Page 19 of A Tragic Melody

“Hi.”

“You didn’t text me.”

“Oops.” Tuesday shrugs. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Well, you’ve barely said anything to me today.”

“And?” She stares at him questioningly. “I’m not your girlfriend, Derrick. We hooked up. That happens on tour. No big deal.”

“Are you fucking someone else?” he snaps.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Seriously?” He seems surprised, not that he should be. It’s no secret she has slept with a lot of people she toured with. It’s not like he hasn’t, either. “Two shows and you’re done?”

“I’m not done.” She shrugs. “I’m just not interested right now.”

“You are such a fucking bitch.”

“And you are a lead singer of a band. You’ll find some other girl to stick your cock in until I decide I want it again,” she snaps back. She doesn’t wait for him to reply, simply throws her hair over her shoulder and walks away.

I want to laugh. The look on Derrick’s face is utterly hilarious. Not sure why he would expect more from a girl like Tuesday, or why a guy like him would even want more. He could have any girl he wanted, why get caught up in that mess?

I don’t laugh, though. I shouldn’t care what goes on between them, though the more information I can gather, the better.

I’m sure pointing out a mistake she made wasn’t the best move. More than likely, she will find some way to get back at me.

She played it off like it was no big deal, but a part of me hopes that wasn’t an act. If it really doesn’t bug her, then I can do even more damage. If she doesn’t care about making a mistake on stage, then she doesn’t deserve to be on one.

She avoids me, doesn’t even look my way the whole day. Yet when I walk off stage, she is there, staring at me. Her face is blank, but her eyes look somber. Maybe my words did get to her, or she is trying to play me. Either way, I don’t stick around to ask.

I grab my stuff from the dressing room and head to the bus. Distance is better for us. Playing aloof is the best move I can make. Forcing her to approach me.

I’m not going to say I don’t feel bad for the things I’ve said to her or my plan. It’s not like I want to hurt her. I’m only playing the game because I know she will destroy me first if I let her. If there was a way for us to both get to the top, I wouldn’t be out to get her. Sadly, there is only room for one of us to come out of this tour on top. That has to be me.

Maybe this will force her to get her shit together. Be the nudge she needs to get sober.

By the sixth show in Ohio, everyone is starting to feel the ache. The drinking and partying has died down a little as everyone settles into routine. The exhaustion from playing shows and spending time cramped on a bus sets in, too. It’s not easy to manage.

I’ve been barely keeping myself together. Every second trapped on the bus feels like being in a cage. I take to my bunk most of the time, avoiding the guys who drink and smoke pot all day to pass the time. I don’t need any more temptation.

My aching fingers and back are enough to urge me into the arms of alcohol and drugs. Knowing all I would have to do is ask Tuesday to get something to take the edge off is scary information to have. Of course, I’m not stupid. If I ask her, she will sell me out so fast I wouldn’t even get the chance to come down first.

I’m exhausted. It’s hard to fall asleep on a moving bus sober. I understand why drug abuse runs wild in this scene. This life isn’t for the weak. Still, I enjoy every second I get to stand on the stage and play for a crowd. Our fanbase has been growing, and there is a great deal of buzz around us. It’s the only reason I haven’t given into the urge to drink or get high yet.

Still, today, I am grumpy. Everyone in my band knows it. They keep their distance after suggesting I get laid to ease the tension in my body. I shot that idea down rather harshly, so now they’ve given up on trying to lift my spirits.

I’m sitting on the stage of the next venue. It’s early, so the crew hasn’t even started unloading the equipment yet. I brought my guitar from the bus, letting my fingers strum it despite the pain. Playing guitar is the only form of sanity I have right now.

“New song?” Tuesday’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Maybe.” I shrug. This is the first time she has talked to me in days.

“I’m sorry.” She sits down in front of me. “I think I came across a little bitchy in the beginning. Can’t blame a girl for feeling hurt when the only other talent in the business denies her for some shitty band.” Her smile is small, sad. “I was hurt, but you didn’t deserve all that.” Her eyes drop to the space between us.