Tragic Magic II World Tour

Chapter Eighteen

The adventures started that night. All three bands gathered together at the hotel bar and drank. It felt nice not having any problems with anyone.

"When I first started touring, the dudes used to make me sit in the hotel room and watch TV while they would go party," Andy tells the group.

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Dave laughs and punches his shoulder.

"Why didn't you go with them?" Vic asks, taking a seat next to us at the bar.

"Because I was underage," Andy explains.

"Yeah, but once he turned twenty one, we were the first to take him out," Hayden says proudly.

"Damn, I remember the days," Ronnie reminisces.

"Being the youngest on a tour is awful," Andy explains, "like I would watch all these Vegas advertisements on TV and just be sad because I couldn't do anything."

"Little baby Andy," Dave pinches his cheeks.

"Yeah," he slaps his hand away.

"Now you're the biggest partier on the bus," Brent jokes.

"I wouldn't doubt that," I add, gesturing to his empty glasses.

"Shut up, you know you like me," Andy teases.

The night went by too fast. We were all basically wasted by the end of the night. Everyone became closer through sad, embarrassing stories. Things were finally looking up, I felt better than ever.

"Dude, you should probably get water for your wife too," Ronnie calls after Andy, who is trying to find his way to a vending machine.

"Dude, she's not my wife, she's your wife," he calls back.

"Nah, I don't want her anymore," he says, giving me a dirty look.

"Gosh guys," I interrupt, "maybe I don't want either of you."

"Then you can have me," Hayden runs at me with his arms open.

"Ew, no, I don't want you. Andy come back," I say, sliding off my bar stool and ducking Hayden's hug.

"Woah," he says, lifting me back up onto the stool and shoving Hayden onto the floor, "you've fallen like an old person."

"Stop bullying me, Andrew," he whines and crawls away.

"Where's my water?" I ask, attaching myself to Andy.

"Oh I forgot," he shrugs and sips on his water bottle.

"Oh," I tighten my grip around his waist.

"Oh no, I can't move, someone help me," he says, immediately dropping to the floor.

"The damn bartender probably thinks we're crazy," Jaime joins the conversation.

"I'm used to it," the bartender shrugs, cleaning up his work space.

"Andrew get up off the floor, were you raised in a bar?" Brandon says, tapping his side with his foot.

"Don't you mean a barn?" Ryan corrects him.

"No," he rolls his eyes, "this poor child was raised in a bar."

"No I wasn't," he cries, clinging to the bottom of the bar stool.

"Someone send him to bed," Dave says, turning everyone's attention towards me.

"That's not my problem," I say, tapping Andy with my foot.