HEADLINE ✓

TRACK 21

With (NO) love, Tyler-Jane Roberts

"Alright, let's go over our schedule for the next week," Hank announced, standing at the front of the bus. "You guys will get your two days off. I suggest you actually use that time wisely and rest up. But, I am aware of who I'm speaking with so just do your best to not end up in jail or a ditch." He flipped the page of his day planner. "Then we have to film the performance for Rock Magazine. I shouldn't have to tell you how big of a deal landing the cover story is, but apparently, the four of you need a reminder. Now, I think it would be best for us to tease an unreleased song. I know we have a few that we partially recorded. Are they finished yet?"

"Maybe they would be if someone would let us fucking sing them."

My head snapped up hearing Silas's remark. "Oh, would you stop it already?"

"No. Those songs are good."

"Not good enough," I muttered, averting my eyes back towards the window.

"You're being selfish."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm the anger boiling inside. Silas continued with his remarks about me. I knew he was pissed off that I kept discarding every new song or idea I wrote. Sila didn't know why I couldn't finish those songs; why I didn't want to sing about him. And not knowing only pissed my brother off more.

"Si, knock it off, man," Weston said.

"Why? We've all been talking about it the past few weeks. Everyone else is just too fucking scared of her to say anything."

I turned back around. Weston, who sat next to me on my left, was glaring across at Silas. Patrick and Gwen were cuddled up next to each other, and like always, were doing their best to stay out of things. Hank remained standing and crossed his arms over his chest, observing. He never intervened right away - it's better to get it out, he would tell us. And usually, that was the case. Fighting was not a common thing for us - when it happened, it was usually over something petty. A few jabs and remarks here and there, and then it was over. This argument, however, felt deeper than all the others.

"You guys have nightly meetings where you all talk about me behind my back? How nice."

Weston sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not like that, Teej."

"Really?" I scoffed. "Because that's exactly what it sounds like."

"Would you stop being such a bitch right now?"

My eyes narrowed. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said, would you stop being a bitch right now," Silas spat. "We have our biggest opportunity yet to get national coverage for our band and show off how fucking talented we are. They want an unreleased song, but you scrap everything we like. You realize you're jeopardizing the band right?"

It wasn't the fact that he called me a bitch that made my blood boil; I expected something much worse. It was the fact that he accused me of jeopardizing the band. After everything I had done and everything - or, to be specific, everyone - I had given up to ensure no one tried to mess with our success, the last thing I was trying to do was to hurt our band. It was the accusation that made me grab the nearest item - which in this case, happened to be a plastic water bottle - and throw it, as hard as I possibly could, right at his head.

Silas ducked just in time, causing the bottle to collide with the window of the tour bus. "Are you fucking insane? You almost hit me!"

"That was the point, dumbass!"