Page 33 of Backstage

“Of course, you agree with your Lilly. God forbid you disagree for once. But we’re on tour, so I’m going to take advantage of the girls who throw themselves at me and give it to me good—without me having to beg,” says Taylor somewhat desperate sounding.

We all burst out laughing in the face of our drummer’s desperation.

“So, have you decided where you’re going to fuck yet?” thunders Damian’s voice from the front of the bus.

“Not in here,” I say, pushing the guys in my band into the living area. “I have no intention of finding myself with a bunch of half-naked girls in the bathroom or moaning on the other side of the wall all night,” I explain to the Jailbirds, who are now sitting on the couch.

They’re so big, they take up all the available space, and I’m starting to miss the air in here. They have an amused smile on their lips. I hadn’t calculated that the tour bus would be the biggest problem. One thing I’ve carefully avoided saying and that only Luke knows is that I’m claustrophobic: I have no idea how I’m going to sleep in those narrow cubicles.

“Aren’t you going to have any fun?” Thomas asks me, maliciously. “After all, what happens on tour stays on tour.” He winks, uninhibited.

I watch him, pretending to be annoyed. “Wasn’t it Vegas? Anyway, of course, I’m going to have fun, but not on this bus... You know, I can get a little...noisy in certain situations.” I raise an eyebrow, cross my arms over my chest, and flash a big smile that makes him laugh.

I look at Damian and see a mix of feelings on his face: anger mixed with excitement.

Simon adds, “Lilly’s right. They have to set some rules, or they’re going to slaughter each other within two weeks of the tour. It’s hard to share such tight spaces.”

Michael pushes him with a friendly punch. “Just because you’re the saint of the group doesn’t mean others have to be like you. He soundproofed the rooms of our tour bus, poor thing,” he jokes, looking around at all of us.

“I find myself staying up all night because of your shagging,” Simon complains, pushing his friend in turn.

“Wait, you guys have separate rooms?” Luke asks, almost intoxicated by the news.

The guys look at each other, frowning like we’re complete idiots.

“Of course, we have separate rooms, we have a double-decker bus. We’re the most famous band in the world. You want us to move like rats trapped inside those stuffy cubicles? We’ve been doing this for years, and we’ve had enough,” says Damian, outraged.

“Sorry I asked,” whispers Luke, almost embarrassed, and we all burst out laughing.

“If you don’t get laid in here, you’re gonna need the gym... And before you ask, do not to bring girls in there. I don’t want to work out on your bodily fluids,” Michael admonishes.

“Do we have a gym?” asks Taylor.

Thomas explains, “It’s the windowless bus you saw outside. When we’re on tour, we can’t find a new gym in every city or spend our time taking selfies with people who recognize us. So we thought we’d fill a bus with equipment and take it with us. If you can’t have fun with a woman, it’s a great way to blow off some steam, and you’re going to need it very soon.”

“Can we see it?” asks Martin, eyes out of his head with enthusiasm.

“Not now,” Damian answers. “We’re about to leave, and you can’t use it while we’re on the move, but at the first stop, we do the full tour. Although, I’m sure you already know how to use the weights.” He gesticulates toward our guitarist’s sculpted physique as his chest swells with pride.

“I’ve always wondered why you use tour buses when clearly you can afford private jets for travel and hotel rooms,” asked Martin intrigued.

In fact, we’ve wondered about it in recent months. Why travel long distances by bus when they can just take the plane?

“Because this young man here,” Damian explains, pointing at Simon, “is terrified of flying. We’re thinking of hiring an anesthesiologist to drive us around when we have to leave the United States, and can’t travel on the ground. We hate it so much we’re seriously considering knocking him out for the duration of the flight.”

Everybody laughs, including Simon, but I totally get it. I know what it’s like to be terrified of something. For me, it’s the tight spaces, like the cubicles I have to sleep in.

“Okay, we’re going that way, we’re leaving in ten minutes, so take your seats and get settled in. This will be your home for a long time,” Thomas says before he gets his friends up and out of our living room.

We sit around the table and look at each other, one part stunned and skeptical, the other part excited.

“So, we’re really going, huh?” I say excitedly.

My stomach has been twitching since last night with nervousness and pleasure. I have to admit this adventure excites me, and, little by little, I realize that I like the idea of doing this life. Everything has been going well since we started with the club tour. It’s true, the press is killing me, but I’ve learned to avoid them at all costs: I don’t read it, I don’t want to get caught unprepared by the comments on socials, so I’ve just tried to be casual about it and haven’t gone into crisis mode yet. Sure, I work out a little more than usual, but it’s a healthy way to relieve stress, right? Evan was right. I just need to find my own space in the end. I look at my bandmates and see their excitement, their happiness in being here.

“Yes, but we have to take turns fucking,” Martin continued.

I roll my eyes at him and wish for a bolt of lighting. “Is it possible that you don’t have anything else to think about? Maybe you won’t find anyone who will give it to you,” I provoke him.

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