Just Off the Key of Reason

Chapter Seventeen - I'll Be Your Best Kept Secret

           

Sunday, 24th of June, 2007 - Phoenix, Arizona

Pete was discharged from the hospital later that evening and brought back to the tour bus by 7pm. He was asleep by 7:05. They set off on their relatively short drive to Arizona that night, deciding that a real meal and potential lack of sleep was better than more sleep and having to make do with what they hadn't already devoured in the cupboards. But it's not like this decision affected Pete anyway, he slept like a log until about 2 the following afternoon. By that point they had well and truly arrived in Phoenix and, unbeknownst to the still sleeping Pete, had finished their sound check for the show that night. Everyone was still unsure if he'd be okay for the show, but the doctors had assured them that he should be fine as long as he takes it easy leading up to the performance. Joe wasn't mad about having to do a third sound check for their bassist, happy to let him rest if that meant that they might have him on stage. It wasn't the same without Pete's rapport with the crowd , or his screaming into the microphone. But as they went through their checks, things finally seemed to feel right again on stage for the first time since they'd gotten back on tour. There was no awkward tension, no angry glances, everyone just seemed happy and like they were having fun. Patrick had many questions that ate away at the back of his mind, but he thought it best to bide his time and let things cool off a bit. He didn't want to ruin the good thing that it seemed like they had going, especially after what they'd all just been through. They all had high hopes that their show tonight would go well.

Pete awoke in his bunk and instantly braced himself for the headache and nausea that he had been expecting after his night of drinking. But as a few moments passed, it seemed like it wasn't coming. Those fluids the hospital had given him clearly did a better job of curing his hangover than he thought that they had. His heart still felt heavy in his chest from everything that had transpired. The little voice at the back of his mind started to chime in with its usual routine of pessimism and depression, but at least now another voice was there to remind him that his friends gave a shit about him. His friends. His band. What time was it? They had a show today. When Pete finally tumbled out of his bunk, there was nobody to be found. He glanced out of the window at the back of the bus to see the midday sunshine glaring down at the asphalt and decided it was probably best to stay in the bus until they came back. He was relieved that his headache was finally gone, but his stomach still felt weird and his throat still ached. His memory of what they'd actually done to him in hospital was fairly hazy, but he had a feeling that tubes had been down his throat at one point. Certainly that would explain the almost-burn that he felt there now.

He realised as his stomach growled loudly that he hadn't eaten in nearly two days. Sugar. Sugar was what his stomach craved. The words: "you are banned from the gas appliances" vaguely floated around at the back of his mind, but he wanted a Pop-Tart and he'd be damned if he let anyone stop him. He shuffled into the small kitchen, fishing around at the top of the food cupboard for the box that he knew Patrick had stashed at the back. Patrick's hiding spots were never as good as he thought they were. It was a surprise he hadn't learned to find new ones after Pete stealing his treats for years now. Pete's hand came into contact with a rectangular object that felt Pop-Tart-box-y and he pulled it down with excitement, nearly dropping it to the floor in his rush. There was no toaster on the bus, but he assumed that the grill on the oven would do much same job of toasting the delicious sugary goods. He pulled out the metal tray, emptied the contents of the whole box onto it and then crouched down to stare at the dials. In true style of their management, as much as the tour bus looked fancy, the appliances were knock offs. This didn't help Pete in the slightest as he stared at the foreign language and weird illustrations on the dials, trying to work out which would turn on the grill. He frowned to himself, deciding to try them each one by one until he found one that did what he wanted.