Page 46 of Electric Wounds
The morning sun beams down, casting long shadows on the pavement as we load our luggage back into the tour bus. After the break at the hotel, the air feels charged with a renewed energy, and there’s a camaraderie among us that had been missing for a while. The hotel was a nice reset, but now it’s time to hit the road again.
I toss my bag inside the open door and glance around at the guys. Enzo’s already on the bus, fiddling with his bass, his dark hair falling over his eyes in that brooding way of his. He’s got this intense look on his face, his sharp jawline set with focus. Dylan’s laughing loudly with Jax about something, his short brown hair flopping as he waves his arms, gesturing wildly. Even Jax, who’s usually more reserved, looks lighter today. His dark hair is a tousled mess, and his green eyes sparkle with a rare hint of mischief.
Lily steps out of the hotel, her face glowing in the morning light. Her blonde hair surrounds her like a halo, and it seems fitting with her personality. She’s been the glue holding us together, somehow bringing out a lightness that we’ve never really had before. She walks over to me, and I give her a wink.
"Ready to hit the road?" I ask, feeling the buzz of excitement. I’m itching to get back on stage, even if the hotel was a nice treat.
"Ready as I’ll ever be," she replies with a smile.
We climb onto the bus, everyone settling into their usual spots. It feels like coming home, with the familiar, slightly worn interior and the comforting hum of the engine. I take my seat on the couch, absentmindedly strumming my guitar as the bus rumbles to life.
"Alright, let’s get this show on the road!" Dylan calls out as he plops down nearby, his voice filled with his usual enthusiasm, like he can make anything sound like an adventure.
Jax sits beside me, eyes shining with anticipation. "I’ve got a good feeling about this leg of the tour," he says, voice low but filled with optimism.
"Me too, man," I reply, sharing the sentiment. "Me too."
As we pull away from the hotel, the energy on the bus is infectious. Enzo starts telling a story from one of our early gigs, his voice animated as he recounts how chaotic it got when the sound system blew out mid-performance.
"And then," Enzo says with a smirk, "Marcus here decides to go acoustic and pulls out ‘Wonderwall’ to calm the crowd down. It was hilarious."
"Hey, it worked, didn’t it?" I retort, laughing along with the others.
“You just probably should have chosen one ofoursongs,” Jax adds, his tone teasing. “I think I made up half the lyrics to that song because I don’t listen to that shit.”
“No one could even hear you.” Enzo rolls his eyes. “It was a small venue, but you were one voice and one acoustic guitar in front of a few hundred people.”
Lily’s sitting across from me, her eyes wide with amusement as she follows the conversation, pinging her head back and forthlike she’s at a tennis match. "I would’ve loved to see that," she says, shaking her head.
"You’ll get plenty more chances to see us mess up," Dylan chimes in, winking at her. "Stick around long enough, and you’ll have stories of your own."
"Yeah, and not all of them will be about Marcus being the hero," Enzo adds, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
The banter flows easily, and the miles roll by. It feels good—this is how it’s supposed to be. I catch Enzo’s eye, and for a brief moment, we share a silent understanding. No matter the ups and downs, we’re a band, a family. And it’s finally starting to feel that way again, with Lily.
Just as I’m settling into the rhythm of the road, the bus jolts suddenly, and the engine sputters. The humming noise that typically accompanies us turns into a few loud clunking noises before dying out completely. We crowd around the window, watching as the bus coasts to a stop on the side of the highway. The driver has us pulled onto a shoulder and traffic continues to pass us by.
"What the hell?" Jax mutters, frowning in confusion.
Dylan groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe this gas guzzler just needs some oil or something."
“I’ll check.”
I open the door and meet our driver outside. He waves me off as he rounds the front to check the massive engine on the bus. “Go back inside, I’ll check in. Give me a few,” he mutters.
Ignoring him, I wait by the door. If it’s bad news, I want to get ahead of it, not tell everyone on the bus all at once. We’re finally in a better spot, and I’m not going to let this dampen the mood. The asphalt radiates heat beneath my feet, reflecting the sun back at me tenfold, and within seconds I regret my decision to stand outside.
Five minutes pass, and just as I’m about to return inside, our driver reappears. “Looks like it should be a quick fix, but it’s not something I can do. I’m gonna need to put in a service call.”
I nod. “Any idea how long?”
He looks back at the front, then returns his gaze to me. “An hour?”
“Okay, thanks,” I mutter, not feeling fully confident in his response. I return inside anyway and relay the news to the band. “We’ll be stopped here for about an hour.”
Lily stands next to me, her eyes scanning the horizon out the small window that’s been propped open to circulate some air. "What now?"
"We wait," Enzo says, sounding resigned. "And hope it’s nothing too serious."
