[i]Fuck.[/i] As soon as the door had shut behind Jane, Rob knew. In his rush to confront the emotions he was feeling and hastily talking to Jane without realizing the weight of his words, he had irrevocably altered the state of the relationship. His mind could endlessly play out a thousand ways of the thousands of words he could have said, but it didn’t matter anymore. Jane left. … Several hours later, Rob found himself back in the hideout Trent and Zoe had found the night before. But it was daytime, and the footfalls of other park patrons echoed within the empty walls as they passed nearby. It was some time before Zoe slipped into the hideout, sitting opposite Rob. She took in a deep breath, and the two didn’t say much at first. “I’m guessing it’s about—“ Zoe started, before Rob could feel her eyes lock onto his. He knew they were probably a deep, bloodshot red at this point. Died salt itched at his sinuses, giving the air a nasty smell. “That bad?’ Rob nodded. He felt much more stable than he had the past few hours; the nicotine and alcohol had helped, and it was aways better with a buzz. “This one’s on me,” he said. He felt his legs slipping closer to his chest. “I know she was worried. She talks to Andy some. I’m sure he’s talked about he and you hanging out a lot. And after the fight and she got sick…I thought I was hurting her by doing all this to get away. So I asked if we could be casual.” “Oh, no,” Zoe said, her soft voice giving off just a slight bit of rasp as she said it. “You didn’t…” “I did,” Rob said. He nodded to himself to give him the reassurance that it had actually happened. “For me I thought I was sparing her while I figured me out. She probably thought I was asking for a license to fuck.” “And you didn’t tell her any of that, I’m assuming?” Zoe asked. “What do I say?” Rob said. His voice raised slightly in defense. “Look, at this point in my life, I don’t know how to justify any of the shit I feel. I haven’t had a serious relationship in years, and even that was basically casual sex. Maybe I gave off the impression that I wanted something serious at some point in my life. Jane thought it, surely. She even told me. But she could’ve been a fucking nun this whole tour and I doubt the outcome would’ve been the same. I doubt I would’ve been here with you. Because I don’t know what I want and I end up fucking it up for other people. I fucked up the band when I was trying to tell her and I’m fucking it up now.” Zoe sat silent, letting Rob ramble on. “She does so much shit for me, you know that? Like, she does everything in her power to make sure I’m happy and I just run off. Then I ask to tone it down. And [i]then[/i], I’m fucking narcissistic enough to think [i]I[/i] am the one that’s doing [i]her[/i] the favor! Why can’t I just be who she thinks I am, you know? She thinks I deserve someone constant. That she’s the crazy one.” Zoe sat up, brushing some black strands of hair from her face. “Look,” she started, “I’m not the biggest Jane fan. You know that. Personally, it pisses me off that she gets up that and goes all ‘female-empowerment’ on everyone when her whole image is based off of the novelty of a promiscuous rocker woman. And I get it, she probably didn’t design her image, but that’s besides the point. I sit behind the bass and I play music, and if people care that I’m a woman, great. But I won’t flaunt it and take advantage of the fact that people give a shit about that sort of thing now.” She sighed. “That being said, for all your thoughts and feelings, or whatever, you sure do the minimum amount of talking. And, I mean, shit, I’m sure you’ve told me more than she’s ever heard.” Rob’s silence proved her point. “Do you even want to hang out with Jane anymore?” Zoe asked. “Of course I do,” Rob said. “She’s my best friend. I just don’t know about this romance we’ve started. It’s made everything so fucking—“ Rob’s mouth stopped moving the moment Zoe’s lips crashed onto his. For a brief moment, Rob was frozen, stuck between receiving her kiss and pushing in deeper into it. But before he could make the choice, his head slipped back, and he opened his eyes, locking onto Zoe’s. Both of them were stuck just inches from each other’s face. Both breathed in heavily, coming to terms with what had happened. But Zoe’s face hardened first, and she sat back, leaning against the wall once more. “If you didn’t want to be with Jane,” Zoe said, “you would’ve fucked me by now.” As Rob tied together the pieces of information, Zoe slipped out of the hideout, traveling back to the path and far away, until her footsteps could be heard no more. But before she had gone back earshot, he heard her say: “You’re loyal. I’ll give you that much.” — By nightfall, Rob had been stationed in the hotel’s bar and drunk far past the limit. The hotel manager that had been so kind as to let him slip out the back had to come out and quietly tell him they could not serve him anymore. They did, however, offer a bottle of spirits in return for Rob’s cooperation, as they led him to his room. And as the door shut behind him, Rob was alone, massively drunk, and holding even more alcohol. The lights were off, and Rob barely set the bottle onto the counter, nearly missing it completely. Next, he slipped into the main bedroom, only to find Jane missing. [i]Odd,[/i] he thought to himself. His wasted mind could only think in sparse sentences. [i]It’s late. I wonder where she is.[/i] Rob slipped out into the bathroom, but couldn’t find her there. Next was the kitchen (he had already seen that. Why did he check again?) and the living room, before finally, the second bedroom. The handle clicked softly as Rob tried to turn it—denying him passage into the room. A wave of even more self-pity crashed over Rob—enough to send him wandering back to the kitchen and throwing up into the sink. His body shuddered as it looked to the contents of his stomach. It was nearly pure beer, it had seemed. Moving through his own haze, Rob slipped into the bedroom, fell onto the covers, and fell asleep in half a minute. — And he was quickly awoken by banging at the door. “Rob!” A muffled voice called out. “Jane!” Rob picked himself up, wiping dried vomit from his mouth from the night before, and walked to the door. [i]Shit,[/i] he thought to himself, [i]how many times did I throw up last night?[/i] He opened the door to find a very panicked Austin. “Dude, where have you—“ he started, before noticing just how bad Rob looked. [i]”Holy. Shit.”[/i] “What?” Rob asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so much like shit in my life, dude,” Austin said honestly. “What happened to your arm?” Rob looked down to see dried blood sprawled out randomly across his left forearm. Shrugging he looked back up to Austin. “I don’t know.” “Jane?” Austin asked. Rob shrugged. “I was going to say,” Austin tried to continue, “Where have you been? But you clearly don’t know. So I’ll figure it out later. But we were supposed to leave for Kansas City [i]yesterday[/i].” “What?” Rob asked. His incredulous voice showed Austin he was genuinely serious, but the more his mind tried to awaken from the straight poison that flowed through it the night before, the more he realized—they were supposed be in Kansas City. “Look,” Austin continued, “Sam and I got caught up with other things, too, so it’s not just you and Jane. But Harold is blowing his fucking top over this. He wanted to cancel tonight’s concert so we’d have more time to record. And, looking at you, man, we probably should.” Austin looked over Rob’s shoulder, seemingly for Jane, before: “Whatever. We’ll talk later. Just pack your shit and get into the van as soon as possible. We’re parked out back.” Rob nodded, closing the door on Austin and moving to the kitchen. He methodically cleaned his arm, and looked at the time as he did so: 7:07 A.M. Rolling his eyes, moved forward, and knocked twice on the door Jane lay behind. “Hey,” he called out. He tried to hide his slurred speech. “Apparently we were supposed to be in Kansas City yesterday. I’ll, uh, meet you at the van, then. It’s out back.” Rob froze for a moment in front of her door. “Sorry,” was all he managed to say, before throwing his things into a bag, leaving the room, and making it into the van as quick as he could. It all felt like a blur. A dry, emotionless blur. After the night he had before, all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t even talk to anyone when he got into the van; he simply slipped over to the back bench, only to find it occupied with two new amps. “I found a cool tone out of these in a shop downtown,” Sam started. “I wanted to use them for the new track, and I didn’t know if Kansas City would have them, so…” Sam droned on, far past Rob’s level of caring, so he tossed the pillow on the floor in front of the seat, sprawled out of the floor, and draped his blanket over himself. Kansas couldn’t come soon enough.