Playing Russian Roulette.

To feel free
Like the weight’s gone from my shoulders
From the top of the world
And I can finally breathe.

-Valencia.

Outside, the air was thick with laughter and excited anticipation. Teenagers and young adults littered the green expanse of grass just outside the venue, laying out on blankets and passing around food and bottles of water, talking loudly about the list of bands playing in just a couple of hours.

Tour buses lined the large parking lot across the street; three other buses were jammed into the venue’s front along with ours. The merchandise tents now sat along the grass to the left of the concealed stage. Their signs read their names in bright, overzealous letters.

A sign across the road blinked out a neon number eighty. The temperature had finally let up, answering my prayers. With the lessened heat, I could look my best when we went to catch up with some bands.

Inside, things weren’t much different. The excitement level was all the same, the laughter between Stefan and me just as loud. Music blared from a small radio on the counter; the dull sound of the shower running meshed with Kenneth Nixon’s silky voice.

My mug felt warm in my hands as I stared with Stefan out the window. Steam rose from the dark liquid, the heat brushing across my face. Ghost heaved a heavy sigh from where he lay comfortably on the couch, taking a nap.

Stefan dumped his empty mug into the sink. “What band are we interviewing?” He opened a cabinet above our heads and withdrew a Tupperware square and a plastic, portable mug.

I gave him a questioning look. He jerked his head toward the bathroom, where Devin was still in the shower. “I’m bringing him coffee and candy. Do you really want him being bitchy from lack of caffeine and sugar around the bands?”

I shook my head. No, I did not. And neither would Rachel, our lovely boss.

“Anyway, interviewing!” I took a small sip of my coffee. The hot liquid slid down my throat, and a smile fluttered to my lips. “I’m thinking about interviewing the boys. Craig said he wanted to be one of our interviews, so why not our first?”

Stefan shrugged one shoulder, pouring the remainder of the coffee from the pot into the mug. “If they want to…”

I grinned.

“And if you want to.” He turned a stern look at me. “Remember how you acted with Max yesterday? You can’t do that on camera. Not if we want to keep this job.” He seized my wrist gently in his hand. “Try to at least act civilized toward him.”

My smile diminished, evaporating along with all the happiness in my body. I carefully sat my cup on the counter. Knots collected in my stomach.

Try to act civilized toward Max. Try.

As Stefan started dumping cookies into the Tupperware container, my thoughts went back to the previous night. To the fun I had with Robert, Bryan, and Craig, while Max sat at the dinette table with Devin and sulked.

I had doubts whether or not I could do it. Just the thought of…talking to him made me nauseous on several levels. Talking. Holding a decent conversation with him after I convinced myself I never had to again.

The previous night, I noticed myself smiling and laughing. The actions almost felt foreign to me. And, then, I woke up thinking something was wrong. I felt lighter; it was easier to breathe. Mornings as lighthearted as that hadn’t been around that often. Since high school or the first few months of my relationship with Ronnie, at the latest.

When times were simple and I woke up looking toward to the day ahead.

Those such days went extinct with the first time I woke up to a drunk Ronnie’s phone call in the late night. Since then, I woke up feeling much older than my physical age. Drained of happy thoughts and necessary smiles.

But today had been different.

And if I had to feign like toward Max everyday, those mornings of pure exhaustion and hatred and dread would come flooding right back.

Even though I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I didn’t think he had changed at all. He would have spoken to me, apologized for his actions while we were in the same bus together, but, no.

When the boys left to go back to their own bus sometime around midnight, he left in silence, like he had remained the entire night.

He was still the same.

So why did I have to change my view on him just because I wanted to have this job? It frankly sucked.

“I’ll…I’ll try,” I finally answered.

Stefan’s doubtful look made me cringe.

“I swear I’ll try! On my life, I will try to be nice to that…spawn of Satan. I swear.” I giggled at the name. Spawn of Satan. Haha. It sounded so fitting of him.

“What do you have against him?” Stefan stuffed the container into his backpack, along with my microphone and Devin’s camera.

Shock -- and anger -- passed through me. Stefan knew what Max did to me, knew of the violent fight that ended all ties between us a year ago. He had been on the stairs in my and Ronnie’s house at the time; he had been the one to pull me out of the situation after I punched Max and nearly broke his jaw.

He had been the only witness to the greatest and worst day of my entire life…

“I have everything against him,” I muttered. “He made my life hell, and you know it. Why should I forgive him that easily?”

“Because I think he’s changed.”

“You think,” I shot. I headed into the hall to my bunk area and snatched my bag from the top. Rifling through the contents, I removed a pair of faded blue jean shorts and a green zebra print t-shirt. I yanked my tank top off.

Stefan leaned against the stove, staring at me. He eventually broke the dank silence hovering between us.

“You could have kissed someone worse, Piper.”

I stopped, my shorts pulled halfway up my legs, my torso still bare all except my bra. My gaze turned to stare at him and I was vaguely aware of the angry tears forming behind my eyes. I looked away from his concerned face.

He was wrong. I could not have picked a worse person to kiss on that night a year ago. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to! Kissing Ronnie was a better decision.

But I remembered how it felt, standing in the dim lighting at the bottom of the staircase with Max’s hands on my face and our lips over top each other. His hair brushed my cheeks; his body pressed against my chest.

I remembered how my heart raced. My fingertips tingled as they thread through the luxurious, soft locks falling to his shoulders. His lip rings felt cool against my scorching mouth. How he had tasted so sweet.

And the beautiful moment had been shattered when we broke away and he stormed toward the front door. When I grabbed his hand and pulled him back, he told me to let go…The words shared after that still stung…

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“So, you kiss me and then just leave? Why? I…I thought you…liked me.”

“Ha! Like you? I could never like you, Piper. That kiss meant nothing.”

“I hate you!”

After that very untruthful statement was spoken, what little friendship we had vanished. At that moment, the fight grew violent with Stefan as witness. I didn’t remember Max hitting me, but he might as well have.

I threw the last blow, almost breaking his jaw and completely breaking the two of us apart.

I blinked away my tears, yanking my shorts the rest of the way up and buttoning and zipping them. My hand grabbed my shirt.

“Piper, I’m sorry,” Stefan’s meek voice said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” I donned my top and stalked to the front door, grabbing my bag on the way. “I’ll be waiting at the merchandise tents. Come find me when Devin is ready. Bye.”

He might have said something in response, but I already jumped off the bottom step and slammed the door behind me, cutting off any further conversation. I probably overreacted just a little. Stefan didn’t mean it; he would never purposely hurt anyone’s feelings.

I knew this for a fact. That didn’t ease the hurt, though. The thoughts still stung violently and I couldn’t push them from my mind. What Max did was unforgivable. That kiss and his words went beyond all the evil things he said to me before that night, and I would never, ever forgive him.

But I promised I would be civil with him. And I would. I would speak when he spoke to me. I would return smiles and gestures, but nothing beyond that. Striking conversations, acting like he was an old friend were off the list.

I deserved a life of my own. I deserved happiness after being a pushover for years, and the feelings I had for Max would simply have to be cast aside.

I wouldn’t love him, I wouldn’t even like him.

He was simply an attractive guy that I had to spend a few months in the company of. Nothing more. Nothing more.

Whether it was because of the heat or my anger, sweat began making my shirt cling to my waist. I glanced around. Upon spotting the sign reading “Merch Tents This Way”, I walked calmly toward it, still fighting tears and anger.

I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets.

Various people turned to stare at me. A few even said hello, apparently recognizing me from meetings that I didn’t remember, and I responded with a quick reply and hurried away. I didn’t feel like talking beyond that.

The previous light feeling from this morning disappeared altogether. I longed to have it back. For the brief few hours I had it, I felt like I was getting me back again, the me from high school before I dated Ronnie. The me before I stopped communicating with the boys.

I bit my lip.

Juliet is finally growing up. Robert’s voice echoed through my head. He was right. I was finally growing up, out of my juvenile attitude about everything in life.

I spent four years caring for someone else, spending all my attention on people who didn’t deserve it. It was time for me to break free of that, to take care of myself and no one else. Myself needed work. My anger and my emotions.

I…had time to work on myself…for once.

A smile came to my face.

I had no idea where these thoughts were coming from, but I was eternally grateful for them. I got to work on myself, altering myself back to the person that Devin and Stefan remembered. The happy-go-lucky, carefree wild girl that the name Juliet had been given to.

The merchandise tents were in two rows, creating a tunnel where fans flocked. Laughter filled the air, giving it a sense of the carelessness that I wished to have again.

The light feeling returned just as quickly as it had left.

I spotted the Ethos Water tent. A few people were already there.

I hurried over to it, saying hello to the happy people calling out to me. On my voyage, I ended up giving high fives to three boys and a hug to a girl who worse a Free Hugs sign over her neck.

It was fun. And Warped would be the perfect environment to get myself back into commission. With all the happy people, Escape the Fate, the music.

Perfect.

I slipped in front of the young girl inside the blue and white tent. A big one dollar sign hovered above her head. “A dollar for a bottle?” I asked, smiling.

She nodded. “That’s right.”

I handed her the intended amount, and she dove into the back of the tent to a collection of ice filled coolers. I rested my hip against one of the metal poles holding the tent up, laying my hand on the table.

“Juliet!”

I glanced to my right, where the voice had come from. Through the crowd, I spotted Gabrielle walking closer to me, wearing a pink denim miniskirt, white cowboy boots, and a tight blue t-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a curly ponytail. Leila was cradled on her hip.

I waved.

Wow. She was really coming over to talk to me? After scampering off so suddenly yesterday? I shook the notion from my head and flashed a toothy grin as she stepped up beside me.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning.” She pushed a curl from her forehead, breathing heavily. “I was coming to talk to you, actually.”

How special. My upper lip twitched. First on the agenda of fixing myself: stop being harsh to people! She hadn’t even done anything to me, and I was thinking sarcastic, bitchy things about her.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” I asked.

The Ethos Water girl returned with my water, her arm extended out over the table to hand it to me. I took it, smiling. She glanced at Gabrielle. “Would you like some water? The proceeds go to helping Africa.”

“Two, please.” Gabrielle took out a few dollars from her back pocket and handed them over. The girl disappeared toward the coolers again. She turned to look at me. “I came to apologize for yesterday.”

Yesterday? For running away, more than likely.

“Why?” I asked anyway.

“I ran off like a complete prima donna. And we didn’t even get to know each other.” Gabrielle smiled. She saw my doubtful look. “I just think, for the boys sake, that we should get to know each other and be friends. Besides, we’re the only girls on this tour, between your friends and the band.”

She had a point. Our estrogen had to counteract their flaming testosterone. Otherwise I would probably go insane listening to the constant talk of boobs and butts and sex and other things that men thought were fun to discuss.

Gabrielle might be my saving grace during the tour. That would be…nice…Nice? Was that the word?

“Yeah, I agree.” I took a quick sip of my water. “We’ll have to spend time talking about girl stuff, or one of us will end up killing one of the boys. A girl can only listen to the incessant talk of sex for so long.”

Gabrielle shifted on her feet, lowering her head. I replayed what I said in silence. Had I said something wrong? I thought my words were the truth.

For the sake of our impending friendship, I dug around for something else to talk about. The weather? Ha. The boys? No. That sounded like a bad idea. I glanced at Leila, her bright blue eyes staring at me.

There we go.

“Leila is a doll,” I said.

Gabrielle raised her head. Her sullen attitude changed immediately. “Mhm. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She is. She looks just like you.” I reached out and touched the little girl’s cheek. She shied away, giggling cutely. “How old is she?”

“She’s almost two.” Gabrielle grabbed the two bottles of water from the girl and turned to walk away. I fell into step beside her.

Silence fell again.

I knew what I wanted to ask. The question sat on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn’t sure if I should say it. Gabrielle might be offended. After all, certain people didn’t enjoy others prying into their personal business.

Leila reached her arms out toward me. I looked to her mother.

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

I gently took the little girl and placed her on my hip. Her smiled brightly. “Hi,” I whispered. “I’m Jay. Can you say that?”

She stared at me for several seconds, before saying, with surprise precision, “Jay!” I nodded happily, grinning and applauding her.

“That’s right!”

Leila shot a grin at Gabrielle. When I looked up as well, Gabrielle was off in her own world, staring out in front of her. A frown was quite evident on her face.

It was now or never.

“Are you and Craig dating?” I heard the words blurt from my mouth before I could stop them. My face flushed, and Gabrielle slowly moved her head to look at me, darkness swirling in her ocean colored eyes.

I regretted asking. I had no business in her personal life. We had only known each other a day! Not even a day, actually.

Her expression changed from angry shock to something I couldn’t read. She shook her head, looking away from me.

“He’s my ex fiancé.” Gabrielle raised her left hand, flashing a tattoo of a key with a heart on the end that was inked onto her ring finger. “We were together six years before we planned on getting married. He asked me to marry him after I had Leila, but we broke up weeks after we got these matching tattoos.”

So I had been right. And she still had feelings for him. He must not have noticed them, though I had no idea how. The way she said his name still shocked and intrigued me.

“It was his idea,” I guessed, turning my own eyes in front of me.

“Yes,” came the quiet answer.

And that was that. She fell silent, and I did as well. I briefly thought she was going to burst into tears and I would have to be some kind of marriage counselor or something. That did not happen, however.

Instead, Gabrielle took in a long breath and downed half of one of her water bottles in a mere few seconds. She stuffed it back in her leather hobo bag and shook her head, looking as if she was having thoughts of murdering someone.

She cleared her throat.

“How do you know the boys?” The question took me by surprise.

“They didn’t tell you?” I whispered, my eyes wide.

She shook her head no. It shocked me. They really never told Gabrielle -- or Craig, more than likely -- how they knew me? Had they even told them about Ronnie? Craig would have to know about Ronnie, of course.

But Gabrielle.

I twisted my blonde streak of hair on my index finger. I didn’t know how to go about answering her without digging myself into the dark abyss I was trying to escape.

I shifted Leila slightly. “I’m sure you’ve heard the horror stories of their other lead singer? The one in jail?” Didn’t I vow not to speak of Ronnie for the duration of the tour? Well. I was breaking my own vow. This sucked.

Gabrielle nodded. With a sigh, I continued.

“He’s my boyfriend. Err, well. Our relationship is kind of up for debate at this point.” I scrunched up my nose, running my hand through my hair. “I was dating him when the band started, and Robert and Bryan and I have been connected at the hip since.”

I saw her look sideways at me. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a line on her forehead, a crease between them of confusion.

“Monte and Robert?” she asked. “What about Max?”

“Max and I--” I chewed over what it should be called. “--don’t get along. We never have.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. We had never got along, but before the night of the kiss, we could at least stand being in the same room together. By a minimal degree, yes. Usually being in the same room ended in an argument or something of the like.

But that was beside the point.

And things were much worse now.

“Is that why you didn’t talk to him yesterday? At Starbucks, I mean?” Gabrielle sounded hesitant to ask.

“That’s exactly why.”

I had a thousand other questions to ask, and so did she. But before either of us could attempt to question and put answers to the thoughts that still floated through our heads, Devin and Stefan, flanked by a very excited looking Craig, burst through a group of shrieking teenagers and dragged us away.

X X X X

My eyes surveyed over the white piece of paper placed in my lap as I sat under the welcomed shade of a tent, leaning quietly against the back of my cloth chair.

The sound of The White Tie Affair singing on the stage mingled in the air loudly, along with the sound of cries and laughs of excitement from the audience.

Piper,

Devin has a handwritten list of the questions that I told him over the phone earlier. They’re all questions from ETF’s Buzznet page. I thought it would be fun to do that and see what their fans wanted to know.

For the remainder of the time, if you run out of questions, you can improvise. Good luck, Piper.

Dearest, Rachel.

Devin had shoved it at me when we arrived at the designated interview spot. Rachel e-mailed it to him when he sent her the news that we were going to interview Escape the Fate first. Apparently, we were carrying on the tradition of asking questions the fans wanted to know.

I surely had nothing against that. I was thankful, even. I sucked at thinking of questions on the spot. Well, questions that weren’t personal. I would probably have to look to Stefan or Devin for help if I got stuck, which was highly likely.

Especially if I had to direct a question at Max.

I sent a silent prayer to whoever was up in the heavens that such a situation would not happen. I would throw up…

Try to at least act civilized toward him. Shit. Civilized…Calling him the Spawn of Satan on camera was no considered civilized.

I could do civilized! Of course I could. The very least I could do was give it a shot. I hated him, but I loved this job and didn’t want to lose it.

“Hey, Dev,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder at him. He was bent on the ground, searching through his backpack for a second microphone. Stefan stood beside him, the camera in his hands.

“Hmm, Jay?” he mumbled.

“Do you have the other questions?”

“I do.” Stefan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notepad. He handed it to me, and I took it.

Devin let out a cry of success. His hand shot up, now holding the second black microphone. My own mic was sitting in my lap beneath the e-mail from Rachel.

I turned around to look at the band. They were sitting in their own chairs in front of me, watching me and talking quietly among themselves. Craig wiggled his fingers at me, and I cracked a smile.

Gabrielle and Leila had decided to go back to the bus for the interview. Thankfully, because I doubted if she would enjoy her ex-fiancé flirting with me. But, I had to admit, I enjoyed it a little. At this point I craved attention, and it wasn’t like Craig was a terrible guy.

He was cute. Incredibly cute, even. And he seemed so sweet and his talent went unchallenged, as far as I was concerned.

“Okay, is everyone ready?” Devin asked breathlessly, breaking me from my admiration. He sat down in the chair beside me, holding his camera now.

I lifted my mic from my lap and held the two pieces of paper tightly in my other hand. Stefan handed off the other microphone to Craig.

“Ready,” I stated.

The band echoed my answer, and Devin pressed the record button, turning the camera to face me. I plastered a smile to my face.

“And…action.”

“Hello, wonderful internet goers! I’m Piper Oakes, and you are currently watching my web series on Buzznet. I’m here at the Vans Warped Tour 2009, sitting with the wildly talented group of boys, Escape the Fate.”

Devin held himself a little further away, to get all of us into one shot. Stefan held the back of his chair to keep him from falling.

An excited chorus of “hellos” and “what’s ups” echoed from the band. I gave a half smile. It felt surreal, sitting at Warped with Escape the Fate, interviewing them…

My dream job. I sighed.

“How are you guys doing today?” I asked.

“Great!” Craig exclaimed with a laugh in his voice. “It’s the first day of Warped and we are stoked for our concert later.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. His eyes were gazing right at me. I looked down at my papers, making a face. I could almost hear Rachel saying, “Don’t fall in love with your client. That’s bad news.” Every one of my fellow female interviewers heard her say it quite often.

The rumor around the office was that she started dating the drummer in a band, and it had ended on a sour, devastating note. But it was just a rumor.

And it wasn’t like I was falling in love with Craig. Ha. No, thank you. After I broke up with Ronnie officially -- whenever that time came -- guys in bands were off my list. The drama wasn’t worth it.

Just another step in making myself a better person.

“Uh, okay.” I shook my head. “I have a list of questions from your fans.” I flipped open the front of the notepad. Scribbled words written in pen covered the page. I squinted my eyes, trying to decipher what it said.

“Alright! The first question is from Mandy77. She wants to know…” My voice trailed off. I had to start over. “She wants to know what you look for in a significant other.”

I saw a ripple of mischievous glints go through the boys up to Max, who bowed his head. There was smile evident on his face.

Craig answered first, lifting the mic to his lips. “Personality,” he said, shrugging. “And good looks don’t hurt either.”

Bryan came next. “I’m a butt guy.”

And, then, the microphone was passed to Max. He took it in his hands and looked directly at me. “I’m really picky with the girls I date, but I’m really focused on looks. Personality, give or take. But looks are very important.”

“Really?” Shallow douche bag. “And what kind of looks are important to you?”

Honestly, I had no idea why the question slipped past my lips. I didn’t plan on asking it, but…I couldn’t stop myself.

“You know, long hair, beautiful eyes, great body.” As he listed the features, his eyes stopped on each of the locations on my body. His trek stopped on the words inked across my left forearm: The Attention Just Encourages Her. “Tattoos are a plus…and piercings.”

He looked at my right hip, where two studs protruded from my skin beneath my shirt. I looked away, back at my papers.

The mic passed on to Robert. His answer went unheard to me. My ears rang with Max’s words through the rest of the interview. Up to the moment when Devin said cut, the urge to stand up and run away coursed through me, from my head to the bottoms of my feet.

I barely realized when I was being pulled onto the side of the stage as the leader singer of The White Tie Affair shouted into his microphone, “I have been told to announce Escape the Fate to the stage!” And the crowd screamed happily.

The feeling of Stefan nudging me in the ribs finally woke me up from my dazed state. I blinked several times and glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

“You were daydreaming,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured you wouldn’t want to miss the concert.”

I nodded, thanking him quietly. I took a step forward to stand beside Devin, who was recording on his camera still.

He smiled down at me. “You okay?” he whispered. “You were acting weird during the interview, you know.”

“I…I know.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you hear Max? His answer to that question was directed at me.” I hugged my arms around my torso. “He’s fucking with my head or something.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. I raised one right back.

“Or maybe he just likes you.”

I looked back to the stage, shaking my head. They started playing The Flood, and it was impossible not to notice Max turning to look at me as he rocked around the stage.