Page 5 of The Comedown

It’s too thick to be blood.

I think.

I sniff a piece just in case, recognizing the familiar strawberry scent instantly, then stick the chunk in my mouth, swallowing it whole.

But wait, how did it get on my stomach? Did I American Pie my Jell-O? I do love Jell-O.

I tug the waist of my boxers off my abdomen, taking stock down below.

Clear.

No clue how it got on my stomach. I don’t even remember…

Sticking my fingers in my hairline, I push my palms into my eyes and shake my head at myself. When do I ever fucking remember?

I swing my legs off the side of the bed, already over the lack of noise, except my feet don’t touch the floor. They land on a person.

I squint through the dark.

Two people.

A quick glance around the room reveals even more lumps that are most likely bodies, too. Groans go off like landmines on a battlefield as I push my way through what’s supposed to be my private bedroom. My bus comes with one private room in the back with twelve bunks in the hall leading up to it. Bunks that are fucking packed when I pass by, heading to the bathroom.

That’s fucking taken too though, and I eye the windows, wondering if my aim is good enough to try it. We’re already on the road or else I’d use the other bus. Even though it’s a smaller bus, it’s got a similar layout to mine. I figured someone as big time as Collette wouldn’t accept anything less than her own room, so I made sure hers had one, too.

Whatever. No sweat off my sac. It’s not like I was expecting a little thing called gratitude or, I don’t know, an introduction. This is my fucking tour and I hand-picked her to join me on it. My label wanted someone more…viral, some brand-new influencer looking to test their musical “skills” by piggybacking off an actual artist, but I wasn’t having it. The number of likes you get holds more weight than the amount of hours of hard work you put in anymore, and since I seem to be the only motherfucker who doesn’t live and breathe social media, I went for real talent, choosing to tour with Collette instead. Even though she’s been on my collab bucket list for-fucking-ever, I never expected my label to go for it. They gotta be close to pulling the plug on this whole thing any fucking day now, but somehow, some way, they delivered. They got me Collette, and once the tour was a done deal, we jumped right into working on a track together.

It wasn’t enough to satisfy me though. Not like I thought it would. Not like I hoped it would. Probably because we didn’t even meet then either.

Why haven’t we met yet?

“Ayo,” I call up to the driver, blanking on his name. “Pull over.”

If one bus stops, the other has to stop, too. It’s one of like seven rules for tour life. Number one being no shitting on the bus. Obviously.

“Sir? It’s close to midnight. It’s not safe.”

Muttering under my breath, I rip a couple bunk curtains back, finally finding my bodyguard on the third occupied bed, and jab him until he grunts, rolling over to peer sleepy-eyed at me.

“Safety,” I say, jerking a thumb over my shoulder at Bare as he drags himself out of the bunk he was just snoozin’ in. “Now pull over. I gotta take a leak.”

After a brief hesitation, the driver does what he’s told, calling over the radio to the other bus to do the same.

Fuck yeah. I’m ’bout to meet Collette. Finally.

I look down, gathering the rest of the Jell-O on me before flinging it into the kitchen sink.

“Boss man, I can empty the bathroom for you. Just say the word.”

The moans and banging coming from inside the bathroom kick up a notch, and I grin, shaking my head at my bodyguard.

“It won’t take long.” I just want to…make sure Collette’s bus is in order. Fluffed pillows, fresh towels. Hospitality shit. I’m nothing if not an accommodating host. Ask the motherfuckers currently sleeping in my bed. In it, around it, probably even under it, too.

Fuck. Not even a full day in and I’m already suffocating.

I need fresh air.

The second we’re stopped on the side of the highway, Bare trails me outside so we both can piss, then I tell him to stay put, heading straight for the bus behind mine.