Page 5 of The Sounds of Her

I walk to the window. Our driver steers us along the I-5, and I watch as we pass by another town. Rain falls, slow at first, before it pelts the window. Typical weather in Washington, it always rains in Seattle.

Pulling out my phone, I sit down and open the text thread. I won’t scroll up because I’ll get pissed off. I don’t know why I haven’t deleted those messages. They fucking hurt, but like some kind of masochist, I’ve kept them.

Madison: There are some issues with the sound on Harder I Love. When you’re in LA, you need to come in and re-record.

Madison: Aidan’s vocals are perfect, as always. You need to work on guitar overlay.

Madison: They expect you in the studio on Sunday at 9

Madison: Grow up Archer. This is about work.

At the time she sent all this bullshit, we were recording a live interview, how the fuck was I supposed to respond? Besides, if she wants to arrange shit like this, she speaks to Bianca, who will check in with the tour manager to see if it’s possible.

Me grow up? Yeah right. I close the chat. I need to sleep.

Before I head to bed, I drop Phoenix a text. It’s early hours of the morning on the East coast. I don’t expect a reply, but one comes as I head to the kitchen area.

Phoenix: Yeah, a guy I know works out of Seattle. Can’t wait till you get back here, huh?

Archer: Need a fix and we’re on tour

Phoenix: I hear that. I’ll reach out. Do you need it tomorrow?

Archer: Yeah. We’re hitting the city in about a half hour

Phoenix: Chez likes his beauty sleep, so it’s likely to be late morning. I’ll text you the deets.

Archer: Appreciate that. Catch you when we’re back.

Phoenix: Happy trails

Now that I’ve got plans for tomorrow, I start to relax. With Elsa and Jenna on the bus, they’ll be doing couple shit in our free time. Jordan always has somewhere to be, he knows people all over the country.

Another text pops up from Phoenix with an address and time. Guess these people never sleep if this Chez guy has already got back to him.

I grab a glass of water and head to my bunk. The curtains are all closed, but one arm is hanging out of the bunk above mine. I lift my glass so one of his fingers rests in the cold water.

I stand there for a minute. He snuffles and pulls his hand back and snorts as he wakes. I duck under his bunk and pull my curtain across.

Jordan swears twice and tries to get comfortable again. He can’t because I’ve triggered a physiological response in him. He gets up and heads to the bathroom.

Works every time.

I get out of the cab and walk towards the shop. The area is sketchy as hell, the building looks half derelict, with blacked-out windows and a graffiti-covered wall. It’s part of the signage for the shop.

The place is different on the inside. The floor has black-and-white tiles, the walls painted black. They’ve covered the ceiling in dark wood, making it appear lower than it is. Large white frames are positioned all around that have images on canvases inside. Some of them are photographs, others are paintings of tattoos.

There is one stand out photograph of a statuesque red head. She’s naked apart from a pair of giant, leathery black wings, like a bat. She has one hand between her legs, but it’s not sexual. Her full breasts are on display, and she has a tattoo along one side of her body.

When I enter, three people turn to look at me. No gasps, no rush for photos or autographs, in fact, the guy behind the counter looks bored. He grunts with a head nod to a man standing by a coffee machine.

“Chez?”

“Yeah, hey. Come on over. I’d offer you one, but it’ll fuck shit up.”

I hold up my bottle of water. Caffeine thins your blood, not ideal when getting a tattoo.

“Phoenix said he’s working on your sleeve and I’m to leave that the hell alone.”