by Joey Bush
After all, I was with the band, right? Wasn’t it all supposed to be free love? Wasn’t is all supposed to be attachment free, guilt free? Everyone always says that you're only young once. They say you have to go out and live while you’re young. They say to have a wild and crazy time while you still can.
But it seemed that maybe that was all just an illusion. Maybe people were always going to hurt each other even if there was never intention of more than having a good time – just like Owen had hurt me. Maybe I had hurt him, too. I doubted that was the case, but I supposed it was possible. After all, I hadn’t told Owen the reason I was avoiding him.
Part of me didn’t feel as though I owed him a reason. Part of me just didn’t want to face him. Instead, I had simply been choosing to leave the room whenever I could if he was present. Not once had I given myself any opportunity to be alone in case he decided that he wanted answers.
And considering all the phone calls, I was guessing he did. I knew if I found myself alone with him, he would demand an explanation for what had been going on and I would probably cave and give it to him.
What I was most concerned about was saying too much, giving more than just a reason. My feelings had become too involved, too raw, and too painful to be able to explain. And while some would call me a coward — and maybe they would be right for doing so — the fact was that I simply couldn’t do it. I couldn’t find the words without revealing my true feelings for him.
So, with this in mind, I had done the only thing that I knew to do – I cut off all direct contact with him and then avoided him as best I could. I admit, I harbored a slight sense of shame for my behavior, but it was outweighed by anger and disappointment when I thought back over it all. Of course, what could I really do?
“They’re fighting!” a voice called from the side of the stage, pulling me out of my mental turmoil of thoughts and emotions.
I looked up to see Jay in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. “What? Who’s fighting?”
“Owen and Talon,” he said, slightly out of breath. “They're fighting! Totally going at it, fists out, knock down, drag out! We have to do something!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I blurted out.
“Wish I were,” Jay fired back.
Great! I thought as I hurried toward the door Jay was holding and then on to the smaller stage where they were practicing. Brothers fighting was all we needed. If this made its way onto social media, it would mean an even more massive workload for me, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain why the two brothers who were famous for being such great friends were getting into fist fights with each other.
I hurried to the stage and climbed up, gasping at the sight of the two brothers rolling around on the floor, each trying to block the other’s punches. I had never seen either of them so red faced and full of anger, and they definitely looked as if they could really beat the hell out of one another.
Looking up at the group, I pointed to the mess of jumbled up limbs and couldn’t believe no one had managed to break them up. “Somebody stop them!” I commanded.
If one of them got hurt this close to the end of the tour, it would be impossible to find a replacement. Not to mention, it would mean the entire tour would end disastrously and most likely totally ruin the success we had accomplished up to this point in time. I mean, how do you replace the lead singer of a band in the middle of the tour?
A few of the stagehands grumbled, but dutifully stepped in. And after a bit of swearing and scuffling, they eventually succeeded in pulling Owen and Talon off of each other, though it did take a few attempts.
I immediately stepped in between the two brothers as Talon rose from the floor, his shirt ripped in more than one place and a cut across his forehead bleeding. Owen didn’t look any better, his white t-shirt dirtied with flecks of blood, his lip cut, swollen, and bleeding.
“What the hell are you both trying to do? Destroy this band and absolutely ruin the rest of the tour? Can’t you two manage to keep it together for one more night? Is that really so damn difficult to do?”
“He started it,” Talon grumbled like a five-year-old who had just been caught fighting on the playground.
“Shut the hell up,” Owen growled, his eyes narrowing at his brother. “You fight like a pussy.”
“Just quit it, both of you,” I announced loudly, securing the attention of everyone present in the otherwise empty stadium. “Stop acting like a bunch of damn elementary school kids fighting over who got picked last at kickball and just get it together, for Christ’s sake. If you don’t, I swear to God I will call off this concert tonight, and then I'll leave you two to deal with the pissed off fans.”
They both stood silently staring at the stage floor.
“And, which one of you dumbasses is gonna pay for my busted guitar?” Jeremiah asked from the wings of the stage, holding up his guitar in two pieces held together only by the strings.
Owen sighed loudly and raked a hand through his hair. Our eyes collided and a painful reality hit me head on. There was hurt, anger, and sadness staring back at me, and I knew right away that it wasn’t all directed at his brother.
It was a stab to the heart, but what could I do? I had seen the way that girl had kissed him in that photo, and from where I was standing, it didn’t appear as if he hadn’t done a single thing to stop her. Hell, he had probably been sleeping with anything he could get his hands on – including me, of course.
The thought wounded me more than anything. The last thing I had expected was to get emotionally involved, but that’s exactly what had happened. Now, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't control how I felt. Even after washing my hands of it and avoiding Owen and whatever it was that we’d had together as best I could, looking into his eyes scared me to death.
“Let’s just get back to practicing,” Owen finally said, tearing his gaze away from mine. He turned to Jeremiah and inhaled sharply, his shoulder slumping in defeat. “It was my fault. I’ll buy you a new guitar later, Jeremiah. Right now; sorry, man, I guess you'll just have to use your backup. We do have a gig to play in just a few hours.”
Seeing my out, I stepped off stage and walked out into the stadium where chairs had been positioned for the highest paying concert goers. The stage hands picked up the tumbled drums and put them back into place then everyone took their respective positions. They launched into one of their ballads as I sat down on a chair, watching as they performed.
Unfortunately, the song they began to play had always been one of those that got to me. The way Owen sang it was soul wrenching and, at that moment, it was stabbing at my heart more than usual. His voice worked its way through what felt like every vein in my body, filling every hurting corner of my soul. When his eyes met mine, I was forced to look away from him, afraid that I would burst into tears at any moment. He owned that stage just like he owned my heart without even trying. Damn him.
I somehow made it through the rest of the set without losing it. When they were done, I watched as Owen stalked off the stage without another glance in my direction. It shouldn’t have bothered me. After all, that was how I had planned for it to be. I just hadn’t accounted for how much it would hurt to know that I was done with him.
Talon walked my way as I stood to go, blocking my path. “You’ve got to talk to him.”
I rubbed my arms with my hands, warding off the coolness I felt. “What?”
“This...this whatever you had with my brother, I don't know how you want to classify it, but whatever it was, you have to talk to him about it. He’s being a total dick to everyone, and I, for one, can’t take it anymore. I mean, look at the shit that's just happened!”
“That’s not my fault,” I shot back, aware of the anger glowing in his stare. I wasn’t about to tell him that his brother was a total douche. He probably already knew.
Talon took a step toward me, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, this is your fault, Nalia. God, you really are totally blind to how he feels ab
out you, to how much he cares about you, aren’t you? The man has been sleeping by himself for the last month, right down the hall. And when he’s not sleeping, he’s in a mood that, frankly, I’m sick and tired of. So, quit dicking him around and wrap this, whatever it is, up with him. Sort it out, and stop avoiding the damn issue.”
Hurt and angry, I pushed away from him. “Do you have any idea what he did? This is not my fault! Quit sticking up for him! If he cared about me at all, he wouldn’t have…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
Talon looked at me for a moment, recognition dawning on his face. “Shit. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Tears blurred my eyes and I stepped around him, not wanting him to see me cry. Yes, I was in love with a man I couldn’t trust, a man I couldn’t have. I was so done with this entire business, with every one of these assholes! I couldn’t take another minute of dealing with it all. They could pull another woman out of the crowd tonight to be their assistant, because I was through.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Owen
I cracked my knuckles and flexed my hands — anxious, angry, and nervous all at the same time. My hands were aching from my stupid ass altercation with Talon earlier in the day. They hurt to the point where I’d had to soak them in hot salt water to relieve some of the pain. Now, the pain and the aches were coming back, but I fixated on it to keep my mind off of what was about to happen.
From my vantage point, I could see the packed stadium and hear the roar of the crowd as they waited anxiously to watch us perform. While the scene normally jacked me up and got my motor revving, tonight it put me on edge and stirred a building force of anxiety within me. What I couldn’t figure out was why.
Behind me, the stage was a buzz of activity, the guys running through their last-minute checks or warming up their voices before we would be stretched thin for an hour or two. I wished I could just find a quiet place and think for a moment; my thoughts were still dwelling on how Nalia had marched in and taken control of the situation earlier today.
It was the most she had spoken to me in over a month. Seeing her hadn’t brought on the reaction I had expected. My heart had fucking ached like an invisible knife had been stabbed into it repeatedly the entire time I was near her. And even though she had been pissed at the time, I had wanted nothing more than to drag her off stage and kiss her senseless in a corner somewhere until she started talking to me again.
I didn’t understand what the hell was going on, and she was refusing to talk to me, so she wasn’t telling me anything. It was maddening, and it had been tearing me apart from the inside for more than a month now. My whole world had been stuck in a crazy cycle of irritation, anger, frustration, uncertainty, and hopelessness the entire time. And even though I was always able to push it out of my mind for the few moments that I was on stage, the rest of the time there was no way to escape the awful feelings that swirled through me.
Did I mention it was maddening? But at least I had the stage. At least I had some form of escape for a little while.
The lights dimmed, and I took in a deep breath, preparing for the performance. The screaming from the dark amphitheater grew louder. Typically, I enjoyed this moment. It was usually like the moments just before the roller coaster dips into a one hundred foot drop. That moment where you know the rush is coming and you can’t wait for it to begin.
Tonight, I couldn’t totally say I was amped up to do this. In fact, I was just looking forward to the moment where I walked off stage, when it was all over. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to walk on stage; I just really wasn't in the mood. And that scared me.
“Ready?” Talon asked, slapping me on the back as he stepped up next to me. Though we hadn’t officially put our differences aside, we were brothers and brothers fought from time to time. It wasn’t the first drag down we’d had, and I doubted it would be the last.
“Ready,” I lied.
He shot me a grin and walked out from behind the curtain, followed by the rest of the guys. I caught a glimpse of the cut on his forehead as he turned to smile at me. It had been cleaned up, but it was still noticeable and I immediately felt like the ass I knew I was. A pang of guilt shot through me. I had been a total asshat for taking all of my built up, pent up frustrations out on him.
I’d been an even bigger dick for not having had the decency to properly apologize for it. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. We had to a show to play at the moment, whether I was ready to step on stage or not.
I shook the tension from my arms, rotating my neck a few times to loosen some of the tightness there. It was show time. I activated my mic and ran out onto the stage, the crowd screaming in a frenzy, the lights of their cell phones and cameras flashing left and right.
“What’s up, Florida!” I yelled as the guys launched into the song we always opened with. “Are you ready to do this? Are you ready to rock?!” It was my typical concert opening line, so I tried to sell it even though I knew it fell a little short of my usual enthusiasm.
They screamed back, and I grinned, sliding my gaze to the wing where I knew Nalia liked to stand even though she was avoiding me. It was like she knew I couldn’t just run off stage and force her to talk to me. But she wasn’t there. The spot was empty. Intense disappointment washed over me with its bone-chilling certainty, and even the roar of the crowd couldn't do anything to lift my spirits when I saw the empty spot.
Nearly missing my cue, I caught it just in time and started to sing, the weight of her absence as heavy as a rusty anchor dragging itself across the sea floor. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t possibly be so mad at me that she wasn’t going to support the rest of the guys. The thought that she might have left scared me shitless.
I tried to focus on the songs, but I was on autopilot; my thoughts kept swirling around the fact that she still hadn’t shown up to keep an eye on things from the sidelines. She couldn’t have just up and left. We hadn’t even discussed whatever it was that had happened between us.
Somehow, I made it through the songs without screwing any of them up. It certainly helped that the crowd was one of the better ones we had performed in front of in a while. For that, at least, I was grateful. As I started into the last song, I focused only on the top deck, hoping Nalia was listening somewhere, hoping she was somewhere that she could hear the words and the way I sang the ballad.
Earlier, she had been a distraction when I practiced it, but this evening all I could think about was her — wishing she was sitting there listening once more. I had hoped she was going to be my saving grace. But she wasn’t there.
“Encore! Encore!” the crowd screamed as I finished the final notes of the last song, knowing that our set was complete. I gave them a smile and a wave of my hand and walked off stage, just like we always did, so that we could catch a breather before launching into two more songs.
“God, those people are amazing tonight! They've really got me all revved up!” Talon announced. “I totally feel like I could play another full set right now!” he remarked as he grabbed the towels we had placed backstage, or rather that Nalia had placed there for us. The thought of her had me scanning the wings again, looking for her face, even if it was an angry one. I just needed to see her.
When I didn’t find her amongst the sea of faces, I grabbed a stagehand who was walking past. “Hey, have you seen Nalia around?”
He looked at me a little confused, like I should have known something I clearly didn’t. “Dude, she left right after you guys went on stage.”
I let go of his arm. “Thanks,” I said as all of the fight left me. I couldn’t go back out there and pretend that everything was okay when my world was on its side. “I’m done,” I announced to surprised looks from the rest of the guys and the staff close by. “No encores tonight.”
“But, it’s our next-to-last show for this tour,” Talon said, frowning. “Why wouldn’t we do an encore?”
“Because I just don’t fucking feel like it,” I gro
wled, yanking my mic off and walking away, not caring what they thought. “Fuck the encores. You guys can go out there and jam an instrumental if you want, but I'm done. I can’t do this tonight.”
I needed to find Nalia.
The private car ride to the hotel was excruciating. I checked my cell phone a dozen times; each time ended with my thumb hovering over the button that would dial her number. I was afraid I wouldn’t get her or that I would get her and not know what to say. What would I say? This was a serious Catch 22 moment. Any blind man could see there was something wrong between us, something much more than just her not wanting to see me anymore.
As I rode, I fantasized that she just wanted to surprise me back at the hotel, to make up for whatever had been going on for the past month. But deep down, I knew that couldn't be the case. I wished it were; it would have been beyond amazing if it were. But, I knew in my heart that it couldn't be. Still, the thought raised a flare of hope just fantasizing about the possibility. I prayed it was true, needed to hope that it was true. But I knew better.
The car pulled up to the front door, and I hopped out. For the first time in my career, I walked in ignoring the fans gathered there as I made my way inside. Nalia was the only thing on my mind. I hurried upstairs and pushed open my hotel room, still half expecting to find her standing there, that small smile on her face. Instead, I found an empty room, no different than I had left it. Dammit.
With a heavy sigh, I walked over to the bed and plopped down. The flashing indicator on the phone caught my eye. A message. There were never messages in the hotel. A funny feeling attacked my stomach as I picked up the phone and pressed the button. The moment I heard Nalia’s sweet voice filling my ear, I wasn’t sure if I should smile or throw up.
“Owen,” she began, her voice not breathless like I had heard it in the past when she said my name, “by the time you hear this, I will have already headed for home. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I’m not cut out for this and, obviously, my presence is causing more of a distraction than a help, so I think it’s best that I go now. I want to thank you for the opportunity again.” She paused, and I felt a glimmer of hope, hoping that she would say something about us and not this business-like response she was giving me.
