Page 84 of Down Beat
THIRTY-ONE
Rey
“I’m Not Sick but I’m Not Well” – Harvey Danger
Kendall stares at me from her spot perched on the barstool at the kitchen counter. I lean my ass against the edge of the sofa, arms folded, and eyeball her in return.
Bitch doesn’t trust me.
Tabby crosses between us, fussing as she packs a bag or two to bring on the tour. My hands ping with pins and needles—the need to reach out and snag her to prove that Tabby belongs with me, intense.
“How long will you be gone for?” Kendall asks as Tabby wanders past, boots in hand.
She pauses at her friend’s question, and turns to look at me for the answer.
“We have four weeks left.”
I need another smoke already—this bullshit seriously pushes me to my limit. Yeah, so I walked out on the guys. Fuck it. It was either get my ass over here for a mental health break, or they could have dealt with the fun that would have been covering up my utter breakdown mid-set.
I’m done with this shit: done with the pressure, and done with the constant rush, rush, rush. Done. I want to slow down. I crave a week somewhere without the goddamn internet so I can find my fucking Zen or whatever the hell it is people do when they go recluse.
All I know, is I’m done with people. Give me a month in solitude with my guitar, and I’ll give you five new tracks. But force me to play when I don’t want to, force me to pretend that everything is honky fucking dory, and I swear to God the press will have a field day with the fallout.
“What about the music you were working on, Tab?” Kendall holds my eye as she calls out to her buddy.
Kitty’s voice carries from her bedroom. “I’ll still work on it.”
“What music?” I ask, suckered in hook, line, and sinker.
Café Girl snarls as she looks me head to toe before answering. “Tabitha has a career too, you know.”
Damn thing is missing in action, if you ask me. “I said I’d talk with Wally about getting her exposure, so your point is?”
“Does this really help her? Or your ego? Do you honestly think you can come in here and demand she drop everything for you?”
“I asked nicely, Kendall. Used my manners, and all.” I scowl at her.
She pulls a face at me before storming off in kitty’s direction. The girl’s loyal—I get that. But it’s not as though I strong-armed Tabby into coming with me. I may have laid on the charm a little, but that was out of sheer desperation, not ill intent.
I need the woman like I need air to breathe.
Without her I suffocate, and unless anybody has some handy tricks on how to sing when your lungs are void of oxygen, then the only way I’ll make it through the rest of this tour is with my safety blanket beside me: Tabby.
“Just drop it,” kitty hisses under her breath as she enters the room sans Kendall. “What time is our flight?”
“6:00 A.M.”
Her lips twist as she jerks the zipper closed on the duffle in her hand. “You think there might be somewhere close to the airport with a free room?”
I frown at the frantic little thing. “Why?” Doesn’t she want to stay here? “What happened to pizza night?”
Her gaze cuts to the hall before she leans in to whisper. “Let’s just say things are a little chilly in here.”
“Gotcha.” Things are damn near arctic with that buddy of hers around. I check the time on my phone, ignoring the notifications on the lock screen. “There’s literally eight hours until we leave. It’s not long enough to worry about a room somewhere.” As much as I’d love that alone time to pet my sexy little pussy. “We can crash at the airport if you really don’t want to stay here.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Why? Because I’m supposed to be handled with fancy white gloves?”