music. You know what he’s like when he gets in the zone, you could walk in naked, and he wouldn’t notice.”
Jenna laughs. “You believe that?”
“No,” I groan. “Bad analogy. What brought this on?”
Jenna looks through the small window. “I saw an article.”
I don’t read that shit, and Adam warned Jenna not to. “Talk to him.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to talk to me?”
“The dickhead loves you more than this band. He’ll be fucking intolerable if you’re upset.” I grab her hand and pull her out of her seat. “Go to bed, Jenna.”
“Okay. Thanks Arch,” she kisses my cheek before leaving.