You’re losing your mind again
Turns out I had fractured only two of my ribs, when in all honesty it felt like I had cracked all of them. I didn’t remember much of the show, I was still kinda stunned the whole evening and Chris had told me I started playing songs we never do live like The diary of Mohicans and Take ‘em out. Fuck, it must’ve sucked for guys to realize their lead guitarist is fucked and you can’t just take it out from the set like you’d do with bass if something would go deadly wrong.
Sure, the whole experience had been painful, but heck now I was drugged off any limits and seeing bunnies and rainbows. They had brought me to the nearest hospital and the good doctor prescribed me some very strong ibuprofen type of drugs. I wouldn’t lie if I said I was floating through life, and even tho I had broken ribs, the doc said to keep on doing the same things I was doing daily since there was no internal bleeding, my side was only slightly swollen and I had no problems breathing. Of course, if my situation changes and even those ice packs I had to shove up my side every other hour wouldn’t keep the swelling away, I should look for a medical help.
So now I’m sitting in the master bedroom, have no idea how I got here or why are all my stuff scattered around- I could’ve been sleeping for all I know, ‘cause everything is pitch black and the only light that illuminated the place was the headlights from the town outside the bus. I think we had stopped somewhere again, tho I was not sure. Maybe we were still in Seattle, I honestly had no idea, but I knew I was thirsty and there was an a-okay looking gas station just outside the bus.
Silently I exited the bedroom just to walk in the snore filled baby making area. Every curtain on every single bunk were shut, but one. I walked up to the bunk to see Chris having his earphones in and watching a movie. What was the time? "Hey..." I rested my upper arms on his sheets while he fixed his attention to me.
"You’re supposed to be sleeping..." He whispered a frown growing on his face.
"The drugs are wearing off, so the pain is kicking back in," I explained, feeling only a slight discomfort in my side and I knew it’s gonna get way worse if I won’t take those magical painkillers. "I figured to go on an adventure, you’re in?"
"Your dad is gonna kill us, Hills..." He hissed, rolling out of his bunk. I leaned to look over the time in Chris’s laptop. 4 Am. No he’s not gonna kill us, ‘cause he’s long lost in his dream world.
"Noirs are also here?" I questioned, not being able to remember if I saw King in that joyful show, or not.
"Yeah, since you got hurt, they too decided to stay around, instead of driving off to the next city," Chris explained as we moved our way past the leather couches and the empty driver’s seat.
"Speaking about getting hurt... How was the show? I mean, I was there and I know you told I started playing the wrong songs, but how was it?" I asked, opening the door and instantly being hit in the face by a cool breeze.
"It sucked balls at first, ‘cause none of us really knew if you were capable of playing, so every two seconds each of us shot you a glance to see if you were in place, but after we kinda got through Starless Victory, we just kept going hoping for the best."
"I nailed Starless Victory?" I exclaimed, in the last moment realizing other’s may be sleeping, but judging by the sounds of our roadie bus, they were doing everything, but sleeping... at least some of them. See the thing with that song was – it was heavy, it was melodic and it was meant to kick the crowd in the face with those uber melodic solo’s, but... those solo’s were those silly triplets and sort of power chords underneath them, which were a real pain in the ass to play.
"Let’s not use the phrase ‘nailed it’... You ditched the solo and just made up your variations of power chords..." Weeelll... that was close enough.
"But anyway... The crowd cheered louder than ever even when you messed up the ending for Bad Girlfriend." I threw Chris sort of a side glance to see a smirk creeping up on his lips, "I think they were glad just to see you alive."
And that I was thankful for. My phone started ringing in the pocket of my sweats. Must be Ryan – I thought to myself, but as soon as I looked over the screen, a frown started mirroring on my face. "Hey... Lillian...?" Why was she calling me? And at 4 in the morning... after the night I’d wounded up drunk and yelled her out of the house?
"Oh thank god you’re alive..." I heard her take a relieved breath, "we all were so worried about you..."
"Uhmm... Lillian, what’s going on?" By ‘we all’ what did she mean exactly?
"I’m gonna go and grab myself a six pack, you want something?" Chris asked in a hushed voice as we walked up to the gas station.
My hand shot in front of my phone as I replied, "grab me a coke... oh and some twinkies!" I handed Chris my wallet and with a simple nod, he took it and walked inside the establishment.
"We saw the video, Megan..." She replied and I could her at least another person in the background. "How are you feeling?"
"Uhmm... Alive, I guess... But who are ‘we’?"
"Me and the girls... Oh, you probably don’t know them... my sister Amanda and our friend Tracy..." I had heard about them. Amanda, the one who left Hunter, because of his groupies...And if I’m correct Tracy was Scott’s ex-wife.
"Wait, you mean to tell me there’s a video? Already?" Call me crazy, but I was almost too excited to see the damn thing, "tell me... do I look fabulous... No, better don’t tell me, I’ll look it up myself."
"I see you are feeling just great," Lillian laughed into the conversation,
"I am kinda sore, but those are just two fractured ribs, but enough with that... Listen, I really wanted to apologize for earlier when I blew up for no apparent reason, I was just super drunk and—"
"Oh, honey, I don’t blame you... Living with Ryan does things to women..."
"What do you mean?" My eyes landed on two silhouettes which were swaying their way to the bus. Laughter were escorting the two drunks and I couldn’t bear, but smile, realizing that must be some roadie couple, drunkenly sneaking their way to the bus for a quickie.
Chris POV.
No budweiser? Well, what the hell am I supposed to drink now? Bud light? Like that’s gonna happen... I can’t fucking believe 7/11 didn’t have a fucking Budweiser... My fingers ran through my hair as I inspected the booze shelves. Bacardi breezer? What the fuck is this thing? Looks like something Malibu Barbie would drink. Watermelon? Eww, fuck that...
Well it looked like I wasn’t gonna get anything better than some cheap piss-water, but then again, what was I even whining about? At times like these, when you crawl out of the bus at 4 in the morning and realize you’re standing in 7/11 and watching over some cheap-ass midnight piss, thinking of buying that Malibu Barbie fruit-water, just because you have to somehow lull yourself to sleep, is the most wonderful feeling anyone could ever have. Because… first of all – you roll out of a tour bus, second – you get paid to do what you love, with a little exception of not being able to play video games up on stage, third – you get to do what you love with the people who you love. And even tho I loved Meg, I couldn’t stay away from that youtube page and not crack up every time I saw her go crashing against the hand rail. And I can shamelessly admit, I watched those videos... like a lot. That was the most perfect fall I’d ever seen and I regretted not seeing it at the gig. Hell, even tho she was in extreme pain, it looked like she was posing for the people - she looked like she’d just jumped out of a cover of a magazine. It’s not humanly possible to play a show, sweat like a pig and still have amazing hair and full make-up on ones face... That’s against every law of physics!
Okay, let’s grab whatever and just move on... Coke for Meg? Have it. Some piss water for good old Christopher? I rephrase that, Malibu Barbie midnight piss for Christopher? Yup.
As I moved over to the cashier, I couldn’t miss the drunk couple moving their way to the Noir bus. Someone’s getting laid tonight... I smiled to myself, searching for a pack of Twinkies, but not finding one. "You’re out of Twinkies?" I raised my eyes to look over a gorgeous yet very tired girl.
"Been since the day they invented them," She replied as she scanned the code off the coke. She looked taken aback when she raised her eyes to look at me, "But then again, I think there might be some in stock," For a quick moment my attention slid over to the couple outside the shop, just to see them be Knox and that... that groupie of his... And Meg was right there... talking on the phone... Well shit.
"You know... forget about the Twinkies," I smiled my best smile, throwing a hundred on the counter, before I grabbed the coke and that piss-water and practically ran out of the shop.
"’Lil, you should really fly out to one of our shows, you’d love it..." Meg smiled into the conversation while kicking a pebble away. Oh great, so she was talking to Knox’s ex, with the devil himself being just a couple of feet behind her back... tongue wrestling the stupid chick. Oh jeez... What to do, what to fucking do? "Yeah, sure, a lot of hot guys..." She chuckled, great, so that meant she didn’t hear what was going on behind her back. And she definitely didn’t hear the part where, the chick crashed against the metal side...
Understand me right, I have nothing against turning my beloved guitarist around and letting all hell run loose, but we had a tour to do, so it would be difficult with Meg sitting behind bars. And besides I liked Knox. Well, not liked-liked, but I thought he was the right for Meg. Even with his sex drive, cheating nature and shit for brains. And if I knew Knox was sober at the moment, I’d smash his skull in myself, but what’s the point with his head off to Mars?
So I figured it was best to not let Twinks see what’s going on. It would be worst for everyone – she’d get upset, kill someone and I’d be playing both mine part and hers, and everyone knew Chris ain’t playing no solo’s. "Oh, okay... Take care, Lillian. Bye." Oh, she stopped having that lovely conversation? Well, ain’t we all screwed?
"Got the Twinkies?" She asked, sliding her phone in her pocket.
"Nah, they were out." I replied, every two seconds shifting my attention on Gate’s stupid ass.
"What is it with this goddamn country? I knew it to buy them when they were on sale, but all knowing Chris said, ‘no, why do you need two tons of Twinkies’, well this is fucking why..." If I could say, she did a rather good impression of myself. "Feels like a goddamn zombie ‘pocalypse out here... So we’re set?" Were we set to head back to the bus... to head the same exact way Knox was licking someone’s tonsil’s, pressing this someone against the side of the bus? I believed not.
"I think I’m finally ready to have a smoke..."
"I thought you quit..." yeah, so did I. I shoved my hand deep in her pocket to pull out a pack of Camel along with a lighter. Oh here we go again... Fantastic.
"This shit with Twinkies..." I lit the smoke, before continuing, "It’s just too fucking stressful."
"I know, right?" She took back the pack and treated herself to a smoke.
After minutes of small talk with Meg, she started to get suspicious when I almost threw up, lighting my third smoke in a row. Oh come on Knox, take that shit inside, and as if god had finally heard my begging and saw my pale aspect, they finally decided to take it inside. "Chris, you look awfully pale... Spit that shit out and let’s get going."
Never had I been this glad to hear those words, I mean ‘spit that shit out and let’s get going’? Wasn’t I supposed to say that? But hell, I was down with whatever just to stop smoking or else I’d vomit my way through the tour.
As we walked back to our bus, I couldn’t shake the thought of Knox getting it for every single time he hurt a girl, it specially for hurting Meg. I was covering for him only because I knew she wasn’t feeling too well to start with and hell, if and when this happens again, I’ll be the one to turn Meg around and yell – look, Knox is tongue fishing!