See Her (Turn it Up #1)

Chapter 33

33

MAYZIE

D id I mention this sucks? The next couple of weeks are painful and lonely.As promised, Jack calls me every day when he wakes up, which is usually late morning. Some days it’s even noon with the hours they’re keeping.Our conversations are always the same : I miss you, wish you were here, wish I was there, etc.

Some mornings I wake up and just lay there for a while, trying to psyche myself up to shower and get my day started.

I go through the motions, doing yoga, writing, and going to the dance studio a lot.It is good to be back to hanging out with Annie, and I eat that up. The girl never fails to make me laugh and show me a good time. It helps the time go by, too.

Jack always tries to FaceTime me in that pocket of time between sound check and the show. Sometimes, he literally only has two minutes because the managers have packed that time with meet-and-greets or interviews, but he does it anyway, and it’s good. I always try to smile for him, even when it’s a phone call instead of FaceTime. Even when it’s a call with bad news…

I sit here on the edge of my bed, flipping my phone over and over in my hands, trying to ward off the heaviness trying to consume me. I look to the photo of my wedding day that sits on the be dside table, trying to reaffirm to myself that this is the real deal; real love. I have to keep pushing.

My phone rings in my hands, making me jump, and I feel a tiny, traitorous zing of hope at the idea it’s Jack calling me back to tell me that he was mistaken – that he and the guys will be back in two weeks as originally planned.

I don’t mean to sound so bummed about seeing Annie’s name before I answer, but it’s hard to help, especially only moments after my emotional FaceTime with Jack.

“Hey,” I mumble in greeting.

“Wow, you sound spritely,” her tone deadpans on the other end.

“Jack just told me the tour is going so well that they’ve added them to the next leg,” I confide, feeling miserable.

“Oh, God.” Her voice drops on the other end and I can hear it switch from cynical to compassionate. “Aw, babe, I’m sorry. It’s… kinda good though, right?”

“It is,” I concede. “It’s really good. It means more followers and more exposure, and…” I trail off as I shake my head at myself. I’m being a baby over my husband’s success. I’m being a fucking needy-ass, whiney wife, because I miss him. “It’s just incredible, and I can’t believe it,” I finish, amending where my words were actually going.

“It’s okay to be upset because you miss him,” she gently prods.

“Yeah… it’s going to be six more weeks now instead of two,” I reveal on a heavy sigh.

I’m met with silence on the other end for a few beats, but I swear I hear the wheels turning in her brain.

“We’re going out tonight,” she finally declares.

For a moment, I want to resist; to just tell her I’m going to snuggle down in my bed and watch stupid movies, but what the hell am I going to do with the rest of the next few weeks? I can’t just hole up as much as I might want to at the moment, I’ll go insane , and Jack will come back to a miserable, sad sack who can only exist when he’s around.

No. Jack deserves better, and so the fuck do I.

“Where?” I finally breathe into the phone and attempt a faint smile, even if it’s only for myself.

Jack

I’m shouting into the mic up on Dallas’s stage, playing like it’s the last time that I ever will. Mayzie dances her cute ass off to deal with her emotions; I seem to be taking mine onto the stage with me, every show, to play through it. It’s therapeutic getting the crowd revved up, seeing them respond to the notes I’m playing and the words I’m singing.It’s a rush, and it gives me the boost I need to get through to the next day.

Since Mayzie left, I’ve been trying to focus on all the necessary aspects of doing this tour.I smile at interviews, I’m early for sound checks, and I practice with any of the guys whenever they feel like we need to. My head and my heart are not completely in it, but I’m trying. At the very least, I’m faking it well.And as shitty as I’m feeling with missing her, it’s giving me something to write. I have a feeling a seriously angsty, depressing, but relatable song is going to come out of this. The shows are the one place I don’t have to put on a brave face, though. No trying or pretending about it, I’m one hundred percent real and giving it my all when I’m up on stage, with Mayzie’s thin, black hair tie on my wrist, reminding me to keep going. She didn’t do what she did so I could half-ass this.

I’m going at it extra hard tonight because we just found out the label extended our leg by a month. My emotions are at war with each other inside me, causing a serious storm to brew. On one hand, I’m fucking pumped that the band is doing that well. The ex tension means big things, and it’s so gratifying to know that we could actually get somewhere with this, especially after all this time.But you know damn well what else it means, and that reality is hard to take.I called Mayzie earlier and broke the news, and she was happy for the band, but I could feel her through the phone, and I know it was hard for her to hear in the same way it was for me.She’s feeling the same kind of torn.

And while I’m unleashing my demons here on stage and the crowd is totally eating it up, it’s not my best. I’m struggling with a malfunctioning inner ear monitor, causing my voice to go off pitch a few times, and I mess up a couple of chords.The fans don’t seem to notice, but I do, and it sets me on edge. The damn thing was working fine at sound check, but it’s fucking me up right now.

After our set, I storm off the stage and head to the showers.When I’m out, I try to call Mayzie. Our conversation was a little rushed earlier as it was a few minutes before the show, and I told her I wanted to talk more about the tour extension after we were done. I send her a FaceTime request that goes unanswered, which only further exacerbates my already unpleasant demeanor.She knew I was going to get a hold of her, so where the hell is she? We really need to talk about things, communicate, even if it’s just to express how we’re feeling. George and Erin have told me this several times.It’s been almost two weeks without her, and I’m going crazy.I’ve been giving the band everything I have, I’ve been seriously trying to anyway, but I’m reaching a point where I feel like something’s got to give.After taking some time to brood and stew over things, I decide to head to the after party and make my way to the SUVs. It’s not sounding like my idea of a good time right now, but I just don’t know what else to do with myself.

The elevator doors part and I stride through the vestibule to the already open French doors leading into the penthouse, to find a crazy after party already in full swing. Just like every other one we’ve showed up to after a show, it’s already chock full of half-wasted fans, as if they’ve been waiting for us here all night. Well… for The Shock Wave anyway.

I take a few deliberate strides into the loud and flashy room, intent on finding the bar so I can drown my sorrows, but don’t get far when a blonde blur crashes into me, spilling the pink liquid of whatever was in her glass at our feet.

“Oops.” She stumbles back while I look down to see if any of her drink got anywhere on me. When I’m satisfied that I’m not going to smell like a Cosmo for the rest of the night, I look up to find the blonde still in front of me in a short black dress, with pink streaks in her hair. “I’m so sorry…” The words drone out slowly. She’s obviously lit.

“You seem like you’ve had a lot,” I observe, watching her close her eyes briefly with a dreamy giggle. She’s waving around her now empty glass, slinging droplets everywhere, and I gingerly take it from her, setting it down on a nearby high-top table before she hurts somebody.

“Mmm-hmmm… yeah, I’ve had…” She taps a finger to her chin like she’s deep in thought. “I don’t remember!” She tosses her hair with more annoying high-pitched giggling. Her swift and jerky gesture makes her sway on her heels and she lists to the side. Instinctually, I reach my hands out to steady her, and unfortunately, she mistakes my gentlemanly act for interest, her eyebrows lifting as she leans in, grabbing at the material of my shirt.

“Whoa, easy there.” I nervously maneuver her to take a couple of steps back, so that she’s literally at arm’s length. Again.“I’d say you’ve definitely had enough.”

“Wowww,” she slurs out and looks absently around the room as if it will give her an idea of something else to say, before her squinted eyes pop open a little wider. “You’re such a gentleman… and you’re right… I should probably… go to bed.” She raises a suggestive eyebrow to go along with that unwelcome come-on.

“Right,” I mumble, releasing her and stuffing my hands in my poc kets as I look around, trying to send the ‘not interested’ signal. “Do you have any friends here that can help you get back to your room?” I suggest.

“They’ve all already landed guys for the night.” She waves a clumsy arm. “I’m the last woman standing,” she borderline whines while batting her eyes up at me.

Fuck my life.

I don’t want to be the one to see this chick safely to her room, but I don’t see any kind of security or hotel personnel anywhere, and I doubt anyone else at this party even cares. Plus, I don’t need her following me around all night while I’m trying to blow off some steam. The sooner she’s out of the equation, the better.

I’ve been avoiding looking at her as I ponder this, but chance a glance at her condition to see her fading. She’s leaning herself against the table now, pushing both hands through her hair and closing her eyes. I recognize the room is spinning look from when I’ve seen it on Mayzie, and I know this girl needs to get out of here before she gets taken advantage of – whether she seems to care or not.

“Got your key?” I ask her over the pounding music, and she gives a slight nod as she looks up at me. “Let’s go, then. I’ll make sure you get to your room okay.”

She follows me the short walk back through the entryway where the elevator bank sits, and as she shuffles onto the car when the doors open, she stumbles. I catch her by the elbow and release her as soon as she’s steady. I hit the button when she tells me which floor she’s on, and I stand in the opposite corner with my arms crossed.

“So, are you a backup guitarist or something?” she asks with her head tilted back against the wall; her eyes shut against the harsh fluorescents of the elevator car.

“I’m nobody,” I tell her dismissively.

“You’re in one of the bands,” she argues. “You look too much like a rock god not to be.” She smiles, opening her eyes just slightly .

Time to shut this down.

“I’m married,” I inform her.

“So?”

Jesus. What the fuck kind of world have I landed in?

“So you won’t be getting anything from me except being safely escorted to your room,” I lay out for her.

“Like that really matters to you rock stars,” she snips bitterly, and I feel it suck all the oxygen out of the small car. I slowly blink and shake my head, not entertaining her drunken antics, but she’s not letting it go. She pushes off the wall of the car and takes a couple slow struts towards me. “Where’s your wife then?” she slyly challenges, placing her hands on the small of her back, making her chest push out.

“At home, where I want her,” I snap, lying my ass off with the second half of the sentence. “Safe, and away from bullshit like this.” I roll my eyes and thank everything holy when the doors open.

I let the blonde disembark first and follow a safe distance behind her as she teeters down the hallway. I don’t offer to steady her when she’s got a perfectly good wall running parallel to her stride.

When she stops in front of a door, she stares at the room number, swaying back and forth as she tries to bring it into focus while rifling through her small handbag.

“This your room?” I ask, trying to prod her along as I lean against the wall by the door.

“I’m pretty sure,” she nods sleepily as I hear a ding, signaling the arrival of an elevator car from another bank a few doors down. A gaggle of girls dressed similarly to the one I’m trying to shake come through, fawning over Josh who walks between them as they fawn and paw at him.

He chuckles suavely at the attention as one of the several women breaks away to fish her key card out of her purse to swipe it in the reader of a room across the hall and up a couple of doo rs, while the rest continue to giggle, and a couple hold up their phones for selfies.

Josh looks up and takes notice of me, and a couple of the girls follow his gaze. He says no words, but just stares at me like he wants to talk to me but doesn’t know what to say. The room door shifts open and his small gathering of groupies dart inside one by one, just as the blonde manages to do the same with her door. The movement gains my attention, but when I look her direction, she’s only holding it open as she looks me up and down once more.

“Last chance, rock star,” she tries to flirt, and reaches up to graze a hand down my torso, but I back away out of her reach.

“As I told you before,” I snap, making one last solid effort to hold onto my shit, “only one woman is allowed to touch me like that. Good night.”

I whip around before she can say anything in response, and stride off down the hallway in the direction of the other elevators.

I stab the UP button and wait impatiently for the doors to open so that I can try a take two of making the not obligatory but highly suggested appearance at the after party, and hopefully knock back just enough drinks to make this night end more quickly.

When the doors open, I step in and push the button for the penthouse, jamming my hands back in my pockets as the doors start closing. Before they can meet each other in the middle, however, there’s a jolt, and they jerk open again as Josh pushes through the small space. Once in the car, we have another brief stare off before he gives me a faint nod and mirrors my position as the doors close all the way this time.

I don’t offer anything back, as we haven’t spoken since Mayzie left. My anger with him has dissipated but not vanished. I’m not blind, however, to Josh’s own personal non-verbal language, and I know what he’s doing. He’s trying, which is fine. Let him try .

When the elevator pings and the doors part, I’m off and making a second attempt at heading to the bar.

A couple of people are already passed out, and the place is overpopulated with females, some of whom have already lost their tops.This is ridiculous.

I dodge chatty girls and strung-out party goers, and when I reach the bar, I pay no mind to Josh at my side in one way or another. I ask for a couple of shots of Johnnie Walker, and when he passes the tumbler to me I slam the contents back, as Matt turns up at my other side.

I don’t acknowledge him either, but I sense the solemn concern coming off him in waves. And as much as I’m trying to have tunnel vision and block everything else out so that I don’t go insane, I can tell in my peripheral there’s some kind of quiet exchange going on between my two bandmates.

I turn and lean back against the bar, just taking in the chaos around me.After the burning in my stomach from the alcohol dissipates, I realize the lonely ache in my chest faded just a little bit with it, so I order another…