“Everyone keeps sayin’ that,” I mumble half to myself.
“But I wasn’t sure how to back it up,” he admits, as if taking notes of what to improve on in his imaginary snare-and-hi-hat-beating sessions. “Felt more like a solo piece. I kept worrying my percussion was interfering.”
“You were great, Raj. I liked the rhythm.”
“Really?” He smiles to himself, nearly holding back a giggle. The smile vanishes. “But really, it’s important we get things right, especially at this point in the tour. I don’t wanna hold you back at all. I’m just a guest in your world. Lucky to be here.”
Fiona, apparently awake, says, “Take his dick a little deeper, will you?” from under her hat.
Raj leans in to me and whispers, “I heard Laina broke things off with her. Couldn’t handle the long-distance girlfriend-always-on-tour thing. Poor Fiona.”
“I can still hear you,” she mumbles, causing Raj to wince.
I realize what I want isn’t something I can find in this fridge. I shut the door and rise up—so does Raj—and lean back against the counter. “What do you mean it’s important to get things right at this point of the tour?” I ask him quietly.
“Because I know we’re on the edge of a breakthrough,” is his answer, as dryly as if it’s fact. “Everything is on the line. You’ve established this new rock sound for Chase Holt. The world hears everything we do—including our mistakes. I won’t blow any of our opportunities. I know everyone’s eyes are on us.” He leansin. “I’m gonna be the best drummer you ever had. I won’t let you down.”
Ian’s getting to him. In through Raj’s ear like programming a robot, and out his mouth, that familiar, hypnotizing flow of self-fulfilling optimism I can’t stand.
But it’s also the same optimism that got us where we are. And it’s not like I haven’t done my part in perpetuating Ian’s mantras.
Alleged not-so-country-anymore sellout…
I shudder away the words. “Y’know, Raj …” I start to say.
Then the bus jerks, throwing him into me—I catch him to save him crashing into the wall—and everything is rumbly and fucked up. “Aw, shoot!” growls Larry our driver from up ahead. “Ah, hang tight, hang tight. Shoot.” The rumble continues. Fiona has sat up, annoyed. When the bus finally lurches to a stop, Larry sighs. “This cursed damned night. Sorry, folks. Bleepin’ tire.”
Wily pokes his head out of his bunk, rubbing his eyes. Raj, still caught awkwardly in my arms, winces at Wily over my shoulder and whispers, “Flat.”
Last time this happened to a tour bus of ours, it was a bus we rented from some cheap company our first year of touring. Feels damned near nostalgic standing roadside again at fuck-it-o’clock, watching the 24/7 industrial tire service work their miracles on the edge of whatever Texas freeway we’re on. Some of the crew still awake came out of their bus, parked behind us. Dee’s chatting with Fiona. Ian’s pacing by the road on his phone. Wily’s trying not to fall over as he stands in place, blinking.
I’m trying not to see this as a sign.
Like something in my life needs to be rammed off track before I continue on this sellout road into my future.
Like something’s wrong.
I stare up at the stars as if looking for the answer. It’s amazing how many are visible out here. Something about long, quiet roads far away from any known city, out in the middle of who-knows, when the night sky’s so dark every star flashes like glitter, so close you swear you could catch them in your eyelashes.
“Do you meet with fans in secret?” asks Raj, still next to me.
I flinch out of my thoughts. “What?”
“Sorry, nothing, I’m prying.” He looks off, pretending to have lost interest. Doesn’t last long. “It’s just when I came to get you …”
I forgot Raj was the one who was sent to fetch me before the show. He likely saw the guy I was talking to. Or rather:listeningto. “Nah, not a fan. He didn’t even know who I was.”
“Oh, wow, really? Some rando, then?”
“No idea.”
That just further confuses him. “Then … who was he …?”
I’m not sure I can answer that myself. “Nobody,” I finally say, frowning at the stars. Raj nods, taking my answer for truth right away and poking no further. I’ve come to like that about him, his calm, trusting demeanor.
It’s just that kind of mind that’s so easily moldable by Ian.
“Success ain’t everything,” I let out suddenly, perhaps what I was trying to say on the bus before the tire went caput. I peel my eyes from the night sky to find Raj looking back at me. “Don’t let …them… get into your head about perfection, threatening you not to make a mistake … That’s where the good stuff happens. When you fuck up. Take a risk. Sprinkle in something unexpected. When you don’tplanso dang much. That’s the special sauce, Raj. Don’t hold yourself back because you think you’re doin’meany favors.”