Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

TRISTAN

The morning sun stung my eyes as I opened the shade on my bedroom window.

We'd rolled into Illinois overnight. We'd be playing at an arena in Chicago tomorrow evening, and I planned to spend today and tomorrow resting my voice and trying to get my head in the zone after my terrible performance in Minneapolis. There was no choice-I simply had to get it together.

Ronan burst into my room without knocking.

Why do I keep forgetting to lock that damn door?

"Hey, dude." He plopped down on my bed. "What was up with you last night?"

My stomach sank. I wasn't sure whether he was referring to my performance or something else. "What in particular?" I asked.

"You were all bitchy to everyone. Then you kicked those girls out of your room and left the bus. Don't think I don't have my eyes on you."

"Pretty amazing that you were tracking my whereabouts while you had a girl face down on your lap. You're multitalented."

"Ambi-DICK-strous." He winked. "What is that?" He looked toward my hand.

Shit. I hadn't realized I was playing with Emily's scrunchie again. I'd slept with it around my wrist. "None of your business is what it is…"

"You're hiding something. I can see it in your face. Who does that belong to? None of the girls who come on the bus wear those in their hair." He squinted. "But more than that… I noticed it wrapped around your wrist when you came back to the bus last night."

"How the hell did you catch that?"

"I told you. I have eyes on the freaking back of my head. I see everything, brother." Ronan smirked. "You were with someone…"

"No, I wasn't."

"You hooked up with someone when you left the bus, and you don't want to tell me? That's shady as hell."

"I didn't hook up with anyone."

"Then whose hair thingy is that?"

One thing I knew about Ronan, he wasn't going to let up. He would stay here and keep prying ad nauseum until I told him the truth. And he'd start getting other people involved for entertainment. The more I denied it, the harder he'd push. It would be easier to just admit the truth.

"I went over to the other bus to hang out for a while. I needed a breather from this one last night. That's it."

"You didn't answer my question, though. Whose hair tie is that?"

"It's Emily's." I swallowed.

"The cute girl who fetches shit for us?"

His comment offended me. "She's more than just cute. She's bright…witty. Way smarter than the airheads we normally encounter on the road."

"So you went to visit her on the other bus..."

"I think she's cool, yeah. I was chatting with her and started twirling this thing around my fingers. I accidentally walked away with it, which is why you saw it on my wrist. Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not going to find anything salacious about that."

He scratched his chin. "Hmm..."

"Hmm, what?"

"Just trying to figure out if I believe you."

"I'm not into her like that," I lied. "I just went over there for a breather and to say hello. I talked to other people on the bus, too." For a mere two seconds.

He squinted. "Still don't know if I buy it."

I pulled on the scrunchie and snapped the elastic against my wrist. "Don't you miss just hanging out with normal people who aren't part of this world? People who don't have any ulterior motives? Who don't want something from you?"

"Isn't she technically part of the tour?" he countered.

"Yeah, but she's far from part of the music scene and couldn't care less about all that. She didn't even know who I was the day I met her, when she came to interview in the desert while we were recording. Initially, that's what I liked about her. We weren't going to find anyone else to work on the tour who genuinely didn't have a clue about us. And I've gotten to know her a little here and there since then." I shook my head. "But there's nothing going on. She's way too young for me anyway."

Well, that last part was true.

Ronan arched a brow. "Never stopped you before."

"Hooking up is different than getting involved with someone."

"Now you're getting involved with her?"

He was pissing me off. "No. But she's not the kind of girl you mess around with. You know? She's been through a lot…" I had to stop myself. I didn't want to talk about Emily's business. Even that bit I'd divulged was too much. He'd ask more questions if I went any further. Ronan was the nosiest person I'd ever met and had the biggest mouth, too. "Why am I explaining myself to you? You need to mind your freaking business about where I go and what I do."

He smacked me on the shoulder. "You are my business. Always will be. I tell you all of my shit-unsolicited-and you give me nothing in return. It's like you think I'm gonna judge you when I'm the least judgmental person."

Ronan had a point. He might've been nosy, but he didn't have a judgmental bone in his body. My trepidation about opening up to him, particularly regarding my vocal issues, had everything to do with my own shame.

"I'm sorry. Things have just been…tough lately." I hung my head.

"Your voice, you mean?"

Fuck. I lifted my gaze. "You noticed?"

"Yeah, I've noticed. I obviously haven't said anything to you. But I noticed. Atticus has too."

My shoulders hunched in defeat. The fact that they knew and didn't mention it made me feel even worse, like they'd been whispering behind my back. Now I'd be fucking paranoid.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything to me?"

"Because what good would that do? We're on tour. We can't stop this train. Pointing it out would make you self-conscious. That would probably make whatever is going on worse. That which you focus on only grows bigger."

"Aren't you curious as to what's causing it?"

He shrugged. "I didn't ask because I feel like that should come voluntarily from you. Like I said, focusing on it will only make it worse. More real. Didn't want to make an issue of it." He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "They still love you, man. Everyone loves you." He paused. "That said, what the hell is going on?"

"I have polyps on my vocal cords. That's why my voice is off. Doctor says the only way around it is surgery. But that could risk permanent damage."

"Fuck." The expression on his face freaked me out a little. "And you've had to keep this from us? Why didn't you feel like you could tell us?"

"I guess I didn't want anyone freaking out about it like you seem to be now. But to your point, the less I dwell on it, the more I hope it fades into the background." Threading the scrunchie around my fingers, I said, "Do you think anyone else has noticed?"

"Like the fans, you mean?"

I held my breath. "Yeah…"

"I haven't heard any rumblings, and I'm normally pretty in tune to the gossip. I've been hitting all the music threads online. I'll let you know if I come across anything. It's not so obvious. I notice it because I play with you all the time."

I'd bet it was more obvious than he seemed to think, especially if Emily, who was fairly new to our music, had noticed it.

"Well, if it gets any worse, it will be obvious," I said.

"Is there anything you can do in the meantime? Medication or therapy?"

"Rest and voice therapy are the only things I can do right now. But neither is feasible in the middle of a tour. So I really need to focus on fixing this shit once we have a break. I just hope I don't lose my voice entirely in the meantime."

True worry filled his eyes. "If you need anything, man. Let me know. I'm gonna start researching, too. What did you call it? Lollipops or some shit?"

"Polyps. And you're a fucking idiot." I laughed.

"You know me. I find stuff that others don't. If I have to make you a fucking witch's brew, I will. Throw some holy water on you. I'll do whatever I need to."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you. I appreciate that, man."

"We're gonna get to the bottom of it." He gently punched my arm. "Nice way to get us off the subject of Emily, by the way-dropping that bomb about your voice."

"There's nothing more to say about Emily, because there's nothing going on."

"There's got to be some reason you felt compelled to leave the bus last night to go talk to her," he pushed.

"She and I are friendly. We hung out in Detroit," I admitted. "I took her to Abdul's. We ate and talked. That's it." I sighed. "She's cool. Reminds me of the calm and peace of the life I had before I left home."

"You mean eons ago when you were a teenager?"

"Yes, jackass. I'm not a damn teenager anymore-obviously. But I feel like myself around her. You've never met anyone who made you feel like that?"

He grimaced. "I'm not really looking to be reminded of my life before music. It was pretty crappy and nothing I want to remember."

I ate my words and nodded. I'd had a pretty stable life growing up, but Ronan had come from an abusive home. His parents were both alcoholics, and he looked at this as an escape from all that. He didn't have any nostalgia for his childhood.

"I get it, man," I said. "Maybe I'm just getting too old for this shit. More and more, I've been thinking about what life might've been like if I hadn't left."

"Yeah, you'd be piss-poor and out of shape. Probably far less tattoos."

I chuckled. "You don't know that."

"Look, there's no sense in thinking about what might've been. You could also be dead-could've gotten hit by a truck stumbling home from some no-name bar in the bumfuck town you grew up in." He put his hand on my shoulder and shook me. "What you should be focusing on is how you can make your current life-the only life you have-better…by getting your voice back in check."

I took a deep breath. "You're right."

"Don't think I have no ulterior motive here." He snickered. "If you go down, the rest of us go down. We all need you."

The pressure in my chest built. "I realize that. We've worked too hard to get where we are to have me take us down."

"It'd take a lot for you to lose them. People love you. Even at your worst, you're better than most." He sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're the draw. It's fucking you . Bass players, drummers-we're more replaceable than someone with the voice you have. It's one of a kind." He pointed at me. "And remember this moment, because my damn ego won't let me repeat what I just said."

"Understood." I smiled, thankful for Ronan and relieved that I'd gotten some of this off of my chest. It did make me feel better.

"What's going on in here?" Atticus interrupted, whipping the door open. "Some kind of private talk? What did I say about you two assholes ganging up on me?"

"Not everything is about you, Atticus," Ronan said. "Anyway, we're just adjourning. I need to go have a smoke." He headed out.

"I'll join you," Atticus said, following him.

Relief washed over me that Atticus didn't pry. I panicked for a second, worrying that Ronan was going to tell him everything, but maybe that would be easier than having to rehash it. He'd said Atticus had noticed my voice anyway. The less talking I did about the situation-and the less talking in general-the better.

A few minutes after they left, Atticus's nephew, Kieran, walked in. "Do you have a second, Tristan?"

"Yeah. Sure. I've got a little time."

Apparently, my room was a revolving door this morning.

Kieran was Atticus's sister's son. Atticus was like a dad to him, since Kieran's father had passed away. Kieran had been traveling with us. He was just out of college and looking for an adventure before having to enter the workforce, so Atticus had suggested he join the crew for both the US and European legs of our tour. Even if Atticus didn't say it, I knew he loved having family around.

"What's up?" I sat on the edge of my bed.

"I wanted your advice on something."

"What can I help you with?"

"Well, basically you're a baller. Women are obsessed with you. And I want to know if you have any secrets or tips for me."

I chuckled. "Is something prompting this conversation?"

"There's a girl I like. But I don't know if she's into me, and I want to figure out what I could be doing to make myself more appealing. Like, I know women are into you because you're a star and all that, but I figure you have a lot of experience and might be able to guide me as to how I should act to give myself the best chance."

I cleared my throat. "Well, first of all, you shouldn't be acting at all. There's no better way to be than your authentic self. Anything else is going to get you nowhere fast, because it's hard to keep up a fa?ade for long."

I'm one to talk lately.

"What if my authentic self is pretty damn boring?" he countered.

"I think most people find themselves boring. Because we live in our own shoes twenty-four-seven. We get sick of ourselves. You know? And we're our own toughest critics. But there are a few things you can do that might help capture someone's attention."

He sat down. "I'm all ears…"

"Okay, first, you never want to let her see you sweat. If a girl thinks you're too into her, that's going to be a turnoff. So, as much as you might like someone, you have to ease up on the attention, at least at first."

I chuckled to myself, thinking about my bus visit last night. Do as I say, not as I do.

"So how do you know how much attention to pay to someone you like?" he asked.

"Subtly show you're interested without getting in her face too much or constantly talking her ear off. No calling or texting her too much. That kind of thing. Basically, baby steps. Ease into things."

"Okay…good advice." He rubbed his hands together. "What else?"

"While you should always be yourself, little enhancements won't hurt. Make sure you smell good. A little of the right cologne goes a long way. A good smell can be an aphrodisiac."

"I don't wear cologne."

"Never too late to start."

He eyed my bottle of Armani cologne, then walked over to the bureau and sprayed some on himself.

"That's just a minor thing. Not a deal breaker," I continued. "But you're gonna want to exude confidence, and smelling good helps-especially when making a move. If she senses you're not sure of yourself, it's going to give her pause and make her wonder if there's a reason she should be thinking twice about you."

"What if you can't help seeming nervous to ask her out?"

I waved my hand. "Don't overthink it. Just pull the trigger and accept the consequences, good or bad. You're not gonna be any less nervous if you sit there and think about it."

"Okay." He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Enjoy being young. You have so many opportunities ahead of you. And if this girl you like doesn't pan out, you have a lot of time to meet someone even better, because time is on your side."

"I guess that's true. Thanks."

I nodded. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"It's Emily. She works on the tour." He smiled. "You know her?"