To the Beat of My Heart

Withered Little Sparks

First class, baby, and we deserve it!

Call it a treat after a killer run of shows. Not that we couldn't afford it like every other time, but mostly we stick to business. Seats aren't as nice, and you don't get as much special treatment. It's all needlessly lavish and Clay and I mock it, but it is fucking brilliant, all things considered. First thing I did was order a banana milkshake. That kept me happy for a while. Slept like a baby, woke up to Clay showing me a meme on his phone, kicked my legs out, ordered a whiskey and slept again. When I start awake, I keep myself up. Gotta condition my body for the UK. I sip at my whiskey and stare out at an impossibly large stretch of blue. Another fifteen hours but then we're home. God, I need that.

Best part... A sleeping Clay to my left, then Jaz, and beyond her, a total stranger. No more Kai. Good riddance!

Until... July... when we meet at the O2 arena in London to kick off the European leg. And we're stuck with him... for another three months. Technically, we're still in Europe, right? Nothing's... gone buggered and topsy-turvy.

Speaking of... I'm thankful for the break in routine, but Ansel is our mate and deserves... no, fucking has to be there with us. I've got two months to sort his shit out. Easy.

I close my eyes and smile at Clay's snoring beside me. My stomach is tingly from the whiskey and I'm giddy at the thought that when I wake up, I'll be able to see mum, and the girls, and Chelsea. To come home to family.

***

We hurry through customs and baggage, keeping close, just the three of us now, the inseparable pair and the ever-reliable Jaz. The British bunch. Most of our crew we picked up in the US, but we'll lose a lot of them for the European replacements.

Clay's donning a weak-ass disguise of sunglasses and a fluffy aviator hat, but it's grey outside and he ditches the shades pretty quickly. All it takes is one eagle-eyed fan, a high-pitched squeal, and before you know it, there's a scene on our hands. Not so bad on planes, especially when we're isolated in business or first class, but they can spring from absolutely anywhere at any time. You can't always keep your eyes open. So I close mine, safe in the knowledge that—

A girl screams, a pitch that shatters eardrums. Clay covers his ears, grimacing, but that quickly dissolves into pink cheeks and a guilty grin.

Oh look, a scene! Just brilliant!

***

I cling to Clay and shiver against him while taxis and Ubers fill in and out of the taxi bay. The airport is a familiar environment, but I can't shake the feeling that this is home turf, that our old lives are a handful of miles, as opposed to several hundred. Canada was snowy, so pretty goddamn cold, but there's something comforting about the British chill that permeates through your bones. I wriggle my toes and breath out misty air.

Clay takes out his cigarettes and hands them to me.

"Best not," he says. "don't need shit from mum."

I pocket them as Jaz returns with a coffee and asks again if we're sure we don't want one. Clay hums and shakes his head, and I echo the sentiment. Caffeine's a drug that's in a losing battle here. I need a long lie-down, then a long-ass bath, and nothing on my schedule for a month!

"God, it's bizarre," Jaz exclaims, one arm squeezed against her chest, the other cradling her coffee to her lips. She watches out for our Ubers. She lives in the opposite direction of us, so this is the last we'll see of each other for a good while. "Touring has been my life for years. Being out of work and having all this free time... it never feels right. No... five-am wakeups, inventory screwups, booking complications... security freaks."