Page 66 of Broken Melody
“And that happened like one…maybe two times,” Nixon says in protest. “You pick your toenails and it’s so fucking gross,” Nixon accuses Rocco.
“And you?” Sailor asks turning to me making me stop laughing. “What should I know about you?”
“You mean besides the fact that he walks around in his boxers scratching his ass?” Nixon says and I start to yell at him but then Henley adds, “Or that he meets a new chick at every tour stop?” My heart lurches in my chest at that comment and yelling at him suddenly takes priority. “Or when he’s really, really drunk how he sings everything he says instead of speaking it?” Rocco says.
“Hey, fuck you,” I say at a loss for who to scream at first – but I’m still thinking Henley. If I were the kind of guy that got red in the face when he was embarrassed, I would look like I’d been shoveling snow in a blizzard right now. I look at Sailor reluctantly only to find that she’s bent over at the waist laughing. “Don’t laugh at them! They’re assholes!” I tell her but she only laughs harder, which makes us laugh too.
“You guys all sound like brothers,” she says when she finally catches her breath. “I suppose it makes sense since you’ve been together so long. I know Maddox is an only child, like me, but do you guys have any brothers or sisters? I can’t believe how little I really know about you. We’ve been pretty much all business these weeks preparing and I really need to know some things.”
“I have two older brothers,” Rocco says.
“A sister and two brothers for me,” answers Henley.
“A younger sister,” Nixon replies.
“I’m jealous,” Sailor tells us. “I always wished for siblings. Especially after my parents passed away.”
At first, we’re all quiet, processing what it may have been like for a twelve year old Sailor to be left without any family.
“Well, it seems to me you have four of them now,” Henley says surprising all of us. I’d wince at the implication that I’m like a sibling to Sailor, but I appreciate Henley’s comment, so I refrain.
“Well, I for one can’t wait to see what it would have been like to have some. Farts and all,” she says with a laugh. Then she stands, “Anyone hungry? I thought I’d make us something to eat,” she says over her shoulder as she moves to the kitchenette and starts opening cupboards.
“Hell man, if she cooks too, I don’t know that I can keep feeling very brotherly,” Nixon says.
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl before I catch myself. Fortunately, they all just laugh at Nixon’s comments and don’t pay attention to me. Watching Sailor as she moves around preparing food, I know exactly what he means.
The rest of the night is spent with me wishing I could touch Sailor, talk to her one on one, whisper in her ear, hear her laugh just for me – but I can’t have any of that right now and the need is making me twitchy.
Sailor is all too aware of my feelings. At least if the brushes against my body, the looks she sends my way, and the stares we share, are any indication. We all retired a while ago and the other guys are already sleeping. Henley snores, Nixon talks in his sleep, and Rocco usually reads for a little while with his book light on before he turns it off and passes out. I’ve been lying here willing myself to fall asleep but all I do is toss and turn and wonder if Sailor is sleeping and what she’s wearing. All that does is make my blood flow to an uncomfortable place since I can do nothing to relieve myself at the moment. I pick up my phone and stare. There’s nothing worth looking at that I haven’t seen.
Finally, having enough, I decide maybe I’ll go have a snack or something when my phone vibrates under me. Digging it out from under my pillow I smile when I see Sailor is texting me. “Are you asleep?”
Smiling I return, “No. Thoughts of you naked are keeping me awake. In more ways than one.”
“Are the guys sleeping?” she asks next.
“Yes.”
“Come into my room.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. As quietly as possible I get out of my sleeping cubby, thankful that mine is on the bottom, and make my way to her bedroom in the back of the bus. On a whim I grab my guitar from where I was strumming it earlier and bring it with me.
Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible, I open the door to Sailor’s smiling face. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I close the door behind me and move to where she’s sitting on the bed. The space she has is small, but it’s hers. There’s a queen size bed and a dresser – it even has an attached bedroom. Usually the guys and I would alternate sleeping in the bedroom. Knowing she’s using it, we haven’t complained or said a word about it, not minding a bit.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask her.
“I think I’m just excited. There’s so much happening. Our album dropping, the magazine feature, it’s all making me unable to sleep.”
“It’s not dumb at all. I remember this feeling well. I’m not nervous now, but before we actually go on stage it will be a different story. I still get the jitters.”
“You do?”
“Definitely. It’s exciting and such a rush. Of course you’ll want everything to go perfectly, but the best thing you can do is know that nothing ever goes off without a hitch. You just learn to roll with it.”
“I can’t imagine being on a stage like the arena where we rehearsed and having that many people watching us.
