Page 15 of Heartbeat Girl
What was the worst that could happen?
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“Last offer. Are you sure no one wants to take the bed?” I watched Liam twist the table over into a bed. He made a show of stretching, letting his shirt ride up slightly, never once looking my way. My gaze wandered down—
Nope!I snapped my head up to the back of his head and glared.
Liam ignored me. So they could overlook me when I finally didn’t want them to. Go figure.
Steve threw a pillow on the floor and pointed at Pete. “Lay down, trash.”
Liam smacked him across the face with another pillow. “Be quiet, mutt.”
“You’re all scum,” Pete said. “Except you, Jayne. You’re the perfection on this foul beast.”
“It’s the Machine of Death.” Steve tapped the bus wall, like some sort of love caress for his beloved machine. “There’s nothing foul about our girl. She’s witnessed death and mayhem.”
Death and mayhem? Oh, God. My brain hurt.
“You’re both idiots.” Liam said, as if he wasn’t as weird.
I stared down at my bare feet, black silky pajamas dragging on the ground, and shook my head. Why bother with them? It was clear they lived in their own world. I turned to go to the bedroom when Liam called out, “You’re going to bed already?”
“Chris will drive all night so you guys can perform in Florence tomorrow. Busy day. I feel like we should all sleep and be excited for a hotel tomorrow.” Chris was their driver who they introduced me to earlier.
“No can do, Jayne.” Steve ruined my dreams right there with his bullshit.
“Sorry, Jayne. We’re singing in a different city every night this week,” Pete said, crinkling his forehead. Sympathetic? With his upturned lips, it was probably more like delight. One could never tell with these guys.
“So we’ll be driving through the a.m.,” said Steve. “Tut-tut, Jayne. You should really get familiar with our dates.”
“What? Who performs that much in one week?” I muttered.
“We do. It won’t be this busy every week.” Liam sat at the booth instead of getting on the bed. He pulled out. “You’ll get your hotel room this Friday.”
“We sought this lifestyle because we wanted to be discovered. The more stops we make, the more people we reach,” Steve said excitedly.
“It’s different, right? Our live performances compared to our album.”
I considered Liam’s words. His question was simple, and yes, seeing them live was an entirely unique experience. Their recorded songs were mesmerizing, but it was something altogether different watching Liam in the flesh singing those creepy lyrics. But I wouldn’t tell him that, so I remained quiet until he spoke again.
“It’s addictive to be heard, knowing your voice is scattered all across the world—on phones, radios, computers. But to be heard, you need to be seen as well. To know that we were here, we have to leave a mark.” Liam glanced out the dark window. “So, when we are no more,someoneknew we were here. The more people that carry us in a memory, the stronger our presence will become.”
Pete and Steve nodded, their lips in a straight line. Something about their grim postures bothered me. What silent conversations did they exchange through their gazes?
“That will never be stolen from us,” said Liam.
So eerie. I started rubbing the goosebumps on my arms. Why were singers so obsessively sad? Ruth was a gloomy person, but her love for music had always been insatiable.Wait, that wasn’t true.One of her passions had been performing, too. Same thing with The Oppressors. They were immersed in their world completely—performing and mapping the world with their music.
I rubbed my temples and sighed. “I’ll never understand artists.”
But maybe one day I would if I ever stopped feeling like I was always missing part of a story.
There was always,alwayssomethingleft unspoken.
And I had all summer to find out.
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