We were halfway to Magdalena, New Mexico, when all at once, every single phone in the car chimed.
I pulled out my cell and clicked on the message. It was a group chat from Emmy that included each band member. An instant smile took me by surprise. Goddamn it. She was something else.
The moment the message opened, the file she attached started to play, and when I heard it, I chuckled to myself. In every seat of the car, at different times, the same file played as each other guys opened the message and when they heard it, they all snickered.
“Can anybody find me,” Queen sang, “somebody to love.”
The message underneath had me tipping my head back and laughing out loud.
Emmy: One assistant looking for a band to love.
Emmy: Pros: Quiet.
Emmy: Cons: Abandonment issues.
The entire car broke out in raucous laughter.
Noah spoke through a chuckle. “You think we should’ve just brought her along?” His laughter faded. “I feel bad.”
Hell made a sound in his throat. “I love Emmy, but—” He sounded hesitant about what he was about to say. “—she needs to learn to live without us.”
A moment of silence.
Then Lee asked a solemn, “Has anyone spoken to her about what’s happening after the tour?”
My own smile faded. “No. We’ll tell her when we get home.” Suddenly, I didn’t feel right. “Don’t ruin it for her. She’s having fun, man.” Probably for the first time in her life.
“Somebody to Love” continued to play in the background.
Noah looked at me before turning back to the road. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”
He shrugged a moment before saying, “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to miss her.” He peered at me once again. “I thought she was a pain in your ass.”
“She is,” I admitted freely. I also reluctantly added, “But I like her.”
Nobody knew about our late-night visits. As far as the guys were concerned, every time I disappeared, I was out hooking up, fucking fans. And I was okay with that assumption.
Emmy was my friend. She put up with me when nobody else wanted to. I had issues. I knew I was too intense for some people. This was one of the reasons I avoided her in the beginning. She looked frail and frightened of the big, bad world, and I had no business hanging around her, bringing her down. But she grew on me, like a fungus. And after six weeks on tour, I came to realize that Emmy wasn’t as weak as I assumed she was. In fact, she was stronger than I gave her credit for.
Every time she took a punch, she got back on her feet.
She was honest to a fault and that was so rare a find it made her special.
Emmy was brave and selfless, and I now knew that no matter what I first thought of her, she didn’t need us.
We needed her. Desperately.
Some of us more than others. This was also why I needed to be careful with her.
When women who were once sweet turn bitter, a man like me was usually the cause. See, most females were gullible, naïve, and I liked to help them understand that trusting a guy like me was always a bad idea.
I was a lesson, an example. I couldn’t change who I was.
But Emmy… she made me want to change. And that scared the fucking shit out of me.
My mood turned sour. I didn’t want to think about what would happen when we got home. It was pointless to stress about it.
So, I would live in the now, in a good place. A place where I got to hang out with my friends on the daily and watch a frightened little girl grow into an independent woman.
My smile returned but only mildly.
Helping Emmy grow was definitely something I could help with. And something told me I’d get more out of it than she.
It was soundcheck time in Seattle and while I fucked around with my guitar, I subtly watched Emmy sit at the gigantic drum kit while Hell handed her his sticks.
I wasn’t allowed to touch his sticks.
No one was allowed to touch his sticks.
But there he was, the massive Viking, handing her his most prized possessions, because it was Emmy. And I got that. She gave so much of herself to us that it was hard to not return the notion.
Believe me, I wanted to be unaffected. And I tried. But I failed.