Bottleneck

by Henry, Max

  He didn’t. If he had, he wouldn’t have forgotten her toned and taut body in a barely-there dress, dripping with gold.

  Gold, her bands paid for. Unknowingly.

  “She stole from us.”

  “What the fuck? How much?”

  “Does it matter?” I take a moment to reflect on all the signs we missed while I chew on the last of the jerky.

  The larger our gigs got, the less we earned. At first, it was excuses about how we hadn’t levelled up in reputation to ask for a larger cut, followed by bullshit about increased costs for the grander productions. The final straw was when she spent thousands preparing to support a hot new band that seemingly never existed.

  We should have been on the precipice of breaking out, but instead, Fria, Shanae, and I were sharing a one-bedroom apartment and living on fuck all.

  The only thing we could thank Mary-Anne for when we finally parted ways was our starvation-style slim physique. As much as I wish it weren’t so, people still gravitate towards the thin and the beautiful. Nothing grows your audience like vanity with an unhealthy side-dose of jealousy.

  “You thought about suing her?” Emery murmurs.

  “With what money?” I drop a bitter laugh.

  “You don’t need money to take someone to court.”

  “You do if you lose.” Of all people, I should know.

  “You’re telling me that the three of you can’t scratch together enough for a lawyer?”

  “Just drop it, Emery.”

  He huffs, folding his thick arms across his chest. Guilt gnaws at my gut. I know he was trying to help. It’s just—

  “There are things that I need to worry about before chasing down some manager who’ll get what’s owed to her when the time is right.”

  He turns his head, settling his irritated frown on me. “You could get in touch with other previous clients of hers and organize a class suit.”

  “Except for the tiny detail of a non-disclosure agreement we signed as part of our contracts.”

  His lips purse with his anger, jaw jutted forward. He’s every inch the petulant teen I remember him to be.

  “We can’t discuss the details of our contracts,” I explain. “During, or after our term with her.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit.”

  “That’s why you should read the fine print,” I say with a shrug. “It’s in the past, Em. I’d rather leave it there and focus on what’s ahead.”

  A beat passes before he quietly asks, “Does it ever scare you? The unknown?”

  “Every damn day.”

  He nods, mouth tugging to one side as his face relaxes. “Yeah. Me too.”

  ELEVEN

  Emery

  “Shot Down” – BRKN LOVE

  After talking with Alice, I figured the least I could do was stop being a jerk and get dressed. She revealed more than she had to, but at the same time, it feels as though there’s so much more she isn’t saying.

  I know precisely who Mary-Anne is and what that chance meeting meant for this band. I never saw Alice that night in Houston, but it didn’t stop me from inflicting as much pain as I could manage.

  I guess she doesn’t know that, otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now—a guest of her kind heart and selfless care.

  Alice spent the rest of the night tucked away in her bunk, curtain closed, pretending to read a book. How do I know she faked it? I never heard the gentle scrape of the pages turning once. Instead, I listened to the shaky sighs that accompany a person who runs over shit that they can’t change, drowning themselves in an ocean of regret and anger.

  I’ve missed a lot while we’ve been distant, sure. But fuck—she got robbed by the person who was supposed to be her support, and I never knew. There was a time when I would have been the first number she called.

  There’s a time when I would have been the guy to sort it out, not the one who assisted in fucking her over.

  The girls huddle in the back of the bus, choosing their outfits for tonight’s show. Being on board with women is so different from men. Sure, on the odd occasion the guys and I might opt for a theme color to add into our wardrobe, but we sure as fuck don’t spend an hour picking out every goddamn piece. Between the clucking over clothing and the afternoon soundcheck, I haven’t had much opportunity to press Alice for more.

  She’s keeping something close to her chest, and a Google search on the years I’ve missed didn’t reveal much. Call me petty, but I want to know.

  About as bad as I want to know why she cut me off.

  “What do you do to keep yourself busy while they’re on stage, my man?” I pass Telly a beer now that we’re parked.

  He accepts the can and crooks a bony finger to tear the tab. “Oh, not too much. I usually find a roadhouse and get myself a meal,” he says.

  “You been with the girls long?”

  He tips his snow-topped head to one side. “It’ll be two years this winter.”

  “A while, then.”

  The old guy nods.

  I study the weathered skin around his eyes, the scarred hands. “What did you do before you decided to drive divas around the countryside?”

  “Long-haul,” he answers on a sigh. “Did that for forty years until I couldn’t handle the straps and heavy lifting anymore.”

  “Got yourself a wife?” I settle a shoulder against the front of the bus.

  Telly shakes his head. “She passed a while back.”

  “Sorry to hear, man.” I take a sip. “Kids?”

  “Two boys.” He grins. “Both enlisted.”

  “You must be proud.”

  “Very much.” He nods toward where the girls chatter, taking turns darting to the small bathroom to use the lighted mirror. “How do you know my girls?”

  His girls. He’s like a fucking father for them. “I’ve known Alice a while.”

  On hearing her name, she hesitates in the walkway, turning back to look at me. I shoo her on her way.

  “She’s a good girl, miss Alice. Takes care of the others.”

  “Yeah.” I glance toward the curtain while draining half the can. “Always been that way.”

  “Shame what happened to her, you know.”

  “It is.” Unfortunately, it happens all too often with young bands looking for help to navigate the industry.

  “She took it well, though. Didn’t let it get her jaded like some others might.”

  Like me. “Nope.”

  “Pity that it’ll affect her the rest of her life, though.” He nods toward where the three of them stride out, arms full, ready to disembark and storm the arena.

  His comment strikes me as a bit over the top, yet I let it slide and step aside to allow the girls past. Fria couldn’t screw her face up any harder if she tried. Shanae tosses a saucy wink, having seen the reaction of her bandmate, and follows down into the parking lot.

  “You coming inside with us?” I flick my attention to Alice, who stands in the walkway, waiting for my answer.

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Just checking.” She shrugs, ducking her head to follow the others.

  “Hey.” I drop a couple of steps to close the distance. “Have a good show, yeah?”

  Her eyes light up, a smile tickling at her lips, but she doesn’t let it show. “You know that’s bad luck, right?”

  “Isn’t that what enemies are supposed to do?” I smirk. “Give each other bad luck?”

  Golden waves float as she shakes her head, retreating backward. “We’re not enemies, Emery.”

  I frown. “What the fuck do you call the past eight years, then?”

  This time her smile splits, step light as she turns. “A difference of opinion.”

  Alice jogs after the other two, her huge boots heavy on the rain-dusted pavement. She carries a makeup case in her left hand; the square box bangs against her hip as she moves, her right arm cloaked with the outfit she’ll throw on closer to opening.

  She doesn’t need either to take anyone’
s breath away. As a fresh-faced teenager, Alice could captivate the audience. As a woman, I reckon she could do the same, even in sweats and with her hair wild and loose.

  “Very strange that she hasn’t mentioned you before,” Telly remarks behind me.

  I shake my head, watching Alice until she disappears behind an SUV. “Not strange at all.”

  “She appears to care a great deal about you.” He shakes a worn leather billfold between us. “I’m going out to try my luck with the ponies. Lock up the old girl when you go, huh?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He pats a weathered hand to my shoulder. “Good boy.”

  If he seriously believes a single word that came out his mouth, the old guy mustn’t have been around me long enough to know better. I’m in no way the “good boy”. At all.

  Maybe if Alice had mentioned me before, he’d know.

  By the time the roar of the crowd signals the start of the concert, I’m seriously considering downsizing my studio apartment for a house bus. Tunes pump from the stereo system, and I’ve got myself a sweet setup in the back with whoever’s PlayStation it is, a plate of scrambled egg whites, and a six-pack to chase it down.

  I’m locked away, lost in my own world enjoying the things I like to do without an ounce of guilt layered on by well-meaning friends or fucking Deanna. Why the hell Rey keeps trying to get out of rehab if this is how chill it is, I don’t know. I’d fucking pay to sit on my ass all day if all I had to do in return is sing in a goddamn prayer circle or some shit.

  Then again—rehab equals no alcohol. Fuck.

  Perhaps I’ll stick with the house bus.

  I ignore the alarm on my phone, letting the device slide off the C-shaped sofa and onto the floor. I’ve got three kills left to nail this game; I can wait until then to go. Flights home were few and far between, so I figured why not spend the time depleting what’s left of my supply stash before I head out?

  I nail a woolly mammoth in the head, reducing the enemy count to two. My phone screams from the floor as one guy shoots his builds skyward: the goddamn Imperial March.

  I ignore the leech and focus on locating the second enemy while my screen-buddy fortifies himself.

  The chime starts over.

  An unopened ammo box gives me the shells I need to take out his base before I shift position to the next half-wrecked house.

  Two seconds of respite and the fucking phone starts again.

  With one thumb navigating me across the terrain, I reach out with my left and shunt the fucking thing down the walkway. It bounces off the base of Alice’s bunk and stops under the curtain partitioning the forward lounge.

  Dude in the brick base nails the other guy, leaving it down to him and me as the storm circle closes in. I set up my sniper position and wait for him to pop his head above the wall.

  My eye roves to the goddamn smartphone when it resumes harassing me. I’m fucking over the sound of Vader encroaching on my space. The march stops, merely to immediately restart.

  My opponent hasn’t shown himself, leaving me to wonder if he’s abandoned his post already. I glance at the bright screen, and then to my phone, before setting the controller down with a sigh. Five steps down the bus and my fingertips brush the phone case the same second a heavy sniper round echoes out from the back of the vehicle.

  The sound bite that quickly follows tells me the game is over.

  Eyes closed, I draw a deep breath before dialing her back.

  “Why didn’t you answer?”

  “Hey, babe,” I sass. “Good to hear your voice, babe.”

  “Don’t be cute with me.” Her tone sets the hairs on the back of my neck stiff. “What if I’d been in an accident and somebody needed to reach you? What if I was in trouble?”

  One: I can’t imagine anyone ever getting the upper hand on Deanna, and two: I would not be in a hurry to go anywhere if she were in an accident. Pretty sure the woman is invincible, anyway.

  “What’s the problem, Dee?”

  “Why haven’t you moved for the last three hours?”

  Invasion washes over me, an unwelcome, cold violation. I rub the gooseflesh off one leg as I answer. “I’m heading to the airport now.”

  “Bullshit. You haven’t moved at all.” Her voice grows distant signaling she’s got me on speaker.

  “Are you seriously stalking me?” I switch off the PlayStation with my free hand.

  She sighs. “Don’t start this shit with me. You’re the one who travels with God only knows who, after leaving here without saying a damn thing, and now I’m the one in the wrong?”

  She has a point.

  “Sorry.” Pretty sure my balls crawled an inch higher. “I promise I’m leaving now.” I slide my feet into my boots and check the surfaces for anything else I need to take with me. “As soon as I’m off this call, I’ll sort out my ride to the airport.”

  “I’ll do it for you.” She goes quiet save for the slight tap of her nail on the phone’s screen.

  “I’m capable of organizing a rideshare myself.” My dirty clothes still lay strewn on the floor.

  “I know.”

  I sweep them into an empty shopping bag and grip the plastic handles in my fist.

  “But if I do it for you, I’m assured it’s done right.”

  My tongue bleeds.

  “What gate do they need to meet you at?” Deanna asks. “I’ll put it in the job notes.”

  “I’ll meet them at B.” I take a deep breath and step out of my steel tube of sanctuary and into the early evening light. “How did you know they’ll need to know what gate?”

  “You’re at a goddamn sports stadium, Emery.” She sighs heavily. “Question is, who are you there with?”

  “Does it matter? I’m almost home, aren’t I?”

  “You know I could figure out who plays there tonight by searching Google, right?”

  Fuck. “I caught a lift with Lords of London,” I lie.

  She laughs, loud and piercing while I frown at the signs telling me which way to gate B. “There’s no way Jordy would have let you within twenty feet of him.”

  I assumed that as usual, the alphabet would have started near the service entrance. “Nobody said it was an easy ride.” It appears that this fucking place decided to buck the norm when choosing the layout.

  “Who’s the support act?” she grills.

  I sigh out my nose, setting off toward my distant destination. “As though I’d pay attention to who the fuck those no-hopers are.” The betrayal sits in the base of my gut like a ton of goddamn lead.

  Alice isn’t a no-hoper, and I did more than pay attention—to all three of them.

  “Pfft. Your driver is in a dark gray Lexus. He’s eleven minutes away.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Thanks, Dee,” the bitch singsongs. “No problem, Emery.”

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.” I disconnect and slide her tether to me into my back pocket.

  As if she’d ever say thanks to me. Why the fuck should I feel bad about not saying it to her?

  My boots make a steady beat on the pavement while I head for my pickup point, my focus on the bag in my hand. I space the handles along my forearm and dig around in the contents to find the pockets of my jeans; one inquisitive finger dives into the super-tight change pocket. I let a sigh of relief drop my shoulders when I hit plastic.

  Still there. I found the Vicodin tucked inside a compact in the girls’ bathroom the second I boarded their bus and figured I’d stash it for the perfect moment. Heading back to isolation with the one fix I can’t kick seems like the ideal time to trip myself over the rainbow.

  Using the shopping bag as a shield, I unwrap the big-boy candies and then lift the tiny tabs to my mouth. The powdery surface sticks to my dry tongue, taking two swallows to get past the restriction of my throat.

  Alice said they wouldn’t let me on board drunk, but how the fuck they gonna know I’m floating on a chemically induced cloud when I look like any other laid-back
hipster musician?

  Sex, drugs, and rock n roll.

  I swore I’d make it my life when I wore out the thin black tape on my dad’s Motley Crue cassette as a kid.

  I just never figured it would end up being more of a nightmare than a dream.

  TWELVE

  Alice

  “Blue Monday” - Orgy

  “I think I’ll start referring to my feet as Big Ben,” Shanae mutters beside me.

  I scour the dark exterior of our bus and frown. “Why?”

  “They fucking chime the hour with the way they throb, just like that clock does.”

  I’m hearing her. Eight shows and my back is begging for a week laid up in bed. Thank fuck for a doctor who knows what I need.

  She twists her head to look at me, then the bus, then back to me. “What?”

  “Why is it dark?” I ask.

  I don’t need to look at her to know she rolls her eyes. “Um, maybe, like, everyone is asleep?”

  If it were just Telly, sure. But Emery is not the type to turn in early. Unless it is just Telly already. Damn.

  Shanae snorts. “I’d almost go as far as to say you look devastated, babe.”

  “About what?” I feign, reaching for access beside the door. “I’m just wondering why nobody is awake. It’s only, like, one or something.”

  “You were hoping he’d hang around to say goodbye, right?”

  “No.” My voice cracks on the single syllable. I clear my throat. “It’s not that at all.”

  “Totally is,” she mutters, heading on board first. “He has to get home, you know. Can’t wait forever when there aren’t that many flights out of here.”

  Sure enough, Telly is reclined in his cushy driver’s seat, head rolled back on his slender shoulders and mouth open while he snores. I’ve offered him a bunk so many times, but he insists he feels better if he sleeps near the door. “In case any trouble should come knockin’,” were his words.

  Shanae strips in full view, half-naked already where she stands between the bunks.

  My gut plummets. If she’s back to being candid with her bedtime routine, then my suspicion’s confirmed: Emery left already. I ease around her, pretending all I need is to retrieve my facial wipes and toothbrush while she changes into her tiny pajama set. I do my best not to look obvious while I scan the surfaces for any note, any token from Emery to say thanks.