I couldn't see.
That's Colt, the drummer, I realized. I'd know him from any distance; almost as easily as I'd know Drezden.
He spotted me, a smile warming his gaunt features. “Hey! Lola! We were waiting on you, I even joked that you'd run off.”
As if that was what he was waiting for, the driver jerked the bus forward and onto the road. I was violently jostled; I grabbed a seat, partially falling into it with my bags on top of me. “Sorry!" I said, struggling to get my balance. "I just needed my things. Should I put them somewhere?”
Shrugging, he jerked his head towards the curtain, where he'd come from. “Probably back here. Come pick a bunk.”
A bunk? My chest thrummed at the idea. Do they have real beds here? No sleeping with my neck crushed at an angle on a window? Carefully I stood, rocking down the aisle after Colt.
The black curtain revealed that the rear of the vehicle was just as startling as the rest. There were alcoves along the aisle, most covered by more curtains. Small rooms, but certainly grand when compared to where I'd been sleeping.
“Drop your bag there, but keep your guitar,” he said. Nodding, I abandoned my stuff on the mattress of the nearest empty room. Colt motioned with his fingers, so I followed him deeper into the bus.
What I found next blew my mind.
The entire back of the bus was set up like a studio. There were speakers, wires, and a thick padding all over the walls to soften the noise. It was a little bit cramped, but it was also a fucking mobile studio. I couldn't judge the space too hard.
Drezden and Porter were lounging, toying with their gear. At my arrival, all eyes flipped up to stare at me. Unsure what else to do, I wiggled my fingers in a weak wave. "Hi guys."
Porter strummed his bass, blonde faux-hawk glowing from the sunlight streaming in through the tiny window above. “Welcome to the party,” he grunted.
Drezden said nothing, twisting a bottle of water in his palms. Across his knee I saw a wire, the microphone dangling like a ripe piece of fruit from a vine. The intensity around him, even with the others so near, made my throat tight.
He has eyes like a killer, I realized. It called to mind the talk about Johnny Muse, how Drez had beaten him into a bloody mess. Stop it, brain. I never saw that, don't give me creepy imaginary images. Even so, red blood filled my mind's eye.
“You want something to drink?” Colt asked, sliding around me towards a cooler. At my nod, he tossed me a bottle. I fumbled, clutching it to my chest. He dropped down by his drums, expert hands going for the smooth sticks. “We should be blunt with you, Lola.”
They were quiet, waiting for my response. Blinking, I sat down on a bench against the wall, furthest from Drez as I could get. “Sure. Okay, go ahead, be blunt.”
Colt parted his lips, but it was Drezden who spoke first. He was soft, brisk; an autumn breeze. “We've got two days until the next tour stop. We need you ready, or we're going to look like assholes up on stage. Get me?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked, then tried again. “Yeah. I get it, don't worry. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to impress the world.”
The drummer rolled his neck, the giant gauges in his ears rattling. “You say that now. Wait until you survive this practice, then we'll see how eager you are.”
His doubt rattled me, a sourness etching into my voice. “I'll be fine,” I said, breaking out my guitar to tune it. I squeezed the pegs too hard, my skin aching. Do they think I'm some pathetic newbie?
Rustling noises made me look up. Drezden was there, standing over me so I was level with his waist. He crouched, offering me some papers, enveloping me in the warm scent of tobacco and oranges.
Fuck, he smelled good.
“Here,” he said, waving the pages. For the first time I noticed the bandage over his knuckles. “Music notes for our songs. You'll want to follow along, even if you think you know them already. We'll start with Black Grit.”
I was blushing, why was I blushing? He had a vibe that was overwhelming. It suffocated me, dared me to inhale more of his existence or to let myself pass out in a daze. Focus, take the papers.
My fingers shook when I did.
Calm the fuck down! I