but you don’t see me trying to rip heads off and fuck every dark haired girl in New York City. Get your shit together. I am serious, man. Jules isn’t worth this,” he firmly stated, pointing his drumsticks down my body and back up to my face. I looked at Dex and his sticks and nodded. Lord, please help me if he sticks one of those in my eye.
I was paranoid. I was losing it. She was all that I wanted. Jules was all I craved. An addiction that clearly trumped any other addiction I ever had. This would be the worst detox in the history of detoxes. Intervention, however small it was, maybe worked. Maybe Dex was my best friend after all. He cared enough to tell me to grow a pair, right? I had faced the fact that Julia Delaney was gone forever but I still hadn’t gotten me back. Maybe that’s why I hated Dex’s new song so much. I wasn’t me anymore. I was far more fucked up than I’d ever been. I scrubbed my day old scruff on my chin and nodded in consent. I had to acquiesce. I had to focus on what was right in front of me. I had my bass, my voice, and I had to get the hell out from doing stupid shit daily.
I made my way to the back stage lounge area to set up my bass and get ready for our gig at the Max. It was yet another sold out show and to be honest, this surprised me. If I missed Jules so much, certainly her fans did, too. There was some hype about Ethan, though. He was the new kid on the block and I had seen his stupid mug in a few magazines with blondes hanging off his arm while getting a latte at the local Starbucks. Whatever. How cliché.
Danielle ran up to me, looking like her head was about to spin off her body before exploding into a million bloody pieces. I smiled at the thought. That would be so cool.
“I have an Emily McDonald on the line for you,” she said as she pinched her ear piece to put it on mute.
Emily McDonald? I shot Danielle a quizzical look. Her return stare was one of extreme frustration.
“Who the fuck is that?” I snapped. She shrugged in return, looking harried. Show nights always dumped an overabundance of bullshit on her. I really didn’t envy her job.
I shook my head. “No, don’t know who she is,” I confirmed as I started to walk again. I heard her mumbling from behind me before she grabbed my shirt to redirect me back to her.
“She says she’s best friends with Julia and needs to speak to you,” she supplied in a rush tone. Danielle didn’t like personal phone calls either. She was all business when we were on tour. Sure, we were only doing a New England tour right now but she was still far away from her LA condo.
“Jules doesn’t – um didn’t have best friends…anymore,” I stammered at how to answer to that statement. I walked away. I heard Danielle give the girl information that I didn’t care to hear about. Something struck me about the call- did anyone else find it weird that calls for Julia were still coming years later? Obviously, this girl lived in a cave somewhere along the Appalachian Trail and had no idea that LSP no longer employed said bitch lead singer. I wasn’t bitter but if I ever saw her again, I had a whole letter ready to give her, which I had written in therapy.
I had just sat down on the leather couch and grabbed my guitar when Danielle came in and threw a slip of paper at me.
“Here’s Emily’s phone number if you’re ever interested in knowing what that was all about,” she snapped as she rolled her eyes. With that she was off to fight another tour related battle. We needed to give her a raise. I hadn’t really paid much attention due to my attempts to make Ethan jump ship but Danielle was a smart, loyal tour manager. I would have to bring that up with the band if we ever did find a moment to be together.
I crumbled the paper into a tiny ball and threw it in the trash can. I went back to setting up my bass and tuning my vocals, since I was back up on some songs. Ethan came back a while later and announced that