Page 34 of The Devil's Tattoo
Chapter9
The tour continued like clockwork,and each and every show we played was a hell of a lotoffun.
When I was up on stage, I was someone else. I let go and rolled with it, putting everything I had into every note. The applause and the whistles came in droves, and not once did I fall off the drum kit. Simone kept updating our Facebook page with an assortment of photos she took backstage, and it was a lot of fun to read through the comments and write back little status updates. I saved all my favorites onto my own phone and looked at them first thing in the morning to remind myself where I was now and where I wasstaying.
Right up until we’d left on tour, I shied away from social media. I deleted all my profiles and got a new email address after I broke my arm. The moment I’d gotten out of the hospital and checked all the notifications, I almost had a breakdown. The amount number of hateful things left all over my newsfeed by people I’d once counted as friends…it was devastating. I promptly canceled my internet service and only looked at my emails once in a while from my phone. The only apps I had on it—other than the ones that came with the thing—were for the weather and a stupid game or two. I turned old school and brought music magazines and listened to the radio. For all intents and purposes, I’d fallen off the face of the digital earth. And my savings account skyrocketed with the lack of a billtopay.
I still didn’t have any personal profiles, but with Simone at the helm of the band’s internet presence, I didn’t need to worry. She knew a little about what had happened and had promised me she’d watch out for anything nasty, but so far, there was nothing but positivecomments.
Operation ‘Avoid Will Strickland at all Costs’ was going well so far. When I was forced to speak with him, it was short and polite. We had two more days in Sydney, and then we were going toward Canberra. We were doing a few more interviews and promo shoots for some local magazines, but we didn’t have a show to worry about for a little while. I loved to play, but I was also glad for thebreak.
“Hey, Zo!” Frank came bounding into Dee’s and my hotel room a little too boisterously forninea.m.
“Ugh!” I cried, pulling a pillow over my head. “I know I’m awake, but tone it down. I’m exhausted even listeningtoyou.”
“Up and Atom!” he chortled, and I didn’t miss The Simpsonsreference.
“What’sgoingon?”
“Interview, Zo Zo. Theywantyou.”
“Do they just? Can’t they want me at about eleventhirty?”
“Will and Pete are going,” he said. “They want youandDee.”
Great, but instead, Isaid, “Fine.”
“It’s a print thing, so they’re just goingdownstairs.”
“Is that meant to be a sellingpoint?”
He laughed at my lack of enthusiasm. “Dee’s already there. He said to tell you that you’ve got thirty minutes before theygethere.”
After I showered and made myself look presentable, I made my way downstairs, my stomach doing little flip-flops. By the time I actually walked into the bar, I felt physically sick. Looking across the room, I saw Dee wavingmeover.
There was one seat left, and I knew someone had done it on purpose. Dee was on one side, and Will was on the other. Somehow, I just knew they were in league with each other, and I didn’t know who I was annoyed at more. I should’ve known something was up when I saw them talking side of stage last night, all buddy-buddy and whispering in the corner like gossiping little girls. At what point did Dee decide to push me right in front of Will instead of pulling me away? I thought he was bad news in my bestfriend’seyes.
I reluctantly sat down as Dee smiled at me. “Took your time. Got you a coffee. You’re welcome.” He knew I wanted to yell at him, but we always had that ESP thing going ever since the day wefirstmet.
“I’m exactly on time,” I hissed, overly conscious of Will sitting beside me. “I want to talk to youlater.”
He just grinned at me knowingly as the interviewer introducedherself.
I had no idea what half the questions were. I vaguely heard Dee answering most of them. Pete was there too, I suppose. Out the corner of my eye, I watched as Will pulled his hands off the table and folded them in his lap. I almost jumped out of my chair when I felt his fingertips lightly brush across my knuckles. I forgot to breathe, I forgot we were being interviewed, I forgot where we were. I had a sudden image of me trailing my hand up the inside of histhighto…
I didn’t realize I was being spoken to until Dee elbowed me, and I snapped to attention, almost spilling my untouchedcoffee.
“What do you think, Zoe?” he prodded, trying to stifle alaugh.
“Sorry?” I asked, feeling my faceturningred.
“What’s it been like being on tour with each other?” the interviewer asked with a knowing smile. I hoped I just came across as tired, nothorny.
“What do I think?” I blinked. Even though everyone was looking at me, the only pair of eyes I could feel belonged to Will. “It’s our first major tour together, so it’s been helpful having a band along who’s done it all before.” Diplomatic. Even. Not at all desperatesounding.
“What do you think oftheseguys?”
I was put off by her question, but I had to answer, especially when everyone was staring at me. “They’re great musicians. Irespectthem.”
