Intimate Secrets

Standing outside the bus, smoking his third cancer stick of the morning as he talked to the woman he professed to love, Andy couldn’t get his mind off his best friend. He acted like he was paying attention to the conversation he was supposedly having with Juliet, when in reality he was letting an alter ego of sorts do the talking while his true personality hid from the world.

He was worried sick about Ashley because, although he was a heavy drinker when they met a few years ago, his drinking seemed to be getting increasingly worse the past year or so. It was almost as if the bassist was trying to push his luck and see how much it took to give himself alcohol poisoning, then die from it. He sighed mentally as he wondered what on Earth would cause the upbeat and carefree man to suddenly act depressed and want to drink till dawn’s light all the time. Surely it was just something stupid that caused him to be that way, like his alcohol tolerance being higher than what it used to be.

By the time he finally managed to end the phone call he could care less about, his thoughts had turned to the problem that made him wish he were legal to drink himself. Like an idiot, he’d fallen in love with Ashley, even though it was pretty obvious that his friend was as straight as a stripper pole. He’d thought he was, too, at one point, but now he knew he didn’t bat that way and probably never had. If anything, he’d probably fooled himself into thinking he did to hide the truth from everybody, even himself.

Lost in his own little world, Andy didn’t even realize that he stood outside the bus smoking another four cigarettes until Jinxx, the only one who knew the truth about him, stepped outside. An expression of concern was etched into his face, and he reached up and yanked the cancer stick from between his lips, dropped it on the ground, and stomped it out with the toe of his boot. Giving him a nasty look, he merely pulled out and let another one, not caring if the smoke got blown into his face since he’d pissed him off. Sighing, Jinxx leaned back against the bus beside him and crossed his arms over his chest, giving him a look that a mother would give her lying child when she wanted the truth.

“Thinking about Ashley again?” he asked quietly.

“How can I not?” he countered, exhaling a drag as he spoke. “I love him with every fiber of my being, and even though he doesn’t love me like that, it hurts to see him practically killing himself.”

“I know it does. I may not love him like a lover would, but it hurts me just as much to see him in such pain that he tries to drown his sorrows every night,” Jinxx agreed, sighing sadly.

“I wish I could tell him the truth.” Andy took another drag before speaking again. “But even if I weren’t in a relationship with Juliet, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me like that, and probably never will.”

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder about that,” the multi-instrumentalist said.

Curious, he cocked his brow at him, his cancer stick dangling from his lips.

“There are times when I’ll notice something shining in his eyes when your name is mentioned, but it’s gone so quick I ask myself if I imagined it,” he admitted.

“You think that maybe he loves me, too, but is too scared to admit it?” he asked.

“Well, think about it, Andy. You’re in a relationship and supposedly straight; he’s living his dream at last.” Jinxx paused thoughtfully. “He probably doesn’t wanna scare you, or have you hate him and kick him out of the band for having such feelings.”

“I could never hate him, and even if I did, I’d never take his dreams away from him just for loving me!”

“Well, Ashley doesn’t know that. If he did, he’d likely have come clean by now.”

“I guess that’s true enough.”

“Hell, you know I like playing Devil’s advocate; that’s why I’m so good at seeing situations from multiple points of view,” he chuckled.

“And why you’re so Devilishly good at getting the rest of us to, as well,” Andy agreed.

“Well, we need to start getting ready for the show tonight. You want me to search for Ashley so he doesn’t run away again?” he asked.

“Works for me. Just bring him back safe, Jinxx,” he answered.

Nodding, the multi-instrumentalist started in the opposite direction of where the bus was parked to begin his search for their missing bassist. The young frontman headed back onto aforementioned bus with a sigh so, like CC and their lead guitarist, Jake, he could start getting ready. They all took forever, Ashley taking the longest since he prided himself on looking perfect, so they had to start getting ready earlier than most would even dream they did.

Sighing as he started pulling on his leather pants that had a white arrow he called his “Penis GPS” painted on one leg, Andy couldn’t help but continue to wonder what’d gotten into his best friend. Jake and CC noticed how quiet he was while getting ready, but knew he often got like that when thinking. They just chose to leave him to his thoughts, which was probably their smartest decision.

By the time the three of them were done getting ready, Jinxx had returned with their bassist in tow. He looked as somber as Andy felt, but none of them chose to remark upon it. That’d likely get them a snarky response like he’d gotten this morning when he told him he really should stop drinking like he was, which would ruin the mood for their show. They knew each other’s limits and what would happen if pushed until the person broke, so they chose to leave the sleeping dogs lying, so to speak. None of them wanted to lie down and get back up with figurative fleas, or they probably would’ve asked what was wrong. Besides, from the knowing look on Jinxx’s face, he knew what was bothering Ashley, and that it would come out in due time.

Once the bassist was ready to go an hour later, they all headed to the stage, where the roadies had already set up their equipment. CC’s kit was already set up and the drummer had his sticks in his back pocket, as always, Jake’s and Jinxx’s guitars were on stands by the side of the stage, and Ashley’s bass was in the hands of his tech as he made sure it was tuned. Granted, the bassist would just fix any mistakes that were made once it was put in his hands, but at least the guy tried. Andy was handed his mic right before they were due to go on, and soon enough, he was getting the rush he always got when performing.

* * *

After the show, they had a meet-and-greet that Ashley pled a headache to get out of, but no one thought much of the bassist’s absence. The fans who wanted to meet him specifically were disappointed to find out that he wasn’t there, but were concerned when they found out he had a headache bad enough to skip the meet-and-greet. They all told the guys to tell him they hoped he felt better soon, something the remaining quartet agreed to do with smiles on their faces, before moving on.

When it was time to head back to the bus, Andy couldn’t help but wonder if the man he loved really did have a headache, or if he’d just said he did so he could go out and get drunk again. Upon entering the bus, he saw that Ashley’s personal effects were still on the kitchen counter where he’d left them earlier that day, and he never went anywhere without them.

Holding his breath in the hopes that he really was on the bus, the frontman made his way back to the bunk room to check on him as the rest of the guys flopped down in the living area. They all knew better than to make too much noise on the nights that Ashley claimed to have a headache, knowing that he was meaner than a diamond-back when he had one. It was never a good idea to provoke him when he had a headache, as they were often migraines, and having had a few himself in the past, Andy knew just how painful they were. In fact, he’d been the one to lay down the rule about little-to-no noise when a headache was pled.

Once in the bunk room, he quietly made his way over to the bassist’s bunk and gently pulled the closed curtain back enough to peek inside. Lying there on his left side so that he faced the aisle, looking like an angel, Ashley was sound asleep. Heaving a softly sigh of relief, the younger man bent down enough to reach him, brushed his hair back, and gently placed his lips on his forehead. He quietly wished him a good night’s sleep and sweet dreams before pulling the curtain back to its previous position, then going to let the guys know he was, indeed, on the bus. They, too, heaved sighs of relief, knowing how the bassist could be at times, and he headed back to the bathroom to take off his makeup and war paint before calling it a night himself.

Notes