CHAPTER FIVE
TRAVIS

Barry smashes the horn playfully announcing our arrival to the rest of the Amaryllis crew as we roll into the bus lot set up at the back of the venue. The fence surrounding it is thick black chain link with each bus parked in a line, creating a barrier between the camp and the outside world. The doors all face to the inside of the camp, so all anyone on the other side of the fence will see is our unmarked black tinted tour busses.

I yawn and stretch, trying to find the will to get up off the sofa I had passed out on. “I guess that means it’s time to get after it, huh?”

“You got that right,” he says, popping his ball cap on his head and hopping out of the cabin. “I need to stretch my legs,” he yells back through the still open door.

Devon is already swiping messages to his team. “I’m out. It’s time to go over the details with the venue’s security and then brief my team. I’ll meet you backstage before the show just like always.”

I nod and wave my hand toward the door. “Yep. I’m heading out, too. Before we left, I promised the fans I’d give them a behind the scenes when we got here.”

Adair snores from the top bunk.

“And I also need to wake his ass up,” I groan.

Devon laughs as he heads toward the bus door. “Have fun with that. Maybe he can convince Carly to let him back in after the show tonight.”

They usually work it out pretty fast, but I have a feeling he’s going to need to grow up pretty soon if he wants to keep her around. “Hey,” I mumble, poking him in the side. “Get up.”

Snore.

“Loser.” I shake him by the shoulder, trying to wake him up. “We’re here.”

“Go away.” He rolls over and acts like he’s pulling a blanket over his head, except he’s lying on top of them.

“Whatever.” The speaker perched on the mini nightstand right by his head catches my eye, so I pair my phone to it and put on the loudest guitar solo I can find. When the first notes ring out, he sits straight up and hits his head on the ceiling. The impact knocks him off-balance and causes him to roll right off the edge of the bunk. He hits the bus floor with a thwap! The sound makes me double over laughing because it reminds me of a cartoon character getting smacked on the head with an anvil. Adair’s face right now is a pretty solid version of that look. I can almost see the stars floating around his head.

He groans and pushes himself up off the floor and onto his feet. “What the hell, dude?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.

I shrug. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Right.” He looks like he might be fighting back the urge to punch me in the face, so I take this opportunity to bolt out of the door and scoot across the lot before he changes his mind and tries to get even with me. 

Griffin and London are standing outside their bus letting Carter ride his bicycle around the camp’s perimeter.

“Whoa!” Carter squeals, yanking on the handlebars to avoid hitting me.

“Hey.” I wave at Carter as he pedals past me. “You’re doing good, bud.” As I’m tugging my phone out of my pocket, I motion for Griffin and London to meet me half-way. “I promised to give the fans a backstage pass when we got to the first stop. Do you mind being the first to say hi?” I ask them both at the same time.

London smiles and nods to a cooing baby Ava who is playing with a pacifier while lying back in her mama’s arms. “Try not to get Carter or her in the shot, okay?”

I nod, completely aware of why they would want to keep their kids’ faces out of the camera view. “No problem.” The light on my phone blinks, letting me know the live video has started. “Hey! I promised to give you a look behind the scenes when we got to the first stop. We’re here!” I flip the camera view to get Griffin and London in the shot. They both wave. “Hi,” they echo each other. “We’re excited to get back up there and see all of you,” Griffin adds. London shows her agreement by using both of her hands to make a heart for the viewers.

“What do you think the time off has done for your voice?” I ask Griffin.

He scowls at me and curls his lip up in a sneer. “Since when are you a reporter?”

I shrug. “Now, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes as London tries to fight back a laugh. “I’ve been working with my voice every day since the lockdowns. It’s stronger than ever and ready to pin you all to the wall when the music starts.”

“That checks out.” I nod into the camera. “He’s been working on it every day. Kind of annoying when I’m trying to edit audio in the next studio and he’s not practicing inside the soundproof booth,” I whisper to the camera like Griffin can’t hear every word I’m saying.

“You should probably move on to the next person on your list to annoy before the show,” Griffin growls.

“Fine.” I scan the lot until my eyes find our production manager. “After Ridge left for… reasons.” I grimace into the camera to play up the drama because drama gets clicks and reactions, and that’s what we need to get the word out that we’re back on the road. “We thought we’d never find anyone who could set a show like he did, but we got lucky with Maddox. This dude…” I sling one arm around his shoulders and let the camera get a close-up view, but the angle is off, and it ends up giving the viewers a shot straight up his nose. “Sorry.” I chuckle as I try to fix the angle. “There we go.”

“Travis,” he groans. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Showing the fans what it takes to bring the show to them.” I shrug with both arms outstretched, which I realize is skewing the camera view again. “I never promised you I was good at this.” I point at the camera like I’m talking directly to the fans on the other side. “This is Maddox and without him we’d all die on stage.”

He scoffs. “Travis is being super dramatic. Without me, there would be no pyro so there’d be a very minimal risk to their actual lives.”

“Okay, so without Maddox we’d bring you boring shows, that you wished would just end, instead of the kick-ass show you’re going to see tonight, Dallas!” I make my way around the back of the stage area where the crew is till laying out all the materials that will eventually let us take over this open-air venue. “Say hi, everyone!” I yell over the sounds of them barking instructions back and forth as they’re working.

One by one they each look up and wave to the camera.

“If you all see any of these faces tonight while you’re at the show,” I say into the camera, “give them a high-five and a thank you for all the hard work they put into this.” Carly’s standing by the screen area and hooking up her digital equipment to splice the video feed into bite sized social media portions that will auto share to all our platforms once the show starts. “Carly!”

“If this is about your brother,” she grumbles without even turning around. “You can tell him—”

“Whoa!” A nervous chuckle squeaks out. “It’s just a backstage tour before the show,” I explain as she turns around. She’s wearing her hair purple and twisted up into a knot held in place by a stylus. I can’t see her eyes because she’s wearing her rose gold and heavily tinted sunglasses, but the way her lips are pursed together is warning enough that I might be in danger. “I promised the fans a glimpse.”

She nods and swings her arm out wide toward the walls of the stage, which are going up right now. “Amaryllis is here, y’all!” she says going into public-eye mode almost instantly. The metallic clangs of the pieces fitting together echo in the air and I can only imagine how that must sound through the live feed. “Sorry.” I cringe. “That’s just the sounds of magic happening,” I explain. “It takes a couple hundred people to get us up there on the stage, so while you’re rocking out tonight remember to send some love to the people who support us. It’s about time for us to start our pre-show rituals, so I’m going to sign off and hope to see you all out here tonight. Much love.” I tap the button to end the feed and stuff the phone back in my pocket. “What’d he do this time?” I ask Carly, who’s gone back to setting up for the show.

“Nothing, honestly. I think it’s me.”

“I assure you, if it’s anyone, it’s Adair.”

She shakes her head and lets out a defeated sigh. “I’ve always known he didn’t want kids. I didn’t either until… recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with changing and growing, Carly,” I try to reassure her.

She wipes a stray tear from her cheek. “Unless the changes are things you and your partner already agreed on, then that isn’t fair to the other person. I’m not being fair to Adair, and I know it, but I can’t help it.”

“Give him time,” I say, giving her a brotherly hug. “He’ll come around. He always does.”

She sniffs and wipes her nose on my sleeve.

“Gross.”

“Sorry,” she chuckles. “It was there.”

Ew. “Are you okay?” I ask. She’s always emotional, but it’s more the fierce I’m going to handle shit no matter who tries to stand in my way kind of emotional. This is a softer side to her I haven’t seen before. It’s scaring me a little…

She nods and turns back around to study the feeds rolling across her screens. “I’m good. Thank you, Travis.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m here if you need—”

She holds a hand up to shut me up. “I’m good.”

Got it. Nash and Devon are talking amongst themselves as they come around the side of the stage, which is now a complete structure. Our crew works fast. Nash’s eyebrows are arched way down, which usually means someone is about to get throttled.

“What’s going on, guys?”

Devon’s expression is more serious than I’ve seen him in… ever. “My team patrolled social media while I was getting the intel from the venue staff security and there’s a lot of talk about breaking loose tonight. I wouldn’t normally put too much weight into that kind of talk, but man…” he sighs. “The lockdowns had these people cooped up for over a year and a half. There’s a lot of energy bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s going to be difficult for them to keep it at safe levels when this is likely to be their first real event in a long ass time.”

Hmm.

“We’ve always stopped the shows when a fight broke out, or fans were about to get trampled,” Nash reminds Devon.

“He’s right,” I add. “Our fans know we don’t put up with that shit.”

He nods. “All it takes is one bad seed.”

“Fair.” I stuff my hands in my pockets. “What do you suggest we do for precautions?”

He shrugs and shakes his head. “My team will do everything we can for our part. They’re going to be on the lookout and highly visible just before the lights go down, so the crowd will know to keep it light and fun.”

“That sounds like all we can do and then we just have to hope for the best.” Nash pats Devon on the back of the shoulder. “I have complete confidence in you,” he adds as he heads toward where the workout area is set up. We all have our own routines for getting our energy levels ramped up before a show. I follow him, because I don’t want to be late for the first step in our pre-show rituals.

“Don’t worry, Devon. You’ve got this,” I call from over my shoulder.

Griffin and Adair have already entered beast mode when I get to the workout room. “You’re late,” Adair grumbles.

“And you’re gross and drenched in sweat,” I say through a fake gag. “I had some…” I search my mind for a word that sounds important enough to get him off my ass about being late. “I had some fan outreach tasks to handle.”

“Fan outreach?” he snorts as he launches another attack on the punching bag in the corner. “That sounds…” he pauses to take a few deep breaths, “like code for Travis was screwing around if you ask me.”

I pull up the Amaryllis account and tap the profile image, so the video plays. “See?”

“It’s true.” Griffin defends me to Adair. “He made both of us go on camera to say hi.”

Adair grumbles and goes back to hitting the bag as Nash puts in his wireless earbuds and taps the button to start his playlist, just like he does every time before a show.

“You’re so predictable,” I tease.

“I have a routine,” he says, as he falls into a squat position then goes into a full burpee.

I shake my head. “No, dude. You’re superstitious.”

“Call it superstition, or luck, or just routine, but it works, and I don’t want to fuck up the flow,” he says before dropping into another round of burpees. A high intensity workout gets my energy up, but it’s not what puts me in the headspace I need so I can do my job from the stage. “You all have fun with that. I’m going for my massage.” We bring in a local masseuse every time we have a show and then I sponsor them on my social media. It’s a win/win for them and for me.

“You’re the only guy I know who needs a massage before a show,” Adair scoffs.

I make my hand into a shadow puppet of a talking head on the wall. “Womp, womp. You’re just jealous.”

“Not even a little,” he barks back as I make my way into the massage room. There’s an older woman standing in the back corner of the room who looks like she could be my grandma. “Hi, there. I was just… uh…” I wave my hand in front of me like the motion will magically make my words come out right. “Isn’t this the massage room?” I ask, leaning back to check the label on the temporary door.

“You’re in the right place,” she says, with her voice cracking on each vowel. “Get yourself on the table and I’ll handle the rest.”

I asked for an upper body deep tissue massage. I always ask for a deep tissue massage. This poor woman doesn’t look like she would have the strength to do a deep tissue massage on a baby doll. “Uh, I don’t mean to—”

“Then don’t. Get on the table like I told you, son.”

I nod and climb onto the massage table; glad I wore my gym shorts under my pants today instead of something less conservative with grandma in the room. A pair of wrinkled hands grab onto my muscles, causing me to flinch from the cold skin against mine. “Are you ready?” she asks in an almost apologetic tone.

No. I don’t think I am.

Just as I’m about to protest, the little older woman adds pressure to both sides of my back, smashing my face into the opening on the table. I can feel the skin on my face catching against the soft material of the table. It’s pulling my cheeks and my nose and my eyes… I can only imagine what it would look like if someone was on the other side. Just as I think this cannot get any worse, her face pops up just underneath mine as she peeks at me under the table. “Doing okay there, sonny? You didn’t think little ol’ grandma could handle it, did you?”

“Doing fine, ma’am,” I somehow manage to squeak out. “Thank you, ma’am.”

I’m terrified.

Help!

---

I’m still trying to work out the kinks in my muscles after the assault from the silver-haired assassin. I’m rolling my shoulder in the air when Adair walks up and smacks it, making me screech in pain. “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks with a very confused and startled look on his face.

Ugh. “Don’t ask.”

“Fine, but it’s time to handle the press.”

Sigh. “Where?”

He shrugs and nods his head toward the makeshift interview area set up just outside of the VIP meet and greet room. “Over there, I guess.”

“They’re already lining up like vultures,” I groan, and drag my hand down my face. “This is the only part of the gig I hate.”

“I know, dude.” He pats me on the shoulder in a weird attempt to be compassionate, which is not on-brand for him at all. “But once we get this over with, then we can go on stage and do what we came here to do.”

I make the rock horns and stick my tongue out, making sure the slew of cameras lined up in front of us can each get a clear shot of it. “Let’s do this!”

There’s a familiar face standing further back in the line. I can’t place where I know her from, but I know her. “Psst.” I jab Adair in the side just as he goes to shake hands with one of the most obnoxious reporters we’ve had to deal with on tour. “Richards… You had the nerve to come back?”

Adair scowls at me with a confused look on his face. “Wait. That’s this guy?”

“Oh.” I nod my head in a completely over-exaggerated way. “That’s the guy.”

He grabs him by the collar and pulls him forward so that he’s looking him straight in the eye, with his feet dangling a few inches from the floor. “You stay away from my family, especially my wife. Do you hear me?”

Alan, slime ball, Richards wiggles and writhes trying to get free, but the more he struggles, the tighter Adair’s grip on his collar becomes. Finally, he stops fighting and just nods his head. “You got it.”

Adair releases his grip and lets Richards drop to his feet, causing him to stumble backwards as the other members of the press separate like they’re parting the waters of the Red Sea or something. He thumps into the wall behind him. “Don’t you dare show your face back here, again,” Adair growls, pointing a finger at him.

“No problem,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands down his shirt in a pathetic attempt to straighten out the wrinkles left behind after Adair’s assault.

I lean in so only my brother can hear me. “You know he’s going to sue your dumb ass, right?”

He snorts and snarls but doesn’t have anything to say in his own defense.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Do you know who the girl is over there?” I ask him while pointing in what I think is a very nonchalant way to the woman who caught my eye a few seconds earlier. “She’s been milling around here.”

He shrugs. “Press?”

Her eyes are far too innocent to be one of those blood suckers. “She doesn’t have a press badge around her neck.”

“Fan leftover from the meet and greet with the supporting acts?”

Nah. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Can we just get our job done so we can get on stage? You’ve been screwing around for long enough today.”

“Excuse me! I was handling the social media engagements Carly had Mira assign to me for pre-show buzz.” I drag out the Zs so it sounds like a bee buzzing. It irritates the hell out of him when I do that. He says it’s like nails on a chalkboard, so I never miss an opportunity.

“All right.” Adair holds his hands up in the air and signals for the cameras to stop. “I know you all are going to make sure that what just happened here is front page news tomorrow, so here’s the story. You all get it at once, so the first one back to the office wins. That’s how it works, right?”

I shove my elbow into his ribs. “Ease up, dude.”

The lights from the cameras all flash at once causing a single blob of bright whitish-yellow light to fill my vision. “Come on, guys. Don’t do that shit.” I rub my eyes while groaning from the headache lurking in the background. I’m relatively sure it’s going to take over after the light show in my vision settles down.

Adair sighs and rolls his eyes at me, while I’m still fighting to see anything out of my left eye. “That guy is the same one who misreported on the events surrounding Stone’s departure from Amaryllis and discredited the assault. You all know by now, it wasn’t because he wanted to take on more responsibility with the band, it was because he wasn’t able to live up to the Amaryllis code while we were on the road. He wasn’t living up to it at all. He got kicked from the band after missing shows, causing damage to venues and hotels who had hosted us for our shows in their cities, and assaulting numerous members of the Amaryllis family—including my wife, and sister-in-law. There’s no secret there. It’s all in the public records. Go look it up. Have fun. That’s all we’ve got for you today. Enjoy the show.” He turns to walk away and grabs my arm to lead me back since I can’t see shit.

“Hey, I wanted to go talk to her.”

“Dude,” he grumbles, and tugs on my arm harder. “Not the time. How are you going to flirt with a girl when you can’t even see her?”

“It’s getting better!” I say, sulking and still rubbing my eyes. They’ve moved from full light flashes to just a few silver floaters, but they’re still super annoying. When I turn back to catch one more glimpse of her, hoping to remember where I know her from, she’s gone.

Damn it.

Griffin makes his way to where we’re now waiting and leaning against the fencing at side-stage, it’s covered in black material to hide everything that goes on behind the scenes from the audience. There’s something about keeping those things hidden that makes it feel a little more like magic when the show starts. That’s also why I wanted to do the live feed to make sure everyone who works their asses off for our shows gets the proper recognition and credit. “The band who just wrapped sure got the audience hyped,” Griffin says, as we’re waiting for our cue to hit the stage. “They’ve got an insane amount of energy.”

Nash nods his head as he picks his guitar from the rack stationed by the steps leading to the stage. “We should send our talent acquisitions specialist to talk to them.”

“You’re right,” Adair nods, keeping his eyes on Carly who is clearly refusing to acknowledge his existence right now. She’s focused on the screens and even though she knows he’s back here, she’s not turning around. “Carly,” he finally gives up and calls her name.

Nothing.

Nash pats him on the back and chuckles. “Maybe you should stop being so hard to live with, dude.”

Adair shrugs Nash’s arm off his shoulders and lets out a long-exasperated sigh. “I keep hearing that.”

“There might be some truth to it,” Carly’s voice says from behind where Adair is standing, but his body is blocking her from view. She’s smiling when he turns around and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, tonight. We still have to talk after the show.”

He nods and looks like she lifted a weight off his shoulders.

“Alright, Amaryllis, it’s time.” Nash cups his hands around his mouth and lets out a screeching whistle that signals the crew it’s time to get in the circle. We wait a few seconds as our team comes out from their stations and joins hands in the center, between Nash’s, just like every other show we’ve played. The process has always been the same, we’ve just added more and more hands to the pile as the years have gone on. “We’re lucky to be here tonight. Each of us has fought through a lot of drama, heartache, and pain along the way; but we’re here. We couldn’t be here if it weren’t for all of you.” His eyes shift from one face in the circle to the next. “Thank you for being part of our team and thank you for being willing to come out tonight. The people out there,” he motions toward the audience on the other side of the curtain, “they’re trusting us to bring them the best show they’ll ever see. Let’s deliver. Show them what it means to be…”

“Amaryllis!” everyone says in unison.

The energy is intense. Devon might’ve been right about the vibe for tonight after spending so long in lockdowns and quarantines, these people are ready to cut loose. It’s going to be a good show with this type of hype in the air tonight, but it also feels like something could snap at any minute. The lights go out and that’s my cue. I run up the stairs and take my spot behind my drum set with one arm stretched straight out in front of me, pointing at the audience. I take my seat on the drum throne, the audience starts to cheer as I kick out a solid beat. I fill out the drumbeat as London and Adair come on stage. The lights over both of their heads come on as Adair’s first bass line echoes through the speakers. The crowd cheers louder as Nash’s first chord rings out through the open-air arena. He takes the steps two at a time on the side of the stage and takes his spot just as the light goes on above his head. Cheers and Hell yeah echoes back from the audience.

We launch into the intro of our biggest hit as Griffin makes his way to the microphone, being careful to stay out of the range of the lights that’ve already come on overhead. He takes the microphone in his hand as the rest of the lights come on and we transition into the first verse. The audience immediately sings along, and as they all jump with the beat of the music, it looks like a wave of bodies in front of us filling the general admission area.

It’s an incredible sight after so long.

I’ve missed this more than I realized.

The crowd roars as we wrap the first song and we go into the transition for song two, which is the first single from our own label and the one that’s currently dominating all the major rock music charts. It’s also the first song we’ve released where Nash carries a decent amount of the vocals. He belts it out for the crowd and lets his voice soar even higher than it did on the record. It’s impressive. He and Griffin found a rhythm in the way they share the vocals that gives our songs a new depth. The fans seem to love it on the radio and… Now we know they love it in person, too.

It’s making me push myself harder behind this set to make sure the beat hits harder and the rhythm comes through stronger.

It’s working.

Adair is on his mark and even improvising. Nash is ad-libbing and Griffin is working the crowd more than I’ve ever seen him do before. London’s fingers are flying across the keys. I knew the first show back would be an incredible experience, but I never expected something as surreal as this. The song wraps up, with the crowd still cheering.

Just as I’m about to kick off into the next song, I catch a glimpse of a couple guys in the pit who are pushing each other and look like they’re hungry for trouble. I glance over to make sure Devon saw it while Griffin is working the crowd. Devon’s talking to one of his crew, who looks like he’s giving him a report. He’s not seeing the action in the pit, but it looks like they’ve worked it out because now they’re both just standing there waiting for the next song to start, just like the rest of the crowd.

I shrug it off and count us into the next song.