A Story to Tell Your Friends
Fifty-Two.
“I’m so tired,” I whined, resting my head on Jack’s shoulder in the cab and doing my best not to fall asleep.
“You’re fine,” he laughed lightly, pulling me closer anyway. “It’s just jetlag. You have a couple days to recover before we get busy, I promise.” I groaned into him, not happy with his response as I knew without a doubt I’d be busy from the get go. Besides, it had been three days and I still hadn’t spoken to Tammy, which was basically unheard of and I had been having trouble letting my mind rest properly because I was worried about that and what my living situation would look like when I returned home. Unfortunately, Jack didn’t know any of this. I was still trying to work out what the fuck I was going to do and sticking stubbornly to my stance of not guilting him into letting me move in. I had this. I didn’t know how I had this or what my solution was, but I knew I had to have this.
“Can we stop at Starbucks?” I moaned once again. “Do they even have Starbucks?” Jack laughed at me again, nodding.
“Yes, they have Starbucks. There’s one by our hotel.”
“You travel too much,” I muttered.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“If I nap until the hotel, will that be worse?”
“Yep. Just stay awake another couple of hours and we can sleep once it’s dark.”
“That’s not a couple of hours,” I whined, checking my phone to see it was barely 11am. The guys had allowed us all about 2 hours sleep total on the flight and I just wasn’t used to that shit at all, least of all when I should still be 2 hours away from waking up if I’d been home.
“I know, cutie, but I promise I’ll dose you with an overabundance of caffeine for the day and buy you something super British for dinner if you stay awake.”
“British food is gross though.”
“Name a British dish you’ve eaten,” he challenged.
“Fish and chips. It was gross.”
“You mean fries you eat every day and something deep fried, that thing you also love?”
“There’s no cheese on fish and chips, Jack,” I countered in return. “And those fries were way too thick.”
“How about a deep fried chocolate bar?”
“A deep fried... what?” I was confused, pulling my head off his shoulder to look at him.
“They do this thing where they batter a Mars bar and deep fry it. I mean, it’s a Scottish thing really so I probably couldn’t get you one until we go to Edinburgh but, yeah, deep fried chocolate.”
“I hate Alex’s heritage.”
“Alex isn’t Scottish.”
“Scotland is in Britain. Alex is British. I hate Alex’s heritage.” Jack laughed at me, shaking his head but offering no further argument to protect his friend.
“Okay, what about this: they do pizza that has fries on top of it?”
I paused, narrowing my eyes to find the trick in his words. “Pizza isn’t British.”
“No, but this is their kind of pizza.”
“Go on.”
“Nothing else to say. Cheese pizza, fries on top. Easy.”
I was unwilling to admit it sounded appealing, so instead I flung myself back into my seat and groaned.
“It’s 4am,” I exclaimed, refusing to discuss what time it actually was in the UK until I acclimatised. “You can’t talk to me about food right now because I feel sick. Why do you do this?”
“Because now you’re wide awake,” he chuckled. Of course I was wide awake now, a moaning conversation with Jack about food enough to wake me up, but I hadn’t realised that until he had said so. “And we’re nearly at the hotel so I promise I’ll get you a Starbucks soon.”
“You’re the best, Barakat,” I smiled widely. He grinned back at me, suppressing his usual ‘tell me something I don’t know’, probably due to his own jetlag, but I still heard it in my head anyway.
My new work phone vibrated in my hand, a message from Brian, their tour manager, telling me Waterparks had landed, equipment two hours out and I let out a sigh of relief. I knew I still had a lot of organising to do, and Jack had so much promo work over the next month that I wasn’t really sure what else I could have handled alongside this, more grateful than I cared to admit that things were, so far, running smoothly. Yes, we weren’t busy yet, but that didn’t mean the next two days were going to be easy.
I fired back a response to Brian, texting the guys from the crew to let them know the ETA on equipment, turning myself into work mode just to keep my eyes open. If I continued to lean on Jack, I’d fall asleep and as much as I didn’t want to admit they were right, the guys knew how to fight jetlag a hell of a lot better than I did. I repeat: I don’t want to admit that, and so I never will. Jack leaned back in his seat, also fighting to keep his eyes open, but allowing me my distraction.
Despite the grey cloud hanging over my entire life right now, I was beyond looking forward to a month of almost uninterrupted Jack time. It had been so long since our work overlapped. The inescapable actual need to be around him wasn’t just something that dragged me to his apartment literally every night whether he was there or not, but actually an aspect of my job description. Even when it had been part of my job description before, we’d kept separate, limiting out interaction to him dropping by my desk when he was in the office. This was another level.
I checked Jack and I into the hotel, getting the key cards for the rest of the guys too and handed them around. Jack had separated from me the moment we left the cab and, as much as I knew he thought he was being inconspicuous, I had a feeling he’d be walking back with some sort of sugary Starbucks for me to keep my eyes open. I hung around in the lobby, our bags already taken to our rooms, waiting for Jack to appear, while firing off more texts and organising yet more of our schedule for the next few days. I was mostly assigned to ensuring all the bands made it to their pre-show promo, but as that wasn’t exactly full time, I was also in charge of making sure they all got everywhere on time, including to sound checks and meeting their timings at the show. While Brian was in charge of the crew, I was simply in charge of wrangling boys in bands to the right place at the right time. I was dreading the thought that I was somehow going to be doing the most difficult job. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t exactly heard good things about trying to get rock bands to do fucking anything on time.
“Hot and sweet, just like you,” he grinned, shoving a disposable Starbucks cup in my face, breaking me from my haze. I hadn’t realised I’d been texting people on autopilot, probably making ridiculous amounts of mistakes in the process. I scrunched my nose in disgust at his cheesy line, a chuckle escaping him at the sight. “Alright, fine, not just like you. You’re cute and nerdy, but I don’t think they make those kinds of drinks.”
“I don’t think your pick-up lines are getting any better with time.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You fall for my pick-up lines constantly.” I shook my head, taking a deep drink from the cup. The caffeine would take a while to make its way into my system, but the familiar smell and taste eased a lot of my tension immediately. I knew I could do this.
“What room are we in, cutie?” I handed off his key card to him, keeping two in my hand.
“We aren’t in any room. You’re in 611, I’m in 625.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “This is business, Barakat. You’re sharing with Alex.”
“Well, that’s just fucking rude,” he replied, staring at his key card, reading the little ‘611’ on the front. I snorted, taking another drink, before holding my hand out and offering him one of the two cards I kept.
“Here.” I watched his grin widen, reading ‘625’ on the card I had just handed him. “Turns out I get a room all to myself.”
“Not anymore, cutie pie. I’m going to stink up your room with my boy sweat, just like home.” I fake gagged, standing from my seat and stretching. I had no intention of unpacking, and I had no doubt Jack felt the same, but I’d still like to be alone with him for an hour before I had to start wrangling another set of boys. We had the venue tomorrow through the day to practice and set up and I would be in charge of arranging taxis, staying here until all the boys were in cars on their way to the venue (a temporary arrangement until the buses came early the day following the first show) before I made it to the venue myself and started all over again. I was exhausted just thinking about it, but I had no doubt that when I was finally allowed to sleep, the thought would be way less daunting.
I was going to be a baby about it. Sue me.
All I wanted to do was flop on the bed the moment I saw it in my room, the fluffy pillows and sheets looking beyond enticing, but I let my stubborn streak kick in the opposite way than usual. Instead of stubbornly staying in my bed, I was stubbornly staying out.
“You okay, Clara?” Jack asked, eyeing me as I less-than-enthusiastically flopped into the chair by the dressing table. I pouted in response before taking another long drink of my coffee.
“I like my sleep.”
“I know, cutie, but you’ll adapt in no time, I promise.” I shrugged, not willing to admit he was right. I told you, stubborn. “Besides, three whole weeks of Jack Time.” The grin I felt pulling at my lips was no longer forced, the reminder all I needed to rebound my mood. I was so grateful I had this chance with him.
“So, I’ve got an hour before I have to start arguing with some other boys in some other bands,” I told him, my grin turning slightly more mischievous as I spoke. “Any ideas on how to keep me up?” I watched him pause for half a second, before his expression began to mirror my own.
“Oh, I’ve got a few.”
“You’re fine,” he laughed lightly, pulling me closer anyway. “It’s just jetlag. You have a couple days to recover before we get busy, I promise.” I groaned into him, not happy with his response as I knew without a doubt I’d be busy from the get go. Besides, it had been three days and I still hadn’t spoken to Tammy, which was basically unheard of and I had been having trouble letting my mind rest properly because I was worried about that and what my living situation would look like when I returned home. Unfortunately, Jack didn’t know any of this. I was still trying to work out what the fuck I was going to do and sticking stubbornly to my stance of not guilting him into letting me move in. I had this. I didn’t know how I had this or what my solution was, but I knew I had to have this.
“Can we stop at Starbucks?” I moaned once again. “Do they even have Starbucks?” Jack laughed at me again, nodding.
“Yes, they have Starbucks. There’s one by our hotel.”
“You travel too much,” I muttered.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“If I nap until the hotel, will that be worse?”
“Yep. Just stay awake another couple of hours and we can sleep once it’s dark.”
“That’s not a couple of hours,” I whined, checking my phone to see it was barely 11am. The guys had allowed us all about 2 hours sleep total on the flight and I just wasn’t used to that shit at all, least of all when I should still be 2 hours away from waking up if I’d been home.
“I know, cutie, but I promise I’ll dose you with an overabundance of caffeine for the day and buy you something super British for dinner if you stay awake.”
“British food is gross though.”
“Name a British dish you’ve eaten,” he challenged.
“Fish and chips. It was gross.”
“You mean fries you eat every day and something deep fried, that thing you also love?”
“There’s no cheese on fish and chips, Jack,” I countered in return. “And those fries were way too thick.”
“How about a deep fried chocolate bar?”
“A deep fried... what?” I was confused, pulling my head off his shoulder to look at him.
“They do this thing where they batter a Mars bar and deep fry it. I mean, it’s a Scottish thing really so I probably couldn’t get you one until we go to Edinburgh but, yeah, deep fried chocolate.”
“I hate Alex’s heritage.”
“Alex isn’t Scottish.”
“Scotland is in Britain. Alex is British. I hate Alex’s heritage.” Jack laughed at me, shaking his head but offering no further argument to protect his friend.
“Okay, what about this: they do pizza that has fries on top of it?”
I paused, narrowing my eyes to find the trick in his words. “Pizza isn’t British.”
“No, but this is their kind of pizza.”
“Go on.”
“Nothing else to say. Cheese pizza, fries on top. Easy.”
I was unwilling to admit it sounded appealing, so instead I flung myself back into my seat and groaned.
“It’s 4am,” I exclaimed, refusing to discuss what time it actually was in the UK until I acclimatised. “You can’t talk to me about food right now because I feel sick. Why do you do this?”
“Because now you’re wide awake,” he chuckled. Of course I was wide awake now, a moaning conversation with Jack about food enough to wake me up, but I hadn’t realised that until he had said so. “And we’re nearly at the hotel so I promise I’ll get you a Starbucks soon.”
“You’re the best, Barakat,” I smiled widely. He grinned back at me, suppressing his usual ‘tell me something I don’t know’, probably due to his own jetlag, but I still heard it in my head anyway.
My new work phone vibrated in my hand, a message from Brian, their tour manager, telling me Waterparks had landed, equipment two hours out and I let out a sigh of relief. I knew I still had a lot of organising to do, and Jack had so much promo work over the next month that I wasn’t really sure what else I could have handled alongside this, more grateful than I cared to admit that things were, so far, running smoothly. Yes, we weren’t busy yet, but that didn’t mean the next two days were going to be easy.
I fired back a response to Brian, texting the guys from the crew to let them know the ETA on equipment, turning myself into work mode just to keep my eyes open. If I continued to lean on Jack, I’d fall asleep and as much as I didn’t want to admit they were right, the guys knew how to fight jetlag a hell of a lot better than I did. I repeat: I don’t want to admit that, and so I never will. Jack leaned back in his seat, also fighting to keep his eyes open, but allowing me my distraction.
Despite the grey cloud hanging over my entire life right now, I was beyond looking forward to a month of almost uninterrupted Jack time. It had been so long since our work overlapped. The inescapable actual need to be around him wasn’t just something that dragged me to his apartment literally every night whether he was there or not, but actually an aspect of my job description. Even when it had been part of my job description before, we’d kept separate, limiting out interaction to him dropping by my desk when he was in the office. This was another level.
I checked Jack and I into the hotel, getting the key cards for the rest of the guys too and handed them around. Jack had separated from me the moment we left the cab and, as much as I knew he thought he was being inconspicuous, I had a feeling he’d be walking back with some sort of sugary Starbucks for me to keep my eyes open. I hung around in the lobby, our bags already taken to our rooms, waiting for Jack to appear, while firing off more texts and organising yet more of our schedule for the next few days. I was mostly assigned to ensuring all the bands made it to their pre-show promo, but as that wasn’t exactly full time, I was also in charge of making sure they all got everywhere on time, including to sound checks and meeting their timings at the show. While Brian was in charge of the crew, I was simply in charge of wrangling boys in bands to the right place at the right time. I was dreading the thought that I was somehow going to be doing the most difficult job. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t exactly heard good things about trying to get rock bands to do fucking anything on time.
“Hot and sweet, just like you,” he grinned, shoving a disposable Starbucks cup in my face, breaking me from my haze. I hadn’t realised I’d been texting people on autopilot, probably making ridiculous amounts of mistakes in the process. I scrunched my nose in disgust at his cheesy line, a chuckle escaping him at the sight. “Alright, fine, not just like you. You’re cute and nerdy, but I don’t think they make those kinds of drinks.”
“I don’t think your pick-up lines are getting any better with time.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You fall for my pick-up lines constantly.” I shook my head, taking a deep drink from the cup. The caffeine would take a while to make its way into my system, but the familiar smell and taste eased a lot of my tension immediately. I knew I could do this.
“What room are we in, cutie?” I handed off his key card to him, keeping two in my hand.
“We aren’t in any room. You’re in 611, I’m in 625.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “This is business, Barakat. You’re sharing with Alex.”
“Well, that’s just fucking rude,” he replied, staring at his key card, reading the little ‘611’ on the front. I snorted, taking another drink, before holding my hand out and offering him one of the two cards I kept.
“Here.” I watched his grin widen, reading ‘625’ on the card I had just handed him. “Turns out I get a room all to myself.”
“Not anymore, cutie pie. I’m going to stink up your room with my boy sweat, just like home.” I fake gagged, standing from my seat and stretching. I had no intention of unpacking, and I had no doubt Jack felt the same, but I’d still like to be alone with him for an hour before I had to start wrangling another set of boys. We had the venue tomorrow through the day to practice and set up and I would be in charge of arranging taxis, staying here until all the boys were in cars on their way to the venue (a temporary arrangement until the buses came early the day following the first show) before I made it to the venue myself and started all over again. I was exhausted just thinking about it, but I had no doubt that when I was finally allowed to sleep, the thought would be way less daunting.
I was going to be a baby about it. Sue me.
All I wanted to do was flop on the bed the moment I saw it in my room, the fluffy pillows and sheets looking beyond enticing, but I let my stubborn streak kick in the opposite way than usual. Instead of stubbornly staying in my bed, I was stubbornly staying out.
“You okay, Clara?” Jack asked, eyeing me as I less-than-enthusiastically flopped into the chair by the dressing table. I pouted in response before taking another long drink of my coffee.
“I like my sleep.”
“I know, cutie, but you’ll adapt in no time, I promise.” I shrugged, not willing to admit he was right. I told you, stubborn. “Besides, three whole weeks of Jack Time.” The grin I felt pulling at my lips was no longer forced, the reminder all I needed to rebound my mood. I was so grateful I had this chance with him.
“So, I’ve got an hour before I have to start arguing with some other boys in some other bands,” I told him, my grin turning slightly more mischievous as I spoke. “Any ideas on how to keep me up?” I watched him pause for half a second, before his expression began to mirror my own.
“Oh, I’ve got a few.”