When the famous boyband, Rushed Division, begin to get into trouble with the press, it is up to Paisley to save the band's image before they do something they can't their careers cannot recover from.
Paisley is not a big fan of the band, finding th...
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Yay, another tour.
Screaming fans, spending a year on the road with my bandmates, insomnia and over-sleeping.
Can't wait.
I groan as I open the door, rolling my eyes when I see the private jet on the tarmac in front of me.
The sun beams down on it, giving an evil glow to the thing that is going to transport me to my hell.
The other three are already ahead, climbing to steps up to the cabin, leaving me to follow behind.
As soon as I enter, I notice the cream leather and mahogany accents, giving the illusion of luxury.
Tours are anything but luxury, in my eyes.
"Who's mutt is that?" I point to the dog curled up on one of the armchairs at the back.
"There's a dog on here?" Hudson asks all too excitedly.
I slum down in the nearest chair, already exhausted from his enthusiasm.
"Sorry, it's mine. Your manager told me it was fine to bring her, seeing as none of you have allergies or fears of dogs," a feminine English voice rings out.
Tyler sits in the seat next to me, whilst Hudson heads straight over to pet the dog. Blaze stands awkwardly in the aisle, almost unsure of what to do with himself, before finally opting for one of the chairs across the aisle from us.
"She's not ignoring you, she's just old and tired," I hear Paisley say.
I close my eyes, pressing my head back into the headrest.
Someone remind me to ask why she's on the plane with us.
"Alright, gentlemen," the pilot announces, forcing me to open my eyes to look at him, "Oh and lady, my apologies."
I roll my eyes again.
"We'll be up in the air in about twenty minutes. The flight to Brazil will take 11 hours and 50 minutes, so sit back and relax," the pilot says. He continues with the safety brief but I shut my mind off, closing my eyes in the hope of getting some sleep.
After twenty minutes of trying, the sound of the plane wheels running against the tarmac irritates every bone in my body, forcing me to put my noise-cancelling headphones in.
I turn on The Wombats and try to sleep, this time successfully.
Unfortunately, around five hours into the flight, I'm rudely awakened by Hudson. He kicks my foot, having obviously decided to annoyingly sit opposite me.
I pull my headphones off aggressively and raise my eyebrows at him to explain.
"We're running over the plan in Brazil so you need to wake up," Hudson smirks, knowing he's irritated me.
