by Salsbury, JB
With a dissatisfied grunt, Dad wipes his mouth with a balled-up paper napkin. “You’re always hungry.”
“I need to run out for a bit.” I grab my plate to toss in the garbage.
“Where you going?” My dad’s gruff question calls the eyes of Paul and Creeper.
“Personal errand.”
All three men drop their gazes to their plates and I inwardly grin. Benefit of being one of the only women on the crew? Alluding to anything personal makes them all think period and a woman’s menstrual cycle is man-repellant.
I jog out the back of the arena and around to the front where my Uber sits, idling. I dip into the back seat, unseen.
“Where to?” the driver says.
“Craftworld on 31st Street. My phone says it's ten miles from here.” I show him the map on my phone, and he takes off.
I’m there and back in under thirty minutes. I have the driver drop me off in the back by my bus so I can smuggle in the contraband and hide it in my bunk.
I’m going to need some help with this next part, so I hunt down Paul and find him on his bus, sprawled out on the couch and playing a video game with Rooney.
“Paul, can I talk to you for a second?”
He pulls his eyes from the television and a slow grin pulls at his lips. “Sure, what’s up?” The way his gaze slides up my body makes me feel as though I need a shower.
“I have special instructions from Jesse for tonight’s show, but it’s a surprise and I can’t tell you exactly what it is. But I need access to a box truss.”
“You’re not licensed to be up there.” His eyes narrow. “Why would Jesse go to you for this special request? Why not go to one of the riggers?”
I act as casually as I possibly can and shrug. “I’m always thrown the grunt work. You know that.”
Eventually he sets down his controller and stands. “Show me what you need done. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you so—”
“On one condition.” He holds me at the hip and I struggle not to smack his hand away. “I miss you.”
I lean around him to see Rooney engrossed in the game. “You miss me? You see me every day.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Paul gets closer. I shift on my feet a little to put space between us without making it obvious.
“Kiss me.”
This fucking guy. “Or what? You won’t help me out?”
“Kiss me and find out.”
My mom didn’t intentionally teach me a lot, but I learned a ton from watching her. Mostly I learned the things I will never do. Number one, I’ll never use my body or my sexuality to get things from men.
I shove him away. “Forget it. I’ll do it myself.”
“You could try.” He chuckles.
“You’re not the only rigger on the crew, dickhead.” I stomp out of his bus, wishing I’d slapped his smug-fucking-face.
“Tommy, wait up!” he says from behind me.
Fuck that guy.
“Don’t be mad.” He’s smiling, I can hear it. “Hey.” He grabs my elbow. “Chill out, it was a joke.”
I pull my arm from his hold. “I’m not laughing.”
“Everything okay over here?”
I whirl around to see Ethan’s long legs eating up the blacktop between his bus and Paul and me.
“Everything’s fine,” Paul says then mumbles, “Prick.”
Ethan’s wearing a pair of black joggers and a white T-shirt that hugs his broad chest. His hair is damp around his face as if he just got back from a run. “Tom?” His honey-colored eyes are warm on me. “You okay?”
“Yes. Paul was just apologizing for being a complete cocksucker.” I glare at Paul.
Ethan crosses his arms, a tiny smirk on his lips as he eyes Paul. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”
“Dude.” Paul mirrors Ethan’s stance, making me feel like a cat in the middle of a dogfight. “Who are you, her bodyguard?”
“If she needs one.” Ethan tilts his head and manages to make the move look threatening. “Does she need one, Peter?”
“It’s Paul,” he corrects.
Ethan shrugs. “You look more like a Peter to me. Or a Dick.”
“Fuck you—”
I make a choking sound and grab my throat, coughing and hacking and struggling to breathe. “Choking… on… testosterone.” The tension between them ebbs and I look between the men. “If you two are finished, I have some work to get back to.”
“Right,” Paul says. “I’ll help you out.”
Ethan holds up his hand. “Easy there, Joe Goldberg.”
“Who?” Paul says.
“Forget it. I need a word with Tommy.”
“Pretty sure she just said she has work to—”
“Ugh.” I slump over dramatically. “Stop already. Paul, I’ll meet you inside.”
He eyes me with suspicion. “Are you sure—”
“Go.”
He casts Ethan one more glance before walking toward the loading dock.
“Were you spying on me?”
Ethan’s eyes snap to mine with a tiny flicker of panic. “What? No!”
“So you’re telling me in the ten seconds between me leaving Paul’s bus and him chasing me, you just happened to be walking by?”
His stare is firm and unrelenting as if he’s trying to see inside my head. “Fine. I saw you go into his bus. I was timing it to see if you were… if you and Dick were—”
“Fucking.”
“Good God, woman. Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a mouth like a truck driver?”
“I was raised by truck drivers.” I motion toward the buses, trucks, and the people milling around them.
“Good point.”
I mock bow before him. “Pardon me if my frank speech offends your delicate sensitivities.”
“On the contrary.” His expression softens. “You confound me.”
“Contrary? Confound? How old are you, eighty?”
He chuckles and the sound makes me smile. “Too old for you, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“Life is so unfair,” I say dryly. “Now, if we’re all done here, there really is something I need to do.”
“As long as you’re sure you’re all right.” He dips his chin, giving him an almost menacing look. “I don’t like Peter touching you.”
“I’m not a fan either, trust me.”
“Next time, I won’t be so polite.”
“No offense, but I can take care of myself.”
He nods. “If you say so.”
A string of tension pulls tight between us and not only can I not pull away, I don’t want to. What is this tangible thing swirling between us? Ethan is a master of seduction. Is he using his sexual mojo on me right now?
I blink out of the haze and throw my feet into action. “Gotta go!”
“See you around, Tommy,” he says low and slow and how the fuck can his voice alone make my stomach jump and tumble?
I throw up a middle-finger salute and mouth, “What is wrong with me?” as I pick up my pace to a jog.
Chapter Eight
Ethan
“Did you have a princess in your bed?”
My eyes dart open to find Elliot, once again, staring at me in that creepy-redrum-kid kind of way at the edge of my bunk. “What?”
“Tinkerbell?” She swipes her hand along my pillow and holds up her palm that’s covered in gold glitter. “Pixie dust. Do you sleep with fairies?”
I groan and roll to my back, feeling the gold glitter cut into my skin.
“Elliot,” Ben whispers, “leave Ethan alone. He had a rough night.”
“It’s all right. I’m up.” I throw back my comforter, tossing a cloud of glitter into the air. “How the hell is this even possible? I took two showers last night and this shit is still everywhere.”
Ben sucks air through his teeth. “Glitter is the gift that keeps on giving. You’ll never be rid of it.”
“That’s fucking great.” I slip out of my bunk and glitt
er rains down around my feet.
“Good morning, Edward Cullen,” Ashleigh says from the kitchen.
“Who’s Edward Cullen?” Ben ushers Elliot to the table for breakfast.
“He’s a vampire from Twilight.” I knock glitter from my arms and stomach, then shake a ton from my hair. “Great film. I’m surprised it never won any awards.”
Ash pours milk into a glass for Elliot and shakes her head. “You have the worst taste in movies.”
“Can you believe this crap?” I motion to my still-glistening body. “How much glitter did she dump on me?”
Ben rubs his upper lip, trying hard to hide his laughter. “At least twenty gallons.”
“Twenty gallons?” Fucking Tommy.
Halfway through our show last night, out of nowhere, I was hit from the sky with wave after wave of gold glitter. The shower was so unexpected that by the time I figured out where it was coming from so I could escape the onslaught, it was too late and I was coated, head to toe, and standing in a pile of the shit. It was in my nose, my ears, down my shirt, and somehow even my pants. The crowd went wild, thought it was fucking hilarious, and Jesse laughed so hard, he couldn’t catch a breath long enough to sing.
I looked for her scheming ass after the show, but Brent pulled us in for an after party we were required to attend for a friend of a friend of Arenfield. So there I was looking like a goddamn Christmas tree ornament while I signed autographs and took a million photos with fans. I became a viral hashtag on Insta. #BedazzledBassist
She’s going to pay for this.
I drop into a chair by the window and peek outside to see the crew unloading equipment for tonight’s show. “We have tomorrow off, right?”
“Yep, in New York.”
Good. That’ll give me a decent hotel shower to try to rid myself of all this fucking glitter—hold on… is that? I lean closer to the window and watch as a small roadie emerges from the back of a shipping container.
“I’ll be right back.” I dart to the door and out into the humid Cleveland air.
“Ethan, you’re—” The door closes behind me, cutting off Ashleigh's words.
Tommy sees me right away and I prepare to chase her if she runs, but she shocks me by dropping what she’s doing and walking quickly toward me.
“What are you doin—”
I wrap her in my arms, her cheek pressed to my chest and cutting off her words. “I’m hugging you.” I rub my torso against hers, shaking my head with a satisfied grin as gold glitter rains onto her black hat and shirt. “Don’t you like hugs?”
I continue to wiggle around, transferring as much glitter as I can from my body to hers. Speaking of her body, she does have boobs under those big shirts. I can feel them pressed against my abdomen, the tips hardening as I create friction between us.
“Ethan?” Her voice is tense and shaky. I pull back enough to look at her. Her arms are stiff at her sides and her eyes are wide when she looks at me. “You’re in your boxers.”
I freeze, taking a mental inventory of my body. Pale blue boxers. A woman in my arms, pressed against me as I rub myself on her, and my dick is hardening. Quickly. The thin material of my shorts gives zero resistance.
“I’m so sorry.” I close my eyes and think about my grandmother. Tom tries to slip from my arms. “Hold on, don’t move.”
“What?” She tries to wiggle out of my arms. “Someone might see us.”
“Which is exactly why you can’t move or they’ll see.”
“See what—oh my God! Are you… is that…”
“A boner? Yeah. Shhh… stop talking and sounding all happy-surprised. It’s not helping.”
“Happy-surprised? I’m not happy-surprised, I’m mortified!”
I grit my teeth. “But you’re talking in a high voice my dick interprets as giddy appreciation. Say something else. Sound disappointed, hurry.”
“I swear I will cut your shit off.”
I groan as even her anger turns me on. “Dammit, that’s making it worse.”
“Ethan!”
The passion she wraps around my name… “Woman, are you trying to make me come? Just stop talking!”
She growls and puts as much distance between us as possible with my arms still wrapped around her shoulders.
I chant, “Grandma. Baseball. Stomach flu. Berets.”
“Berets?”
“They’re so ugly.” I’m breaking a sweat trying to fight back the rush of blood headed south. “You should wear one. It would make you easier to be around.”
“Let me go.”
I blow out a few deep breaths, feeling the blood return to my brain, and step back from her, making sure to cup my still-firm junk so I don’t scare her. “I only wanted to get you back for the glitter thing.”
My face is getting hot, which is ridiculous. I’ve been more naked than this in front of more people and felt zero shame.
She holds out her arms, displaying the gold flecks on her black sweatshirt. “You got me. Now maybe you can go back to your bus instead of flashing the world your assets.”
“Good idea. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you around.” I turn and scurry back to my bus with my junk in both hands. “That was fu—friggin’ humiliating.”
Ashleigh’s grinning wide. “I tried to tell you to put some pants on, but you took off like a rocket.”
Speaking of rockets… I snag a pair of jeans and slide them on.
“You like her.” Those three little words come from Elliot, even as she doesn’t take her eyes off her coloring book.
“Do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I do not.”
“Uh huh.”
“Nuh uh!”
“As thrilling as this conversation is, we need to get ready to go to the Science Center.” Ben motions for Elliot to join him in the back of the bus.
They disappear behind the closed door as Ash grabs a fresh cup of coffee and hands it to me. “I think Elliot might be right.”
I sip the coffee and shrug. “I do not like that girl.”
“Okay, I believe you.” She sits across from me, looking at her phone. “She’s not at all the type of woman you’d usually go for.”
“Exactly.”
“She’s constantly making you look like an idiot in front of people.” She slides her finger across her phone screen, paying half attention to me and the conversation.
“Pain in my ass.”
“Right. The pranks, covering you with glitter, she’s tossing your entire life upside down.”
“Totally! See, you get it!”
Her blue eyes lift, along with the corners of her mouth. “I’ve seen you watching her. And clearly your body’s interested.”
I roll my eyes. “My body is always interested. That doesn’t mean—”
“You’re falling for her.”
Hot coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I sputter and cough and struggle to breathe. “No way!”
“Whatever you say.”
Taylor
Sound check for tonight’s show and I’m distracted. I never get distracted.
Vocals are getting buried. Ethan’s muscular torso.
Kick competing with the bass. Ethan’s strong arms around me.
Frequency interference. Ethan hardening against me.
My face ignites with the memory. Could he sense my inexperience? My embarrassment? I tried to hide my face, tried to steady my voice, but a man with his knowledge probably could tell right away that I’m a virgin. And yet, being in his arms that way made me curious to know more. To learn what exactly makes a man like him lose control the way he did.
“Anyone home?” A big hand waves in front of my face.
I leave those thoughts behind and focus on Dixie, who’s staring at me with a knowing glint in her eye.
She says, “You disappeared on me there.”
“Sorry, I was thinking the guitar was getting buried.”
She smirks. “Bullshit. You practically have hearts in your eye
s. I think I know exactly who you were thinking about.”
“You do?” Am I that obvious?
“Yes, of course.” She rocks her muscular shoulder into my side. “He’s pretty to look at, isn’t he?”
I sigh, because denying it would only give me away. Ethan is gorgeous, that handsome motherfucker. “I hate it, but yes. He’s not hard on the eyes.”
“He likes you too, ya know.”
I whip my head around. “He does not.”
Her laughter is rough and smoky sounding. “Oh please, it’s so obvious!”
Did she see me and Ethan this morning?
“It’s not what you think—”
“Shh. Shh. He’s coming.” Her back stiffens.
I casually look over, expecting to see Ethan and his gloriously perfect face, only to find Paul strutting toward us. I frown. Of course she thinks I like Paul. She caught us kissing on the last tour and I made her swear she wouldn’t tell a soul. I’d rather she think I like Paul than know the truth. At least until I work these ridiculous feelings out of my system. Do whatever it takes to make it go away.
“Ladies,” Paul says, all smarmy-like as he settles in next to us.
Dixie nudges me with an elbow.
I mentally roll my eyes. “Paul.”
Jesse and his band are the next to sound check and I have an insensible urge to check my face in the mirror. That shit has to stop.
Ryder settles in behind the drums and I keep my eyes cast forward to avoid searching Ethan out. Eventually Jesse takes the stage. Ben too. I feel my head start to turn when I’m saved by a tug at the hem of my T-shirt.
I look down to see a little girl with shiny brown curls and big inquisitive eyes staring up at me. “Hi?”
“Are you Tommy?” she says.
“Yes. And you are?”
“Elliot Langley.”
Ah, so this is Ben’s daughter, Jesse’s niece. I hold out my hand and she takes it in a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Ethan told me you know a lot of stuff.”
As if moved by hearing his name, my eyes slip to the stage to find him settling his bass over his shoulder while watching us from beneath a curtain of shaggy hair. Is he smiling?
“Do you?” she asks.
“Um—”
