Page 106 of Here's to Yesterday

Part III

Them

20

Tucker

Three MonthsLater

“Goodnight,Chicago!”

Pulling my guitar over my head and waving to the packed venue one last time, I make my way to the side of thestage.

“Great set, Tuck!” the stagehand yells as he takes my instrument from myhands.

I give him a distracted nod and head off toward my designated dressing room, flinging open the door and throwing my exhausted self down onto a black leatherchaise.

I’ve been on the road since two weeks after Tanner’s death. It turns out losing a brother sparks a fire under your ass to go live life because that shit is way tooshort.

The day after Maura and I went our separate ways, I squared shit away with Gary since he got a clean bill of health from his doctors, and handed over my contract to my preferred label. It’s a small studio set up in the heart of Boston that’s dedicated to building an authentic sound, the thing I was searching for most. The company loved my originals and wanted me to get out on the road as fast as possible. I spent the next week crammed inside a small studio, laying down five original songs and practicing a live set with a small band every chance Igot.

These past three months have been incredible. I’ve played dozens of venues, met awesome fans, and have gained a ton of experience. Being around other musicians who understand how much the music means has been humbling. I spend my nights playing those five songs opening up for Drive, a small alternative quartet that’s rapidly gaining popularity on the radio. Because of their success and association with their tour, I’ve gained a rather decent following myself. I learned how to get through various interviews and what it feels like to be bombarded by fans and flashinglights.

Best of all are the people. I’m surrounded by musicians and fans who understand the music and the absolute need to have it in their lives. That’s something I didn’t get before all this. I always felt like the odd one out who could always hear music in the background of every situation, the weird one who would just daze out and write for hours at a time. But this is my element, where I belong. The tour has taught methat.

There’s one thing that’s missing in all of this:Maura.

No matter how much the music makes me feel and puts me at ease, I still feel like IneedMaura in my life. I miss her. I miss her bubbly laugh, her vibrant smile. I desperately want to hold her and kiss away all of her problems. I want it all withher.

None of this means anything without her. None ofit.

I realize now that it’s time. It’s time to go back home and see her. Ineedto.

A knock sounds at my door, and in walks my tour manager, James. I was worried I wasn’t going to get along with the tour team, but everyone has been nice, especially James. He’s been my “go-to” when I need to get all this weight of Tanner and Maura and life off my chest. He’s become more of a friend than amanager.

“Yo, man. We need to finalize the length of your contract for this next leg of the tour,” James says, taking a seat on the couch opposite of me, his ever-present clipboard in hand. “We’re going international, so we need to make sure your passports are up todate.”

The expression on my face must be telling him what’s up, because before I can even tell him, heguesses.

“And you’re not going. You’re done,huh?”

I nod. “For now. I need to get some shit together at home before committing to anythingelse.”

My record label was kind enough—and believed in their ability to make me fall in love with them—to give me a five-song contract with a three-month touring package. After the three months are up, my royalties get cut in half, but I walk free, keeping the rights to my music. It’s an insanely epic deal that’s almost unheardof.

James clears his throat and says, “I understand. I hope you’re still interested in signing on for more in the nearfuture.”

“I am,” I tell him honestly. I plan on talking with the CEO back in Boston after I get home, because I’d love to sign on doing a full album with the company. They’ve been more than accommodating, and we seem to work well together as ateam.

“So does this mean next week in Boston will be your last stop? You going to stay there and finally tell that blonde babe of yours that you’re hopelessly in love with her, and make those around you want to vomit with how you go on and on and on abouther?”

“Something likethat.”

“Good. Just make sure you talk to Casey afterwards. If things get figured in a timely manner, I’m sure Drive would be more than happy to have you on for their international dates,” James informsme.

“Damn, you assholes are fucking good. All understanding and shit,” Igrin.

James gives a hearty laugh and pulls himself off the couch. “We’re just buttering you up is all.” He turns the doorknob and throws a glance over his shoulder at me. “Get some rest, dude. We’ve got eight gigs in the next seven days with those radio shows and interviews. There’s not much to help in the way of beauty, but at least rest that voice ofyours.”

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