The Loneliest Tour Read Free

rockstar
life.
    But with Portis, it was the real
deal. He had contacts far into the world of music. Masie dreamed of one day
meeting Portis, or having him appreciate her talents and recommending her to
someone else. After all, isn ’ t
that how many people ’ s big
breaks happened?
    Hating to make the call, Masie found
Ian ’ s contact in her phone.
    They had literally gone on one
date, if that ’ s what you
could call it. It was her, him, and three other people, just out for some
drinks and casual talk and stuff. Most of it was business. Yeah, they went to a
nightclub and yeah, there was music. And, yeah, Masie danced a little. With
Ian. But did that all of a sudden sign some kind of contract for a
relationship? Because that ’ s
exactly what Ian thought they had.
    Masie hated to tear into him and
tell him to leave her alone because she feared he ’ d
go to his brother who would then go to Portis and she ’ d be fired. She could be replaced, easily. She was
unknown and had no respect from anyone.
    Maybe not even from myself …
    When Ian didn ’ t answer, she reached into her
bag for her keys. Her car was still at the studio where the dancers had met to
listen to Crutch Fail play live. That was at the band ’ s request, not Masie ’ s.
Her keys were in her other bag, in the studio. Right on the floor, next to the
couch in one of the sitting rooms.
    “ Damn, ” Masie whispered.
    She grabbed her phone and called
for a cab. It was too late to bother anyone else. She really wasn ’ t in a good part of the city
either. As crazy as it sounded, she was better off staying put at the back of
the building, hiding in the dark, waiting for the cab.
    One came after a few minutes, a
wave of relief washing over her. She really didn ’ t
like being alone and she definitely didn ’ t
want to be alone at the back of a building that had graffiti on it.
    In the cab, she gave the address to
the driver and she was off to the studio.
    Arriving, she paid for the cab
ride, and exited the vehicle. She walked to the back door and pulled on it. For
a second, panic rippled through her entire body.
    Why would a recording studio be
open this late?
    That meant she ’ d have to call Ian and deal with
his assumed relationship status.
    To Masie ’ s surprise though, the door opened.
    She took to the steps and climbed
to the second floor landing. The walls were dark and narrow in the stairwell.
They freaked Masie out, coming from the woman who stood in a dark alley just a
little bit ago, waiting for a cab to come pick her up.
    When she opened the next door,
another surprise waited.
    The faint sound of music.
    Masie cringed as she gently shut
the door. She worried now that the band had come back to the studio. And with
the band always came the possibility of Ian. Then again, with Ian always came
the possibility of meeting Portis.
    Shaking her head, hating herself
for thinking such a thought, Masie moved down the hallway.
    The walls were complete with
different albums. Gold, Platinum, and plenty of framed pictures with famous
musicians and bands, all standing with Portis, complete with big smiles and
bigger autographs.
    Masie crept slowly, not wanting to
interrupt the music. The greater truth was that she hoped she could sneak to
get her other bag - with her damn keys - and then sneak out without being seen.
    Unless Portis wa s here.
    After a few more steps, she paused.
    It wasn ’ t Crutch Fail in the studio.
    No way in hell.
    It wasn ’ t loud, annoying rock music playing.
    It was soft, tender. A clean guitar
with a soothing sound. It was almost like a lullaby.
    Masie caught herself walking beyond
the door to the room where her bag was. Her fingers outreached, gently touching
the walls. The sound was beautiful. She didn ’ t
know much about music, not like a true musician would, but she knew bits and
pieces from studying dance. She felt the music start to change, like a scale
change or something. From the echoed upbeat feel to a much slower