We Don't Have To Dance

Chapter Twelve

"Hey Andy" I sigh, it's just a voicemail, because he is too busy apparently to answer my calls "I um, was wondering if you ever picked up my car. Of course you don't have to, but you told me you might. If you do, I also left you my house keys, so like, could you make sure no one robs the place?" I laugh a bit "I almost wish I wouldn't have bought... I mean how often am I even gonna be there? All I ever do anymore I Tour, and when I'm not doing that I'm modeling... sorry to bother you- your probably not gonna listen to this. Love you bye"

I hangup the phone feeling empty. How is it that I have everything I could ever want, and I'm still unhappy? Maybe it's because my family hates me... but maybe I don't really care. My mom walked out on us so I guess that still gets to me, and now that she's back I'm just not super enthusiastic. Dad took her side when she told me to leave. So what do they want from me? I only want to stay if they want me to stay. I only want to do whatever they want me to. Maybe my thing is I always make other people happy... but really after tour maybe I should just focus on myself.

Night after night we preform, and it just becomes routine. There's no spice, no partying, until eventually I decide.

"I get you retired druggies can't do nothing, but I have a mother fucking bong in my suitcase!" I announce "And I'm finna actually have fun"

I want to my suitcase, then we all go in the back room. We get hella fucked up, then when we're done we fuck around in the bus. I smile, genuinely, as we all dance around. Forgetting about Max, about Cole, about all the problems, and take a moment to realize. This is everything I ever wanted, so many people would kill to have what I have; I'm a famous musician, and model, I'm gorgeous, good body. I need to be more grateful.

"Man" I put my arm around Lyric "Your my best friend"

"Your my best friend" her eyes glisten "Let's go get tattoos!"

"With fucking Mexican aids needles?" Brandon slurs and we all laugh

"Why not!" I cheer

"Fuck it"

We pull over the bus, and go into what looks like a legit tattoo parlor.

"How much longer are you guys open for?" I ask, smiling

"Me no hablo ingles" we're more central Mexico now, so this isn't a surprise

"Abierto para ¿cuanto tiempo más?" She looks surprised and huffs

"We close at eleven"

"So you can speak English" I smile

"Yeah yeah, fucking white people" she rolls her eyes

"Actually I know I'm pretty white looking, but grandpa is ninety eight percent"

"Really?" She furrows her eyebrows

"Yeah" I smile "He doesn't speak much English" I lie "So I know a fair amount of Spanish"

"That's cool" She smiles, "So what can I get for you guys?"

I'm high as fuck, and trying not to slur, "Can I get a..." I think for a minute

"I have some sketches" she smiles

"May we see them?"

"Of course honey!"

"Thank you, I love your eyebrows by the way"

She blushes, "Thank you!"

When she gets out the book we all look for small pieces... well at least I do. Lyric gets tattooed up with a huge side thigh piece; which is actually gorgeous. It's like a garden with stain glass windows and shit. Grim gets a solder piece of a bar scene. Brandon reasonably gets a collar bone tattoo, that goes across his chest, it says Dying To Live, in really ducking fancy, cool writing. As for me, on my left collar bone, I get cartoony white Daisy's with the yellow center inside. Four of them, attached by a thin green line, with little -not leaves- but over lapping lines falling to the edges, and at the end of the chains there's swirl patterns. Mine only takes fifteen minutes, while everyone else's takes way longer.