Just an Illusion--Unplugged

by D. Kelly

  A few hours after we’re on the bus, Mel is already asleep. I’ve never seen anyone fall asleep on a bus so fast, it’s like she’s completely at home. Noah and I both went to our respective rooms, and I’ve been lightly playing my guitar and writing down new lyrics. I love being on the bus; it’s been our home for so long that it has a calming effect on me. Only one other place in the world can do that—my grandparents’ house, well … my house now.

  My phone goes off, and I grab it anxiously. Before Mel laid down, she said she was turning off her phone but to wake her if we needed her. When I came to my room, I sent her a link to “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses as a welcome text. I’m decidedly curious to see what, if anything, she’ll text back. Even though she detests our music, she seems to have a good amount of musical knowledge. It’s probably because her best friend is in the business. I’m sure they spend a lot of time together going to gigs and stuff, but something is telling me it goes deeper than that.

  Unfortunately, it’s not Mel who is texting but almost as good. It’s my sister Diane. She pops up as Numero Uno because she was the firstborn. Poor Rory shows up as Runt because she was the last.

  Numero Uno: Are you all settled on the bus and basking in your happy place?

  You know me well. Maybe I’ll just live on the bus and tour the world by myself when it’s over.

  Numero Uno: You wouldn’t dare! It’s time to come home, Sawyer.

  I’m only kidding, although I might take the girls on a summer trip across America. Want to come? It could be fun.

  Numero Uno: Hm a summer on a bus with you and my kids or a summer at home with my husband basking in freedom and uninterrupted sex. Let me think about that for a minute.

  Haha! Maybe you’ll give us another set of twins after all. I could use a male namesake this time.

  Numero Uno: You only get one of those. I still worry I hurt Noah’s feelings with that. And put a kibosh on the twin curse. We don’t need any of those in this house.

  Don’t worry about Noah; he’s fine. He wants me to name my firstborn after him though.

  Numero Uno: Like that wasn’t already a given.

  Pretty much what I told him.

  Numero Uno: So how goes it with the girl? Happen to kiss her again?

  Never should have told you. It was a fluke; it’s not going to happen again.

  Numero Uno: If it does you’ll have to tell him.

  I know, that’s why it won’t.

  Numero Uno: Some things can’t be helped. If it happens be happy and then tell your brother you’re falling for someone … finally!

  Again, not going to happen but someday maybe.

  Numero Uno: Changing your outlook on relationships all of a sudden? Hmm, maybe this girl is good for you.

  Maybe … Noah said something earlier that resonated. It’s not her; it’s just the talk we had.

  Numero Uno: Keep telling yourself that. She’s the one who opened you up to talking about it in the first place, I’m sure.

  She’s right, but I’m not telling her that. And like she can read my mind, her next text makes me laugh.

  Numero Uno: You already know that though, and you won’t admit it. Stubborn ass. It’s okay, we still love you.

  A video clip pops up next, and I can’t even help the huge smile that creeps across my face when I press play. It’s Diane and the girls, and they’re screaming “We love you, Uncle Sawyer.” These fucking kids melt my cold heart every single time.

  Give them a huge hug and a kiss for me and tell them I’m already counting down the days till Thanksgiving. Love you guys.

  Numero Uno: Will do. Take care of yourself, Sawyer.

  Talking to Diane always makes me feel whole. She’s more than a sister; she’s been a second mom to me. She’s never judged me or made me feel less than, which is huge. Even though I have one of the best families ever, being the second twin has always made me feel somewhat second-best. I know it’s ridiculous and irrational, but it’s how I sometimes feel.

  I take a look back at the lyrics I’ve been writing and shake my head. If I put this much of my own truth into my lyrics, I can’t imagine how much of Princess is really in her book.

  My soul is dark as night

  You can’t see me

  But it’s fine

  Because in the shadows

  I can’t shine

  In the shadows

  Where I live

  You walk by

  My fears kick in

  You can’t see me

  But it’s fine

  Because in the shadows

  I’m alive

  My dark soul

  My black heart

  Live at peace in the dark

  Your white light

  Brings me out

  Burns me up

  And spits me out

  An angel

  A devil

  The darkness

  Blinding light

  Where are the shadows where I hide?

  Come with me

  She says

  I’m not worth it, I shake my head

  Dark shadows

  White light

  Good or evil?

  I can’t decide

  Fuck me. Belle and her babbling about the devil being redeemable really got to me. It’s not a bad base for a song one day, but not now, and most likely not with this band. I know they say they want to keep making music, but part of me wonders what the point is? Isn’t it fucked up for the fans to hear new music but never see a tour? I don’t like the idea of singing and never performing. It’s like taking the best part out of the equation.

  Last night I heard Princess get up and make something to eat around one in the morning. I thought about going to talk to her and make sure she didn’t need anything, but she’s a big girl, and I need to keep my distance.

  A few minutes later I heard her laughing, and a couple of minutes after that my phone buzzed across my dresser. She responded to my earlier text with “2 Of Amerikaz Most Wanted” by 2Pac and Snoop Dogg. This girl is going to be trouble.

  Much to my dismay and my delight, it turns out she’s a morning person like me. We had coffee together earlier, and I even shared my Pop-Tarts. I don’t know what it is about her that makes her so easy to talk to. We seem to have a lot in common, and our talk was just getting good when Noah came out and killed the vibe. He wasn’t happy to find me having coffee with Princess in my boxers.

  Sometimes he’s a little too respectable. Walking around in my boxers is no different than wearing a pair of shorts, and for fuck’s sake, she’s seen me in less. She’s felt my cock pressing against her warm heat as she practically rode my dick through her clothes. One slip of the towel and it would have been over. She’d have seen it all. Too bad it didn’t happen that way because if it had, she’d likely be in my bed right now instead of hers.

  All day she’s been like a walking, talking enigma. Everything she says seems to have a deeper meaning. Mel’s musical knowledge is vast. She can keep up with us, with our jokes, with everything. I tried to ignore how close together Noah and her were at practice today and how easily their conversations seem to flow. Instead, I focused my attention on her response to our music. For someone who hates our band so much, she loves the acoustic stuff. I get her dislike for the hard stuff, it’s not for everyone, but it got me thinking too.

  If there are thousands of listeners out there who hate our stuff, I bet they’ll like the new stuff too. I’d never change who we are as a band at the core, but it was nice to think about the possibility of reaching new listeners just by tweaking the volume and rage a bit. I’m wondering if, after some time passes, I can convince Noah to do some local shows. Something small and intimate, like maybe at J’s bar. If the Thanksgiving show goes well there, maybe he’ll be open to the idea. After all, we did get our start at Just an Illusion in the first place.

  Noah peeks his head into my room. “Still nee
d to go to the store, Sawyer?”

  “Yeah, I need to get off the bus and stretch for a few minutes. Are you coming?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I stopped earlier, but Mel needs to grab some stuff. Keep an eye on her, yeah?”

  “Of course, we’ll have Mac with us anyway, we’ll be fine.”

  The bus pulls a slow roll into Target’s parking lot, and I catch Mel looking out the window with wide eyes.

  “We’re going to Target?”

  “Problem with that?”

  She flashes me a gorgeous smile. The kind nice girls have. The genuine kind where her eyes crinkle and her laugh lines show. I’ve never seen someone so effortlessly beautiful.

  “Problem for you maybe. I fucking love Target. It’s my happy place.”

  Noah’s cracking up. He knows I like to get in and out before I get noticed. This could be fun though, so I decide to fuck with her a bit.

  “That’s fine. Just know the longer you take in your happy place, the more risk you take of being labeled the new mystery woman in Sawyer Weston’s life.”

  “True dat,” Darren says as he enters the bus. “Paps love giving Sawyer fake girlfriends.”

  “Please, I can handle the media and fangirls. Let’s go.”

  It’s dark outside. These trips are always best done under the cover of night. I toss on a baseball hat and my sunglasses, and we meet Mac outside. Princess turns to me and smirks.

  “Who are you, Corey Hart?” And again, she slays me with her musical references. “You know … “Sunglasses at Night”?”

  “I know who he is, Princess. Are you a closet Corey fan?”

  She does a little happy skip as we walk inside, and she grabs a shopping cart. “My dad was, sort of.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I can tell it’s a touchy subject.

  “Do you actually need a cart? How much shit do you need to get?”

  “Only a few things. I want to make spaghetti tonight. Will you guys eat it?”

  My stomach growls at the thought, and she smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes. What do you need to get?”

  “Snacks mostly. We need some more cookies, and we can never have enough Pop-Tarts. Plus, when they stocked the bus I guess they were out of my regular coffee, so I’m going to see if they have it here.”

  “Shit, I hope someone didn’t lose their job over that mistake.”

  She’s serious, and I stop in my tracks. “I’m not an asshole, I just look like one. I’d never fire someone for something like that.”

  Pausing, she turns slowly and faces me. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. I’ve seen people fired for less.” She places her hand on my arm. “Seriously, it wasn’t a slam at you.”

  I shake it off, ignoring the heat that lingers where her hand was. “It’s cool. Now you know my secret. Just don’t tell anyone, the asshole thing is my specialty after all.”

  “My lips are sealed. Come on, let’s get shopping.”

  Less than five minutes later, Mac has a crowd of girls at his back. Okay, crowd is a loose term, but there are about three girls following us, and they’re annoying as fuck.

  “I’d love to get a picture with him.”

  “Screw a photo, I want to birth his babies.”

  “Who is that skank?”

  When Mel hears those words, she surprises the shit out of me. “Watch the cart,” she says through gritted teeth and stalks back toward them. Mac looks at me with a questioning glance, and I hold up a finger so he’ll let her do what she needs for now. I should probably stop her, but I’m way too intrigued.

  “Ladies,” she says, pasting a smile on her lips, “I’m about to give you some advice. In the future, when you’re trolling celebrities, it would behoove you to text to each other. Nothing is a bigger turn off than hearing a stalker say she wants to have your babies.”

  “I’m not a stalker,” the ringleader cries indignantly.

  Mel turns her phone to the girl and reads from the screen. “Stalker. A person who harasses someone with unwanted attention. This has your name all over it.”

  Then she turns to the girl who called her a skank. “I’m not a skank, but I could be your worst nightmare. Smile for the camera.” Her flash goes off and, satisfied with the results, she shows her the photo. “Amelia Greyson, author and official storyteller of the up-close-and-personal book BAD is releasing next year. I’m not a skank, but if you don’t high tail it out of here in about thirty seconds, your photo will appear in the chapter that discusses all the skanks who troll them on the road.”

  I’m about to piss my pants. Mac is as amused as I am. I can’t believe the guys are missing this shit. “Lastly, you,” she says, pointing to the shy girl with them. “Do you have a phone with you?”

  She nods, and Mel holds out her hand. “Let me see it.” Reluctantly, she passes it over, and Mel faces me. “Hey, Corey, you up for a quick selfie?”

  “Sure,” I reply, unable to hold back my smile.

  “Get over there, and lose the glasses, Corey.”

  The two pissed-off girls are whispering among themselves, wondering if my real name is Corey. And the shy girl stands next to me awkwardly.

  “Come on, sweetheart, let’s make it a good one.” I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her close. We both smile as Mel snaps the photo. As she gives the phone back, Mel pauses.

  “Thank you for not being obnoxious. It’s not easy to pop into a store and buy stuff to make spaghetti, but when people have boundaries, it makes it easier to want to do nice things for them. Hopefully, your friends have learned a lesson for next time.”

  She spins on her heel and resumes her journey to the food section muttering under her breath, “If I don’t get some spaghetti and some wine before I have to put another bitch in her place, I might lose my shit.”

  Which is precisely why Mac and I start grabbing what we need as we follow her. I don’t know who this girl is, but I’ve never wanted to be someone’s friend more.

  After dinner, we’ve filled the guys in on our Target adventure, and they’re laughing hysterically. It’s been a long time since we’ve had this much fun together. Later, when I go to my room, I have a text message waiting for me from Belle.

  Slammed Chick: Are you taking care of my girl?

  Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s taking care of us.

  Slammed Chick: That doesn’t surprise me in the least. She’s good like that. I just wanted to be sure she’s okay.

  Well, she just took down three fangirls in Target with her words alone. I’ve never seen anything like it, to be honest.

  Slammed Chick: OMG thank you for telling me that.

  Now I’m interested in talking to her more. She’s the key to Princess’s locked kingdom.

  Why OMG? I feel like you probably squealed and did a happy dance with that too.

  Slammed Chick: Aww, you know me already. Can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you.

  Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? I’ll remember that next time you interview me.

  Slammed Chick: FINE – Without saying too much let’s just say a bus full of rockstars was exactly what my girl needed to be true to herself again.

  I swear you speak in tongues. Does Darren realize that?

  Slammed Chick: Darren enjoys my tongue and all the things I can do with it. He seems to understand me just fine.

  Must be a match made in heaven then.

  Slammed Chick: Uh no. Not even. I’m happy for some fun but spare me all that hearts and flowers shit.

  Haha, a girl after my own heart. No wonder Darren likes you.

  Slammed Chick: I’m pretty irresistible but so is my friend. Make yourself happy and go chat her up.

  She’s already in bed. I’ll see her in the morning.

  Slammed Chick: Enjoy your morning chat over coffee. Later.

  Later

  I’ve got a smile on my face that could probably break world records. Princess told
her friend about our morning talk. Since Belle brought it up and mentioned tomorrow, it must mean Mel enjoyed it and we’re going to make it our thing, or a thing. Either way, I’ve never had a thing with anyone. I avoid repeat visits with all women at any cost. But Amelia isn’t just any woman, and for some reason, getting to know her doesn’t freak me out. The opposite in fact. I want to know everything—from her happiest memories to her biggest fears, and especially how she tastes when I make her scream my name with my tongue between her legs.

  Staking His Claim – Arizona

  It’s our first night in Arizona, and we don’t have a show. Usually, Darren and I would be out on the town, but he’s whipped by Belle and not interested in going out.

  “Sawyer!”

  “Darren!”

  “Oh my God, they’re soooo fucking hot!”

  “I’m pretty sure the inside of my thighs are wet. Want to check?”

  Darren laughs at the groupies and their usual enthusiasm as we walk through the lobby of the hotel. I’m sort of indifferent to it, but I usually am. I scan the crowd to see if anyone stands out to me, but they all look either too old or even worse, too young.

  Once we’re in my room, he plops down in a chair. “Is it getting harder? Or is it just me?”

  “I think that answer is going to depend on what is getting harder. If it’s your dick, it’s definitely just you.”

  “Shut up, asshole. For the record, it’s not my dick, although it will be later when Belle calls.” At my groan, he laughs and continues. “The girls, groupies, it’s not the same anymore. Is it because we’re almost thirty? Or is it because we’re kind of over it all?”

  “Both. Now that we’re almost thirty, we’ve done it all and are more selective. Either of us could go down there and point and have one of those girls back up here fucking both of us.”

  “Is it strange we don’t want to?”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m getting laid, but if you’re happy doing this strange version of dating with Belle, more power to you.”

  He looks down at his phone and then sets it on the table. “I really like her. She’s different than most girls.”