Page 34 of Still Her
“I don’t give a shit where it came from. It’s you,” he whispers, still being careful of his vocal cords.
I can’t argue with him. Jack knows me, all the way through. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like how protective he is of me, like he’s my knight. Even when he takes it a little into caveman territory I still like it. There’s just a bigger picture here, and I hope he’s starting to see it.
We cuddle under the warm covers and we feel the bus rumble to life. As we pull out onto the road for the next city, the gentle rocking persuades me to drift back off for a while.
* * *
I don’t sleep for very long, less than an hour, but the extra bit of rest gave me a little boost. I glance over to see that Jack did indeed go back to sleep too, which is reassuring. He’s lost his voice a time or two on tours before so we know the drill for taking care of it. The good thing is that the next show isn’t until tomorrow. I roll on my back to stretch out and…OWW. Oh, my muscles are sore from my little dance tantrum yesterday.Worth it. I feel significantly lighter. I stand and peak out of the side of the blinds to find that the early morning weather is bleak, rain slashing at the window.
Since the bus is in motion I can’t shower, so once I’m clad in yoga pants and one of Jack’s hoodies, I stagger my sore ass out to the lounge area of the bus to find not only Matt, but Josh and Chris too.
“Hey,” I say to everyone as the Keurig’s tractor beam pulls me in. They greet me back, looking as worn out and rumpled as I feel. “Did you guys sleep here last night?” I ask, wondering why they aren’t on their own bus. Well, I ask Josh, as Chris is unconscious on the couch that lines the window. And sweet lord, what is on his face?
“Yeah, we wanted to work on the song today, so we thought it would be easier to sleep here rather than waking up at the ass crack of dawn before we got on the road.” Josh answers me. I see a writing pad out, and their respective guitars are resting nearby.
I nod, taking a sip of coffee. “Get anywhere with it? And what the hell did you do to Chris’s face?”
“Relax. I didn’t use a Sharpie, its Magic Marker. He doesn’t need to know that though, right?” Josh sits back in his lounge chair and gives me a lazy grin.
“How did you happen to have one of those?”
“I bought some a while back. That dude sleeps so hardcore it’d be just plain wrong not to mess with him on occasion, and it’s even more fun to let him think it’s permanent.” He holds his hands out and shrugs.
“Well, kudos for not doing it on the day of a show. I can only imagine him trying to look serious behind his drum set with kitty-whiskers drawn on his face.”
“Hey!” Josh raises his voice indignantly, “don’t miss the masturbating alien on his forehead.”
I take a closer look at Chris and shake my head. The details on his forehead are disturbingly intricate. Matt starts shaking with laughter. These guys are absolute kids on the road, Jack included.
“What about the song?” I ask, shuffling over to the table to open my laptop.
“Haven’t started yet,” Matt answers me “waiting on Jack.”
“Oh. Well FYI, your lead singer has lost his voice, so you guys will have to be the guinea pigs if you want to test out any new lyrics.” I plop down and start looking for where I left off on my next blog post.
“Shit.” Matt lowers his head before looking back up at Josh. “All you, Timberlake.”
“Idonotsound like him!” Josh defends.
“Can’t stop the feeliiing!”Matt taunts, singing obnoxiously high pitched, making Josh smack his shoulder. Chris snorts at the ruckus and turns over on the couch. They continue their antics, having zero clue that they are giving me great material for this week’s entry.
Jack moseys out about half an hour later, looking like sex on a stick in his worn jeans and a black Henley. He leans over to kiss me and I catch a hint of lemon from the lozenge in his mouth. He makes a cup of coffee that he can’t drink until it cools, and sits down with the guys while I continue to write.
After spending an hour where they got a feeble amount accomplished due to Jack not being able to talk too loudly, and Chris not contributing at all because he’s still passed out, they decide to call it and pack their guitars away. I’ve long since shut my laptop and have been reading a book when Jack leans over and whispers that he’s got something to show me before leading me back to the bedroom.
I walk in to find a perfectly made bed. I press my lips together in a knowing smile and look to Jack who has a cocky smile on his face. He puts his arms around me, pulling me close. He places tender kisses on my cheek, my nose, my forehead. “We don’t have to,” he whispers. “I just wanted to…” he trails off, but I know what he’s trying to tell me. Come to think of it, we never did properly make up…
17
Mayzie
That evening,we arrive in Richmond after a long-ass haul on the highway; definitely one of our longer stretches on the road. The silver lining is that it’s a rest night with no show, and we get to sleep in a hotel. The weather is still damp and chilly outside, I haven’t showered since yesterday, and I’m still sore. In other words, the jetted bathtub in our suite is screaming my name. Even though Jack is still out of commission, he and the guys decide to take another stab at a writing session in Matt’s room.
When I get out of the tub a while later, I feel realxed and my muscles are less angry. I wash off in the shower after, and secure a huge fluffy towel around myself. I’m just reaching for another one as my phone rings in the main room. I leisurely walk through the suite, toweling off my hair as I go. I hear the tell-tale beep of a card key opening the front door and Jack walks through, carrying his guitar case. I give him a smile as I reach for my ringing phone. He smiles and winks before I look down at the screen.
“I don’t know this number,” I frown down at it. I set it back down and let it go to voicemail as I continue to towel off my hair and ask Jack how the writing went. I’m happy to hear that they made a little progress this time, when my phone beeps with a voicemail notification. I punch in my code and let it play on speaker so that I can search through my bag for something comfy to put on. While I’m warm from my soak, the inside of my chest turns to ice at the sound of the voice coming from my phone. I stop with my hands still in my bag and look at Jack, whose dark blue eyes immediately shift to black.
“Smart girl, not answering numbers you don’t recognize. But I assure you Kitten, you know me. So I’m going to give you a chance to listen to this, and then we’ll try again. Talk to you in a minute.”