Smoke
Seamus and I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering up and down the streets of Richmond. Neither of us bought anything in the stores we walked into, but that was okay. That wasn’t really the point of the day at all. Exploring a city with someone, I had found, was the best way to get to know them. And the more I got to know Seamus, the more I was glad I had finally let him.
So glad, in fact, that I didn’t even care how ridiculously sappy he made me sound and feel.
All of that went out the window when we got back to the venue, though. As soon as we walked through the door together, I spotted Zac and he spotted us. And he actually scowled. The expression only lasted for a second before he turned his back to us as though we weren’t even there, but it was long enough to register with me. Seamus didn’t seem to notice, though, and I was grateful for that.
It took all the will power I had to drag myself away from him, but it wasn’t like I could really miss the walk. That was my thing, far more my cause than Isaac’s or Zac’s, and I hadn’t missed a single one since we started doing them. It just so happened that this particular walk was scheduled to take place during Seamus’ soundcheck. One afternoon without hearing his gorgeous voice wouldn’t kill me, though. Probably.
Zac’s attitude was no better once we began walking. He stayed near the back, hardly speaking to any of the fans. Usually he had a crowd of them around him, flashing cameras in his face and taping his silly jokes and stories. But not that day. They all seemed to sense the invisible wall of anger and bitchiness around him and kept a safe distance from it. Our fans were, unfortunately, no strangers to Zac’s angry side; most of them knew better than to poke the sleeping bear, as it were.
The good thing about taking the walk, though, was that I didn’t really have to interact with Zac at all. I could stay at the front, chatting with fans, and ignore the way he was trying to bore holes into the back of my head with his glare. I didn’t even look his way when I gave my speech at the halfway point or at the end. Still, I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.
Zac’s mood didn’t improve once we were back inside the venue for our soundcheck. Soundchecks were rarely a fun experience even when we were all in the best of moods, since we tended to leave the setlist planning to the last possible second and often pulled out random songs that we didn’t know especially well. Screw-ups and arguments were par for the course, but usually it all worked out by the time we took the stage for the actual show.
I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case that night.
It was a blessing and a curse that we poured so much of ourselves into our music. The songs were full of our real emotions, and those emotions – good and bad – tended to spill over into the performances. If we weren’t all on the same wavelength, a concert could really suffer. In most cases, the audience could hardly tell the difference, but everyone on stage was always acutely aware of even the tiniest little problem.
And Zac was more than a tiny problem that night.
His performance was spot on, but I could still waves of anger radiating from him all night. He had argued over the setlist, nearly refusing to do any sort of solo that night at all. Even though we agreed on Wish That I Was There as part of the acoustic set, I could see a scowl set on his face as he sang the words. And when he launched into the intro of And I Waited, I was certain that everyone within five miles could feel the rage he was pouring into it, punishing his poor drumset for… what? I still didn’t know. I had the distinct impression that whatever it was, it was something I had done.
When he wouldn’t even stand next to me during the bow, it only served to confirm my suspicion that Zac wasn’t just in a bad mood – he was mad at me. I stole a glance at him over Isaac’s shoulder, but he was facing straight ahead, his mouth set in a grimace that no one closer than the fifth row could have possibly mistaken for a genuine smile.
He was the first of us offstage, rushing off toward the green room so fast that I could barely keep up with him. I knew that trying to talk to him would only end in a fight, but I had to know why he was mad.
Seamus intercepted me at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the venue’s green room, a huge smile on his face. “Hey, you sounded great. Admittedly, I missed the last few songs, but I feel confident in saying that those sounded great as well.”
“Thanks,” I replied, scooting in a little closer to him in case anyone walked by. Okay, maybe I just wanted to be closer to him. It was a very narrow corridor, though. “Listen, have you seen Zac?”
“He just blew through here,” Seamus replied, his brow furrowing a bit. “I suppose he was headed for the bus.”
I sighed. I could see that Seamus didn’t appreciate that I met his compliments with a question about my brother, but at that moment, I was more concerned about Zac. I could, and would, make things up to Seamus later. With only the slightest glance around to be sure that we were still alone, I pressed a quick kiss to Seamus’ cheek.
“I’m going to go talk to him, alright? Come find me in a little while?”
“Alright, go on,” Seamus replied with a hint of a smile.
I knew that little bit of public affection was manipulative, but I didn’t care. If it kept Seamus from being angry that I was running off to deal with Zac, then it was worth it. As he had pointed out earlier that day, he was well aware of all the baggage I came with, and Zac was definitely a large part of that.
The bus was parked as near to the venue as possible, so luckily I was able to slip onto it without being spotted by any fans who might already be lurking around in hopes of getting an autograph. Although I could hear their voices on the other side of the bus, I couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see me. I felt a little guilty for trying to avoid them, too, but again, Zac was the priority.
As soon as I swung the bus door open, I had no doubt that Zac was definitely on board. The tell-tale scent of pot hit me immediately, a tiny cloud of smoke escaping before I could close the door. It wasn’t the first time Zac had been that reckless about smoking where anyone at all could find him, but it was the first time that tour that I had caught him indulging in that particular bad habit. Of course, I was no one to judge him for having one little vice.
I followed the trail of smoke to the back lounge of the bus; even through the closed door, it was obvious what was happening inside. The smell assaulted my lungs as soon as I opened the door. How one person could make our bus look and smell like a Grateful Dead concert in a matter of minutes, I would never understand, but that was Zac for you. I might have been impressed if I hadn’t been so frustrated with the hissy fit he had thrown all day.
“Really, Zac?” I asked.
Zac glanced up from his pipe, one eyebrow barely raised, but didn’t say a word. He just took a long, slow hit, as though nothing at all had interrupted him. His eyes fell closed and he leaned back against the couch, blowing the smoke out slowly. Eyes still closed, he said, “I could say the same to you.”
“No. You don’t get to do that,” I replied, crossing my arms. “I’m clearly talking about how you’re getting stoned about ten feet away from a bunch of our fans. But I have no idea what you think I’ve done.”
He let out a little chuckle, then took another hit. Everything about his demeanor said that he honestly didn’t care what I thought about his behavior. I figured I could attribute that lack of caring to the weed; Zac was never especially concerned with most people’s opinions, but he usually took mine into consideration, even if he still continued doing whatever he wanted afterward.
“Zac. What the fuck is your problem today?”
“No problem,” he replied, finally setting aside his pipe. “I do feel sorry for Shay, though.”
I bristled at the way Zac used that nickname. If there was something going on between the two of them… but no. That couldn’t possibly be it. Could it? Maybe Zac had a crush. That was a reasonable explanation, I thought.
“Sorry for him?”
“He really has no clue what he’s getting into, does he?” Zac asked. Before I could reply, he added, “I mean, it’s cute that you’re calling him your boyfriend. It really is. Does he know that label comes with an expiration date?”
“An expiration date?” I echoed.
“The end of the tour.”
I didn’t even need to ask. He was calling me a whore. I couldn’t even debate the issue; I was. But that was in the past. There was no way I could show Zac that, of course. And I didn’t really understand why it mattered to him. He had never before cared who I dated or slept with. Was he just jealous?
Zac gave a little chuckle. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“He knows,” I replied, desperately trying to stand my ground. “He knows how I used to be. But it’s not like that with him.”
“Of course it’s not,” Zac said, his voice a little softer but still full of venom.
“It’s not.” I sounded petty and childish, but so did Zac. Even if he did have a crush on Seamus, there was no need for him to be such a little bitch about my tendencies.
“Whatever you say,” he replied, picking up his xbox controller.
So that was that. Zac was just going to ignore me, effectively ending the fight and giving himself the last word. Knowing there was nothing else I could say, I turned on my heel and walked back to the other end of the bus. My laptop bag lay on the small table by the bus door, and I knew there was a pack of cigarettes tucked into one of the pockets. I didn’t smoke a lot these days, but I felt better just having a pack around in case I needed to sooth my nerves.
And after that conversation with Zac, my nerves were definitely in need of a little comfort.
I pulled out the cigarettes and the lighter I was happy to find in the pocket with them, and stomped off the bus. There was a little hidden alleyway where I was fairly certain none of the fans would spot me; although at that point, I was angry enough that I hardly cared. All I cared about right then was getting a little nicotine into my system so that I didn’t march back onto the bus and punch my brother. It was a fight I knew I wouldn’t win, but it was also a fight I really, really wanted to start.
The first drag made me cough a little – proof that I really wasn’t that much of a smoker anymore – but I didn’t mind. I leaned back against the brick wall of the building and let myself soak in the soothing feeling. In just a matter of minutes, I would feel better. Zac’s bitchiness wouldn’t even be a concern by the time I reached the filter.
I was about halfway through my cigarette when the venue’s back door swung open loudly. I opened my eyes and saw Seamus standing there, a slightly confused smile on his face.
“Did you find him?”
I nodded, taking another drag on the cigarette.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, leaning against the wall next to me.
I sighed, letting a little puff of smoke escape my mouth. “I don’t, usually. Gave it up a few years ago, but sometimes I just get the urge again.”
“And I suppose fighting with your brother gave you that urge tonight?”
“You could say that.”
He slid a hand between my back and the wall, gently rubbing at the knots of stress I didn’t realize I had. In seconds, I had let the cigarette fall to the ground unfinished. My tension wasn’t totally gone, but it was fading fast.
“Thanks, Shay,” I said, letting the nickname fall from my lips easily. I tried not to let myself think about Zac calling him that.
“No worries,” he replied, still kneading at the knots in my back. “Whatever his problem is, I’m sure it’ll pass. We’ll be alright.”
I didn’t share in his confidence, but I appreciated it. For the moment, I felt better, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I hadn’t seen the last of whatever Zac’s problem was.