Rob felt Jane as she wrapped around him. The quickness of her forgiveness caught Rob off-guard. He had somehow expected more silence from her, or at least something less empathetic. He tried to accept the fact that she wanted to mend the bridge, even after a voice inside his head told him that this day may come back to haunt him. “Sure,” Rob said, “let’s go.” [i]”The shower’s bigger here.”[/i] Her lips on his ears shot electricity through his body, and the two retired shortly afterwards. They may had been upset emotionally, but physically, nothing had changed. … On the ride to the party, Rob made a conscious effort to sit near Sam. He tried reading his bandmate for something close to a reaction, but could sense nothing. It was little more than a day ago that the ridge between the band members had been mended over over a cover and some riffs. Now, things felt more at odds than they had since Rob’s meltdown a week or so ago. Rob slid over to Sam, and jokingly placed a hand on his thigh. Rob could only hope Jane could take this as a joke. “I could make it up to you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it as much as Jane did.” Sam’s face froze for just a moment, before a switch seemed to snap in his head. He shoved Rob off violently, laughing as he did so. “Fuck off!” He said, seeming to try his best not to laugh. Rob sat himself up, looking to Jane. He tried to give her his best pair of please-don’t-kill-me eyes before looking back to Sam. “I’m just offering man,” Rob said faux-sheepishly. “If you wanted to.” Austin was next to crack up into a roaring laugh. “Jesus Christ, are we all going to start fucking each other? Two’s enough!” Sam and Rob shared a good laugh at Austin’s reaction, before the van returned to quiet. It was a pretty crude joke, but if was effective. The four of them hadn’t really spoken about the interview, or even Rob and Jane’s relationship, and throwing it out there like that, so suddenly, felt good. By the time they arrived at the party, the four of them were casually talking once more, seemingly back on at least alright terms. At the party, Rob was quickly approached by Zoe and Trent. Before he could say much, Jane slipped away, and the three of them stood huddled together against the crowd of the room. “So,” Trent said, watching Jane as she left. “…you fucked.” Rob felt blood rush to his face, but tried his best to brush it off. “You didn’t really listen to the interview, did you?” Trent cracked up soon after, giving Rob a slap on the shoulder. “Relax, dude,” he said. He pointed to a hallway nearby. “We’ve got a spot away from this, if you want to get away.” Rob scanned the crowd, but Jane was already long gone. “Sure.” … The closed room felt so much better than the crowded living room. Typically at these sorts of events, the closed off rooms were usually reserved for people of interest, or other VIPs that tended to arrived. But, after being inside, hanging out with Vicarious, he realized that it was actually them that were the valued guests. Outside in the living room were most likely fans; people who had been to the event, and were hoping to catch wind of some of their favorite bands. In here were the actual band members; free from the noise and volume outside and able to just relax after a set. It was still so strange to be on the other side of the fame—the topic of interviews, the person people seemed to be interested in. He had, from the very start, wanted nothing more than anonymity on the tour. But now, after experiencing the limelight for the first time, he was a bit enthralled by it. Hanging out with other band members, doing what he wanted. On the bed, Rob, Zoe, and Trent all sat, along with roadie David and one of their march guys. On the couch beside it, there were two other guys from another touring band, and the two women each had claimed for the night. And while Rob and the Vicarious guys sat around passing the hookah, the four on the couch passed a plate, razorblades, and the first cocaine Rob had seen since his time with Mia in New York. “I still feel bad about it,” Rob tossed out. He was gotten considerably high; the point where he had begun to confess certain things. Trent, seemingly immune to any signs of the hemp within him, turned to the two members of the other band. “Look,” he said to Rob, then looked back to the couch. “You all heard the In Bloom interview today, right?” “All over my newsfeed,” one of the women said, laughing as a band member pushed his head on her neck. “Wait…that’s him?” The woman cast a finger to Rob, who nodded. “Yeah.” “Dude, I wish a guy would stand up for [i]me[/i] like that.” She said. “That Jane’s lucky to have you.” Rob gave a curt smile, but said no more. Zoe must have noticed his silence, because she placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently pushed. “You’ve got more than enough time on the road to worry about it,” she said. “Enjoy yourself.” She gave him a quizzical look, before: “You want to step outside a minute?” … On the front porch, a few of the more drunken friends and fans had milled about, hands across their stomachs, waiting to leave whatever they had drank and ate on the hillside. Zoe and Rob had found two chairs, and sat together, looking out to the dark night. “Here,” Zoe said after a minute, showing Rob her phone. “This just showed up on my feed.” On the small screen, Rob read the title of some Facebook clickbait article: [u]In Bloom’s Drummer Just Snapped On A Podcast, and We’re Still Trying To Figure Out If He’s Right.[/u] “What I can figure out is why anyone reads that shit,” Rob laughed, but Zoe’s face remained locked in a neutral gaze. “Because they like you, man,” she said. She scrolled through her phone to another article. “Here’s one that came out on me a few months ago.” She showed him another: [u]Zoe Davidson is Gay?! Bassist Lives Vicarious Life of A Straight Woman On Stage.[/u] “To their credit,” Rob started, “they at least turned the band title into a double entendre.” Zoe smiled weakly. “I keep my hair over my face in every show. I stay out of the light in most parties, and I hadn’t even been with anyone on that tour. It’s funny, actually. Do crazy shit and you’re labeled a slut. Stay out of the limelight, now you’re a lesbian.” “I only wanted to be anonymous,” Rob said. “During all of this. And now I just want them to stop publishing shit about us.” “Don’t worry,” Zoe came. She angled herself towards Rob. “Some new band’ll come out soon. They’ll have the lead singer with a face tattoo, or the chick drummer. They’ll be the talk of the news, and no one will care about what happened today. We had our big moment earlier this year, then Vulture came out. Now…it’s you.” Somehow, each time Zoe talked or explained herself, Rob felt so much better. Maybe it was the circumstances, or the way she talked, but regardless; he was glad this moment was shared. … After another few minutes, Rob and Zoe returned to the room, only to find the other two band members and their women had disappeared—leaving a dusty pile of blow on the couch. They reconvened with Trent and David, and each talked about different things, before the door opened again. Jane slipped in, looking somewhat sheepish for the first time in a while. She waved a hand to the others in what already felt like resignation. Hoping to atone for past mistakes, Rob pushed himself off the couch and took Jane’s arms, pulling her to the bed to sit with him. “You assholes going to introduce yourselves?” Rob joked to Trent and David, who both seemed to high to initially register it, before then introducing themselves. Rob pulled the hookah close to him and Jane and handed her the mouthpiece. “He’s the one to thank for the weed,” Rob said, pointing to Trent, then looking to David. “And he—well, I don’t really know what he does. Freeload or something.” Trent and David seemed to be warming up just fine to Jane, but once Rob looked to Zoe, he saw she seem to crawl back into her shell; the fleeting moment of openness he had with her on the porch was already gone. He could only hope Jane would like these new friends of his, because he certainly liked them.