The day I saw myself blasted on social media as Jem’s latest chick, it pissed me off. Jem said he didn’t give a shit; I could be eighty years old and they’d still accuse me of being more. The guys loved the situation because the photo meant more publicity for the band. As they’re right, I put up with the rumours and bit my tongue.
“Jem and me don’t interact a lot—and I sure as hell won’t be asking to share his hotel room.”
Nate whispers something to Will and they snicker. I’m ready to lose my shit, because for the first time I’m aware that as the only female band member I’m different.
“I’ll sleep on the floor, Ruby,” says Jax and I glance at him. He knows me better than I realise, his awareness of my moods helps with band diplomacy on my bad days.
“You’ll pass out on the floor anyway, so nothing for me to worry about,” I tell him.
Jax climbs back off the bed. “Let’s grab the rest of our gear from the van. We haven’t much time until we need to be at the venue to set up.” He stops as he reaches me. “Next time we’ll ask for four singles.”
The smile he gives is apologetic but also concern. Jem doesn’t want to know about Tuesday, but Jax spent time trying to persuade me to talk about her. In the early days, Jax attempted to talk to me about Dan, too. He soon learned that I wouldn’t allow anyone to interfere and hid as much as I could. Jax recognises when Tuesday’s around, but has given up trying to understand her.
* * *
A couple of hours later,Jax and me sit on the edge of the stage chatting as the brothers finish setting up their gear. Will and Nate contain enough excitement for all of us. They’ve always amused me, their enthusiasm for life infectious. On my dark days, spending time with the brothers helps. Their positivity radiates to those around, and multiplied by two, the twins always bring a great vibe to anywhere they go. This reflects in their music, and is why Ruby Riot’s music could never have a downbeat sound.
What would life be like as a twin? Will and Nate are identical and telling them apart isn’t helped by their decision to rock the same image. Their identical spiked black hair doesn’t help. I tease them sometimes, saying they should tattoo their names on themselves since they have plenty of others. They made a concession – both have pierced eyebrows, but Will’s is the left and Nate’s the right. The pair play on this and I’ve heard them offers to show girls other differences in their appearance—differences not visible when they’re clothed. I laugh, at their idiocy and at the girls who fall for their spin.
Jax shows me the latest viral videos on his phone, not-so-hilarious footage of guys our age doing stupid things. Gluing their mouths together with superglue is funny, why? I feign interest but keep checking the time on my phone. Every night we’re due on stage, I freak out for a few hours before. My mouth has a mind of its own and I’m best avoided altogether because when adrenaline courses through me, things never come out well. The guys tend to leave me alone or ignore any outbursts. They know what to expect, and I’m heading in that direction again.
I haven’t seen Jem since this morning when we left his house and weirdly went our separate ways to travel to the same place. I piled into the hired van with the guys and Jem said he had something to do before he started the trip to Manchester. I don’t think Jem is sleeping again because recently I hear a door bang in the night as he goes down to his gym, and then when he comes back up I wake again. Some nights I hear him playing in the early hours. What concerns me is I worry about Jem.
We both hide but parts of us seep through.
Things cooled between us when I refused to go to the police again. Jem insisted but I was too hungover and not in the mood for him to interfere. I didn’t appreciate his comments about fixing me, or the weird look he gave me when he told me he wanted to help. That’s too reminiscent of Dan’s ‘help’: taking control.
Jem’s face is a pissed-off red when he stomps into the stage area. I don’t miss the fact his look lingers on where Jax’s arm drapes around my shoulder, or how he avoids meeting my eyes. This is the other thing that concerns me. I can’t deny I’m attracted to him and I’m aware of something between us never mentioned in the time we spent alone in his house. Unless I’m imagining something. I don’t know.
“What’s up, man?” asks Jax, dropping his arm.
“I’m not used to dealing with this shit,” Jem says. “I usually just play and don’t have to deal with venue managers and crap.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“They’re screwing around over door sales percentages or something. I don’t understand this side of things.” Jem’s half-talking to himself. “And why the hell are you two sitting there?”
I stiffen. “What?”
“Will and Nate are sound-checking. You guys think you’re too good to join in?”
“We’re done; they had some sound issues they wanted to double-check,” I retort.
“You do this as a band!”
“We do this how we always do it!” I say and stand. “We haveourway of doing this.”
Jem glares at me. “You have to do thingsmyway when you’re on tour with me.”
I straighten. “What the fuck? Since when?”
“I know what I’m doing. I’ve been around this a lot longer than you.”
“And we don’t?” This isn’t helping the pre-show anxiety.
“You have a lot to learn, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?Since when did he call me such a condescending name? “Fuck this!” Relieved that my self-control manages to limit me to just those words, I stomp away to the Green Room. I need to change since I’m still in my scruffy track pants and loose flannel shirt, and I’m not performing in those.