Frustration -SERIES- [Part 2] Headphones & Reveries [boyxboy]

Chapter Ten

We spent two days total in Seattle; one full day of press for the band, plus another half day of press and the concert that night. As we settled back into the bus the following morning, ready for the three hour drive north to Canada, the musicians among us were grumbling.

'I'm thinking we just send a bullet-pointed letter to each of the publications that are set to interview us,' Philip was complaining. 'One: no, we don't know when the next album is coming out yet. Two: yes, we're working on new material. Three: Conor does most of the songwriting. Four: yes the rest of us help. Five: yes, Sally is very pretty and yes, we do see her like a sister. Six: American fans are great, we're very lucky to have them. Seven: touring here is awesome, thanks for having us. Eight: yes, we're really looking forward to tonight's show. Nine: sorry, we can't answer any questions about Tyler Lincoln. And ten: thanks, it was nice to meet you too.'

'If I get asked one more fucking sexist question about what you all think of how long it takes me to do my hair and make-up I'll scream,' Sally muttered.

'Just tell them it takes the rest of us way longer because we haven't had as much practice,' Tarquin advised her.

'Yeah, you should get really into it,' Daniel said enthusiastically. '"It actually takes way longer because I have to help them with their make up,"' he pretended to quote. '"Philip has no idea whether he is an autumn or a winter and Conor has the worst trouble picking out lipstick shades that go with his skin tone.'"

Sally laughed. 'They would print that as a pull quote in huge pink text right next to pictures of the two of you, and I would fucking rip it from the magazine and frame that shit.'

'I really wish I could print this conversation,' Jackson muttered to me from where we were sitting a little further down in the bus.

'You could paraphrase,' I suggested. 'Just take the make up bit. Blow it up into a pull quote like Sally wants and gift a framed copy to her.'

'There's an idea,' he joked, nudging me.

'How is all that going anyway? Was your editor happy with the first article? It's going to press today, right?'

Jackson nodded. 'Pretty happy. She loved the article itself, and she's really happy with how "intimate" I am with the band,' he added.

'But?'

He shrugged. 'Nothing.'

'Come on,' I said, elbowing him. 'Tell me.'

'It's not a big deal.'

'Dude.'

He rolled his eyes. 'I could be a better photographer.'

'What does she mean by that?' I knew Jackson had to submit a handful of candid polaroid shots for the magazine to scan and include with each article; they were really going for the whole old-school, rock-star, on-the-road lifestyle vibe.

He shrugged again. 'Not sure. That was all she said.'

I laughed. 'That sounds really passive aggressive.'

'She's just busy. It's my job to figure out what she means and deliver it. I wonder if she'd accept a little text box where each of the photos are supposed to be, with just a really detailed description of what was happening in the shot. That, I can do.'

I laughed again. 'Well if you like, I can take the pictures for you.'

'Seriously?' he asked, turning to look at me properly.

I nodded. I hadn't expected him to want to take me up on it, but it wasn't exactly a huge commitment on my part.

'You're sure you don't mind?'