like you with a happy family to say. I envy you, dude. What you have—that greatness—inspires me to work for the same. I’d be home right now instead of this concert if I had what you do.”
“Which is exactly why I’m heading out. As eventful as it was to watch you give that wanker a good beating, I’m ready to get back to my family. Just don’t worry and things will work out.” He pats his pockets, probably in search of his keys, before making a face as if he just remembered something. “I almost forgot. I plan on framing this.” He grins and pulls a rolled-up paper out of his pocket, before tossing me a marker and unrolling what appears to be a poster of me getting arrested. “Sign it right there across the top, Cousin. Make it pretty for my junk art room.”
“You had a picture of me being shoved into a police car made into a poster?” Can’t say I’m surprised. It is Chance Bateman, after all. If anyone knows about posters, it’s him. He’s only had thousands of him purchased.
He nods as I laugh and sign it for him. “Not just a poster. About a couple hundred of them. One is included in the landscaping package I offer my customers. They appreciate the extra gift. Most get a good laugh out of your facial expression as you’re struggling against the police.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not about giving them away to his customers, but I wouldn’t put it past him. “Of all the pictures out there of me on the internet, you just had to find the worst one.”
“What can I say… it’s a gift.” He rolls the poster back up and shoves it into his pocket. “I told Aubrey I’d try to make it back before it gets too late, so I’m out.”
I nod. “No worries, man. I’m glad you came.” I offer him a half-smile. “Thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”
“I knew you would from those tense-ass texts you’ve been sending the last few days.” He winks, before hopping off the bus, singing “Fuck Brad” under his breath. And just like that, he’s gone.
Once I’m alone, I wait a few seconds before grabbing my phone and powering it up as I head back outside and lean against the bus.
I have a shit-ton of notifications, from Instagram and Facebook tags to tweets on Twitter, but I ignore them all and go straight to Jake’s missed call, returning it.
He picks up. “Hey, man. What the hell is all this shit on Facebook and Twitter about you kissing some girl on stage? There’s this new hashtag: #fuckbradshesbetteroffwithoutyou.” He stops for a second to laugh. “Good concert, I’m guessing?”
I laugh and blow out smoke. “The same as usual. Some asshole pissed me off and I had to act on it. You know me…”
“Thank fuck you didn’t end up in jail this time. You have an important trip to make soon. You’re still making our annual trip next week to my dad’s cabin, right?”
“Yeah.” I take another quick drag before tossing the cigarette. “I’ll be there. I haven’t missed one yet and I don’t plan to start now. The band will be fine without me for a bit, and I suppose jail will be too,” I add as a joke.
Jake laughs. “It’s Thursday through Tuesday this time. You staying the whole time or you got some shit with the band to take care of? You know they can come too. We’ll make room like last year.”
“I’ll be there Thursday, and there’s no way I’m leaving early. I’ll make it work. I always do. I’m flying to Temecula on Tuesday, so I don’t get stuck doing some shit that will keep me from making it. I’m not giving Jason the chance to keep me in LA for the next week doing signings, photoshoots, and whatever else he can think of. The guys might show up toward the end again.
“Sweet. I’ll tell the crew. They’re going to be happy, for sure. Things have been blowing up for you and the band over the last year. A small break will do you some good.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait.” I walk back toward the building, so I can get Melody those pictures that I promised her. I stop at the back entrance and ask the dreaded question I already know the answer to. “What about Alana?”
He sighs. “Yeah, man. You know she comes every year. Nothing is different this year. Sorry.”