Like a Crash the Whole Thing Spun Out of Control

When my eyes opened the next morning, we were no longer in Salt Lake City, Utah. We were parked behind the venue in Denver Colorado. Everything was silent except for the random clicks of a mouse in the front lounge area, so I knew that Caillen, Angus and Trent weren’t on board and were wondering around the venue somewhere.

“Afternoon.” Simon didn’t look up at me as I came through the door in my long shirt and underwear. They were all used to seeing me in my underwear that none of them cared. Caillen usually complimented me on my choice of underwear while they other guys had friend-zoned me long ago, so they just ignored it.

“Where the shit are my pop-tarts?” Waking up was a bad time of the day for me. “Simon, did you eat them?”

“No.”

“Well they’re all gone, someone must have eaten them.” He sighed, got up from his seat and came over to where I was standing, glaring into the cereal cabinet. “No one else likes them Simon.”

“Harlow, all the guys like them. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Angus left with like four as soon as we got here.” Automatically my scowl grew bigger. “Why don’t you take some coupons and go over to catering?” I sighed.

“I’m going to kick him in the fucking vagina.” Simon shook his head and rolled his eyes as he went back to what he was doing on the computer.

I got dressed quickly and pulled my hair up into a very messy bun right on the top of my head, not bothering a whole lot on what I looked like. Simon ignored me as I made a lot of noise and barely acknowledged me as I stomped past him, stuffed my feet into my vans and then left the bus, slamming the door shut behind me.

Harlow Bennett:
Come have breakfast with me.

I walked past a whole lot of people backstage on my search for the catering tent. There were guys that I knew, and guys that I didn’t. None of them said hello to me, and I’m assuming that was because of the sour look on my face as I past them.

I got a reply message as soon as I wondered through the flaps of the catering tent.

John O’Callaghan:
Breakfast? Harlow it’s like, past lunch time…

I didn’t bother replying, I knew he’d turn up anyway. Instead, I busied myself scanning the tent for an empty table far away from everyone and everything and luckily, I found just that by the fence at the back. Five minutes later, John waltzed in with his dark skinny jeans, Harley Davidson top and bare feet. I gave him a look and he grinned and fell down into the seat beside me.

“Good afternoon Belle,” he said, taking a piece of bacon from my plate. “You look super happy today.”

“Shut up.”John laughed and we fell into a comfortable silence as we watched fans through the fence rushing up and down between the merch tents screaming at their friends about the new shirt they’d just bought.

“So I was thinking…”

“Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” He chuckled and sent me a mock-annoyed look. “I’m just kidding, what were you thinking?”

“Wanna come with us to Las Vegas?” He asked, leaning forward to take another bit of bacon from my plate. I wondered briefly if he’d noticed I had only eating a single bite of bacon since he’d sat down.

“You walk in here not wearing shoes, and then you ask me to go with you to Vegas?” He nodded. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes by the way? Are you going for the hobo-look?”

“Negative. I couldn’t find them, so I ditched the idea and came out anyway.” I nodded and picked up my cup to take a sip of my tea. “What are you up to today?” I went to open my mouth to reply, but he cut me off, “other than performing on stage, obviously.”

“Well, I think I have a signing right after our set, then I guess I’ll be packing a bag and heading to your bus for the trip to Vegas.”



Right before we were due to head across the venue to the Hurley stage, I felt a weird twinge in my stomach that made me gag a little bit. So I told the guys that I’d catch up with them and waited for them to leave before I went to the toilet and stuck my fingers down my throat.

The familiar feeling of bile and food flew up my throat and into the toilet bowl. I knew it was bad for me, and I knew I should stop but it made me feel like I was in charge of something. I felt empowered.

“Ugh, gross,” I whispered as I wiped some off of my chin, stood up and flushed the toilet. I watched it swirl around in the bowl before it finally disappeared and then left the bus and set off towards the stage, still feeling slightly sick in my stomach.



We went through almost an entire set with out my stomach giving me any problems. Only at the end of the last song, which was a demo of a new song I had been writing, did my queasiness come back.

“Hey guys, I’ve been writing a lot lately, and I’ve come up with a new song. It’s only a demo, but would you guys like to hear it?” A couple of people from the barricade screamed out a yes as the rest of the crowd just screamed. “Well alright!” I hurriedly taught the guys a small beat before I pulled the microphone up to my mouth. “He called me over and took my hand and led me away toward the stairs. Moments, minutes, lifetimes fly by. I called his name, he turned and waved. I feel in the vein of a big disgrace.”

We finished out the small part of the song and I smiled out across the sea of people.

“You guys are so amazing, thank you so much for coming out!” The three guys and I waved as we left the stage and as soon as we were out of view, I hurried to the nearest trashcan and threw up.

“Harlow baby, are you okay?” Caillen yelled. He’d always been scared of sick people, so I wasn’t insulted when he stayed away. “Do you want me to get you water?”

“Don’t worry about the signing Harlow, if you’re unwell just go back to the bus and sleep it off,” Simon whispered, handing me a bottle of water he’d apparently gotten from Caillen. I nodded my head a little and walked off en route for the bus, while the guys all went to the signing.

I couldn’t even stay vertical long enough to change into my pyjama top, so I yanked my pants off and my jacket, leaving myself in a tank top and my underwear. I knew in the back of my mind that I was forgetting something, but nothing mattered at that moment. All I wanted to do was sleep.

John O’Callaghan:
Ready for our trip to Vegas?