Settings

Rock the Band

Page 20

   


I rolled over and I picked up my cell and searched out her number. I needed her voice to be the first thing that I heard in the mornings. It was our new morning call routine and it was one of the only things that kept me going.
It rang a couple times before Lane’s groggy voice answered. “Hey.”
“Hey, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Oh, no. I was awake.”
My brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m feeling a little sick again,” she answered.
“Are you having the same symptoms as before?” I questioned again.
“I wish.” She sighed. “I’m been sick to my stomach all morning.”
I rubbed some sleep from my eye. “You’ve been throwing up?”
“Yeah, but thank God I was able to bring Mom home after surgery last night. It would’ve been hell to feel like this at the hospital.”
I sat up in bed and then tossed my legs over the edge. “I’m coming down there.”
“Noel, you have shows to do.”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me and hopped out of bed. “To hell with the shows, Lane. You need me, I’m coming down.”
My suitcase was out on the bed before I even finished my last sentence.
“I’m fine, really.” She was trying to convince me, but I knew she needed me. Kathy needed help getting around after her surgery, and Lane wouldn’t be much help to her if she wasn’t a hundred percent herself.
“I’m taking the next flight in what ever city we’re closest to.”
“Noel—”
“No more arguing about this, Lane. I want to come. Please don’t fight me.” I threw some clothes in the bag and zipped it up.
“Okay.” I could hear the reluctance in her voice but pumped my fist anyway.
“I love you, and I’ll see you soon,” I told her before I ended our call.
I carried my luggage to the front of the bus and dropped it near the steps. Riff and Tyke sat at the table eating breakfast, while Trip stood at the island finishing up a bowl of cereal.
Riff eyeballed it before he turned his gaze on me. “What the fuck is that?”
I shrugged and knew this wasn’t going to go over well with the guys. “I have to go, man.”
“Go where?” Trip asked wiping milk from his lip after slurping down what was left in his bowl.
“He’s going to Texas to be with Lane,” Riff answered.
“What about the rest of our shows?” Tyke asked with a frown on his face.
“We’ll have to cancel or postpone them, I suppose.” All three of my band mates stared at me like I’d grown a third eye. “Guys I’m sorry, but she needs me for a week or so. Her mom broke her leg, and she’s sick. I have to go.”
Riff flexed his jaw muscle, clearly pissed at my decision. “Fine. If you want to disappoint all the fans because you’re being selfish—”
“Selfish? This is the first time in my life I’m thinking of others.” I met each one of their stares individually. “I love her, guys. I have to be there when she needs me. I would really appreciate a little understanding on this.”
After a couple tense moments of silence, Riff rubbed his chin. “I guess pushing back the dates a couple weeks wouldn’t kill anybody.” Trip and Tyke nodded in agreement. “I’ll work on having them change the dates. It won’t be easy, and will be a total pain in my ass, but I’ll do it. Go take care of things.”
A grin crept up on my face. “Thanks guys, I’ll owe you one.”
I instructed the bus to turn off at the next exit before I went back and to wake Kyle, who was still fast asleep in his foxhole to tell him I needed a ride. In just a few short hours, I would see Lane again. The thrill of it excited me more than the biggest rush of playing live music to thousands of screaming fans.
Four hours later, I landed in Houston and picked up my rental car. The solitary drive was a nice change. It was very rare now-a-days to be completely alone. The silence was welcomed.
When I pulled into the driveway of Lane’s childhood home, old memories of when we were in high school flooded me. I’d pull into this drive and honk my horn. Lane would come bouncing down the walkway and would hop in the passenger seat of my Chevelle. That was when life was simple.
I knocked on the front door, and Lane answered the door with a huge smile. “Hey!”
She was cheerful. A complete change from when I talked to her on the phone a few hours ago. “Feeling better?”
“Much! I don’t know what was wrong with me this morning. I couldn’t stop throwing up and every smell made me nauseous.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside with me, out of earshot of her mother. Alarms were going off like crazy in my head. “Do you think you’re pregnant? It’s been nearly four weeks since you saw that little munchkin looking doctor. It’s possible.”
Lane flinched. “No. I’m on birth control.”
“It’s not uncommon for birth control to fail if someone is on an antibiotic,” I told her.
She tilted her head and crunched her brow. “How would you know that?”
I shrugged and I felt my cheeks burn in my embarrassment. “I read up on pregnancies a lot when I thought I was going to be a father. As you know, there’s not much to do on that bus. A man can only stomach video games so long. Well, most men, anyway. The twins are addicted to them. So, I thought I would educate myself on babies.”