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"Pizza sounds good, pepperoni with banana peppers?" It's my favorite, and even though she always picks off the peppers, it's always what she orders.
We spend the rest of the night downing two bottles of red wine and binge-watching reruns of The Bachelor.
"You know, Jason Mesnick is still my favorite. Ben's hot and all, but there is just something about that sexy daddy," Alyssa says as we watch a rose ceremony filled with tears.
I scoff. "No way. He pulled the biggest dick move of all time. How can you propose to one woman, decide you picked the wrong one and dump her, then ask the girl you sent home out immediately after? That was a train wreck. Talk about not knowing what you want."
We have this argument every single time we watch this show. Alyssa always prefers seasons full of drama and unexpected endings.
"Oh, whatever. They ended up married with kids and are happier than ever. He made the right choice," she retorts, and I roll my eyes.
She has a point, but the guy will still go down in my book as a total jerk for what he did.
When the wine is gone, and our giggles have run their course, I know I need to get some sleep. There is still so much uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring, and the last thing I need is to be grumpy and exhausted trying to face it.
???
I knew that today would be full of surprises, but the first came when I realized that the whole tour bus thing was nothing like what I pictured. In my mind, it would be like the movies. You know, everyone crammed in a bus basically sitting on top of each other as we crossed state lines.
In reality, very few people actually rode on the bus. The guys did, of course. Along with a large man who I later found out was a bodyguard. Olivia traveled separately and met up with the band when they reached a hotel or venue. Occasionally the guys would have guests that traveled with them for a few days, but for the most part, it was just them.
Olivia informed me that I was going to be with her for most of the tour, so we could talk business in between stops. However, she thought that sticking it out with the band until the first stop would be good for us. To give me an opportunity to “bond” with them.
“When we finish up in Washington, you’ll hang with me for the rest of the tour. I won’t subject you to that zoo of a tour bus for any longer than necessary,” she’d explained, to my relief.
I was already nervous enough without having to worry about spending every single waking hour with them.
My suitcases were placed into a compartment below the bus with several other bags. Once everything was buttoned up, I finally made my way inside.
It was nicer than my apartment, though that wasn’t saying much. There was plenty of seating and even a small kitchen area equipped with a microwave and mini-fridge. I imagined it would be stocked with beer, and when I saw the assortment of liquor bottles lining one of the tables, it seemed my hunch was correct.
In the back, there was a room with a full-size bed, a bathroom, and in the hall, two sets of bunk beds. I knew being on the road for days at a time must be rough, so it was nice that they had places to sleep it off.
A quick survey of the situation raised a question in my mind, though.
Where the hell was I supposed to sleep?
It was a 42-hour drive to Washington from New York—if we drove straight through without stopping. Obviously, that was impossible. Olivia told me it would be more like two and a half days before we arrived. That meant I would be sleeping here, on a bus, with four rock stars and their very large bodyguard named Wayne.
“There she is!” Gareth exclaimed when he stepped onto the bus. “Are you ready for the ride of a lifetime?” He’s wearing a pair of light gray joggers that hang just right on his hips and an old concert T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
I think so.
“Of course,” I respond, pulling confidence from somewhere unknown.
The other three members of Chaotix file onto the bus, and when I see Ryan, my nerves go haywire. Seeing him after what I did the other night feels wrong in all the best ways. I’m surprised to see the lead singer in a pair of gym shorts, but somehow it still works for him.
“Hey, I wanted to thank you again for taking me home the other night,” I say when he is close enough to avoid the others from hearing. “That was kind of a mess, but I really appreciate you getting me home safely.”
He nods. “No problem.”
And with that, he lays down on one of the bunk beds.
Weird.
He was much more talkative the other night. I shrug off the awkward encounter and take a seat on the large sofa.
Ant offers me a beer. “It’s eight in the morning,” I reply, hoping that he’s kidding.
