he said, pressing the keypad on his phone. "I don't want to give up two hours with you." He walked over to the couch and sat with his arm across the back. "Hey, Tony, can you get one of the techs to do my guitar check for me? I'm super busy." He winked at me before his eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? Fine. Put him on." A booming voice came on to the line—I could hear it from across the room. Peter rolled his eyes.
"Elliot, chill out. We'll work on the new song tomorrow night in Boston. It's not that big of a deal. It's not like we were going to play it tonight." He shook his head. "You know what? She's my girlfriend and I want to spend time with her. Is that so wrong? You and Stony pull this kind of shit all the time and I never say anything. So just deal with it. I'll be there an hour before we go on." He pushed another button on his phone and tossed it onto the couch.
"You didn't have to do that." I hated feeling like I might be causing a problem. "Seriously. If you need to go, you should go. Don't get into a thing with Elliot just because of me."
He got up and walked toward me, reaching for my hand and pulling me back to standing. "Fuck Elliot. You are way more important to me right now."
When it was time to head to the club, we took the Town Car Peter had arranged. We leaned against each other in the backseat and held hands, our fingers intertwined. Neither of us said a thing for a stretch. Silence. Comfortable silence. I didn't need to talk and apparently neither did he. We could just be. Together.
I peered up at Peter. He grinned and kissed me on the forehead, allowing his lips to linger. The city breezed by through the windows—clusters of people on the sidewalk, a hot dog cart, a stretch of construction scaffolding and the rickety wood pedestrian tunnel beneath.
"I love this city," I muttered, shifting in my seat and snuggling closer to him.
"It's pretty awesome. We love coming to play here. Not sure I could ever live here though. I've been in Chicago my whole life."
"I like Chicago," I said, my voice fading. I'd been to Chicago several times for photo shoots and I thought it was fun, but I stubbornly clung to my Manhattan Visitor's Bureau attitude—there's no real reason to live anywhere else.
Peter directed the driver back behind the club and ushered me through the congestion of equipment trucks to the place where Slump's two massive black tour buses sat idling. Elliot stood talking to a pair of women outside one of the bus doors. The three of them spotted us as we approached and the women hustled up to Peter, CDs and Sharpies in hand, asking for autographs. Elliot seemed noticeably annoyed as he trailed behind them.
One of the girls was spilling out of her top, jiggling and tittering as she rambled on to Peter. "Oh my God. My sister has been totally in love with you forever. She would die if she knew I met you."
Peter nodded and smiled, signed her CD and handed it back to her.
The second fan tried a different approach, speaking in a phony intellectual voice. "You guys are my favorite band in the whole world. I listen to your music and it's so moving. I feel like I really understand you guys. This is the third show we've seen on this tour. We're driving up to Toronto too." She continued watching as he signed a stack of CDs, very noticeably rubbing her breast against his upper arm.
I fought a strong urge to throw my arms around him and mark my territory by kissing him with reckless abandon. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I crossed my arms across my chest. Jealousy was admittedly my worst personality trait and it hadn't been tested in years. But I was older now, no longer the insecure twit I'd been when I was with Brad.
Elliot smiled smugly as the two girls returned to his side. "Yo, Pete, we need to talk about the sound check thing today." He cocked an eyebrow and nodded in my direction, as if I was the source of the problem.
Now my blood was boiling in a new way. Asshole. I'm not some
"Elliot, chill out. We'll work on the new song tomorrow night in Boston. It's not that big of a deal. It's not like we were going to play it tonight." He shook his head. "You know what? She's my girlfriend and I want to spend time with her. Is that so wrong? You and Stony pull this kind of shit all the time and I never say anything. So just deal with it. I'll be there an hour before we go on." He pushed another button on his phone and tossed it onto the couch.
"You didn't have to do that." I hated feeling like I might be causing a problem. "Seriously. If you need to go, you should go. Don't get into a thing with Elliot just because of me."
He got up and walked toward me, reaching for my hand and pulling me back to standing. "Fuck Elliot. You are way more important to me right now."
When it was time to head to the club, we took the Town Car Peter had arranged. We leaned against each other in the backseat and held hands, our fingers intertwined. Neither of us said a thing for a stretch. Silence. Comfortable silence. I didn't need to talk and apparently neither did he. We could just be. Together.
I peered up at Peter. He grinned and kissed me on the forehead, allowing his lips to linger. The city breezed by through the windows—clusters of people on the sidewalk, a hot dog cart, a stretch of construction scaffolding and the rickety wood pedestrian tunnel beneath.
"I love this city," I muttered, shifting in my seat and snuggling closer to him.
"It's pretty awesome. We love coming to play here. Not sure I could ever live here though. I've been in Chicago my whole life."
"I like Chicago," I said, my voice fading. I'd been to Chicago several times for photo shoots and I thought it was fun, but I stubbornly clung to my Manhattan Visitor's Bureau attitude—there's no real reason to live anywhere else.
Peter directed the driver back behind the club and ushered me through the congestion of equipment trucks to the place where Slump's two massive black tour buses sat idling. Elliot stood talking to a pair of women outside one of the bus doors. The three of them spotted us as we approached and the women hustled up to Peter, CDs and Sharpies in hand, asking for autographs. Elliot seemed noticeably annoyed as he trailed behind them.
One of the girls was spilling out of her top, jiggling and tittering as she rambled on to Peter. "Oh my God. My sister has been totally in love with you forever. She would die if she knew I met you."
Peter nodded and smiled, signed her CD and handed it back to her.
The second fan tried a different approach, speaking in a phony intellectual voice. "You guys are my favorite band in the whole world. I listen to your music and it's so moving. I feel like I really understand you guys. This is the third show we've seen on this tour. We're driving up to Toronto too." She continued watching as he signed a stack of CDs, very noticeably rubbing her breast against his upper arm.
I fought a strong urge to throw my arms around him and mark my territory by kissing him with reckless abandon. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I crossed my arms across my chest. Jealousy was admittedly my worst personality trait and it hadn't been tested in years. But I was older now, no longer the insecure twit I'd been when I was with Brad.
Elliot smiled smugly as the two girls returned to his side. "Yo, Pete, we need to talk about the sound check thing today." He cocked an eyebrow and nodded in my direction, as if I was the source of the problem.
Now my blood was boiling in a new way. Asshole. I'm not some
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