From listening to the guys in The Drift, I’d put bits and pieces together about him. They had all come from a poor suburb of D.C. A single mother had raised him and his three older sisters. Donovan was the one who had pushed them to get the band together, to become successful. Once they were signed and left D.C., Donovan turned into a total fuck-up.
I knew I was missing something about his past that had triggered that reaction, but I hadn’t figured out what it was. Until I did, I couldn’t fucking hurt him.
“Get out of the way,” Donovan said, bumping into my shoulder on his way to the backstage dressing room.
We were playing a show somewhere in backwoods West Virginia tonight, and I didn’t have the energy to put up with his bullshit.
“Fuck off, Donovan.”
He flipped me off. “I’ll save the fucking for your girlfriend’s pretty ass.”
I lost it. I was too pissed off about everything else, and we were living in close quarters, too close for me to handle this shit right now. I launched myself at Donovan. Grabbing him by the neck, I twisted him around and then slammed him down onto the floor.
“Don’t fucking talk about Ari, you piece of shit,” I growled.
“Get off of me, man!”
Miller and McAvoy came running. They hauled me off of Donovan while Vin laughed hysterically, and the guys from Donovan’s band tried not to laugh.
“You’re going to be so fucking over!” he said as he stood back up.
“Save your fucking breath. You might think your ass is hot shit, but it’s still just shit.”
Donovan shrugged and dusted off his pants. “I’m the only one over here doing anything of value anyway. I don’t have to listen to this shit.”
He turned around and walked into the dressing room. The door slammed in our faces, and I glared at it.
Prick!
“Do you have to pick a fight with him all the time?” Miller asked.
“He fucking ran into me!”
Ridley and Trevor from The Drift wandered over and nodded at me.
“He deserved it,” Ridley said.
We fist-bumped.
“It’s nice to see someone who won’t take his shit,” Trevor said.
“What the fuck? How do you guys put up with him? Was he always this way?”
Trevor and Ridley shared a look.
Ridley was the leaner of the two, but he was tall and straight as a board. He even towered over me. Trevor was a stockier build, but he was a chick favorite. It had something to do with the gauges in his ears, his fauxhawk, and the intense tattoos covering both arms, his chest, and back. He was even more inked up than McAvoy.
“We don’t really talk about it,” Trevor said.
I was intrigued. “So?”
Ridley shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, but Donovan goes berserk over it. So, don’t bring it up.”
“All right,” I promised halfheartedly.
“He freaks over this girl he dated at home,” Trevor said. “They dated forever, but one day, when we went back out on tour, they split.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. They had a catastrophic breakup, one for the ages.”
“All this bullshit over a girl?” McAvoy asked in disbelief.
I’d have said the same thing a couple of months ago. McAvoy, having just broken up with his girlfriend over touring, couldn’t understand what they were saying. If Ari had broken up with me because of this tour, I’d never be the same. It didn’t make me feel sympathetic toward Donovan’s douche-bag behavior, but it did help me understand him a bit better.
“You guys don’t know Courtney,” Ridley said in response. “It was a fucking disaster.”
As we got ready for the show, I considered what the guys had told me. I wasn’t sure I liked having anything in common with Donovan fucking Jenkins. He was a tool. But I knew I’d be a goddamn mess without Ari.
“Bro, who knew there were so many hot chicks in West Virginia?” Vin asked, scanning the crowd from our viewpoint backstage.
I shrugged. I’d gotten used to singing Ari’s songs to a sea of girls who could never measure up to her. The crowd would go crazy for “Life Raft” since it was the only song they really knew of our music, but “White Hot” seemed to be the next best thing.
I wasn’t surprised. Everyone liked to sing about sex. I just wished I were getting some.
In fact, it was hard to fucking believe that I was the only fucking person on our bus not getting any—not that I didn’t have offers every night. Some of the girls who had thrown themselves at me were drop-dead gorgeous. I’d have given up a dozen chicks from home to bang one of these groupies. But I’d never give up Ari.
So, my dick stayed in my pants, except when I found time to masturbate. And on a tour bus with eight other dudes, that was pretty slim.
Our show went off without a hitch. It was nice to see more and more people knowing the words to our songs. Maybe what Hollis had told us was actually working. Once we had a real studio album, we’d be an overnight success. But until it happened, I wasn’t ready to believe him. I wanted it. I wanted it pretty fucking bad.
I wanted to be able to make something of myself, to prove that I was good enough and talented enough for someone like Ari, who was so smart, beautiful, and wealthy. It didn’t matter that I knew she didn’t care about that shit. I did. I cared.
“Killed it out there tonight,” Ridley said as he passed us backstage after the show.
“Thanks, man.”
“We have a night here in a real fucking hotel before we have to leave again tomorrow. You want to go out and party with us?”
I knew how hard The Drift partied, and for once, the thought of a soft bed beckoned to me more than some booze and watching my friends get some ass.
“I’m gonna pass.”
We fist-bumped.
“Just going to crash tonight.”
When I got back into the hotel room, I bolted the lock just in case and then called up Ari. She had told me that my dad had tried to reach out to her again sometime last week, but there had been no contact since then.
I always called her every night to hear her voice and make sure she was okay. But tonight, all I could think about was her wet pussy and the feel of it sliding around my dick.
“Hey, Princess,” I murmured into the phone.
“Grant, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“How was the show?”
“Good as always. Singing about sex with you to people all over the country makes me want to come home and fuck you.”