Rye

What the fuck was that? I ask myself as I make my way back to the bus. How can she be into me, and then be so cozy with the guard? I guess I thought she was different, but I shouldn't have. She is her father's daughter. Why would she be into the drummer when she can have a man that will have a secure future and no groupies? Well, I'm my father's son as well.

Me: You still want to come to the show?

Tinsley: Yes!

Me: Ok. I'll figure out how to get you in.

Me: Can you get here?

Tinsley: I think so.

The perk of having an actress as a "girlfriend" is her access to private flights. She might not make it to the opening band, but if she rushes, she can get here before the concert is over.

Tinsley: Can you send a car? I'll be there around 9:45pm?

Me: Yes. Give me the details.

I spend the next hour arranging for Tinsley to be picked up from a private jet and escorted to the show. She will be able to watch and then hang out with me at the hotel after. We leave tomorrow for Idaho. Tinsley spends the next hour posting easter egg-like posts about traveling while using the band's music as the background tune. She never misses an opportunity to promote herself.

By the time I step on stage, I'm determined to get through the show and move on from the idea of Launi. It was fun. It was dangerous. That's all. My brain loved the risk, and my body needed her touch, but now I have to focus.

It's almost as if I blacked out the entire set. I vaguely remember seeing Tinsley in the front with security and then taking pictures with some fans in the crowd. It all feels like a big machine. I do for you, and you do for me and I wonder if my dad ever felt that way. I never considered it. At many points along his journey to fame, he had to have been faced with these situations. Moments where he chose the fame and money over what was probably best for his sanity. I forget that sometimes, that he is human and wasn't always the rockstar god people see him as.

When I leave the stage, I feel horrible. I'm tired and emotionally fucked up. I've thought of my dad, and a handful of memories before everything seemed to fade out and I don't remember how I got to Baby Girl in the encore, but somehow, I had. Tinsley is being brought backstage, and I wait for her, eager to get away from this night and get back to the hotel for some rest.

"Hey Baby," she says, filming herself as she greets me.

I make an effort to fix my facial expression. I soften it, smiling and trying to relax the tension I feel in my brow.

"Hey Love," I answer back. I scoop her up with one arm and spin her around. Girls love that. For all the talk about being strong and independent, there's something about a man literally sweeping them off their feet they can't seem to get enough of. I know this so I use this to my advantage.

She cuts the video, and I set her down. She's already typing out a caption to post it. Her eyes not on me, but the screen in her palms.

"Let me say goodbye to the guys and we'll head back to the hotel," I tell her.

She's too busy posting to answer, but I leave her and make my rounds shaking hands and saying goodbye. If I didn't have her with me, I'm sure I'd get pressure to hang out and party, but the band guys assume I'm heading back to the hotel to smash my movie star "girlfriend" and they leave me alone. This arrangement might not be so terrible after all. Tonight, I can get a good night's rest instead of staying up until sunrise with them drinking and telling old stories.

I help her into the SUV and climb in after. I want nothing more than to take a shower and lay down in bed. I don't even want to eat. I'm tired on such a deep level.

"I leave tomorrow morning," Tinsley says from beside me.

I nod.

"What should we do tonight?" she asks. "Want to grab dinner in town?" She begins searching places on her phone.
"Not really," I say.

"Oh," she smiles, setting her phone down on her lap. "Room service?" she asks coyly.

This is one of those moments. I can be honest with her and tell her that my head is messed up right now and my ego is bruised. I didn't think Launi and I were going to ride off into the sunset together, but I also didn't think I was so easily interchangeable with other men. Ouch. As I'm about to tell her everything, my mouth closes. It's not her business. What happened between Launi and I is private and I don't need her telling anyone anything about my life. It was sex. Great sex. The best sex even, but apparently it was just sex. Got it.

"Sure," I say. "Room service is perfect." I let my hand rest on her thigh the rest of the ride. Outside the window, the city lights flicker, and regular life plays out. But inside this car, there's an alternative reality. One that has shallow roots. It is also one that I can't trust. Everyone has a motive, and I need to remember that. Maybe Tinsley really cares about me, or maybe she's here for PR. Either way, she's here and Launi isn't. It doesn't get past me that I'm jealous. What's most incredible about that gross feeling I hate isn't that I'm jealous of the guard she is spending time with, but that they might have something real. For them, the future is open to the possibility of a life together outside of clicks on social media or numbers on a chart. I'm jealous that he can have her and she can have him all to themselves without an audience.