“You can’t do this,” says Ruben.
“It’s already been done. We’ve hired Chase Protective Services, they’ve come highly recommended. They’ll keep you safe.”
“Keep us prisoner, more like,” says Angel under his breath.
Erin ignores him. “Another thing. You can’t have visitors anymore. We can’t trust them.”
“You can’t be serious,” Angel says.
“Hey, don’t use that tone at me. We did this because you snuck out. We trusted you and you showed us that was a mistake.”
A hard look settles in Angel’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s been a long day. Just try and behave yourselves from now on, okay? I’ll let you guys get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
She gets up off the bed, and leaves. As soon as the door clicks shut, Angel gets to his feet and starts pacing.
“This is bullshit.”
“She does have a point,” says Ruben.
Angel whips around to face him. “What?”
“You were high off your face in an unknown city with no protection,” he says. “Anything could’ve happened.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“What does that mean?” Ruben shoots back.
“I’m just saying you have your ways of letting off steam.” Angel glances at me. “And I have mine.”
“Whoa,” says Jon. “Take that back.”
I cross my arms. Is that all I am to Ruben? A way to let off steam, to make it through this tour? No, Angel is just being mean.
“Let’s not fight,” says Jon. “Let’s just…”
“Be good boys,” says Angel, now turning on Jon. “So your dad can sit in his office and make more than each of us combined.”
“That’s not…”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that you’re the one who wants us to be the best behaved? You’re just thinking about your inheritance.”
“Fuck you, Angel.”
“Ooh, so he does know how to swear, how spicy. I…”
An idea crosses my mind, and before I can really think it through, I get up and go over to the mini-fridge, then swing it open. I retrieve every single mini bottle, and then dump them on the bed, silencing everyone.
“That’s it,” I say, as I pick up a mini bottle of Fireball. “I’m calling a truce. We need a night off.”
The others are all watching me now.
“There’s no way you can drink that without choking,” says Angel.
I close my eyes for a second, and let it pass. If I snap back, this will just go on and on.
“Maybe we can’t leave the hotel,” I say, as I twist the bottle open. “But we can still have fun here. Plus, Chorus is paying.”
“I’m in,” says Angel. “If there was any doubt.”
“You sure about this?” asks Jon.
To answer him, I lift the open bottle and take a shot.
Oh my god. This was a mistake.
It burns.
I cough and splutter, and the others all laugh at me while I thump my chest to get the burning to stop.
“Here,” says Ruben, grabbing a can of Diet Coke from the mini-fridge and pouring it into two glasses. Then he takes the bottle of Fireball from me and pours what remains into the cup, before giving it back.
I take a sip. I can still taste the whiskey, but it’s nowhere near as overwhelming as it was before. It’s actually nice now.
“Better?” he asks, as he makes his own.
“Much.”
“Admirable attempt at taking charge,” he says. “I was intimidated until the shot.”
“You were not.”
“No, not really, but you are cute when you try to be bossy.”
I grin, already a little woozy from the shot.
“And I’m in,” says Jon. “I can’t handle this sober.”
“Amen,” says Angel.
“Who’d have thought,” says Ruben, as he starts massaging the top of my head. “All we had to do was hook up to get them to get along.”
“Maybe we should’ve done it sooner.”
“You,” says Angel, pointing to me before taking a vodka shot. He drinks it like water. “Stop being adorable and start playing music.”
“On it.”
I load my Spotify. I’ve been listening to a compilation album of B-sides and rarities by one of my favorite bands, which isn’t really the best hype music. What I want is a song we can drink to that lets us forget everything. I end up picking a hyperpop song I know Angel loves. I hit play.
“Nice choice,” says Angel, who starts bopping along. “Seems like you have some good taste.”
“Hah.”
Ruben sits down beside me.
“You failed, by the way,” he says, keeping his voice low.
“At what?”
“You’re still being adorable.”
I pretend to dry heave, because I’m pretty sure I legally have to whenever someone says something that cheesy, even though it makes me feel all warm inside.
Still, it’s nice.
* * *
We’re all wasted.
Turns out, Fireball is strong.
Ruben and I are sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, our legs stretched out in front of us, our hands entangled. Angel is in the bathroom, throwing up. I’m so drunk I’m only barely conscious of the sound over the music and the ringing in my ears. Jon is beside Ruben, his eyes closed, the back of his head resting on the bed.
The room is constantly lurching, and the edges of my vision are fuzzy.
“Are you o … kay?” asks Ruben, then he laughs. “I’m so … drunk.”
I smile. Wherever Ruben gets drunk, he always tells people.
“I’m okay. Just drunk.”
“God, same. Like, so drunk.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it.
The song changes, becomes slower, a little sleazier. The lights of the room are off, and everything is blue and black, all swirly. Oh! I know this song. It’s really sexy. Songs can be sexy. Saturday songs can be cute, but I like songs that are hot sometimes. Songs that are about sex or whatever. Maybe I could write a song about sex. That might be awkward to hand in to Geoff, though. Like, here you go, here are my thoughts on how it feels to hook up with a guy, hope you like it.
Speaking of, Ruben is beside me.
“We should go back to my room,” I say, bopping him on the nose. “I want to sleep.”
We’ve never actually slept in the same bed before, and holy shit, I can’t believe drunk me just invited him to sleep with me.
“I don’t want to sleep, but your room sounds good.”