Something Else

When I got back from NYU, diploma in hand and ready to open the art gallery I always dreamed of, I wasn't expecting Kennedy Brock to drop such a bomb. I hadn't seen Kenny in years, yet when I showed up on his doorstep he hugged me as if I'd never left.

"Damn, Keagan. New York did you well. You look amazing," he said as he kissed my cheek and welcomed me inside.

We caught up for hours, and I didn't notice that Kennedy was far too interested in my time in New York, that he made me a special cup of tea, or that he completely avoided talking about the band. He was buttering me up, trying to get on my good side, and it seemed as though he succeeded. He asked me just as I stood to leave and in a jumble of words that he had to repeat for me.

"We need someone to do merch on the tour after Vito leaves. Will you?"

Normally, I would have never agreed to go on tour. I had just gotten home. I wanted to spend time with my mum, I wanted to open my gallery, but those plans didn't really cross my mind. All I knew was that I had been gone for so long, and that I missed my best friends. So I agreed, and without even unpacking I met Kennedy at the Dallas Airport the next week.

As Kennedy drove us back to the venue, he tried to give me a brief idea of who everyone was. Names were being jumbled in my head the whole time. Was Matt Nasty even in the band? Who was the drummer again? None of that was what really worried me though. I was thinking about seeing John again. When we got to the venue, he and a few of the guys were waiting outside the bus for us.

It was the first time I had seen John since he went away to school the year before me, and it was the first time I had spoken to him in at least two years. Kennedy had welcomed me back as if I had never left. I doubted that John would do the same, but it didn't mean that I wasn't hoping.

;;

There was no denying he was attractive – not that he wasn't good-looking before. John had always been blessed with a long neck and great bone structure. What made him so different – so much more handsome, were a few subtle changes. He was skinnier, if that was possible. His hair, maybe a shade lighter than I remembered, was cropped shorter than the horrible mullet he used to have. His horrible fashion sense had improved. Now he wore jeans that he cuffed just above a pair of boots and white tee that hung loose on his torso.

His hazel eyes held a confident shine and looked directly into my own. He stepped forward from the group and pulled me into a quick hug. His hands were rough as they tugged me into him, but I didn't mind. When he pulled back, I saw his eyes travel up and down my frame once. Typical.

"Wow, K" he said, using his old nickname for me. "New York made you hotter."

His voice was low, raspy even. It held a certain sex appeal I didn't fail to notice. After he spoke, his lips curved up into a half smile so charming I thought every girl in the vicinity would fall over with glee.

"That's more or less what Kenny said when he saw me," I laughed.

"Well what ever he said didn't do you justice."

"Well aren't you keen," I said with a laugh. Now you’re just trying to hard, I thought.

I watched John's smile falter for a moment, a lapse in his confidence I guessed. He recovered quickly though, and tried another line on me. I only laughed again. John's smile faltered once more.

"You are some girl, Keagan," he said, staring at me questioningly. He must have forgotten what my rejection felt like.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I retorted with a smirk.

"You should."

The confidence returned to his face in the form of a smile, not as charming as the first, but still very nice.

It wasn't the reunion I was looking for, but I shouldn't have expected anything more from John. It turns out that when you go to college across the country from your friends, you tend to loose touch eventually. And while Kenny had welcomed me back to Arizona with open arms, John didn't seem as keen to welcome me to tour. Why should he? In all honesty, we weren't that close in high-school. The most meaningful conversations John and I had happened when he was pissed. The only reason we were best friends was because we had to be, for Kenny's sake. Sure we thought well enough of each other, but we lacked the bond between real best friends.

Kenny introduced me to the rest of the boys, who didn't try to pick me up. I was thankful and mentioned it to them. Pat, the drummer, laughed and Jared apologized for John's manners.

"It's fine," I said, shaking my head. "Really, I'm used to it from him. He's really the only guy that ever hit on me in front of Kenny."

"That's because everyone you met already had a girlfriend," Kennedy cut in.

"That doesn't stop most guys," I said, shrugging.

The boys chuckled and then conversation continued. John and Garrett, the smiley bassist, went inside with another man Kenny hadn't introduced, but the other half of the band was happy to get to know me. Pat asked me a lot of questions, which I was happy to answer. I was still a little bit overwhelmed by his energy, though. Jared was very calm and seemed interested in why we'd never run into each other before at Kennedy's house. I told him how much time I'd spent over there and the open door policy the family had with me. Jared said he was always running over there to pick Kenny up for band practice or to just hang out.

I spent the next hour chatting with the boys and having a nice time. When the time came for the guys to do sound check, I trailed behind them, feeling a bit lost and out of touch. Kennedy introduced me to The Maine's crew, including Vito who promised to take good care of me for the first half of the tour, as I learned the ropes of merch management. He was meant to give me guidance, as the only retail experience I had was a summer job at H&M.

"So, I'm guessing since we haven't met you until now that you haven't seen us perform," Jared said as he grabbed his guitar from the tech I had just met, Aaron.

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I've heard John sing and seen Kenny play before, of course, just not with you. I'm excited."

"Sound check is always fun," Pat piped up. "We have much more liberty to goof off."

On stage, it seemed the rest of the band was ready to go. Garrett made a sarcastic comment and John laughed. He stood in front of the microphone, so the sound was multiplied. Kennedy was standing at the other end of the stage, guitar in hand, watching as Pat and Jared took their spots. I stood off to the side while the guys discussed what song they wanted to do. Garrett and Pat wanted to do one song, while the rest of the guys wanted to do another. It took them a while, but John mentioned that Pat and Garrett were outnumbered and it was decided that majority rules.

While I had listened to The Maine before, I didn't know the words to all of their songs. They played something off the new album, something I didn't know. It seemed that John was messing around with the lyrics though, because I was sure all the obscene things he was saying weren't really their music style. The rest of the band kept laughing at the changes, but I only smiled. Pat was right, they definitely goofed off. Garrett laid on the ground for half the song and Kenny kept running back and forth across the stage. Jared was the only one that stayed relatively normal throughout the song.

They really didn't finish with a bang, which had me disappointed, but I enjoyed the performance nonetheless. I noticed the major improvement in Kennedy's playing and the change in John's singing. Both were happy surprises for me. Despite not seeing either of them for years and really didn’t have a reason to feel the way I did, I was still proud of their improvements. As the boys walked back in my direction, Kennedy wiping a few drops of sweat from his brow, I applauded.

The guys and I walked back to the bus to relax before the show. I took the time to do some work for my gallery. Garrett, Kenny, and Jared disappeared into the bunk area while John and Pat stayed out in the front lounge with me. John had opened a beer and turned on the television. He sat next to me on the couch, leaning back against the arm. Pat sat at the table, apparently uploading the first set of pictures from tour onto their website.

It was pretty quiet apart from whatever John was watching. I was engulfed in my work, and didn't notice how quickly the time was passing. Soon enough, Vito was pulling me off the couch and I was struggling to save my work before he pulled me off the bus.

We were only inside for a few minutes when doors opened and kids started flooding into the venue. For my first day, I did a good job at the merch table. Vito only had to help me find a shirt once, so I was pretty proud of myself. I watched the guys' set from where I was. They were amazing, and apart from John's obvious intoxication, the show went very well.

By the time all the fans had left the venue and Vito and I had packed all the merch, I was knackered. I practically dragged myself back to the bus and only had enough energy to make it to the couch. I collapsed on my stomach and let out a tired groan.

"You're tired already?" John said from above me. "It's only the first day of tour. It's time to party."

I turned my head to glare at him. John only smiled.

"I'm sorry I'm encroaching on your party time, O'Callaghan," I said sarcastically. "Piss off. Go party on whoever's bus."

"I couldn't go without you, K!"

"Are you always such an ass when you're pissed?" I asked turning away from him again and closing my eyes.

"Who said I was pissed? I'm not pissed at all. I'm in a really good mood, actually."

"Drunk, John. I mean drunk."

"Whatever. You're in America, Keagan. You've been in America for half your life. Start talking like it."

"Fuck you, John!" I shouted, sitting up quickly. My anger was fueled by exhaustion, which was probably why I was overreacting. John took a few steps back, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Fuck. Chill out, K. It's not that serious," he said.

"That's my culture, you twat. It's serious to me," I responded, my exhaustion returning to my voice as the anger left it.

"Well, sorry," John said slowly. It was the first and one of the few times I heard him apologize. "I'll leave then."

He did, and before I knew it, I had forgotten about the spat and drifted off to sleep.