Sarah
Ididn’t think it was possible, but Horse and I were doing a pretty good job of being friends, as long as you defined friends as two people who don’t do anything sexual together. On my part, there were a lot of sexy daydreams, and on his part, there were little touches and a whole lot of flirty talk, but so far, we kept the fraternizing at bay.In general, we were spending a lot of time together. We ate almost every meal together, and if he was too busy to eat with me, I often brought him lunch or dinner wherever he was working. This often prompted Stew to say, “What am I, chopped liver?”
My canned reply was “No, you’re beefy Stew,” which always made Stew peacock and puff out his chest.
Being around Horse was the sweetest kind of torture. He was way more than just fun to look at. He was funny and thoughtful. When you told him something, he didn’t always respond right away. He had this way of getting real quiet as he considered your words. And then just before you asked him if he had heard you, he’d say something insightful. He really thought through stuff. I was kind of a fire-at-will girl, so his presence was a calming salve to my burning fever.
He was also beyond talented. I had begrudgingly convinced him to work on my songs with me. He would not even touch a guitar but as long as no one else was around, he would sit with me and tweak cords and notes or perfect lyrics. His sense of music was unparalleled. My whole life, the only person I’d ever known who bled music through and through was Kat, but Horse was like that. His soul was made of music. I was a good songwriter, but with him, I was better. He could see through the confusion of your creativity to the essence of what you wanted. I totally understood how he got his nickname. I would imagine that any musician could be catapulted to stardom with him by their side.
Admittedly, I was crushing on him pretty hard. I felt like a middle schooler, giggling at all his little jokes and trying to think of reasons to be wherever he was. My saving grace was that we lived together, so I had a legit reason for being in his space more often than not. We had kind of worked out an evening routine. On performance nights, I didn’t really get to see him. I mean, I’d hang in the wings with him during Kat’s set—sometimes she’d call me out to sing with her, sometimes not—but it wasn’t weird to anyone that I stayed near the stage. Then, after the show, I’d spend a few minutes catching up with Kat and Bill before they headed off to catch their plane home or to the next city. Horse and the crew would load out the equipment, and I would go back to our bus and make sure all the things they’d want when they were done working were waiting for them: Twizzlers and Budweiser for Gwen, Bugles and PB&J sandwiches for Leon, and beef jerky and Perrier for Horse. As they came on the bus, tired and still somehow sizzling with energy, they were so thankful to have me there caring for them. We’d all watch TV or play video games and laugh. Evenings with them had started to feel like home.
On nights when we were on the road, Horse and I played Scrabble. Tonight was one of those nights. We were driving from Albuquerque to LA. We’d been sitting at the big table at the front of the bus for about an hour. We had one of those little travel Scrabble sets so we sat at the corner of the table where the couch curved, catty-corner to each other. Our feet had to constantly fight for space or give in to touching. He was wearing a navy-blue t-shirt that pulled tight across his biceps and gray sweatpants. I was barefoot in black leggings and a thin white V-neck t-shirt with my long hair wrapped high in a messy bun. I felt like we were both in our snuggly clothes and in my mind, I kept picturing us curling up on a couch to um… Netflix and chill. I actually had a lot of time to daydream of us canoodling because I’d been waiting for him to take his turn for easily twenty minutes.
On a tour bus, you’re never really alone. Gwen, Leon, Sean, and Neville were milling about, snacking, watching TV, and talking to Spatz. From the bench across the aisle, Gwen, who was wearing jeans with big rips at the knees and drinking a Budweiser, said, “You two are like equally boring.”
Sean concurred. “Oh I know, they’re like a match made in heaven. Who knew, all these years the reason the big boss didn’t socialize is because no one asked him to play Scrabble.”
Gwen laughed.
Leon, who was at the kitchen counter making a snack for Spatz, said, “They are also like the slowest Scrabble players in the universe. Each turn is a half hour, easy.”
“It takes strategy,” I argued.
“Don’t engage,” Horse said under his breath. “They’re baiting you.”
“What’s that, boss?” Gwen goaded.
“Can’t concentrate,” Horse said louder like they cared.
“I’m tired of watching you two play. It’s like watching grass grow,” Gwen said coyly. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if she was referencing our Scrabble game or our relationship, so I said nothing.
“You know what I want to do?” Sean asked.
“Shots?” Gwen offered.
“No, but that’s a good idea, Gwennie Bee. We should do shots and break out the Mario Kart.”
The tour bus was equipped with an insane amount of gaming options. Apparently, gaming was a thing on tour buses. It made sense. Gaming was a great way to bide your time. Our bus had lots of more current systems, but from time to time, our crew just dove wholeheartedly into intense bouts of Wii Mario Kart. It was a physical experience. We had all these little white steering wheels and the Wii was connected to the television that was on the wall across from the table that Horse and I were currently playing Scrabble on. So, we regularly gathered around the table and went nuts. There was jumping and bumping and screaming, especially when drinking was involved.
Neville, who had just crawled out of his bunk and joined the group, said, “I’m game.”
“Me too,” said Leon as he made his way down the aisle to give Spatz the sandwich he just finished making.
“What about you two?” Gwen asked, smiling. “You want to get rowdy or stay dowdy?”
“I’m winning,” Horse whined.
“You are not,” I said indignantly.
“I’m ahead by fifty points, Sarah.”
“That’s one good word. I’m not out yet,” I snapped snootily.
“I’m going to assume that this little spat equates to staying dowdy.” Gwen laughed.
“Just play around us,” Horse offered.
And that’s what they did. They all squeezed into the U-shaped bench next to Horse and proceeded to play and drink. Since the drinking had begun before the game, it didn’t take long for the excitement and competition to take on a blazing intensity. By the third round, Gwen was all but standing on top of the table. They were all engaged in their game and paying no attention to us.
“This cannot be safe,” I whispered to Horse. “What if we were in an accident?”
He shrugged. “It’s tour life. Comes with risks.” Neville bumped into Horse's back and almost knocked over our game.
“Maybe we should quit,” Horse suggested.
“Do you concede?” I asked.
“Not a chance,” he said.
“We can play at the little table in my room,” I offered, not overthinking it at all.
Horse’s eyes widened a bit and his face got totally still. “You sure? That might look…” He trailed off.
“But it’s not,” I said, even though I still felt the heat rising in my cheeks.
Horse looked at me for another beat and then nodded once brusquely and moved to pick up the game. Our departure did not go unnoticed.
In a kind of singsong voice, Sean said, “Where are you two friendly-birds off to?”
I turned back to answer but Horse did not. Instead, he hollered, “Getting away from you maniacs.”
“Oooooo,” Gwen teased, “I've been saying you two should just get a room already.”
Again, I went to speak but Horse kept coming at me, headed for my room, so I followed his lead and just kept moving.
Behind me, I heard Leon say, “Come on, you guys, just leave ’em alone. They’re only trying to get their Scrabble on.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Neville teased.
Leon laughed. “A nerdy one.”
And then they were all laughing, but Horse closed the divider behind us as we entered the bunk section of the bus and the sounds faded. The lights were low and we squeezed in the aisle between the bunks. I realized that this was going to be intimate.
I approached the door to my room, suddenly nervous, and asked, “Was this a mistake?”
Just inches behind me, low and rumbly, Horse said, “You are never a mistake, Sarah.”