“Maybe I could have another verse between the drum solo and the last guitar riff,” I suggested, figuring I had as much a right to be heard as the others.
Mitch snorted. “I think there’s more than enough vocals in the song as it is,” he said and I wanted to punch the smirk off his face. I also noticed the look he exchanged with Garrett.
I got the feeling I had missed out on a lot of meetings lately.
“What’s the problem with putting another verse in there at the end? I think it would be cool to end the song on the vocals rather than a fade out on the guitar. It would be more dramatic and shit,” I said.
“Yeah, cause we need more of your dramatic shit, Cole,” Jordan sneered.
“What’s that supposed to mean, man?” I asked, trying to keep my temper in check. This was not the place to put my fist in Jordan’s smug face. Maysie was already talking to her boyfriend under her breath. Probably trying to get him to settle down. I didn’t need the intervention.
“Nothing. Forget it,” Jordan backed off, though I knew he had a lot more he wanted to say.
I looked around at the rest of my band and none of them had the balls to look me in the eyes. These guys were supposed to be my friends. So why did it feel like I was the ugly redheaded stepchild in the group?
Jose was pointedly looking at the menu. He had stirred up this hornet’s nest and now he was backing up and letting the destruction go down.
“So let me get this straight, it’s cool for Jordan to get an overindulged drum solo. Garrett can riff away even if it sounds like shit. And Mitch can have all the input that he wants, but when I make a suggestion, there’s a fucking problem?” I slammed my fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle.
“I think you get more than enough glory for the rest of us, Cole. So don’t play poor, pitiful bitch,” Jordan’s voice rose to meet mine.
“So that’s the problem. The fact that some stupid chick played twenty questions about Cole. And I had a few pictures taken that didn’t include you guys. So that’s a reason for you to play poor, pitiful me and get your panties in a bunch. Are you not getting enough attention, Jordan? I thought you were done with the strange now that you’re a one-woman man. But if you need me to toss some your way, I’m happy to do it,” I laughed hatefully.
Maysie looked like she was just as ready to punch me as her fiancé. But I just didn’t give a fuck. I was sick and tired of feeling like the bad guy because I was doing my job. I was the lead singer. I was supposed to be front and center. So why was it a problem all of a sudden?
“You need to be taken down a peg or two,” Jordan growled and I laughed again.
“I dare you to try,” I taunted him.
“Enough you two. This is ridiculous!” Garrett barked, leveling both of us with a shut-the-hell-up-before-I-make-you-choke-on-your-teeth look.
“He started it,” I said, sounding like a two year old. But I didn’t care, because it was true.
“You’re both asses, so shut the fuck up and eat your goddamned dinner,” Mitch piped up.
“Mitch is right. This isn’t the place. If you guys need to talk your shit out, do it on the bus without an audience,” Jose reprimanded and Jordan finally settled backed down in his seat.
Maysie had been quiet and I knew I had overstepped by making the comment I had about Jordan. Even though she annoyed the shit out of me, she was still a decent chick and didn’t deserve that.
“Sorry, Mays,” I said under my breath and only for her ears. She nodded and gave me a tight smile, though I knew, despite my apology, it would be held against me for a while.
There were no attempts at further conversation. We all sat like the uncomfortable fuckers that we were, eating our dinner while my “friends” tried not to look at me.
When we finished, Maysie and Jordan went to the convenience store next door to load up on supplies, Mitch went to have a cigarette and I was ready to get back on the bus and head to my bunk.