The alarm was going off, blaring noise next to her head. Chloe rolled over, picked up her phone. Get the fuck up, read the screen. The alarm meant she had ten minutes before Rachel or Steph would be pounding on her door, fifteen minutes until they were joined by Pisshead's band manager, and maybe half an hour before the Pissheads themselves were all out there, taunting her.

She silenced the phone, took a deep breath, and took stock. She he could hear the shower running, so he was still there. Inconvenient. At least she wasn't hung over. She sat up and looked around at a cheap motel room, two piles of clothes the floor, her black leather jacket slung over the lone chair. Time to clear out.

She reluctantly slid out of bed, grabbed a folded towel, and wrapped it around herself. Then she opened the bathroom door, not bothering to knock.

"Good morning," came the guy's voice from behind the curtain, entirely too cheerful. He probably had a name, but if he'd told it to her she hadn't been listening. Yesterday's news.

"Yeah, hi," she said. "Listen, I've gotta hit the road so…"

"Yup, I'm about done, come on in."

No. "That's okay. I'll wait." She leaned against the wall, but he seemed to get the message, stepping out of the shower. He was still pretty cute, even without the beer goggles, but she didn't have time to care. Wordlessly, she hung up her towel and stepped past him into the shower. A quick wash, no time to shave, brush her teeth, out into the room. The guy had dressed and was sitting in the chair fiddling with his phone.

She started throwing on clothes, the usual ripped jeans and tank top, then put on her jacket and boots and walked out the door into mercilessly bright sunlight. The second-floor walkway looked out over the motel's small central parking lot, where the tour bus was already pulled up, engine running.

Yesterday's news followed her out.

"So—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Last night was fun. I had a good time, really. But I've gotta go."

"I'd… love to see you again, sometime."

"Yeah. Totally. I'll text you next time I'm in town."

"Um. Okay. See you later, I guess." It was bullshit and they both knew it. For a moment he looked like he might go for a hug or something, but instead he just gave her a friendly wave and walked off.

Chloe turned, relishing the idea of turning the tables and pounding on Rachel's door for once. Instead she found Rachel standing directly behind her.

"Beware the love of Chloe Price, boys. It cuts like a knife," Rachel said, looking amused.

"Who said anything about love? Let's get out of here."

Rachel jerked a head toward her room. "Steph's still getting dressed." They often shared rooms, sometimes all three of them, to save money. As far as Chloe knew, nothing ever went on between Steph and Rachel, but you could never be sure.

Rachel rested her elbows on the railing, looking out at the generic suburban hellscape beyond the motel. Wide roads, gas stations, bad chain restaurants, discount shoe stores struggling to compete with the Walmart which loomed, inevitably, not far enough away. "He looked nice," she said. "You think if we do enough shows, someday you'll find a keeper?"

"Come on, Rachel, don't do this."

Rachel's voice was gentle. "I'm serious."

"You know I'm just blowing off steam. I don't even remember that guy's name. And don't get all jealous, you dumped me, remember?"

"Not exactly dumped."

"Whatever."

Steph chose this moment to emerge from the motel room, looking annoyingly fresh as always. Weeks on the road took its toll on just about everybody, but on Steph the fatigue, if it existed at all, was entirely invisible. She glanced from Chloe to Rachel and grimaced. "Let's roll," she said.

They piled onto the bus with the four Pisshead guys and the manager, and they were on their way. It was several hours to Seattle and they'd have to head straight into sound check when they got there. In the meantime, there wasn't much to do; everyone was pretty well sick of each other and riding time was quiet. Steph passed the time reading some interminable fourteen-book fantasy epic. Chloe envied her patience. She herself could handle at most 300 pages of guys with swords not doing anything, at the absolute maximum.

Rachel disappeared into her phone, running the band's social media as always. Diligently posting about last night's show and how excited they all were for the next one. Were they excited? Maybe if they had a good crowd. They might, in Seattle. Chloe was tired of touring, but also in no hurry to get back to Arcadia Bay and her mom and David and who knows what new shit that would roll her way.

She stared out the window, watching the geography grow more familiar, more recognizably Pacific Northwest. She'd never been to Seattle; it was one place she wouldn't mind staying an extra night or two. Maybe look up Max. As if that was ever going to happen. How do you find someone who's gone completely radio silent? She'd have to hire a detective.

And anyway they were off the next morning to Portland, then home. Fantastic. If Frank was still in town she would probably just blow all her meager earnings from the trip on weed, spend the rest of the summer nicely baked. There were worse plans. Then maybe after some time off she and Rachel could patch things up, figure out something that worked. Somehow. The scenery drifted past, and she dozed.

She awoke to Rachel poking her. "Come on, we're here, time to set up."

"Yeah, yeah I'm awake," Chloe grumbled. She stepped out of the bus into downtown Seattle, in front of a small concert hall. Seemed like a cool place, certainly better than any they'd played in a while. She grabbed her bass from the bus's open cargo bay and walked inside.

It was all fairly routine. Tune the bass, wait for the sound guy to get everything hooked up, test everything, lots of sitting around doing nothing. Grab dinner somewhere nearby, then get backstage before the fans start to show up.

As it turned out they did have a good crowd. Everybody was there for Pisshead, obviously, but the seats were already more than half full when Rachel took the mic and gave her little intro. Chloe found herself scanning the audience, looking for a familiar face. Nothing. Not that she could really see, against the lights. But they played a good set, and were rewarded with some real cheers and applause at the end. As the guys took the stage, she made her way backstage, smiling, and slouched into a metal folding chair to wait for her cue. Pisshead wanted an extra bass for one of their songs, and she'd jumped at the chance to play with them, not thinking through how she'd have to spend most of their set staying sober backstage. Rachel and Steph were free to take off, or get loaded, or drop into the mosh pit incognito. This time, though, Rachel took the chair next to her, idly fingering the frets on her guitar, following Pisshead's chords. They didn't talk, they just sat, listening to Pisshead play. It was nice.

When Chloe's cue came, she headed around to the stage. Now the place was packed and Pisshead was rocking it. She did her thing for four minutes, and was backstage again, finally done for the night.

Rachel was still there, talking to a brunette with her back to Chloe. The brunette looked seriously out of place, girlie sneakers, un-ripped jeans, hoodie and a hipster bag. Rachel was stern, maybe even angry, and she tapped the girl on the chest with a finger, driving home some important point. The girl nodded. Whatever this was, it wasn't a casual hookup. Chloe sighed to herself. She never really knew what Rachel was up to.

After a brief exchange, Rachel's eyes moved to Chloe, and the girl turned, revealing blue eyes, freckles, and… no way. No fucking way.

"Hey Chloe."