Craig winced at the sound of his alarm going off. It sounded like a dozen horns blaring directly into his ears. At least that's how he perceived it. He shielded his eyes from the light that was already spilling into the room. He sighed, knowing that he couldn't ignore the alarm, and rolled out of bed.
He stood in his underwear for about ten minutes, simply going back and forth on whether or not he should shower again. His shame got the best of him. He didn't want to risk anyone being able to catch the lingering scent of his late night jerking session. That would be an awful way to start what is essentially his first day of work.
Thankfully, this hotel offered plain black tea as well as the hipster flavors. He grabbed a muffin while his tea was steeping. He bit into it, thinking it was going to be a banana nut muffin, only to immediately spit it back out into the trash once he discovered it was actually bran. What was with these hotels? Did they actually think anyone wanted a bite of chewy sawdust in the morning? Was it really that important than business people stay regular?
He sighed, disappointed, and opened up a navigation app to enter the address where he was supposed to meet the band. The address just looked like someone's apartment, which made Craig curious. Where exactly would they be fitting this tour bus on a residential road?
Craig found his answer at 8 AM on the dot. He stood in front of the large tour bus that had completely blocked the left side of the street. A smaller van was parked in front of it. The van had a wrap-around on it that had the silhouette of each band member and "Humble Folx 2018 Tour" scrolled across in silver writing. Craig was quite pleased with how it looked. He had assumed it would be some gaudy monstrosity that he'd be embarrassed to be seen near.
He spotted a young woman with ebony hair talking to someone through a bluetooth earpiece. He assumed this, as there was no one near her while her mouth rapidly moved. She had a tablet in her hand, seemingly running down a final checklist. He realized that she obviously must be the band's road manager, and the woman he was scheduled to meet. Craig looked around and couldn't find the rest of the band anywhere. He was unsure why she requested him to arrive so early, but he figured she had a reason.
He approached her silently, hands in his khaki pockets, and stood patiently until she noticed him.
"Oh! Hi! You must be Craig, right?" she exclaimed, holding out her hand.
Craig followed through, taking her hand in his. "And you must be…Wendy, right?"
She had a firm, confident handshake. Craig had just met her and he could already tell that she was head bitch in charge. It made him feel at ease.
"Give me one sec," she added. "The journalist who's shadowing us just got here, Leo, so I'm gonna have to let you go. Once everything is loaded and the rest of the road crew is accounted for, you guys can head out, okay? See you later."
She pressed a button on her earpiece and turned back to Craig.
"How was the plane ride here?" she asked. "I know JFK can be a nightmare, especially at this time of year."
"It wasn't too bad. I made it okay." Craig stared at her, the mood between them growing uncomfortable. He just wasn't quite sure what to say next. He generally wasn't one for small talk this early in the morning.
"Alright, well, let's get started by looking over the final plan."
Wendy pulled a stylus out from her shirt pocket. After a series of clicks, she moved closer to Craig to show him the screen.
"So we have a really busy schedule ahead of us. The tour is taking place over fifty-seven days and we have forty cities to cover."
"That seems like a lot for a newer band," said Craig.
"It's precisely because we're a newer band. I want the boys to get out there and spread their music as far as they can. If the tour goes well, it will help the album sales, and help establish them on the mainstream scene."
"You're not afraid of burnout? Have they toured this intensely before?"
"Well...no. But I've taken that into consideration! I have several plans in place to keep them hydrated and healthy along the way. I have a degree in music management and marketing from Berklee. I got things under control."
Craig pursed his lips. He wanted to trust Wendy's judgement, but he was a little worried about her optimistic attitude. It's not like he himself had been on tour before, but he had read so many accounts of young bands biting off more than they could chew and becoming exhausted before their tours were finished. Canceling dates was not good for public image.
"Now onto hotel arrangements," Wendy continued. "Um, unfortunately the hotels were booked well in advance, before you were brought on. I tried to book an extra room for you, but everyone is booked solid. Luckily, with a five member band, one of the rooms has an extra bed. You don't mind rooming with one of the guys, do you?"
"Nah, that's fine. It'll help me get to know them, I guess. It'll definitely give me something to write about for that daily diary thing."
"Yes. About that. You'll be helping us with promotion a lot by posting those every day. I hope it goes without saying that it is to be professional and not trashy, but still be fun and get people hyped about the tour."
"Of course. I'm not fucking TMZ," Craig replied.
Wendy paused, deciding to ignore Craig's foul language. "Also I'm going to need you to send out at least three tweets a day. Social media is so important for new bands to make their mark."
"Uh...yeah I could do that, but I think it's important for you to know that I only have maybe two hundred followers. Three hundred, tops. I don't have much of a presence on Twitter."
"Hmm. Well, any promotion is good promotion. And I'll have the boys tweet at you to help get your numbers up."
"Hey, speaking of which, where are they? I thought they'd be here already?"
Wendy sighed. "I'm not surprised. I usually tell them to be at gigs an hour ahead of when I really need them there." She stared off into the middle distance. "Sometimes it feels like I'm their tour mom, not their tour manager. They're lucky we went to school together, or I wouldn't put up with nearly as much as I do."
Some raucous laughter was heard coming out of the building in front of the bus. The door swung open and Humble Folx came filing out. It appeared that last night had clearly taken its toll on them. Kenny slowly dragged his feet over the threshold of the door, obviously still hungover. His face was completely hidden by his hoodie. Jimmy was less sluggish, but was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and it appeared that there were some fresh hickeys on his neck. Clyde was oddly chipper in his demeanor, despite looking like death. He had been the one laughing loudly, much to Kenny's chagrin. Token was the only one of the four who looked well-rested and ready for the day.
Wait...why were only four members here?
Tweek didn't have to worry about waking up on time because he had never gone to sleep. After partaking in some of the more enjoyable perks of being the frontman of a rock band, he had simply wandered around the city for a while. The other guys had gone back to the apartment once the bar finally kicked them all out, but they must have been too drunk to notice that he wasn't with them. That wasn't an uncommon event. Tweek often stayed up later than his friends, and when the adrenaline of a show had worn off, Tweek wasn't much of a presence. His newly green hair made him stand out a little more than usual, but overall he wasn't quite impressive on a day to day basis.
He was an average height, and an average weight for that average height. He worked out a little bit, but not enough to be noticed for it. He kept his frantic, shaggy hair pulled back with two stainless steel barrettes, one on either side of his head. He kept to himself most of the time. Overall, he was fairly unremarkable.
Unless he was performing, of course. Then that average guy who blended into the walls suddenly became a somebody. Somebody who grabbed people's attention and held it in a death grip until he was good and done with them. When Tweek was in performance mode he was—dare he say it?—fun.
But performance mode doesn't last forever, and eventually, like clockwork, Tweek would end up somewhere quiet and alone by the time the sun rose. Probably wearing shades to hide the bloodshot eyes and puffy lids of the hangover he inevitably would have. This morning, he found himself sitting next to Cherry Creek. It was one of Tweek's favorite spots in Denver. He had written many a song while sitting near it. His feet had just brought him here on their own today. Like his subconscious wanted him to say goodbye to her, if only for now.
Tweek watched the sun rise higher over the city skyline, light spilling out from behind the buildings. His usual frantic thoughts were coming back to him now that he was far enough removed from the stage. He thought about where he had come from and where he was headed. He thought about the people who had scoffed at his dreams and those who had supported them. He thought about how fortunate he was to be in this position, but also of the hardships he endured to get there. He became so lost in the anxiety of leaving for the tour that he didn't see when it was time to head back to the apartment.
When he did check his phone for the time, it was already eight. He shrieked aloud, startling a middle aged woman who was on her morning power walk. It would take him at least thirty minutes to get back.
On the way, he decided to stop and get a coffee from one of his favorite places. The desire for a fresh cup trumped his concern over being late. He was already late anyway, what was an extra ten minutes going to do?
Tweek finally strolled up to the apartment at a quarter to nine. He noticed that Wendy was speaking to some dude in a blue knit chullo over by the van. Nice choice of headgear in the summer, dumbass, he thought. He quickly ran onto the bus before she could notice his late arrival and scold him accordingly.
"Heeeyyy!" Clyde exclaimed. "Look who's finally here!"
Jimmy and Kenny winced at the loud noise.
"Clyde...pl-please keep it down. A-a-asshole."
"I still don't get how he becomes more annoying when he's hungover," Kenny mumbled, sliding down further on the leather couch.
"He's always been like this," Token added. "Since the first time he ever drank."
"Why are you not aff-f-fected, Token?" Jimmy asked.
"Cause I didn't drink last night. Since this was out last night in Denver, I went over Nichole's place and we had our own release party, if you catch my drift." He was grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, I'm glad that someone got laid last night. I ended up getting so shitfaced that I couldn't keep the damn thing up. I'm such a fucking idiot," Kenny muttered.
"I fell asleep!" Clyde turned around in his seat and leaned against the back, bouncing up and down. He looked like an excited puppy. "I think I may still be drunk!"
"Clearly," Token laughed.
"…I got head in the bathroom last night," Tweek quietly said into his coffee cup.
That caused the other four to perk right up.
"The slut st-strikes again, huh?"
"Dammit, Jimmy, not you too!" Tweek whined.
"Hello hello! I'm coming up!" Wendy called out, quickly halting their conversation as she entered the bus.
"Oh good, Tweek, you finally decided to show up. The driver just arrived, so we'll be heading out shortly. I just wanted to introduce you to our guest of honor before we left. Guys, this is Craig Tucker."
Craig appeared behind Wendy. His eyes went directly to Tweek before quickly looking away. Tweek's eyes widened once he got a good look at his face. He was definitely thankful that he had worn shades that morning. What were the fucking odds of this? He slowly sank in his chair, hoping that no one would notice the flush appearing in his cheeks.
"He'll be riding in the van with me, for now. Once you guys all develop a rapport, he can ride with you and start on the interview process. Okay then, I'll see you guys somewhere in Wyoming when we stop for food. Don't be a dick to the driver, okay?"
The guys said hello to Craig and thanked Wendy before the two left the bus. Kenny noticed that Tweek looked like an uncomfortable puddle in his seat.
"Dude, Tweek. What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.
"Err...you know…stretching…?" Tweek weakly replied.
"Th-that's a stretch, alright," Jimmy joked.
"Ah fuck. Uhh…you know how I said I got head last night?" Tweek shielded his face with his hand.
"Oh my god, Tweek. Don't you dare fucking say you got blown by the journalist already," Token said, rubbing his temples.
"Jesus Christ! No!" Tweek screeched. "Who do you think I am, Token? Fuck!" He squirmed in his seat. "He just...ngh...came into the bathroom and saw me getting blown."
Clyde found this incredibly funny. "We haven't even left on tour yet and Craig has already seen your dick, dude!" he laughed. "Do you think he'll write about that for the magazine?"
By now, Tweek's face was completely red and there was no hiding it any longer. His friends laughed at his expense, which, although he knew that they loved him and weren't doing so with malice, was not helping his anxiety, or his hangover. He abruptly jumped out of his seat and ran to the bathroom at the back of the bus.
He barely made it to the toilet before he unloaded the contents of his stomach. Hunched over the small bowl, tears in the corners of his eyes, he began to think about how he went about making choices in his life. Most of them had led him to this place. Led him to being on a tour bus about to travel across the country with his four best friends. Even the objectively bad decisions. But this one decision, the one led by the brain in his dick, may just have turned the next two months into the most awkward and uncomfortable of his life.
Tweek flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out with water in the sink. He slowly walked back into the main living area of the bus and lied down next to Clyde, resting his head in his lap. Clyde gently stroked Tweek's hair. Tweek sighed with resignation.
"Guys...I'm a huge fucking slut," he admitted.
Kenny nodded and hummed. "Admitting it is the first step, my friend."
The drive up through Wyoming was uneventful. The hungover members of Humble Folx tried to sleep it off to no avail, settling on a couple ibuprofen a piece and a lot of water. Thankfully, Token kept quiet. It took a lot for him to not play the "I told you so" card, given the fact that they all knew that they had to be ready early to leave. Still, it's not like he hadn't been over-served in the past when he should have known better. It happened more often than he'd like to admit. He knew it would be more helpful to just keep to himself for the morning and let the others recuperate.
The drive for Wendy and Craig was just as dull. Craig gathered that Wendy was a woman who didn't like small talk. Probably because there were more important things for her to be concerned about. He was totally fine with that. He wasn't a fan either. The silent ride was a gift, as it gave him time to contemplate how to not be awkward around Tweek.
He had seen Tweek's super subtle reaction to his presence on the bus. Craig may have appeared calm and aloof on the outside, but on the inside, he had been screaming. He couldn't look at Tweek for more than a second before he had to look away. How was he going to interview this guy, let alone exist around him? Craig had never been in this situation before. Sure, he'd walked in on people having sex before. He walked in on Stan more times than he could remember. But he always shut his eyes and exited the room as fast as possible. He'd never lingered. He'd never experienced enjoyment from voyeurism.
Craig sighed. Wendy didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't bother asking him what was wrong. Craig wasn't sure how he'd explain it to her anyway if she did.
Around 1PM, both vehicles pulled into a truck stop for lunch. They all found themselves sitting around a large table at Denny's. Tweek sat as far as he could from Craig without sitting directly across from him. He had strategized the seating arrangement ahead of time and made sure that he took his seat after Craig did. Clyde sat directly next to Craig, which made Tweek happy. Clyde would talk the most during the meal and hopefully keep Craig's attention focused on him. Clyde was a good friend, whether or not he realized what he was doing.
Once the food was ordered, Craig figured this would be a good time to try to get to know the guys. He'd decided on the trip here that he'd fight the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his insides by acting like it wasn't there.
"So...yeah...I'm Craig. I didn't get to say it before, but it's nice to meet you all."
Clyde clapped his large hand on Craig's back, jolting him forward. "It's nice to meet you too, dude! We know you'll fit right in!"
"Why do you say that?" Token asked.
"Well...uh...cause he seems like a cool guy, and we're cool guys, so...dammit, shut up Token!"
Token laughed and threw his straw wrapper at Clyde.
"Th-thanks for agreeing to come with us, Craig," said Jimmy.
"Wait, you're thanking me?" Craig asked. "Shit, I should be thanking you guys. Before this, I was just a grunt. Sure they let me write something, but it was like letting a kid help with the chores. They're technically helping, but it's not real in a significant way."
"I honestly thought it was a joke when Clyde came to me saying Tweek had agreed to do an interview, as long as it was you," said Wendy.
Craig chuckled. "I thought the asshole assistant of my boss was trying to do some elaborate prank when he told me. Although maybe it still sort of is a prank, because now he's kind of my boss for the summer."
The food arrived, stopping conversation for a while as everyone dug into their meals.
"So when did you guys start as a band?" Craig asked through a mouthful of hamburger.
Clyde finished slurping down his Coke before answering. "We all went to school together back in South Park. I think we met in...what?...third grade?"
Kenny nodded, holding a fry between his fingers. "Yeah. We didn't really become friends until fourth grade, though. Back then we were a bunch of punk ass kids just trying to have fun."
"We did make some pretty good memories," said Jimmy.
"Anyway," Clyde continued, "somewhere in middle school, we kinda drifted apart. You know how things go. You're in separate classes once they start having classes for smart kids."
They all turned to look at Token, who flipped them off with a smile.
"But then in high school, Token and I started jamming together after school and on the weekends. He got his bass from his dad, who used to play in the nineties. My dad got me my first guitar for Christmas. We were still just learning how to play, but we were really passionate about it."
"We sucked pretty hard, dude," Token laughed.
"One Saturday night, I was walking back from my part-time job," said Kenny, "and I hear these two assholes making all sorts of noise. So naturally I climbed up the tree outside Clyde's room and sat on his windowsill until they noticed me."
"Clyde screamed like a little girl," said Token, taking another bite of his sandwich.
"I did no-! Okay yeah I did. But can you blame me? He just appeared out of nowhere!"
"I'm mysterious like that," Kenny grinned.
"Anyway, Kenny asked to join us. Turned out that he was a fucking natural on the drums. By that point, we started our own sort of garage band, just playing covers of songs we liked. We put flyers around the school looking for some more people. Jimmy approached us and asked if we needed someone to play the keyboard. We said why the fuck not?!"
Craig realized that Tweek had been silent the entire time they were in the diner. He didn't even speak when he ordered his food. He simply pointed to the item he wanted on the menu. Craig had been told that he was a social recluse, but he had thought it was an exaggeration, especially after seeing how charismatic and engaging Tweek was on stage. He looked over at him and felt that uneasy feeling getting stronger. Was this just how things were going to be on this tour?
"Hey Tweek. How did you get involved?" Craig asked.
He hoped that by asking him a simple question, it might get Tweek to join in the conversation. Maybe by engaging him in a professional manner, it would help distract the both of them from the embarrassing private history they shared together.
Tweek glanced up at Craig. Craig was looking directly at him with a blank expression. That was the worst possible outcome for Tweek. Not being able to read what he was thinking or feeling made him feel a surge of dread in the pit of his stomach. If Craig had been smiling, or laughing, or hell, even looking like he wanted to murder someone, it would have been a million times better than literally nothing. He thought Craig kind of looked like a mannequin, and that made him even more freaked out. He quickly pushed out his chair and left the restaurant.
They all stared at the door through which Tweek had disappeared. The remaining members of the band turned back to Craig, solemn looks of apology covering their faces.
"Sorry about Tweek, man," said Kenny. "I guess he ran out of spoons already."
"It's fine," Craig said, but he did so out of politeness. "I understand that he has a lot he has to deal with. He can take his time. It's not like I'm going anywhere soon."
Clyde clapped his hand on Craig's back again. "You're a good fucking dude, Craig Tucker."
It was going on 6:30PM when they finally arrived at the hotel. It was still bright outside, but given the long trip and intensity of the previous night, everyone felt exhausted. Wendy and Craig grabbed their luggage from the back of the van, while the band members filed off of the bus with their bags in tow. Wendy led the pack into the hotel and took control of check-in. The rest wandered around the lobby, with Kenny and Clyde sniffing around the hotel bar.
Tweek, however, still remained on the bus. He paced back and forth, biting at his fingertips. His anxiety had flared up even more during the ride after lunch. He really didn't want to face strangers in the hotel, and he definitely didn't want to face Craig. He was cranky and tired and honestly felt like if he had to talk to someone who wasn't one of his friends, he'd punch them in the jaw.
Tweek's fingertips started to hurt. He had to suck it up and get into the hotel, or he'd gnaw them until they bled. He frantically looked around the bus for something to cover himself with so that he didn't have to look at anyone. Clyde had left his hoodie on the bus. Bless that lovable idiot. Tweek pulled it over his head, making sure the hood sat low enough to cover his eyes.
He peeked out from behind the bus door, just to make sure the coast was clear. He saw his opportunity, so he snuck out, closed the door behind him, and scurried toward the hotel.
Craig was standing in the lobby, browsing the display of flyers for local events and sightseeing. Not that he'd necessarily have time to visit any of them, but it was something to bide his time while he waited for his key card. Once the keys were handed out, Craig volunteered to linger in the lobby, waiting for Tweek. Wendy told him that she could do it instead, but Craig insisted, saying that he needed to use every opportunity he could to get to know him. Truthfully, he needed to talk to Tweek about the previous night, and this was his chance.
He looked up when he heard the hotel door close. That manic hoodie in a roughly human shape was undoubtedly Tweek.
"Hey! Tweek!" Craig called out.
Tweek tugged the hood further over his face and his brisk walk turned into a run toward the elevator.
"HEY!" Craig yelled. He ran after Tweek toward the open elevator.
Tweek frantically pressed the close door button, cursing it under his breath for taking too long.
Craig slipped into the elevator right as the door began to shut, but Tweek didn't have enough time to jump back out before it sealed.
Craig stared at the back of Tweek's oversized hoodie. He knew what he wanted to say, but getting the right words to come out was a whole other story.
Tweek put his fingers back up to his mouth. He bit into the tip of his thumb, hoping that the pain would wake him from this anxiety dream.
"So...about last night," Craig began.
"Nngh," Tweek groaned. "I don't really want to talk about it." He couldn't get himself to look at Craig.
"Yeah, neither do I."
Craig rubbed at the back of his neck. He usually never had trouble speaking his mind, so why now?
"But the fact of the matter is that you and I are going to be seeing each other every damn day for the next two months, and I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't want to feel this bullshit uneasy feeling every time I see you. It's not professional and it's not cute."
Tweek raised his eyebrows under the hood. He dropped his hands to his sides.
"You're getting that feeling, too?" he asked, finally turning around to face Craig.
"Yes. And I fucking hate it."
Tweek sputtered into laughter. Craig's eyes widened, and for a split second, he thought he was going to get murdered right here in the elevator.
"You seemed so unfazed. I thought I was the only one freaking out."
The elevator slowed down to their floor. The door slid open to reveal a floral print rug and beige wallpaper. They both stepped out, and Craig was afraid that Tweek would run back into the elevator and disappear again. Thankfully, he stayed.
"Ahh...you know...I don't usually do…that," Tweek continued. "You know, the whole...you know."
"Look. We don't need to talk about what you did or what I saw in any specifics. I just wanted to clear the air in some way, and then never speak of it again."
"I can do that."
"Starting tomorrow, let's have a fresh start. A purely professional relationship. Interviewer and subject."
"Musician and journalist," Tweek replied.
"Exactly. Deal?"
"Deal."
Craig extended his right hand, looking to confirm the agreement with a handshake. Tweek pulled his hoodie back just enough so that Craig could see his face. He reached out his hand and clasped it around Craig's. They looked each other in the eye as they shook hands, and they both felt a sort of curious electricity from the other. An electricity that they both chose to ignore, for now.