Page 77

I shrug, but all I can think about is how gentle she is, how I never feel any judgement when she talks. She’s open, without secrets or ulterior motives. That makes me protective. Clearly, other than the mess with her parents, she hasn’t been hurt. At least not in the ways I have. In my career, I’ve been screwed over by friends, had money stolen, opportunities taken in favor of someone bigger or better connected. Hell, my most serious relationship resulted in my girlfriend cheating on me with a bigger producer. And I didn’t even blink when I found out. I think I was expecting it.

She had a career. I did too, but it clearly wasn’t good enough.

I swallow, gazing out over the endless highway.

I’m too young to be this jaded. It’s not healthy. My brain is all fucked up from being on guard all the time.

“You okay?” Her hand is on my thigh now.

“Yeah,” I say, pushing down my brief moment of self-pity.

“Hmm, what about we go see a movie?” she says.

“In a theater?”

“Yeah. When was the last time you did that?”

I think on it. “Honestly, I don’t remember.”

“I’ll bet we can figure out a place with a theater. Ooh, maybe like a drive-in, where we can sit in the truck.”

My head goes right into the gutter, thinking about making her spread her thighs so I can focus on my attention somewhere else while she pretends to watch a movie.

“Let’s see if we can find something when we stop for lunch,” I say.

“Perfect.”

The highway is fresh out of Ma and Pop places, so we end up having to stop at a McDonalds, which I don’t mind. This was one of the few places my mother and I went out to as kids, because the burgers were so cheap back then. We dip into the air conditioning, the scent of fried food hitting my nose. This is a different kind of being on the road. When I travel on the tour bus, we rarely have time to stop for lunch. Jamie usually brings a bunch of sandwich materials, and we supplement those with gas station food.

Maybe we could do with being a little less utilitarian. We started that early on to cut costs and just never stopped.

What was the point? For the band to sit around a table, exhausted and greasy from being on the road? We already see each other twelve hours a day.

I touch her lower back, standing behind her like we’re a couple.

Deep inside, I already think we are. I know that’s a problem I’ll have to address later, but right now, I want to feel like a normal person.

“What do you want, baby?” I say.

“I’ll do a double quarter pounder, a large fry, a diet coke, and a small ice cream cone,” she says decisively.

“Alright,” I say. “I think I’ll do the same.”

We order and find our seats. She pulls up her phone and starts searching.

“Whenever we would go into the city, Dad would take us here,” she says. “I used to think it was so special.”

“Huh. My mom did the same thing.”

“There you go,” she says, smiling. “One thing we have in common.”

“Fast food?”

She cocks her head. “What’s wrong with fast food? I love it.”

“Nothing. I can’t eat it the way I used to, not now that I’m thirty-six. I wake up with a headache sometimes after.”

She glances up, swiping her phone. “Does it bother you?”