Page 25

“Actually, it is. We’re living together on this bus. I get a front-row seat to the Quinn Show whether I like it or not.”
I want to tell him to get out, to leave me the hell alone, but I don’t. Instead, I sit there, breathing heavily, willing the anger away. It doesn’t work.
“She left,” I finally say.
It takes me a minute to look at Ajay, to make sure he’s heard me. He nods, like he already knew but needed me to admit it. I suppose in some sense, by doing so, there’s some finality in the situation. Nola left me. She took off her ring, one I put there as a promise of my love and dedication to her.
“I’m sorry,” he says with a soft sigh as he shakes his head. “Sometimes people just need time apart.”
I wish that’s all this was—time apart—but deep down, I feel like it’s more. “I think I should’ve seen it coming.”
“Really?”
I scrub my hands down my face, frustration pouring out of me. “Yeah. I don’t know, man. Part of me feels like the writing was on the wall, but then I start to wonder if I looked too deeply into shit because I want what my sisters have.”
“I don’t blame you. I know this is probably the last think you want to hear right now, but reconnecting with Jamie has been the best thing to ever happen to me.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I have anything to say. Ajay went from living the single life to being tossed in jail when we got within fifty miles of his hometown because his father-in-law had it out for him, to being a stepdad to an amazing little girl whom my parents adore, and now he’s a father to his own kid.
“Talking helps,” he says, breaking the silence. “We’ve been there. So has Keane, and Dana. Hell, Hendrix might even have some sage advice.”
I want to laugh but don’t. Hendrix and advice normally don’t go hand in hand, but what the hell do Iknow?
“Regardless, we’re your bandmates, not your punching bags. We make decisions together as a band. We work together, live together, perform together. And when I see my lead struggling, I’m going to say something.”
I shut my eyes and exhale. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to stop thinking about my relationship, or lack thereof.
“Just give me some time,” I say, my voice breaking slightly.
Ajay gives me a nod and then leaves without another word.
I sit back and rest my head against the cushion. My eyes close, and my legs move the chair back and forth. I now know why Ollie likes to be rocked to sleep. This shit is soothing.
Still, the note burns a hole in my wallet, and her ring weighs heavily against my chest. They’re all I have of her because she took all of her things when she left, including my heart.
I’m a shell of who I am. Who I should be.
I’m here, but I’m not.
I’m with her, in South Carolina, waiting on the cusp of nothingness until she tells me everything will be okay.
The pit stopis a gas station somewhere between the middle of nowhere and who-the-hell-cares-ville. Everyone piles out for the snacks not stocked on the bus, to stretch, and for a chance to breathe air that doesn’t smell like stale coffee and ass.
I stay back.
I should get off the bus. Walk around. Pretend I’m happy. Instead, I lay in my bunk, fingers digging into my scalp as I stare at the ceiling. My leg bounces uncontrollably, nerves itching under my skin.
When did the tour bus start feeling like a prison?
When did I think of it as a prison?
I grew up on a bus, and as a kid, this was the life. I had everything I wanted, but mostly I had my dad until he had to go to work, and then I could stay on the bus and watch TV, go to the green room and chill, or watch the show. I’ve lost count of how many 4225 West concerts I’ve seen.
At the time, I didn’t know how famous my dad was. I think I was about six when it first hit me who my dad was. We were at a mall, trying to shop for clothes, and the women were rabid. Chasing us, touching me, grabbing at him. Mall security came and ushered us into a back room.
It was miserable.
I was miserable and just wanted to get some new clothes. My grandma ended up taking me the next day. She was the alternative.