Miles Away

Chapter 11 - King For Days

Chapter 11
Jagger
King For Days

Tour life was awesome.

That’s all I could think about, aside from Ella of course. I heard sob stories from other bands about the lack of showers, the missing of the loved ones, and the lack of thrill when the setlists were the same day after day. I for one didn’t understand how those guys thought tour life sucked.

I spent my days doing press, photo shoots, sneaking in quick drinks, and then playing shows in front of thousands of kids night after night. Our fan base had increased beyond comprehension and I found myself getting lost in the different faces I’d see every night. When we played shows in the south, the accents with my lyrics made me grin. When we played the east coast shows, the familiar faces from hometown shows warmed my heart. I would stay at our merchandise tables after gigs and get so many compliments and hugs, it was almost overwhelming.

At the end of the night, we’d all huddle up and congratulate each other for a job well done, and celebrate with a little alcohol. Carson, like the father figure that he’d always been, always tried to moderate my intake, make asshole comments when he felt it was too much. I ignored him, playing stupid and suggesting that I was far from drunk and merely only tipsy.

I ignored anyone’s attempts at making my life turn to a negative road. I was living the life, feeling like a king everyday. Girls were throwing themselves at me, gushing about my looks, my voice, and my style. Guys would come up to me and say how much of a lyrical genius I’d become. With so many compliments being thrown at me, it was hard to not let it get to my head. But, I accepted the positive things coming my way, and ignored my band mates’ comments and Cooper’s annoying glaring stares at parties.

No one was going to take me down if I had a say in it. 

“Cheers for a great show for night number 23!” I screamed, thrusting my shot glass into the air, meeting the others’.

They shouted back in unison and downed the shot of whiskey we’d poured for ourselves. It was the beginning of the end of show ritual and I was simply ignoring Cooper at all costs at this point. He was on the leather bound sofa in the bus, talking into the receiver of his iPhone, writing some things down on a notepad and saying “Yes,” a lot. Every so often, the more shots I consumed, he would look up from his pad and pen and give me a fatherly glare. His cold, grey eyes traveled back and forth from the glass to me. I only shrugged in response and let him continue with his management issues.

“Thank you, I’ll call you back in a week,” I heard him state. He tapped the screen to end the call and folded the notepad back in place. He shook out his limbs and wound his neck around his shoulders a few times before taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. This, I noted, was what he always did when he was frustrated.

“Tough day, boss?” I grinned sloppily. I felt the alcohol burning a warm path through my bloodstream, making me feel like a bigger king that I already did.

I sat beside him and threw an arm around him, leaning against the back of the sofa. The guys were clinking more glasses and shouting vulgar words. Matty, the immediate shy one, was drinking a can of beer by himself, tapping his nervous foot against the tile of the flooring.

Cooper looked over at me with hard eyes and I knew I was about to get it. “Just another day for a manager. How much have you had to drink, Jag?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily as I got up from the couch and made my way over to my laptop on the opposite couch. “Not this again.”

“what?” he questioned, placing the notepad down next to him and standing up to take his place in front of me. “I’m not giving you ‘shit’, Jagger. This is your life I’m looking out for.”