He sits down next to me. “Being on tour is the hardest and most rewarding part of doing what we do. It won’t be as difficult once this is all over.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Complicated—that’s a whole other ballgame.”
“What do you mean?”
“Adam is a complicated creature.”
Someone races past the doorway. I look at Freddie for an explanation. He rolls his eyes. “Kurt must be at it again.”
I laugh, but it’s not genuine.
A moment later, Adam appears, stretching against the doorframe. The tag in his shirt is in front. I walk over and finger it. “Are you sure you want me here? Seems like you’re burning the candle at both ends. You can’t even dress yourself properly. Maybe you need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He pulls me to him and I smell his minty-fresh breath. “Right now all I want is you.”
He leads me down the hall, past his room and into Collin’s.
“Why are we here?”
“He’s out for the night, and my place is a sight. Dirty clothes everywhere. I zonked out and didn’t have a chance to tidy up.” He starts removing my clothing even before the door is shut.
“Is it true? That all you want is me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
I shrug as he removes my pants. “Sometimes I wonder.”
He pulls down my panties and puts his mouth on me. Hard. Then he withdraws for a second. “Maybe this will make you forget.”
Forget what? That I wonder about such things, or that I’m not really all he wants?
“Something wrong, luv?”
I smile and shake my head and then pretend to have the most awesome orgasm he’s ever given me. I even make sure to squeeze his fingers inside me to make it believable. I know how upset he gets when I don’t come. As if I’m broken if he can’t get me off.
Ten minutes after I’ve pleasured him, and he’s fucked me just how he likes it, I’m lying beside him. “What’s going to happen in two weeks when the tour ends?”
“I’m going to take a bloody holiday, that’s what. Lie on some beach where no fans can find me and drink my way to oblivion every night.”
“That sounds kind of nice. Am I invited?”
He stiffens. “Uh, it’s a tradition after our tours that my mates and I go alone.”
I try not to let him see my disappointment. “Maybe we could do something after? Like go out to dinner in a real restaurant?”
He kisses my temple, then gets out of bed and quickly throws his shirt back on—the same way he did before, with the tag in front.
I eye it suspiciously.
“I think that can be arranged. I’ll have Freddie clear my calendar the week we get back from Fiji. Sound good?”
I nod.
He hands me my clothes. That’s my cue to leave.
I’m still exhausted when I get back to my room, but not so much that I can’t listen to Reckless Alibi’s full album.
Chapter Four
Crew
I stand in the empty arena, watching the backup singer for White Poison do a sound check. She starts by talking into a mic, then she hums a tune. Then she sings part of one of their songs.
It still pisses me off that we don’t get to do a sound check. Do they want us to sound like crap when we get onstage? Our first two nights were great, we killed it. But maybe that was just luck. If the amps aren’t calibrated perfectly, Brad’s bass can overtake Liam’s guitar. My mic could be set to the wrong volume, and Garrett’s voice might be the only one the crowd hears.
I get it. White Poison is who everyone comes to see, but you’d think we’d at least get to make sure we’re heard properly. Don’t even get me started on the other things we’re not allowed to do, like look at the band. It actually says that in our contract. “As the opening act, you are not to make eye contact with the headliners unless headliners engage in conversation. The opening act will yield to headliners in all ways, allowing them to pass in the hallways without interference and have sole use of elevators and green-room facilities.”
I contemplate eating the unappealing sandwich I was given half an hour ago after everyone from the White Poison setup crew had first pick at the buffet.
Suddenly I’m no longer hungry and my eyes become glued to the woman onstage, stunned at what she’s singing.
Liam appears beside me. “Holy shit.”
We stare at her. Garrett and Brad join us. I’m pretty sure our jaws are touching the floor as she belts out one of our songs.
“What the hell was that?” Garrett says when it’s over.
Liam grins and lets out a long, low whistle. “That is exactly what we’ve been missing.”
“Bullshit,” I say.
Liam shakes his head. “You mean to tell me you don’t think she nailed it?”
Garrett elbows him and laughs. “Crew doesn’t want to lose his job.”
“Fuck off,” I say.
Liam motions to the woman. “I’m serious, guys. Half our songs have parts that would sound better sung by a woman.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it. He knows better. I can’t believe he’s bringing this shit up again, but he does every so often to test the waters.
“The songs are good as they are,” I say, walking away.
“Crew, just think about it,” he says. “We need a female singer. You know it, and I know it.”
I turn around. “I’m not having this conversation again.”
I go backstage and stomp down the hallway, only to bump into the woman who was just onstage.
“Oof!” she says when we collide. “Sorry.” It looks as if she recognizes me. She holds out a hand. “Chris, uh, Crew … sorry, I’m not sure what to call you. I’m Bria.”
We shake, but my bandmates appear before I can respond.
“That was some amazing shit you just sang,” Liam says.
Bria turns bright red. “Oh, gosh. You heard that?”
“We did,” he says. “And we’re damn flattered you know our music.”
“I didn’t,” she says. “Not until the other day when I heard you. I looked you up that night.” She looks at us one at a time. “Liam Campbell, lead guitarist. Garrett Young, drums. Brad Templeton, bassist who recently joined the band. And Chris Rewey, lead singer, sometime keyboardist, sometime backup guitarist. You’re really good. I’m Bria Cash.”
“He goes by Crew,” Garrett says, stepping in front of me. “I don’t need a bullshit nickname. You can call me Garrett.”
Garrett never met a girl he wasn’t interested in. I feel something unexpected in my gut, watching him chat her up. Nothing big, just a twinge. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. Like maybe he’s going to make her his next conquest. And for a reason I can’t explain—that doesn’t sit well with me.
Liam and Brad talk to her too. They’re drooling over her—or her voice anyway. I give them a look. They ignore me.
“You want to join us for a bite to eat before the show?” Liam asks.