BloodLust // yungblud fanfic

Chapter 9

Sean drove her to the hotel late the next afternoon. Dylan was working — one of his bands were playing a show that night, and he was helping them with set up. She could have taken a cab, but Sean offered, and she wasn't opposed to the moral support.

They drove most of the way in silence, down Santa Monica Boulevard past the restaurants and palm trees, the mountains rising in the distance. Holly leaned her head against the passenger side window and thought about what she had gotten herself into.

"Are you excited?" Sean asked finally, waiting at a red light.

"I guess." Holly said. "I mean— the money will be nice. Being on stage again will be nice."

"But?" Sean asked.

She shrugged, slumping down further in her seat. The air conditioning in Sean's car was broken again, and her tank top stuck to the small of her back. "Band drama. Their drummer... i met him yesterday. He's on drugs, i think. The old guitarist quit because of it." She had read every interview with the band she could get her hands on. It was a classic story: Michael and Dom lived in the same dorm their freshman year at college and decided to start a band. They recruited Adam and Tom through their connections in high school and started playing local shows. Within a year, they had released their first album and gotten enough buzz for a record deal. Their second album produced a minor alt-radio hit and sold decently, and their third album went supernova. The interviews made them sound like a close-knit group of good friends, which was mostly true, but didn't seem to be the case anymore. Band drama. Things fell apart.

Sean sighed and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "We've been there before."

"It's going to be a shit show." Holly tried to smooth out an uneven crease dried into the hem of her shirt.

"But you agreed," Sean said. He glanced at her, and then the light turned green and he accelerated, eyes on the road once more.

"Masochism, i guess," Holly said. "Or— i don't know. I missed it. Playing music. Being on stage. Does that sound stupid? It's not like i'm, you know, desperate for the audience to adore me or whatever—"

"No, i know," Sean said. "I know what you mean. I'm surprised it took you this long, to be honest. You were always... Look. For the rest of us, being in a band was a thing we did for a while. It was awesome, don't get me wrong. We had a lot of fun. We did some seriously cool shit. But when it was over, we were all okay with it, you know? It was time. We were ready to move on to the next thing. But for you— Holly, there's nothing in this world you were meant to do except make music."

That was a long speech for Sean, whose usual conversational style consisted of dry one liners. "Am i really that transparent?"

He laughed. "I've known you for a long time, that's all." He reached over and patted her leg. "It's only a month. Even if the drummer is one hundred percent bananas, i think you can probably hang tough for that long."

"You're right," she said, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

The tour buses were parked in a lot beside the hotel: two of them, huge and shiny. Sean pulled into the lot and parked his car. A couple of guys were loitering beside one of the buses, smoking cigarettes, and they glanced in the direction of the car before looking away again, bored or pretending to be. Holly didn't recognize them. Roadies, probably.

She got out of the car. It was hot and bright, the sun a yellow disk edging towards the horizon. Sean popped the trunk, and Holly hauled out her duffel and threadbare backpack, veterans of half a dozen tours, and her guitar in its beat up case.

"You'll do great, kid," Sean said, pulling her into a rough hug. "Don't forget to call home. You know Dylan worries."

"I'm a big girl," Holly said, a little nettled. "Dylan needs to find a hobby."