HangYourSecrets

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob sat wordlessly for pretty much the entire trip upward and westward to Milwaukee. Knowing Jane hadn’t gotten must rest that past night and morning (and their ever-more-frequent eloping wasn’t helping that fact), so she slept upon Rob’s lap, and he ran his fingers through her hair softly as she rested.

It was a not-so-pleasant surprise to see a text from Harold on Jane’s phone, detailing how Lena was going to be waiting on them in Milwaukee. The fact that someone would come now, when Jane was feeling her worst, was bad enough; it didn’t help that Rob and Lena weren’t exactly friends.

Lena wasn’t a bad person, in Rob’s eyes. She just seemed to lack the depth that he typically looked for in friendships and partners. Whether there was more to her than her poor taste in music or her constant self-obsession, Rob wasn’t sure, but surely doubted. Jane, knowing prior events, probably did not feel the same way.

He nodded to Jane, letting her set her phone down and roll over, sleeping soundly. Not wanting to disturb her, he passed his opportunity on the AUX chord and requested Sam and Austin keep the choices more acoustic than electric. They did so, and a soft, calming acoustic guitar song filled the car: Death of A Salesman, by Low.

Rob had heard the soft previously, and softly sang the lines to himself, almost like a melancholy lullaby:

”I forgot all my songs
The words now are wrong
And I burned my guitar in a rage
But the fire came to rest
In your white velvet breast
So somehow I just know that it's safe”

…

At the hotel, Rob waited for Jane as she went off to Lena. The two made brief eye contact, before Lena turned her attention away from him and to Jane. While he knew the two well enough to know he hadn’t a thing to worry about in terms of infidelity, he certainly felt a small sense of jealously—the two had a different bond than he and Jane, and while it may not have been as deep or as vivid, the knowledge that Lena knew a different Jane that he may have felt a bit emasculating. But, perhaps, it was just his inner voice telling him things, as it had done so many times previously.

He made it to the hotel room in relative silence, doing his best to take care of Jane as she had done for him. Memories of his last brush with cocaine slipped through his mind; the thought of his body drooling uncontrollably on the hotel floor haunted him. It was the least he could to do be near her.

They spent that time in between arrival and dinner, talking much less than usual (for her sake), but enjoying each others company, watching music, and having a good time.

Somewhere in between their day off, Rob had stepped into the bathroom, and noticed a notification on his phone:

4:45, Harold: Call me.

Rob sighed, but complied, and raised his phone to his ear.

“How’s Lena?” He asked first.

“We haven’t spoken. Jane tells me she’s coming up tonight with some food for dinner.”

“Do you need to be there?”

Rob thought for a moment, before: “Probably not.”

“Good. Because I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

The way Harold’s voice spat out favor over the distorted audio made it sound like much more of a demand than a request. Although, it wasn’t very surprising to Rob. He had to pay his penance for his outburst sometime. He had gotten off far too easy.

“An interview?” Rob guessed.

A brief silence on the other end confirmed his suspicions, then: “There’s a shop in town dedicated to strictly drum-related stuff. They’d like you to swing in, play a few kits, sign some hardware, and give an interview. And before you ask: I’ve specifically told them not to discuss the single.”

“Not a word?” Rob clarified.

“You have every right to leave if they do,” Harold said, “but I can’t stop them from asking you off the record.”

Rob thought about it for a moment, and quickly realized that, if he stayed with Lena and Jane, he would only be the third wheel. The two were exceedingly close to one another, and Rob was definitely not. And knowing all the shit he had gotten the band into recently, being mad at a roommate was something he wanted to avoid. Perhaps this interview would at least keep the media attention from boiling over. Besides—he hadn’t made a single press appearance since the incident.

“When do I go?” Rob conceded.

“Whenever you want,” Harold said, “I’m texting you the address now.”

Soon after the phone conversation, Rob finished up in the bathroom and slipped back into the living room, taking his seat by Jane.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Rob said, hating the cliched words the moment they escaped his lips, “and you’ve seen a ton of me recently, and you haven’t seen Lena in weeks. When she comes over, I’ll probably slip out. Harold wants me to do this interview to make amends for my last one, and…I probably should.”

After a bit of time, Lena came over, and Rob quietly excused himself, knowing Lena would probably take it as a slight, but seeing no better alternative.

“I’ll be back when it ends,” Rob said, before closing the door behind him.

…

One taxi ride later, just as the sun was setting outside, Rob slipped into the music store Harold had told him about.

Beside maybe two crates of records and a few guitars on a slide wall, the place was littered with hardware for drums: rides, crashes, petals, stands, and pretty much anything else someone would want.

Soon enough, the man giving the interview came up and introduced himself.

“Hey,” he smiled, “I’m Graham, with The Iron Throne.”

The two shook hands, with Rob trying hard not to laugh at the name.

He led him over to the kit they had set up in the center of the room, with a few interested patrons and fans lining the perimeter. He sat down, and looked to the floor.

“Can I get a double bass petal?” he asked. Soon enough, one was supplied to him, and thinking of something to play for the crowd, he figured that he may as well play the song he had practiced, year after year, learning how to play drums.

So he cranked out the first minute or two of Panic Attack by Dream Theater, his favorite song. The crowd clapped enthusiastically as he finished, and the interview soon began.

Graham: Thanks for sitting down with us, Rob. We’ve been keeping up with your technical style for a while now, and we just wanted to say, thank you for bringing something interesting to the genre.

Rob: Thank you. You see too many drummers getting locked into five or six patterns, and never really venturing out. There’s so much that could be done on a kit, and I appreciate being recognized for trying.

Graham: Absolutely. Now, could you just give us a bit of background for those unfamiliar with In Bloom?

Rob: That’s a big question. [laughs] Where do I start?

Graham: At the beginning.

…

The podcast interview actually went on for almost an hour. Rob explained everything from their initial meeting from the same location, to the identity crisis in sound from the early days of the first few EP’s to, to finally playing a statewide tour, before embarking on this latest one in support of their newest record.

It was a fun trip down memory lane for Rob, and for once, an interviewer solely asked about the music. What the thought process was behind their second EP. What the lyrics meant on an older song Rob had been credited. Things of that nature, that really made Rob feel comfortable in his own skin.

Afterwards, Rob stuck around, talking to listeners in the store and signing literally each thing shoved in front of him. Normally, he would find a way away from the fans. But today? He couldn’t count how many pictures he had taken with people. As is turned out, Milwaukee was a pretty nice place.

All in all, it had been about a two-and-a-half hour experience, and Rob waited in an employee lounge, discussing music with the leftover workers, and texted Jane:

Just finishing up. How are things on your end?

While waiting for a reply, he received a text, but not from Jane.

8:02, Zoe: Trent got those edibles he was telling you about, if you want to swing by. Milwaukee is boring me.

Rob hesitated for a moment, thinking of what next to do. Ultimately, it seemed it would come down to Jane and Lena.

Whatever they had done in the time he had been away.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob was thankful that whatever discord had been struck with Jane over the past days seemed to have been over, although he tried not to wince at the mention of Hayden’s name. Something about having other people know about those events bothered him—even though he knew he had told Jane just the bare essentials.

Jane backed away and coughed next; the signs of the long road they had traveled clearing behind to come up to haunt her. With drums, the road provided little more than a few nasty blisters. But for a voice, the constant strain was probably something that grew quickly intolerable.

“I wish I could do something about that,” he said to himself. “If I could, I would.”

…

At the hotel, Rob watched as Jane slipped away from him, and prepared some sort of mixture for her drink. As she did, Rob picked up the clothes that had be strewn about in the hours between the cafe and how. Normally, Rob folded his clothes immediately after discarding them, but sometimes…that wasn’t important.

Rob smiled as he finished cleaning up, and moved into the kitchen himself, pulling out another energy drink, sure that he didn’t need it but confident he wanted it regardless. Jane had slipped out onto the patio, and by the time he had finished his drink, he slipped back in, raising a hand to signal: vocal rest.

However, the rest was merely for her speech, because soon enough, she was all over him once again. Only a text message interrupted their time together, and reluctantly Rob pulled away as she did, knowing it was time to leave.

It was odd of Rob be in a relationship where—at least so far—it seemed that Jane was initiating physicality far more than he would. Which was by no mean a bad thing, and was not a sign that Rob disliked it at all. It was fucking great. It was just that, after so many years of initiating, failed serious relationships and prolonged one-night stands, he felt a bit odd playing passive in the role instead of active.

It was something he thought about he and the boys left the van at the venue, leaving Jane to herself.

He had waited behind just for a bit, tucking a few stray hairs of hers into her snapback and pulling her close to him. His fingers grazed her jawline, across to the back of her head, and slipped into her hair as he kissed her.

“If you need me,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, “let me know.”

He pressed his lips to hers once again, this time sliding a hand across, grasping her side, but pulling away once he realized he had started to slip atop her unconsciously.

“Sorry,” he said, composing himself. He tried to listen the mood. “I guess once a day isn’t enough, apparently. Get some rest.”

As he exited the van, he was surprised to find Sam and Austin waiting around the corner.

“Jesus,” Austin joked, “I thought I was about to see you two fu—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Rob pushed off. “So, about the set.”

“We’re thinking like, five songs max.” Sam said. “She’s in no condition to do much more.”

“Sam called Harold earlier,” Austin continued, “we had a few press things scheduled tomorrow, but he’s wiping it. We’ll just be stuck in Milwaukee all day.”

After another few minutes of logistics, it was time for sound check, and Rob quickly played out a few notes, corrected his bass drum response, and slipped off stage to find a text message:

7:25, Zoe: Heard your singer is out of commission.

7:26, Rob: Not totally, but yeah. She’s resting now.

7:28, Zoe: Then come keep me company on this bus. Trent’s off fucking a roadie and between you and me, David’s not exactly riveting.

Within another ten minutes, Zoe and Rob were in the back of the bus, playing different tracks off of The Wall by Pink Floyd and (obviously) passing a joint between them.

“Shit, I’m telling you,” Zoe said through a laugh, more relaxed than ever, “this was my first prog record. Everyone starts with Dark Side but nope. Not me. I had to do The Wall. Man, by the the time The Trial came on, I couldn’t tell if I was imagining that shit.”

“I started with Dark Side,” Rob admitted. “My friend made me sit through The White Album, and I was telling him about how safe it was. And he just hands me this LP and goes ‘dude…you haven’t heard anything yet.’”

It was nice to talk about his formative years like this. His experiences with his parents and other former lovers had all been so negative, he had used music as his escape. And, like most teenagers coming of age, bands like Pink Floyd and The Beatles had introduced him to some incredible concepts. Like the gateway drug to music beyond the Top 40.

As they talked, “The Trial” came on next, and Rob and Zoe chanted the famous judge’s verses together, before jokingly yelling, “tear down the wall!” Over, and over again, until David made an appearance, asking both of them to tone it down. It was time to leave regardless, and Rob slipped backstage a few moments before seeing Jane across the stage. He smiled, but had no time to ask her how she had felt, before taking the stage and completing the show.

Afterwards, Rob moved other to Jane to try and congratulate her on persevering, but found her stooped over, seeming like she was about to vomit right there, on the side of the stage. Instead of trying to ask what was wrong (mainly because that seemed pretty bloody obvious), he sat with her, waiting until it was time to leave, before helping her back to the room and sitting her down.

“Hey,” Rob reassured, “whatever you need me to get, I can go get. We got Harold to cancel press tomorrow, so once we get to Milwaukee, we have the day off.”

He slipped away quickly to the kitchen to gather more water, but thought for a moment about what he had said.

Somewhere along the course of the trip, he knew Lena was supposed to arrive. The seemingly estranged roommate, he knew, was told about what was going on between Jane and Rob, but wasn’t mad about that? Right?

Bringing her water, Rob sat and asked: “What happened with Lena?”

He waited for a moment, then followed: “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. Just rest.”

He wasn’t sure why he had thought of her in the first place. Although, knowing Lena’s relationship to Jane in the past, he wasn’t sure he wanted her around.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Playing the acoustic set was relaxing but certainly boring. Rob spent the majority of the time spinning a drum brush endlessly across the snare head, using the other to lightly tap on the cymbals every so often. The only excitement throughout the experience was an interesting roll of the snare towards the beginning of Speechless, which he did with actual sticks, before switching over to the unfortunate metal delegated to drummers in the situations.

Afterward the set and the CD signing, the drum tech helped Rob with tear down, and asked him: “Why did you seem so bored?”

“It’s audio, isn’t it?” Rob said. “I play in time.”

“Yeah, I was just wondering.”

The way the drum tech talked seemed as if he was scared to ask about it. Maybe he had heard the podcast. Rob shuddered at the thought.

“You know Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record? How they recorded that?”

“Of course,” the drum tech said. “That was one of my first CD’s.”

“Watch Dave Grohl on drums sometime, in the video” Rob joked. “See if he looked any more excited than I did.”

The tech laughed, before moving along his way. For a moment, Rob regretted the candid conversation he had just had with a stranger. More and more he was delegating time to people he hardly knew, and one of these days he worried it would come back to bite him. He tried not to worry about it too much as he climbed back into the van. Waiting for the others, he felt the shitty upholstery that lined the ceiling and floor, knowing that someday very soon, they’d be finished with this van forever. It almost seemed like a loss of innocence.

Jane climbed into the van soon after the thought cross his head, nudging him and asking once again to hang out with him.

Had he been so distant? Jane didn’t seem to be the person to mince words, and less so around Rob. Sure, she had hidden the request under a joke, but in a way, he felt bad about what had happened.

Rob realized that, at the very least over the past few days, he had been having his typical discussions with others instead of Jane. And maybe it was because of the undiscussed podcast incident between them, but really wasn’t much of an excuse. He would need to talk to her about this, and she clearly wanted to. Or at least, some part of her seemed to.

“Let’s unpack first,” Rob said, lacing the words slightly with signature low sarcasm. And, once they had arrived at the hotel (a much nicer one than before, he needed to add) he took Jane out as requested.

The two slipped into a place Rob had always wanted to check out: the Hard Rock Cafe. The two stood in line for a moment, before a man in black approached them.

“Jane and Rob?” the man asked. Hesitating, Rob nodded.

“I thought so. We’re sponsors for the venue you’re playing at tonight. Come with me.”

Rob laughed as he followed the man, Jane in tow. “Looks like we’re V.I.P.’s”

And so they were.

They were given the prime seating in the house—a table overlooking the rest of the cafe, separate from the other tables and far enough away to avoid any unwanted fan interaction. In fact, at the base of the stairs leading to the seat, Rob eyed another man in all black, standing post. And while he didn’t know, he had his suspicion it was in an effort to prevent fans.

“Jesus,” Rob said between drinks. “I wish we had gone to some shitty dive instead.”

Sometime after saying it, he figured it was time to, at the very least, acknowledge the space between them. So he started:

“So we should probably talk about that interview, huh?” he tossed out. He took a bite of his food before continuing: “I guess I, uh, was pretty frustrated you got mad at me, to be honest. He kept asking me about us and the single, and I tried not to talk about both. I figured, I dunno…I guess I expected you to mention that, at some point.”

It felt so odd coming out of his mouth. It seemed the more and more this relationship grew, the less he liked to talk about things. To admit his feelings with words. The fear of messing things up was always in the back of his mind, maybe even causing him to.

“And I get why you were mad. Or, at the least, I think I do. How could I blow up when you hadn’t. It’s just—just something I’m not good at, you know? Like…”

Rob thought for a moment.

“Like I’m good at drums, and being pretty pragmatic about shit most of the time. But, who I let know how I feel? That’s just different. People thinking they have some right to know what I think. That pisses me off. Because it just feels so vulnerable. Like…they have the upper hand. Or something. I hate feeling that weak.”

And admitting things like this to you makes me feel weak, he wanted to add.

“So, I guess I’m sorry I blew up, but, I don’t feel bad for denying him that information. He was an asshole about it. So…I guess those are my thoughts.”

Rob looked down and picked at his food. Since when was he bad at talking? It was so odd to him to be that bad at it.

Jane, in some ways, was his own form of kyrptonite. Every honest moment he admitted to her felt like more ammo, and that one day, she was going to turn it right back at him.

And he could trace it back, in fact, to a woman whose name he didn’t remember.

…

It was freshman year actually, of all things. And Rob was different then. Sure, he made out with whatever girl came his way, but there was a different sense of vulnerability to him.

He remember what it was like to fall in love with someone. And that person, for him, was Hayden.

Sure, it was puppy love at best, but Hayden was something truly special to him. Every facet of his he found beautiful. Each action she took, each breath from her, it was all so incredibly vivid. Like living for the first time. Like coming out of a long trance, only to realize he had been asleep the whole time.

He was so, so naive.

They had gotten together just a month before prom, and she had been a junior; just old enough to go. So, Rob begged his parents for money. He cut yards and worked his ass off to pay for both his ticket and hers, as well as for the limousine she so desperately wanted. No matter how ridiculous her request, he would always fulfill it, always. He told her painful secrets about himself. He admitted things to her no one else knew. From his parents to some of the worst experiences of his short life, he gave to her. Only, when he realized he knew too little about her, it was too late.

Long story short, she broke things off with him the day after prom. She had used him for his money, and given herself a night she wouldn’t forget. And once she had used him, she had thrown him away.

And not only that; she was cruel, as well.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so fucking pathetic.” she spat into his face during the breakup. “Did you really think someone wanted you?”

Something about the moment broke him. Like every idea of what it was like to love was shattered beneath him—left crushed upon the floor from the wake of Hayden above him. And while her words were shallow and meaningless to her, they struck a chord with him that hadn’t been touched ever before.

He forgot about her months later, and couldn’t even recall her name after he had graduated, but the memory of what she did to him lived in the recesses of his mind. Like a tortured, immature voice shouting in his head: you stay the hell away from love. Don’t you ever, ever expose yourself again.

…

It was the same thought Rob had from time to time, and especially now, in front of Jane--the person he was closest to, across the world entire. Because beneath it all, the enigmatic persona he liked to live out, beneath his anger and his drive, he was as insecure as the rest of them.

And that fucking blew.

What was her name? he thought to himself.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob awoke to a cold bed once again. He reached his hand over to where Jane had been, feeling just the last remnants of the heat she radiated into the fabric, missing her.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

The nights had always been amazing with Jane. In every sense of the phrase. But the mornings?

He rolled over and groaned to himself, closing his eyes and trying to remember if Jane had told him something before she had left. It felt somewhat like a dream, but his mind distinctly remembered her soft timbre, echoing in his mind: “I’ll be back soon.”

Unsure of the meaning, he slipped clothes on and placed a beanie over his greasy hair, before slipping out onto the streets below the hotel.

Out here, he was a faceless man in the crowd. The anonymity of just being one amongst those marching onward, facing their separate lives enthralled him. He loved the feeling of being well and truly alone. Perhaps it was a problem, but knowing that in this moment, right now, there wasn’t a person relying on him, gave him the best sense of freedom.

Maybe Jane and him were similar after all.

…

After a bit, Rob passed a record store and slipped inside, glad to be surrounded by the music.

The practice was something his father called “utterly pretentious.” That in an age of instant access to music, whenever and wherever, buying a physical vinyl record was akin to idealizing a past age.

Perhaps it was. But the feeling Rob had, flipping through the different records, feeling the music in front of him as a physical, tangible item, was something irreplaceable. It wasn’t convenient, cheap, or even better, given the wrong table or pre-amp, but it certainly felt right.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him. Turning around, Rob was faced with the kind of woman he expected to own a store like this. Her round glasses obscured her eyes, and her knitted cardigan flowed effortlessly past her body. “Are you Rob from In Bloom?”

Rob smiled. It was a bit disarming to be caught outside—especially since he had just relished in his anonymity—but it was nice, at least, to be recognized in a place such as this, at the same time.

“Everyone say Jack first,” Rob said, “but yeah.”

“We just stocked your record,” she came, turning on her heel and sliding towards the “I” section of the store. Out of the hundreds of canned questions and responses Rob had expected from the woman, this was not one of them. She slipped out two copies of Ways and Means, both still wrapped and clear, and showed him from the slight distance between them. “Two sold this morning,” she said. “Mind helping out a dying industry and signing one?”

Rob laughed. “If it supports the cause. But I’m surprised my signature doesn’t hurt the sales.”

A minute later, Rob was at the counter, signing the record. The woman quickly slipped out another copy from behind the counter. “Actually,” she said, “if you could sign my personal copy.”

“Oh, you listen to us?” Rob said, obliging her request. “So what side are you on? Single or no?”

“I don’t keep up that closely,” she admitted. “I just liked what I heard. And it’s not everyday an artist slips in like this.”

Rob smiled, glad to hear at least one neutral party.

In the end, he slipped out with a classic Radiohead record he had been meaning to get, along with a Neil Young record. He returned to the room about five minutes before Jane did, and was laying back on his bed as she entered, hoping to get more sleep. Although, what she asked for from him, was surely better.

…

On the way to Chicago, Rob couldn’t help but let his mind run though the recent events.

More and more present in his mind was the actions of Jane. Surely, he had learned over the past years and at many other different points in his life, that Jane was a physical person. He had known that, and god knew he wasn’t complaining about it.

It was just that, sometimes, it felt a bit disparaging to be physical with someone so soon after a conflict. They had yet to discuss what odd feelings were going on between the two of them, but sometimes it felt as if Jane’s actions were either ignoring the issue, or just coming from a place of self-gratification. Things he wanted to express or explain to them felt pushed upon the wayside with her.

And it wasn’t a matter of liking or not—Rob had never felt so incredibly drawn to a person his entire life. But the stresses of letting things drift away from them instead of tackling them head on made Rob worry that such actions would soon come back to haunt them.

Conversations in recent times with Trent and Zoe felt the opposite. Those were people that directly spoke to him, not mincing words he may not want to hear but not holding back on the things he may need to. It was a connection he worried was one he didn’t have with Jane, or would ever.

And he supposed it stressed him out so much not that he was being drawn away from Jane, but more so that he was resorting to other people to fulfill a need in his life. Being physically and emotionally vulnerable to Jane was difficult enough; having others peer into his own life felt even worse, even if he instigated it.

And the issue of the podcast was just a physicalization of what he was feeling; general confusion.

On the way up, he gently rubbed Jane’s hand in his, more-so for his own comfort than hers. He knew better than openly, publicly making her do things typical for dating couples, but there was a simple pleasure in holding the hand of someone he cared about. In this van, with these friends, he felt no need to mince his actions or his words.

The band arrived immediately at the venue for the acoustic set—a Guitar Center retrofitted with a small stage in the back, and the equipment Rob would need to play already loaded. He thanked the small crew for setting up for him, and took the time to shake hands with the Spotify crew present for the recording; figuring the less he talked, the better. After all, what was played here would be recorded and listened to for god knows how long.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

As soon as Jane had entered the room—or at least, it certainly felt like it was as soon—she slipped out again, asking Rob to find her afterwards. Once the doors closed, all eyes locked onto Rob.

“So she’s cool,” David said first. His inflection was difficult to read, so Rob tried to pay it no mind.

“She certainly handles press better than I do,” Rob said, before the conversation turned to other matters.

An hour or so later, Rob’s phone buzzed—Harold.

“Sorry,” Rob said. “Manager.” He slipped into the hallway, and across to the vacant bathroom, before closing the door and answering the call.

“Before you tell me to fuck off,” Harold said, “just let me talk.”

Rob’s silence affirmed his agreement. Harold continued.

“I’ve been busy as hell setting a tour bus up for the Europe trip,” he started. “I’ve got that driver I had you guys meet earlier agree to it, but we need two more people. A merch guy and a sound guy. And since Sam and Austin agreed to let you and Jane figured it out, I figured I’d run it by you. Any ideas?”

Rob’s mind was thrown for a bit of a loop. He hadn’t expected such a conversation at the party. He knew Europe was going to be quite the trip, but needing crew? Like, their own personal crew? Perhaps he had blocked it out, but he truly had forgotten just how much revenue they were generating. It reminded him of Trent had said one of the first times they had met:

“We’re just stating on our national circuit,” Trent said, “But at the rate you guys are going, I’m surprised your manager hasn’t set you up on an international tour.”

Well he certainly was now.

“I don’t know,” Rob said, buying just a few more moments to think. His mind flashed to one of his only friends outside of the band; Aaron.

The two had gone on their own skating sessions over the course of high school, but drifted apart slowly once his friendship with Jane had grown. He and Rob had their own social groups—Aaron was drawn more towards a music-loving scene, and Rob to a music-creating one. In fact, Aaron had his own little record ship on Long Beach, and was always talking about a new turntable or pre-amp he had bought off some old bum during their quarterly phone conversations. He knew Aaron was much more content talking about music than making it, and had even set up In Bloom to have a limited vinyl pressing for Ways and Means.

“What about Aaron?” Rob said. “He could be open to it.”

“To do what?” Harold said. “He doesn’t know shit about sound.”

“He runs a shop,” Rob replied. “He can handle merch.”

“Fair,” Harold shot back. “We can’t have him on a decent payroll, but if he wants to do it for essentially free, he could. Once Europe ends we’ll probably need to keep crew on for the last leg of the American tour.”

Rob tried to contain his own shock at some of the conversations he was happening. A small voice in his head ran off: is this really happening? “Jane could probably get you someone for sound better than I could.”

“I’ll call her sometime.” Harold voice dropped about a half-octave. “So about the podcast.”

Shit.

“I uh,” Harold continued, “I’ve been thinking about it. I got a little carried away with the any-press-is-good-press mantra. And don’t get me wrong; the internet’s on your side on this one. But I’d like it better if you all worked together.”

They were unexpected words from Harold but still no less appreciated.

“Yeah,” Rob said, hoping Harold would continue. And he did.

“So, from now on I’m booking these interviews with the pretense that they don’t talk about your personal life. I mean, I can’t control what they ask you, but know if they do, it’s not coming from me.”

Rob wasn’t sure if he was mad at Harold for admitting he had egged them on from the sidelines to be angry, or relieved that he would stop manipulating them. In the end, he was a little bit of both.

“So the internet’s on my side?” Rob asked, repeating Harold’s words.

“Well,” he started, “No one hates you for it.”

“Jane does.”

“I can’t control that. I’m just saying most people respect that you tried to keep your personal life under wraps.”

So why didn’t Jane?

“Uh, thanks.” Rob said.

“I just need to you not harp on the single,” Harold said. “You all but said you didn’t like it on that podcast, and I really don’t need it repeated.”

“That I can do.”

“Good.”

The two remained silent for a moment, before: “Let’s try to work together, alright? Talk to you soon.”

“Alright,” Rob said, before hanging up the phone. Harold seemed a bit more honest, for the first time. And hearing his own manager saying he was right for going off on the podcast just confused him more about Jane. Why did he get berated for trying to defend their private life? He supposed part of it lay in the single he had criticized, but he had been so careful as to not say he didn’t like it. Only that he didn’t like it as much. Any fan watching him during the times they played it could’ve told him that.

And why did he care so much? He had become so vulnerable over the past few days. Hearing Anna call him a creep and tearfully admitting his feelings to Jane were just a few things he felt sensitive about. And sensitive was not usually what he was. Overthinking and pragmatic were.

Trying to brush it off, he pulled out his phone and texted Zoe:

11:54, Rob: I’ve got to go. Tell the guys I had a good time.

11:57, Zoe: Why didn’t you text them yourself?

11:59, Rob: I guess I wanted you to know too, I guess.

12:00, Zoe: Well, I’m glad you did.

Zoe was just another enigma that he was confused about, and he was confused enough already. He made his way outside, and found the rest of his bandmates, before all of them headed back to the room. They had come a long way from the beginning of the tour; knowing how early they would need to wake up for the trip early tomorrow. They had an acoustic set, of all things, once they arrived at Chicago (for which he would be regulated to an acoustic box and drum brushes—ugh) and a late night set. The acoustic set in particular was being recorded for Spotify Sessions, so the pressure was surely on for that. It would be best if they all just turned in.

Back at the hotel, Rob looked around to the peeled walls and couldn’t help but feel like it resembled what had happened to him in this city. How exposed he felt. His mind more returning to it’s usual, aloof self. He showered quickly to clear out his head, and took Jane by the hand once he had dried off.

“Come on,” he said softly, “let’s just go to bed.”

He crawled into bed, held Jane to him, and hoped tomorrow would be a better day.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

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.”

”The shower’s bigger here.”

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 me 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: In Bloom’s Drummer Just Snapped On A Podcast, and We’re Still Trying To Figure Out If He’s Right.

“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: Zoe Davidson is Gay?! Bassist Lives Vicarious Life of A Straight Woman On Stage.

“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.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob held his hands against his temples as he listened to Jane. Austin slipped outside before he could launch into an argument he’d regret, telling them to leave. His voice was almost hard to distinguish above the sound of his own raging heartbeat. He felt so close to exploding.

“I can’t fucking do it,” he muttered, more to himself than Jane. “I can’t act like that shit doesn’t bother me. And he wouldn’t fucking drop it!”

The last words croaked out of his voice like some sort of roar. The interview had pushed just the right buttons. Knew exactly what it took to set Rob off. And now he was filled with a frustration and anger that almost scared himself.

He left her leave. Or at least, from his position, he surely felt like he had let her leave. He knew how much it pained her to sit and talk things through, but it didn’t in the least surprise him that she had walked off after berating him. He didn’t want to be mad at her about the incident, but refusing to talk about their sex life seemed to warrant more than criticism, at least in his eyes.

Silently, he got up and got into the car at the passenger seat, silently grabbed the free AUX chord, and cranked Ticks and Leeches by Tool. He silently tapped his foot to the beat, to the endless repetition of rhythm on guitar. A song dominated by the drums. Something he needed to hear right now. Anything but the damn single.

And as the ending of the song came on, and the wall of noise driven by the relentless double bass, the car shook violently. No one had even so much as talked to Rob at this point, and he highly doubted they’d call him out on his volume. Almost smiling, he could feel Sam and Austin react to the final lyrics of the song:

Is this what you wanted?

Is this what you had in mind?

Is this what you wanted?

Cause this is what you’re getting.

I hope

I hope

I hope

You choke.”

…

At the show, Rob disappeared back into the Vicarious tour bus, as soon as the band had arrived. He saw Jane disappearing off into a side alleyway with much of the contents of her rider. Taking her lead, he had grabbed his own items—mainly energy drinks and cigarettes—and was soon back with Trent, Zoe, and David, who all had stayed behind after their setlist.

“I mean, holy shit!” Trent yelled over the loud, repetitive music. He put on a mocking tone, quoting Rob’s words from the podcast. “No, no, no. I legitimately want you to think about this. Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?”

He burst out laughing as he finished the sentence, falling over onto the bed; his bare chest smearing sweat from the show he had played all over the sheets. Rob sat with his back to the headboard and laughed. He put his cigarette out by dropping it into an empty can by the bed.

“Dude,” Trent continued, rolling to his back, “you fucking rock. Like, really.”

“I just got mad,” Rob laughed. Trent’s general attitude towards he subject was slowly growing contagious on him, and he felt himself relax. “Dude was being a prick.”

“A total fucking prick!” He continued. He had this way of cursing. Words like fuck and prick slipped off his tongue like art. Trent seemed to truly enjoy every facet of being on the road; and in some ways, being a rock star. He explained: “I’m telling you man, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You can keep fighting it all you want, but it’s your fucking image to be crazy. You don’t have to like it.”

“Well I don’t,” Rob said, sitting up. “I don’t want to have to put on some show every time I get interviewed. I don’t want to be some prick. I’m not.”

“I’m not saying you need to act a certain way,” Trent countered. “Just do what you want. And please, for the love of god, stop giving a shit about what they think. If the fucker interviewing you is getting to personal, call them out on that. And, by the way, anyone who thinks you overreacted to that guy is a fucking prude. He was asking for it.”

Rob shot a look to Zoe, as if to ask: Is he right?

She seemed to give a curt nod, before looking back down to her phone. Is was her turn to pick a song, and Trent seemed to notice.

“Oh boy,” he said, turning an eye to David, who had been previously silence thus far. “Get ready for some weird shit.”

“Not that I don’t like stoner rock,” Zoe said, not bothering to look back up, “but sometimes you gotta listen to something else.”

Sensing the confusion in Rob, Trent looked back to him: “She likes electric stuff.”

“Eclectic,” Zoe corrected, before an odd, almost middle-eastern beat filled the room. Rob made a sort of odd face, before making eye contact with Zoe again.

“Wait for it…” she said with a smirk.

Suddenly, the room filled with the sound of drums, electric guitar, bass, but even more….jazz instruments? Rob couldn’t tell if he was hearing a violin, a saxophone, or both. It was strange, progressive…and pretty fucking unique, as well.

“What is this? He asked by the main chorus, hooking him in completely. She turned her phone to show him the track: In The Company of Worms by Thank You Scientist.

“It’s like jazz fusion,” she said, “if jazz fusion wasn’t shit.” The waited until the main breakdown faded in, leading to a solo between two instruments Rob hadn’t heard paired so often: violin and guitar. “Guy’s playing on a fretless guitar, with a violinist, on a prog track,” she said. “Who does that?”

Rob laughed. It really was something else. And not just the music. Sitting here with people he hardly knew, feeling more comfortable and at home than if he had stuck around with with his other bandmates. They had calmed him down enough to think, enough to figure out a path forward. It was more than he could have gotten accomplished with J—

“Rob Pennie?” A voice came. A crew member had tracked him down into the bus. “You’re on in five. And Vicarious needs to move this bus in twenty. We’ve got another band that needs the spot.”

“Welp,” Trent said emphatically, “fun’s over.” He looked to David. “Go find Andy. Let him know we’ll probably bail before In Bloom’s set ends.”

“He wanted to see us?” Rob asked. Talking to the drummer and bassist was one thing, but the singer? The guy seemed quiet on stage, and more so in real life. If he had to admit it, he almost looked up to him. He seemed so genuine in his actions, like he wouldn’t blow up in a fashion like Rob had.

“Yeah,” Trent said. “He plays your stuff on the road.” Trent turned to David, catching him before he left. “Actually, we’ll move to the loading lot. We’ll go see the set, too.”

Rob thanked Trent and the others for their time, as he slipped out of the bus. David slipped into the driver’s seat to move the bus as Zoe and Trent walked Rob to the stage.

“Don’t blow up on the audience, now,” Trent mocked. “One meltdown is enough. We’ll be stage right after your set.”

“Thanks guys,” Rob said, before separating out, catching up with his waiting band.

He caught sight of Jane just before he walked out to mount the drum kit. She seemed a bit out of it. Had she already gotten drunk? Rob tried not to think on it too hard. Between the shit he put everyone through earlier this tour, to the meltdown he had had that seemed to really upset her, he really couldn’t blame her for the usage. But, Trent’s words rang in his head all the same:

”Anyone who thinks you overreacted to that guy is a fucking prude”

Rob looked at Jane as she warmed up the crowd, and couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the whole thing.

…

During the show, the last remaining shred of Rob’s anger at Simon melted away, and he beat the ever-loving shit out of his kid. He felt this sort of self-confident, fuck-you vibe within himself that he let wash over him—influencing his playing. By the time the single rolled around, he felt as if he was on trial. The audience was the jury, and the critics lining the press pit the judge. He pled his case with his snare and toms, cymbals and kick. By the time the last chorus rolled around, Rob held on the cymbals, rolling wildly as-per the band’s typical closing noise, before slamming down three, spread hits on the snare, each louder than the last. By the final his, he had swung his arm from high above his head, cracking the drum head in two with a loud popping noise. The crowd let out a roar from the event, and Rob stood up chucking the sticks into the crowd and waving, before making a mental note to let Harold know he’d need a new snare.

Off stage, Trent, Zoe, and David stood off to the side, waiting and smiling as Rob approached. Behind them, Rob could see their guitarist, Matt, picking at craft services, while Andy made conversation with Jane another few yards away. He let her have her space before thanking his new friends for their time.

“Dude,” Trent came, “have mercy on that poor snare. What it’d ever do to you?”

Rob laughed as the two pulled in for a half-handshake-half-hug, before separating. “Totally worth it man. Each show feels better than the last.”

They talked for a bit, before saying their goodbyes and soon enough, In Bloom was back in their usual van, getting ready to leave.

As Sam and Austin slipped out of the van to get the remainder of stuff left from the rider, Rob turned to Jane. Time to make amends. Somehow.

“I, uh,” he started terribly, “I’m not going to make you talk about what happened, or anything. And I’m not itching to, either. I just…I couldn’t take that guy berating me like that. Maybe it shouldn’t have gone on in the first place. I didn’t let on how much that interview bothered me until it all came out like that.”

He paused, before stating again. “Maybe that makes me the asshole drummer,” he said, honest. “I don’t know.”

Before he could continue, Sam and Austin slipped into the car, and soon enough, the drive started off, back to the room. Tomorrow, the nearly-five-hour drive would take them to Chicago, where they’d play two separate sets; and no doubt, he’d have to confront Harold about his actions at some point. He tried to shove it from his mind as Sam spoke up.

“Harold wanted to know why you didn’t announce the tour tonight.”

“What?” Rob muttered out loud, before it hit him: he had completely forgotten. “Oh…I guess that’s on me.”

“Yeah.”

The way Sam had said it, it seemed to say so much more than just an acknowledgment. More of a, ”I’m really fucking mad at you, Rob,” than a “yeah.” Rob had easily forgotten that Sam actually liked his father. Perhaps Harold had told Sam about Rob’s outburst.

Rob looked to Austin, who just shot him an empathetic look, before turning around. It seemed that, at least for now, he was in exile from the rest of the band.

Regardless of how he felt, he realized the kind of position he put them in. And it was going to take a lot of explaining to get him out of this drama.

Jane first, Rob thought to himself. Then I’ll deal with everyone else.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

“If I ever start to drive you crazy, you'll tell me, yeah?”

“Always,” Rob said, taking the cigarette from her hand, and taking a drag, before returning it. “No bullshit, remember?”

Out here, the air seemed just a bit chilly—regardless of the time of year it was. Rob’s breathing shifted slightly, from his more shallow breaths to something far more relaxed. If he was going to go face another interview about the questions Anna had raised for him, he would need to be ready for it.

The words she had said were still echoing through his head. Pathetic. Creep. Words he had heard slip off the tongues of many women when describing other men. Even to him, in relation to another man. He remembered past girlfriends talking about it lightly, remembering their former lovers with nothing but distain and contempt for the whatever reason those men had given them. The honest truth was, each time it happened, Rob would always want to point out how so very quickly you could cut down a man with words. He remembered things his father had said out of spite decades ago that hurt far worse than any of the limbs he had broken in his skating days.
And now two women had told him how false they were. Jane, and Zoe. One, the most important in his life, and the other…some enigma. Someone he had only just met, yet for some reason was thinking of her in the present moment.

He cleared his mind, and walked back inside, bracing himself for the following interview:

Simon: Welcome back to the Musicians Unplugged podcast. We’re here now with In Bloom, sitting down with Rob Pennie. Since it seems to be the elephant in the room, let’s go ahead and talk about this roadie interview, if you don’t mind.

Rob: Sure.

Simon: Well, is it true?

Rob: [laughs] Which part? I mean, the sex thing?

Simon: Anything you’d wish to discuss.

Rob: To be perfectly honest, I wish I didn’t have to. I don’t know. I mean, I get that we’re moving towards a society that’s a lot more open sexually and emotionally about a ton of different things. And overall, I’d say that’s a good thing. But when it comes to intimacy, I think there’s a need for a line to be drawn. The things I do in the bedroom are between myself and my partners. Anna made the choice to talk about parts of it, and I won’t deny that we had intimate moments, but I’d rather not talk about specifics. I will say that everything I ever did with Anna was consensual, and I’m sure she’d say the same thing.

Simon: Sounds like you’ve thought about it for a while.

Rob: I needed to. When you make mistakes, you’ve got to deal with it in your own way. I wasn’t expecting to have to talk about it publicly but I have thought about it.

Simon: She also made mention of your lead single being, hold on lemme quote this right… “a generic-ass rock single [that] isn’t worth talking about.”

Rob: Yeah, I recall that.

Simon: Thoughts?

…

Rob looked off to the side to Jane as she had done to him just earlier that interview. Was is right to bad-mouth a song that had just been released? To be hard of the three minute track that had granted them all these opportunities?

…

Rob: I think she’s entitled to her own opinion.

Simon: But what’s yours? You’ve never really spoken publicly about it before.

Rob [sighs] I mean, we’ve done better work. I think every band wants their other tracks to have more notoriety than the song they’re known for. There’s a ton of stuff off our old EP’s that don’t get as much love as the newer stuff. But you gotta play what people want to an extent.

Simon: Like Speechless? That that’s somewhere around what, five years old?

Rob: Yeah, off the second EP we put out. It’s something we all like enough to keep around.

Simon: Some of the critics worry about your sound being stylistically all over the place.

Rob: [laughs] I’m sure they are. People said it to Radiohead about Kid A. Or Thrice on Vheissu. Shit, we can throw the Beatles in there with Sargent Pepper’s.

Simon: Those are big names you’re pitting yourself up against.

Rob: Well, it’s all examples, but bands change. They put out new stuff when they want and sometimes old fans want more of the same. Sometimes the other way around.

Simon: I think that’s what a ton of people would say about your newest record, Ways and Means. And what others would say how you feel about it.

Rob: Well, if the others say it…

Simon: I just wanted to clarify the stance. It’s all what we’re hearing.

Rob: Jesus. A bit of an interrogation, isn’t it.

Simon: Well, we’ve got the time to cover something else…

…

Rob took in a deep breath. He was hoping to be able to slip in his point about the international tour at some people, but Simon was not letting up. His vapid smile stared at him from behind his mic. He had warmed them up earlier, but now he was getting what he really wanted; how the band felt behind the scenes. Whether everyone was happy swinging towards something radio-friendly.

…

Rob: Here’s the truth, Simon. When you’re making music, there are songs others like more than yourself, and songs you have to fight for on the record. With the first record, we pretty much only had enough material to fill out the track-list, but there was a ton of music behind Ways and Means. We had to cut out something like, what? Five tracks? A lot of stuff we’re hoping to put on a Deluxe record at some point. But I think it’s alright for some band members to like some stuff more than others.

Simon: So you’re saying you don’t like the single?

Rob: I’m saying it’s not my favorite track on the record, sure.

Simon: And what about these five cut tracks you were talking about? Did you think any of those were better than the single?

…

Fuck it. Did Harold want bad press for them? Did he want them on the news?

Because they were about to be on the fucking news.

…

Rob: I really don’t want to get into this.

Simon: Why is that?

Rob: What—what, are you serious?

Simon: Yeah.

Rob: Because I’m not here to talk shit about my band.

Simon: I’m not asking you to do that. I just was wondering if you felt like—

Rob: You’re not wondering anything. You’re trying to get me to talk about how much I hate the single. You’ve brought it up like three fucking times, man. Ask another question.

Simon: Alright, we’ll go to something else.

Rob: Ok.

Simon: Jane was talking about new elements in your relationship, right?

Rob: Did you really fucking ask me that?

Simon: …I don’t understand—

Rob: I go off about how intimacy isn’t respected in the culture, and you ask me about the new elements in my relationship? Holy shit, dude.

Simon: You wanted me to ask another question.

Rob: Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?

Simon: Yes—

Rob: No, no, no. Stop thinking about the podcast and the listeners. I legitimately want you to think about this. Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?

Simon: I am.

Rob: Then how the fuck can you ask me about that? You ask Jane about her sexuality, then she tells you about how bad publicity is her biggest complaint. Then I talk about the same fucking thing, and you ask me about my “new elements”?

Simon: Like I said, you wanted me to ask another question. I was talking about your music.

Rob: Then do it.

Simon: So people are saying closing with the single is just forcing people to hear your other work in order to hear what they want. So I wanted to know—

Rob: Ok. Right. Fuck this.

…

Rob took off the headphones and tossed them onto the table, before standing up and storming out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Simon talk in his same bullshit-voice: “Sorry about that. Rob seems like he’s done with the interview, so we’ll have Sam come up next. Wonder if he’ll talk about whatever he and Rob recorded away from the band…”

The rest became an indistinguishable noise as he walked down the hall to the back garden of the blog’s headquarters. As the door closed behind him, he looked up and let out a loud ”FUCK!” into the sky, before sitting down on the nearest bench. He felt his phone ring in his pocket, and picked it up.

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” Rob said, not waiting for Harold to respond. “I’ll announce the tour tonight. Oh, and if you’re planting these interviewers to ask this kind of shit, then you can go fuck yourself.”

“Rob—“ Harold came, before being cut off as Rob disconnected the call. He sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the greenery around him, hoping to find a way to unwind but not being able to. He hadn’t had a blowup like this since…

…since Rob and Jane had argued over the single in the first place, just a month before the tour.

A part of him felt good to have done it. If they were building a reputation for being wild, he certainly was solidifying it now.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Detroit wasn’t quite as pleasant as Rob had hoped it would be.

Yesterday, wrapped together with Jane, everything seemed perfectly alright. However, even the hotel Harold had booked for them didn’t quite seem up to scratch with that Cleveland or any of the other cities had offered them. And it certainly wasn’t due to cost. Rob looked along the peeling edges of the wallpaper around their bed and wondered how far they had come. How quickly he could complain about a hotel booked for them, across the country from his hometown, doing what he loved.

And sleeping with whom he loved as well.

Looking to his right, he saw the mass of blonde hair tangled in a knot. His eyes followed the hair down to it’s origin, seeing Jane’s head resting gently beside him, nuzzled into him. It was their second mid-day nap in two days.

Jane had been so very direct to Rob. It was like a switch turned on between them. Now, knowing each other so well, the next step into their relationship had been so smooth and direct. And no matter how many bad press articles were released, no matter how much Rob worried, everything seemed like it was going as well as it could be. He turned softly as to not disturb her to look at his phone. He had missed a text message:

4:21, Trent: What are you doing?

4:45, Rob: Napping. Got an interview at 7 and we go on at 9.

4:47, Trent: Want to get out? Our set’s at 7 but we’ve got shit to do until then.

4:49, Rob: Sure. You’ll be on the bus?

4:50, Trent: Always am.

Rob looked to Jane again, this time with eyes wide open. He hadn’t wanted to sleep as much as she had, and while he enjoyed her against him, he could use some time away. Maybe he could bum more weed off the guy, if anything. Rob waited until he felt Jane stir, then whispered into her ear.

“Trent wants to meet up,” he said softly. “Let me see if I could get us some more stuff.”

He kissed her gently. “I’ll be back before the interview.”

…

He arrived at the venue earlier than anyone had expected to see In Bloom, so it took some explaining to security why the drummer had shown up early enough. After a few ID checks and quick explanations, Rob found himself knocked at the Vicarious tour bus. After a moment, the door snapped open with a waft of smoke, and the unmistakable stench of pot. Man, he thought to himself. I knew they were stoner rock, but—

“What’s up?” The curly-haired man in front of Rob said. His wild hair in varying colors between blonde and brown was shoved back with sunglasses. The man scratched at his heavy stubble as he waited. Rob recognized him as their guitarist; Matt.

“Hey,” he started, “I’m Rob from In Bloom. Trent said—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said, stepping aside. Nodding, Rob entered the van again, now much more occupied than last he saw it. “He’s in the back bedroom,” Matt said, downing the last of the beer in his hand.

In the bus, clothes were strewn about in various baskets and along the floor. At the table off to one side, Rob saw the frontman noodling some notes on his guitar, most likely practicing the songs they were soon to play. His eyes were cast downward, and the two didn’t talk as Rob walked further back.

Passing the bunks, Rob slipped into the back, main bedroom—pushing the cracked door wide open. Inside, Rob saw Trent mid-laugh, one hand gripping the mouthpiece and the other holding the hookah steady as the bed shook with him. He was sat across from another man, who seemed equally enthralled in whatever they had discussed. Leaned against the back wall, their bassist had her eyes down at her phone; her black hair obscuring most of her face. Hearing the unmistakable creaking of the door, her eyes locked back upwards to Rob’s, and the two for a moment, had no idea what to say.

“Rob!” Trent said loudly, throwing a hand in the air. He patted the bed on the only free spot- a corner on the other side of the hookah, by the bassist’s feet. “Come sit!” Behind him, a stereo blasted a old favorite of Rob’s: Speaking In Tongues by Eagles of Death Metal.

He did so, planting himself smoothly on the bed, slipping off his flip flops as he did so. Now sitting, he could feel the vibrations of the bed along to the endless beating of the song.

“This is David!” Trent said over the music, pointing the mouthpiece to the other man. “He normally rides in the crew bus, but we fuckin’ love this guy so he’s with us for now. And this,” he said, pointing to the raven-haired bassist, “is Zoe. Bass extraordinaire, but not much of a talker.”

Zoe tossed Rob a polite nod, looking at him with drained eyes, before lowering back into her smartphone. Her white earbuds stood out strongly against the dark clothes and smoky haze.

“So,” Trent said, “How long do we have?”

Rob looked to his phone. “About an hour, before you go on.”

“Perfect.”

…

Over the next several minutes, each of the four people sitting atop the bed passed the hookah around until each was high out of their minds. Rob tried to focus on Trent’s explanation of which specific strain he had purchased, but between the endless music and jokes, he couldn’t hardly remember it. Before long, he was laying in the center of the bed, pressed up shoulder-to-shoulder with Trent and Zoe on either side. David’s legs were the only part of him on the bed; the rest of his sprawled out, staring at the ceiling and talking about penguins. Or, something of the sort. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t reasonable.

Next to him, Zoe muttered something to herself, before looking at Rob. “You might want to watch this,” she said. She pulled one of her earbuds out and passed it to him, before angling her phone so he could see it. It looked like one of those smaller blog interviews with anyone within arm’s reach of a popular band.

“Fuck,” Rob muttered aloud the second he recognized the guest. On the screen, Anna sat, dressed in the same dress from the hotel room. He entered in the middle of the conversation:

Host: So, wait, you were working crew for Vulture, and this guy approaches you?

Anna: No, I went for him.

Host: You started it.

Anna: It’s not like it was an affair or anything. Tour life can be shit, and when I see someone I want, I take that opportunity.

Host: So, you were more into it than he was?

Anna: No no no. It was mutual.

Host: And completely physical.

Anna: Look, if there’s one thing their frontwoman has right, it’s that I’m gonna do what I want. I wanted to hook up with him, I admit it. I don’t give a shit that it seems bad or shallow.

Host: And he was into it?

Anna: Completely. Well, at least until one night.

Host: What happened? He stopped you?

Anna: Fuck no! He might tell you otherwise, but I stopped him. I wasn’t going to be a conduit.

Host: For Jane?

Anna: Yeah, for Jane! He’d do creepy shit, like mess up my hair like hers. It was kind of pathetic, actually.

Host: Well, it seems like they might be together. Some of our readers sent in a photo from an impromptu cover the two did in New York. Another guy said he saw both of them getting kicked out of the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame.

Anna: There are worse places to do it.

Host: [laughs] Yeah, but wouldn't you say the problem seemed to work itself out?

Anna I’d just like to see them just fucking admit it already. There are other bands running the circuit right now that that actually deserve to be talked about.

Host: Like Vulture?

Anna: Vulture, Vicarious…any of them, really. Releasing a generic-ass rock single isn’t worth talking about.

…

Rob popped the headphone out and slid it back to Zoe. He turned to Trent, but he was already reading about it on the phone.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, “I mean, I’d say I’d kill for the press attention, but—“

“Trust me,” Rob said, putting his head back against the wall. “No you fucking don’t.”

After that, Rob helped the group clean up the room a bit, before using their eyedrops to clear out the last of the physical evidence and getting a promise from Trent that he’d set him up with that strain once he got more.

“You need to try that shit as an edible,” Trent said as he pulled his spare sticks out from one of the many closets along the walls. “It’ll help you through that interview today.”

“I really need to cancel that,” Rob said. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “We’re not ready to talk about this. By the time I get back, me and Jane won’t have enough time to figure it out. God…our fucking manager loves this. He wants us to be all over the news.”

As Rob made his way out of the bus, he felt a gentle hand grab at his shoulder. He pivoted around to see Zoe.

“Hey,” she said, soft. “Don’t worry too much about it. She seemed like a bitch anyways.”

Rob laughed lightly. “I don’t know. She might be right. I might be a creep.”

“You’re not.” 

Zoe turned and made her way to the stage, leaving Rob planted in place for just a few moments, before turning and making his way to the main road for a taxi. He slipped out his phone and sent Jane the link to Anna’s interview.

5:57, Rob: I’ll be back as soon as possible.

Climbing into the taxi, however, his phone rang. Harold.

“Alright,” Rob said into the microphone, not wasting a beat, “what?”

“Is is true?”

Rob sighed. “Most of it, yeah.”

“Look,” Harold came, “just put up a united front. I’ve got something for you to announce that’ll detract from the news.”

“And that is?”

Silence, for a moment.

“Harold,” Rob said, “I’m really not in the mood. Just fucking tell me.”

“I switched around your tour dates,” Harold said. “I was up last night finishing arrangements. You’ll go through Chicago, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis as scheduled. Then, you’ll do Kansas City and St. Louis. That’s the end of your American tour.”

“American?”

“For now,” Harold said. “Obviously you’ll swing back in and catch the cities we missed afterwards. Because after St. Louis…you’re going on a European Tour.”

Rob couldn’t believe it. “I’d be more excited if I wasn’t so fucking stressed out.”

“I’ll fill you in on the details later, but it’s just to help build the name. You’ll probably be playing the shittiest venues in Europe again, but trust me, this is worth it.”

“I’m at the hotel,” Rob said as the taxi driver pulled up to the lobby. He handed him a twenty and left the cab. “I’ll call you back once I figured out this Anna shit.”

He disconnected the call, and felt his head whirling as he went upstairs to the room. He found Jane quickly once he entered, but paused himself to let her speak.

Pretty much everything was going to take some explaining from this point forward. Looking back on just a few hours ago, he was right to be worried. 

Everything was changing, all at once.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

It was funny, in a way, the two of them reconciling differences in a laundromat. He gave the disapproving woman near then a smirk as Jane let off of him, moving to pull her clothes out of the laundry. He moved soon to do the same.

“Sam wanted to show me some riffs he had made recently,” he started. “We did a short interview in return for some studio time.” He felt the warm clothes in his hands, for a moment distracted by the feeling. Then: “Harold’s been pushing everyone for a new track, apparently. Something tells me he wouldn’t want anything I had in mind.”

He wanted to continue on about the issue. Ask her what she wanted to do with the band moving forward. To follow in the footsteps of the single that had brought them so much attention or refine their earlier sound, and make something interesting out of it. He had been thinking on and off about where they could go from this direction, but other things had quickly become more pressing to him than where to take the next record.

“Let’s get these clothes back to the room,” he said as he loaded the last of the things. “Then, I’ve got an idea of something we can do.”

He slid his phone out, calling them a ride back. Within another twenty minutes, they were back in the room, putting the last of their clothes back into their proper places. Afterwards, he quickly pulled Jane towards him, holding her by her shoulders and giving her a kiss upon her forehead.

“As much as I’d like to stay in,” he said, “I think you’ll like where we’re going.” He slid his phone out of his pocket hoping to call another ride, but was confronted with a text:

12:38, Trent: Holy shit, you guys can’t catch a break.

Attached to the text was a link to a new article. Some place called Pickups and Hardware. Yet another indie music blog, no doubt.

12:39, Rob: I’ll check it out. Thanks for the heads up.

12:40, Trent: No problem. We’re running the circuit, same as you. Text me whenever.

Rob pressed a thumb on the link, pulling up the website. The headline was a wonderful first sign: ”In Bloom” looks to wither long before blossoming. Real fucking original.

“Fuck me,” Rob muttered to himself, scanning the article, before sliding the phone into Jane’s hands.

As he waited for her to read it, he could distinctly remember the first few lines:

In Bloom’s second LP seemed to bode success for the band. Within less than a month, the Long Beach Rockers have gone from unknowns to the next big thing? But how long will it last?

Their manager gave me the opportunity to sit down and watch the band during a brainstorming session. But, it was only their guitarist and drummer who showed. Sam Breckenridge and Rob Pennie through around a few ideas for only half an hour, before switching instruments and covering other bands. Were they considering an instrument switch? Or were they trying to get away from Jane’s growing public image? Neither the guitarist, nor the band’s cold, technical drummer would comment on it.

“That’s not what happened,” Rob muttered after he felt Jane had enough time to absorb the information. “And it’s not Sam. Can’t be. I mean, he’s can be a dick, but…”

Rob rolled his eyes and glared at the ceiling. “Fucking Harold,” he whispered out loud. “He probably told the reporter the whole band was going to show. All me and Sam knew was that he was going it ask us a few things. And he didn’t ask any of that bullshit about you or some instrument switch. We were just having fun. I guess I know how you feel, now.”

Rob’s voice dropped a bit lower than before. “They’re probably going to ask us about all this shit at the interview tomorrow.” Taking in a deep breath, Rob did his best to release the thought. Regardless of what that man did or said, he wouldn’t let him fuck up his free day with Jane. He moved to the door. “Fuck him, right? I’m not letting him ruin our day.” He slipped the phone back to him and called the ride.

Thirty minutes later, Jane and Rob were at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame.