The air was thick with the stench of cigarettes and much more. The tables were covered in paraphilia, and Trent was hard at work grinding bud he had purchased the other day. The lights had been dimmed down to next to nothing, and the room glowed red from the tinted lamp in the corner. The air was alive with chatter and [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhPKbJTH_hk]Back Stabbin’ Betty by Cage The Elephant[/url] blared loudly over the speakers. Rob was standing next to a seated Trent, beer in hand and halfway through a long story with Vicarious crew members David and Michelle, with Zoe and Matt watching on, amused. It a week since Rob’s night alone with Jane, and things had only improved from here. Rob’s time with Jane had long since improved from earlier on the tour, and the two seemed to finally be aligned on the same frequency. The unspoken tension between himself and the rest of the In Bloom crew seemed to have also melted away, and his relationship with the Vicarious crew had grown exponentially. It seemed now nearly all of the time before a show, he spent in their tour bus, drinking and smoking, finally growing used to the lifestyle he had always been apprehensive about. Maybe it was the silent acceptance that life would always be so volatile, or simply the need for sedation from the brutal road, but Rob found himself more and more in the moment, less and less locked inside of his own head. And the feeling was great. His hands had finally healed over, and his playing had grown even more reliable in the meantime. And, his libido, shockingly enough, had grown significantly. And perhaps that was, in part, due to Zoe. Zoe and Rob, once initially moving forward from being intimate, ended up having sex several more times. In fact, it seemed nearly as often as his intimacy with Jane. Sam had earlier even joked about it, saying back on the bus once that “Rob gets laid more often than he eats.” So…things were going pretty well. Jane seemed a bit less inclined to hang around the group (as well as Andy, who was noticeably absent from the bus this evening), but Rob felt a more comfortable sense in knowing that the ill will between them had settled. Perhaps it had taken weeks, but Rob was finally, honestly pretty happy with the setup between himself and Jane. As well as the one between him and Zoe. As the rest of the crew gathered around Trent’s table to trade more stories, Rob felt Zoe’s arm brush up against him, pulling him towards the back of the bus. The look in her eyes were clear and direct, for what she wanted from him. He happily obliged, and finished the rest of his beer, before moving with her and closing the door behind them. “When’s your set?” Zoe asked. She moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her boots off. Rob followed suit, slipping his shirt off and moving towards the music controls for the bus, being sure to crank the volume a good deal louder. “A little under an hour,” he joked. “We’re gonna need something louder.” He looked for a moment on the iPod that had been hooked up, and found the sing he had desired: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ge6ttcFrvA]One-Armed Scissor by At The Drive-In[/url]. The familiar opening riff caused the now-buzzed Rob to nod softly to the beat for a moment, before turning and climbing onto he bed. [i]“Holy shit,”[/i] Zoe joked, allowing Rob to lower her down onto the bed. “I haven’t heard this in years.” “I used to blast this shit with Jane and the others,” Rob joked. “Back when I thought we could be a post-hardcore band.” “I don’t know what’s funnier to imagine,” Zoe shot back: “Jane screaming over hardcore riffs, or [i]you[/i] screaming over them.” “I don’t think you’d want to hear either,” Rob smiled, and pulled into her. And behind him, the lyrics roared: [i]Cut away! Cut away![/i] — Afterwards, Rob was backstage, having cleaned up since his time on the bus. He was adorned in a tight, thin grey hoodie, and his usual gym shorts. Funnily enough, he had ditched any form of footwear back on the bus, and stood barefoot as he watched the crowd through the curtains. Jane seemed to have rubbed off on him yet. “Jesus Christ, man,”Austin jokingly called out to him, approaching is his usual stage attire. “You don’t know what the hell’s on this stage floor.” “Jane wouldn’t mind,” Rob joked, looking down at his own bare feet. But Austin didn’t seemed too amused. “Who knows what Russian diseases are on these floors. We don’t need another Red Scare, man.” Rob laughed, “Fine. I’ll try not to be a total hippie next time for you.” “Good,” Austin said. “Got that sorted out. Now if only I could find a way to fuck as much as you so, I’d be set,” Rob punched Austin in the shoulder, light enough to let him know it was all in good taste. “Get your own sex life to critique,” he said. “There are lots of fine-looking women in the crowd tonight. Feel free to take your pick.” “That’s just not fair, man,” Austin said. “The musician getting with his fans? That’s just straight abuse of power.” “When has that ever stopped you?” Rob asked. Austin paused for a moment, then laughed. “See you on stage, man.” He turned and moved back behind stage, disappearing from Rob’s sight. Jane swung by quite soon after (surprisingly [i]not[/i] barefoot), and the two quickly pulled into an embrace. [i]”If it gets any colder on the bus at night, I’m moving into your bunk permanently.”[/i] “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to move,” he said with a smirk, and slipped a hand into her hair. After a crew member rudely shouted them onstage, he pulled back. “Showtime,” he muttered. — Rob played this portion of the show as well as he could without overdoing it. For the sake of his healing hands, he’d grown more and more technical with his playing, minimizing any moment that wasn’t necessary to play the notes. He was sure it wasn’t as fun to watch, but it was hard to act like you’re having the time of your life, when you have it six nights a week. After the show had ended, Rob took a towel from the nearest stage hand and pulled out his phone. He texted as he mindlessly helped pack up over the next half-hour: — [i]11:29PM, Zoe:[/i] [b]Want to come by after the show?[/b] [i]11:34 PM, Rob:[/i] [b]Think I’m going to take the night off. I don’t even know where we’re going next, I get so little sleep.[/b] [i]11:39 PM, Zoe:[/i] [b]Kiev.[/b] [i]11:47 PM, Rob:[/i] [b]I’m pretty sure that I failed World Geography in High School. Forgive me.[/b] [i]11:59, Zoe:[/i] [b]Well shit. Guess who just texted me.[/b] [i]12:05, Rob:[/i] [b]Jane?[/b] [i]12:07, Zoe:[/i] [b]Yeah. She wanted to meet up sometime. Says we started out wrong.[/b] [i]12:09, Rob:[/i] [b]Please do that.[/b] [i]12:12, Zoe:[/i] [b]I guess I probably should. I’ll ask her when she wanted to, I guess. But it’s not like you’re best friends with Andy, either.[/b] [i]12:15, Rob:[/i] [b]The guy looks like he’s constantly wanting to kill me.[/b] [i]12:18, Zoe:[/i] [b]You’re not half-wrong. Going to bed. Night.[/b] [i]12:19, Rob:[/i] [b]Night.[/b] — Rob rolled his eyes as he slipped the phone back into the pocket. While it was true that Zoe and Jane never really spoke, the same was equally true with Andy. A part of Rob figured that he was Jane’s go-to person when Rob was being unsavory, but the same could be argued about Zoe as well. Both of them were tied together to these two people—he’s sure both he and Jane probably said the wrong things at some point. Maybe that fueled it. He didn’t know. What was more ambiguous was Zoe’s relationship with Andy. The two seemed to talk when they could, but it was always nearly out of sight. And Zoe never spoke about Andy unless it absolutely had to come up. And when Rob brought it up, Zoe typically ended the conversation then and there. He was less concerned about whether or not the two were romantically involved, and more worried about what the two might talk about. Or it they talk about him and Jane. It was strange, but he tried not to worry about it. Jane had texted him as he had finished the last of the work as was moving to the bus, and Rob showered knowing she’d be waiting for him in the bunk. He crawled into bed soon after, pulling the joint from her hands and taking a drag. “That’s probably a fire hazard,” he said softly, finishing it off. The desire to sleep was strong, and stronger now that he was fully used to sleeping with Jane. Almost to the point where insomnia would kick in each night they occupied separate bunks. He gently lifted her from how she lay and pulled her in close, slipping his hand it it’s usual position. “We’ll have to switch instruments if you keep blowing your voice out,” he joked in a whisper. “You can have the blisters and I’ll have the shredded voice.” Rob’s eyes softly closed as he moved his head closer to Jane’s. “Wouldn’t that be something?” And moments later, Rob slowly fell asleep. — Rob found himself on the couch the next morning, having gotten up long before Jane, sometime around eight in the morning. The drive across Europe was taking longer than anticipated. Typically, he would be free to roam whatever city he was at, but he could only watch as the Russian landscape slowly subsided outside of his window. They had gone as east as possible, almost crossing into Asia. Now began the slow craw back westward. Towards home. The idea seemed like a strange one. That they had gone so far to the east, they had almost gone west. Here, halfway across the world, enjoying fame they were told more of rather than saw, sitting on enough income to record the next record in a nice, official studio. Absentmindedly, Rob pulled out his phone and moved back in the bus to the bunks. Each curtain had been drawn, so taking the opportunity, Rob took a quick selfie with the closed bunks in view, and promptly it on his Instagram with the caption: [i]@Rob.Pennie Moscow, you were great! The rest of the crew is still recovering, but we’ll be in Kiev tonight, rested and ready. Come on out if you’re in the area.[/i] While it felt disingenuous, the new Instagram for himself and some of the other members was a part of a deal with Harold to “draw more social media attention.” And, to be honest, it was pretty effective. Within a minute, 300 people had liked the photo, with a few comments from people attending tonight. Satisfied with his daily entry online, Rob moved back towards the couch, but couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the fact that they were still driving. He moved forward, to talk to Grant. “Hey man,” he said, wiping the tired look from his eyes. “How much longer until we get to Kiev?” “Four hours, probably,” he said quietly. “We got stuck in Moscow traffic for a while when you guys were asleep.” “Thanks,” said Rob, who moved back towards the couch. He let out a moan, and instead of perching on his usual place on the couch, he opted to lay down on the floor of the bus with a loud, exaggerated groan, laying face-down in front of the couch, instead of on it. The cabin fever from being on this bus was strong, and he was in the Vicarious tour bus so often, we was beginning to get cabin fever in there, too. The sooner he could get out of this bus, the better.