I don't realize I'm shaking until I try screwing the cap back over my bottle of Dr. Pony.
A shudder flies through me, and I almost hunch over from where I sit on an equipment crate located to the side of my booth.
Most of the crowd has cleared away. Gray silence fills the room, broken occasionally by the random gold chirp of drunken ponies being escorted out of the dance hall by Sacramentoats' finest bouncers. I owe it all to Beau, however. As always, he's quick to form a one-zebra blockade against the waves of fans wanting to flounce my way on a night when I'm not feeling it.
And right now, I am definitely... definitely not feeling it.
Just what went wrong?
I zoned out completely. I never zone out. Not during a session.
I almost lost the beat entirely. It's like I'm a flailing amateur all over again.
Tartarus on fire, even my thoughts are blatantly egotistical.
I need an interruption. Not something purple and velvet. My ears still ring with it, but not in a joyful way. All I taste is strings of melancholy, thoughts that were hidden, but never forgotten. Things that I thought I could stave off with music... with more melodic things...
The things Tavi says.
I saver the succulent edges of her voice, until they fade away into her mind, leaving me with a tan breath strung between turquoise spheres. A bridge.
A chill runs through my spine, almost enough to pop loose a sob.
Praise Celestia that Beau decides to shuffle on up.
"Whew! Girl, I dunno what you're better at: knockin' 'em dead or knockin' 'em drunk!" He smirks, his voice a burning amber torch. It warms me, and I respond with a genuine smile. "Call that another tour in the bucket! Yeesh... is it just me, or did Baltimare smell a teensy bit better than this gravel pit?"
I shrug, gazing over at my equipment. Most of it is still unpacked. A magenta sigh escapes my lips.
"Hey! Dun worry about it!" Roadie Beau waves with a smirk. "I'll get my colts on it. I trust them stallions with my life, and you can trust them with yer stuff. Fo' sho."
I gulp, then nod his way.
"Hey..." He leans in, eyebrows wagging. Uh oh. "Remember what I mentioned to ya three days ago?"
A jolt runs through me upon hearing that. Have I done three sessions already? All the evenings feel as though they've congealed into a tan ball, running down hill and splashing into a red mess.
"Y'know... about the dinner party?" He grins wide. "There'll be tons of happenin' artists just dyin' to meet you. I may have... uhhh..." He coughs out the size of his muzzle. "...mentioned to at least half of 'em that you'd be in town. Would be a shame to disappoint a crowd of humble musicians who only wanna tell you in person just how much they not-so-secretly worship you and what you do."
I adjust my shades, glancing away from him and fidgeting. I think about Octavia. I imagine her curled up before the fireplace with Scribbler, awash in orange purrs and contented purple breaths. Then I remind myself that absolutely none of these things are guaranteed to be happening, and right now the only thing I want to do is return to my hotel room and take a long warm shower so that the world will dissolve into a fine red mist around me.
"Please, V! If not for them, do it for yourself!"
I tun towards him with an eyebrow sharply raised.
"Ya heard me!" Beau winks. "I can tell yer all outside on your insides. A lil' flank-over-elbow from bein' on tour for so long, huh? Well, I know it's a long train ride back home, so why not live it up a bit while you're here? It's not like there'll be zillions of ponies there, raving! I'm talkin' about a small, exclusive dinner party! You don't even have to be the center of attention! I'll be there to make sure everything's cool and cozy!"
I close my eyes, slowly shaking my head while waving a hoof at him.
"Awwwww... don't tell me you're that gassed."
My throat wrestles with a lump halfway down my neck. I visit a naked moment nearly an hour ago, when I stood like a prisoner behind my dj booth, deaf as well as mute, where only her rich, velvety voice could rescue me--and the dance hall in turn. Nothing can be a substitute. I know this too well. So why pretend otherwise?
"... ... ...there'll be plenty of Dr. Pony there," Beau adds.
My eyes fly open. I look at the empty bottle in my grasp. My ears twitch.
"Mmmmm...?" He tilts his head aside, smiling evilly. "Hook, line, and sinker?"
With a groan, I stand up, turning towards him and gesturing out the nearest door.
"Hah!" An auburn clap. "Gotcha! Let's make like the Stirropean Underground and burn, girl!"
I shrug, following him with an amused grin.
So long as there's Dr. Pony...
...I can deal with kidney stones when I'm dead.