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he waved a hand though the air.
     “That kind of thing.” He fixed me with a stare. “Not to write about, in any way, Lily.
     Not even as a metaphor. Understood?”
    I nodded, again filled with a strange kind of fear before this man who did indeed
     control his entire empire—yet never spoke of it, never mentioned the hours of work
     that went into all of it. Again it struck me that no one really did get anywhere without
     the secret effort, control, energy that had to be hidden, precious and guarded. “Understood,”
     was all I said. No time for explanations.
    We walked up to the bus, and he knocked on the door. He stepped back as it swung open,
     and we could hear music and the sounds of people talking. Tristan shook hands with
     this driver as well, and I gave a wave as we walked into the living room of the bus.
     It was like an extended motor home, a trailer, a gypsy caravan with a flat screen,
     a rolling picnic basket filled with beer and wine. The windows were large, but tinted,
     and the world was sucked away as the door hissed shut. Despite the size, it was a
     little claustrophobic. I took a deep breath. I’d get used to it. I had to. The sofa
     was already filled with the three people in the band. There was Jack, the bassist,
     who I’d met and spoken to in London. He raised a hand in greeting, as Tristan said
     hello, and introduced me. “You all remember Lily, right?” At the end, legs extended
     and covered in worn jeans, the skin visible through the slits in the thigh, one stretched
     over the end of the sofa on top of the built in table, the other ending in a laced
     up black boot firmly planted on the floor, was the drummer, Pete. His head was leaning
     against Jack’s shoulder. And there, at the edge, was AC. He extracted himself from
     under Jack, causing him to fall over and knock over the drummer. They all laughed.
    AC launched himself at Tristan and wrapped him in a big hug. Tristan squeezed him
     back, and ruffled his hair. I stood there, and AC looked up at me, a question in his
     eyes. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Tristan clearly was relieved to have him there.
     That much was obvious. I waved at AC, smiling. He flashed a big grin back and opened
     his arm, leaving space for me to join in. He nodded his head up and down, a small
     gesture of encouragement, and as I stepped in to the hug, Tristan moved and squeezed
     us altogether. It felt quiet suddenly, then Tristan kissed the top of AC’s head, then
     the top of mine, and moved away. “Structure and harmony,” was all he said, as he stepped
     back, opening up our trio, my arm still around Tristan, AC’s arm still around him
     on the other side, and stood like that, watching Jack and Pete who had started fake
     punching each other. They stopped when they saw us watching.
    “Yo! Tristan!” Pete called out. “Fucking come sit down and have a beer. Grab me one
     too while you’re at it.” Tristan laughed, and went over to him and gave him a big
     hug as well. “Get your own you lazy fuck,” he said, smiling, and I watched as AC pulled
     out a six pack of Heineken from the cooler, and open them one by one and hand them
     around.
    “Dude, you’re here. Excellent! Let the show begin,” said Jack. Tristan began to speak
     and he interrupted him. “Yeah, I remember Lily from London. Lily from London!” He
     reached out and clinked beer bottles with me. “Nice to see you. Maybe you’ll be a
     stabilizing force on this bunch. It can’t just be me all the time.” The drummer and
     AC snorted with laughter. “Shut up you two. I’m extremely stable.”
    “Yeah, and we won’t tell Lily you were just watching porn with us,” Pete murmured,
     then shouted, “Whoops! What have I said?” And they all started laughing again.
    “You two are assholes.” AC looked at me. “Night one on tour Lily. Where anticipation
     still fuels the party.”
    “Instead of being tired,” Jack said.
    “Or wasted,” added the drummer.
    “Or