Chapter Three: And the plot thickens.

In which we learn of the events that transpire to lure Rachel far, far away from home and ever closer to her dream.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound echoed through the tour bus as Tachycardia prepared to leave.

“Do we still have a fan out there?” Dane asked.

“Do we still have security around?” Tanya said, rolling her eyes.

“Who is it?” Devyn asked, more reasonably, and got up to draw the curtains to one side. The sight of the girl she’d met earlier, wet, bedraggled, with tears streaming down her face, sent a chill deep into Devyn’s heart. She raced to the door and opened it, catching Rachel as she fell and setting her on one of the crowded long seats in the tour bus. “What happened?” She asked, and slowly coaxed Rachel out of her story.

When the tale was done, she sighed. “Look, sweetie, you can’t go home, right?”

“I…” Rachel faltered. “I can’t.” Devyn smiled as comfortingly as she could manage and put her arms around the younger girl.

“Well then…” Devyn continued “You’ll have to come with us. On tour.

“On… tour?” Rachel said, hopelessly repeating Devyn’s words.

“Yes. On tour. With us. You’ll ride in the tour bus, we’ll feed you.” Devyn smiled. “But first, you sleep. And try to forget what you saw. Remember this with the very core of your being: It isn’t your fault. And sleep.” Rachel nodded, and passively allowed herself to be carried off to one of the couches in the bus. Devyn sat beside her as the rest of the band began preparations to leave. They had a sound check in the next town the next day. “Just forget… It’s not your fault.” Devyn whispered. “Forget… forget… forget…” And Rachel did forget, for a time at least.

…

The sunlight drifted in through tinted, curtained windows, sending a flickering bar of light playing across Rachel’s face. She squoze her eyes tighter together, then blinked, opening them and turning her face away from the invasive light. She had been dreaming… dreaming… what? It took her a few moments to recognize that she was in a vehicle. It had seemed so natural, since she had slept and woken to the noise of the tourbus, but now as she looked around, she realized that her surroundings were entirely unfamiliar.

The seat she was lying on was covered in the sort of ugly, burnt orange and brown fabric that dated itself to around the 60’s or 70’s at the most recent. The curtains were newer, a fresh, bright, modern turquoise that seemed to be trying to redeem the past decorator’s bad taste.

As Rachel rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she took in the smells that had been floating around her consciousness since she had awoken. It smelled familiar… She couldn’t quite place it until a sausage egg muffin was set down next to her head. She picked it up and quickly recognized the unfamiliar elements to the smell. Jalapeno peppers… and cilantro? She bit into it without getting up. She was starving… after a few bites her mind finally registered that she was in a strange… bus? That she had never seen before.

She sat up and raised her head, finding her eyes meeting a pair even more strikingly blue. She blinked, and a decided blush accompanied the shocked expression. “Devyn?” She asked, to the rock star’s confusion and concern.

“You don’t remember?” She asked Rachel, who raised her eyebrows.

“Remember what?” She asked, looking around. “I’m… on a tour bus!”

“Our tour bus. In fact, you’re on tour. What do you remember?” She asked, motioning away the other members of the band, who had begun to gather in concern for the surprise guest. They had gotten the whole story out of Devyn while Rachel was sleeping: who she was, how they knew each other, the little bit Devyn knew, at least.

“Well… up to… the end of the concert… I don’t remember that clearly how I got home. I must have gotten home, right?” Devyn shook her head, making a sudden decision.

“We had a contest. After the concert, for those who waited for us after the show. It was a trivia game, and you won. The prize was getting to come on tour with us. You didn’t even go home to change, you told me your parents would hardly notice, and your friends would all be asleep. You could call them, if you want?” She paused. Rachel looked incredulous.

“Then why don’t I remember?” She asked, and Devyn sighed convincingly.

“You told me you could handle your liquor…” Devyn said, and Rachel sighed.

“I usually can. What did you give me?” She asked, then shook her head, a delighted grin lighting up her face. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Wow! I’m… really on tour with you guys?”

“Yeah, you sure are!”

“Am I like a roadie or something, then?” Rachel asked.

“Nope.” Devyn told her, straight faced. “You’re my personal sex slave.” She laughed when Rachel’s face turned tomato red.

“You better be nice to her, Devyn.” Bruce said. “You don’t want to scare her away.”

“Oh, fine… you’re just along for the ride, dear. Free and clear.” She smiled, and Rachel smiled back, the red fading to a mere touch of extra pinkness hanging around her cheeks.

“It’s a dream come true. I can’t believe I don’t remember this…” Rachel said, and Devyn smiled kindly.

“Don’t try too hard. I promise you the best is yet to come!” Devyn smiled.

The tour bus drove on for the rest of the day, time Rachel spent getting to know Tanya, mainly. While the summer sun was still high in the sky, they arrived in the new town and pulled up behind the venue, sneaking in the back door and running in to sound check. Though Devyn had said Rachel wasn’t a roadie, she still spent most of the day tuning guitars for the fun of it. She was in heaven, working with Devyn and Bruce’s treasures, each one a beautiful instrument. There was plenty to do for the band, and Rachel hardly saw them all day. The opening act was a local band called Marianna. They played folk rock catchy melodies, and were fairly beloved though they were still only well known in their hometown. Rachel met the lead singer, Marie, and liked her instantly. They spent half Tachycardia’s sound check working on chord progressions and finger picking.

Rachel, however, spent half the time walking through the empty venue, talking to security, hanging backstage, and generally doing everything she’d always wished for.

So… Eugene. Half the crowd had followed from the Portland shows, and was staying in local hostels, one of which the band had rooms reserved. All day, they ran into fans… when they were out for lunch, when they were checking in at the hostel, walking down the streets, everywhere. The venue they were playing at was called the McDonald Theater, and although it was similar in size to the Crystal Ballroom, it was not quite as nice, having unpleasant concrete floors instead of the Crystal Ballroom’s oh-so-fun floor built on springs.

Once, Rachel and her friends had gone to the McDonald Theater to see The Decemberists play, and it had been the night of their lives. The Tachycardia show there was sure to be amazing. They had slept in a hostel that night, too. The day after the show they had free to explore the town, and later that afternoon they would leave for their first show outside of Oregon. Then, the tour would really begin. They were headed to Leene, and were intensely excited. The band had only played in Oregon, mainly Portland, and occasionally Seattle, before. This tour would catapult them to new levels of success.

…

Devyn wasn’t hugely nervous. She had played in Eugene before, and the town was as welcoming as any place she had ever been to before. The crowds were always fresh and excited, unlike the hipster crowds of Portland who seemed to consider dancing and any signs of joy as against their religion. They would express their appreciation for the show only after having read a pitchfork review, and then, only then, would they write up a blog on the subject. They were a hard crowd to win over, however. Lately, though, they seemed to love her, Devyn thought.

Tachycardia was still in the middle of sound check, figuring out the exact balance of instruments and voice. Currently, they were working through a Simon and Garfunkel song, so they could use all the backup singers on harmonies and make sure that the balance was right. After a while, they switched to the round Hey Ho Nobody’s Home, and after that to the goddess chant. “Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inana!” Devyn sang, harmonizing an octave above Bruce, and just a little below Tanya’s ghostly vocals.

“It’s good!” She called to the wizards, and the rest of the band members echoed her sentiment.

“We’re ready.” Morgan said.

“Good!” Bruce said. “I think we need lunch!” Devyn nodded.

“Let’s go. There’s a pita place down the road, and I’m sure we can sneak out the back.” Devyn had never subscribed to the idea that she had to hole herself up in the venue and hide from her fans the day of the show. She preferred to play ninja and sneak out, if necessary.

She walked across the stage and hopped off deftly. There was no annoying barrier here, so she ended up directly in the audience area. She found Rachel sitting in the middle of the vast space composing melodies with Marie, and tapped her on the shoulder.

“You almost done, Rachel?” She asked, and smiled at the girl. She still wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing or not, but Rachel seemed happier not remembering that night. She had, of course, called the cops on her dad, the dirty bastard. Abusing his daughter when he already had so much? Sickening. She definitely didn’t want him walking the streets of her hometown. For now, it was better that Rachel be happy and safe, miles away from harm. At all costs she mustn’t go back. “We’re heading to lunch.”

“Marie?” Rachel asked. “You want some food?” Marie nodded. She was a sweet faced girl in her 20’s with a womanly figure and some of the longest, most flexible fingers Devyn had ever seen. She was an amazing guitarist and had the voice of an angel. She was rather wasted, Devyn thought, fronting Marianna. Their drummer wrote all of their songs, and he was mediocre at best. Not that the songs were cringe inducing. They simply didn’t stand out. Devyn wondered why Marie stuck with him in the first place. Possibly because he was her brother, She thought.

They struck out for the streets of Eugene, slipping out from the back and struggling through several backyards before reaching a street not directly connected to the venue. Not that Devyn minded being recognized. She loved it, in fact. It was simply that she enjoyed the thrill of hiding from the fans, of climbing through backyards, of sneaking about only to show up, unexplained, in a public restaurant less than a block from the venue.

“Hey!” She said, walking through the doors with Rachel and Marie trailing after her. They were mainly there as pack mules. Carrying food for two bands and all the hungry people that came along with them, the techies and roadies, the band’s manager, and some of the most friendly of the venue’s staff, was quite an ordeal.

Heads turned as the doors closed behind her. They probably would have turned even if Devyn wasn’t famous, she had that much presence stand there as the doors closed. Instantly, everyone in the place stood up and walked stiffly, shyly toward her.

“Can I have an autograph?” A dark haired girl wearing an old, faded rock and roll T-shirt asked her. Her shyness made sense. Some indie bands didn’t do things like autographs, and some of them were rather scary about it.

“Of course.” Devyn smiled, and Marie stood shyly behind her. It wasn’t long before she, too, was recognized.

…

Rachel found herself alone at the counter with a list of Pita orders. She had been asked for only a few autographs so far, those obviously from people who thought that she must have been a member of one of the bands since she hung out with them. The rest ignored her. Rachel handed the list to the chef who was taking the orders. He left to make their food, and Rachel realized that she had no idea how she was going to pay for all that food.

She tapped Devyn on the shoulder. “Um… Dev?” She asked, and the star finished signing her name on a poem she had made up on the spot.

“Yes, dearest?” She said, and leaned over to kiss Rachel on the cheek. Rachel turned bright red and the fans looked on in excitement. It was obvious what was going through their heads. Devyn has a girlfriend! Gossip, Gossip! I can’t wait to tell all my friends! Rachel sighed, the mystery explained.

“How am I supposed to pay for all this food?” Rachel asked, quite reasonably.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Devyn wrapped her arms around Rachel from behind, clearly enjoying the spectacle she was creating and the confusion poor Marie must be feeling right then. “I’ll work something out.” She said, cultivating Rachel’s panic by not mentioning that “something” was a stash of $5 bills she had collected from everyone who wanted something to eat.

“What do you mean, you’ll think of something?” Rachel asked, the panic evident in her voice a sure enough sign that Devyn’s entertainment.

“I mean that I surely will.” Devyn said. The fans were fidgeting. Soon, they’d offer to pay for the meal. The joke wouldn’t be good much longer.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t bring money?” It was a good thing that Rachel was following the script. It would have been frustrating to have to give up first.

“Of course I brought money. What kind of person do you think I am?” Devyn asked. Rachel sighed, momentarily calmed from her earlier panic. The cook looked relieved. It was a pretty big order.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Rachel asked, calming.

“That would have been no fun.” Devyn grinned maniacally. “It would have been quite boring, indeed.”

…

But we will leave them now, and will not be returning to this scene in the future except to perhaps remark upon its existence. We will instead continue on to the next day. We will also be speaking from the perspective of a character whose mind you have yet to enter. If you were wondering, the show went well, though I refuse to give you detail on each and every Tachycardia concert. If you wonder so much what their shows are like, then I would recommend that you go to one. However, this being a novel the only way you might possibly attend would be to write yourself into a fan fiction. I tell you, I refuse to write you into the story.

Tanya slept late the night of a show as often as she could. It was the only way she could possibly recuperate from a night of heavy physical workout. You can play the guitar quietly, the piano without rising from your seat. You can stand in one place and sing for hours. But drumming, proper drumming at least, requires effort and constant motion. But if Tanya loved one thing more than scandalized looks, it was rhythm. She loved her drum set like most people would love a child, though even the worst of mothers or fathers rarely beat on their children the way Tanya beat on that precious set of drums.

She was unhappy with anything but perfection, so she had gotten rhythm into her bones. She could keep a perfect beat without even thinking, but it had not always been so. It had taken training, tons of training to be at the level she was at. “She clicks like a clock.” The friend who had recommended her to the members of Tachycardia had said, but Tanya did everything but click.

After a night of drumming and antics and scandal, she always needed to sleep in. This morning, however, she had been woken up at eight ‘o fuck in the morning, and she was in a god awful bad mood. She was ready to tear a pig in half, but there didn’t appear to be a pig handy.

They were spending the day in Eugene, which was even smaller than Portland. The idea of a tour, to Tanya, had meant big cities. New York. Las Vegas. LA. The places she’d never played before. She was completely ready to move on to the exciting stuff. However, here they were, still in Oregon. The tour hadn’t really started yet. It seemed like half the audience was the same one as the last 2 nights.

She paused a minute to idly wonder if they had fans maniacal enough to follow them on tour. Probably not. They weren’t that famous yet. Someday, though, she imagined, there would be busses full of fanatics pitching tents outside of venues. Those days might have been long past, but to Tanya, it still seemed possible.

The band was strolling along the street in the bright sunshine. The road was lined on both sides with shops, though they hadn’t been into any yet. There was a vintage clothing store, a CD store with a poster of the Tachycardia concert in the window, and a video game store that Tanya had been dying to explore. As if to make her mood worse, the rest of the band had oh-so-cheerfully decided to keep walking.

Tanya didn’t understand why they had insisted on dragging her along. She wasn’t even that interesting, she thought to herself. Why had they needed her company? And more importantly, why had they thought they needed her company more than she needed her sleep? It simply wasn’t fair. She was nearly hit in the face by a door she hadn’t bothered to catch as the entire entourage went into a joke shop.

Her mood went up several points, if there is such a thing as mood points in the real world. Here, she could have some fun, she thought, browsing amusedly. After a few moments, she had found what she was looking for. A fake mustache. She held it up to the light, admiring the poor workmanship and wonderfully cheap price tag. The tag was bright green, and to her spendthrift eyes very beautiful. She snuck up to the counter and paid for her item.

“Gift wrap that, ma’am?” The clerk asked, and she shook her head, confused. It really wasn’t worth gift-wrapping. “Sorry.” The clerk explained, seeing her expression. “We’re required to ask.” She nodded, hardly paying attention to the man behind the counter as she set her eyes on her target, quietly opening the package and hiding it away in one of Rachel’s huge pockets.

She, of course, knew why Rachel was really along with them, why they were playacting this elaborate game. Devyn had a little crush. Well, so what? Ah, but one more person didn’t really matter, she reminded herself. Tanya wasn’t a jealous person, though usually she wouldn’t have let a complete stranger onto the tour bus. Especially this Rachel person. She seemed like a ditz hiding behind a world weary personality. People like that sickened Tanya, but she didn’t usually let herself judge this early in the game.

She was still planning her attack, though. Not one on Rachel, no. She had no nefarious plots to get the girl off the tour bus. I mean, seriously. She had just gone through a trauma, even if she didn’t remember. That had to make her delicate. And amnesia probably only weakened her mental state.

No, this attack was something much tamer. Her plan was to mustache Devyn without being caught. Okay, well maybe it wasn’t simple. But it wasn’t evil, either. Or at least… not that evil. She snuck up behind the woman who was slowly creating a dream come true for every member of the band.

Devyn was part of a tight knit group. All the better, it simply meant that Tanya could blend into the crowd. Some people in the joke shop had recognized the indie starlet, and were pestering her for autographs. “You got lucky, fools.” Tanya wanted to tell them. “If you really wanted autographs, you should have ambushed the band after the show as was proper procedure. But of course not. They were cold, they didn’t know, they were stupid and they just so happened to get lucky a day later.

An autograph was really just an excuse to approach anyone famous you happened to see walking down the street. What they really wanted was a scene, a story to tell their friends. And Tanya planned to give them one.

She crept up behind Devyn, and, with a deft hand, stuck the mustache to her upper lip. Within seconds, she was lost within the crowd. Devyn reached up and touched her lip, vaguely confused. “What… what the fuck?” She asked the assembled crowd. They were silent for a moment, and then one of the members reached up a shy hand and asked

“Can I have your mustache, ma’am?” Devyn nodded, but remained still, as the fan took a few shy steps forward and then, reaching up, pulled the mustache off, retreating back into the crowd with her prize clasped in her hand.

She was greeted by a chorus of “Can I see it?” and “Wow… did you really dare…” She ignored them, though, putting the mustache in her back pocket and shyly walking off.

And today, on the band’s first day of rest in a new town, we return to our intrepid cook/ guitarist. He stood behind the counter of a tiny space that could, by some stretch of the imagination. The hostel room they had been able to afford and had subsequently filled to the gills with people and sleeping bags full of more people had no kitchen of its own, of course, but downstairs there was a tiny space full of signs letting him know that no meat was allowed in that room at all.

He was doing his best to prepare road food for them with the vegan materials he had been able to buy. It wasn’t an easy task, as half the band were rampant carnivores and laughed at food that didn’t require some form of killing. They probably would have rather hunted the food themselves. But he knew that he could cook something for them, even in this tiny space with its dietary restrictions.

He had too. The band would probably kill him if they had to buy food on the road when they had a perfectly good cook with them. They never seemed to consider the fact that he had enough to do putting in long hours of guitar practice and taking over all of Devyn’s driving turns because she was terrifying and could not drive.

He was frying tofu with brewer’s yeast when Morgan returned, alone.

“You okay, man?” He asked. He had noticed that a lot of guys tended to say the word man a lot, and had tried to incorporate it into his speaking style, as much as he could manage. He wanted to seem like he was relaxed and happy, and so far almost everyone believed the act. Devyn knew him too well, but he wouldn’t give up her friendship even if she knew the truth. Sometimes he wondered if that meant he should tell her, but he always reminded himself that just because he would probably survive her knowing didn’t mean he wasn’t happier with everyone just wondering.

“Yeah. I took a wrong turn and Tanny’s got her cell off” Everyone knew that Tanya hated that nickname; so they took every chance they could get to use it when she wasn’t around.

“They didn’t even come looking for you?” Bruce asked, leaning against the counter while letting just enough of his sympathy show on his face. Not too much, never too much.

“No… I doubt they even noticed.” Morgan said, and his lonliness was apparent. Bruce longed to reach out to him, to tell his old friend that he was lonely too. But that could never be. No matter how long he had known a person, he could never allow them to start questioning his trustworthiness.

“Well, you know that lot. They’re so excited about the new tour that they find even Eugene exciting.” Bruce said, and Morgan looked a little cheerier, recognizing the truth in that statement. “Plus, today’s Saturday market. If you go there, they’ll show up eventually.

“Yeah…” Morgan said. “You know, I don’t think I’ll bother. Can I help you cook in any way?” Bruce nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve got veggies that need slicing.” He grinned. “If you want to cut things up, that is. Or I’ve got potatoes to mash. I’m working on a way to make them taste creamy without any dairy, but don’t tell the others. They’re my control group.”

“You know, a control group is actually the group you give a placebo to, you know. Like real, cream based mashed potatoes.” Morgan corrected. “They would be your test group, and you still need a control group.”

“Yeah, well, the kitchen’s vegan, so fuck off.” Bruce glared at him for a moment, then started to laugh.

“I’ll get started on those veggies. You’re a madman, you know?” Morgan said, and Bruce had to resist with every cell of his body the instant retaliation he felt coming on. Morgan hadn’t guessed. It was just a joke.

Madman… That’s what I am.