“I’m fine,” I said, coughing into my elbow. “Thank you, though.”
“You just gotta get used to the road,” she said, leaning down to grab the bag of dirty clothes where we always put it by the door. “You’ll be a pro by the next one.”
I scoffed. “At least I’ll get a few years to recover from the one I’m on.”
She flung the bag over her shoulder. “You wish.”
“Ha. He’s done after Brisbane,” I said, wiping my nose.
She looked confused. “He gets a three-month break after this one and then he’s back on the road. He didn’t tell you?”
I blinked at her. “No…”
“They’ve been sending around the paperwork to the crew to extend their contracts. I just got mine yesterday. Maybe he didn’t know yet.”
My stomach dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure. Looks like he’s pretty hot in Tokyo. I hear they’re sending him there and then Brazil, Chile, Panama, Argentina. It’s good. Means he’s big.”
I completely deflated. Another tour? Three months off and then more of this? “Oh my God…” I breathed.
Zane patted her leg. “Let’s go, Tuck. Walk time.”
Tucker jumped off the bed and let Zane leash him. “I’ma bring up some DayQuil. Text me if you want anything else.”
I let them out and put my back to the door after it shut.
The disappointment crashed into me like a whole new wave of exhaustion and my eyelid lurched into spasms.
I didn’t know what I’d expected. I mean, they’d have him doing something when this tour was over. But I’d just thought it would be writing and recording his next album, home, with me, in a house somewhere. It had never even occurred to me that they’d have him do this all over again, right after the last one.
So was this what it was going to look like? On tour, off tour, and then back again? Forever?
The water shut off in the shower.
I took another second to compose myself and went back into the steamy bathroom.
“Everything all right?” he asked, looking at me as he tied a towel around his waist.
“Did you know they’re scheduling another tour for you after this one?” I asked.
He froze. “No. Where’d you hear that?”
“Zane said they’re renewing the contracts for your crew. That you’re getting three months off and then you’re going back.”
I saw the tic in his jaw. “What time is it?”
“Too early to call Ernie,” I said, already knowing what he was thinking.
Jason picked up his phone from the sink, dialed, and hit Send anyway.
He stalked out into the bedroom and I followed him. “Jason, it’s like four a.m. there.”
He turned and put the call on speaker and held it between us.
Ernie picked up on the second ring. “Good morning, kids. Calling me from Graceland?” he said groggily.
“Are they putting me on another tour?” Jason asked.
There was a pregnant pause.
“Eh, fuck,” Ernie mumbled. “Give me a second.”
Ernie muttered something muffled to his wife. A few moments passed and then a door shut in the background. “Who told you?”
“Is it true?” Jason asked.
“Look at it this way, you have job security.”
I shut my eyes for a long second and when I opened them, Jason’s face looked like an apology.
“Technically it’s not a new one,” Ernie said. “It’s the same tour, extended. It’s a good thing. Means you’re in demand. I was fighting for another soundtrack for you to keep you in LA, Patty Jenkins fell through, though, and the deal got fucked. You’re not writing and you’re not recording. They’re not gonna let you sit pretty and do nothing, my friend. And you’re hot in Tokyo right now.”
Jason and I looked at each other, having a silent exchange. He dragged a hand down his beard. “Ernie, I can’t do another one of these. This schedule’s fucking ridiculous. I haven’t been able to rest my voice in months, we’re exhausted.”
I stared at him. He wasn’t exhausted at all—this was 100 percent for me. And it was the first time he’d really admitted that he wasn’t happy with what was going on.
“Yup, well, it’s bullshit,” Ernie said. “But unfortunately it’s what you signed up for. If you give them an album, I can get you six months off the road instead of three to produce it. They’re only giving you the three in hopes that you actually write something, otherwise they’d just keep you going.”
Jason’s eyes went sorrier still, and he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
He couldn’t write. It was bad before we went on the road, and now it was the worst it had ever been. I don’t know how they expected him to summon creativity under these conditions.
“And since I have you two on the phone, I gotta tell you something else,” Ernie said. “And I’m gonna warn you, you’re not gonna like it.”
Jason looked up at me and we waited.
“They booked you in Amsterdam for Thanksgiving. And you’re going to Paris for Christmas.”
What little was left in my tank bled out.
Chapter 36
Jason
♪ i don’t know what to say | Bring Me the Horizon
The light drained right out of Sloan’s eyes. She blinked at me wordlessly for a few seconds, then turned and walked slowly into the bathroom.
“Ernie, I gotta call you back.”
I hung up and followed her. She was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat with her face in her hands and I crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry, Sloan.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I was sorry. I was sorry every fucking day out here.
This wasn’t a life. She was run-down and bored. She missed her friends and her family. I did what I could to make it fun for her, but being on the road was just fucking brutal.
She didn’t take her face from her hands. “I just need a minute to process this,” she said quietly.
She’d been looking forward to going home. She missed Kristen, and she wanted to do that commission. It was all she talked about. And now it had just been ripped out from under her.
What kind of fucked-up cosmic joke was it that my passion involved constant motion and travel, and hers required total and complete stillness?
“Hey.” I put a kiss on her knee. “Maybe we can go see the Louvre?” I said hopefully, knowing that they’d probably have me running to the next thing and it wouldn’t happen.
She must have known it too. She didn’t reply.
“Sloan…”
She took a deep breath and pulled a piece of toilet paper from the roll and wiped at her nose. “Okay. It is what it is.” She sniffed. “We can’t change it. So how much longer?” Her beautiful eyes were bloodshot. “How long is your contract? When it’s over, Ernie can renegotiate your terms, right? We can ask for better schedules? More control?”
“Yes, but…” My heart sank at what I was going to have to tell her.
When I got my record deal, I’d been ecstatic. Most musicians got a single album offer with an option to renew if the artist did well enough. You got offered two albums if the label had faith in you. Very few got the offer I did—and I’d gotten it because they’d accurately foreseen what was happening to me now: stardom.