The Now or Never Kind

“I hate airports and airplanes and baggage and crappy food and people!” Beth grumbled. We were standing around baggage claim in John Wayne airport, waiting for Didi’s flight to come in; we’d retrieved all our personal items and instruments and resigned ourselves to people-watching, since that was the only thing to do.

“Wasn’t she supposed to land by now?” Jesse asked, fingers idly playing with her recently-very-blonde-again hair. The rest of us had moved a safe distance away from the pair when Beth arrived, unsure of whether they would kill each other or eat each other’s faces off. Either way, we didn’t want to be witnesses.

I pulled out my vibrating phone and checked the text message I’d just received. Holy fuck these people are so slow! “She’s on her way,” I announced.

Sean looked over my shoulder at it and snorted. “Well, you’re not alone in the hate, Beth.”

Aromi bounced in his seat. “I am sooooo excited,” he said, wide grin plastered to his face. “I love Didi. And I love you!” he added when Beth pouted. “And I love touring! Why has it been so long?”

“My bad?” I apologised, confused.

“It’s Tom’s fault,” Matt said. It’s kind of a long story.

“Everything is Tom’s fault,” Beth agreed. It's kind of a really long story.

“Who’s Tom?” Didi asked, stopping beside us. “What’s his fault? What is going on?!”

I grinned at her. “Oh, just the usual madness, don’t worry about it.”

Once we gathered up all our shit, with the convenience of large carts for the equipment and merch, we packed it all into a hired van that would take us to the meet-up spot. The back of the trailer looked like someone had been played too much Tetris when we’d finished.

“Why does it feel like forever since we’ve played a show?” I asked, not turning my eyes away from the ceiling to focus on anyone in particular.

“Because our last show was before your graduation,” Matt reminded.

“And we’ve been busy,” Beth added with a subdued smile. Apparently she and Jesse weren’t completely obliterated. Well, that was good. At least one of us was happy. I had decided on my first night in the apartment, when naturally I couldn’t sleep, that I was swearing off guys for a while, especially musicians.

The van dropped us off in a large parking lot out back of the next night’s venue, where two tour buses were parked. The guys unhinged the trailer from the van and we ladies watched them pull it behind one of the buses.

“It sucks that we have to sleep on different buses,” Didi stated as the guys tried to figure out the best way to hook up the trailer.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter,” I replied. “We’re going to be jumping ship so often it won’t matter whether we’re on the band bus or the tech bus.” I snickered at Jesse and Matt, having gotten into a dispute and the former pulling the latter into a headlock-noogie combo.

“Lucky you, rooming with eight guys,” Beth commented snarkily. I stuck my tongue out at her. “At least Didi and I have each other to terrorise.”

“Speaking of people to terrorise.” Beth and I turned to see to whom Didi was referring and discovered that some of our tourmates had arrived. They looked pretty much like you’d expect musicians to look like: dudes in jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies shlepping stuff out of their van. One of them had a wicked fro, of which I approved highly.

My blonde counterpart suddenly grabbed my arm, and—knowing her—I immediately saw who’d caught her attention. “Shoulders,” she announced quietly. “And arms. And possibly a jawline.” Not to mention long, blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and a smile bright enough to see from where we were standing.

Didi whistled while I watched my band introduce themselves. “Wow.”

I tilted my head; Aero was gesticulating as he talked and then pointed in our direction. My heart pounded as he strolled over. I let out a gusty breath, trying to be stealthy in memorising his face. Bright blue eyes, full lips, a bit of scruff… “Fuck me gently,” I muttered. After a moment, I blinked and Didi and Beth turned to me. “Wow, that was vulgar.” We all laughed, me more nervously.

“You’ve said stranger things,” Beth comforted, patting my shoulder.

The subject of our fascinating whispering stopped in front of us, wearing a grin.Take me now? “Hey, I’m Danny,” he introduced himself.

I stuck my hand out to shake his. “Hi,” I replied, grinning back. “I suddenly can’t remember my own name.”

He chuckled. “I have that effect on people. Especially girls.”

I took my hand back, dropping back into reality. Smothering a smirk, I exchanged wry looks with Beth. “Lead singer?”

“Lead singer,” she agreed.

After the other guys joined us—I repeated everyone’s names to myself several times to help remember them—we decided to grab some food and get to know each other. On the walk over, I grabbed my manager by the arm and hissed, “You didn’t tell me he was pretty!”

Aromi laughed. “I thought you’d look them up when I told you about the tour!” he argued. He grinned wickedly. “But he is gorgeous, isn’t he?”

I glowered up at him. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Me?” His eyes widened innocently. “No! If you want to take a vow of celibacy at eighteen when you’re going on tour and surrounded by hot men who’d gladly wait on your every whim, who am I to stop you?”

“…I hate you.”

Beer and pizza. Welcome to tour, I told myself as the other end of the table argued about what toppings to get. Once I poured a glass from the pitcher of MGD—I’m not a huge fan, but the boys seemed to love it—I mostly kept to myself and observed, occasionally making small talk with Joe Lussa and Beth.

Trust me to only talk to the bassist.

I watched everyone talk, examining their mannerisms and ways of speaking. My boys and the Audition got on like a house afire immediately, our table easily becoming the loudest in the restaurant. I didn’t really follow what they were talking about, just how they did it. I learnt more about them that way.

While Seth and Beth were comparing Warped Tour versus a regular summer tour—they were heading back home after this to write—I noticed that Danny was watching me rather than talking. I arched an inquisitive eyebrow over my glass, and he winked before turning back to Sean.

Luckily that meant he missed me choking on my beer. It was just a wink! I exclaimed in my head, pressing a napkin to my mouth and waving Aromi’s attention way.

Yeah, but it was a really sexy wink.

You stay out of it!

By the end of dinner, we’d gone through four and a half pitchers and decided to stumble back to the buses and get more drunk. Well, the guys decided to get more drunk; Didi and Beth decided to get some sleep (it was almost midnight and we had been travelling all day). But even musicians are a teensy bit responsible sometimes—there’s a laugh—and after a while, every decided to head to bed.

I changed in my bunk, got all my shit settled, and lay back under the covers. It was surprisingly quiet inside bus bunks—the heavy curtain blocking us off from the rest of the bus helped—though since I was on the floor, when we started moving going over bumps would be murder.

Badly paved roads. Speed bumps. Weird how some places called them humps. What a strange word, hump. Sort of brassy even without innuendo. With innuendo…

I turned over, wondering what the hell I was doing. I was trying to stave off from sexual activities and persistent thoughts certainly wouldn’t help. “Jesus, I sound like a fucking sex addict,” I whispered to the wall.

I checked the time on my iPod and shut my eyes. 1:17. Don’t think about sleeping. Think about rest. Calm rivers babbling over rocks.Beds rocking against walls. The wind whistling through trees.Moans of ecstasy. Rain against window panes.Water slowly sliding down skin.

Annoyed, I opened my heavy eyes and checked the time again. 2:36 and I was wide-awake. Well, an hour’s better than nothing, I thought, pulling on some pyjama pants and quietly rolling out of my bunk.

The bad thing about having insomnia was how exhausted I was all the time and my propensity for having random impromptu naps throughout the day. Luckily we had a tour bus, so I didn't have to worry about falling asleep behind the wheel and killing us all. But it still meant I would have to drink coffee and tea and—blech—energy drinks to keep myself awake during the day.

My sleep cycle was going to be so fucked up this tour.

The good thing about insomnia was that when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, I had the bus to myself. I could read without interruption, and listen to whatever music I wanted without complaint, and I could write. I wrote a lot in the middle of the night, though I usually kept it to myself. Occasionally during our various brainstorming session, I’d throw Sean my notebook and say, “Pick something.”

That sounded much less pompous in my head.

I was sure that the guys were suspicious of these out-of-nowhere pages of lyrics. They almost never saw me writing. The truth was, they had no idea my sleeplessness was a regular thing. Sure, they knew that I had trouble sleeping the first few nights of tours unless I stayed up for a day before we left, but we all did. New surroundings, unfamiliar bed.

Well, except Jesse. Trill could sleep through the Apocalypse.

I pressed skip my iPod, returning to a song for which I was beginning to learn the lyrics. I’d found a copy of the Audition’s latest opus and imported it to Jesse’s laptop, which conveniently had their first album, and both of them onto my mp3 player. Overall, they were impressive and delightful, but my suspicion that Danny was an incredibly honest guy proved true.

One listen to “Hell To Sell” told me that.

When I settled again, I looked down at my notebook. I’d written down two rough drafts of songs, snowballing off some of the lyrics I heard and how they made me feel. Except I had to censor about half the thoughts that came up, either for self-efficacy or sexual content.

I licked my lips. My mouth was über dry, and we hadn’t stocked up on drinks yet. Luckily though, there was a 7-11 across from the venue. I slipped on my new Vans—red with swirls and a woman in black and gold— grabbed my Matches hoodie and wallet, and crept out of the bus. When my feet hit the cement I zipped myself up.

Fuck you, LA. You’re supposed to be warm. Even at 3 AM. But I had the armour of cotton I’d bought off Shawn’s merch guy against the lanky singer’s will. Silly man, you can’t give me free merch just because we toured together.

Warped seems like years ago, I thought to myself, checking both ways down the abandoned street as I crossed.

I squinted at the bright fluorescent lights and flipped up my hood before heading down an aisle. The man behind the counter stared after me, bored. I wandered back and forth for a few minutes, perusing my options of crap food that I most likely would regret eating later.

As I stared blankly at the shelves of cookies, Pop Tarts, and other assorted evils, I vaguely noticed the tone indicating that someone had come in go off, but I was too busy weighing the pros and cons of banana nut muffins in cellophane packaging. With a sigh I decided that I was better off with whatever we got tomorrow and some juice and turned to the drinks. Unfortunately there was very definitely a solid person beside me. Luckily I didn’t scream; I just jumped and knocked over a few can of Pringles.

“Cazzo!” I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest.

Danny tilted his head at me, looking confused. “What?”

“It means fuck,” I explained, crouching to pick up the cans I’d knocked over. “As in, come fucking help me.” He knelt beside me and began stacking. My eyes darted over to him a few times, fixing on him pushing his loose hair back. Dammit, not another one who’s hot with glasses. “What, did you follow me?”

“I was hungry,” he said promptly as we both straightened up. I cracked up, eying him sceptically. Danny grinned. “Nice get-up, by the way.”

I looked down at myself, my too-big plaid pants, hoodie, and tank top, and looked at him: white v-neck under an Every Avenue hoodie, skinny jeans, black and red checkered Vans.

I raised an eyebrow. “You bothered to put on actual pants?”

Danny laughed richly. “Well, I can't be wandering around in my boxers,” he said with a wide smile. "Not when there are beautiful women around."

“All of whom would be more impressed if you weren’t wearing pants,” I mused jokingly, passing him to grab myself a soda.

“Likewise.” He laughed, picking up a tube of chips. I smiled to myself as I opened the refrigerated section. He was a sweetheart and a smartass. I like it!

We met back at the counter and each paid for our munchies. “So what are you doing right now?” Danny asked as I fished through my wallet.

Guitar pick in my mouth, I blinked wide eyes at him and handed the man two dollars. “Buying juishe?”

He smiled wryly. “I meant, why are you up?”

“Well you should have said that, now shouldn’t you,” I chided lightly, taking my drink and shoving my wallet back into my pocket. “I can’t sleep.”

“You can’t sleep, or you don’t sleep?” Danny asked, clarifying.

I smiled at him as I walked out into the dark night. “Oh, you’re a clever one.” I twirled around and walked backwards through the parking lot. “Why can’t it be both?” I sipped my juice and grinned at Danny, looking at me a little confused but like he enjoyed my company. “What are you doing right now?”

“Walking with a weird redhead to my tour bus.” A group of loud, raucous men rounded the corner and started whistling and catcalling. “Hey.” Danny slung an arm around my hip and led me across the street, away from the lurid things being yelled.

“Thanks,” I muttered, opening the bus door.

“No problem.” We both took off our shoes and stuck our wallets in the left of the pair. Weird, I thought I was the only one who did that. “I would’ve thought you’d be used to that.”

“Not when it’s the middle of the night in Los Angeles.” I threw myself onto the couch. “Usually I’ve got safety in numbers and security.” Danny sat down next to me, tucking one foot under his leg. “You’d be scared too if a bunch of fangirls accosted you in the dark.”

He chuckled. “They’re a lot smaller though.” He considered me silently a moment, like he had at dinner, and my stomach fluttered, hoping he’d wink again. Which within itself was ridiculous. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

“How so?”

“Well.” Danny stretched his legs out into the aisle. “From your videos, I thought you’d be… girlier, I guess.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I have no clue what deluded you into that thinking,” I said dryly. “I’m always one of the guys, whether we’re home or not.”

“Except for the deep v-necks,” he corrected, smile playing at his lips. “And short skirts. And sitting around the bus at 3 in the morning without a bra.” I immediately felt incredibly self-conscious and pulled the zipper up to my clavicles. Danny chuckled. “That is not gonna help, baby.”

My stomach panged again. Good god, stop being so charming, I pled. “If I put on a movie, will you shut up?”

He laughed. “Maybe. What movie? You’re probably more interesting.”

I hopped up and dived into the bag of DVDs we’d collected for entertainment. LOST, Dexter, Clerks… “Fight Club?” I asked, holding it up. He shrugged, and I took that as a yes, so I wandered over to the big plasma screen on the wall. I paused as I took it out of the case and turned around to find Danny looking at me curiously. “Maybe not Fight Club.”

“Why?”

I bit my lip, quickly thinking of an excuse other than ‘The sex scene will drive me crazy and you’re really hot and I’ll maul you’.” “I’ll have weird dreams about people covered in blood.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at me, probably in disbelief, but let it go. Instead I put on “From Russia With Love.” It’s hard to find a person who doesn’t like James Bond.

“So, Mister Danny Stevens,” I said, sitting back down and making myself comfortable. I didn’t actually have a question, but once he looked at me expectantly and I panicked. “Er… do you… uh.” I squinched my face up, thinking. “Have a girlfriend?”

Chuckling, he slouched farther down so he could put his feet up. “Not really,” he replied, popping open his can of Pringles. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering how someone could ‘not really’ have a girlfriend. “Well, there is this one girl in Toronto who comes down for a lot of shows… but we’re just sorta friends with benefits.”

I nodded, glancing over at the opening credits. “So… she’s your fuckpuppet.”

Danny laughed heartily. “I like that. I’m gonna use that.” I beamed at him and tightened the lid on my juice before setting in on the floor. “D’you have a fuckpuppet?”

“Noooo,” I replied emphatically, shaking my head. “No, no.”William doesn’t count. “My personality can’t handle casual sex.”

“Serial monogamy?” he suggested, looking interested.

I shrugged. “Eh, not really serial.” I searched for a good way to explain, and in the meantime simply held eye contact, but came up with nothing. I smiled. “It’s… difficult to explain.”

Danny nodded. “Alright.” We both turned back to the movie and said nothing else. I couldn’t help glancing over at him a few times, curious. He was one of the few people I’d met who didn’t press for deeper conversation.

I think I kind of liked it.