Page 19 of Love on Tour
“That, my friend, is your new Tinder photo.”
“I don’t have Tinder. Do I look like I’d have Tinder?” Christine asked.
“When you wear your black leather jacket and let your hair go all long and curly, you kinda do.”
Christine waved her off while thinking that was one hell of a compliment.
“Maybe Matt’s on Tinder and you can swipe right,” Julianna said, picking up her phone and pretending to swipe right.
“Or he will see me on Tinder and swipe left, or whatever someone does when they aren’t interested,” Christine said.
“Geez. How did I never notice how negative you are?”
“’Cause you’ve never known me to be interested in a guy. My limited experience has not been positive,” Christine said, shaking her head.
“I get you had a really bad experience. Horribly bad. But, Christine, most men are decent guys. They’d never hurt a woman or force themselves on her. Did you get any creepy vibes around Matt?”
“None. Not the slightest bit. He may be the hottest, most normal guy I’ve ever met in this business.”
“Trust your instincts.”
“Please don’t say anything to Phoebe about my crush on Matt. She’ll just tease me about it.”
“Won’t say a word.”
Phoebe showed up right as the music started and all conversation ended. The great thing about the Bluebird was that people actually came to hear the songs, not to talk over them. Christine missed the last name of the guy who had just been introduced but caught that his first name was Justin. He mentioned being from across the pond, which was unnecessary as his English accent gave him away. His music was simple, staying within the three-chord progression of traditional country songs, but his lyrics were deep. These weren’t songs about partying, drinking beer, and driving trucks. He got to the heart and soul of family, with the verses going from grandparents to parents to his life and what they’d taught him. His voice was deep and always on key. She made a note to get his last name and contact information. Country music had once been known for its ability to tell a story, but it had started to get away from that as newer styles proved successful with the audience. Justin’s songs told stories that had the audience close to tears at times and laughing at others. The two best emotions for a song.
THE NEXT DAY, CHRISTINE PACKEDher clothes. She went with sweatpants and a tank top to sleep in. She’d be comfortable and fully covered. After that, she struggled. Should she go cute with a little dress, business with a blazer, or casual with jeans and tops? She didn’t want to overpack, but she also wanted options. She added two pairs of jeans, two tops, and a baby-doll dress. She put on a black leather jacket and a pair of boots. Both would go with all the outfits.
She met at the designated Kroger parking lot at 8:00 p.m. They had a twelve-hour drive and needed to load in at ten in the morning. Add in some fuel stops and they’d be right on time.
“Chrissy. You made it,” Austin said.
“I did. There’s a lot of people here,” she said, mentally counting heads as people loaded luggage into the compartments under the bus. She knew a standard tour bus had twelve bunks.
“Three band members, Alicia, a sound guy, a guitar tech, Matt, a bus driver, me, and you.”
She counted ten people, and eight of them were guys. It was an incredible amount of testosterone.
“One day, I’ll have two tour buses. But for now, we’re all squeezed on here. But we have room for you.”
She stepped onto the bus with her oversized backpack and looked into the lounge. There were couches on both sides of the bus, each facing a flat-screen TV. One of the guys was channel surfing. Another was putting food and drinks into the fridge in the kitchen area while two sat across a table from each other playing cards. Alicia sat on a couch with her feet propped up on a box. Her baseball cap sported the famous Rolling Stones tongue logo. She looked up and gave Christine the peace sign. “Nice jacket,” she said.
“Thanks. Nice hat.” Christine hoped she and Alicia could form an estrogen bond. Women in the industry needed to stick together.
She noticed a closed door and assumed it was the bathroom. Then she walked through the lounge into the center area that held the beds. There were twelve, two rows stacked three high on both sides of the bus. Austin offered her his bed since it was a bottom bunk and, apparently, they were the best. She felt guilty taking it and said she’d be fine in the top bunk—until she tried to climb into it.
“What if I fall out?” she asked.
“You won’t,” Austin assured her.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. But nobody else ever has, so I have to assume you won’t, either.” It was a weak guarantee, but she nodded anyway.
“Are you sure you won’t take my bunk?” Austin said, pointing to it.
Christine imagined what all had gone on in that bunk and gave an internal shiver. No soap was strong enough to get all that out.
