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“Fine with me.” I sat in one of the chairs, but my attitude melted when I felt how comfortable it was. Jesus, this was a nice bus. When could I move in? “It’s only a two-hour trip. What do you guys do on a real tour?”
“We have a system,” Axel explained. “It’s complicated, but it works. When you’re ready, we’ll explain.”
“There’s a bathroom system?” I asked.
Denver answered me. “Of course there’s a bathroom system. We’ve been touring together since we were nineteen. It’s the only reason we haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Though it’s been close,” Stone grumbled.
“We’ve never toured with a woman before,” Denver said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to make some exceptions to the rules for periods and stuff. We’ll work that out later.”
I frowned at him as the bus pulled out onto the highway. I was less concerned about Denver discussing my periods than I was about his assumption that I would be doing longer trips with them on this bus. As far as I knew, there was no tour in the works—or if there was, it was planned for after Neal was back, when I would already be gone.
“We told you when we hired you that we tour sober,” Axel said. “You agreed. I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“It isn’t a problem,” I replied. Axel was a recovered addict, and if the rest of us were getting drunk or high on tour, he’d risk becoming addicted again. The band had been clear from the day of my audition about this rule, and it didn’t bother me. My days of getting drunk and fucked up were fading fast, anyway.
“If you want to party after the show, it has to be elsewhere,” Axel said. “Not backstage. We don’t stock anything backstage except water and sandwiches.”
“You don’t get a warning on that one,” Stone added. “Break the rules once, and you’re out.”
“I get it.” It was a bit like a teenage lecture, but I understood. Two of The Muffins were recovering addicts, and everyone who has a music career has lost at least one friend. I had no desire to see Axel go the same way. When he was deep in his addiction, he must have scared the shit out of the others.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, looking around at them. “By the time you finish telling me all these rules, we’ll be in Seattle.”
“There’s only one other rule on the bus,” Stone said. “Shut up as much as possible.”
“You first, Zeeland,” I said.
He smirked at me. I grinned back. Then I took my headphones from around my neck and put them on.
TWENTY-TWO
Finn
On the surface, my days were the same as they ever were. I worked on my music and I looked after my dog. But underneath, everything had changed.
I felt different. I was different. Juliet was back in Portland, working long hours. We had just been a hookup. A pleasant diversion. We hadn’t discussed the future, because we had no idea what it would look like. She wasn’t even my girlfriend.
And yet.
Juliet: How is Gary?
Juliet: I think we’ve nailed “Kickback.” Or at least I have. The bridge was tripping me up.
Juliet: Is it raining there?
Juliet: Seattle sold out. Both nights.
Juliet: My roommate asked me how I know you. I told her we met when you kicked me out of a party. I think I impressed her for the first time in my life.
These messages trickled in at random times—sometimes early, sometimes the middle of the night. I always answered them. Juliet and I existed in a liminal space, where we weren’t in the place we’d been and we weren’t in the place we were going. Knowing Juliet, she probably assumed we were going nowhere. But I wasn’t so sure.
I sketched out a rough song called “Liminal Space,” pondering that very thing. I congratulated her on the sold-out shows and told her I’d see her there. Then I called Travis.
He sounded better this time, as if the illness he’d had was clearing up. “Hey, man,” he said when he answered. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” I asked him, because I hadn’t subjected him to FaceTime this time.
