The Roadie: Radical Rock Stars Book 7

by Jenna Galicki

  “We can go back. I can see you’re not comfortable out here.” He shrugged. “We tried.”

  Thank God. She paddled all of two feet toward the beach before she stopped. Failure wasn’t in her genes. She wasn’t a quitter. She was an Abelman. She was on the Board of Directors of Falcon Records and stood up to business executives three times her age. She took on the male-dominated music industry and made a name for herself as one of the youngest executives in the country. Surely, she could take on a little wave.

  “What’s wrong?” Brett asked.

  “I didn’t try. I got scared. I can’t give up. That’s something my father instilled in me since I was a kid. Look, there’s another wave!” She pointed behind Brett to the swell coming toward them.

  “Wait,” he warned. “It’s coming too fast. We’ll catch the next one.”

  She was about to argue but trusted his judgment and let the swell glide by.

  The next wave came, and he nodded. “When I say ‘go’, paddle like crazy.”

  Her heart hammered in her throat as she waited, poised on the board, eyes darting from the wave to Brett and back again.

  “Get ready. Now! Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!”

  She paddled toward the shore as fast as her arms could move, then she popped up just the way she’d done on the sand. She did it! She was standing on the board! Oh . . . no! She wobbled and fell sideways off the board into the ocean. The roar of the wave thundered above as saltwater filled her ears and covered her head. She tumbled while the rough tide tossed her back and forth under the water like a washing machine. Her foot dusted the sandy floor. The leash tugged on her ankle as if someone were pulling her deeper below the surface. Through the sound of rushing water, she heard her heart beating like a bass drum is if it were outside of her chest. Everything probably happened in under three seconds, but it felt as if she’d been holding her breath for an hour while she was thrashing around in a million different directions. Panicked, and sure she was about to drown, she flailed her arms and legs wildly and propelled herself upwards until air filled her lungs with a deep inhale.

  “You OK?” Brett was off his surfboard and in the water in front of her, alarm and concern in his voice as he studied her face.

  Before she could answer, he scooped her up and cradled her in his arms.

  “I gotcha. Relax and take a few deep breaths.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, safe and protected, while her nerves settled.

  “You went down hard. Did you get hurt?”

  “No.” Now that she knew she was OK, and her heart wasn’t hammering as hard, she felt a little silly for thinking she was going to drown. “Just a little embarrassed.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You gave it a good first try.”

  It sounded as if he thought she was done. “I’ll get it.” Although she hated leaving his embrace, she swam to her surfboard and straddled it.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, smiling. “Never give in or give up.”

  Three more waves came in and three more times she fell off the board, but the fear was no longer there. She fell, dove under the water, and rose to the top ready to try it all over again. “This is one hell of a workout.” She wiped the water from her eyes and pushed her wet hair from her face. Her biceps and shoulders were stretched tightly as the muscles contracted from exertion.

  Brett held up one arm, curled his fist and flexed his bicep. “Pretty soon you’ll look like me.”

  “Yeah. Because you got those muscles from surfing.”

  They saw the next wave coming and immediately got into position. Her arms and legs burned with fatigue, but she paddled her heart out and popped up on the board. She felt her weight shift and thought she was going to go down again but regained her balance. The board sailed over the water, carrying her like a bird flying through the air. It was exhilarating! Surreal. She was surfing! As the shore grew closer, she heard Brett yell, “Woot!”

  She turned to look at him and almost lost her balance but recovered. They shared a smile that inflated her chest. A few seconds later, the wave crashed and sent her into the water, but it was only up to her waist, and she walked the rest of the way to the beach.

  “You did it!” Brett exclaimed, kicking up the water as he walked toward her at an angle.

  “Did you see me? I was awesome!”

  “You’re a warrior, Kira. You said you were going to surf, and you did.”

  “Thank you for teaching me. I was just humoring you when I came out here today. I never really wanted to surf. Now, I think it’s amazing. I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.” She turned her face up to the sun. “Or when I’ve spent this much time outdoors. Or at the beach. It’s beautiful out here.”

  His smile stretched across his face. “You can do this practically every day in California. We got nothing but sun and sand.”

  There was only one problem with that scenario. She was a New York girl.

  After four weeks on tour with Immortal Angel, it all came to an end. Last night’s show in Indianapolis saw the close of Brett’s first stint as a roadie with the band and his time with Kira. He couldn’t believe how quickly the time slipped by. He had gotten used to the routine. Not just the nightly shows and constant on-the-go tour, but the everyday familiar goings on. It became clear right away that everyone on the bus was one big extended family. He would miss them, but, most of all, he’d miss Kira and didn’t know if this meant the end of their relationship or the beginning of it.

  They needed to talk about it, but today wasn’t the day. They were on the bus heading back to New York, and Angel made a grand meal for everyone in the bus’ kitchen. Brett had expected something quick or easy, but Angel made a full three-course meal that looked like a banquet.

  The dining booths, which had never been occupied by everyone at the same time before, were surprisingly spacious. There were the usual bumping of elbows and accidental stepping on toes under the table, but there was as much room as they would have had at a diner.

  Most of the food remained on the stove and counter, with the exception of a huge platter of pork which sat in the middle of each of the three dining booths. Everyone filled their plates in assembly-line fashion and returned to their seats, obviously well accustomed to the procession.

  “Are you familiar with Cuban cuisine?” Angel asked Brett from the booth across from where he sat with Kira, Audra and Jimmy. “These are some of our favorites.”

  “Not really,” Brett admitted. “It all looks exquisite and smells just as good.” He looked into his plate, which emanated with amazing aromas. He took a helping of everything, even the items that he was unsure of. Everything smelled so delicious that he didn’t want to pass up any of it.

  As a single guy, his culinary skills were severely lacking, but he usually cooked dinner or fired up the grill. He’d never experienced anything of this caliber, though, even at the restaurants the guys from Bulletproof owned all over Los Angeles. He pointed to something on his plate that looked like a croquette but could also be a pastry dough. “What’s this?” he quietly asked Kira.

  “Papas rellenas.” She cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, “Potato balls.” She started giggling, and Audra joined her.

  Angel overheard, even though he was sitting at the booth across from them. “Are you girls laughing at my balls again?” he teased. Then he began to proudly list the dishes that he prepared with enthusiasm as if he were a waiter in a five-star restaurant, describing them in detail. He made them sound even more appealing than they looked and smelled.

  Jessi leaned her head on Angel shoulder with affection. “My husband is an astounding chef, and he loves to cook for his family. I’m so blessed.”

  “I cook, too,” a little girl’s voice offered. It was Tessa, who sat in a booster seat next to her mother. She was such an adorable little girl with dark black bangs, big brown eyes and a huge personality. Jessi kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Yes,
you do. You’re a big help to Papi in the kitchen. You even help me draw.”

  Tessa nodded. “Clothes for people to wear.”

  Angel’s chest puffed out. “Our daughter is going to be a world-class chef and a famous clothing designer.”

  The corner of Tommy’s mouth drew back into a quizzical smile. “How about, our daughter the rock star? She’s a born entertainer. You see the way she sings those Disney songs, complete with dance routines. She can do anything. Did you help Papi with dessert tonight, princess?”

  The little girl nodded. “Red felfit cake. Cause it’s Mason’s favorite.”

  Mason, who was sitting in the booth with the Blade-Garcia family instead of with his parents, in order to be next to the other kids, gave Tessa a million-dollar smile. “I love red velvet cake, Tess. Thanks. I can’t wait.”

  Tessa’s cheeks flamed beet red, and she giggled under her hand.

  General chatter continued between the booths for the rest of the meal, and then they all moved to the living area to have dessert. Mason’s Aunt Mary sat on the couch opposite from Brett. She was an older woman, most likely a great aunt, and not someone you’d expect to see on the road. Brett wondered about her travels with Immortal Angel. He was about to ask her how she liked touring with a punk rock band, when she beat him to it.

  “Brett, how do you like touring with Immortal Angel? Is it much different from the band you usually tour with?”

  “Yeah. Actually, it’s very different. I’ve never traveled with the band on their bus before. I always ride with the road crew. We don’t get fancy hotel rooms. Everyone sleeps on the bus.” His eyes darted toward the kitchen, the circular staircase that led to the second floor, and the enormous giant screen TV. “It’s nothing like this.” The road crew’s tour bus has the bare minimum. Even by rock star standards, Immortal Angel’s ride was overly luxurious and stocked with more amenities than he could list. A part of him felt a little guilty for abandoning the rest of the roadies and sharing these luxuries with Kira. But he knew that this job was really only given to him so he and Kira could spend time together.

  He found her hand and brought it to his lips. “I really do appreciate this opportunity. This has been an awesome tour. Not just because of the way we’re traveling, but because I’m spending so much time with you and these people who mean so much to you. I know rock stars like their privacy. They’re your family. I’m a stranger. But I don’t feel like one.”

  Everyone was smiling and nodding, but Kira’s gaze held his attention. Her eyes twinkled as she wore a warm smile. “The idea was for us to spend time together and have fun. And we did,” she said.

  Jimmy leaned forward and clapped Brett on the knee. “We’re happy to have you here, man.”

  Lucas, the little blond-haired boy, agreed. “You made us breakfast one morning on the bus when we were hungry.”

  “How do you kids like riding on the tour bus?” Brett asked them, curious as to how they adjusted to moving from city to city almost on a daily basis.

  “Fun,” Lucas immediately answered. “I get to see Mason every day and we play music together. Sometimes Tessa sings with us. She’s still learning all the words, but she does real good. And sometimes I get to see Daddy and Papi play guitar and sing on stage. That’s my favorite part. Once, I played on stage with them for Daddy’s birthday surprise. It was awesome! That’s what I want to do when I grow up. Play guitar on stage like Daddy.”

  All three of Lucas’ parents looked at him as if the kid just discovered the cure for cancer, but Tommy Blade looked like he was about to combust. “That’s my boy!” He raised his hand for a high five and Lucas pressed his tiny palm into his father’s large hand. “You’re gonna be a superstar, Lucas. Mason, too. And Tessa, as well, in whatever she chooses.”

  Brett felt at home amongst this large group of people. At first, he was hesitant and unsure how it would go, as things didn’t start off so well with the men on board. But, now, there was easy acceptance into this group. He’d also learned a few things about Kira, which was exactly the point of being here. She hated Brussels sprouts and spinach. Even though she generally preferred to eat healthy, she also loved burgers and fast food. She seemed to have a sweet spot for Angel, who acted like the patriarch of the group. She really was inseparable with her sister, and the two were alike as two people could be. Even now, sitting next to one another on the couch, they both had their legs crossed the same way and picked delicately at the red velvet cake.

  “What happened to the coffee, A?” Tommy asked his husband.

  Angel looked mortified. “I totally forgot about it. I’m so sorry, everyone.” He darted into the kitchen area and started rummaging around in the cabinets.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tommy called into the kitchen. “We don’t need coffee.”

  “Yes! We do!” Kira and Audra both said at the same time, then started laughing.

  “I’ll make it.” Tommy started to rise from the captain’s chair, but Angel’s commanding voice stopped him.

  “Tommy Blade, sit back down this instant! I’m making a special treat for everyone.”

  “What do you think he’s making?” Jessi asked Tommy.

  While the two discussed it, Kira leaned closer to Brett and whispered, “I know what he’s making.”

  “What?”

  “This Cuban coffee thing. Wait until you taste it. I swear, you’ll never want to drink anything else.”

  “You’re a coffee fiend, aren’t you? I saw the way you downed those cups of Starbucks in Chicago and how you reach for the pot the minute you wake up,” Brett teased.

  She sighed. “Now you know my secret. I’m a caffeine junkie.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “Fortunately, yes.”

  “Here we are!” Angel set a tray of small espresso cups on the table. “Cafecito with espuma!”

  Brett picked up a cup and looked at the foamy top. “Cappuccino,” he proclaimed.

  Angel gasped. “Es café Cubano. No Italiano.”

  Brett’s eyes shifted to Kira. “What did he just say?”

  “I . . . think he said it’s Cuban coffee, not Italian.”

  “Very good, Kira.” Angel put his fist on his hip. “Why has no one here learned Spanish? How long have I known all of you? And not even my wife or my husband has learned the language.”

  “Yo se Española.”

  It was little Tessa’s voice, and everyone cooed at the precious little girl. Angel inhaled a deep breath and smiled all the way to his eyes. He cupped Tessa’s face in his hands and kissed the top of her head. “Of course, you do, mi princesita. You’re so incredibly smart. And Lucas, my boy, you’re a genius, as well.” He also cupped Lucas’ cheeks and kissed him on the head. Then they had a short two sentence conversation in Spanish.

  Brett returned his gaze to Kira. She was enjoying the coffee and chatting with Audra. She turned to him, feeling his eyes on her.

  “How do you like the cof—cafecito?” She smiled, sending a teasing glance in Angel’s direction.

  Brett hadn’t tasted it yet, because he was too absorbed in watching the interactions around him, so he finally took a sip. He grunted from the pleasing taste the moment the coffee hit his tongue, even before he swallowed. It was strong, but incredibly sweet. He considered himself to be a coffee snob, purchasing only the freshest beans and grinding them himself, so he was unexpectedly impressed. “This is delicious. What’s in it?”

  “The beans are from Cuba,” Angel replied. “And I don’t mean imported. My uncle brings them to us when he visits, along with amazing treats. But it’s the espuma that makes the cup.” Angel waved his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “Just a little whipped sugar. Very tasty, though. I don’t make it that often, but tonight’s special. It’s our last night together.”

  Brett’s heart sank, and the peaceful feeling that had enveloped him during dinner got kicked to the wayside by disappointment. He dropped his eyes before he looked at Kira, who wore a frown and ga
zed at him with sad doe eyes. He took her hand and kissed it, not knowing what to say. She was also quiet. Probably because there was nothing to say.

  They had no plans to bridge the geography that separated them. They started the tour with the knowledge that it was a temporary situation, but did Kira really still feel that way? He’d grown so close to her over these last few weeks. He couldn’t believe he was going from seeing her 24 hours a day to a three-thousand-mile divide. It felt as if they just set out from New York. He wished the tour could have lasted longer, but this was it. The end of the road.

  As the massive tour bus rolled up the long driveway that led to the Blade-Garcia mansion, a collective cheer resounded throughout the vehicle. Everyone was happy to be home. Everyone except Brett. He didn’t want to get off the bus and took Kira’s hand. “Let’s wait. Let the others go first.”

  Her smile turned bittersweet, and she nodded.

  They sat quietly, holding hands, while the bus cleared of boisterous kids and families happy to be home. Neither Brett nor Kira made any move to get up from their seats when the bus was empty, because they knew it meant they’d soon be going their separate ways. They listened to the driver unloading the cargo until the door to the storage compartment slammed shut with a metallic clang.

  Kira sighed and squeezed Brett’s hand. “I guess we need to go.”

  Reluctantly, Brett stood up, but Kira still didn’t move. Instead, she frowned and let out a small whimper. He tugged her to her feet, and she landed against his chest.

  “I wish the tour wasn’t over.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his.

  “Me too,” he said, stealing a kiss before turning and heading toward the doors.

  When they stepped onto the asphalt driveway, she looped her arm through his and led him toward the mansion. It was an architectural masterpiece, with private access to the sandy beach and Atlantic Ocean. They passed through the massive double doors and down a long marble hallway toward the back of the house. Brett tried not to gawk at the ambience around him, but he couldn’t help it. Hard angles and gleaming marble demanded attention with their pristine beauty. Everything was ultramodern, chic and expensive.