Gustav watched intently as Bill and Tom walked toward the tour bus. "Georg! Hide, quick! Bill's coming! He's going to find his cord and yell at me again," Gustav announced, the thought of Bill beating him up again sending Gustav into pure panic. Georg chuckled when Gustav jumped into the bathroom and locked the door. "Gustav's in the bathroom…hiding," Georg announced when the last of the twins stepped onto the bus. "God, Georg. Way to blow my secret," Gustav stepped out of the bathroom, cringing with anticipated fear. "What secret?" Bill asked reluctantly. "He broke the cord again," Georg lifted his eyes from the magazine he was reading and sunk further into his chair. "Georg!" Gustav whined. "He-did-what!?" the anger in Bill's voice was enough to make Georg, Tom, and Gustav flinch. "Nothing!" Gustav ducked when Bill lunged at him, falling backwards onto the floor.
"Uh-oh," Tom exclaimed, "we better get out of here!" The bus began to roll as Tom and Georg jumped into the back half of the vehicle. "You broke my cord?" Footsteps pounded along the floor. Bill was chasing Gustav around the table. "Guys, sit down!" the driver yelled. "You broke the cord again?! I should wring your neck!" "It was an accident!"
The loud THUD! against the wall gave Tom and Georg the knowledge that Bill had shoved Gustav into the thin layers of what might as well have been cardboard. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. One: you're going to buy me a new microphone. Two: you're not going to break it. And three: you're NEVER going to touch ANY of my things again! –Got it?" Gustav nodded his head furiously out of fear, "yes, sir. I mean, Bill." "Good," Bill let Gustav's shoulders go and he scattered into the back half of the bus with Tom and Georg.
"What's the matter with Bill?" Gustav asked reluctantly. "He's PMS-ing," Tom replied nonchalantly. "What?" Georg furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't know. He's mad at Sesha because she's emotional," Tom added. "I don't understand," Gustav said, "I thought that she was 'giving him a chance.'" "She was, but- I don't know. Something about him getting in her business and her not letting him talk to her," Tom picked up his guitar and began to pluck the strings lightly. "Tom! Can you NOT?!" Bill screamed from the front of the bus. "Sorry, Bill!" Tom unplugged the long cord hooked up to the amplifier and continued strumming chords, "I really don't know what's going on with them." Gustav watched Tom's fingers as they shifted across the strings, "I really didn't mean to break the cord." "We know you didn't," Tom replied. Georg kept his mouth shut. "Why'd you say something?" Gustav shot a glare at the longhaired brunette. "Think about it this way," Georg began, "would you rather him have found out you didn't tell him. Or would you have rather had him know and it be over with?" "I would have rather replaced the one in his bag with the new one I bought, Georg. He never would've known if you didn't say anything. You idiot! If you had just kept your mouth shut…we could've avoided this whole mess. Don't you know anything-?"
Georg sunk further into his seat on the couch, readying himself for the rage of anger Gustav was unleashing. "Hey! Hey, Tom! Watch this," he focused on Georg, "Gustav, you're short." "Ah, Georg. Du bist blöd! Mein Gotte," Gustav yelled. "Ich bin nicht," Georg whispered. "Nein, du bist," Tom chuckled. Georg and Tom watched while Gustav entered the half of the bus that Bill was on.
Bill yawned heavily, touring gave him insomnia. Flipping his cell phone open, he noticed an unopened text. He pressed the button under the word: 'Lesen.' He scanned the words carefully.
Hallo, Bill! Das ist Elesea. I just wanted to let you know that Sesha is a complete mess. I need you to call her. 555-6366. Tschau!
Bill rolled his eyes. There was no force on heaven, Earth, or hell that could get him to call that annoying, little Bizarr-o. "Bill! Elesea sent me a text! You're supposed to call Sesha," Tom's voice was muffled from the walls. "Yeah, she sent me one, too," Georg added, "I bet she didn't send Gustav one since he dropped his phone in a mud puddle in L.A." "Georg, stop talking, no one listens to you," Bill yelled, "fine! I'll call her."
Black shoestrings flipped against the concrete as Bill headed toward the gas station door. His fingers ran across the key pad as he dialed the phone number. 555-6366. "Hello?" he recognized Sesha's voice. "Hi," he whispered. "What?" she had been crying again.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she hadn't raised her voice this time.
"Sesha, tell me the truth," he commanded silently.
"Can we please not do this now?"
"I just want to help."
Air pushed through her lips in a sigh and she felt her eyes become wet, "it's just my parents again, no big deal."
"It is a big deal."
"My mom and dad have been arguing all day. I can't listen to them anymore, Bill. I just can't. Where are you guys at?"
"We just got into Indianapolis. We've got a concert tomorrow night. Why?"
"If I go to your concert, can I go with you back to Germany?" her sniffling caused his heart to drop.
"You can't just run away."
"Please," the crack in her voice was too much for him to bear.
"Alright," he agreed reluctantly.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Have your stuff," he requested.
"I know I may be a jerk to you, but you're a really good friend," she confessed.
"Thanks," he placed his hand on his forehead, already aware that he had made a mistake.
"Sesha! Get off the phone!" Bill heard her father yell.
"I just got on!"
"Get off! NOW!"
"Daddy-."
"I don't want to hear it. Get off."
"I've gotta go," she bit her lip.