The aesthetic of New York is something that I haven't gotten used to yet. I know, I know, "But Lia, isn't it just a city full of tourists and locals that make fun of the tourists?" Well yeah, but there is much more to it. When you see pictures of New York on Pinterest there is a reason why people dream to travel to somewhere so local instead of saving up to go to a foreign location like Paris, London, or Italy. As soon as you enter the busy roads and covered sidewalks of this city, your perspective of life changes. You are a stranger in a city of millions of people with a dream. A dream to be something bigger, like the people you see on the billboards scattered around Times Square. I won't lie to you; I am a victim of falling into the "New York dream" mentality. When I sat down at an indie café where plants and inspirational quotes on walls were always in sight, I decided that my life would consist of mimosas at brunch with friends and late-night wine with friends on a couch in an unaffordable apartment. I am an introvert who thinks that sleeping in until noon regularly is ideal, make that make sense.
Today New York is living up to its high standards. Honking cars and taxis cover the streets while people who are all simultaneously in a rush cover the sidewalks. Even though it's almost midnight the roads are packed full. But the one thing that ties the aesthetic all together is the lights that illuminate the streets of the city, leaving a spotty walkway for anyone out this late. Before calling a taxi, I make sure to wave at the old lady that gave me a free iced tea when I got lost on the way to my hotel after a late-night bar visit. She smiles in my direction and walks back into the quaint bodega she runs.
A bright yellow taxi heads up the street next to me, so I shoot my hand up in the air and wave at the driver. The car pulls into a parking spot and the driver steps out to grab my bag. I open the taxi door and step inside. The taxis reeks of what smells like a mix of old takeout and... piss? Instead of putting my canvas bag to the side of me, I put it on my lap to avoid any extra contact I can make with the car.
The driver's door shuts, and an older man sits down. "Where to?" he asks.
'"The Coffee Nook" near Union Square." I respond. I know this isn't my actual destination but the only name I remember from yesterday was the name of a coffee shop that was miraculously open after the show.
The meter lights up and we begin heading toward the venue. As we drive down the busy streets, it hits me that this is going to be the last time I can enjoy the privacy of being alone until the tour is over. There will be times when I can be alone, but it's not the same as the beauty that lies with loneliness here. I'm not meaning to romanticize being alone, but here it's not as dreadful as it was when I was home. Being alone in Arizona meant you had no one who wanted to hang out with you, but here you're seen as any other person walking along the narrow sidewalks.
I look out the taxi window and the buildings become slightly familiar. I notice the small shops that fans stood outside of, waiting to see the band. We approach the coffee shop and I hand the taxi driver the money due on the meter through the plastic screen dividing us. I open the car door and grab my luggage from the back of the trunk. From where I am on the street, I notice something in front of the venue. I begin walking closer to the commotion that lights up the area. Wait. Is that... Paparazzi? What reporter would be out searching for a scandal this late at night? Unless something else happened with the band. Specifically involving Jameson.
The tour bus waits in an alley to the right of the venue, giving me room to wait for the band and be nosey at the same time. I peek my head out from behind the wall and I spot a black Mercedes. There must be someone important inside due to the crowd around the lonesome car. All of a sudden a woman steps out of the car. She's dressed head to toe in black, but not just plain black clothing, her body is hugged with black skinny jeans and a matching corset top. She looks expensive and familiar now that I think about it. Her face reminds me of someone I've seen on Instagram. Oh my god. It's Jameson's ex, Milania Johnson.
The tall brunette covers her face from the cameras the best she can with her manicured hand while the other holds her phone up to her ear. It looks like she is arguing with whoever is on the other line. Her security steps in front of her, one opens the door and follows the girl closely inside while the other guards the door outside. But even though Milania is no longer on display, the men with cameras still sit, waiting for something to happen. It's like watching turtles at the zoo and waiting for them to fly or do something else that's unlikely.
After a few minutes, the girl walks out. But she isn't as tame as she was walking in. Now she is yelling at her phone as she stomps toward the car. The paparazzi pounce at the opportunity and yell at her for details. "Have you discussed legal action with Mr. Grey?" one of them yells from afar. Legal action for cheating? Come on now. Her security rushes to open the door and she throws her phone onto the seat next to her before getting in.
As the car takes off, the crowd slowly starts to separate. I turn towards the bus and take a seat on my luggage. As soon as I sit down, the side door into the building opens, and out comes Izalea, Archer, Skylar, and a few crew members. Izalea notices me immediately despite how dark the alleyway is, it's like she can sense me at this point.
Her eyes widen and she runs up to me giving me the biggest bear hug of my life. "Lia! I thought you weren't going to take the job. I thought it would be too quick." She exclaims, squeezing me harder.
I wrap my arms around her back and give her a small pat on the back. "It took me a while to decide but, in the end, it's benefiting all of us, right?" I admit while looking between the two boys behind Izalea.
"Right. Now let's get you on the bus before the cameras start flashing again." Skylar confirms. He reaches beside Izalea, grabs my luggage, and walks me towards the bus.
The panel doors to the bus open and I squeeze past the alley wall. When I make it to the top step, I can help but audibly gasp. The tour bus looks like something out of a movie. As soon as you walk in you are greeted by a wide sitting area that has couches, a pool table, and a minibar. I take a step into the area and from beside me, Archer turns on the light to the main room.
"Lia, I'm putting your luggage in the bag room. Just want to let you know before I get woken up in the morning by an angry you." Skylar announces from the hallway to the left. The hallway to the left holds the bathrooms, a few beds, and a closet. The one to the right is mostly beds and a spare storage room.
"Come on, I'll show you your bed," Izalea says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the right hallway.
When we make it inside the room, she points to the bottom bunk bed. "This is it. It's not as comfortable as a luxury hotel bed but it's tolerable." She pulls back the privacy curtain before continuing. "You're lucky. When we got our first tour bus I had to sleep on the top bunk and fell from it in the middle of the night." She admits and clenches her teeth.
I gasp. "Did anyone wake up?"
"Everyone woke up. Grey took a picture, Skylar asked me if I needed to go to the hospital, and Archer went back to bed." She laughs.
"Oh my god. That's terrible!" A laugh leaves my throat, following Izalea's. "I'm sorry... but did Grey actually take a picture?" I ask, slowly gaining composure.
"If you look at his Instagram feed from 2018, you'll find it." She informs me.
"Looks like I'm going on a deep dark search through his account tonight," I admit, chuckling.
"Oh, trust me, that's not the only thing you'll find." Her eyes widen, confirming more embarrassing pictures from years ago. She puts her hand on my shoulder and turns me around. "I would totally sit and talk for longer, but this show was exhausting. If you need me just start shaking me and I'll be up in no time." She says, opening the privacy curtain of her bed which is conveniently next to mine.
I huff at her comment and debate on what I should do until I remember that I have a video I need to edit for a client. The last video I need to edit for a client. I grab my canvas bag and close the door to the cabin behind me. The main room is empty, so I take a seat on the leather couch that is attached to the wall. I set the bag down next to me and grab my computer and tech bag which is full of everything I need to edit with.
After a few minutes of cutting down the best footage I got from the shoot, I hear loud stomping coming from the back of the bus. That's when I remember that I didn't see Grey when I got on the bus earlier. When the stomping stops, Archer and Grey's voices are clear through the walls. But they don't sound like they are having a civil conversation, it's more like an argument.
"I thought I told you not to talk to her Archer. How much of that didn't process through your fucking brain." Jameson asks, his tone harsh.
"What else was I supposed to do? Let her talk shit about you while you just sat around drinking the thought of her away? I was doing the right thing, man." Archer responds.
"We both know she isn't the problem here! You gave her leverage just so you could sleep better." Jameson yells back.
"Whatever, I'm not dealing with this shit tonight, Grey," Archer concludes, stepping out of the bathroom and walking from the main room towards his bed. A loud slam sounds from inside the bathroom and a groan follows.
No longer wanting to edit, I pick up my things and walk toward my bed. As I walk past the left hallway door, a large body stops me. My bag slips from my hand and falls to the ground from the impact.
"My bad, I didn't know you were there." I apologize, grabbing my bag from under me. I look up and realize that I bumped into Jameson, and he doesn't look so happy about it.
"Why don't you watch your step next time... Jesus Christ." He mutters under his breath. He steps away from me and grabs a pen that fell from my bag, handing it back to me.
"I'll be sure to make a little path just for you next time while I'm at it," I respond sarcastically, grabbing my pen from his hand while glaring up at him.
Jameson sighs and rubs his face in his hands. "Fuck... I'm sorry." He looks down at me and his deep brown eyes seem duller than ever. Maybe it's the rough night or the asshole in him, but I'm not dealing with it.
"Mhm." I dryly reply, turning around and walking away from him.
"God damnit." I hear him mutter when I walk into the room.
I place my bag onto the floor after I close the door and climb into bed. Thankfully I dressed for the occasion with a big Nike sweater and shorts. But even though I am comfortable, I'm unsettled by the run-in I just had with Jameson. If he continues to get this upset because of these encounters with his ex, how is this documentary going to prove that he can change? Archer seems sick of it and so does the rest of the group. All I know is that if Jameson doesn't get over it, the rest of the group will suffer with him, and that's something I don't want to witness.