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We finally make it around to the back entrance, fans lining the rails, set up to allow access in and out of the door.
“Hurry inside, you go on twenty,” Arun calls to us as we file out of the car. Reid and Hayden follow his orders, Reid doing so because he doesn’t want to interact with anyone, even if it’s fans who allow us the opportunity to have this career. Hayden because he still gets uneasy in crowds, especially ones like this where none of these people have likely gone through any kind of security since they’re outside the venue.
A shared glance between Nikolai and I have us hanging back, greeting as many fans as quickly as possible, taking a few pictures and signing whatever people shove our way. In my case, that means a woman's large chest, pushed up by a red lacy bra.
I shoot her a wicked smile, careful not to touch her with anything besides the marker she hands me. “Will you be coming back out this way after the show?” she asks, her tone sultry and I can practically see her picturing me naked in her head as she eyes me.
“Probably not,” I answer, handing her back the marker and moving on to the next few fans lined up. I don’t want to ever be rude, but the usual overt flirtation hasn’t been doing its thing for me lately.
I take a few more pictures, shake a few more hands, before grabbing Nikolai and thanking everyone for coming out before we dip inside.
No bass booms through the backstage area, so Scar’s set must’ve been already wrapped up. I check the time on my phone and see we only have a few minutes to spare before we go on. Before I can look for Scar to see how her performance went, I’m pulled into our usual band-only pre-show huddle. But my mind wanders and I can’t help but scan backstage for any sign of Scar.
She must be changing or grabbing some water. My excitement grows and builds until I can hardly stand still, so much pent-up energy for not playing a show in a couple days and ready to show Scar what I’m truly like in my element.
Our intro track begins to play and the crowd screams with excitement matching my own. We break out of our huddle and I jump up and down in place, shaking my wrists out and thank the stagehand who hands over my drumsticks.
I take one more look around backstage for Scar before walking out as the screams intensify. I climb up the few steps to the slightly elevated platform that my kit sits on, take my spot on the small round cushioned stool, and take a moment to look around as my heartbeat speeds up with anticipation.
Reid settles his guitar around his neck to my left, Hayden doing the same with his bass to my right. Nikolai stands in the middle, grabbing the microphone off the stand and the three of them watch me, waiting for me to count us in.
Half of my mind is still preoccupied with where Scar is, but the other half is in performance mode. So with that, I take a deep breath in, give the drumstick in my right hand a few twirls, before kicking the bass drum and yelling out a four count to kick off the show.
The bass rattles my chest, feeling it deep down into my bones and letting the energy fuel my movements. I fall into my rhythm, letting the muscle memory of these songs take over, adding flair here and there, showing off with hope of a pair of dark brown eyes watching me from the wings.
But they never do.
With each song and each glance to the side, my heart sinks deeper and deeper, and I pound out my frustration and disappointment harder and harder, as time passes and the wings remain empty.
Scar never makes an appearance.
17
SCAR
The flight to Dallas the next morning is quiet. We’re on the first flight out in the morning and everyone seems to be in a bit of a zombie-like trance, trudging slowly through the airport. When I woke up this morning, my body felt like I had been hit by a train, my muscles sore from the tension they held after the phone call from my sister last night.
Maybe Beth will forget to follow up, or maybe they’ll have a chance to baptize Ruth sooner and they won’t want to wait for a few months yet. Or maybe Vik will add something to my schedule to keep me from attending.
There’s a dull pounding behind my eyes and I keep my sunglasses firmly planted on the bridge of my nose to block everything out.
But the one thing I haven’t been able to block out is the way Walker has been acting this morning. I didn’t see him down in the lobby before leaving for the airport, and we took a few cars so I was in one with Boone and Naomi. Even when we got to the airport, I didn’t catch sight of him until we got through TSA. I tried to make eye contact, but he refused to look in my direction, or anyone’s direction really.
He has on a large dark blue sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled over his hair, headphones in both ears, and radiating “don’t fuck with me” energy, so at odds with his usual demeanor.
I wanted to try to talk to him before we boarded the flight to let him know I was sorry that I missed watching him last night, but after seeing him, I thought it was best if I gave him a little space.
Maybe he’s hungover, or still just tired from a late night and early morning. But when we landed and were ushered into the SUVs waiting to pick us all up, he still avoided any contact with me whatsoever.
Even now on the bus, I’m up at the front making a snack plate and he’s holed himself up in the back lounge since we stepped onboard.
We have a few days off here in Texas, meaning we all get to have some decent rest and enjoy sleeping in a hotel again. However, when we arrived, there was an issue with our room blocks. So while Arun and Vik have been dealing with that, everyone else has just been hanging around in the back parking of the arena for our show later this week.
Licking the pickle juice off my fingers, I screw the lid back on the jar with my name in big, bold letters across it, and stick it back into the small fridge. I set up my laptop to get some work done on the song Boone and I were producing in the studio a few days ago, but instead grab the plate in one hand, sparkling water in the other, and head to the back of the bus to see what Walker’s up to.
Is this what I’ve come to now? Me being the one to seek out his company?
I nudge the door open with my boot, the smell of various colognes hitting me like a wall, hanging heavy in my nose.
