Page 109 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

By the time the tour makes it to Montana, I’ve settled into a nice routine. I wake up and wherever we happen to be, I pack away my makeshift bed of a kitchen table, get dressed, then go for a walk to find coffee and stretch my body out. It also gives me ample time to get out and clear my head before I say something stupid again. God, what was I thinking? His jacket smells good? I’m such an idiot. One thing that’s been made perfectly clear by that interaction is Dave and I can’t be friends.

It sucks, but at least it’s given me an understanding of how to be with him. Indifferent and casual. There is an upside, though. I thought that we would be stuck shoulder to shoulder on this bus for days and weeks at a time. But I’ve seen less and less of him. When we’re not driving, the guys are rehearsing or writing new music, and I’ve been either writing at local coffee shops or at the back of the theater, or sometimes, when there aren’t many nice places to go, in a motel room. And when we are all crammed on the bus together? Dave usually goes to sleep, pulling the curtain across his bunk.

At least the rest of the guys are fun to hang out with. Joel and Key are hilarious and James, for being the youngest, seems wisebeyond his years. Periodically, I spy Joel and Key opening the cupboard—the one with the wristbands. I haven’t seen Dave reach for any, but maybe he’s trying to be respectful and not flaunt it in my face. I’ve seen the girls though—the ones who hang off of him.

The ones wearing wristbands, who end up backstage with hair a mile high and barely any clothes on. But he’s been true to his word and when I’m around, he doesn’t do much more than talk to them. At least he’s not making out with or groping anyone when I’m in the room. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took them back to his motel room. I generally don’t stick around too much backstage after the show. Thankfully no one has been hooking up on the bus that I know of, but what they get up to after I head to bed, who knows? Maybe Dave hooks up with the girls backstage, like Key and Joel do.

Maybe I just need to accept it and move on.

Everything else aside, I’ve been writing a lot, and I meana lot. And not just about the guys, but about myself too and how it feels to travel around with them. It’ll never make the final version of the feature, but it’s something I want to remember—immortalize. The journal Dave gave me is more than half full by now, and I just wish I had some more input from him about the tour and the seemingly ever-growing success of their little band.

Of course, I never told him it was me who ensured the band’s name was on the marquee in Seattle. There was no way I could. If I did, he might figure out that I have his list. And instead of returning it to him like a normal person I’ve kept it with me like some stalker. While I didn’t stick around to see his reaction, he mentioned to the guys several times how it was something he had always dreamed of seeing. It felt good to see him happy.

“We’re here,” Barney says, calling through the curtain as I feel the bus slow down and finally stop.

I look over at the clock on the microwave. It’s a little afterseven in the evening. I haven’t eaten yet, as I’ve gotten too engrossed in editing my work from the last two weeks, but now that we’re here, I think I might try to find a diner.

“Anyone want to get the hell out of here and find something to eat?” Dave asks, peeking out of his bunk.

“Actually, I’m going to try to find a payphone so I can call Becks,” James says, grabbing his coat and wallet and heading for the door. “I said I’d call when we got here.”

“Yeah, we could eat,” Key says. “Miss Rodriguez? Care to join us for some dinner?”

I smile, my eyes briefly flicking to Dave. If he had asked it to be just the two of us, I would’ve politely declined and eaten a pile of saltines with jelly for dinner. But the fact that it’ll be a group of us? That seems safe.

“Sure, sounds good.”

We check ourselves into a really rad motel that has an indoor heated pool. All of the rooms back onto it and I find myself wishing I brought a bathing suit. But first we set out on foot to find a place to eat. The Montana air is crisp and clean and while it’s cold, it’s not unpleasant. After a few minutes of walking, we spot a neon sign in the distance.

“The V Lounge?” I say, squinting to make sure I read it right.

“Oh, brilliant!” Joel says.

“Joel,” Dave says exasperatedly. “We can’t take Isabella there.”

Joel looks to me as though he’s forgotten something. “Oh, shit . . . right. Uhh—”

“Why?” I ask.

Dave’s lips twitch, then he leans forward, his mouth so close to my ear my whole body breaks out into goosebumps. “It’s a strip club.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I’m really hungry. But you guys can go. I’ll just head to that place there,” I say,pointing to a vibrant blue neon sign next to it with the word “diner.”

Joel does a double take. “They probably have food at the club, lots of those places have buffets.”

My mouth drops open.

Key laughs, but Dave frowns. “Joel, you’re a moron. Only you would think a stripper buffet is acceptable.”

He thinks about it for a moment, then looks at me. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be subjected to that.”

“It’s fine if you want to go,” I say. “I’m a big girl. I can get my own food that hasn’t had nipple tassles near it.”

Dave laughs, and my chest swells at the thought he laughed because of me.

“You sure?” Key asks.

“Go have fun,” I say with a smile.

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