All The Mixed Feelings (Van McCann)

Part 48

Van

America was amazing. We played small shows but they were packed out every time, the fans queued around the block to get front row and were so dedicated, the same faces popping up night after night as they followed us from state to state.

I tried to keep my head straight, concentrating on giving it my all on stage, meeting the fans after and being polite, just the right level of flirting to make the girls blush without overstepping the mark. It was certainly an ego-boost, but I didn't want it to go to my head. I'd learnt my lesson from picking up Ally. As Dave kept reminding us, we weren't just five guys dicking about driving ourselves around the pub-circuit anymore, we were a real band and our image was important. We had a responsibility to our fans.

And of course there was Abby... she was never far from my mind, if I'd catch sight of a pair of green eyes in the crowd, or when I'd sing certain lyrics I'd close my eyes and picture her shy smile.

It crushed me to think of her with Chris, the worries of how he might be treating her playing on my mind in the early hours of the morning. I tried to find solace in the few snippets of conversation I'd overheard when Bob had come off the phone to Michelle and one of the guys would ask how Abby was doing. The answer was always the same, she was good and she was happy. They spoke about Chris like he wasn't even part of her life any more, but I knew better. He had a hold on her and would never let her go.

No one really spoke to me about Abby apart from Larry. I suppose the way I skulked around, feigning disinterest when she was the topic of conversation spoke volumes. They thought I didn't care, and that was the way I liked it. I preferred to carry on with this charade on my own, lying awake at night, wondering if she ever thought about me.

* * * * *

We were relaxing on the tour bus after a busy few days playing shows in Portland and Seattle, and making our way across country to Denver.
Benji and Larry were focussed on a furious FIFA competition, each round getting more and more competitive. Bob had his head buried in a book and Johnny and I were having a jam, messing around with riffs to some lyrics I'd written that would probably never develop into anything worth recording. I needed to write new material, but I'd felt devoid of any meaningful inspiration since I'd written Rango.

"Why don't you play that new one Van?" Larry called out, as he stopped playing to flick on the kettle.

"Huh?" I craned my neck round to face him.

"You know, I hear you singing it all the time," he said, slight frown on his face, then he cracked into a grin as he sang, his voice off-key and flat. "Darling I'm done for once..."

On hearing the lyrics I grabbed a cushion from the chair and launched it across the bus, and it caught Larry square in the face. "Shut up, it's not ready yet!" I shouted.

"Yeah pipe down Larry, sounds like a cat getting strangled!" Benji teased.

"If you got some new stuff we should work on it," Johnny said keenly, sitting upright in his seat, grasping his guitar. "We got some studio time when we get to Denver. It's about time we got some new material down."

"I've been working on something," I admitted, "but its very much a work in progress, not even got all the lyrics right yet."

"But I hear you singing it every night. When the others are in the bunks you're down the back playing it."

Larry really didn't know when to quit. He knew the song was about Abby and I wasn't ready to share it yet.

"I said it's not ready," I raised my voice, glaring at him. "Give it a rest."