Twisted Wings

by Tina Saxon

I tilt my head, reading it again. “Who’s it from?” Graham asks, stepping up to my side. He reads it over my shoulder and I shrug.

  “I assume from Addie.” I’m not sure who else they would be from, and she’s always been lousy at poems. My eyes water from a happy heart. We visit at least twice a week on the phone and text all the time. I told her after the tour, I’m taking some time off to spend with her and the family.

  “Stop. That.” Graham points to my eyes and shakes his finger in front of my face.

  I blink back the tears. “I’m sorry. Everything is just so perfect. And it’s all thanks to you.” Pushing up on my toes, I lay a fat kiss on his cheek.

  “This is all you, sweet cheeks. I just pointed you in the right direction.” He peers down at his watch. “And now, it’s time for me to show you again. It’s time.”

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I squeal and dance in place; the excitement rushing through me. Preston Scout, the headliner, pops his head into the room. “Hey Sky. Good luck out there.” His deep twangy voice reminds me of home.

  My eyes twinkle over and I dreamily say, “Thanks.” He winks and leaves.

  “You need to stop that too,” Graham whispers into my ear. I slap him in the chest with the back of my hand, still staring at the spot Preston just left. I can’t get over I’m his opening act. “Okay, dreamy eyes, it’s time for you to shine.” He guides me by the elbow out into the hallway.

  “Oh, wait,” I stop, lifting my finger. “Be right back.” I rush into the dressing room and text Addie thanks for the flowers. She’ll worry I didn’t get them if I say nothing. I toss my phone back in the bag, take a deep inhale and exhale. This is it. My dream is about to come true.

  “Here’s to the first show going off like fucking fireworks,” Jay, my guitarist, declares, holding up a shot glass filled to the brim. My band and Preston’s band are all gathered in the green room, winding down.

  “And to Sky for killing it on stage,” Preston says. “I even heard some people chanting your name when I got on stage.” I almost fall off the arm of the chair I’m sitting on.

  “Shut up! They were not. But thank you.” I lift my drink and all the guys follow suit. I’m the only woman in the room and it surprises me. I always had these images of major partying with drugs and orgies going on in every corner backstage. I chuckle to myself when I glance around the room at all the guys sprawled out in their chairs relaxing.

  “Is it always this tame? After a show?”

  “Is our little wild cat looking to party?” Phillip says. Preston’s bass guitar player pours himself and me another shot.

  I shake my head fast and down the shot, the taste barely a burn. “No. I’m about to fall over dead from coming off my adrenaline rush. I thought… backstage would be… crazier.”

  “It can be sometimes, but not most of the time. If we want to party, we’ll go find one before taking off on the buses,” Preston explains. Everyone continues to inform me what I should expect the rest of the tour. I soak it all in, feeling out of my league. One minute I’m fainting on stage and the next I’m on tour with one of the hottest country music singers.

  I will kill whoever wakes me up from this dream.

  “So, Sky… inquiring minds want to know, are you single?” Chaz, Preston’s drummer, asks.

  I awkwardly laugh when all eyes turn on me. I can’t tell them my fiancé died last year and now I can’t stop thinking about his best friend so I keep it simple. “Yes.” Chaz opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “But, I don’t date people I work with.”

  He flashes a wicked smile. “Who said anything about dating?” Preston smacks him upside the head. “What? You can’t blame a guy for trying. Look at her. She’s hot.” He waves his hand in my direction and I can feel the blush of heat on my cheeks.

  “She was trying to be nice and tell you she doesn’t want your ugly ass,” Preston jokes. They burst out laughing when Chaz flips him off.

  I’m picking up my dressing room, packing everything when I see the flowers, reminding me about my text. I bet Addie texted me back. When I find my phone in my bag, there are a few text messages, but I scroll right to Addie’s.

  Addie: I wish I would have thought to send some, but those aren’t from me. I can’t wait to live vicariously through you. Love you!

  Hmm. If they’re not from Addie, who could they be from? They’re not from Graham, so that eliminates everyone that I would label my best friend. So weird. I answer my question when I continue reading the other texts, sort of. I stare at the text from a number I don’t recognize.

  Unknown: You should say thank you for the roses. Xoxo

  I lean against my vanity, debating what to do next. On one hand, I want to thank whoever gave me the roses, but the whole thing seems off. Who would demand a thank you through a text?

  Shane comes to mind that he might want to screw with me? He is not going to kill my excitement tonight. I’ll deal with this later.

  Walking onto the bus, a mixture of leather and pizza greets me. The sleek modern living room has orange leather seats and shiny metal accents everywhere. The band rushes in and plops down on the seats, digging into the pizzas, like a pile of ants on a sugar mound.

  A few months ago, most of these guys were strangers to me, but now, I consider them my brothers. Tug lets out a long belch and my face twists in disgust. Okay, maybe the bus life won’t be the most exciting part of this life. Sleeping with seven guys in a small confined space, I’m dreading the smells.

  Oh, god. The smells. I wave my hand around, struggling not to gag, pulling my shirt up over my nose. “Seriously, y’all?”

  “Sorry,” Jay, the drummer, blurts out. “Beer and pizza are the worst.”

  “Don’t make me ban pizza,” I quip through my shirt, getting up and heading to the back of the bus where there’s a sitting area that converts into my bedroom at night. I grab a slice of pizza and glare at Jay as I pass him. He shrugs, a smile plastered on his face.

  Shoving the curtain closed so the land of smelly men can’t reach me, I pull in a deep breath of fresh air.

  My drained body protests as I transform the sitting area into a bed, but rejoices when I lay down. Movement from the bus gliding over the road rocks me to sleep. I barely register the first trill of a text, but when it goes off again, I grab my phone to mute it so it doesn’t wake anyone else. I peek at the time—three a.m.

  “Rule eighty-nine on a tour bus, turn your phone on silent at night,” Jay slurs from outside my room.

  I peek out the curtain, and even though I’m staring at closed up bunks, I whisper, “Sorry.” I crawl my way back up the bed and touch the face of my phone. It lights with a text from the same unknown number as earlier. Unease rolls through me as I read the text.

  Unknown: You need a lesson in gratitude.

  The phone slips from my hands onto the bed and I stare at it, becoming instantly awake. Silence, except the hum of the road under the tires surrounds me. I focus on the phone, expecting another text to come through, but it eventually fades to black. My mind races with thoughts of who it could be. Again, Shane comes to mind. I don’t know what happened to him after they fired him and I don’t care. I’m certain the narcissistic ass holds me responsible. Falling back into bed, I sigh loudly and my gaze darts to the curtain, waiting for someone to say something.

  The next hour, I toss and turn, my mind not shutting off. I give in and take a Benadryl, having brought them just in case I had trouble sleeping on a bus. It doesn’t take long for my body to become heavy, like it’s sinking into quicksand. I don’t fight the fatigue, rather welcome it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sydney

  “I need a new phone,” I mutter to Graham while having our mid-morning call. He’s already at the next city, in a hotel room. I’m lying on my bed. The Benadryl hangover is strong.

  “Why?”

  He doesn’t need to know about the texts. I already feel like a burden with the Shane situation. I’m nothing but drama these
days.

  I dramatically sigh into the phone, the lie rolling off my tongue. “My aunt decided now that I’m famous, I’m worthy of her time, I guess.”

  He grumbles. “She’s not worth the gum I stepped in today. Which, by the way, took me an hour to get out of my Gucci loafers.” I sip on my Red Bull. I might need two of these. He continues to tell me about how he got the gum out and how inconsiderate people are. Finally, he finishes, redirecting his attention to what started this conversation. “Okay, I’ll have a new phone by the time you guys get to Phoenix.”

  “Thank you.” We go over my calendar for the next week. In between concerts, he’s set up more radio station interviews. I groan. “I hate when they talk about my personal life.”

  “I’ll reiterate to them they are not to ask if you’re single.”

  It won’t stop them. That’s what the people want to hear about. It’s annoying that everyone is so invested in my dating life, then it’s almost inevitable I’m asked out by the time I walk out of the studio. Not without trying to back out a couple times, I agreed to go on a date a few months ago. One of Tristin’s friends, whom she said was perfect for me. He was nice. But it seems nice isn’t my type anymore. That’s all I used to date, the artsy guys, in college. My taste has changed, thanks to Max. I need someone to take control of the date, not ask me five times where I want to eat. After going home that night, I decided I don’t have time to date.

  With my new phone in hand, I glance around the locker room, transformed into my dressing room. I imagine the gorgeous football players walking around in their towels after a game. I don’t want to admit how many times Addie and I tried to sneak into the Cowboy’s locker room when we were in high school. Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture and send it to Addie.

  Me: I finally did it! Minus the hot naked guys, ha!

  Addie: Oh! And I’m missing it.

  As I’m typing out a response, another text comes through.

  Hulk: If you’re looking for hot sexy men… I can show you the way. Why new phone?

  A blush spreads over my cheeks, tingling sensations strike my core. How does he do that? We haven’t talked in four months and any other guy would say that and I’d laugh them off. I wish I could turn off the visceral reaction my body has whenever Max speaks.

  Addie: Sorry! Aiden is sleeping on the couch tonight since he can’t keep his eyes off my texts. We’re at Max’s. Lulu wanted to ride the horses this weekend.

  Me: LOL. It’s okay. Tell Lulu I said hi.

  I hop up on the director’s chair, staring at my reflection in the mirror. A response to Max comes to mind. The thought sends a mischievous grin to my lips. What’s the harm in a little flirting? I light up my phone again, opening Max’s text.

  Me: Certain family members decided I was worthy, and I said hot NAKED guys.

  Graham slaps his hands together from behind me, the sound echoing in the silent room, making me jump. I glance up from my phone and spot him and Zoe, my makeup artist, in the mirror. “Well, isn’t this lovely?” He walks up next to me and does a quick scan around the room. “Large and comes with its own gorgeous sweaty man aroma.” I pull in a deep whiff and shake my head, not smelling anything. Thank god for small miracles.

  “Sky, ready to get this party started?” Zoe says, laying out all her brushes.

  I snap my fingers, swaying from side to side as I belt out the song “Get the Party Started” by Pink until Graham covers my mouth with his hand. “Save your voice for the stage.”

  I scowl at him, pushing his hand away and sing the intro to “Shut Up” by The Black Eyed Peas.

  Zoe laughs under her breath. “Don’t encourage her,” Graham sighs. I could do this all night. My phone dings in my lap, halting the song next in my mental playlist to piss off Graham.

  I gasp at the image.

  “Well, hello,” Zoe purrs over my shoulder.

  Graham looks down. “Oh my. I just had a heart palpitation.”

  I slowly nod, licking my lips as I stare at the picture of Max in nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. My eyes roam over his hard muscular body to his fingers holding up the towel. The slight upward curve of his mouth, flashing a sexy smirk, sends butterflies fluttering in my lower belly. Places tingle to life that haven’t in months.

  “Dayuum,” Graham mumbles in my ear, holding his hand to his chest. My thoughts exactly.

  “You know him? That’s not just a picture of some model?”

  Graham snickers. “She knows him. Very well. You’re a stupid, stupid girl.”

  I slap him on the chest, finally able to pry my eyes away. “Be quiet.”

  Despite my head reminding me why it’s a bad idea, my body is revolting, remembering how that body heats me up, those fingers had me on fire and that mouth destroyed me. Two and a half years, you’d think I would’ve forgotten, but the buzzing going on down south, it feels like last week.

  I cross my legs, trying to ease the ache building and fan my face. My phone buzzes again and I glance down to see it’s another text from Max. I hold the phone to my chest and both Graham and Zoe whine.

  “Y’all, what if he’s…” My words trail off.

  He’s sending these texts to me, not knowing I have an audience. And I don’t want them to see him naked. I’m not gonna lie though, I kind of do. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man. It’s not like I don’t fantasize about Max already. This will be a refresher.

  “Exactly,” they both say together, loudly.

  I shake my head at both of them, sliding off the chair leaving the grumbling behind me. When the coast is clear, I open the text.

  Hulk: One second from being naked. Ask me again.

  I swallow back the desire burning inside my throat. My fingers hover over the keyboard itching to type yes, please. I peek at his picture again. Nope, this is enough for my sexual desire to blow up. Seeing him naked, on display for me, will only bring regrets.

  Me: So, you’re assuming I think you’re hot?

  Hulk: lol. Touche

  Hulk: Thanks for killing my ego.

  Me: As if that was possible…

  Knowing no one will see naked Max, I return to my chair. The horny duo is at my side instantly. “Sorry guys. No dick pics.”

  After makeup, Graham walks out with me to the meet and greet. Preston joins us right before we step outside. Cheers erupt, hundreds of fans scream our names. Goosebumps pebbled my skin. This never gets old. I wave my hands as we make our way to the table set up for us. A young girl, standing on the metal railing, has my face planted on her shirt and when we make eye contact, her emotions get the best of her and her eyes water. She reminds me of myself at that age when I went to my first concert, N’SYNC. I glide over and give her a hug.

  “O-o-o-oh my god,” she cries. “I love you, Sky.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Isabelle,” she says, her voice reaching a high octave. It’s a good thing because it’s hard to hear over all the screams.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Isabelle. Wanna take a picture?”

  She almost drops her phone, handing it to her dad. He shakes his head, smiling at his daughter. He doesn’t get it, but that’s okay. He’s a great dad for bringing her. We take a quick photo before I’m whisked away to do the same thing for two hours. It’s still hard for me to believe I have fans. People pay to come see me. I always make it a point to be there for them, one hundred percent. Even when they tell me about their dogs humping to one of my songs.

  “If they have babies, let me know.” I smile, autographing a picture of her dog.

  “You have an hour,” the concert manager yells down the corridor as Preston and I head back to our dressing rooms. As much as I love the meet and greets, it’s draining. You’re in the spotlight, and your switch is on the entire time. I always take this time to turn off, decompress. Writing songs, or writing in my journal helps me get back in balance. I open my notes app on my phone to see where I left off on the song I
’ve been working on.

  “That looks tragic.” I look up from my phone, following Graham’s gaze. I freeze when I notice the dozen black roses on top of my makeup station. “Who gave you the death roses?”

  “They are not,” I snap, hoping someone just thought the color was cool. Graham strides over to them, plucking the card off the long stem plastic holder. His eyes widen and they lift to meet mine.

  He waves the card in the air. “What in the hell is this?”

  “What’s it say?” I wince, walking over to him, afraid my suspicions are correct. He holds it out for me to read.

  Roses are black

  Violets are blue

  Who’s an ungrateful bitch?

  It might just be you.

  ~Your enemy

  I let out an awkward laugh, pinching the card out of his fingers. “Someone’s just playing a stupid prank on me.” Panic flickers in my chest, rattling me at the core, obliterating the confidence I had this person was no longer an issue. I turn away, but he blocks me with his arm.

  His gaze hardens as he towers over me. “Sky, I’ll ask you one more time. Who sent those?”

  I swallow the panic clawing its way up my throat. “I don’t know.” He narrows his eyes. “It’s the truth. Remember the flowers I got at my first concert? From my best friend?” His head bobs up and down. “Well… after the show, I received texts from the person who sent them. They were expecting a thank you. It was weird, so I just ignored it. Then while on the bus, I got another one. It said maybe you need to learn a lesson in gratitude.”

  “Is that why you wanted a new phone?” I drop my head in shame. So much for handling it myself. “Sky, I need to know this stuff. Especially when someone is threatening you.”

  My eyes jerk up to his. “That’s a little extreme, G.” There hasn’t been an actual threat. Right? Whoever it is, they’re just trying to scare me. “They’re probably all talk. I mean, don’t all musicians have to deal with crazy fans?” I throw my hands in the air.