Chapter 63: Smart Girls Play Never Have I Ever

Marley

The bus ride is my golden time.

My favorite part of the day, except for the show, of course.

Specifically the time on the bus immediately following the food stop. These rock stars call it breakfast, but that doesn't stop Adam from wanting cheeseburgers or Leed and the girls from insisting on kale and sweet potato salads. Or Trace from trying to tempt Kat and Ashlynn off their strict new clean eating program by calling for the ingredients to make chocolate drizzled popcorn in the tour bus microwave.

Bodie is the only one that typically hankers for breakfast food—omelets and bacon cheese grits and toast smothered with jelly. And gallons of coffee. Darius usually falls in line with him, at least in terms of the restaurant source. He asks for chicken and waffles or sausage biscuits.

The mom in me wants to tell these rock stars that they are too big for their britches and demand they order from one fricking restaurant like normal people.

But Doc Gorgeous? Her job is to keep the talent happy. As my boss reminded me several times in the first week when he traveled with us to get me up to speed on how to handle the morning press junkets. After seeing me scold them all for acting somewhat less mature than my 13yo son, Riley said:

Don't sweat the small stuff that keeps them feeling pampered. Touring looks like hard work for management and the crew and fun and games for the five of them. But that's not true. The vibrancy they have to summon for morning press? The sheer energy they put on stage every night? The green room networking? The ways they show their appreciation for the fans? The leadership and gratitude they exhibit to the crew?

It's a war of attrition they are waging. In a few weeks the five of them will be more exhausted than any crew member. Leed's voice will be shot by week six and he'll battle on, weighing the worth of every word he speaks off stage. Mac? She's still breast-feeding a four month old. The next sixteen weeks might even be harder for her than touring pregnant. Certainly they will be harder for Adam, who isn't doing well with less sleep. Or less sex. And Trace? He suffers the burden of leadership. And this time? Touring with Skid Marcs? Big shoes to fill every night.

Then there's Bodie. No one works harder every day on tour than Bodie. He can't stop himself from being a volunteer roadie...that's just the nature of a drummer—always the high energy work horse of the band. Not to mention the show. Mid-tour has always been where he ran into trouble with pills, Marley. Needing some speed to amp up for the show. A few sleeping pills after. An oxy here and there for the pain in his hands? You need to figure out how to help him cope before it becomes a problem...

So Doc Gorgeous? She took all that to heart. She insists on their riders. She never complains about the "breakfast order" she dutifully records at morning press and hands off with apologies to Wynter, who rides ahead with a security guy, figuring out how to fulfill their gastronomical whimsy at precisely 11am in the middle of nowhere.

Doc Gorgeous keeps Leed and Mac's throat soothing teas and Trace's popcorn ingredients stocked. Doc Gorgeous insists that Adam gets a mid-morning nap with his daughter as soon as we hit the buses after morning press, but honestly, he loves a good motherly scolding. Makes him feel taken care of, because he's far too busy taking care of Mac and Len most of the time to worry about his own physical needs.

And Doc Gorgeous has a lot to do when we hit the venue, but she manages to keep the drummer boy from pitching in so hard with roadies by having him teach Darius how to roadie instead. It's a win-win. Bodie conserves some of his energy as he walks around verbally instructing, and Darius expends his pent up energy by hauling drums and crawling around threading cables and setting mics.

Doc Gorgeous has also added a massage therapist to the venue riders. They all need it, except for maybe Leed, whose shoulders are always loose as a goose. But definitely Adam and Trace for general relaxation. And Mac because her back hurts from carrying Lennon so much. And the massage therapist give extra attention to Bodie's hands.

The one thing Doc Gorgeous couldn't understand about Bodie's particular set of needs? His need for sleeping pills at night. You would think all the fangirl sex would have lured him soundly to sleep. But I get it now.

A few inquires made to Soundcrush's security personnel helped me to understand that in the past, Bodie dealt with his fangirls much like Adam. He never put the fangirls out before the next morning. Adam apparently had complete trust in the fresh-faced, sweet girls he chose. But Bodie? The boy who'd had to watch his back for three years in juvi? He is not comfortable sleeping next to strangers.

Bodie sleeps fine with me in his bed. Sex, but no pills, required.

We've hit the seventh week mark, and so far, Bodie's sobriety is intact. Well—since Grammy night, when my cloak and dagger moves at Matt's party frustrated and worried him. In general, everyone is having a great time on this tour.

Like me, everyone seems to enjoy the afternoon bus ride.

When we stop for Wynter to board with our "breakfast," Mac and Adam leave their family bus and join the bus the rest of the band and girlfriends plus Darius share. Today is one of the best days...a day when Leed is not a lone wolf.

Ashlynn is typically only on the tour for the weekend shows—she's hard at work in LA during the week—studying with Ravi or working with her Sweet Child of Mine Board to develop an underwriting package for Laurie Davis' orphanage in Costa Rica. But it's a Saturday, and she flew in for last night's show.

Yes, I love the tour bus brunch. I make a point not to work, at least for a couple of hours—unless it's an absolute emergency like a broken down bus or sick personnel or something.

Today there is no crisis to manage. Just the four couples and Darius, gnoshing, laughing, teasing.

I look around the bus, memorizing the moment. I love the way Leed and Ashlynn light up the place as they share a cup of green juice and a pair of airpods for a gratitude podcast. I love the way Mac and Adam are bickering about Mac getting matching Grammy tattoos with Dev even while they are writing Arabella what is bound to be a hit song about Invisible Tats. I love the way Trace and Kat are giggling over a Netflix movie. I love the way Bodie is absently massaging my feet—because Doc Gorgeous has an image to uphold and it includes wearing skin tight pants and heels as she manages a tour—while we play backgammon.

Darius is strumming guitar—new for him but like his father he's a fast learner at any instrument.

He watches me eke a near win from his dad, and Bodie tickle my feet. He puts down the guitar. "Hey, let's all play a game," he suggests.

"Absolutely!" Leed, who loves fun of all kinds, immediately jumps up and starts handing out beers, sodas and sparkling waters. The Lion settles back down beside Ashlynn, a hand automatically stroking her long thigh. "Let's play Never Have I Ever," he says with an evil grin.

"Leed!" I throw a cushion at him. "No way!" I give him the mom stare.

"Come on, Mom..." Darius roles his eyes. "You think I haven't played that before?"

"I think you never played it rock stars before," I object.

"Relax, Mama, we can keep it PG-13," Bodie winks at me.

"That is not possible with her in the game," I point at Mac.

"Oh shut-up. I can keep it perfectly PG-13." She smiles mischievously. "I'll even go first." She smiles sweetly at Darius. "Never have I ever kissed a white girl."

Mac drinks with a devilish grin. Darius rises, "I changed my mind...I don't wanna play."

Bodie crows at his son. Trace, Leed, and Kat erupt in protest. "No, no, no! Sit down, sit down, play the game!" Leed lunges across the floor, grabbing Darius by the ankles as he tries to move toward the bunk in the back.

"You guys," I sigh. They are embarrassing him.

"Fine, fine," Darius says. He pretends to kick Leed, whom he worships. "Get off me, you fool. I'll play."

He sits back down. "What was the question again?" he asks innocently.

"Never.Have.I.Ever.Kissed.A.Pretty.Little.White.Girl." Mac enunciates. "Wait." She looks at Adam. "Do I have to drink for every time?"

"Get her a case!" Adam calls to Leed. She slaps him and he snickers as he drinks. Everyone drinks except for Darius and I. Even Ashlynn drinks.

"You're in good company with me," I tell Darius, holding out my can of LaCroix to clink with his Sprite.

"Uhhhm...I guess I am...with all of them," he mutters as he makes a painful face and takes a sip.

The whole bus explodes into an uproar. Darius blushes beneath his warm skin and looks at his dad, like Bodie can rescue him from this.

"You did the crime man, now you gotta do the time," Bodie laughs at him, pointing at Adam who looks irritated. "With her Uncle. On this bus." He makes a tsk-ing sound. "I don't usually condone lying, Son, but I might woulda went with a little white one, there..."

"Who said it was...who you think it was..." he mutters, trying to cover.

"Okay, maybe we should stop..." I suggest.

"Oh no!" Adam yells, shaking his head at me, nodding at Darius. "It's my turn. Never have I ever put my lips anywhere on Gwen Heartley-Grayson of Nashville Tennessee." Adam glares as he drinks. Mac bounces up and down in glee and drinks.

Darius closes his eyes, crosses himself—we aren't even Catholic—and takes a pained sip. The bus erupts into more howls and cheers and laughter.

"My turn!" Trace says. "Never have I ever been punched by Adam Heartley." He, Leed and Bodie sip. "Darius if this game goes any further that might be the last time you ever have to abstain on that one..."

"Ha-ha."

Kat clarifies. "Never have I ever kissed more than one girl." All the guys plus Mac and Ashlynn drink.

"Polly!" Mac exclaims at Ashlynn. "I thought you didn't like girls."

"I said I didn't like girls, but I've kissed a few people I didn't particularly like," she says lightly with a gentle smile.

"Cheers to that, Sunshine," Leed says, clinking her drink and smiling at her in adoration. I love how they are so accepting of each other's pasts.

"Darius?" Kat teases. "Are you abstaining?"

He rolls his eyes and hisses, "Yeah, I can't drink to more than one."

"Awww," Kat beats Trace's leg. "So sweet."

It's my turn. "Never have I ever embarrassed the crap out of a perfectly nice thirteen-year-old dude."

They all laugh and drink. "Uhhh, mom...you gotta drink to that too," Darius informs me. I huff.

"You are the worst offender, Baby," Bodie tells me. "Just yesterday morning you yelled at him from the balcony down to the pool, asking if he was wearing sunscreen."

"His ears burns!" I say indignantly.

"Don't care. Not cool. There were some honies down there," Trace objects. Trace would know. Trace has a new soul to take care of. He watches out for Darius like a hawk.

"Fine." I say, sipping. Darius comes over and tips the can, making me chug it as everyone laughs.

Now it's Bodie's turn. "Never have I ever tried to slide to second base without consent."

"Wait...that's confusing...not everyone might know the bases" Kat twerks her mouth at Bodie. She's such a sweetheart. Clearly she knows the bases but she's saying that for Darius' sake.

"If you ever tried to feel up a girl's shirt without knowing how she feels about it first, drink motherfuckers," Trace grimaces guilty and drinks.

All the rock stars look at each other and sigh. "It's a brave new day. Ask if it's okay. Don't be a douchey cliché," Leed singsongs as he drinks.

"Especially not with my niece," Adam warns Darius with a finger and drinks himself, then continues right on with his hypocrisy. "Especially not tonight. I will eff you up." The show is in Knoxville tonight—the closest we will get to Nashville. Brett and her husband are bringing Gwen and Blake and some of their friends.

Bodie is looking thoughtful. "I honestly don't know the answer to my own question. I mean...a fangirl that comes to your college bedroom or hotel room or your rock star crib is obviously is expecting all hands on deck, right? I mean, there's got to be a rock star exemption there...?"

Everybody, including me, laughs at his perplexed expression. I settle the question for him. "I was not a fangirl," I say as I put the can to his lips and everyone hoots.

He drinks but he sneers at me. "You know you wanted it, Jaz."

"That was not the question," I retort. "The question was did you ask before you put your hands up my shirt—"

"Okay, time to throw myself off the bus, now," Darius rises with his guitar. But he doesn't head for the door. Instead he escapes to the back bunk as his father throws a crushed soda can lightly at him.

"You gotta relax your parental standards, D!" Bodie yells after him. "You livin' the rock star life now!"

"I ain't relaxin' my Overprotective Uncle standards, though!" Adam yells after him.

When Darius slams the door closed, Adam swings his head to us. "Seriously."

Mac slaps his arm. "Oh Adam, relax. Of course they are gonna make out tonight. They hardly ever get to see each other and that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do."

Adam looks at Mac. "She's thirteen."

"I lost my virginity at thirteen," Mac says bluntly. "And I'm not saying it was a good thing and I'm not saying I think it would be a good thing for Gwen or Darius, but I'm saying that you can't police teenagers' emerging sexuality like some kind of Nazi. If you treat them like prisoners you can expect them to rebel in every way." Mac looks at me, "Marley, do you think Darius and Gwen are going to have sex tonight?"

I sigh, considering the learning curve of today's youth.

Bodie spits out his Red Bull. "Fuck!" He looks at me in horror. "Do you think that? I hadn't even considered it!?!? Adam is right. They are too young, for Chrissakes! That is not happening!"

I give Bodie an exasperated look and slap him on the peck. "Hello pot, meet kettle."

"I was fifteen, thank you very much. And I was mature as fuck..."

"And so is he," Trace counters. "Much more mature than I was and I was...younger than Bodie, even."

Kat gives him a sharp look. "How young?"

He shrugs. "Summer before high school. Fourteen."

"Who?" Kat shrieks.

"Kitty—"

"Cam's sister," Ash says smugly, sipping her water.

Both Trace and Kat face her with shocked expressions.

"Are you serious!?!?" Kat whispers as Trace says, "You knew?"

"Yes," Ash nods sympathetically to Kat. "And of course I knew," she scoffs at Trace. "You think Cam didn't hear about that?"

"Well no wonder the bastard hates me," Trace grins.

"I thought we were done with Dr.Try-Hard," Leed sighs, stretching out his long legs.

"I'm sorry," Ashlynn strokes his jaw. "It's just so rare that I get to give Trace shit..."

"True. Shit-sling at my brother if you must, Sunshine," he says with a wink.

"Are you gonna tell or am I?" Ashlynn says with devious look at Trace.

"You sure as shit can't tell the story, because I know for a fact you weren't there, Pollyanna," he sneers.

"What the hell happened with you and Cam's sister?" Kat says, eyes open wide. "I never knew you dated her. I didn't have voo-doo doll for her..." she mumbles.

"You had voo-doo dolls for all the girls Trace dated!?!?" Mac squeals.

"She really did," Ashlynn confirms. "She made them out of socks and cut the girls' pictures of out my yearbooks and hot glued their faces on. I used to get so mad about the yearbooks..."

"Awwww, Kitty. That's so sweet..." Trace kisses her nose.

"Only a warped rock star would think that," I observe.

"Only a weirdo would stalk their Babydaddy in a coffeebar and steal his band's merch from the party she crashed," Trace pops back.

"Never have I ever ratted out Marley's secret confession," I growl.

Mac and Kat both drink.

"It's fine," Trace smiles. "I was gonna burn them anyway, I hated the design."

"I...I still have them. They have wine stains all over them."

"No kidding!That's awesome!" his eyes light.

"Dibs on them for stage costume!" Leed calls.

"Fuck you, I paid for them," Trace says.

"Okay, you wear them, but I get to spotlight you and tell the story on stage."

"Agreed," Trace says.

"Back to Cassie Martin?" Kat probes.

Trace sighs heavily. He leans forward conspiratorially, using a low voice, I suppose so Darius can't hear. "Look I'm not proud of this, okay? But I was young and dumb and you know...rich kids...how utterly stupid and heinous we can be. So...Evan, remember him?" he says to Kat.

"Yeah, the guy whose party we went to on New Year's Eve?"

"Yeah, well he was infamous for having absent parents and being ahead of the social curve in our grade. We were all drinking and smoking weed at his house in the eight grade while his parents were in Aruba or some goddamn where."

"I went over there once. It was disgraceful. There were tween bras floating in the pool." Ashlynn noted.

"And you weren't invited back cause you stuck up your nose and looked offended the whole time, Missy," he pops back.

"I was glad never to be invited back and don't call me Missy, you know I hate that..."

"Which is why I do it," he grins.

"Oh my god, tell your fucking V-card Validation story!" Mac yells.

"Sssssshhhh," Trace says, glaring at her, putting his hands out in a quelling fashion, then giving a chin tip to us across the aisle to move in closer. I can't believe I'm a party to this conversation.

And yet I lean in.

"Okay. I'm not proud—" Trace says.

"You said that already—" Ashlynn pops back.

"Will you let me fucking finish?" he growls, but he grins at her.

She grins back and waves her water at him.

"I didn't actually date Cam's sister, Kat. It was much worse than that. It was...a cherry-poppin' party, okay?"

"You have got to be kidding me." That was Adam, beating me to my own sentiment.

"Sadly, I am not. Evan's house had six bedrooms so there were six girls and six guys invited. Weeks of negotiating the guest list on Evan's part. All of us virgins. All knew what was going down before we got there. Everybody was all in. There was a case of Bud Light and a pack of Trojans on the table. We each had two beers and the girls each wrote their names on a condom packet with a sharpie. The guys drew their partner out of a bowl," He shrugs. "I got Cassie's name. It was...on. Nobody turned back."

Kat's hands are over her mouth, but her eyes surprisingly look, a little concerned.

"Awww, baby, how was it?" she says sympathetically.

"How do you think it was?" he sighs.

"Nerve-wracking, then really awkward, then momentarily exciting for you, mostly disappointing for her, probably secretly regrettable for both of you?"

"Damn." Trace stares at his girlfriend, impressed. "You nailed it."

"That sounds horrible, dude," Leed shakes his head. "You shoulda waited on Tam. She woulda broke you in right when you got to Athens."

"Hey, that's my cousin," Bodie objects.

"Yeah? She's my Babymama," Leed retorts, like he doesn't get Bodie's objection.

"You guys are stupid," Kat scoffs, watching Ashlynn to see if she's offended by Leed's reference to his first. She's not bothered. Then she turns her attention to Trace. "Not as stupid as you, losing your virginity because Evan Wilder goaded you to."

"I know, right?" He agrees and he gulps down the rest of the beer. "Which is why I am telling all of you...kids do stupid, stupid shit. You just never know..."

"I'm not gonna do that!!!!" Darius yells from the back of the bus. "That's...nasty!!!!"

Leed and Mac erupt into howls. Adam and Trace look guilty for the conversation, while the Ballard sisters cover their mouths in horror that he heard.

I'm with the Ballards. I groan. "Oh my god, we are the worst parents," I mutter to Bodie.

"Come on," he says, standing, taking me by the hand. "It's time we have the talk with him."

"He's had the talk. From me. From TJ."

"Naw, I mean the real talk. The we-are-fucking-glad-we-made-you-but-you-don't-want-to-do-things-like-we-did-talk."

"Don't need that either!!!" Darius yells.

"Yeah, you do!" Bodie yells back.

"You know, you remind me more and more of my biodad every day," Trace smirks up at him, cracking open a Red Bull to follow his beer.

Bodie kicks Trace's feet as he pulls me along down the bus.

Darius is sitting cross-legged on the bed in lotus position. "Please go away. I'm trying to recover my sanity," he says as he pinches his fingers and closes his eyes. He's in love with Leed's front man zen, and he's been learning to meditate.

"That's probably never gonna happen, Darius. This is your life now," Bodie grins.

"We do not have to have this talk," he reiterates.

I look at Bodie. "Maybe your dad and I need to have this talk with you? And you can just...suffer through?" I ask hesitantly.

His eyes remain closed but he doesn't protest.

"Look," Bodie says. "I don't want to talk to you about Gwen. Not specifically. Except to tell you that a stand-up dude doesn't kiss and tell. You got that part, right?"

"I got that part," he says.

"Good," Bodie says. "I guess all I want to say to you about girls is...sometimes...you get caught off guard. No matter how prepared you think you might be. The night your mama and I made you...I never saw it comin'. What went down, I mean..."

"I got that part too," he says dryly.

"Darius, open your  eyes," Bodie says in irritation. Darius opens them, rolls them, and trains on Bodie's face.

"Pretty much from the time I was twelve years old until I went to jail, my mother preached safe sex to me. And what did I do my first time out of the gate?" Bodie looks at me. "I had a condom in the drawer, but I still managed to forget everything my mama had preached to me. Got your mama pregnant. Made you. Now of course I don't regret you, but I regret everything else that went down. Regret I didn't even have a clue. That I left you two alone to struggle and partied like a rock star. That I missed out on your mama's love and loving you your first thirteen years. As much I love you both, as good as things are going right now, it's a situation that is going to pain me for the rest of my life.

"You don't want regret over a girl you care about. Any kind of regret. I'm not just talking about getting a girl pregnant. I'm talking about...getting ahead of yourself with a girl, or a girl getting ahead of yourself with you."

"A girl is like a sports car. You gotta learn to drive before you can appreciate a fine machine. You take the curves too fast when you are an inexperienced driver and you are gonna wreck that beauty sure as shit."

"Drive the speed limit. Got it," he says. He looks at me tolerantly, expectantly, like he knows I will weigh in.

I smile at him. "I trust you. You are a good person. A good son. A good friend. I'm sure you will do your best to be a good boyfriend also. It's very important. Because those first relationships? They stay with you," I smile at Bodie. "The good ones." I look at Darius. "And unfortunately, the bad ones as well."

He nods. "I get that."

"Do you have...any questions?" I ask.

He looks at us, silently. Like he's considering. "If you would rather just ask your dad..." I make to move off the bed.

"No, it's not anything like that," he says. "It's just..." he picks up his phone, checks a few snaps, tosses it back down.

"Like how do you really figure out what the speed limit is? Seems like it's different for everybody right? I heard everything that was said in there. Mac and Trace don't seem messed up by their...stuff, and yet I know some people wait longer."

"You're right, Darius. There is no hard and fast rule. You have to know yourself, and your partner has to know herself. And you have to be able to communicate really well...And that's a pretty rare thing, at thirteen..."

"Okay," Darius flings a hand at me. "Okay, that's like...exactly what I'm talking about. The communication thing. You know how you can say things to someone over a text...and that's easier...but when you see them face to face...it's different?"

"Sure," I say, but not really knowing where he's going.

"Well...how do you know...what's just...text...and what a person really means?"

"Well, I think...talking face to face about the things you text about...is the place to start," I say slowly.

"Well what if you can't...I mean...what if that's too...weird."

"Darius...it's kind of...hard for me to answer that question without context..." I look to Bodie for help.

Bodie's lips tighten for a second and he says. "Dude. Let me give it to you straight. If you guys are sexting, you are risking your relationship with her. If there's been anything more than flirtation on her phone and her parents see it? Guaranteed, it's game over for you. They are good people, but they are extremely conservative. No way would they be okay with phone porn. Even if you and Gwen see it like it's just all talk."

Bodie pauses. Like he's giving Darius room to confess. Darius doesn't.

"Well?" Bodie says.

"Is that a trap? Because you said not to kiss and tell. Doesn't that apply to...digital romance, too?" Darius challenges.

Bodie gives him the dad look. "Boy, if you been sending that girl dick picks—"

"Well, now...hold up...I think that's a fair point, Darius. We did say we don't want to press you specifically about Gwen and that we trust you..." I say carefully reminding Bodie not to renege on the trust parameters we already established.

"Okay, alright," Bodie shrugs. "That's true. But you're the one that brought it up, Darius. So if you want my advice...if you want my help...if you feel like maybe you're in the shit with this and you're asking me to get ahead of this with Adam and his family..."

Darius rubs his face. "No. It's not like that. I mean it's not...pictures...or videos...or sexting. Not really. Sometimes we just...talk...philosophically...about what it might be like..."

My heart that was beginning to beat frantically starts to relax somewhat. "You talk about what sex might be like?"

He shrugs. "Not much. Maybe once. Sometimes we talk about other...stuff...but now it's weird that I'm going to see her. I haven't seen her...since like...April. And I just kissed her the one time. Now it's like...real life and virtual life...don't match up."

I sigh. "Darius, welcome to the modern problem of dating." I try to think of some helpful advice. "Of all the things you talk about—not the romantic stuff, all the other stuff—what would you say you talk about most?"

He thinks. "School. Her horse and her competitions. My music."

"Then when you see her in person, you should start there," I suggest. "Talk about the things you are most comfortable talking about. Just let your conversation develop naturally."

"And if you can't comfortably talk to her face-to-face about something romantic, then there's your speed limit," Bodie adds. "Like, if you guys can talk about the kiss you had, then that's probably a cool place for you to be, romantically. If you can't talk about more, like—"

"Yeah, I see. I got it," he says, clearly too embarrassed for Bodie to elaborate, which makes me feel like Darius probably has a good idea of what his speed limit is already.

He picks up his phone again. He shoots off a snap. He looks at us. "Good talk. Thanks. Can it please be over now?"

"Okay," I laugh at him, lunging at him for a hug. He dodges off the bed but Bodie blocks his way, rockstar-handling him toward me. "Hug your mother, she's the only one you will ever have."

He tolerantly stands still while I give him a brief hug. He pats me on the back once. Then he dives back into the bunk, rolling away from us with his phone.

When we make our way back to the group, Leed and Kat are giggling and fumbling over something on the tiny galley counter. As we sit, Leed turns triumphantly with a red solo cup stuck on top of an inverted plastic champagne glass, apparently stuck together with chewing gum. Kat has used a sharpie to fill in a bold #1 on the red cup.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of SCIC," he says, "The votes have been tallied and the result for Best Soundcrush Parents is in..." Kat hands him a folded paper. "The winner for Best Parents is..." he dramatically unfolds the blank sheet. "By unanimous agreement...Barley!!!!" he beams and claps excessively.

Trace strums us a triumphant music cue, Adam whistles and Ashlynn and Mac cheer as Kat jerks us to our feet, snatches the homemade "trophy" from Leed and presents it to me with air kisses. Bodie rips it out of my hands, and says,

"I'd like to thank the distinguished members of SCIC, my mama for giving me safe sex lectures I completely fucking forgot, and the girl who made parenting possible for me- Jasmine, your sweet first time lovin' was far better than a cherry poppin' party. Last but not least..." Bodie lifts his voice completely unnecessarily because Darius can already hear every word we say, "my son Darius who has to put up with a lot of crazy shit from Soundcrush—"

"You got that right!" he yells from the back of the bus.

I take the trophy from Bodie, feigning a look up to the cheap seats, "I'd just like to say, to any single mom out there, struggling to reunite with her rich and famous Babydaddy...don't give up. If you got knocked up by a rock star, you too make your dreams come true, if you just... never stop! Never stop stalking him, never stop confronting him until he recognizes you again, never stop nagging him into sobriety—"

Bodie sweeps me off my feet, arresting my acceptance speech with a surprisingly hot kiss. Everyone laughs and Kat snaps pictures.

As we settle back into our bus ride, I snuggle against Bodie's chest. I need to call Andy to check on the soundcheck readiness, because they should be nearly finished.

There are two identical sets of stage structure and light rigging from the logistics company, and those two crews leap frog behind and ahead of us because it takes more than one day to build our stage and lights.Boss Hawkins already let me know the build and rigging went off without a hitch, complete this morning.  Both Skid Marcs and Soundcrush's  back line crew—in charge of instrument-- rides through the night and sleeps on their buses so roll in after the riggers are done and set the equipment before soundcheck.

I also need to confirm talent arrival with the venue manager and make sure the green room riders are fulfilled and the caterers are ready to feed the crew, but I just want a few more minutes of this. Of family time.

Life has never been better.

Bodie shifts as he pulls his phone from his pocket. I notice the caller is identified as blocked. I expect him to ignore but he answers it.

"Who is this?" he says.

He listens. And listens. Eventually he says. "Yeah, I can do that." He reaches for the sharpie and scribbles a phone number on the trophy. "I'll call you back after the show," he says, like it's family or someone in SCIC.

When he hangs up, no one asks who it was, probably because of his completely casual demeanor. But my stomach is in knots until about five minutes later when Bodie rubs his own stomach casually and says, "Jasmine, can you have one of the runners bring my kit from the hotel? I forgot to take my methadone this morning."

None of what he just said is what he meant. It's a predetermined signal between us. Rubbing his stomach and asking for his kit is asking for his go-bag with burner phones and enough clothes for a round trip to Thailand. Using the codeword methadone in this context is his way of letting me know—the huge first shipment of heroin that he is supposed to mule from Thailand is finally grown, processed, packaged and ready.

"Sure," I say nonchalantly, texting Garvy, one of the runners already at the hotel, swho is making sure everyone's luggage is where it should be, since we are going straight to the venue. He'll run the kit over, but no on will know it's because Bodie will be catching a private jet immediately after the show. As soon as I get to the venue, I will step away and charter it for him.

Later, maybe before or maybe after the show, I'm not sure, there will be false calls to and from Avery Thompson and Arabella, fake cursing and exasperated explanations for Bodie's necessary and emergency trip to the "Phillipines."

It won't be until then that I will be able to contact the list of studio drummers Bodie has prepared for me to appeal to in case of this emergency. It won't be until then that I can let any of the stress show. Though the pretense for it will be completely false, the stress will be intensely real.

Bodie rubs my back, offering me silent consolation. We both knew this was coming, as much as we have tried our best to ignore the reality.

Bodie is about to be become a bad guy among very bad guys. He's about to willingly take place in deals and crimes that will result in many lives ruined and maybe lives lost. He's about to risk his life, becoming a narc. And not even a testimony exchange deal and a federal pardon—if we are that lucky—will erase the weight of the crimes from his conscious.

This man is leveraging his life against my freedom, and all my protests, all my arguments fall on deaf ears. He simply says, "It's already done, Jaz. All that's left is to finish it."

I wrap my arms around him tight. I murmur in his ear where no one can hear."I love you. Ride-or-die."

He kisses my temple. "No dying. Just riding. Forever. Just like today. I fucking swear."

It's a promise he will try his best to keep, but a promise he shouldn't make, because we both know he can't.