by Salsbury, JB
She rolls her eyes and makes a sound of disgust.
“Enjoy the show,” he says as he pulls me away.
I put up zero resistance, thankful to put distance between myself and the Tori and Ethan show.
Dad squeezes my neck again. “You all right?”
“Yep.”
I’m sick. I’m afraid of what might happen between Ethan and my mom… my fucking mom! But most of all, I’m afraid of what seeing him with someone else makes me feel.
Ethan
Finding Tommy’s bus after the show took little effort. I knew when I climbed aboard she wouldn’t be on it because she and the crew were busy striking the stage and loading up. I told Ash to go ahead and take off without me, that I’d be riding to Philly with the crew—to which she smiled, gave me a titty-twister, and yelled, “I knew it!”
She probably thinks Tom and I are hooking up. Wishful thinking. I haven’t been able to get the visual of Tom falling apart in my arms out of my mind though.
But Tom was noticeably absent during our show, her mom taking her place side-stage, dancing like a stripper during the entire performance. I managed to sneak by her when she got caught up talking to Yuli, the lead singer of the opening band. Yuli’s going to have his world rocked tonight.
I took a shower on my bus, then ducked into Tommy’s. I’m sprawled out on the couch with only the light from the television as it plays a Sandra Bullock comedy. Such a brilliant film, but I’m not able to focus on the excellent cinematography. Not after the way Tommy and I left things before the show.
The clock ticks by, minutes, hours, and finally at three o’clock in the morning, I hear the big rig engines fire to life. The door of the bus opens and two crewmembers come inside, looking dead on their feet. They see me when they flip on the light and both look at each other, probably assuming I drunkenly stumbled onto the wrong bus.
“Sorry, I needed somewhere to crash tonight. All the happy couples are spending one last night together. I wanted to give them privacy.”
“Sure, man. We don’t have any extra beds, but you’re welcome to the couch.” He rubs his face and tosses his hat into one of the bunks that line the walls, making this place look more like a vampire crypt than a bus.
How many people do they have in here? Our bus has four and it feels cramped.
The guys take turns using the bathroom and disappear into their bunks. One by one, the bus fills with people. I’ve counted seven so far and none of them Tommy.
“Who else are we waiting for?” I hope they assume my question is because I’m getting antsy to hit the road.
“Just one more,” one of the guys says. “Tom’s always the last one.”
“The kid insists on making the rest of us look like lazy fucks,” one dude says before sliding the privacy curtain on his bunk closed.
I smile, knowing from our prank wars that Tom has a competitive streak. Makes sense she’d insist on being the last to walk away from her work. I dig that about her.
The trucks pull away, crew buses follow, and eventually the door opens and Tommy jogs up the steps with her baseball hat on backward. Before she spots me and puts her guard up, I get a glimpse of the real girl, without any pretenses. Her expression relaxed, her eyes tired. Her gaze snaps to mine, and she freezes.
Steel walls fall to shutter her eyes and she glares. “What are you doing here?”
I look behind me toward the bunks. We’re mostly alone, save for the few guys still wandering about and getting ready to bunk up. I pat the couch next to me. “I want to talk to you.”
Her shoulders drop and she shakes her head. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m stuck on your bus for the next eight hours—”
“That’s not my problem. I hope you enjoy watching me sleep.”
I actually would enjoy watching her sleep, and how fucked is that? “It’s about your mom.”
She laughs, but the sound lacks genuine humor. “Spare me the details. My imagination is bad enough, trust me.”
“Taylor.” I use her real name with gentle determination.
Her eyes light with fire and her lips thin. “Don’t expect me to start calling you my stepdad.”
“Enough.” I stand so quickly, she has little time to react before I pull her hard into my arms. Her body stiffens and she doesn’t hug me back. “I didn’t hook up with your mom.”
“How big of you.”
I put my lips to the top of her ball cap. “Why are you so fucking stubborn?”
“Why are you so fucking annoying?”
I roll my eyes to the sky. “Your mom made it really clear that she wanted to work me over in every possible way—”
“This is a great story. What chapter do you shut the fuck up?”
I sigh, breathe, and squeeze her tighter. “All we did was talk about you.”
“Before or after she dropped to her knees and begged for your cock?”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “That mouth.”
She wiggles, a weak attempt to get away, but gives into my arms after a few seconds.
“You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go do whatever it is you need to do to get comfortable and we’ll talk on the couch for a bit?”
She backs up, and I release her only to have her look at me with a skeptical eye. “Why are you doing this?”
If that isn’t the million-dollar question. “Go get comfortable.” I reclaim my spot on the couch.
She doesn’t move.
What happens next can only be attributed to instinct.
I smack her ass. “Go.”
She stumbles forward and growls at me. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Holy shit. I can’t either. But I play it cool, keeping my eyes on the television. “Believe it.”
“God, you’re a dickhead,” she mumbles before disappearing inside the bus bathroom.
I lie back, the cabin lights go off, and the bus lurches forward. A yawn crawls up my throat and my eyelids grow heavy. Tommy’s in the bathroom with the water running. Is she taking a shower?
Whatever. She has to come out of the bathroom eventually, and when she does, I’ll be here waiting.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor
I feel the bus come to a stop, and the sound of the air brakes pulls me from sleep. I stretch as much as I can in my tiny bunk, then remember last night. Ethan’s asleep on the couch.
I took my sweet time getting ready for bed last night. Turned the faucet on low and played a few games on my phone. My intention was to teach that asshole a lesson about ordering me around. I’d make him wait until I was good and damn ready to talk. Eventually I got sick of being stuck in the four-by-four-foot space and came out to find Ethan sound asleep on the couch.
He looked so peaceful. Brown hair tossed over his strong forehead and cheekbones. Black eyelashes fanned out over olive skin. Why does he have to be so pretty?
I listen hard and hear the snores of my crewmates, but no movement. I slip from my bunk and find Ethan is still sound asleep on the couch, the blanket I covered him with still right where I left it.
Figuring the advance person is already in the venue and hard at work, I head to the bathroom and put on my crew uniform. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and tiptoe past a sleeping rock star—when inspiration strikes.
I grab a black Sharpie marker, create a masterpiece, then run like hell.
* * *
“You almost got oil-spotted last night,” Beeker, one of my bus mates and a fellow pusher, says to me over breakfast in the trough. He sets down his plate piled high with eggs, sausage, and mini muffins.
“Am I supposed to apologize for being better at the job than you?” I take a bite of salty bacon and wash it down with a gulp of lukewarm coffee. At noon, we’re only just eating breakfast, having rolled into the Philly venue at ten.
Prophet, Creeper, Medicine Man, Dixie, even Paul all come to the table with food, all of them looking like they need twelve more hours of sleep. Pau
l sits down next to me.
“Don’t forget the tube blew on the guitar amp last night.”
Bookie forks eggs into his mouth. “We replaced it.”
“I’ll check the others.”
Prophet grunts.
“We need to do a final once-over on the mics before sound check.”
“The frequency gets jammed up here.”
The “shop talk” continues around the table—some with valuable information to convey, others just thinking out loud. I remember as a kid, I listened and tried to imagine what all the words that sounded like a different language in my young ears meant.
“Ask a cable rat to do—”
The double doors of the room fly open with such force, they slam against the brick walls like gunfire. All eyes dart to the man seething in the doorway.
Ethan.
He looks bigger than usual, his chest puffed out, shoulders moving with every breath. He spots me immediately as if I called his name. I shrink a little as he stomps over to me, nostrils flared. I cover my mouth to keep him from seeing me smile.
“You.” His usual humor-filled, tan-colored eyes are now tight slits of fire. “Really?”
The table gets suspiciously quiet, save for the few muffled laughs and mumbled oh shits.
“Good morning, Ethan.” My lips twitch with barely controlled laughter. “How did you sleep?” A snort rips from my nose.
He smirks, but the look is hardly playful. “You think this is funny.”
I shrug.
Ethan looks at my dad, then glares at Paul—specifically, where Paul’s elbow on the table is close to mine. “Payback’s a bitch.”
I chew my lip. “Hmmm… I think you mean payback’s a dick.”
Creeper loses it first, his laughter coming fast and wheezing. One by one, the table dissolves into a fit of un-manly giggles. I do my very best to stay composed, but eventually I lose it too and join in laughing with the rest of them.
Ethan runs a hand through his hair as if trying to control his temper. I stare at the giant black dick and balls I Sharpied on his cheek hours ago, admiring my work. What is he so mad about? It’ll come off with a good scrub. Maybe a few good scrubs.
He looks at me, opens his mouth to say something, but decides instead to walk away. When he gets to the double doors, he yells, “You’re all fired,” over his shoulder.
We burst into laughter. No way we’re fired. Jesse would never let that happen.
“Don’t worry, no one is fired,” I assure the crew. “He just needs some time to cool off.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” Paul says next to me, still snickering. “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.”
I glare at the door where Ethan disappeared and mentally challenge him to bring it on. The pranking, the verbal sparring, this is where I’m comfortable with Ethan. No flirting, kissing, or orgasms to confuse his intentions. No butterflies and warm feelings and awkward interactions. We’re back to the comfort zone.
Chapter Fourteen
Taylor
Two weeks and no retribution.
For fourteen days, I’ve walked cautiously around corners, sniffed everything before I ate it, and feared the moment something would fall from the sky. With every day that passes without retaliation, I grow more and more paranoid.
Two weeks, and I’m beginning to think he’s forgotten to seek revenge and forgotten about me completely. I would’ve thought a giant dick and balls Sharpied on his face was less forgettable than me, yet he acts as if I no longer exist. On the rare occasion we find each other in the same vicinity, he gives me his back, sits at the farthest side of the room. On our nights off, he hasn’t shown up at my door or made surprise visits to the restaurant I’ve been at.
I chalk it up to the fact that the wives and kids have left the tour and Ethan is once again keeping himself entertained with his bandmates. He no longer requires me for entertainment purposes.
Is he also dipping into the groupie pool to meet his carnal needs?
Probably. I refuse to pay attention.
I have no right to be jealous. I have no claim on him.
He seemed genuine the night he showed up on my bus, but I was too raw, too hurt by the fact that after all these years, Tori hasn’t changed. No matter how many times I give her the opportunity to actually act like a mom, she constantly disappoints.
And I’m sickened that she’s the type of woman Ethan would be sexually attracted to. The way he never pushed her away made me feel like a placeholder while he waits for a woman like Tori to come along.
Halfway through tonight’s show in Atlanta, Ethan acts as happy and energetic as always. He doesn’t seem to feel the aching loss I do, as if the few kisses we shared, the back and forth pranks never existed. Did I break whatever friendship we had?
“We’re going out tomorrow night,” Paul yells to be heard over the music. “You should come.”
“You know I can’t get into clubs or bars.”
“Dive bar. Copper’s uncle owns it. You won’t be able to drink, but you can go.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.”
I suppose it’s time I stop waiting for Ethan’s next prank. I should also stop waiting for him to crash in on my alone time at the hotel. I need to face reality and accept that whatever Ethan and I had is over. I suppose the best and quickest way to get over him is to go out and get back to life without Ethan. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Sweet.”
The show eventually ends and, like always, Ethan walks right past me as if I’m nothing but an empty crate. I pushed him away and got what I wanted, so I have no room to complain.
This is what I wanted… right?
Ethan
Taylor Marsten has infected me.
It’s the only explanation for why I’m able to feel her presence without even seeing her. On a cellular level, my blood hums when she’s within a ten-foot radius. Even now, she thinks she’s hiding in the shadows side-stage while I perform, but I can feel her eyes on me like a physical touch. I don’t hate that I feel her around me. Knowing where she is makes her easier to ignore.
The crowd cheers after our final encore song, and I hand my bass to Creeper. I accept a towel from one of the crewmembers then head straight back to the dressing room for a shower. Ty, one of our security team, escorts me back.
“Did you talk to her?” I wipe sweat from my face and the back of my neck.
“Yeah,” he says, walking alongside me. “I had a guy pull her aside after the show.”
“Perfect.” I push into the dressing room and go straight to the shower. “I’ll meet you out back in ten.”
I have to do something to try to get the old Ethan back. Because living with a sore spot in my chest makes me feel like a pathetic chump. I’ve had just about enough of that shit. I’d laugh if I weren’t so pathetic.
Taylor pulled off the ultimate prank and it had nothing to do with the dick she drew on my face.
She actually got me to care. To think beyond the lust-filled kisses and physical gratification. She got me to hurt for her. Tricked me into thinking I could comfort her, make her feel better in ways that had nothing to do with orgasms.
Something I know good and fucking well not to do.
A quick shower, change, and I step into the dressing room to find Jesse, Ben, and Ryder sitting around with frowns on their faces.
I ask, “Who died?”
Jesse stands. “You tell me.”
I shrug, feigning ignorance.
“What the hell happened to you?” He cocks his head. “One minute you’re covered in glitter and popping a boner in your boxers—”
“Is nothing sacred?” I glare at Ben, who frowns and shakes his head.
“Now you lock yourself up in the bus or hotel room when you’re not playing shows.” Jesse jerks his chin toward Ryder. “You’re not even having beers and fighting over movies with Ryder anymore. The wives are gone, so you can’t use them as an excuse, so what th
e fuck is up with you?”
I scratch my jaw and avoid their eyes. “You know how it is on the road. Sometimes it’s just nice to take a break from the people you have to see every damn day.”
Ryder crosses his arms. “You sure this has nothing to do with a certain roadie?”
I school my expression.
Ben clears his throat. “I noticed the pranks between you two stopped after the whole…” He motions to my cheek. “Penis thing.”
I type out a text to Ty, letting him know I’m on my way. “I gotta go. I have a date waiting.”
Thankfully, none of them try to stop me as I walk out the door. The hallways and corridors are alive with activity as the crew strikes the stage and loads equipment. Many of them pass by, but I keep my eyes forward, refusing to see any of them. Ignoring her for two weeks took discipline and hard work. One look and I’d fuck all that up.
Rodger sees me coming and pops open the back door of an idling, blacked out SUV. A crowd of fans is lined up on the opposite side of concrete blockades more than fifty yards away, and they scream when they see me. I throw up my hand and give a quick wave before jogging to the SUV.
“Ethan!” Ty calls my name.
I turn around to find him walking with the brunette I spotted in the front row tonight. She smiles bashfully, her gaze settling somewhere on my shoulder rather than my eyes. Her long brown hair is straight and falls to her elbows, and her feminine curves are displayed beautifully in her skinny jeans and sheer white top.
“This is Amy.”
I put on my best “old Ethan” smile and give her a hug. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, knotting her hands in front of her. “Great show tonight. I’m a big fan.”
Yeah, I figured. “Thank you. You’re up for hanging out tonight?”
Her big brown eyes finally touch on mine. “Are you kidding? Yes!”
“Great! Let’s get out of here.” I take her hand, noticing her grip isn’t as strong as Taylor’s. Amy doesn’t hold on, so it’s more like holding a dead fish. Why the fuck am I even thinking about this shit? I lead her to the SUV and slide in after her. Ty closes the door behind me. “I hope it’s all right if we go to my hotel room. There aren’t a lot of places I can go publicly.”
