As Jane eyed the bag on the floor at their feet, her eyes lit up. She whispered a “thank you” as she turned his attention to him and smiled. But, that innocent smile had turned to one of pure desire as he felt his large hand grip her thigh. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath as she closed her eyes; all of her nerve endings seemed to be ignited by something so simple.

It was all so strange. Her and Rob. It was unthinkable, she assumed, for both of them during the duration of their friendship; seven years of never even fathoming that the other would turn into anything else. At least, that’s how it was for Jane – always so wrapped up with what was right in front of her that she became numb to it, never looking past it. If she was asked even a year ago if Rob simply touching her leg would set her on the fire the way it just did, she would have laughed. Yet here she was, counting down the minutes until they would arrive at their new hotel. Alone. With a day off tomorrow. No shows, no interviews, no plans.

Jane slipped her slender fingers into the space between his and rested her head on his shoulder. Her voice was sore and hoarse from the show, but that didn’t stop her from going back and forth on a debate about the genre of a few different bands with Austin and Sam until the van finally pulled up to the hotel. She sighed in relief.

The concierge desk allotted them four keys for two rooms this time, and Jane’s eyes snapped at Sam. “Do you tell your dad everything?”
Sam shrugged with a smirk tugging at his lips before walking off with Austin and leaving in an elevator without them.

She turned to the other side to face Rob. “I guess we’re bunk-mates tonight, yeah?” She grabbed his arm to bring him over to wait for an elevator, and after being overly-polite to the guests exiting on the ground floor, she yanked him inside and waited patiently for the door to close.

Bing. Jane wasted no time once the sliding, silver doors connected; she dropped her bag and jumped up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. Their eyes locked briefly before she began to kiss him all over from the neck up, speaking softly in between each one she pressed into his skin. “I need to… take a shower…then – ”

Bing. Three middle-aged men in business attire were waiting behind the elevator door as they reached their level, and Jane hopped down from Rob’s grasp, grabbed the bag from the floor, and nodded politely at them as she walked past, cheeks flushed. “Gentlemen.” As soon as the door closed once more, Jane turned back to Rob grinning from ear to ear, and she slipped the key card into the room’s door.

Another nice hotel, decorated with vases and artwork, lined with crisp white paint and golden accents. It had a decent sized kitchen, a living room area, a small patio, one bedroom housing a king-sized bed, and two bathrooms.

Jane immediately tossed her bag on the bed and walked to one of the showers. “Yeah,” she called out. “I’d invite you but this shower is fucking tiny.” She popped a head out from behind the bathroom’s door frame. “I’ll be out in a few.” After disappearing once again behind the door, she stripped and stepped into the shower and cranked the heat as hot as her skin could stand, mindlessly singing some tune as she worked shampoo and conditioner through her hair. Her hands got caught a few times as she attempted to cleanse it, and she decided that she’d need to brush her hair soon before it dreaded.

A half an hour later, after lathering her body in the hotel-provided body wash, she exited the shower and was hit by the cold air blowing through the vent above her, causing her to shiver as she wrapped the towel around her and quickly leave the bathroom. Rob was sitting there, looking as if he had just showered as well, and she plopped down next to him.

“Hey,” she greeted him coyly, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. With no warning, she pulled him down so he was hovering over her, both horizontal on the couch. Her fingers gripped his wet hair as she kissed him passionately, not taking any time to build up the moment; as far as Jane was concerned, the whole day had been a build-up. Jane had just begun to remove the towel wrapped around her as her phone began to vibrate in the other room. “Ugh,” she groaned and she slid out from under Rob. “Give me a minute.”

She scurried through the room and dug through her purse to see ”LENA” flashing on the screen. “Fuck,” she whispered as she debated whether to answer, but ultimately pressed the green button and held her breath for a moment.

Jane: Lena?
Lena: Jesus, Jane, I’ve been trying to call you for two weeks.
Jane: I know, I know, I’m sorry. Things have been really crazy out here.
Lena: By the looks of that article, yeah, I bet. Those MusicPlus assholes wouldn’t stop calling me.
Jane: You didn’t contribute to any of that, did you?
Lena: Of course not.
Jane: Good. Hold on a second, yeah?

Jane walked over to Rob on the couch and took the phone away from her mouth. “Hey,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s Lena. I’ll be right back.”

She grabbed a cigarette and made her way out on the patio, adjusting the towel to make sure that it was covering her.

Jane: Hey, sorry.
Lena: It’s fine. Tell me about the road.
Jane: It’s exhausting. Shows usually every night. We have people asking us for autographs and shit. It’s crazy. Oh, before I forget, I’m gonna have Harold write you a check for the rent. I completely forgot.
Lena: I already paid for this month so just send it when you can. Your voice sounds rough. Are you resting enough?
Jane: Probably not. We had two sets today. We have a day off tomorrow, though.
Lena: That's good. Hey, Jane, remember you said that you’d fly me out to one of your shows?

”Holy shit, I said that, didn’t I?” Jane thought to herself. What the hell was she gonna do?

Jane: Oh, yeah, I think so.
Lena: Well, I was looking at your dates, and I think you’re one next week in Chicago would work best for me. I –
Jane: Lena. I, uh, I gotta tell you something.
Lena: What?
Jane: I’ve, uh…
Lena: Come on, Jane.
Jane: Rob and I have been… experimenting.

It sounded so weird to put it in words.

Lena: Ha. Got it.

The line clicked. “Fuck,” she whispered as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, then extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the patio table. If all of her stuff wasn’t burned or thrown away, it may be in danger now. Rob and she had never discussed the rules of their time they were now spending together. It was still fresh – maybe there would be a discussion – but Jane knew she’d feel guilt if she didn’t tell Lena the truth.

She came back inside and stood in front of Rob. “Sorry about that,” she muttered as she joined him back on the couch. “If Lena didn’t hate me before, she does now.”

Jane couldn’t stay upset for too long, though. Not with Rob right in front of her. "So," her voice cracked as she pushed out her words, "got any plans tonight?" She rested her head on his chest as her fingers began trailing it lightly.

She still couldn't get the thought out of her mind that she had earlier. "It's all so strange." Being here with him. Kissing him. Hooking up with him. Wanting to be held by him. It was all one big mind-fuck to Jane, how she could go from being so oblivious to how she felt now, in this moment.

Jane had about attacked him the moment the doors had closed on the elevator. It was a sort of instantaneous bout of energy, felt by both parties. Rob slipped his arms around Jane, holding her up to him, letting her slowly work her way up his neck with her lips, before colliding with his…

Then the door swung upon again, allowing three now-uncomfortable men into the elevator as the two made their exit. Rob stifled a laugh as Jane acknowledged them as “Gentlemen,” before breaking into full laughter once he was sure the doors had closed. The two had broken off for their separate showers. Rob felt the energy of the show drain off of him, tearing itself from his skin and pooling around his feet, before being swallowed by the drainage below. In retrospect, it may have been the fastest shower Rob had ever taken.

He slipped back into the living room in his underwear, pushing the hair from his face and awaiting Jane’s arrival. Once she did, it seemed as soon as he had begun to enjoy himself, Lena had taken the opportunity to call. He waited patiently for Jane to handle the situation, before looking down to his own phone to see if he had missed any messages.

10:50, Sam: I found a studio in town willing to let me and you use the space in return for a quick interview. You down?

11:02, Rob: Sounds great. Meet you downstairs tomorrow at ten?

11:05, Sam: Sure thing.

Rob placed the phone back onto the table, in time to see Jane enter the room—slightly less enthused than before. Once she spoke, it confirmed his idea about the cause for concern: Lena. Yet another reminder for him.

Rob wanted to ask for more information, but the endless teasing of the day had diluted his brain down to a singular track for the night.

“Tomorrow, yes,” he said, referring to her earlier question. “Right now?”

He lifted her head and he had once once before, taking in the sight of her eyes, the depth of her pupils. He moved into a deep, passionate kiss, before gently lifting her off the couch. And after that? He was surprised the two of them made it into the bedroom beforehand.

…

Early the next morning, Rob’s phone buzzed by his ear, and he slipped a hand away from Jane to silence it. Looking at the time, he groaned. He only had fifteen minutes to be ready.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Jane’s ear, obscured by heir own hair. He kissed it softly. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

He climbed out of the bed, slipping into normal clothes and closing the door to the apartment shut as carefully as he could, hoping not to disturb Jane anymore.

He stood in the elevator patiently, his eyes locked on the spot that Jane and Rob had stood in just hours ago. He wanted to turn around the elevator; go back into that room and just stay with her. For once, the events of the tour felt more inhibiting than freeing.

In the lobby, Rob met up with Sam, who drove the two over to the local studio in a rental car. The freshly cleaned upholstery reeked of what felt like wasted money. Knowing Harold, he had specially given Sam permission to do this. The interview gained was just a bonus for him, most likely. A bonus for getting Rob to be on board for the band’s new sound.

The idea made him shutter.

…

At the studio, Sam and Rob were quickly amused by a tall journalist. His long, wavy hair was tied back into a bun, keeping the hair from interfering with his considerable beard. He took their hands tightly as Rob wondered how big the hipster scene had grown in Cleveland.

“I’ll just be sitting in on some of the sessions you two have,” the journalist said as they walked into the studio. He had introduced himself as Riley, and there was no doubt in Rob’s mind that Harold was behind the rules. Instead of arguing with the journalist, he paid him no mind, sliding behind the provided drum set as Sam tuned his own personal guitar.

As a warm-up, Sam played a few power chords, before noodling his way up and down the frets. Rob absentmindedly kept a bet while he watched Riley sit in the corner, scribbling away on a notepad. Next, Sam played a few of the riffs he had been talking about; simplistic, bombastic riffs, that weren’t necessarily bad, but seemed ill-fitted for the sound Rob had been hoping for. After about fifteen minutes, Sam set the guitar down, and the two bandmates discussed what he had played so far.

“So those were the Harold-approved riffs,” Sam said, low enough that hopefully Riley wouldn’t catch. “But I’ve got a few I think you’ll really like.”

Next, Sam played some more complicated rhythms; melodic notes that seemed to soar, before once again diving back into a tone that seemed more suited for a baritone guitar. The arpeggiated rhythms were enough to keep Rob from laying down a simple 4 beat for Sam to play over, and he improvised a more alternated rhythm. For one moment, the two looked to each other, before really locking into a certain sound, cranking out the same four bars over and over, Rob and Sam each getting louder than ever before. Finally, Rob rolled on a cymbal and closed the piece out.

“Fucking hell,” Sam said breathless, as he turned to give a signal to the man behind the glass. Save that piece.

“That’s a fucking sick line,” Rob said. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “We could get Austin to really lay something down under that.”

Rob looked over to Riley, then to the burred man behind the window, and then to Sam. “Want to do something fun?” He proposed. Sam nodded.

Rob got up from the drum set and held a hand out to Sam, eyes locked on the guitar. Sam obliged, and walked around to the drum set. He picked up the sticks in an awkward fashion.

“Whatever you’re going to do,” Sam said, “I won’t be able to keep up with it.”

“Don’t worry,” Rob shot back, setting a microphone up before looking to the sound tech. Thumbs up. “You will.”

He felt his way around the foreign instrument. His fingers slowly warmed up, locking their ways onto the first notes Rob wanted to play. He moves his head close to the microphone. 

“I’m not a guitarist, but I always wanted to play this one as a kid. So…here goes.”

He looked down, held his guitar pick tightly, and strummed.

Duh-nah-nah. Duh-nah-nah, nuh, Duh-nah-nah. Duh-nah-nah, nuh, Duh-nah-nah. Duh-nah-nah, nuh, Duh-nah-nah. Duh-nah-nah, nuh….

Behind him, he could hear Sam quickly catch onto what he was doing. He mechanically laid down the beat for Rob. Kick, snare, kick, snare. Repeat.

Riley and the sound tech watched as the two bandmates played the opening to Kashmir together, both on the other’s instrument. He turned around, watching Sam smile as he kept the beat, seeing Riley nod his head to the tempo in his peripherals. Walking up to the microphone, Rob put on a voice:

”Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream.
I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been.
To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen.
They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed.”

After finishing his last note, he let a chord ring out, and listened to Sam attempt to roll on the drums to finish the jam. Once they had turned the instruments off, Riley applauded, before motioning to stand up. It felt good to get some of the stress out of him, even if it meant playing a shitty version of his favorite band’s most famous songs. It was actually the first question Riley opened with for their low-key, five-minute interview:

Riley: So you two finish off an idea session with a cover of Kashmir. What was up with that?

Rob: I guess I just wanted to keep things interesting for us. We’ve had a long tour of the same songs, so if felt good to fuck around on the instruments. Wait…I can say “fuck,” right?

Riley: [laughing] It’s fine. Sam, you want to comment?

Sam: We don’t have a large discography to pull from, so the sets are usually quite similar. Rob’s not normally spontaneous, but we have our fun when we can.

Riley: Right right. I wanted to quickly ask if either of you had seen the recent MusicPlus article on your front-woman, Jane Molloy.

Rob: Yeah, I’ve read it. Jane actually showed it to me.

Sam: I google our names constantly, so I just found it earlier.

Rob: [laughs] It’s partially what I was referring to with stress.

Riley: How so?

Rob: I guess, it’s just aggravating to see that out there. You work so hard as a band, all of us. Trying to make the best songs we can, and the article that comes out about us is on the way Jane acts. I guess it may come with the territory, but it’s no less annoying.

Sam: Jane’s always done what she’d like, as we all do. There’s not need to take it out on her because she’s the singer or a girl or whatever. It’s bullshit. But I guess it sells.

Riley: It has had a lot of traffic on it, by our last check. But I’m glad to see you both in support of Jane.

Rob: We look after our own.

Riley: Some of the riffs you were working on seemed a lot different than other, Sam. Care to explain?

Sam: Well, it’s pre-production. The nature of it is that you spitball a bunch of ideas and see what sticks. I’m not concerned with keeping up in a certain sound or genre, so I write what I like, same as the rest of us.

Riley: Any chance we’ll be hearing new music from you anytime soon?

Rob: It’s way too early to say, but we’re working together. We won’t stop making music because we’re on tour. Why would we?

…

The rest of the impromptu interview went off without a hitch, leaving Sam and Rob to head back to the hotel in silence, each with a CD copy of the work they had put in.

“You think Harold suggested questions to that guy?” Rob said. He felt awkward about asking Sam about his father, but in this situation, he had no other choice.

“Probably,” he agreed. “All he cared about was new tracks and our “sound.” Whatever the fuck that is.”

Rob laughed, glad to have spent some of the morning with another bandmate. As far as he was aware, things were pretty alright with Sam. Only time would tell if Sam would remain on his side when it came to the sound of the band, or switch over to their “new” sound.

He shuttered at the thought.

Arriving back at the hotel, Sam and Rob parted ways. Rob entered the elevator, slipped into the room, and immediately brewed another pot of coffee.

He had spend his daily time promoting and talking to the others. For now, all he wanted to do was be with Jane.

Jane woke up with the same urge as always, to leave the hotel and explore the city by herself, but just as she was about to remove Rob’s appendages from her body, she froze. Her mind wandered to how he felt waking up alone each time he had gone to bed with her, waking up with nothing to hold on to or to absorb warmth from, and she realized that it had been selfish of her to do it every time.

Instead of getting up, she turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face into him, taking in his scent.

In that moment, she became aware of how softened she had become with him. A sense of vulnerability was always lingering in the corners of her mind now whenever she was in his presence. The loss of confidence was terrifying, but simultaneously, it was also thrilling. A new sensation to Jane – one where she was uncertain about the future and, for the first time, worried about it. Uncertain of what it would hold.

She had eventually drifted off to sleep once again, but this time, the tables had turned. Rob was the one leaving her in the morning. The deep sleep she was in only allowed her to groan in reply to his farewell, and she stayed in bed for another few minutes before finally rising and throwing on clothing: a large shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders and her pajama shorts.

Warm sunlight was pouring into the hotel room, bouncing off the white furniture like a mirror. It was silent and empty as well, which made Jane shiver at the realization. She felt like she hadn’t heard nothing since they’ve left Long Beach, and she didn’t enjoy it.

She whipped out her phone and shot a text out.
Jane: Come over.
Austin: Give me 5 minutes.

Jane’s nimble fingers were carefully constructing something to smoke when a knock sounded at the door, to which she scurried to and swung open, the freshly rolled joint hanging out of her mouth. “Just in time!”

“Hey,” Austin smiled as he walked in and closed the door behind him. “No Rob?”
Jane shook her head. “Not sure where he’s off to.”
“Sam’s gone, too,” Austin replied as a curious expression took over their face. “That’s weird.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I need help smoking this thing. Come on.”

Jane walked over to the sliding glass door that led out to the patio and lit the joint, sighing with relief and smoke. Her phone, which was shuffling music through a Bluetooth speaker she had brought, began to play She Rex by Sleepy Sun, and she sang along until they got situated in the chairs outside.

“I’ve gotta ask you, what did you mean at the show last night? What do you think is gonna happen?” Jane asked as she handed him the joint.
“J, don’t worry about it. You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he admitted as his voice struggled to communicate while he held in the smoke.
“I am. I really am. We’re having fun. The sex is great.” Jane winced as she said it. “Sorry.”
Austin waved a hand at her, as if to tell her what she admitted didn’t bother him. “I get it. But what next?”
She was about to reply when she paused in thought. “What’s next? Does there have to be a next?”
Austin smirked as he released the smoke from his lungs and handed it back to her. “I don’t know, J. What if you wanna hook up with someone else, huh? A cute guy or girl is at a show and you find them irresistible. What will you do?”
“I’m not a fucking animal, Austin. Besides, I don’t really have any interest in sleeping with anyone else right now. I even told Lena last night what was happening.”
Austin nodded. “I know you’re not. But, this high – what you’re feeling right now – won’t last forever. It never does. I wanna know what you’re gonna do once your initial wave of feelings wear off.”
She sighed. “What if it doesn’t?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “What if everything stays the same? Or, what if we…” Jane trailed off in uncertainty of what she was going to say next. “This is what I was worried about.”
Austin rubbed her shoulder. “I know, dude. I think maybe you should talk to him. See what exactly he wants out of all this.”
“Fuck, I hate talking,” she laughed, Austin joining her.
“You’ll be fine.”

Jane perked up as she heard the door open and kept herself from running to it. “Hey,” she greeted Rob as Austin walked up behind her.
“We thought you guys ran off. We already found a new drummer and guitarist,” Austin smirked. He nudged Jane’s shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. See you later.”

After Austin shut the door and Rob finished tinkering with the coffee maker, Jane wrapped her arms around his torso and looked up at him with her chin resting on his sternum, the highest it could reach. “I’ve gotta find somewhere to do some laundry. You should come with.”

A half an hour later, they found themselves at a Laundromat in the city. It was small and busy, people bustling around with carts full of laundry, many talking amongst themselves. After loading her clothes in one of the washers, Jane struggled to climb up and sit on one, and she found herself watching the other patrons, attempting to listen in on what they were speaking of. Her thoughts flashed to one of her favorite song’s music video until Rob finished what he was doing and crossed her path.

She grabbed an arm and pulled him in between her legs and put her hands on his shoulders. “I, uh, do you mind if I ask you something?” Jane’s mouth was already working against her, fumbling her words. “I don’t know, I think that article is still getting to me. That, and Austin. He’s like the dad I never had,” she chuckled nervously, then her voice lowered. “I’m also fucking stoned.”

”Out with it, Jane.”

“I’ve been having fun with you. A lot of fun with you. I don’t want anything to change. But, uh, I guess what I’m wondering if,” she swallowed, “if this is all you want. Or what you're expecting from me. I'm so bad at reading between the lines that I don't even think to.”

She removed her hands off of his shoulders and moved one to the back of his neck. “There’s no right or wrong answer or anything. I just need, I don’t know.” Jane sighed and shook her head. “I bet I sound stupid, yeah?” The strands of hair that had fallen in her face were removed with her fingers as she looked back up to him and smiled faintly. She knew that she could talk to him about anything, but it didn't make it any easier.

The fingers that were on the back of his neck moved up slightly into his hair as her fingernails lightly grazed along the skin, and Austin's words replayed in her head. "This high won’t last forever."

”I’ve gotta find somewhere to do some laundry. You should come with.”

Just a few short minutes after that phrase, Rob was loading the last of Jane’s clothes into a dark car. Turned out, the nearest laundromat had been two miles away, and something about the prospect of dragging her (and his) laundry that far on foot seemed pointless. Ahead of him, Jane had already climbed into the Uber he had called, and seemed to look back at him through the mirror.

Being with Jane was almost like the mountains.

Back at home, Rob would usually travel with a few friends to Mount Baldy, just off to the north of downtown. The massive sprawling mass of land had a few trees, yes, but the truth of the matter was that it had been called Mount Baldy for a very good reason. It took several hours to climb to the summit, but once you did? It was pure ecstasy. And it was a feeling that never wore off, either. Seeing the fruit of your labor, looking off to the surrounding city, to the sea in the greater distance, covered by the haze of the clouds and smog above the city…it was an experience that couldn’t grow old. Up there, everything seemed right where it belonged.

With Jane, things had felt a similar way. They were at the footsteps of a greater mountain; a pathway ahead that let somewhere that they did not know. And he had walked his path with her before, but…definitely not like this. Now, it was like they had traded their own securities for something even better. And no matter how hard he tried not to think about it—to idealize a relationship that had just begun…he couldn’t help it. Jane was somebody he had known for too long. This wasn’t a person whom he had met with the intentions of a relationship. Far from it.

And yet here they were.

He zoned out looking to the swirling clothes in front of him. The noises and people around him ceased to exist. In his mind, all he could focus on was the thought of the future. What it would hold. Where that path would lead.

His train of thought derailed as Jane pulled him closer to her—a startling but welcome interruption. From Jane he expected such physicality. She was like that. A person that conveyed emotion the same way she seemed to receive it. Instinctually and physically.

But she seemed much different than before. She tried so hard (most likely for Rob) to discuss something they had left behind.

”I’ve been having fun with you. A lot of fun with you. I don’t want anything to change”

It was unlike her to be direct with him like this, let alone now. In a laundromat, of all places. To discuss what felt less like comforting boundaries and more like terms and conditions. For once, Rob felt a part of him want to avoid this discussion. That same part of him that had avoided it within himself.

Because…how long could they have truly lasted without discussing it? The physicality of their relationship could only take them so far. Soon enough, someone was going to be hurt if the other had a different idea of what the relationship was than the other person. It was relationships 101.

So why did it feel so wrong to hear her address it like this? If anything, he should’ve been elated to hear her talk about what they were. Here she was, putting herself out there, as best she could, in the way she could, and he wanted to avoid it? He felt so terrible for the thought, but couldn’t deny it was the way he felt.

"This high won’t last forever.”

The words she said cut straight through him. It was just five simple words, but they represented a greater fear. The greatest fear. The thought he had tried to ignore for so long. The very reason he had waited so long to tell her about who he felt that night on the rooftop.

Relationships are binary. They result in two, very simple outcomes. And if he really allowed himself to think about it, telling her how he felt, her reciprocating his feelings…this relationship, whatever the fuck it was? Ran a 50/50 shot of resulting in pain for the both of them. Communication breakdown. A painful, sweltering break-up.

Establishing the rules of engagement was surely a hint to it, but acknowledging the initial high of what they were experiencing? It was a pretty big fucking reminder. No matter how hard he wanted to live in the moment, to experience things as they come, to not think about the future and live in this “now,” he couldn’t deny that initial analytic instinct within him. The thought process of each action and reaction. The thousands of unanswerable questions. Will she get tired of me? Will I get tired of her?

And he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Jane wanted an answer from him, and he wasn’t about to deny that to her. But…for all his useless thoughts and feelings, he didn’t have a thing resembling even the slightest of coherent answers.

Her fingertips sent electric tingles of energy though his head as they weaved through his hair. He tried to ignore how much he loved the feeling as she answered her.

“Honestly, J,” he started, managing a smile, “I don’t know. It’s only been a few days since…”

He let his voice fade into the endless roar of the machines surrounding them.

“I guess I’d like a sense of exclusivity, obviously,” he lightly through out there, hoping the point was as truly obvious as he thought it was. “But I really don’t have all the answers and I haven’t figured out exactly what I want. That being said…I’ve never wanted to not fuck something up so badly. I mean that.”

It truly hurt him to admit that last part. Call it society, masculinity, or simply daddy issues, but being so vulnerable enough to admit how much he had loved what had been happening, how much it have taken a load off of the thousands of other issues in his life? It felt like laying himself down at her feet.

But maybe that’s what needed to be done.

“I’ll tell you what,” he started up again, “We’ll agree to be honest with each other. No matter what that means. No bullshit.”

Rob reached around to the back of his head, grasping Jane’s fingers, intertwining them with his. “I guess that’s what I want.”

”Exclusivity.”

It was what Jane had figured Rob would want from her, but somewhere deep inside of her, she needed to hear him request it of her due to bad habits of blaming plausible deniability in situations like this. That, and a true urge to figure out what was going on in his head. Although she wasn’t normally worried about such things as someone else’s feelings, especially while being distracted by such an amazing physical connection, she knew Rob deserved to be able to vocalize what he wanted from her as well. It was fair.

Jane hadn’t been in an exclusive relationship in over three years completely by choice. It wasn’t a total independence thing, though, like most people automatically assumed by her. She was jaded.

Ryan Miller. She had met him surfing when she was nineteen years old, and she was immediately infatuated by him. He was twenty-five at the time and was cut from the same cloth as Jane: the flippant attitude towards life itself, the connection to the beach and nature, constant partying and bad decisions. What started off as something so passionate and beautiful had turned dark over a course of a year, but the changes had been so little, slowly trickling in to her daily life that it was hard for her to see and consequentially accept.

It was simple things at first, like condemning her for the same things he was doing, like partying and being reckless. Then, came bouts of jealousy over Jane hanging out with friends who were male, especially Rob. Jane, at the beginning, tried to please him by not hanging out with Rob as much, but any time that she did, she knew there would be a fight waiting for her when she got home. Soon, Ryan became more controlling, attempting to monitor where she was, who she was with, what texts or calls were coming in on her phone, until eventually, he had reached a boiling point.

”Ryan, chill the fuck out!” Jane yelled as she backed into a corner. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Ryan scoffed. “I should’ve listened to my friends, man,” he shook his head as he slowly approached her. “I should’ve known getting with a slut like you would do this to me.”
“What the hell did I do?” At this point, Jane had lowered her voice, but remained on guard. “Please, just calm down.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down, Jane. I’m sick of you telling me to calm down,” he replied as he got a few inches from her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face from him. “Get the fuck out of my face, Ryan. Please. I’m sorry, okay?”
Another scoff. “Yeah, I bet you are.” At that moment, the back of his hand struck the side of her face, and she immediately recognized the metallic taste in her mouth as blood, forming from a split lip.
“I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done,” Jane kept muttering to herself until Ryan had backed away from her, allowing her enough room to collect her things from his apartment and make her way to the beater she drove downstairs.
He followed her out to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
Jane ignored him as she threw her things in the backseat and got into the car. “Move, Ryan!” she screamed through the glass at him as he stood in front of the car.
“No, Jane. Come on. Get out of the car.”
While still in park, Jane put her foot on the pedal and made the engine roar, causing him to jump out of the way and give her room to get out onto the road.
“Fuck you! You’ll come back, you’ll always come back,” he shouted at the car.
Jane stuck a middle finger out of the window as she drove away, and luckily this time, she never went back.

Jane had always remembered that day vividly, a constant reminder of what giving someone control of another can produce. But there was also another part of that day – when she immediately drove to Rob’s house after the fight. How, after begging him not to confront Ryan, he comforted her and made her feel okay again.

He had always been there for her.

“We’ll agree to be honest with each other. No matter what that means. No bullshit.”

Jane nodded in agreement before pulling him closer to her. She had nothing more to say. Nothing else really needed to be said. If Rob wanted her all to himself, she decided right then that she would try to give that to him without worrying about how she’d feel about it later on.

With both hands on the sides of his face, her lips slowly met his in passion, and her fingers slowly grazed up his skin until they were both in his hair. A fake cough from someone two machines down startled her, as she looked over, a woman gave her a disapproving look, and Jane mumbled a “sorry” to her before looking back to Rob.

“Probably shouldn’t stick my tongue down your throat in a laundromat, yeah?” she smiled as she released him from her grip. “I’m sorry I dropped all that on you,” she apologized as she hopped down from the machine and worked her warm clothes out of the dryer across from it. “What do you want to do today?”

They had a short drive to Detroit tomorrow with an interview scheduled in the afternoon, then a 9 PM set at a large venue in the city.

Jane paused in thought as she was taking the last of her clothes out of the dryer and turned to Rob, a curious expression on her face. “Where did you and Sam go this morning?

It was funny, in a way, the two of them reconciling differences in a laundromat. He gave the disapproving woman near then a smirk as Jane let off of him, moving to pull her clothes out of the laundry. He moved soon to do the same.

“Sam wanted to show me some riffs he had made recently,” he started. “We did a short interview in return for some studio time.” He felt the warm clothes in his hands, for a moment distracted by the feeling. Then: “Harold’s been pushing everyone for a new track, apparently. Something tells me he wouldn’t want anything I had in mind.”

He wanted to continue on about the issue. Ask her what she wanted to do with the band moving forward. To follow in the footsteps of the single that had brought them so much attention or refine their earlier sound, and make something interesting out of it. He had been thinking on and off about where they could go from this direction, but other things had quickly become more pressing to him than where to take the next record.

“Let’s get these clothes back to the room,” he said as he loaded the last of the things. “Then, I’ve got an idea of something we can do.”

He slid his phone out, calling them a ride back. Within another twenty minutes, they were back in the room, putting the last of their clothes back into their proper places. Afterwards, he quickly pulled Jane towards him, holding her by her shoulders and giving her a kiss upon her forehead.

“As much as I’d like to stay in,” he said, “I think you’ll like where we’re going.” He slid his phone out of his pocket hoping to call another ride, but was confronted with a text:

12:38, Trent: Holy shit, you guys can’t catch a break.

Attached to the text was a link to a new article. Some place called Pickups and Hardware. Yet another indie music blog, no doubt.

12:39, Rob: I’ll check it out. Thanks for the heads up.

12:40, Trent: No problem. We’re running the circuit, same as you. Text me whenever.

Rob pressed a thumb on the link, pulling up the website. The headline was a wonderful first sign: ”In Bloom” looks to wither long before blossoming. Real fucking original.

“Fuck me,” Rob muttered to himself, scanning the article, before sliding the phone into Jane’s hands.

As he waited for her to read it, he could distinctly remember the first few lines:

In Bloom’s second LP seemed to bode success for the band. Within less than a month, the Long Beach Rockers have gone from unknowns to the next big thing? But how long will it last?

Their manager gave me the opportunity to sit down and watch the band during a brainstorming session. But, it was only their guitarist and drummer who showed. Sam Breckenridge and Rob Pennie through around a few ideas for only half an hour, before switching instruments and covering other bands. Were they considering an instrument switch? Or were they trying to get away from Jane’s growing public image? Neither the guitarist, nor the band’s cold, technical drummer would comment on it.

“That’s not what happened,” Rob muttered after he felt Jane had enough time to absorb the information. “And it’s not Sam. Can’t be. I mean, he’s can be a dick, but…”

Rob rolled his eyes and glared at the ceiling. “Fucking Harold,” he whispered out loud. “He probably told the reporter the whole band was going to show. All me and Sam knew was that he was going it ask us a few things. And he didn’t ask any of that bullshit about you or some instrument switch. We were just having fun. I guess I know how you feel, now.”

Rob’s voice dropped a bit lower than before. “They’re probably going to ask us about all this shit at the interview tomorrow.” Taking in a deep breath, Rob did his best to release the thought. Regardless of what that man did or said, he wouldn’t let him fuck up his free day with Jane. He moved to the door. “Fuck him, right? I’m not letting him ruin our day.” He slipped the phone back to him and called the ride.

Thirty minutes later, Jane and Rob were at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame.

Another article. Another mention of Jane’s name that had nothing to do with music. Another jab at her “image” – whatever the fuck that meant. She would, she figured, need to get used to it, because it wasn’t going away any time soon. Any publicity she received because of her position as singer would probably always coincide with her “wild” behavior.

Jane didn’t have much to say about it. A sigh, a nod, and a shrug. Although she’d have to get used to it, it still crushed her. “I hope what they say about me doesn’t bother you.”

When he said they wouldn’t be staying in, she felt a small tinge of sadness. Why? Logically, no reason. But in the realm of Jane, being upset over something and not being able to sweat her feelings away with someone was difficult for her to do. But, she agreed to his mystery plan and got ready to go.

Half an hour later, they pulled up to a large, triangular building that was glimmering in the afternoon sun. “Holy shit,” she whispered as her fingers touched the window of the car. The Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. A place she had always wanted to visit. Rob must have heard her talk about it a dozen times, and he remembered. He remembered. Jane turned her head to him and flashed a genuine smile. God, if they were the only two in the car, she’d jump on him right there, but instead, they thanked and tipped the driver.

The museum was huge – exhibit after exhibit of legends that she had always admired – and for the first hour, Jane and him explored the the entire building, yanking each other every direction when one of them saw something fascinating.

One they felt satisfied with what they saw, Jane looked up to Rob and pulled his head down so that she could whisper in his ear. “There was always something I wanted to do here.” Her lips lightly grazed his earlobe as she spoke, and before he could ask, she grabbed a hand and pulled him as she searched for something…

A utility closet. She jiggled the handle and got an adrenaline rush as the door creaked open, and the hand holding Rob’s guided him into the dark room with her. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jane jumped up into his arms just as she did in the elevator. She also talked to him in the same way. “Thank you… for… taking me here,” she whispered.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck man, chill out,” Jane whined as the the security guard’s tight grip on her arm pushed her out towards the exit. “The Beatles don’t turn you on, too?” She struggled to not die of laughter until they were pushed outside of the entrance and released.

As soon as the disgruntled employees disappeared back into the building, the laughter started. “Ah, I’m sorry,” she said through a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can scratch it off the bucket list now.”

She was so amazed at the fun they were having together that it made her sad that it took seven years to get to this point. Why did it take her so long to realize her attraction to him? Why did it take him so long? Where would they be now if they had come to the same conclusion years ago? Questions like these drove her crazy. Or, crazier.

The past seven years felt like the first portion of their relationship during which normal couples get to know each other, have their fights, learn to deal with the quirks and annoying habits, except they weren't dating. It was something they were working through together - strengthing the bond between them - and they didn't even know it.

Or, to put in Jane's simpler terms, it was like seven years of foreplay.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but not with awkwardness; a sign of the level of comfortableness they felt with each other was that they never felt the need to fill the silence with pointless rambling or small talk. Jane’s head was in Rob’s lap with the rest of her body lining the backseat of the stranger’s car. She looked up to him sleepily and smiled, reaching up a hand to his face and grazing it lightly. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered up to him.

It was a question to which she expected no answer. She didn’t even know if it was an answer. All of the reasons she shunned any sort of romanticism in her life she was beginning to forget and let go of. Part of her hated it, having such a soft spot for him. The other part was enjoying herself thoroughly.

They arrived back at the hotel room, and Jane immediately dug around in the drawer in the night stand for a joint she had rolled earlier, lighting it and blowing the smoke out of the patio door. “I wanna nap,” she called out as the smoke shot out of her mouth. “Join me.”

Once they were both laying down, Jane rested her head on Rob’s chest and her hand on his stomach. “Thanks for today, Rob,” she whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

After listening to his heart beat for a few minutes, she was lulled to sleep with her face buried in his chest and her legs wrapped in his.

Detroit wasn’t quite as pleasant as Rob had hoped it would be.

Yesterday, wrapped together with Jane, everything seemed perfectly alright. However, even the hotel Harold had booked for them didn’t quite seem up to scratch with that Cleveland or any of the other cities had offered them. And it certainly wasn’t due to cost. Rob looked along the peeling edges of the wallpaper around their bed and wondered how far they had come. How quickly he could complain about a hotel booked for them, across the country from his hometown, doing what he loved.

And sleeping with whom he loved as well.

Looking to his right, he saw the mass of blonde hair tangled in a knot. His eyes followed the hair down to it’s origin, seeing Jane’s head resting gently beside him, nuzzled into him. It was their second mid-day nap in two days.

Jane had been so very direct to Rob. It was like a switch turned on between them. Now, knowing each other so well, the next step into their relationship had been so smooth and direct. And no matter how many bad press articles were released, no matter how much Rob worried, everything seemed like it was going as well as it could be. He turned softly as to not disturb her to look at his phone. He had missed a text message:

4:21, Trent: What are you doing?

4:45, Rob: Napping. Got an interview at 7 and we go on at 9.

4:47, Trent: Want to get out? Our set’s at 7 but we’ve got shit to do until then.

4:49, Rob: Sure. You’ll be on the bus?

4:50, Trent: Always am.

Rob looked to Jane again, this time with eyes wide open. He hadn’t wanted to sleep as much as she had, and while he enjoyed her against him, he could use some time away. Maybe he could bum more weed off the guy, if anything. Rob waited until he felt Jane stir, then whispered into her ear.

“Trent wants to meet up,” he said softly. “Let me see if I could get us some more stuff.”

He kissed her gently. “I’ll be back before the interview.”

…

He arrived at the venue earlier than anyone had expected to see In Bloom, so it took some explaining to security why the drummer had shown up early enough. After a few ID checks and quick explanations, Rob found himself knocked at the Vicarious tour bus. After a moment, the door snapped open with a waft of smoke, and the unmistakable stench of pot. Man, he thought to himself. I knew they were stoner rock, but—

“What’s up?” The curly-haired man in front of Rob said. His wild hair in varying colors between blonde and brown was shoved back with sunglasses. The man scratched at his heavy stubble as he waited. Rob recognized him as their guitarist; Matt.

“Hey,” he started, “I’m Rob from In Bloom. Trent said—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said, stepping aside. Nodding, Rob entered the van again, now much more occupied than last he saw it. “He’s in the back bedroom,” Matt said, downing the last of the beer in his hand.

In the bus, clothes were strewn about in various baskets and along the floor. At the table off to one side, Rob saw the frontman noodling some notes on his guitar, most likely practicing the songs they were soon to play. His eyes were cast downward, and the two didn’t talk as Rob walked further back.

Passing the bunks, Rob slipped into the back, main bedroom—pushing the cracked door wide open. Inside, Rob saw Trent mid-laugh, one hand gripping the mouthpiece and the other holding the hookah steady as the bed shook with him. He was sat across from another man, who seemed equally enthralled in whatever they had discussed. Leaned against the back wall, their bassist had her eyes down at her phone; her black hair obscuring most of her face. Hearing the unmistakable creaking of the door, her eyes locked back upwards to Rob’s, and the two for a moment, had no idea what to say.

“Rob!” Trent said loudly, throwing a hand in the air. He patted the bed on the only free spot- a corner on the other side of the hookah, by the bassist’s feet. “Come sit!” Behind him, a stereo blasted a old favorite of Rob’s: Speaking In Tongues by Eagles of Death Metal.

He did so, planting himself smoothly on the bed, slipping off his flip flops as he did so. Now sitting, he could feel the vibrations of the bed along to the endless beating of the song.

“This is David!” Trent said over the music, pointing the mouthpiece to the other man. “He normally rides in the crew bus, but we fuckin’ love this guy so he’s with us for now. And this,” he said, pointing to the raven-haired bassist, “is Zoe. Bass extraordinaire, but not much of a talker.”

Zoe tossed Rob a polite nod, looking at him with drained eyes, before lowering back into her smartphone. Her white earbuds stood out strongly against the dark clothes and smoky haze.

“So,” Trent said, “How long do we have?”

Rob looked to his phone. “About an hour, before you go on.”

“Perfect.”

…

Over the next several minutes, each of the four people sitting atop the bed passed the hookah around until each was high out of their minds. Rob tried to focus on Trent’s explanation of which specific strain he had purchased, but between the endless music and jokes, he couldn’t hardly remember it. Before long, he was laying in the center of the bed, pressed up shoulder-to-shoulder with Trent and Zoe on either side. David’s legs were the only part of him on the bed; the rest of his sprawled out, staring at the ceiling and talking about penguins. Or, something of the sort. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t reasonable.

Next to him, Zoe muttered something to herself, before looking at Rob. “You might want to watch this,” she said. She pulled one of her earbuds out and passed it to him, before angling her phone so he could see it. It looked like one of those smaller blog interviews with anyone within arm’s reach of a popular band.

“Fuck,” Rob muttered aloud the second he recognized the guest. On the screen, Anna sat, dressed in the same dress from the hotel room. He entered in the middle of the conversation:

Host: So, wait, you were working crew for Vulture, and this guy approaches you?

Anna: No, I went for him.

Host: You started it.

Anna: It’s not like it was an affair or anything. Tour life can be shit, and when I see someone I want, I take that opportunity.

Host: So, you were more into it than he was?

Anna: No no no. It was mutual.

Host: And completely physical.

Anna: Look, if there’s one thing their frontwoman has right, it’s that I’m gonna do what I want. I wanted to hook up with him, I admit it. I don’t give a shit that it seems bad or shallow.

Host: And he was into it?

Anna: Completely. Well, at least until one night.

Host: What happened? He stopped you?

Anna: Fuck no! He might tell you otherwise, but I stopped him. I wasn’t going to be a conduit.

Host: For Jane?

Anna: Yeah, for Jane! He’d do creepy shit, like mess up my hair like hers. It was kind of pathetic, actually.

Host: Well, it seems like they might be together. Some of our readers sent in a photo from an impromptu cover the two did in New York. Another guy said he saw both of them getting kicked out of the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame.

Anna: There are worse places to do it.

Host: [laughs] Yeah, but wouldn't you say the problem seemed to work itself out?

Anna I’d just like to see them just fucking admit it already. There are other bands running the circuit right now that that actually deserve to be talked about.

Host: Like Vulture?

Anna: Vulture, Vicarious…any of them, really. Releasing a generic-ass rock single isn’t worth talking about.

…

Rob popped the headphone out and slid it back to Zoe. He turned to Trent, but he was already reading about it on the phone.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, “I mean, I’d say I’d kill for the press attention, but—“

“Trust me,” Rob said, putting his head back against the wall. “No you fucking don’t.”

After that, Rob helped the group clean up the room a bit, before using their eyedrops to clear out the last of the physical evidence and getting a promise from Trent that he’d set him up with that strain once he got more.

“You need to try that shit as an edible,” Trent said as he pulled his spare sticks out from one of the many closets along the walls. “It’ll help you through that interview today.”

“I really need to cancel that,” Rob said. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “We’re not ready to talk about this. By the time I get back, me and Jane won’t have enough time to figure it out. God…our fucking manager loves this. He wants us to be all over the news.”

As Rob made his way out of the bus, he felt a gentle hand grab at his shoulder. He pivoted around to see Zoe.

“Hey,” she said, soft. “Don’t worry too much about it. She seemed like a bitch anyways.”

Rob laughed lightly. “I don’t know. She might be right. I might be a creep.”

“You’re not.” 

Zoe turned and made her way to the stage, leaving Rob planted in place for just a few moments, before turning and making his way to the main road for a taxi. He slipped out his phone and sent Jane the link to Anna’s interview.

5:57, Rob: I’ll be back as soon as possible.

Climbing into the taxi, however, his phone rang. Harold.

“Alright,” Rob said into the microphone, not wasting a beat, “what?”

“Is is true?”

Rob sighed. “Most of it, yeah.”

“Look,” Harold came, “just put up a united front. I’ve got something for you to announce that’ll detract from the news.”

“And that is?”

Silence, for a moment.

“Harold,” Rob said, “I’m really not in the mood. Just fucking tell me.”

“I switched around your tour dates,” Harold said. “I was up last night finishing arrangements. You’ll go through Chicago, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis as scheduled. Then, you’ll do Kansas City and St. Louis. That’s the end of your American tour.”

“American?”

“For now,” Harold said. “Obviously you’ll swing back in and catch the cities we missed afterwards. Because after St. Louis…you’re going on a European Tour.”

Rob couldn’t believe it. “I’d be more excited if I wasn’t so fucking stressed out.”

“I’ll fill you in on the details later, but it’s just to help build the name. You’ll probably be playing the shittiest venues in Europe again, but trust me, this is worth it.”

“I’m at the hotel,” Rob said as the taxi driver pulled up to the lobby. He handed him a twenty and left the cab. “I’ll call you back once I figured out this Anna shit.”

He disconnected the call, and felt his head whirling as he went upstairs to the room. He found Jane quickly once he entered, but paused himself to let her speak.

Pretty much everything was going to take some explaining from this point forward. Looking back on just a few hours ago, he was right to be worried. 

Everything was changing, all at once.

Jane only woke up for a moment to say bye to Rob before falling back to sleep. It was only when she had reached a hand over to squeeze him and was met with cold sheets that she processed that he had left. A sigh and a few stretches later, Jane got up from bed and wandered around the empty hotel room.

A part of her had truly missed staying in such shitty places; there wasn’t the sense of authenticity and adventure in the posh rooms they had been sleeping in.

The stove’s clock read 5:00 PM. Jane grabbed her speaker and a beer, and after putting on The Executioner by The Black Angels, she sunk into the small tub until her chin touched the warm water. In between sips of beer, she sang along to the lyrics quietly:

”Do whatcha should, honey
Be a good girl, darlin’
‘Cause you’ll meet the executioner one day”

She began to work the shampoo through her long strands of hair, groaning in pain as her fingers attempted to work through the knots. Next, conditioner. Some of them were beginning to come loose now with enough effort.

”If it feels good, do it again.”

A lyric Jane had lived by, and one that also always made her smirk when she sang it.

She eventually forced herself out of the tub and into the front of the mirror. She stared at herself, noticing a few marks Rob had unintentionally left on her shoulders and neck, and her fingers grazed them lightly and smiled. Jane easily got carried away in the heat of the moment.

Once she located a brush, she began working in through the tangled hair, cursing at herself for letting it get this bad. A half an hour and a clump of hair later, Jane was able to run her fingers through it, and the sensation made her scalp tingle as she puffed on a joint on the couch. She looked over to the clock once again, 5:57 PM. She frowned a bit, hoping Rob would come back soon, but before she could finish her thought, her phone vibrated on her lap.

As she read on, her eyes got wider and wider at what Anna was saying. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled as she had scrolled to the bottom of the page. If she didn’t want to do the interview before, now she really didn’t want to do the interview. It would all be focused on what Anna had claimed, and as always, never on the music (unless it was regarding new music, of course.)

Before she could sulk on it for too long, the door creaked open, interrupting the silence that filled the room. Dressed in only one of his tee shirts, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hey, Creepy,” she smiled as she tried to hold back a laugh. As she looked up to him, though, she could tell that he was upset about the article.

“Hey,” she whispered a hand reached up to brush a few strands out of his face. “It’s gonna be fine, yeah? She probably just wanted more attention than she was getting from Vultures. You’re not pathetic or creepy,” she consoled him as her fingers grazed his lips. “If it makes you feel better, I’m glad you were thinking of me when you were with her.” She meant what she said, although it made her question how fucked she was in the head.

Jane grabbed the hand that hung loosely at Rob’s side and laced his fingers with hers, and after bringing it up to her mouth, her lips softly kissed each fingertip. Her eyes looked up to his as they watched her. “We don’t need to leave for another few minutes. Come on.”

-------------------

Simon: Alright everyone. Thanks for tuning into the Musicians Unplugged podcast. We are here with Jane, Rob, Austin, and Sam from In Bloom, originating in Long Beach, California. Since starting out on tour almost three weeks ago, they have seen an insane increase in popularity, and also an increase in the amount of smack being talked about them. Jane, I’m gonna start with you. Wait – did you brush your hair?

Jane: [laughs] Just for you, Simon.

Simon: Why, I’m flattered. Thank you. Okay, Jane. The first question I’m gonna ask, since no one has gotten a direct answer from you, is: Are you bisexual? Do you like both women and men?

Jane: Yes.

Scott: No hesitation from you there, huh?

Jane: No one has ever really asked in a straight-forward way. They just always talk about the rumors and shit. Wait, can I curse?

Simon: Yes, you can. This podcast loves colorful language. Now, did you see the video posted earlier? With Anna, one of the roadies for Vulture?

Jane: Unfortunately, yes, I did.

Simon: [laughs] You mind diving in a little bit as to why you didn’t like it?

Jane: Oh, god. Rob didn’t deserve what she said about him. We were all kinda fucked up when we started this tour. There was a lot of shit going on not only in our professional lives, but our personal lives, too. Rob isn’t creepy or pathetic. If anything, I think it’s kind of pathetic to do an interview on a band you have no involvement with other than fucking one of its members. The only thing I agree with is that the other bands should be receiving some recognition, too. They all work really hard.

Simon: Wow, you didn’t hold back, did you?

Jane: Actually, I could probably continue. But I’ll spare everyone.

Simon: Well, then I’ll move on. What do you have to say about the accusations Anna made about you and Rob seeing each other?

Jane’s eyes darted to Rob as he finished the question. She didn’t want to cross some line that he wasn’t ready to, or that she wasn’t ready to. But, she gave him a reassuring nod and looked back to Simon.

Jane: Hmm. Rob’s been my best friend for seven years. He, uh, he knows everything about me. The good, the bad, the ugly. [laughs] He’s never condemned me for who I am or what I do with my life or my time. He always looks out for me, wants the best for me. And him. He’s so talented, smart, really good looking. Sorry if I’m rambling, Simon.

Simon: That’s okay. Continue!

Jane: I guess the point I’m trying to make is that, when you have someone like that in your life, you know, someone that cares about you that much, and you feel the same way about them, it’d be stupid not to try to see where things can go. So, I mean, yeah, there’s a few new elements that we added to our relationship, but nothing between us has really changed. He’s still my best friend.

Simon: That was all very beautifully put, Jane. Thank you. Now, moving along, what would you say is your biggest complaint about how things have been unfolding for you and the band?

Jane: The bad publicity, man. That no one is focusing on our music when they decide to do a piece on us. It’s all about our personal lives, which isn’t why we’re on tour, you know? I would love to wake up one day and see an article talking about my singing or writing, or the crazy shit that Austin and Sam come up with for our songs, or how talented Rob is.

Simon: Sorry for asking you those questions earlier, then.

Jane: No, no, no. It’s not your fault. I guess it’s just business now. What’s gonna make people click a link? An article about how I started singing, or one of people detailing stuff about who I’ve slept with and my “bad” behavior? Of course, the latter. But, I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it.

Simon: Well, if this means anything, I think you have a phenomenal voice.

Jane: Thank you.

Simon: I think it’s only fair now that we get Rob’s side of the story now. We’re gonna take a quick break and will ask him some questions when we return.

Simon got up to get some water, and Jane immediately grabbed Rob’s hand and pulled him out of the building. “Hey,” she started as she lit a cigarette. “I hope you don’t mind what I said. I was kinda put on the spot, you know?” She exhaled the smoke above their heads before wrapping her arms around him like she always did. She couldn’t shake the desire to be touching him all the time, no matter how much she told herself to leave him alone. The thoughts made her pull away and take a drag of her cigarette. “If I ever start to drive you crazy, you'll tell me, yeah?"

“If I ever start to drive you crazy, you'll tell me, yeah?”

“Always,” Rob said, taking the cigarette from her hand, and taking a drag, before returning it. “No bullshit, remember?”

Out here, the air seemed just a bit chilly—regardless of the time of year it was. Rob’s breathing shifted slightly, from his more shallow breaths to something far more relaxed. If he was going to go face another interview about the questions Anna had raised for him, he would need to be ready for it.

The words she had said were still echoing through his head. Pathetic. Creep. Words he had heard slip off the tongues of many women when describing other men. Even to him, in relation to another man. He remembered past girlfriends talking about it lightly, remembering their former lovers with nothing but distain and contempt for the whatever reason those men had given them. The honest truth was, each time it happened, Rob would always want to point out how so very quickly you could cut down a man with words. He remembered things his father had said out of spite decades ago that hurt far worse than any of the limbs he had broken in his skating days.
And now two women had told him how false they were. Jane, and Zoe. One, the most important in his life, and the other…some enigma. Someone he had only just met, yet for some reason was thinking of her in the present moment.

He cleared his mind, and walked back inside, bracing himself for the following interview:

Simon: Welcome back to the Musicians Unplugged podcast. We’re here now with In Bloom, sitting down with Rob Pennie. Since it seems to be the elephant in the room, let’s go ahead and talk about this roadie interview, if you don’t mind.

Rob: Sure.

Simon: Well, is it true?

Rob: [laughs] Which part? I mean, the sex thing?

Simon: Anything you’d wish to discuss.

Rob: To be perfectly honest, I wish I didn’t have to. I don’t know. I mean, I get that we’re moving towards a society that’s a lot more open sexually and emotionally about a ton of different things. And overall, I’d say that’s a good thing. But when it comes to intimacy, I think there’s a need for a line to be drawn. The things I do in the bedroom are between myself and my partners. Anna made the choice to talk about parts of it, and I won’t deny that we had intimate moments, but I’d rather not talk about specifics. I will say that everything I ever did with Anna was consensual, and I’m sure she’d say the same thing.

Simon: Sounds like you’ve thought about it for a while.

Rob: I needed to. When you make mistakes, you’ve got to deal with it in your own way. I wasn’t expecting to have to talk about it publicly but I have thought about it.

Simon: She also made mention of your lead single being, hold on lemme quote this right… “a generic-ass rock single [that] isn’t worth talking about.”

Rob: Yeah, I recall that.

Simon: Thoughts?

…

Rob looked off to the side to Jane as she had done to him just earlier that interview. Was is right to bad-mouth a song that had just been released? To be hard of the three minute track that had granted them all these opportunities?

…

Rob: I think she’s entitled to her own opinion.

Simon: But what’s yours? You’ve never really spoken publicly about it before.

Rob [sighs] I mean, we’ve done better work. I think every band wants their other tracks to have more notoriety than the song they’re known for. There’s a ton of stuff off our old EP’s that don’t get as much love as the newer stuff. But you gotta play what people want to an extent.

Simon: Like Speechless? That that’s somewhere around what, five years old?

Rob: Yeah, off the second EP we put out. It’s something we all like enough to keep around.

Simon: Some of the critics worry about your sound being stylistically all over the place.

Rob: [laughs] I’m sure they are. People said it to Radiohead about Kid A. Or Thrice on Vheissu. Shit, we can throw the Beatles in there with Sargent Pepper’s.

Simon: Those are big names you’re pitting yourself up against.

Rob: Well, it’s all examples, but bands change. They put out new stuff when they want and sometimes old fans want more of the same. Sometimes the other way around.

Simon: I think that’s what a ton of people would say about your newest record, Ways and Means. And what others would say how you feel about it.

Rob: Well, if the others say it…

Simon: I just wanted to clarify the stance. It’s all what we’re hearing.

Rob: Jesus. A bit of an interrogation, isn’t it.

Simon: Well, we’ve got the time to cover something else…

…

Rob took in a deep breath. He was hoping to be able to slip in his point about the international tour at some people, but Simon was not letting up. His vapid smile stared at him from behind his mic. He had warmed them up earlier, but now he was getting what he really wanted; how the band felt behind the scenes. Whether everyone was happy swinging towards something radio-friendly.

…

Rob: Here’s the truth, Simon. When you’re making music, there are songs others like more than yourself, and songs you have to fight for on the record. With the first record, we pretty much only had enough material to fill out the track-list, but there was a ton of music behind Ways and Means. We had to cut out something like, what? Five tracks? A lot of stuff we’re hoping to put on a Deluxe record at some point. But I think it’s alright for some band members to like some stuff more than others.

Simon: So you’re saying you don’t like the single?

Rob: I’m saying it’s not my favorite track on the record, sure.

Simon: And what about these five cut tracks you were talking about? Did you think any of those were better than the single?

…

Fuck it. Did Harold want bad press for them? Did he want them on the news?

Because they were about to be on the fucking news.

…

Rob: I really don’t want to get into this.

Simon: Why is that?

Rob: What—what, are you serious?

Simon: Yeah.

Rob: Because I’m not here to talk shit about my band.

Simon: I’m not asking you to do that. I just was wondering if you felt like—

Rob: You’re not wondering anything. You’re trying to get me to talk about how much I hate the single. You’ve brought it up like three fucking times, man. Ask another question.

Simon: Alright, we’ll go to something else.

Rob: Ok.

Simon: Jane was talking about new elements in your relationship, right?

Rob: Did you really fucking ask me that?

Simon: …I don’t understand—

Rob: I go off about how intimacy isn’t respected in the culture, and you ask me about the new elements in my relationship? Holy shit, dude.

Simon: You wanted me to ask another question.

Rob: Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?

Simon: Yes—

Rob: No, no, no. Stop thinking about the podcast and the listeners. I legitimately want you to think about this. Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?

Simon: I am.

Rob: Then how the fuck can you ask me about that? You ask Jane about her sexuality, then she tells you about how bad publicity is her biggest complaint. Then I talk about the same fucking thing, and you ask me about my “new elements”?

Simon: Like I said, you wanted me to ask another question. I was talking about your music.

Rob: Then do it.

Simon: So people are saying closing with the single is just forcing people to hear your other work in order to hear what they want. So I wanted to know—

Rob: Ok. Right. Fuck this.

…

Rob took off the headphones and tossed them onto the table, before standing up and storming out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Simon talk in his same bullshit-voice: “Sorry about that. Rob seems like he’s done with the interview, so we’ll have Sam come up next. Wonder if he’ll talk about whatever he and Rob recorded away from the band…”

The rest became an indistinguishable noise as he walked down the hall to the back garden of the blog’s headquarters. As the door closed behind him, he looked up and let out a loud ”FUCK!” into the sky, before sitting down on the nearest bench. He felt his phone ring in his pocket, and picked it up.

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” Rob said, not waiting for Harold to respond. “I’ll announce the tour tonight. Oh, and if you’re planting these interviewers to ask this kind of shit, then you can go fuck yourself.”

“Rob—“ Harold came, before being cut off as Rob disconnected the call. He sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the greenery around him, hoping to find a way to unwind but not being able to. He hadn’t had a blowup like this since…

…since Rob and Jane had argued over the single in the first place, just a month before the tour.

A part of him felt good to have done it. If they were building a reputation for being wild, he certainly was solidifying it now.

Jane’s eyes were nearly bulging out of her head as Rob continued with his portion of the interview, and it took all of her strength to not jump in and try to redirect the conversation.

”Did he fucking lose his mind? Is he crazy? What the hell is he doing?”

To avoid any more negative comments from Simon, instead of running after Rob when he stormed out of the office, she sat through Sam and Austin’s portion, laughing and agreeing along as if she wasn’t fuming on the inside.

Their image had already been tainted enough, but now… The one guy in the band that Jane always counted on to be the most calm and leveled headed basically told the interviewer to fuck off. Although she was angry at how he handled it, she was mostly baffled. Yeah, she knew he wasn’t as open with talking about sex and intimacy. And yeah, maybe Simon was being a little pushy. But now, there were definitely two targets for the media now. Jane made peace with being the scapegoat, but now that Rob would be facing heat, she wasn’t sure how things would go.

After saying farewells and apologies to Simon, Jane blazed a trail out of the office into the court yard where Rob was standing. She spoke in a stern whisper which would have been yelling if she wasn’t trying to not attract attention. “Rob, what the fuck was that? Are you trying to make us look worse than we already do? I can fucking see the headline now. ‘Crazy skank front woman fucking angry asshole drummer.” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“Do you not think that I’ve wanted to punch at least half of the people talking shit about me? That I haven’t wanted to cry during an interview, or-or tell them to go fuck themselves?” She removed the fingers from her face and glanced up at Rob. “Of course I have, man. I know I try to act like that shit doesn’t bother me, that I’m fine with them talking about me like they do but,” Jane felt a lump grow in her throat and tears begin to well in her eyes.

Before she could continue, a “hey” was shouted at them from Austin across the courtyard. “Sets in an hour, we gotta go!”

She took a deep breath and dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her flannel. Was it wrong of her to blow up on Rob? She honestly wasn’t sure. In her mind, right there, she felt like he deserved it. But, if she took a step back, she realized she might have been too harsh. But Jane’s pride sweltered deep inside of her as she stood there with him, and after deciding not to say anything further, she walked back to the van by herself and took her normal spot in the back corner.
For the first time since Rob and her had opened up to each other, she didn’t want to talk it out. She had done more talking about her feelings in the past week than she had in the past year.

Her headphones blared Scarecrow by Stick To Your Guns as she closed her eyes and felt the vibrations of the van underneath her as it took them to the venue they were playing tonight.

”I can’t wait to have a fucking drink.”

The venue very much reflected the rest of the city – it was covered in graffiti and old fliers from shows in the past, but it housed a decent amount of patrons. Before stepping out of the van, Jane had put a snapback on so that it may hide her face a bit; the thought of having to talk to anyone who had heard the podcast made her nauseated with anxiety.

A new, fun perk that they were receiving was the rider. Jane had requested an eighteen pack of Yuengling and a bottle of Jameson, figuring she’d take along the leftovers with her, and she scooped up five beers and brought them to the area in the back of the building, both entrances to the alley way watched by guards in case anyone underage attempted to sneak in. She sat on the ground with her back on the wall and finished a beer in the first minute. Then another. Then two more. Swigs of Jameson were taken in between sips of the beer, and she was enjoying the heavy buzz she was feeling when a voice snapped her out of deep thought.

“Jane, right?”
Her eyes glanced up, meeting those of the vocalist of Vicarious. Andy. “Yes, sir,” she smirked. “And you’re Andy.”
“Mind if I sit?” He asked as he pointed to the spot on the ground next to her.
Jane shrugged and nodded, and after he sat, she stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he smiled as she shook her hand. “Sorry, a little sweaty. We just finished up not too long ago.”
Jane lit a cigarette before answering. “Doesn’t bother me.”
“Well, Jane, I’d love to ask you questions, but I feel like I already know everything about you,” he chuckled as he lit his own cigarette, blowing the smoke out directly ahead of him.
“Ha, yeah. Those articles don’t leave much to the imagination, do they?” her nose crinkled up as she finished the statement. “Seems like you guys haven’t been picked on as much, yeah?”
He nodded with a smile. “Eh, we’re probably not as interesting.”
Jane scoffed. “My ‘wild’ life isn’t as fun when I have to talk about it all the time. I really dig your band, by the way. I actually listened to you guys before I knew you’d be on the circuit.”
His eyes lit up a bit. “Well, same here. Plus, your single wasn’t as bad as your drummer thinks it is.”
She smiled coyly before offering a quiet “thanks.”

A stagehand popped out of the backdoor and called to Jane. “Two minutes!”

Jane nodded to the man and stood up with a grunt. “Nice meeting you, Andy.”
He bowed a bit jokingly. “You, too, Jane.”

Jane took the stage lazily, and the bright lights and loud room made her instantly realize that she may have drank too much before her set. ”Fuck it.”

“How is everyone doing tonight?”
“Woooooo!” the crowd yelled back at her.
“Jesus, okay. Well, I’m Jane. We’re In Bloom from Long Beach. Thanks for listening.”

The entire performance was a blur – partly from the repetitiveness of playing a set every night, partly from the alcohol – but she definitely let loose on stage more than usual.

At the end of the single, which was their last song, Jane dropped down to her knees at the front of the stage in front of the crowd and sang the last few lines as they shouted it back at her.

It was invigorating.

She stood up to thank the crowd in a breathy, hoarse voice before exiting the stage to catch her breath. Her hands rested on her knees as she felt the sweat drip down her face.

“That was sick,” a voice sounded. Andy, again.
“Thanks,” Jane smiled between deep breaths. Maybe it'd be good for her to make a new friend on the road; a person not so involved with the band could possibly be a nice escape.

Rob held his hands against his temples as he listened to Jane. Austin slipped outside before he could launch into an argument he’d regret, telling them to leave. His voice was almost hard to distinguish above the sound of his own raging heartbeat. He felt so close to exploding.

“I can’t fucking do it,” he muttered, more to himself than Jane. “I can’t act like that shit doesn’t bother me. And he wouldn’t fucking drop it!”

The last words croaked out of his voice like some sort of roar. The interview had pushed just the right buttons. Knew exactly what it took to set Rob off. And now he was filled with a frustration and anger that almost scared himself.

He left her leave. Or at least, from his position, he surely felt like he had let her leave. He knew how much it pained her to sit and talk things through, but it didn’t in the least surprise him that she had walked off after berating him. He didn’t want to be mad at her about the incident, but refusing to talk about their sex life seemed to warrant more than criticism, at least in his eyes.

Silently, he got up and got into the car at the passenger seat, silently grabbed the free AUX chord, and cranked Ticks and Leeches by Tool. He silently tapped his foot to the beat, to the endless repetition of rhythm on guitar. A song dominated by the drums. Something he needed to hear right now. Anything but the damn single.

And as the ending of the song came on, and the wall of noise driven by the relentless double bass, the car shook violently. No one had even so much as talked to Rob at this point, and he highly doubted they’d call him out on his volume. Almost smiling, he could feel Sam and Austin react to the final lyrics of the song:

Is this what you wanted?

Is this what you had in mind?

Is this what you wanted?

Cause this is what you’re getting.

I hope

I hope

I hope

You choke.”

…

At the show, Rob disappeared back into the Vicarious tour bus, as soon as the band had arrived. He saw Jane disappearing off into a side alleyway with much of the contents of her rider. Taking her lead, he had grabbed his own items—mainly energy drinks and cigarettes—and was soon back with Trent, Zoe, and David, who all had stayed behind after their setlist.

“I mean, holy shit!” Trent yelled over the loud, repetitive music. He put on a mocking tone, quoting Rob’s words from the podcast. “No, no, no. I legitimately want you to think about this. Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?”

He burst out laughing as he finished the sentence, falling over onto the bed; his bare chest smearing sweat from the show he had played all over the sheets. Rob sat with his back to the headboard and laughed. He put his cigarette out by dropping it into an empty can by the bed.

“Dude,” Trent continued, rolling to his back, “you fucking rock. Like, really.”

“I just got mad,” Rob laughed. Trent’s general attitude towards he subject was slowly growing contagious on him, and he felt himself relax. “Dude was being a prick.”

“A total fucking prick!” He continued. He had this way of cursing. Words like fuck and prick slipped off his tongue like art. Trent seemed to truly enjoy every facet of being on the road; and in some ways, being a rock star. He explained: “I’m telling you man, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You can keep fighting it all you want, but it’s your fucking image to be crazy. You don’t have to like it.”

“Well I don’t,” Rob said, sitting up. “I don’t want to have to put on some show every time I get interviewed. I don’t want to be some prick. I’m not.”

“I’m not saying you need to act a certain way,” Trent countered. “Just do what you want. And please, for the love of god, stop giving a shit about what they think. If the fucker interviewing you is getting to personal, call them out on that. And, by the way, anyone who thinks you overreacted to that guy is a fucking prude. He was asking for it.”

Rob shot a look to Zoe, as if to ask: Is he right?

She seemed to give a curt nod, before looking back down to her phone. Is was her turn to pick a song, and Trent seemed to notice.

“Oh boy,” he said, turning an eye to David, who had been previously silence thus far. “Get ready for some weird shit.”

“Not that I don’t like stoner rock,” Zoe said, not bothering to look back up, “but sometimes you gotta listen to something else.”

Sensing the confusion in Rob, Trent looked back to him: “She likes electric stuff.”

“Eclectic,” Zoe corrected, before an odd, almost middle-eastern beat filled the room. Rob made a sort of odd face, before making eye contact with Zoe again.

“Wait for it…” she said with a smirk.

Suddenly, the room filled with the sound of drums, electric guitar, bass, but even more….jazz instruments? Rob couldn’t tell if he was hearing a violin, a saxophone, or both. It was strange, progressive…and pretty fucking unique, as well.

“What is this? He asked by the main chorus, hooking him in completely. She turned her phone to show him the track: In The Company of Worms by Thank You Scientist.

“It’s like jazz fusion,” she said, “if jazz fusion wasn’t shit.” The waited until the main breakdown faded in, leading to a solo between two instruments Rob hadn’t heard paired so often: violin and guitar. “Guy’s playing on a fretless guitar, with a violinist, on a prog track,” she said. “Who does that?”

Rob laughed. It really was something else. And not just the music. Sitting here with people he hardly knew, feeling more comfortable and at home than if he had stuck around with with his other bandmates. They had calmed him down enough to think, enough to figure out a path forward. It was more than he could have gotten accomplished with J—

“Rob Pennie?” A voice came. A crew member had tracked him down into the bus. “You’re on in five. And Vicarious needs to move this bus in twenty. We’ve got another band that needs the spot.”

“Welp,” Trent said emphatically, “fun’s over.” He looked to David. “Go find Andy. Let him know we’ll probably bail before In Bloom’s set ends.”

“He wanted to see us?” Rob asked. Talking to the drummer and bassist was one thing, but the singer? The guy seemed quiet on stage, and more so in real life. If he had to admit it, he almost looked up to him. He seemed so genuine in his actions, like he wouldn’t blow up in a fashion like Rob had.

“Yeah,” Trent said. “He plays your stuff on the road.” Trent turned to David, catching him before he left. “Actually, we’ll move to the loading lot. We’ll go see the set, too.”

Rob thanked Trent and the others for their time, as he slipped out of the bus. David slipped into the driver’s seat to move the bus as Zoe and Trent walked Rob to the stage.

“Don’t blow up on the audience, now,” Trent mocked. “One meltdown is enough. We’ll be stage right after your set.”

“Thanks guys,” Rob said, before separating out, catching up with his waiting band.

He caught sight of Jane just before he walked out to mount the drum kit. She seemed a bit out of it. Had she already gotten drunk? Rob tried not to think on it too hard. Between the shit he put everyone through earlier this tour, to the meltdown he had had that seemed to really upset her, he really couldn’t blame her for the usage. But, Trent’s words rang in his head all the same:

”Anyone who thinks you overreacted to that guy is a fucking prude”

Rob looked at Jane as she warmed up the crowd, and couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the whole thing.

…

During the show, the last remaining shred of Rob’s anger at Simon melted away, and he beat the ever-loving shit out of his kid. He felt this sort of self-confident, fuck-you vibe within himself that he let wash over him—influencing his playing. By the time the single rolled around, he felt as if he was on trial. The audience was the jury, and the critics lining the press pit the judge. He pled his case with his snare and toms, cymbals and kick. By the time the last chorus rolled around, Rob held on the cymbals, rolling wildly as-per the band’s typical closing noise, before slamming down three, spread hits on the snare, each louder than the last. By the final his, he had swung his arm from high above his head, cracking the drum head in two with a loud popping noise. The crowd let out a roar from the event, and Rob stood up chucking the sticks into the crowd and waving, before making a mental note to let Harold know he’d need a new snare.

Off stage, Trent, Zoe, and David stood off to the side, waiting and smiling as Rob approached. Behind them, Rob could see their guitarist, Matt, picking at craft services, while Andy made conversation with Jane another few yards away. He let her have her space before thanking his new friends for their time.

“Dude,” Trent came, “have mercy on that poor snare. What it’d ever do to you?”

Rob laughed as the two pulled in for a half-handshake-half-hug, before separating. “Totally worth it man. Each show feels better than the last.”

They talked for a bit, before saying their goodbyes and soon enough, In Bloom was back in their usual van, getting ready to leave.

As Sam and Austin slipped out of the van to get the remainder of stuff left from the rider, Rob turned to Jane. Time to make amends. Somehow.

“I, uh,” he started terribly, “I’m not going to make you talk about what happened, or anything. And I’m not itching to, either. I just…I couldn’t take that guy berating me like that. Maybe it shouldn’t have gone on in the first place. I didn’t let on how much that interview bothered me until it all came out like that.”

He paused, before stating again. “Maybe that makes me the asshole drummer,” he said, honest. “I don’t know.”

Before he could continue, Sam and Austin slipped into the car, and soon enough, the drive started off, back to the room. Tomorrow, the nearly-five-hour drive would take them to Chicago, where they’d play two separate sets; and no doubt, he’d have to confront Harold about his actions at some point. He tried to shove it from his mind as Sam spoke up.

“Harold wanted to know why you didn’t announce the tour tonight.”

“What?” Rob muttered out loud, before it hit him: he had completely forgotten. “Oh…I guess that’s on me.”

“Yeah.”

The way Sam had said it, it seemed to say so much more than just an acknowledgment. More of a, ”I’m really fucking mad at you, Rob,” than a “yeah.” Rob had easily forgotten that Sam actually liked his father. Perhaps Harold had told Sam about Rob’s outburst.

Rob looked to Austin, who just shot him an empathetic look, before turning around. It seemed that, at least for now, he was in exile from the rest of the band.

Regardless of how he felt, he realized the kind of position he put them in. And it was going to take a lot of explaining to get him out of this drama.

Jane first, Rob thought to himself. Then I’ll deal with everyone else.

Jane remained quiet at Rob began an apology of sorts. It wasn’t like she had the chance to speak anyway, as Sam and Austin slipped in as soon as he had finished.

Her pride was desperately begging her to stay angry at him. To make him feel bad for what he did. To give him the cold shoulder for as long as she could stand. It was selfish for him to blow up like that under the first ounce of pressure he had received from the media; Jane had been dealing with it for much longer without lashing out.

Simultaneously, thought, in the newer part of Jane she had discovered, she wanted to comfort him. Hold him. He was human, and he got upset. It wasn’t abnormal or completely unwarranted. If anyone could relate to the way he felt during the interview, it was her.

But, then again, hearing someone in her own band say that they didn’t like the single to the public was also awful to hear. She knew of his distaste for it, but she never expected for him to talk about it in the open. It was embarrassing. A slap in the face.

However, was it really fair of Jane to have pushed it so far even though she knew he hated it? Should they have never released it? It was producing revenue for them, yes, but at what cost?

Jane hugged her knees as she sat in the backseat, attempting to put an end to the internal dialogue in her head. But she couldn’t think too long before the van stopped in front of the hotel.

As soon as she and Rob entered their room, she hopped up onto the kitchen counter and held her arms out. “Come here, asshole,” she mumbled quietly, and as soon as she could reach him, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed as she sat idly. Her voice was muffled from the position she was in. “I know that guy was being a jerk to you. I just,” she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing, “I guess I just felt like it wasn’t fair. I’ve been biting my tongue this whole time, acting like what they say doesn’t bother me, but it does.”

She lifted her head and looked at him intently. “I never felt self-conscious about my reputation before. It sucks. I don’t know if it’s just the reporters, or now that I’m seeing you…” her hoarse voice trailed off. “It’d kill me if what they said about me made you think differently about me, or-or reconsider what’s happening between us.”

It all felt so stupid coming out of her mouth, as if she was in a scene for a cheesy sitcom, and the thought made her shake her head.

“Anyway,” she smirked as she moved her hands to either side of his face and it pulled it to hers before kissing him gently. “We’re cool, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, she began to run her fingers through his hair, still holding sweat from the show, and she kissed him again. Then again. Her hands began to travel lower and lower down his body before her phone vibrated on the counter next to her.

Andy: One of our friends in the city is throwing a party. You guys should come through.

Jane showed the screen to Rob. “Do you wanna go?” she asked as she put the phone back down on the counter then wrapping her arms around him once again, this time beginning to kiss his neck slowly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

A fraction of her was still upset for what he did, but it was microscopic in comparison to the other feeling she was experiencing.

“Hey,” she whispered as she pressed her lips softly on to his ear. “The shower’s bigger here.”

---------------------

An hour later, the four band members arrive at a tall yet narrow house perched on a hill spotted with patches of grass and dimly lit by a single street lamp. Cars filled up one side of the hill like a makeshift parking lot, and the other side of the hill help small groups of people drinking and smoking.

Jane stretched as she stepped out of the car and observed the area around them. “Huh,” she mumbled. Rob was standing next to her, and contradicting every notion she had about holding hands or being ‘cute,’ she wrapped her arm around his bicep, squeezing it once before entering the house.

It was packed – every stereotype, from guys covered head to toe in tattoos to girls who never looked like they listened to anything ‘heavier’ than Paramore, lined the walls throughout the house and congregated in groups on the backyard. Music was pumping at an annoyingly loud level that caused everyone to shout at each other as they talked amongst themselves.
Jane immediately lit a joint and exhaled vertically at the ceiling before scanning the room to try to find a familiar face. Two people, a girl and a guy, had approached Rob at the same time her eyes met Andy’s across the room.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Jane yelled to Rob as she squeezed his arm one more time, and then she weaved her way to the kitchen where Andy was standing.

“Hey,” he greeted her as he took a sip of his beer.
“A bit loud in here, no?” she replied as she searched the fridge for something to drink, settling on a Budweiser.
Andy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. Come out back with me.”

Jane sat with him in the grass, her dirty bare feet crossed underneath her. Their conversation was light at first, but soon enough, it dove into music and issues they both faced as the face of their band.

“I haven’t been able to write decent lyrics in a few months,” Jane sighed. “The more pressure there is for me to produce something, the harder it is.”
“I’ve gone through that before,” Andy nodded as he passed her the joint he was smoking. “Writer’s block sucks. I think I went a year without writing a damn thing once.”
Jane rested her chin on her fist as she groaned. “I feel like that’s gonna happen to me.”
“No,” he smiled and shook his head. “You’re far too fascinating to be so uninspired. It’ll come.”
Jane scoffed but couldn’t help but smile. “You’re nice.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Jane parted ways with Andy to go find Rob and grab another beer. The party seemed to only get more crowded as the night went on. She spotted Austin making out with a girl in the corner of the living room, and when they made eye contact, they both thumbs-up to each other. “Idiot,” Jane chuckled as she continued to search for Rob.

Jane found herself in a hallway that was similar to the layout of the one in Jared’s house; the thought of that night made her shiver a bit. Muffled voices seemed to be streaming out of the room on the right, and after a knock, Jane entered to see Rob with two members of Vicarious. “Oh, sorry. I was looking for you,” she said quietly.

Especially with all of the press coverage happening, Jane felt a little more hesitant to be social, as she assumed that all the bands on the circuit had already gotten a bad first impression of her. In an awkward attempt to be friendly, Jane waved a hand at the others in the room. “I’m Jane.”

Rob felt Jane as she wrapped around him. The quickness of her forgiveness caught Rob off-guard. He had somehow expected more silence from her, or at least something less empathetic. He tried to accept the fact that she wanted to mend the bridge, even after a voice inside his head told him that this day may come back to haunt him.

“Sure,” Rob said, “let’s go.”

”The shower’s bigger here.”

Her lips on his ears shot electricity through his body, and the two retired shortly afterwards. They may had been upset emotionally, but physically, nothing had changed.

…

On the ride to the party, Rob made a conscious effort to sit near Sam. He tried reading his bandmate for something close to a reaction, but could sense nothing. It was little more than a day ago that the ridge between the band members had been mended over over a cover and some riffs. Now, things felt more at odds than they had since Rob’s meltdown a week or so ago.

Rob slid over to Sam, and jokingly placed a hand on his thigh. Rob could only hope Jane could take this as a joke.

“I could make it up to you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it as much as Jane did.”

Sam’s face froze for just a moment, before a switch seemed to snap in his head. He shoved Rob off violently, laughing as he did so.

“Fuck off!” He said, seeming to try his best not to laugh. Rob sat himself up, looking to Jane. He tried to give her his best pair of please-don’t-kill-me eyes before looking back to Sam.

“I’m just offering man,” Rob said faux-sheepishly. “If you wanted to.”

Austin was next to crack up into a roaring laugh. “Jesus Christ, are we all going to start fucking each other? Two’s enough!”

Sam and Rob shared a good laugh at Austin’s reaction, before the van returned to quiet. It was a pretty crude joke, but if was effective. The four of them hadn’t really spoken about the interview, or even Rob and Jane’s relationship, and throwing it out there like that, so suddenly, felt good. By the time they arrived at the party, the four of them were casually talking once more, seemingly back on at least alright terms.

At the party, Rob was quickly approached by Zoe and Trent. Before he could say much, Jane slipped away, and the three of them stood huddled together against the crowd of the room.

“So,” Trent said, watching Jane as she left. “…you fucked.”

Rob felt blood rush to his face, but tried his best to brush it off. “You didn’t really listen to the interview, did you?”

Trent cracked up soon after, giving Rob a slap on the shoulder. “Relax, dude,” he said. He pointed to a hallway nearby. “We’ve got a spot away from this, if you want to get away.”

Rob scanned the crowd, but Jane was already long gone. “Sure.”

…

The closed room felt so much better than the crowded living room. Typically at these sorts of events, the closed off rooms were usually reserved for people of interest, or other VIPs that tended to arrived. But, after being inside, hanging out with Vicarious, he realized that it was actually them that were the valued guests.

Outside in the living room were most likely fans; people who had been to the event, and were hoping to catch wind of some of their favorite bands. In here were the actual band members; free from the noise and volume outside and able to just relax after a set. It was still so strange to be on the other side of the fame—the topic of interviews, the person people seemed to be interested in. He had, from the very start, wanted nothing more than anonymity on the tour. But now, after experiencing the limelight for the first time, he was a bit enthralled by it. Hanging out with other band members, doing what he wanted.

On the bed, Rob, Zoe, and Trent all sat, along with roadie David and one of their march guys. On the couch beside it, there were two other guys from another touring band, and the two women each had claimed for the night. And while Rob and the Vicarious guys sat around passing the hookah, the four on the couch passed a plate, razorblades, and the first cocaine Rob had seen since his time with Mia in New York.

“I still feel bad about it,” Rob tossed out. He was gotten considerably high; the point where he had begun to confess certain things.

Trent, seemingly immune to any signs of the hemp within him, turned to the two members of the other band. “Look,” he said to Rob, then looked back to the couch. “You all heard the In Bloom interview today, right?”

“All over my newsfeed,” one of the women said, laughing as a band member pushed his head on her neck. “Wait…that’s him?”

The woman cast a finger to Rob, who nodded. “Yeah.”

“Dude, I wish a guy would stand up for me like that.” She said. “That Jane’s lucky to have you.”

Rob gave a curt smile, but said no more. Zoe must have noticed his silence, because she placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently pushed.

“You’ve got more than enough time on the road to worry about it,” she said. “Enjoy yourself.”

She gave him a quizzical look, before:

“You want to step outside a minute?”

…

On the front porch, a few of the more drunken friends and fans had milled about, hands across their stomachs, waiting to leave whatever they had drank and ate on the hillside. Zoe and Rob had found two chairs, and sat together, looking out to the dark night.

“Here,” Zoe said after a minute, showing Rob her phone. “This just showed up on my feed.”

On the small screen, Rob read the title of some Facebook clickbait article: In Bloom’s Drummer Just Snapped On A Podcast, and We’re Still Trying To Figure Out If He’s Right.

“What I can figure out is why anyone reads that shit,” Rob laughed, but Zoe’s face remained locked in a neutral gaze.

“Because they like you, man,” she said. She scrolled through her phone to another article. “Here’s one that came out on me a few months ago.”

She showed him another: Zoe Davidson is Gay?! Bassist Lives Vicarious Life of A Straight Woman On Stage.

“To their credit,” Rob started, “they at least turned the band title into a double entendre.”

Zoe smiled weakly. “I keep my hair over my face in every show. I stay out of the light in most parties, and I hadn’t even been with anyone on that tour. It’s funny, actually. Do crazy shit and you’re labeled a slut. Stay out of the limelight, now you’re a lesbian.”

“I only wanted to be anonymous,” Rob said. “During all of this. And now I just want them to stop publishing shit about us.”

“Don’t worry,” Zoe came. She angled herself towards Rob. “Some new band’ll come out soon. They’ll have the lead singer with a face tattoo, or the chick drummer. They’ll be the talk of the news, and no one will care about what happened today. We had our big moment earlier this year, then Vulture came out. Now…it’s you.”

Somehow, each time Zoe talked or explained herself, Rob felt so much better. Maybe it was the circumstances, or the way she talked, but regardless; he was glad this moment was shared.

…

After another few minutes, Rob and Zoe returned to the room, only to find the other two band members and their women had disappeared—leaving a dusty pile of blow on the couch. They reconvened with Trent and David, and each talked about different things, before the door opened again.

Jane slipped in, looking somewhat sheepish for the first time in a while. She waved a hand to the others in what already felt like resignation. Hoping to atone for past mistakes, Rob pushed himself off the couch and took Jane’s arms, pulling her to the bed to sit with him.

“You assholes going to introduce yourselves?” Rob joked to Trent and David, who both seemed to high to initially register it, before then introducing themselves. Rob pulled the hookah close to him and Jane and handed her the mouthpiece.

“He’s the one to thank for the weed,” Rob said, pointing to Trent, then looking to David. “And he—well, I don’t really know what he does. Freeload or something.”

Trent and David seemed to be warming up just fine to Jane, but once Rob looked to Zoe, he saw she seem to crawl back into her shell; the fleeting moment of openness he had with her on the porch was already gone. He could only hope Jane would like these new friends of his, because he certainly liked them.

Jane’s strained voice let out a “thank you” directed to Trent as she held the smoke in for a few seconds then finally exhaled. As she sat in Rob’s lap, an arm went over his shoulder, and her fingernails grazed his back up and down as she kept her eyes on the three in front of her.

Trent and David seemed nice – they engaged in a conversation with Jane about the tour so far and how different the crowds were based on the city they were in – but she couldn’t help but keep eyeing Zoe, who was not participating in the conversation, but on her phone with her head down. She was beautiful, Jane noticed, and seemed to be listening to what was happening, so why wasn’t she talking? Perhaps it was what Jane feared; Zoe could’ve already made up her mind.

Instead of dwelling on her new-found self-consciousness, she turned to Rob and smirked as she gently moved the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. Emotions flooded her as she looked at him in that brief moment.

Anger – obviously for what happened earlier. Jane had forced herself to swallow her pride and not mention it anymore, or treat him as if she was upset, but it was definitely sitting in the back of her mind.

Lust – There were no complaints on Jane’s end about this side of their relationship besides that she wished they started hooking up seven years ago. It was so amazing that Jane, at this point, only had to be near him to have the urge to jump on top of him, which she was feeling at that very moment.

Doubt – Maybe that wasn’t the right word for it, but it seemed as though she couldn’t switch her brain off, even after drinking and smoking all night. What would it be like when they got back home, when their lives weren’t scheduled for them? What if they grow tired of each other – would they be able to be friends again? What if she fucked up and hooked up with someone else? Would it be over?

And…

The last one, Jane couldn’t put a finger on. It was warm and light, like being turned on without actually being turned on. Love? No, it couldn’t be.

”You’re getting soft, Jane.”

It was just infatuation. All of this was new and exciting. Yes, it was probably just infatuation.
Jane noticed that the energy in the room had changed since she had walked in.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna get back out there. Find me later, yeah?” she quietly told him as she stood up slowly. “It was nice to meet you guys.” Her eyes flashed to Rob once more before exiting the room and making her way back to the kitchen for another beer. She had probably smoked too much, because the party just seemed overwhelming rather than fun.

After walking out to the back, she noticed a tall, thin ladder that stretched up to the roof of the house. “Thank God,” she mumbled under her breath. It had been quite a while (for a person like Jane) since she had been on a roof, usually her sanctuary back home, and it felt as if the universe led her to that ladder.

”Okay, Jane. You REALLY are fucking stoned.”

Once the made it to the top of the house, she sighed in relief, but it was short-lived when she noticed another figure on the other side of the roof. “Oh, I’m sorry, I – “

“It’s cool,” Andy interrupted her.
“You again,” she chuckled as she made her way over to where he was sitting and plopped down next to him.
“You like roofs too, huh?” He asked without opening his eyes. He was laying down on his back with his hands folded behind his head.
“Yeah. The longer this tour goes on, the more I don’t wanna be around people.” Jane laid back next to Andy and squinted her eyes to look at the stars above them. The night was clear and crisp, allowing the small white specks to be fairly visible for a city like Detroit.
“I get that, man,” Andy nodded, still not showing his irises. “It’s hard for me to be around my own band at this point.”
“I just met them,” Jane sighed. “They seem nice. Well, besides Zoe. What’s up with her?”
He smiled. “Ah, Zoe. We used to be together a little over a year ago. She’s strange. Awesome, but strange.”
“Strange doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that she hated me before she even met me.”
“Could be true. Once she has an opinion, she holds onto it. She doesn’t like other girls much, either. And definitely not like you do,” he smirked.
Jane punched his arm jokingly as she laughed. “Yeah. No shit. She didn’t even lift her head up after I walked in the room.”
Andy scoffed. “Sounds about right. Don’t let her get to you.”
She nodded silently as she grazed her own arm with her fingers.
“So, what’s up with you and the drummer?” He asked nonchalantly.
“Oh, Rob. Um, I guess we’re seeing each other. He pissed me off earlier, though,” she admitted somberly.
“’Cause of that interview?” Andy had finally popped open an eye. “He got angry pretty quickly.”
“Exactly,” Jane groaned. “I’ve been ripped apart online for a month already without having a public freak out. I’m reading stuff online about myself that I didn’t even know,” she laughed.
“Like the two bartenders you had a threesome with your second night on tour?”
Jane shook her head. “Nope. That one happened,” she laughed. “It was a weird night.”
Andy nodded with curiosity. “You really are a rare breed.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Is that a compliment or an insult?” She took a moment to light a cigarette before turning her attention back to him.
“A compliment. I wish more women were as unapologetic as you are,” he said as he smiled politely.
“Well, it’s not their fault. Not every girl wants to get called a ‘slut’ all the time,” she rolled her eyes as she said it. “I’ve started to become more self-conscious about it.”
“Don’t,” he said frankly. “You’re beautiful, talented, and know who you are. Don’t feel bad for anything you do. It’s you.”
Jane felt her cheeks grow red. “I appreciate that.” She checked the time on her phone and sighed. “I think I’m gonna try to round up the crew. I’m exhausted. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nearly whispered. “Good night, Jane.”

Jane crawled back down to the ground and began her search for Sam and Austin, whom she found both after they had just finished up with whatever they did with two girls they met. “Can we go?” Jane whined. “We’ve been here for hours.”
Austin smirked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Aw, Sam, our party girl has finally had enough?
Sam joined in on the teasing. “News story: The wild frontwoman of In Bloom as finally had enough sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll.”
They both erupted in laughter as Jane ducked out of Austin’s grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” she waved a hand at them. “Where’s Rob?”
Sam shook his head. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s probably still in that room with Vicarious.”
Austin nodded in agreement then looked to Jane. “Looks like he’s getting sick of you already, huh?”
“Shut up,” Jane mumbled.

That couldn’t be true, right?

As soon as Jane had entered the room—or at least, it certainly felt like it was as soon—she slipped out again, asking Rob to find her afterwards. Once the doors closed, all eyes locked onto Rob.

“So she’s cool,” David said first. His inflection was difficult to read, so Rob tried to pay it no mind.

“She certainly handles press better than I do,” Rob said, before the conversation turned to other matters.

An hour or so later, Rob’s phone buzzed—Harold.

“Sorry,” Rob said. “Manager.” He slipped into the hallway, and across to the vacant bathroom, before closing the door and answering the call.

“Before you tell me to fuck off,” Harold said, “just let me talk.”

Rob’s silence affirmed his agreement. Harold continued.

“I’ve been busy as hell setting a tour bus up for the Europe trip,” he started. “I’ve got that driver I had you guys meet earlier agree to it, but we need two more people. A merch guy and a sound guy. And since Sam and Austin agreed to let you and Jane figured it out, I figured I’d run it by you. Any ideas?”

Rob’s mind was thrown for a bit of a loop. He hadn’t expected such a conversation at the party. He knew Europe was going to be quite the trip, but needing crew? Like, their own personal crew? Perhaps he had blocked it out, but he truly had forgotten just how much revenue they were generating. It reminded him of Trent had said one of the first times they had met:

“We’re just stating on our national circuit,” Trent said, “But at the rate you guys are going, I’m surprised your manager hasn’t set you up on an international tour.”

Well he certainly was now.

“I don’t know,” Rob said, buying just a few more moments to think. His mind flashed to one of his only friends outside of the band; Aaron.

The two had gone on their own skating sessions over the course of high school, but drifted apart slowly once his friendship with Jane had grown. He and Rob had their own social groups—Aaron was drawn more towards a music-loving scene, and Rob to a music-creating one. In fact, Aaron had his own little record ship on Long Beach, and was always talking about a new turntable or pre-amp he had bought off some old bum during their quarterly phone conversations. He knew Aaron was much more content talking about music than making it, and had even set up In Bloom to have a limited vinyl pressing for Ways and Means.

“What about Aaron?” Rob said. “He could be open to it.”

“To do what?” Harold said. “He doesn’t know shit about sound.”

“He runs a shop,” Rob replied. “He can handle merch.”

“Fair,” Harold shot back. “We can’t have him on a decent payroll, but if he wants to do it for essentially free, he could. Once Europe ends we’ll probably need to keep crew on for the last leg of the American tour.”

Rob tried to contain his own shock at some of the conversations he was happening. A small voice in his head ran off: is this really happening? “Jane could probably get you someone for sound better than I could.”

“I’ll call her sometime.” Harold voice dropped about a half-octave. “So about the podcast.”

Shit.

“I uh,” Harold continued, “I’ve been thinking about it. I got a little carried away with the any-press-is-good-press mantra. And don’t get me wrong; the internet’s on your side on this one. But I’d like it better if you all worked together.”

They were unexpected words from Harold but still no less appreciated.

“Yeah,” Rob said, hoping Harold would continue. And he did.

“So, from now on I’m booking these interviews with the pretense that they don’t talk about your personal life. I mean, I can’t control what they ask you, but know if they do, it’s not coming from me.”

Rob wasn’t sure if he was mad at Harold for admitting he had egged them on from the sidelines to be angry, or relieved that he would stop manipulating them. In the end, he was a little bit of both.

“So the internet’s on my side?” Rob asked, repeating Harold’s words.

“Well,” he started, “No one hates you for it.”

“Jane does.”

“I can’t control that. I’m just saying most people respect that you tried to keep your personal life under wraps.”

So why didn’t Jane?

“Uh, thanks.” Rob said.

“I just need to you not harp on the single,” Harold said. “You all but said you didn’t like it on that podcast, and I really don’t need it repeated.”

“That I can do.”

“Good.”

The two remained silent for a moment, before: “Let’s try to work together, alright? Talk to you soon.”

“Alright,” Rob said, before hanging up the phone. Harold seemed a bit more honest, for the first time. And hearing his own manager saying he was right for going off on the podcast just confused him more about Jane. Why did he get berated for trying to defend their private life? He supposed part of it lay in the single he had criticized, but he had been so careful as to not say he didn’t like it. Only that he didn’t like it as much. Any fan watching him during the times they played it could’ve told him that.

And why did he care so much? He had become so vulnerable over the past few days. Hearing Anna call him a creep and tearfully admitting his feelings to Jane were just a few things he felt sensitive about. And sensitive was not usually what he was. Overthinking and pragmatic were.

Trying to brush it off, he pulled out his phone and texted Zoe:

11:54, Rob: I’ve got to go. Tell the guys I had a good time.

11:57, Zoe: Why didn’t you text them yourself?

11:59, Rob: I guess I wanted you to know too, I guess.

12:00, Zoe: Well, I’m glad you did.

Zoe was just another enigma that he was confused about, and he was confused enough already. He made his way outside, and found the rest of his bandmates, before all of them headed back to the room. They had come a long way from the beginning of the tour; knowing how early they would need to wake up for the trip early tomorrow. They had an acoustic set, of all things, once they arrived at Chicago (for which he would be regulated to an acoustic box and drum brushes—ugh) and a late night set. The acoustic set in particular was being recorded for Spotify Sessions, so the pressure was surely on for that. It would be best if they all just turned in.

Back at the hotel, Rob looked around to the peeled walls and couldn’t help but feel like it resembled what had happened to him in this city. How exposed he felt. His mind more returning to it’s usual, aloof self. He showered quickly to clear out his head, and took Jane by the hand once he had dried off.

“Come on,” he said softly, “let’s just go to bed.”

He crawled into bed, held Jane to him, and hoped tomorrow would be a better day.

Jane silently agreed to Rob's request and let him lead her into the small bedroom. He seemed just as tired as she was, both mentally and physically, so instead of trying anything, she let him wrap her arms around her. A deep breath and a bit of wiggling later, she found a comfortable position as the "the little spoon," and her fingers lightly grazed the arm that gripped her bare torso up and down. "Long day, yeah?" she whispered the rhetoric question, kissing his hand before placing it back where it was. "Tomorrow will be better."

Jane wasn't sure if her sentiment would be true or not. There was a weird tension she was sensing between the two of them, one she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her mind replayed her blowing up at Rob which made her squeeze her eyes shut and frowned faintly. She probably should have asked him what was wrong instead of assuming he was just being dramatic, but it was too late to really do anything about it now other than to hope it all blew over soon.

Another situation her mind was lingering on was In Bloom's relationship with Vicarious. Jane was really beginning to enjoy Andy's company in the same manner that Rob seemed to be enjoying the others, but why were they both so desperate for an escape? She made a mental note to reconnect with Austin tomorrow at some point; maybe they could grab breakfast together or something.

Jane decided to turn to face Rob instead, she she buried her face in his chest. "Good night, Rob."

--------------------

Morning came what felt like only minutes later, the warmth of the sun peaking through the bedroom window warming her back. Jane groaned when she realized she was awake enough not to return to sleep, and her messy hair popped up so that the time could be read. 7:02 AM.

"Shit."

She returned back to her position momentarily, and her eyes lingered on Rob's face. He was still in a deep sleep, completely unaware of the girl in bed staring at him. It was still all so strange to have these feelings for her best friend, someone who was right there in front of her the entire time and she had never bothered to notice. Without thinking, Jane's fingers touched his face lightly before sighing, then kissing the chest in front of her. "I'll be back soon," she whispered.

Jane got out of the bed as quietly as she could, and after grabbing an outfit to change into, she shut the door and unlocked her phone.

Jane: Breakfast?
Austin: Five minutes

Half an hour later, they were both sitting at a small diner in the heart of Detroit that was already packed at such an early hour in the morning. There was a silence to work through at the beginning of the meal, but soon enough, they began to talk about menial things about the tour and the road.

"Who was that girl you were hooking up with at the party?" Jane asked with an amused look on her face.
Austin laughed. "This girl Lacy. She kept talking about my fucking hair, man. 'I've never been with a guy with long hair. Oh my god, I love your hair.' She pulled it so hard at one point, I almost screamed."
They both erupted in laughter causing Jane to bury her face in her hands that rested on the table.
"Jesus, man. Seems like they're getting weirder and weirder," she said after the laughter subsided.
"Definitely. You miss the groupie life?" Austin asked as he took a sip of his coffee.
Jane rolled her eyes. "I don't know. No. I mean, the excitement was fun. But it's not like I'm unsatisfied now. I don't know," she shook her head.
Austin nodded. "I get it. You're a free bird. But are you actually feeling trapped, or do you just want to feel trapped?"
"Damn it, Austin," Jane sighed. "How do you do that?"
He chuckled. "What can I say? I'm observant. Like how I observed you talking to Andy a lot."
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "He's cool. That's it."
"Please don't do something stupid, J. You're in love with Rob. Don't fuck that up."
Jane immediately felt blood rush to her cheeks. "What? I don't -"
"-Cut the bullshit. You've always been. You just didn't know it." He had a smirk on his face that displayed his satisfaction.
She sighed. "I'll buy breakfast."

Jane soon arrived back at the hotel room with an hour to spare before they had to leave. She slipped into the room to find Rob still in bed, a sight that made her smile, and she crawled in slowly before laying her body of top of his.

"Hey," she whispered. "We've got an hour before we gotta go." Jane ran her fingers through his hair until he began to stir. "I need you."

She hadn't any thought to the words before she said them, and she wasn't even quite sure what she meant by them. They were true, though. The conversation she had with Austin, although confusing, only made her miss him while she was gone. Jane did know one thing - she didn't like this feeling of dependency. But it was something she help helpless fighting against. He was becoming one of her weaknesses.

Rob awoke to a cold bed once again. He reached his hand over to where Jane had been, feeling just the last remnants of the heat she radiated into the fabric, missing her.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

The nights had always been amazing with Jane. In every sense of the phrase. But the mornings?

He rolled over and groaned to himself, closing his eyes and trying to remember if Jane had told him something before she had left. It felt somewhat like a dream, but his mind distinctly remembered her soft timbre, echoing in his mind: “I’ll be back soon.”

Unsure of the meaning, he slipped clothes on and placed a beanie over his greasy hair, before slipping out onto the streets below the hotel.

Out here, he was a faceless man in the crowd. The anonymity of just being one amongst those marching onward, facing their separate lives enthralled him. He loved the feeling of being well and truly alone. Perhaps it was a problem, but knowing that in this moment, right now, there wasn’t a person relying on him, gave him the best sense of freedom.

Maybe Jane and him were similar after all.

…

After a bit, Rob passed a record store and slipped inside, glad to be surrounded by the music.

The practice was something his father called “utterly pretentious.” That in an age of instant access to music, whenever and wherever, buying a physical vinyl record was akin to idealizing a past age.

Perhaps it was. But the feeling Rob had, flipping through the different records, feeling the music in front of him as a physical, tangible item, was something irreplaceable. It wasn’t convenient, cheap, or even better, given the wrong table or pre-amp, but it certainly felt right.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him. Turning around, Rob was faced with the kind of woman he expected to own a store like this. Her round glasses obscured her eyes, and her knitted cardigan flowed effortlessly past her body. “Are you Rob from In Bloom?”

Rob smiled. It was a bit disarming to be caught outside—especially since he had just relished in his anonymity—but it was nice, at least, to be recognized in a place such as this, at the same time.

“Everyone say Jack first,” Rob said, “but yeah.”

“We just stocked your record,” she came, turning on her heel and sliding towards the “I” section of the store. Out of the hundreds of canned questions and responses Rob had expected from the woman, this was not one of them. She slipped out two copies of Ways and Means, both still wrapped and clear, and showed him from the slight distance between them. “Two sold this morning,” she said. “Mind helping out a dying industry and signing one?”

Rob laughed. “If it supports the cause. But I’m surprised my signature doesn’t hurt the sales.”

A minute later, Rob was at the counter, signing the record. The woman quickly slipped out another copy from behind the counter. “Actually,” she said, “if you could sign my personal copy.”

“Oh, you listen to us?” Rob said, obliging her request. “So what side are you on? Single or no?”

“I don’t keep up that closely,” she admitted. “I just liked what I heard. And it’s not everyday an artist slips in like this.”

Rob smiled, glad to hear at least one neutral party.

In the end, he slipped out with a classic Radiohead record he had been meaning to get, along with a Neil Young record. He returned to the room about five minutes before Jane did, and was laying back on his bed as she entered, hoping to get more sleep. Although, what she asked for from him, was surely better.

…

On the way to Chicago, Rob couldn’t help but let his mind run though the recent events.

More and more present in his mind was the actions of Jane. Surely, he had learned over the past years and at many other different points in his life, that Jane was a physical person. He had known that, and god knew he wasn’t complaining about it.

It was just that, sometimes, it felt a bit disparaging to be physical with someone so soon after a conflict. They had yet to discuss what odd feelings were going on between the two of them, but sometimes it felt as if Jane’s actions were either ignoring the issue, or just coming from a place of self-gratification. Things he wanted to express or explain to them felt pushed upon the wayside with her.

And it wasn’t a matter of liking or not—Rob had never felt so incredibly drawn to a person his entire life. But the stresses of letting things drift away from them instead of tackling them head on made Rob worry that such actions would soon come back to haunt them.

Conversations in recent times with Trent and Zoe felt the opposite. Those were people that directly spoke to him, not mincing words he may not want to hear but not holding back on the things he may need to. It was a connection he worried was one he didn’t have with Jane, or would ever.

And he supposed it stressed him out so much not that he was being drawn away from Jane, but more so that he was resorting to other people to fulfill a need in his life. Being physically and emotionally vulnerable to Jane was difficult enough; having others peer into his own life felt even worse, even if he instigated it.

And the issue of the podcast was just a physicalization of what he was feeling; general confusion.

On the way up, he gently rubbed Jane’s hand in his, more-so for his own comfort than hers. He knew better than openly, publicly making her do things typical for dating couples, but there was a simple pleasure in holding the hand of someone he cared about. In this van, with these friends, he felt no need to mince his actions or his words.

The band arrived immediately at the venue for the acoustic set—a Guitar Center retrofitted with a small stage in the back, and the equipment Rob would need to play already loaded. He thanked the small crew for setting up for him, and took the time to shake hands with the Spotify crew present for the recording; figuring the less he talked, the better. After all, what was played here would be recorded and listened to for god knows how long.

As Rob left her in bed to go get ready to hit the road, Jane sighed and rubbed her temples softly with the pads of her middle fingers. In the midst of intimacy, everything was perfect: nothing to speak of, nothing to think through, and definitely nothing to fret over. It was when it was over, especially now, that the strange tension between them was felt again like a breeze coming through the window.

She finally forced herself up after a few minutes, took a quick shower, and changed into a thin gray tee shirt and almost white jeans that hung loosely off her and were, by now, completely covered in holes and loose strings.

Jane wasn’t necessarily excited about doing an acoustic set. One, her voice had been so abused on tour so far, and she hadn’t been resting it nearly as much as she should. Singing without screaming guitars, loud drums, or a crowd in front of her would definitely make it more apparent. Two, none of their music was really tailored to be played acoustic. It look a bit of rearranging and improve to get the songs to not sound completely weird. Plus, the things that they wrote together ages ago that were acoustic didn’t really fit with where they were at now – not even where Jane wanted the band to be.

She sighed as she stared at herself momentarily before she heard the bathroom door open and Rob walk back into the room. “Hey,” Jane greeted him through the mirror with a faint smile. Could he have been over this already? Were all the things she had warned him about finally making sense to him? Perhaps she should try to open up to him a little more – not just physically.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts.

Austin: Time to head out.

She slid it back into her pocket and turned around to Rob as he got dressed. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

---------------

The car ride was mostly silent. Austin had fallen asleep pretty quickly, and Sam had his headphones in with his eyes glued to his phone. Jane attempted to get some sleep in her usual position – back to the van’s wall with her feet strewn over Rob – but it was futile. When she had set up, a hand reached for hers and caressed it, and Jane was immediately filled with warmth.

In her world, or for at least the past few years, intimacy or affection that didn’t involve sex or lust was nonexistent. Jane hadn’t held hands with anyone since she was with Ryan. She hadn’t held or kissed anyone without wanting more from them. Was that what he wanted from her?

She shimmied her body over towards him, and when in range, she kissed him slowly. “We have a few hours after this before our set. Wanna grab dinner?” Jane spoke quietly, but tried her best not to make it sound sensual. It was hard, though. Unlike the rest of the people she had slept with, her attraction to Rob was growing by the day. It was harder and harder for her to do anything with him other than be all over him.

Most guys would want nothing more than that. But then again, Rob wasn’t like most guys.

After they arrived, the band was led in by a crew to the back stage, where peopled dressed in black scurried around as they adjusted the lighting and other fixtures in the room. Jane stopped of the members to ask where she could make a cup of tea.

“There’s a break room down that hallway to the left,” the short man pointed. “In there.”
“Thanks,” she smiled and turned to Rob. “I’ll be right back.”

Jane pulled the tea packet out of her purse and filled a Styrofoam cup with hot water before she heard her phone ringing in her purse.

Jane: Hey, Harold.
Harold: Hi, Jane. How’re you holding up?
Jane: I’m good. My throat’s seen better days though.
Harold: Yeah, I’m sorry we couldn’t get any more breaks than we did.
Jane: It’s fine. Oh, can you please send Lena a check for my portion of the rent? I keep forgetting to ask you.
Harold: Already took care of it. I just called to apologize for all the negative attention from the press. I don’t know if Rob talked to you about our conversation -
Jane: – No, he didn’t.
Harold: Oh, well, I just wanted to let you know that none of it will be coming from me anymore. Thanks for being a trooper, though. The internet seems to be eating you up.
Jane: Thanks, man. Hey, can I call you later? We’re gonna go on soon.
Harold: Yeah, that’s fine.
Jane: Thanks, bye.

Why wouldn’t Rob have told her that Harold had apologized, or at least admitted to being the one egging on the media? She then realized that, after she got angry with him, he probably didn’t want to talk about the interviews anymore.

”Way to go, Jane. No wonder things are awkward. He doesn’t think he can talk to you.”

Before entering the back room, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and finished her tea. Jane was going to approach Rob as soon as she walked in, but she was immediately pulled by her arm to the corner by a woman with make up in her hand.

“This should only take two minutes. You’re on in five.”
“Oh, uh, no thank you,” Jane squinted as she backed away from the woman.
“Please,” she said. “Those lights are harsh.”
“I really don’t give a shit.”

The woman rolled her eyes and stormed away from Jane, making her giggle a bit, before sitting on her seat. She would have Austin and Sam on either side of her and Rob behind her. She wiggled in her seat to get comfortable and worked at the mic stand so that it came down a few inches shorter.

After the sound check, all four of them began to work through a short list of songs that they decided would be best for such an occasion.

First was an acoustic version of Speechless, which they dubbed the only older song that would work for this set.

Second, Jane played a song she had wrote when she had dumped Ryan: I Feel Cool. She had to do some persuading for the guys to agree on letting her play it, but in reality, they didn’t have much to choose from. She enjoyed singing this song more than half of the songs they regularly played.

Next, they decided on an acoustic version of Celebrity Skin by Hole. Jane was thankful for this, as it wasn’t much of a strain on her voice to sing like the others. Plus, it’d easily gain some traction once uploaded. She absolutely loved the band and tried her best to do it justice.

Lastly, of course, the single. Some minor tweaks were made to the song to make it suitable to be played acoustically, but overall, much didn’t change. Knowing that Rob still hated it just as much as when they left on tour kind of made the song jaded for Jane. Now when she performed it, she just wanted to get it over with.

The crew thanked them as they worked to pack up everything they had set up for them, and the band signed some CDs and equipment before finally being set free from obligation, only if for a few hours.

She wanted so badly to ask Rob what was going on with him, but part of her was scared to hear the answer. He promised he'd be honest with her; maybe he would tell her.

As they all crawled back into the van, Jane looked over to him and nudged him. "So, you wanna take me out tonight or what?" She fought the urges to just spend their free time in the hotel room together. If he wanted more from her, she'd have to give him the opportunity to tell her so.

Playing the acoustic set was relaxing but certainly boring. Rob spent the majority of the time spinning a drum brush endlessly across the snare head, using the other to lightly tap on the cymbals every so often. The only excitement throughout the experience was an interesting roll of the snare towards the beginning of Speechless, which he did with actual sticks, before switching over to the unfortunate metal delegated to drummers in the situations.

Afterward the set and the CD signing, the drum tech helped Rob with tear down, and asked him: “Why did you seem so bored?”

“It’s audio, isn’t it?” Rob said. “I play in time.”

“Yeah, I was just wondering.”

The way the drum tech talked seemed as if he was scared to ask about it. Maybe he had heard the podcast. Rob shuddered at the thought.

“You know Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record? How they recorded that?”

“Of course,” the drum tech said. “That was one of my first CD’s.”

“Watch Dave Grohl on drums sometime, in the video” Rob joked. “See if he looked any more excited than I did.”

The tech laughed, before moving along his way. For a moment, Rob regretted the candid conversation he had just had with a stranger. More and more he was delegating time to people he hardly knew, and one of these days he worried it would come back to bite him. He tried not to worry about it too much as he climbed back into the van. Waiting for the others, he felt the shitty upholstery that lined the ceiling and floor, knowing that someday very soon, they’d be finished with this van forever. It almost seemed like a loss of innocence.

Jane climbed into the van soon after the thought cross his head, nudging him and asking once again to hang out with him.

Had he been so distant? Jane didn’t seem to be the person to mince words, and less so around Rob. Sure, she had hidden the request under a joke, but in a way, he felt bad about what had happened.

Rob realized that, at the very least over the past few days, he had been having his typical discussions with others instead of Jane. And maybe it was because of the undiscussed podcast incident between them, but really wasn’t much of an excuse. He would need to talk to her about this, and she clearly wanted to. Or at least, some part of her seemed to.

“Let’s unpack first,” Rob said, lacing the words slightly with signature low sarcasm. And, once they had arrived at the hotel (a much nicer one than before, he needed to add) he took Jane out as requested.

The two slipped into a place Rob had always wanted to check out: the Hard Rock Cafe. The two stood in line for a moment, before a man in black approached them.

“Jane and Rob?” the man asked. Hesitating, Rob nodded.

“I thought so. We’re sponsors for the venue you’re playing at tonight. Come with me.”

Rob laughed as he followed the man, Jane in tow. “Looks like we’re V.I.P.’s”

And so they were.

They were given the prime seating in the house—a table overlooking the rest of the cafe, separate from the other tables and far enough away to avoid any unwanted fan interaction. In fact, at the base of the stairs leading to the seat, Rob eyed another man in all black, standing post. And while he didn’t know, he had his suspicion it was in an effort to prevent fans.

“Jesus,” Rob said between drinks. “I wish we had gone to some shitty dive instead.”

Sometime after saying it, he figured it was time to, at the very least, acknowledge the space between them. So he started:

“So we should probably talk about that interview, huh?” he tossed out. He took a bite of his food before continuing: “I guess I, uh, was pretty frustrated you got mad at me, to be honest. He kept asking me about us and the single, and I tried not to talk about both. I figured, I dunno…I guess I expected you to mention that, at some point.”

It felt so odd coming out of his mouth. It seemed the more and more this relationship grew, the less he liked to talk about things. To admit his feelings with words. The fear of messing things up was always in the back of his mind, maybe even causing him to.

“And I get why you were mad. Or, at the least, I think I do. How could I blow up when you hadn’t. It’s just—just something I’m not good at, you know? Like…”

Rob thought for a moment.

“Like I’m good at drums, and being pretty pragmatic about shit most of the time. But, who I let know how I feel? That’s just different. People thinking they have some right to know what I think. That pisses me off. Because it just feels so vulnerable. Like…they have the upper hand. Or something. I hate feeling that weak.”

And admitting things like this to you makes me feel weak, he wanted to add.

“So, I guess I’m sorry I blew up, but, I don’t feel bad for denying him that information. He was an asshole about it. So…I guess those are my thoughts.”

Rob looked down and picked at his food. Since when was he bad at talking? It was so odd to him to be that bad at it.

Jane, in some ways, was his own form of kyrptonite. Every honest moment he admitted to her felt like more ammo, and that one day, she was going to turn it right back at him.

And he could trace it back, in fact, to a woman whose name he didn’t remember.

…

It was freshman year actually, of all things. And Rob was different then. Sure, he made out with whatever girl came his way, but there was a different sense of vulnerability to him.

He remember what it was like to fall in love with someone. And that person, for him, was Hayden.

Sure, it was puppy love at best, but Hayden was something truly special to him. Every facet of his he found beautiful. Each action she took, each breath from her, it was all so incredibly vivid. Like living for the first time. Like coming out of a long trance, only to realize he had been asleep the whole time.

He was so, so naive.

They had gotten together just a month before prom, and she had been a junior; just old enough to go. So, Rob begged his parents for money. He cut yards and worked his ass off to pay for both his ticket and hers, as well as for the limousine she so desperately wanted. No matter how ridiculous her request, he would always fulfill it, always. He told her painful secrets about himself. He admitted things to her no one else knew. From his parents to some of the worst experiences of his short life, he gave to her. Only, when he realized he knew too little about her, it was too late.

Long story short, she broke things off with him the day after prom. She had used him for his money, and given herself a night she wouldn’t forget. And once she had used him, she had thrown him away.

And not only that; she was cruel, as well.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so fucking pathetic.” she spat into his face during the breakup. “Did you really think someone wanted you?”

Something about the moment broke him. Like every idea of what it was like to love was shattered beneath him—left crushed upon the floor from the wake of Hayden above him. And while her words were shallow and meaningless to her, they struck a chord with him that hadn’t been touched ever before.

He forgot about her months later, and couldn’t even recall her name after he had graduated, but the memory of what she did to him lived in the recesses of his mind. Like a tortured, immature voice shouting in his head: you stay the hell away from love. Don’t you ever, ever expose yourself again.

…

It was the same thought Rob had from time to time, and especially now, in front of Jane--the person he was closest to, across the world entire. Because beneath it all, the enigmatic persona he liked to live out, beneath his anger and his drive, he was as insecure as the rest of them.

And that fucking blew.

What was her name? he thought to himself.