“It’s okay, Tom,” Crew says to our head of security. “We have a few minutes.” He turns to the girl. “Yes on all counts, except the playing. We’re here to see Reece Mancini.”
“Who’s that?” the girl asks. “Never mind.” She fishes in her purse, pulls out a piece of paper, and shoves it at him. “Can you sign this? All of you?”
The girl, her friends, and some others wait for photo ops, mostly with Crew. I step over to Liam. “What are we, chopped liver?”
Iggy walks over with two women flanking him. “Garrett, will you tell these ladies I’m part of Reckless Alibi?”
“Dude, I’ve never seen you before in my life. Tom, you want to remove this lowlife from the vicinity?”
“What the fuck?” Iggy says.
“He’s not the first guy to try and pick up girls like this,” I tell the women. “You want a real rocker? Come find me after the show.”
One of the girls punches him in the arm. “Jerk.” She drags her friend away, now shooting me fuck-me eyes over her shoulder.
Iggy stares me down. “Why the hell are you cock-blocking me?”
Liam and I bend over laughing. “You made it way too easy, man. If you have to tell a girl you’re in a band to get pussy, you’re trying too hard.”
He pouts and slams back a shot of whiskey.
“You’re the drummer,” someone says behind me.
I turn to a tall voluptuous redhead and hold out my hand. “Garrett Young.”
She offers up a sultry grin. “I’ve always had a thing for drummers.”
“You’re in luck then, because I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”
Liam raises a brow at me. He knows I’m full of shit.
She touches my arm. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sorry,” Liam says. “This table is for the band only.”
The redhead eyes Liam’s girlfriend. “Who’s she?”
Liam puts an arm around Ella. “My girlfriend.”
Red runs a finger down the middle of my chest. “I could be one of those. I’m really good at girlfriend things.”
The bar manager gets onstage and starts talking. I turn to Red. “It’s time for the show. Maybe I’ll find you after.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispers and gives me an impressive view of her backside when she walks away.
I notice a familiar face at a corner table. It’s Reece’s friend, roommate, fuck buddy, or whatever the hell he is. He never came to rehearsal after the one time. Since then, Reece has been practicing with the IRL house band a few days a week. She insisted we not hear any of her music until tonight. A pretty bold move, considering we own IRL, the house band, and the studio they’ve been rehearsing in.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Bria says, bouncing in her chair. “I hope they’re good.”
The band starts playing and then Reece makes an entrance, picks up her guitar, and stands in front. I know she can see us—the stage lights aren’t bright—but she pretends we’re not here. She makes a lot of eye contact with Maddox, however.
She’s wearing white leather pants and a bright-pink crop top that matches her mile high fuck-me shoes. “She looks like a slut,” I say to Liam.
“She looks like a rock star.”
Not even two minutes into the song, I know everyone’s going to be onboard with them as our opening act, but I wait for her to screw up. I listen for cracks in her voice, missteps on the guitar, and watch for fear in her eyes. She gives me none of it.
The song ends, and people cheer. I survey the audience and see most people watching the band. Why it makes me mad, I’m not sure. It’s not like I want her to fail.
Okay, so maybe I do.
She puts down the guitar for the second song and only does vocals. I glance at Maddox. He’s staring at me. He lifts his chin as if to say, I told you so, fucker. Damn, I hate that guy.
“She’s killing it,” Iggy says.
“Whatever.” I swipe his drink and chug it down.
“You didn’t want her to do badly, did you?” When I don’t answer, he laughs. “Oh, shit. You wanted her to suck. Man, that makes you a super douche. What’s the deal with you two, anyway?”
“Mind your own goddamn business.”
Jeremy arrives late and pulls a chair up next to mine. “What’d I miss?”
“Listen to her,” Bria shouts across the table. “She’s fantastic!”
Jeremy is impressed with her performance. My bandmates are mesmerized, their eyes glued to Reece as she sings songs about heartbreak and turmoil. Everyone in the bar loves her.
“This girl wears her heart on her sleeve, doesn’t she?” Crew says, leaning across the table. “You think these songs are about you or her ex?”
I ignore him, flag down the waitress, and order more drinks.
“Good thing you aren’t driving,” Iggy says.
“What are you, my mother?”
He holds up his hands. “Jeez, she’s really got some kind of hold on you, doesn’t she? You’ve been acting like an asshole the last three weeks.”
“You’ve known me for ten seconds longer than that,” I say. “How do you know I’m not always an asshole?”
He elbows Liam. “Is G always an asshole?”
I want to tell him to use my full name. Only my friends call me G. He hasn’t earned that status yet.
“Yes, he is,” Liam says with a snarky grin.
“Fuck you.” I grab a smoke from Iggy’s pack on the table. Crew shoots me an annoyed glance. “What?”
He laughs and turns away, whispering something to Bria. She glances at me, then at Reece. I wish everyone would quit thinking whatever it is they’re thinking.
When the waitress brings more drinks, I tell her to keep them coming. By the time Reece’s set is over, I’m sufficiently numb.
She walks offstage and joins us a few minutes later. My bandmates praise the shit out of her. How is this justice? In what world does she deserve any of this?
“G?”
Everyone is staring at me. “What?”
“Wasn’t she great?” Liam asks.
“Sure. Yeah. Whatever.” I toss back another shot.
“Thanks,” Reece says to everyone but me. “I was so nervous. Could you tell?”
“Not at all,” Bria says.
I laugh. “There’s only a hundred people here. Maybe a buck fifty. This is nothing compared to what the tour will be like. If you’re nervous now …” I mock toast her and throw back another.
“Are you trying to psyche me out?” she asks.
Iggy pushes his way past a few people to get to her. “Buy you a drink?”
“Her boyfriend’s here,” I say.
“I’m not her boyfriend.”
I turn. When did Maddox join us?
He strides over and kisses her cheek. “You nailed it, Mancini.”
My stomach flips. He called her Mancini.
“How about that drink?” Iggy says.
She looks at me, and I swear she’s smirking. “I could use a beer.”
“Waitress!” Iggy shouts and gives her an order. He sees the fire in my eyes. “What? Is that not cool? I mean, you pretty much hate each other, right? In my book, that makes her fair game.”
I push back from the table. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”
Red’s approaching. Before she can say anything, I pull her in and kiss her hard. I’m sloppy drunk, but at this point, I don’t care.
We pull apart. She smiles at me. “Now this is something I can get onboard with.”
“Want to get out of here?”
“Hell, yes. But don’t you want to know my name first?”
“Does it matter?”
Reece’s jaw drops, and she peers at me in disgust.
With a flick of my wrist, I say goodbye to everyone at the table. “Later. Don’t wait up. Oh, I forgot, I have a place of my own now. Means none of you losers will hear Red screaming my name.”
She giggles as we walk away. I t
urn just enough to see Reece.
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
Chapter Twelve
Reece
I enter the conference room, seeing Garrett for the first time in a week. He’s avoided me at IRL since the gig at the bar. When I was here practicing with the house band, he ducked into the bathroom whenever I walked down the hallway. And when the rest of Reckless Alibi came out to talk to me on Wednesday afternoon, he was conspicuously absent.
But he can’t hide forever. Before our ‘Swerve’ rehearsal today, there is a meeting to go over details about the tour. The tour. I still can’t believe it. Even with all the tension, the unsolicited glares of hatred, the negative display of energy surrounding him, I’m still excited about it.
“Saved you a seat,” Iggy says, patting the chair next to him.
Garrett huffs and shakes his head. I don’t know what his problem is. He ignored my calls and letters for years and now he gets pissed when I talk to other guys? I have half a mind to ask him if the redhead will be attending our meeting.
I sit down, eyeing the packet of papers before me. “You’ll get used to Ronni and all her business plans,” Jeremy says.
“She doesn’t have to get used to anything, does she?” Garrett snarls. “This is a one-time deal.”
“I’m well aware what this is.”
Ronni appears in the doorway. “Good. Everyone’s here.” She eyes me distastefully. “Even those who aren’t part of the band.”
“Holy shit,” Liam says, studying a full-color glossy of a tour bus. “Is this ours?”
“It is for the duration of the tour,” Ronni says. “It’s amazing what you can lease nowadays.”
“Wow,” Bria says. “It looks like it can seat twenty.”
“We needed something to accommodate eight of you, plus Tom and Bruce—but they’ll be up front. The rest of you should have plenty of space to move around.”
“Why does it have a bedroom in back?” Jeremy asks. “We’ll only be riding in it during the day.”
“It’s hard to find one without it. Plus, with your schedule, I’m sure some of you will find it convenient to get some sleep between cities.”
“Or something,” Iggy says, wiggling his brows in my direction.
“Are we in fucking middle school?” Garrett spews.
“Anyway,” Ronni says in a whiny, irritated voice. “You might enjoy having some separation. The bus is equipped with a full kitchen, satellite television, a state-of-the-art bathroom, and all the other conveniences of a high-end hotel room, albeit it’s quite a bit smaller.”
I raise my hand.
Ronni rolls her eyes. “I guess we are in middle school. What is it?”
“You said there will be eight people on the bus. Are you traveling with us?”
“No. I’ll fly in for a few shows, but I won’t be on the tour.” When my lips curve upward, she jumps on me. “Try not to look so damn happy about it.”
“I … no …” I shut up.
“Ella’s coming,” Liam says.
“Your girlfriend?”
“She’s the reason we’re going on this tour.”
I’m confused. “I didn’t realize she was part of this.”
“She’s not.” Ronni rolls her eyes. “She’s his inspiration or something. Blah blah blah. So yes, she’ll be with you the entire ten weeks. Girl power or whatever.”
“Dudes,” Iggy says. “Check out this list of hotels. The Sheraton, the Omni, and the goddamn Ritz.”
Bria closes the packet harshly. “Do we really have to spend this much money? The hotels we stayed in during our Florida tour were plenty nice.”
“We do,” Ronni says. “How many times must I tell you that to be viewed as a mega-successful band, you have to act like one?”
“I suppose we’ll be driven in limos to each concert?” Crew asks.
“Absolutely.”
My heart beats wildly. Tour bus, high-end hotels, limousines. I’ve died and gone to heaven—I glance at Garrett, who’s still brooding over my being here—or maybe hell. A really extravagant hell.
“Some of these dates are back-to-back,” Liam says. “I thought we were going to get a break between concerts.”
“For the most part, you will, but we had a few scheduling conflicts, and this was the only way to make it happen in the major cities I wanted to hit.”
I peruse the list: Pittsburgh, Chicago, Minneapolis, Las Vegas, San Francisco, San Diego, and more.
“Scared yet?” Garrett grumbles. “You can back out anytime. You’re easily replaceable. Oh, wait, that’s your line.”
My spine stiffens. I’m not sure what I feel. Anger. Hatred. Guilt. “I’m not scared.”
“You aren’t fooling anyone. It’s easy enough to play some back-alley bar, but if you screw up onstage with us—it’s our reputation you’ll be fucking with.”
“She’s not going to screw up,” Bria says. “Reece was born to perform, like all of us.”
Garrett’s laugh is spiteful. “Yeah, except some of us had to work our asses off for it.”
“Children,” Ronni says, frustrated. “Must we rehash this again? What’s done is done. Not all of us like it, but we have to live with it, so let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
Iggy holds up a page and smiles. “We get to make a list of riders?”
“You’re rock stars now,” Jeremy says. “Of course you do.”
“Riders?” I ask.
Garrett rubs his jaw. “Oh, for chrissake.”
I sneer. “I’m sorry I’ve never been in a famous band before.”
“You’re still not,” he snaps.
“Riders are a list of requests you have for the tour bus or hotel rooms,” Crew explains. “You know, if you want a certain kind of soda or beer made available to you.”
“Or shampoo,” Bria adds.
“Hotel staff usually bend over backward to please people like you,” Jeremy says. “But they’re used to dealing with arrogant rock stars. Why don’t we show them how the other half is—the polite, kind, generous musicians I know you all are.”
“Speak for yourself,” Garrett says, earning him a scolding look from his manager.
“Don’t mind him,” Liam says. “He’s been on the rag for weeks.”
Garrett throws a drumstick at him, barely missing his head. It chips the wall behind him.
“People!” Ronni yells. “Must I remind you that you all need to be healthy and” —she glares at Garrett—“alive, in order to make this a success?”
“How soon can we start practicing on the tour set?” Crew asks.
“It should be ready next Tuesday. You’ll have a little more than a week to rehearse there.” Ronni turns to me. “Clear your schedule. We’ll need you every day.”
"To do what?” I ask.
“We’ve rented a giant warehouse outside the city,” Liam explains. “Our crew has been practicing putting up and tearing down the set for weeks. They need to be able to do it in eight hours. Now we get to rehearse on it. Work out any kinks.”
“Sounds exciting. I’ll be there.”
“Great,” Garrett says. “I’ll alert the fucking press.” He turns to Ronni. “Are we done now?”
“One more thing,” she says. “Reece, we’ve arranged for you to open for RA at shows three, four, and six. We’ll fly the house band to you in Madison. The crew will have their equipment. We wanted to put you early in the lineup so you wouldn’t sound out of practice.”
Suddenly I’m terrified. Show three is in less than three weeks. I’ll be performing in front of thousands of people in eighteen days. Me—Reece Mancini. Not just for one song as a guest singer for Reckless Alibi. I feel sick, but I swallow my emotions, determined not to let Garrett have a field day with my reaction.
“You can go now,” Ronni says. “Be sure to read the entire packet and have your list of riders to me by Friday. The bus will pick you up here Thursday after next at nine o’clock. If you’re late, you’ll
be paying your own way to Cleveland.”
She leaves. I stare at the blank rider form, then turn to Bria. “I don’t know what to ask for. This all seems so surreal.”
Crew laughs. “Tell her what Adam Stuart asked for, babe.”
“Wait,” I say, surprised. “Adam Stuart, as in White Poison?”
“One and the same,” Bria says. “I haven’t thought about that in forever. He had to have fresh towels every time he washed his hands. Bed sheets, too, and don’t even get me started on his hygiene products.”
I’m stunned. “You know about Adam Stuart’s riders? Did you date him?”
“I try not to think about it, but yes, I did, for a few months when I was their backup singer.”
“Holy crap, you sang with White Poison?”
Jeremy laughs. “Reece, people will be saying the same about you one day—only for Reckless Alibi.”
My hand goes to my mouth. “Oh, gosh, you’re right.”
“No they won’t,” Bria says. “After the world gets to hear Reece Mancini, they’ll forget all about when she sang that one little old song with us.”
Garrett goes to the door. “If you’re finished reminiscing, mind if we get to rehearsal?”
Bria pulls me aside on the way out. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad that some of us are becoming friends with you.”
“Some of you?” I look at her with a gleam of hope.
She nods and takes my elbow. “Yeah.”
Chapter Thirteen
Garrett
Six years ago …
She grips my hand like a vise as we approach the front door. “They’re just people,” I say. “It’s not like you’re meeting the king and queen.”
“I’d say it’s exactly like that. What if your parents hate me? Oh God, they’re going to hate me.” She glances at the dress I helped pick for the occasion. “This was a mistake.”
I pull her along when she tries to hold us back. “If you remember to ignore my dad, this will all seem perfectly normal.”
She gazes at the expansive property. “Nothing about this is normal.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “You look beautiful.”
Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 8
