Because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, swimming past him to the pool’s ladder.
But just as I did, I brushed against his erect penis.
Oh please god, don’t let him float on his back right now.
I scrambled up the ladder and turned to find Stone’s gaze running over me. I scooped up a thick, white towel, wrapped it around myself and gathered my things.
Just before I left, I turned to see him treading water in the middle of the pool.
“See ya later, Coral. Thanks for the meeting and… stuff.” Then he turned back toward the sunset and we each caught the last couple seconds of it.
Chapter 19
CORAL
“Jesus, Coral. How bad could it be?”
This was not happening. My boss, one of the people I looked up to most, was putting the screws to me.
Did I look like a fucking groupie? Did I look like someone who stayed up all hours of the night drinking and smoking god-knows-what, only to do it all over again the next day?
I knew how rockers lived, even if I didn’t listen to their music. And while I’d finally accepted the inevitability having these guys as clients, I sure as hell didn’t want to share accommodations with them.
In fact, I didn’t want to stay anywhere near them, and I certainly did not want to go on tour with them.
But Randall didn’t see it like I did. And next thing I knew, he was driving me to Los Angeles International Airport to fly to Chicago. I’d meet the guys there, where I’d join them in their tour bus.
I didn’t know which was worse—the bus or the guys. But together, they left me horrified.
And feeling like I was going to vomit.
Bryan pulled up to the departures curb and smiled. “Coral. I know you’re not crazy about this arrangement. But please give it a try. Bryan feels like the guys respect you enough to listen to you and stay out of trouble. If it’s horrible after a few days, let me know and you can come home.”
Gee, thanks. I didn’t know sacrificial lamb was part of my job description.
“Here’s your ticket. A driver will pick you up in Chicago so you can rendezvous with the rest of the band.”
The horror on my face must have been pretty obvious.
“Coral. It will be fine. Now get going. You’ll miss your flight.”
I grabbed my wheelie suitcase from the back seat and slammed Randall’s door as hard as I could for emphasis.
He was going to owe me for this. Big time.
By the time I exited arrivals at Chicago O’Hare and found the driver with the sign bearing my name, I’d worked myself into such a tizzy I could barely speak. The flight had given me the perfect amount of time to torment myself, thinking about how terrible the new few days of my life were going be—sharing a bus with three guys who thought their shit didn’t stink.
What would I do for privacy?
Where would I go to the bathroom?
How would I do my job?
Where would I sleep?
The list went on and on, and each time it got longer, I was that much closer to losing my mind.
“How far is the meeting point?” I asked the driver.
He pointed. “Just up here, ma’am.”
Shit. Maybe I could fake sick. Or trip and break my leg. Either of those would give me the perfect reason to turn around and head back home, right?
“Miss James, here we go,” the driver said, jerking me out of my tortured reverie. “I see Bryan right over there. Let me take you and your things to him.”
Did he have his dog with him? Really?
“Coral is here!” Bryan yelled like I was his long-lost buddy.
He actually threw his arms around me while Pixie humped my leg.
I patted his back until he let me go.
Jesus. What was I in for?
“Why are there two buses?” I asked.
He gestured toward the first. “This one is for Stone, Ennis, and Hugh. That one over there is for the rest of the band, all the equipment, and me. And of course little Pixie.” He picked her up and kissed her drooly mouth.
The buses did look big and luxurious.
I headed toward the equipment bus. I wanted to get my bag underneath before they closed everything up.
But Bryan caught my arm. “Oh, Coral, over here. You’re riding in the bus with the guys.”
Chapter 20
CORAL
Was this just shit on Coral month? Seriously, universe. What did I do wrong? Who did I offend so badly?
I held on to the handle of my wheelie bag for balance. Falling over in front of a client was never a good move.
“Um, Bryan, no way am I going to be the only one to ride with the guys.” I continued walking toward the equipment bus.
This shit was non-negotiable.
That’s when I felt his hand on my arm. “Coral, there’s no room for you on the equipment bus. You have to ride with the guys in the front.”
He must have noticed I was green around the gills. “I’m sorry. But there’s no other way. Adding you at the last minute like this didn’t give us many options.”
Well, fuck me.
I took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to go postal on a client. “Okay. I understand. But why don’t you ride with them?”
He put his hands on his hips—perhaps signaling that he’d already thought this through? “The point of having you on the tour, Coral, is that you wield a different sort of authority over the guys than me or anyone else. We feel you can keep them in line.”
Stone was right. I was a babysitter.
I didn’t get paid enough for this shit and would be bringing this up to Randall next time I saw him.
I wheeled my ass over to the guys’ bus where the driver smiled at me and grabbed my bag from me. I hoisted my tote on my shoulder, and forced myself to climb the bus’s narrow steps, as if on a death march. One foot in front of the other, and repeat.
When I got to the top step and turned the corner, I found Hugh, Stone, and Ennis sitting on an upholstered banquette.
Doing shots. With rock music blaring in the background.
Thank god I’d brought ear plugs and a good set of headphones.
A quick scan proved the bus to be nice enough, not that I was any more pleased about being there. The dark paneling, cushy seating, and multiple TV screens made it seem somewhat civilized.
Luxury on a bus. Yeah, right.
“Coral’s here!” Stone yelled. “Get over here and have a shot with us.”
Here we go.
Dropping my tote, I approached the table and Ennis scooted over to make room for me. I gladly grabbed a seat next to him. After all, he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kiss me. I needed to keep shit professional.
“Bottoms up!” Stone shouted as the three guys downed shots of Jack Daniels.
As soon as he was done, he jumped up and pulled a clean glass from the cupboard. He filled it, and pushed it toward me.
All eyes were on me.
Oh god. I didn’t do shots of anything.
“Oh, I don’t know guys. I have some work to do,” I said, pushing it back in Stone’s direction.
They shrugged, looking at each other. And poured themselves another.
Oh what the fuck.