“Goddamn,” Austin yells.
The two women scream. Their movements are slowed, their eyes glassy, their skirts and tops too damn small. They’re high and possibly drunk, I don’t want them here.
“Take them out,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“I thought you said he was down to party,” one of the women whines.
“He will be,” Austin coos, sliding his hand around her waist. “You two go stand right outside. We’ll talk to him.”
I almost snort. He isn’t talking me into shit. Not a goddamn thing. Those sluts can just stay outside. Crossing my arms over my chest, I widen my stance as I look at two men who are supposed to be my friends. They aren’t. Louis, Wyatt, Ford, and Rylan would never pull this shit, not ever.
“I’m not partying. I don’t want skanks on my bus and I don’t want booze brought in. What don’t you guys fucking understand?” I shout.
Austin chuckles, lifting his hand and running it through his hair. “Just thought you could let loose a little. You’ve been fucking uptight since you walked on this bus,” he points out.
“I’m not uptight. I’m sober, writing, and in a relationship.”
Jesse snorts. “Uptight. You’re a fucking beast, brother. Always down for the lifestyle, you can’t puss out now.”
“The lifestyle?” I ask.
“Sex, drugs, rock-and-roll,” Austin says with a grin.
“This isn’t the eighties and I’m not in a hair band. I’m over thirty. I’m lookin’ to settle down and stay sober.”
Austin snorts at the same time Jesse chuckles. “Don’t fuck up the band because you want to be sober. Do you know how many artists ruin their careers with sobriety and relationships?” he asks, saying the words as if they leave a bad taste in his mouth.
I hear a thud behind me, but I ignore it, my entire body beginning to shake with anger.
“You’re idiots,” Brian announces. Turning my head, I look back at him in surprise. “You even hear the shit that’s been coming out of Beau’s guitar and the lyrics that accompany it?” he asks.
Austin and Jesse look to each other, then turn their gazes back to us. “You haven’t because you’re too worried about getting laid by cheap, easy pussy. Getting drunk on the same kind of booze and whatever else you fuckin’ put in your bodies. Beaumont isn’t just some rock star here to bring the women to sit on your dicks, he’s a fuckin’ talent in his own right and you’re just being fucking assholes.”
“Oh, fuck off, Brian. You think you’re better than all of us, you aren’t. You live a sad, pathetic life,” Austin shouts.
Brian bends over slightly, a loud guffaw escaping his mouth. “You are idiots,” he says between his laughter. “Got a wife and a daughter at home. I’m livin’ a sweeter life than any of y’all could ever dream of. Beaumont wants a piece of that and I’m damn proud to call him my friend.”
Without another word, Austin and Jesse turn around and leave us alone. I’m not surprised they didn’t argue anymore. If shit doesn’t go their way, they are honestly too lazy to fight about it. They cut and run.
“You mean all that?” I ask.
Brian grins, reaching out, he wraps his fingers around my shoulder and gives me a small shake. “Every fuckin’ word.”
“I’m afraid I’m nothing but a fraud,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, his eyes finding mine and focusing on them. “Pure fuckin’ talent, Beau. Best guitar player I’ve ever come across. What you have can’t be replicated because it’s unique to you. They know that, they’re just selfish dicks. The women want you and that pisses them off because you’re not available to be their wingman anymore.”
“Fuck,” I grind out.
Brian laughs, his hand falling from my shoulder. “True fuckin’ story. Now, I want to hear what you were working on last night. This album going to be all haunting ballads, or what?”
“I need a few upbeat songs, but I’ve been focusing on the haunting shit.” I grin.
“Fuck if I care if the album is all ballads, you write a damn good fuckin’ ballad. We got enough fast rock in our repertoire to keep people happy at concerts.”
“Need somethin’ with a good beat for the single though.”
Brian hums. “Yeah, let’s hear this new one. I liked what you had, maybe we can just change the tempo and speed?”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I glance down to see that Hutton has messaged me. I make myself a mental note to send her a quick reply once I’ve played the new song for Brian. One run through turns into two, and by the time I am able to reply again, it’s been four hours.
We’ve figured out this song and Brian thinks it will make a perfect single. Shoving all of my annoyance at Austin and Jesse to the side, I actually can’t wait for them to hear it, then add their parts to it to make sure that it’s going to work as well as I think it will.
Chapter Twenty-Three
HUTTON
It takes three days of radio silence for Beaumont to finally call me. My phone rings in my hand and the first thing that I want to do is send it straight to voicemail, but something inside of me demands that I answer. Demands to know why he hasn’t called me, what his excuse could possibly be, and soothe that ache inside of me.
I haven’t slept well in the three days he’s avoided me, ignored me, or whatever he’s been doing. I hate it, and then again, I expected it, but even when you expect and wait for something to happen it can still be a shock when it all becomes actuality.
“Fuck, darlin’ girl,” he groans as soon as I say hello.
I don’t respond to him, instead, I walk outside through my back door, toward my porch chair and sink down.
It’s late, for me, well after ten in the evening. I’ve worked all day, made myself dinner, cleaned it up and cleaned my house a bit. Now, I’m sitting in this chair, one that he sat in not long ago and held me. It all feels so bittersweet and my heart feels hollow.
“You there?” he finally asks after a moment of silence.
“I am.”
He chuckles, but I can tell that it’s strained. “You’re pissed,” he points out.
Still, I don’t respond. I am pissed, but more than that, I’m hurt.
“I’ve been writing during the day, playing shows at night. Trying to sleep in between,” he explains. “I didn’t answer your text. I got in a big thing with a couple of my bandmates. I knew this was going to be a stressful tour, but I didn’t really know everything that would come my way.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a second before I let it out. “I don’t expect you to always answer me, to call me five times a day or anything like that. But Beaumont, I haven’t heard from you in over three days. I can only imagine the worst of the worst.”
“I know, fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” I ask.
“As sorry as I can be, Hutton.”
“What does that mean?” I ask softly.
I don’t even attempt to hide the hurt in my voice, there’s no point to it. He clears his throat, then I hear what sounds like a door closing and he lets out a sigh.