The Now or Never Kind

Beethoven’s fifth symphony. Probably one of the most prolific pieces in the history of music. Its first movement opens with a four-note motif, traditionally played allegro con brio, which means brightly with vivacity.

It also happened to be the ringtone for my parents.

Danny and I both jerked awake at the combination of loud violins and a vibrating battery against the dresser. “Sorry,” I whispered, half rolling over and fumbling to make it stop. He blinked heavily and shut his eyes, tightening his arm around my waist and leaning his forehead against my temple. “Hello?”

“Hi, Angie!” my stepmother Mackenzie’s overly chipper voice greeted. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Yeah, you did,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. I squinted at the clock radio. “Why are you calling? It’s like seven in the morning there.”

“Summer school. So how are you?”

My eyes, which had been drooping sleepily, opened and rolled in annoyance. “Mackenzie, I was sleeping. Can’t this wait until later?” Danny grumbled beside me, and I slipped my hand over the receiver. “I’m really sorry.” In reply he planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Why not now?” she asked relentlessly. “You’re awake, and I have work soon. Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

“Because you or Dad only call me on tour when something terrible’s happened,” I explained slowly to keep myself from getting angry. “And I was sleeping.”

“Well, you never call period!” Mackenzie snapped back. “How are we supposed to know if you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere?! How do we know you’re not actually some rich man’s housepet?”

I sighed. I’d had enough of this. “Because our album’s sold thousands of copies, and if you’d ever listened to it, you’d know why. Now I’m hanging up because I’m in bed with a very sexy man and talking to you is keeping him awake.” I snapped my phone shut and tossed it away, turning and curling into Danny’s shoulder.

Danny laughed, hands running up and down my back. “You’re so nice,” he commented sarcastically.

“Nice is reserved for people who don’t fuck with my sleep pattern,” I muttered, eyes shut.

“So why are you nice to me?”

His breath swelled warm over my face, and I smiled, curling a piece of hair behind my ear. “You should check your bruises, love,” I murmured wryly, “I’m not exactly nice to you.” After a pause, I opened one eye.

Danny had that smirk on his lips and that glint in his eye. “I don’t mind,” he encouraged before kissing me. I moved my hand to his cheek, feeling the scratch of overnight stubble, and twisted his hair around my fingers.

I breathed a deep sigh as his hands roamed my skin. “Do we have any condoms left?”

He chuckled, leaving a line of kisses down my throat and onto my shoulder. “I think we used them all.” His head flopped back onto the pillow, and he smiled at me.

“Calamitous.”

We did, eventually, get up and get dressed since we had plans during the day and a show to play at night. The process of getting dressed was filled with lots of appreciative (and lewd) comments, though. We righted the lamp one of us had kicked over and made the room look essentially the same as it had when we’d arrived the night before.

Danny gave me a long, lingering kiss. “See you later, beautiful,” he whispered and strolled out of the room. I sat down on the bed, smiling stupidly to myself. I couldn’t say why, but Danny just made me feel… good. Even if he was teasing me for being weird, he made me smile.

“It is so not fair.” I blinked, shaking myself back into reality. Beth and Didi had returned to change their clothes, and the latter was staring at me with her hands on her hips. “I am the only one of us not getting laid and I have to watch you being so lost in your afterglow that you don’t even notice us walk in the room!”

I exchanged glances with Beth and grinned. “Well, we are hanging out with Every Avenue today,” I reminded cheekily. Didi’s cheeks flushed and she retreated into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I stretched my arms over my head and flopped backwards onto the bed. “Besides, you’re not supposed to get any action on tour.”

“Most people don’t,” she reminded, brushing out her hair. “But then again, most people aren’t only sexually attracted to musicians.”

“The fact that the three guys I’ve had sex with are musicians is a complete coincidence, I assure you.” It wasn’t my fault I didn’t know anyone else anymore.

We had, by serendipity alone, managed to be in the same city as our friends from Michigan on their day off. Our tour had a show tonight, which I was pretty sure they were attending on our guestlist slots, so we agreed to meet for late lunch/early dinner. And it seemed like the only thing they ate, from what they and Didi told me, was Mexican food.

The Audition and Every Avenue had toured together before—plus the latter and Danny all had a lot of Detroit-suburb pride—so there was already brotherly love there; not surprisingly, they had a lot of inside jokes, including something about crumbs, which just confused the fuck out of me. My boys were friendly enough to make friends with anyone, though, so the slight awkwardness that began the meal was soon forgotten.

Aside from the constant amusement of jokes and jibes, I couldn't keep the grin off my face due to Josh and Didi. They were kind of awkward (in general) but they couldn't keep their eyes off each other, especially when the other wasn't looking; it was cute to watch, because they were obviously so happy to see each other, but didn't want to show it.

In the middle of Jimmie and I discussing the benefits of guacamole versus sour cream with spicy salsa, Seth interrupted, "So wait, you guys know each other? How the fuck?"

I chuckled, leaning my elbows on the table. "Put simply, the tall one here can't walk," I explained, aiming a thumb at Josh, "And I don't look where I'm going."

"Which is so smart in New York City," Jimmie added sarcastically.

"Well, at least I landed on something soft!" Josh said, laughing.

"I have been told my boobs are like Tempurpedic pillows," I joked with a straight face, pushing up my boobs to emphasize my point. I grinned at the rest of the table. "So I have that going for me."

Didi cocked her head at me as she laughed. "What the hell?"

"Oh god, don't even ask." I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Trust a musician to come up with that simile."

It was a throw-away line I hadn't expected anybody to question. I mean, come on, boob jokes were commonplace—if not expected—on tour. Who better to throw one out than I? Truthfully, I'd completed forgotten I'd said it by the time we got back to the venue, what with all the merriment. Two sets passed before I was reminded.

"Hey." I looked up from my phone and smiled at Danny, who was on his way towards the stage. "What did you mean earlier?"

I looked at him sideways. "Earlier?"

He raked a hand through his hair, eyes roving the hallway in search of anyone coming. "When you said a musician compared your boobs to pillows," he elaborated. "I said a lot of shit last night, but I don't think that was one."

I smiled down at the floor at the reminder of last night. "You did," I agreed, nodding. "But that was my ex-boyfriend." Ryan had said a lot of weird shit too, but most of it was less endearing than Danny.

"Your ex is in a band?" Danny had a strange undertone in his question, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. So I simply nodded. "Oh." He didn't look at me; his eyes veered off to the side, full of thought.

Then somehow my mouth moved faster than my brain. "Yeah, seems to be a common trait with me." Which was true. I just wasn't sure why I'd mentioned it. Somehow thinking of Ryan led straight to thinking about Bill; they were on the same level in a way.

Danny focused on me, surprise now mixing into his expression. "Guys in bands?"

I half-shrugged, a little uncertainly, in admission. "All the guys I've slept with have been in bands."

"All the— so do you do this a lot?" he asked, sounding incredulous and a little angry. "You just pick a guy on tour to sleep with?"

"Hey, I am not some tour slut or groupie," I retorted defensively. "I'll remind you that I just said I dated one of them. For two years, as a matter of fact!"

He stepped back, nodding in disbelief. "One of them," Danny repeated hotly. He set his eyes on me again, burning blue infernos. "And how about the others? What did they mean to you? What did I mean to you?"

"Are you serious? Is that what this is about?"

"Don't dismiss me! I'm trying to figure out if I'm just another one in a long line of—"

"Oh, fuck you!" I snapped angrily. "Look at you, acting all high and mighty! I've only slept with three people in my entire life. How many girls have you fooled around with, Danny? And yes, on the road counts!"

He rolled his eyes, disdain shining brightly through his exacerbation. "This is ridiculous," he declared, shaking his head.

"Now who's dismissing whom?"

We glared at each other, stubborn and malicious. "I have a set to play." With that, Danny stormed away towards the stage, and I whipped my head away to stalk in the other direction. I had to warm up.

My warm-up ended up being me pacing back and forth out back, fuming and trying not to scream at the top of my lungs. How dare he accuse me in such a way? Who was he to indict me with any wrongdoing? Of what consequence were my past relationships to him?

When the time came to go onstage, I had calmed down a bit, though I was still angry at Danny. I felt I had that right! But I shoved it away when I picked up my bass and grinned as I walked out into the lights and chorus of cheers and applause. I didn't want to deprive the kids who had come to see us play of an amazing night just becauseDanny Stevens was an asshole I was in a bad mood.

I did a good job of ignoring or forgetting my problems during songs, smiling and playing my parts when the time called for it. However, in between numbers, I had to turn away from the audience when I wasn't talking, unable to mask the way my face drew.

Suddenly a new thought pushed its way through the wall of hate: the phone call from my stepmother that morning. As I'd said, she only called if something important (and usually bad) happened. I'd pushed it aside in a moment, wanting to focus more on sleep and Danny, but with both of those stymied, I immediately began contriving possibilities.

Had someone been hurt? Was there a problem with our house? Had a car gotten totalled? Were we in extreme financial distress and couldn't bail ourselves out? Was it all my fault?

With every thought my heart raced faster, but it wasn't until the last that I realised how fast I was breathing. My vision was beginning to blacken at the edges, and the room swam.

I swung my strap over my shoulder and rushed away from the lights, pausing to clutch Sean's arm before thrusting my bass at Didi. "Stall," I gasped, feet already moving.

Dizzy and hyperventilating, I stumbled through the dark backstage, thoughts whirling in my head. I couldn't make them stop. I couldn't breathe. I collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor, laying my head against the cold floor.

Just make it stop.

"Angie!" My head jerked up, though most of my body was shaking uncontrollable. Aromi rushed to me and grabbed my shoulders. "Angie, look at me! What happened?"

"I—I—" I gasped loudly, tightening my fist around his sleeve. When did I start crying? Why am I sobbing?"C-can't—"

"Hey, need some water over here!" he shouted down the hall. Aero turned back to me, eyes wide and pupils dilated. "Angie, I need you to take deep breaths," he counselled, rubbing my back. "Can you do that for me?"

One of the tech appeared with a bottle of water, which Aero quickly tore open and handed to me. I snatched it out of his hands and tilted it up at my lips, nearly choking when I did so. "Easy, easy!" He guided my hands on the bottle, slowly letting me drink. "Small sips," he said soothingly. "Deep breaths."

After a long time I stopped breathing so fast, only an occasional hiccough racking my chest. I leaned my head back against the wall; I could feel cold sweat crawling down my skin, mixing indecipherably with the tears on my cheeks. Nothing made sense to me. Why had I run off the stage?

"Here, drink some more," Aromi ordered gently, pressing another bottle to my lips. I drank gradually before sighing and shutting my eyes. "You okay now?"

"Yeah," I croaked, putting a hand to my head. My eyes flashed open. "Shit! The set!"

I tried to scramble up, but my manager pushed me back down. "Angie, relax! The boys can handle it!"

Aero made me sit there for another few minutes before letting me stand and walking me back to the stage. I stopped just outside of sight. "My makeup's probably all fucked up now," I laughed weakly.

He smiled. "Actually, you look beautiful," he replied. The guys, onstage, had noticed my return and, being between songs, announced my arrival. I took my bass back from Didi, who watched anxiously as I made my way across the stage.

People cheered, and a few girls in the front asked if I was okay. I smiled and stepped up to the mic. "Well, that was weird. Sorry about that."

"We played an old song," Matt informed me in his microphone. I glanced back at him; he looked worried. Not really surprising since Matt worried about my health a lot. "And we were gonna cover Queen but couldn't decide on the song."

"Maybe we should do that anyway," Jesse suggested.

"I think we should," I agreed, taking off my bass again. "But you're playing bass. It's too big for me to deal with right now."

"That's what she said," Matt pointed out.