Chapter 69: Panic Attack

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        "The number you are trying to reach, Eight, one, nine, seven, six, five, four is unavailable right now. Please leave your name and number after the tone, and we will return your call."

        The automatic voice for the answering machine seemed so drone, and emotionless. For some reason, it made me feel less connected and further away than I was before. Like I was alone, and I didn't have anything but the cold voice of a fake woman asking me to leave a message.

        I swallowed, leaning back in the lawn chair. I pressed my palm into the top of my eyes, rubbing roughly against my skin. It was humid and hot out again today, like it had been the entire week and a half I've been on tour with the guys.

        "Hi Dad, it's just me, Stella -- calling again," I felt stupid for calling so many times. I knew he wouldn't answer until I apologized, but I wasn't ready for that just yet. I wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice and know that he cares. I know that he wants to take care of me, and wants me to be safe, but he won't give in before me. I get my stubbornness from him, and it was something that I always loved until at this exact moment. It's the only thing that we've ever disagreed about before, our first fight. "I just want you to know that we got to North Carolina safely. It's hot as hell here, it reminds me of Georgia," I laughed to myself, like it was actually funny. "Well, just call me when you get the chance. Love you, bye."

        My voice faded at the end of the call and when I pulled the phone away from my ear to hit the red end button. Vinny was looking at me from his position on the ground. His back was against the legs of the merch table in front of him. He was avoiding the heat as much as he could, and since I stole his chair after setting up, he planted his butt on the ground, and in the shade.

        "What?" I asked him, watching as his eyes followed me under his aviators. The scruff of his beard was moving with the contortion of his mouth, an unhappy expression sitting on his face. He fixed his LA hat on his head, biting the inside of his lip.

        "Still trying to get in touch with the old man?" he asked, pulling a water bottle to his lips. I sighed in defeat, nodding weakly and leaning my chin in my palm. I rested my elbow on the top of my thigh, crushed. Vinny was sure to notice that something was wrong with the relationship with my dad. I made these phone calls after we set up every single day. It was the only time I ever really had to myself and that's when my mind was consumed with the guilt that I had. He had to listen to every miserable voicemail that I left. I'm sure I looked pathetic.

        "It's sort of a really long story," I mumbled, running my hands over my face again. The sweat on my hair line was grossing me out. But it was something I was getting used to. My hair was always up in a pony-tail or bun. Sometimes I even braided or twisted my bangs into updo's if I wasn't too lazy. But today they just fell acros my face, held back with a bobby pin.

        "Sounds like it," Vinny gave me a sympathetic smile, like he knew I didn't want to talk about it. I was happy that he wasn't pushy. Even with Alex and Jack, they could really nudge me to tell them what was wrong. But with Rian, Zack, and Vinny, they never pried for answers. Probably because they didn't know me as well, or they knew personal space, unlike Jack. In any case, they were a set of friends that were simple to have, and I liked it that way.

        Kara had disappeared for the bathroom wen we finished setting up. I'm sure she was already with the guys. I spent some time with Alex before the show, but Vinny needed help with the crowd, so I would go over when it calmed down. I sat in a comfortable silence with Vinny, selling shirts to the girls that appeared. It seemed like that at every gig, more people showed up. Like the crowds were getting bigger for the boys. There were crowds when we were setting up the tent, and we've already sold over fifty items within the first hour of opening.

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