Read Roadies :: Episode 6 | Tapas Community

They left Chicago the next night and arrived in Louisville the following morning. The crew continued on in the tour bus while the band had to go meet with their manager due to a meet-and-greet signing that had been scheduled before the show.

The band would be playing only one show in Louisville at Papa John's Cardinal Stadium. Upon arriving, the crew stopped to have lunch before heading to the stadium to set up the stage once again. The bus had been parked out the back of the venue.

"Alright," Mark called from the front of the stage, a pile of papers in his hand. "We need to get this show on the road, starting with a sound check. Let's go boys! Tyler, Nate, stop necking!"

"We aren't necking!" Nate cried in disgust from where he had Tyler in a headlock left of the stage. The pair had been rough-housing earlier over who was the hottest Hadid sister. A difference in opinions resulted in their current position.

"I don't care what you do as long as you don't do it on my stage." Mark yelled back. "Get your asses over here! So help me God, if you don't have your earpieces in yet-"

"Okay, okay!" Tyler cried, shoving Nate off him. "We're coming!"

Tyler and Nate stumbled over each other to get to the table that held their earpieces. Austin, laughing quietly at their antics, walked calmly downstage to where his microphone was set up and gave his bass an experimental pluck to see if it was in tune.

When the three were set up, Mark groaned. "Alright, where's Wednesday Addams?"

A quick scan of the stage by numerous eyes fell short of locating the missing band member.

"Here."

Harley walked out onto the stage, drum sticks positioned down by his leg as he walked with a slight swing. Silently, he made his way up to the rise and sat down behind the kit, nodding to Mark once when he was ready.

Gabe was in charge of monitoring the guitar's levels for their sound check and positioned himself behind the desk next to Dave, the band's sound engineer.

Dave gave the okay to Mark to begin and the band kicked off with their opening number. Gabe adjusted the mixer levels when needed and otherwise simply listened as they played a short set.

Sound check ran smoothly and was over in under two hours. Gabe cut the power to the mixer and nodded to Dave, standing up and making his way backstage.

"Okay, listen up." Mark said with a stoic expression from behind the stage. "You have two hours before you need to be back here. You can go back to the hotel or find something in the city but if I see you in a bar, so help me God you'll never see the light of day again. Understood?"

The junior roadies nodded nervously and Gabe scoffed, watching them hightail out of the room in a rush to get away from Mark's autocratic authority.

"Oh, Gabe." Mark called when he turned to leave. "There's a load of drum cases to be put away out the back. Can you go please?"

"Are you serious?" Gabe glared. He'd been hoping to take a Restoril and pass out in the allotted break time as there would be no time later.

With no response from Mark, Gabe angrily shrugged on his jacket and stomped his way towards the loading dock, his ever-present frown etched on his face.

"You've got to be kidding me." Gabe spat when he got there.

A row of crates littered the back area, the result of being carelessly discarded by what Gabe had no doubt to be the junior roadies. Scattered between them were the instrument cases, laying on their side and hanging open.

The mess made Gabe want to strangle the idiots that left such chaos. This was not his idea of a break.

With a huff, he kicked the crates to the side to form a path. It was amazing; out of four-square feet, the others had managed to replicate Hurricane Katrina.

"Want a hand?"

Gabe turned to find Harley leaning in the doorway, watching the roadie kick the crates around.

Gabe scowled at him. "Shouldn't you be terrorising young children somewhere?"

"I don't know why you think I'm such a bad person." Harley walked over and picked up a case. "Maybe you can enlighten me while we clean this up."

Gabe snatched the case back and glared at him. "I don't know why you're suddenly interested in the task of a roadie but I don't like it. Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

He gestured around them. "This. Taking an interest, helping me. You've never cared about what goes on backstage before."

"Maybe I've found something to spark my interest." Harley replied coolly, briefly glancing at him.

"Don't do that." Gabe growled in warning.

"And what would that be exactly?"

Harley picked up a crate and tossed it to the side dismissively. Gabe watched him for a moment, anger building before he replied.

"Take an interest. If you're looking for some sort of answer you aren't going to find it down here in the pits. Whatever self-fulfilling crisis you think you're having, take it away from here."

"I'm not having any sort of crisis, I'm simply lending a hand. It is my band after all."

Gabe's mouth snapped shut in an instant and Harley flicked a cool gaze toward the boy. "Wow, did I actually just render you speechless? That would be a first."

"This is my job." Gabe glared. "Not your personal chew-toy."

The drummer chose not to respond. Instead, he continued putting away crates which only aggravated Gabe further. With a huff, Gabe picked up a case and began organising the mess.

They worked in silence before Harley spoke up again. "I noticed you were monitoring levels during the sound check today."

"Congratulations, your eyes work."

"I didn't know you did that."

"I don't very often. Only when needed."

"I get the feeling you only do things when it's needed."

The crate dropped from Gabe's hand as his gaze snapped up at the drummer with a vicious glare. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Harley shrugged. "I just meant that you seem like a person who doesn't want much."

"There is nothing to want."

"Yeah?" the other boy tossed the last crate away before turning to Gabe with a raised eyebrow. "So this is what you see yourself doing for the rest of your life? Becoming a dried up, angry groupie with no sense of self-accomplishment?"

"Fuck you." Gabe growled. "You don't know me."

"No," the drummer agreed. "But you've managed to spike my interest for the moment. What's your story?"

"None of your business."

"Humour me just this once."

Gabe looked up at him. "What? You think we're gonna braid each other's hair and spill our life secrets? This isn't some twelve-year old girl's slumber party. We don't need to talk."

"There's so many walls built around you." Harley continued. "When will it begin to suffocate you from the inside?"

"There's no fresh air on the outside, only what we don't contaminate."

Harley smirked. "Touche."

Gabe flipped closed the last instrument case and stood up. "Okay, good talk. Let's never do this again."

He began to exit the dock but stopped when he heard Harley scoff. "Stubborn."

Gabe turned around. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I didn't say anything." the drummer replied with little interest, but the corner of his lip twitched in a smirk.

Gabe's arms fold over his chest. "You know fuck all about me." he seethed. "Don't pretend to."

"You're right. I don't." Harley replied, matching Gabe's stance. "Because you're too stubborn to let anyone in."

Gabe was a professional at concealing his emotions, but his skin began to crawl at the drummer's constant badgering.

"Then again, you know nothing about me. So perhaps it's fair." Harley pondered to himself.

"I don't give a fuck about you."

"I get the sense that's your opinion about everything."

"Fuck you. Why can't you just hang out with your bandmates for once? Why are you so interested in annoying me?

Harley raised an eyebrow with a smile that Gabe wanted to slap off his face. He said, "Careful now. Are you actually asking for an answer? That means I get to ask you one too."

"I don't give a shit about your life. Don't you get that?" Gabe growled in frustration.

"Maybe," Harley replied. "But you still want to know."

When Gabe didn't reply, Harley knew he had him beat. He gestured to the stadium behind them. "All of them in there? Every single last one of them is the same. Eager to please, quiet but accepting, innocent. You're not. You're an outspoken hot-head with no filter. I want to know why."

"Should I be offended?"

Harley raised his head a little. "That's your problem to figure out."

"Fine." Gabe growled. "Are we done?"

Harley looked over him once before nodding in approval. "We're done."

"Thank fuck." Gabe sighed, exasperated. Turning on his heel, he moved to leave the loading dock.

"Oh, and Gabe?"

Reluctantly, he turned to meet the other boy's expression.

Harley smiled dangerously at him. "You owe me an answer."

"You haven't even asked a question."

"Not yet."

"So when?"

"Right now that's not your concern." Harley flicked him an annoyed look. "Go away."