Back At One - All Bad Sequel

3. Don't Wanna Know

Maybe she'd moved on and was in a new relationship. I couldn't blame her if she has. I was the one who decided I couldn't get over what she did and left her. It still hurt to think that she may have moved on or worse yet, had moved on with the guy she cheated on me with.

I followed Mikey into a park that wasn't too far from the hotel where I let Esther run around for a while.  It was easier to move around in Europe because I feel like people aren't tracking my every movement or maybe they are and are just a lot more polite about it. I wasn't sure.

As I watched Mikey play catch with Esther my mind drifted back to thoughts of Brie. I mean, things could be worse. She could have replied telling me that she hated me and to fuck off. Maybe Mikey was right. Maybe I should try calling her.

By the time I got back to the hotel where I was meeting the reporter for my interview, I needed another cigarette, so Mikey and I stood outside in the blinding midday sun where a crowd of fans had already gathered. Three girls with their phones in their hands came up to me and asked for pictures which I agreed to. I know I said no photos but I actually didn't mind once they weren't shoving their phones in my face and being rude. I didn't think they realized that I would much rather have a conversation with them than just take a photo. I really enjoy meeting and talking to them and don't mind the photos but I like to think that I leave them with a memory instead of just a photo.

"We need to get you a disguise, JB," Mikey said jokingly, after the girls, giggling with excitement, fluttered away. Then, as if on cue, a photographer appeared. You can't stand in front of a high-end hotel for more than three minutes before the paps show up. After the first flash went off, Mikey shoved one hand in front of the guy's lens, and another in front of my face to get him out of the way.

After Mikey ushered me inside, I met up with Scooter who started prepping me for the interview.

"The reporter's name is Lucy Potter. She seems nice, not like the gossip hungry types you hate. She's young. Not younger than you, but early twenties, I think. She used to write for a blog before she started at this magazine."

"Which magazine is it?" I interrupted. Scooter rarely gave me detailed rundowns on reporters unless there's something he needed me to know.

"Not sure. Maybe Vagabond Magazine. I think it is."

I just nodded.

"It's a small Swedish magazine but this interview is the cover exclusive. They'll mostly want info on how the tour is going and if you are working on any new music."

At the mere mention of the tour, I felt my throat start to close up. I love performing but ninety-nine per cent of touring is the airports, the hotels and sitting in a metal tube for up to 16 hours at a time. The tour is one hundred and thirty six nights in total with fifty-seven nights left. Just fifty seven I repeated. I mentally patted for my pill bottle and grew calmer knowing that it was there, but I knew better than to sneak one in front of Lucy.

It's only fifty seven nights. I tried to rationalize it. Fifty seven nights is nothing. I tried to divide up the number, to break it up, to do something to make it smaller, but nothing divides evenly into fifty seven. It's twenty nine countries; thirty eight cities, a few hundred hours on a plane. But the math just made my head spin and I started to feel dizzy.

By the time the interview was over, I couldn't remember half of what I said. I just needed a minute to think before I lost my mind. I thought about how comforting just the sound of Brie's voice used to be. Being on tour has made me miss her even more. The dreams had become more frequent and I found myself thinking about her most days. Sometimes I swear I see her standing in the crowd while I'm performing but I guess it was just me being delusional.

Scooter turned to me before he left the hotel. "Look, man, I think you just need some time to chill. So, listen, I'm gonna let you chill out till sound check. We don't need you till around 4." He glanced at his phone. "That's just a couple hours to do whatever you want to. I promise you, you'll feel so much better. Just go be free."

Scooter looked at me with calculated concern. He was my friend, but I was also his responsibility. He'd been with me since the beginning of my career and I was grateful that he could tell when I needed a break from it all without me having to say so.

I accepted his offer, even as I downplayed his generosity by shrugging and responding with an, "Okay."

"Cool. You clear your head. I'll leave you alone, won't even call. Want me to pick you up later to head to the venue?"

I'll meet you there," I told him.

"Okay then. I'll order you a car for half three. Until then, just try to chill." He gave me a half handshake, half hug and then he was inside the cab, zooming off to his next order of business.

I made my way to my hotel room. I took a shower, thought about going back to sleep. But these days, whenever I tried to sleep, I was haunted by dreams of Brie.

I decided to check my iPhone. There were fifteen missed calls, twenty text messages and twelve new voice mails, none of which were from Brie.

I locked my phone and suddenly there she was. Her eyes were still there, still staring at me. And I just knew with as much certainty as I knew anything in this world that I needed to see her again. Is it crazy that the picture we took in her room that night I went to her house after her grandma died is still saved as my lock screen display? I knew even before I even had time to think about it that I needed to go see her. Take a chance and let her know that I was over it and that I still loved her and just wanted to be with her.

Before I knew what I was doing, before I could talk myself out of it, rationalize what a terrible idea it was, I organized a flight back to LA after the show. I just wanted to see her, I told myself. I only wanted to hear her voice. I was miserable without her and had been lying to myself these past few months thinking I could live without her.

I felt just as I did that night we first met at Opera night club, I felt this mad rush of anticipation and fear. Fear because I didn't know what would happen next and just as I did that night, I was gonna take a chance on her.

This time I knew I wasn't going to walk away, not like I did that night I left her six months, eight days, twelve hours ago. She was the only girl for me. I just hoped it wasn't too late.

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Hey guys, hope you liked this update. I mean, I'm not too sure about it but I know what I want to happen in the story but you can totally comment and let me know what you think.

I would love you guys feedback on what you think might/should happen. I don't want this sequel to flop so I'm counting on you to give me feedback cause I don't want you to stop reading. I have the next chapter ready to go so if you want it just vote and I will give u guys a double update this week.

The last update didn't get as much votes so I'm not sure if you like this story still or nah... so please vote and comment and let me know what you think.

Thank you so much for reading ❤️