“Hey, what is that?” Jera asks, taking a step forward.
Jacob doesn’t look up from where he’s rummaging in his bag. “Well, back in junior high, we called it dry-humping, but I’m sure the internet’s come up with something better by now.”
“Not them. That.” She takes another step forward, pointing at the bunk below mine.
I poke my head out and look down, belatedly remembering her surprise present. The padded railing fits perfectly along the bunk, and it seems like Danny and Jacob found a way to wedge it in along the mattress without using screws after all. That bodes well for the security deposit Kate was worried about.
Jacob smiles. “That is our solution so you won’t be able to toss and turn your way out of your bunk on this tour. Danny and I put it together for you.”
At the sound of her husband’s name, Kate lifts her head. “Danny, she found your present!” Kate hops up off the couch, straightening her shirt with a little throat-clear that means she totally forgot about the bus full of people who just witnessed what they were doing.
“It’s not really my present,” Danny says, adjusting his pants as he stands up. “I drank beer while Jakey-boy built it, and I told him to build it a little higher.”
“Yeah, but it was still your idea,” Jacob says.
Jera hasn’t moved. “It um, kinda looks like a toddler bed,” she says. “A little bit.”
“Well, actually it’s both. You were worried about what we’d do when Maya came on the bus. Now when we have the bedroom, she can just sleep in that bunk and be safe and sound.” Jacob smiles.
“Right, yeah!” Jera says, too loudly. She’s still staring at the padded bumper.
I stuff my face into my pillow, but it does nothing to block the tension as the bus falls into silence. I hate the feeling of struggling to keep a smile on your face when people are trying to help you and you just want to punch them for it.
“Here, want to share my people-making-out-in-the-lounge bunker?” I ask, reaching out and pulling Jera up into my bunk. Scooting my hips all the way to the back of the bunk, I snap the curtain closed in front of us. I hug her into my chest and duck close to her ear so I can whisper, “They were trying to do a nice thing, Jera. I know it seems really condescending right now, but think how Jacob feels when you come home and you’re all bruised up from falling out of the bunks.”
She sighs and turns her head. “I know,” she whispers. “But seriously, they made me a toddler bed.”
I jiggle her a little bit. “Look grateful, midget.” Outside my bunk, no one’s talking and I’m betting they’re all giving each other the “What did we do wrong?” faces.
“Yeah, maybe in another minute.” Jera lays her head onto my bicep, snuggling more securely into my arms...which is when she freezes.
Jera catapults out of the bunk. The curtain explodes out of her way as she lands on her feet, shrieking, “JAX POKED ME WITH HIS PENIS!” before running into the bedroom and slamming the door.
The curtain settles again, far enough open that I can’t hide from Jacob. His arms brace against the bunks on either side of the aisle, muscles rippling from his fingertips all the way up into a jaw as tight as piano wire. He was bench pressing 320 last week. Shit, this is going to hurt.
“Ah, look, man—” I fumble.
Danny says, “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it rolls on the tour bus. We just chase Jera around, poking her with our penises.” He slaps Jacob on the back. “Welcome aboard, mate.”
“I didn’t really poke her with my penis,” I try to explain, because the guy can throw a hardball at nearly one hundred miles per hour. I have no interest in clocking his punching speed. “She more like...rolled into it. It’s a small bunk.”
“That really your story, buddy?” Kate says. “Cock’s so big you can’t even fit it in the bunk?”
I hold up a hand. “Hey, you said it, not me.” Jacob is still glaring at me, and fortunately, my phone rings before I turn to stone. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. I’m pretty busy. And important,” I add, finally managing to get the device out of my pocket. “Oh, hi, Ava,” I say loudly, because maybe that will save me. “So good to hear from our also busy and important tour mate right now.” I emphasize the word ‘tour mate’ for Kate’s benefit. Ava and I are friends, professional friends. For that whirlwind week of constant camera time, we kind of had to be, and it was for the good of the band, so it’s not like I need to apologize.
“Are you being held for ransom?” Ava asks. “Or are you just being super weird and awkward?”
“No, nothing’s going on. Not a thing.” The best days of the last two months were when Ava and I did pre-tour publicity without our bands. I’d much rather have her keep that image of me: the one haloed with the sexy glow of camera flashes, not the one crammed into a summer-camp-like bunk, trying to hide a very summer-camp-like inappropriate boner.
Kate leans into the phone. “Jax just nudged Jera with his meat-sword and he’s using this phone call to distract her husband from doing creative dentistry.”
“Great. That is a very helpful summary of the situation, O’Neil.” I flip her off. “Really living up to the name right now.” She turns and high-fives her husband and I snap the curtain closed. “In other news, if I can trade sexual favors to get a spot on your plane, I’m definitely into that. Your pilot’s a chick, right?”
“My pilot is very un-baby-poultryish, but then, it’s my plane. Shouldn’t you be bargaining with me for a seat?”
I pause and blink at the phone. “Well, in that case, name your price. Do you want to go by the hour or separate sexual acts?”
Kate rips the curtain open. “You can’t fuck our boss. Give me the phone.”
“A: she’s not our boss, she’s our...running mate or something.” I roll away from Kate’s grasping hands, curling around the phone so she can’t steal it from me. “B: you fucked your boss first.” Kate gasps, and I grin, wishing I could risk turning back over to see her face right now. “Sorry, Ava. Our manager is having some kind of personality breakdown right now. Making wild accusations. I’d discard any emails or texts you get for the next forty minutes or so.”
“A: The price just doubled, right around the time you compared me to Mike Pence,” Ava says. “B: are you arguing with your bandmates about fucking me?”
My cock kicks—hard—at the casual way her tongue wraps around the word “fuck.”
“Hey, you’re the one who just doubled the price.” I curl into a ball, because Kate’s sharp fingers are jabbing me in the back, looking for a ticklish spot. “I couldn’t afford it without throwing in the Full Monty.”
“Mmm,” Ava purrs, and my eyes roll back into my head like she just stroked her nails down my entire body. “The Full Monty is nudity, my friend, and that’s just the tip, not the price. If you can’t come up with the currency to pay for your seat without resorting to the whole enchilada, you don’t have the kind of skills to make it on my plane.”
I wish that publicity tour could have been longer. I barely opened my mouth when we weren’t in front of a camera, for fear of making an ass out of myself in front of my rock and roll idol. Given the way she’s joking with me now, I apparently missed a chance to get to know an insanely cool girl. So when I respond, I give up on playing it safe and polite.
“If you want me to give you just the tip, sweetheart, that can be arranged,” I drawl. “But we’re talking a couple of plane rides for that sort of restraint.”
“Oh my God, Jax, are you having phone sex with Ava?” Jera yelps through the bedroom wall by my head.
“Can we pretend you can’t hear my private conversation through the wall?” I cover the mouthpiece to my phone. “And then maybe tonight when you bang your husband two feet from my head, I’ll pretend I’m not critiquing how long it took him to get you off.”
“Hey.” Until Danny’s voice stomps through the tangle of conversations, I don’t register that Kate just stopped trying to tickle me.
“Sorry,
Ava, one sec.” I roll over and swat the curtain the rest of the way back, holding my phone against my chest. “What’s wrong?”
Danny tips his head toward the bedroom, where Jera is suspiciously silent, and then he gives a quick shake of his head. Okaaay, so their sex life is off limits. That would have been good to know. Jera gives as good as she gets at band practice, but maybe Jacob’s sensitive? Or maybe I hit a hot button? I try to think back to what I said, then notice Kate’s chewing her lip and Jacob’s nowhere to be seen. So okay, I’m definitely handing out apologies later.
Big surprise.
The bus engine growls to life. I adjust my pants and climb out of the bunk, because I want some coffee before we get going. If I don’t make it myself, Kate will subject us to her caffeine-whore sludge.
“So, I think we were debating just the tip vs. the whole enchilada,” I say into the phone. “Unless you called for a reason other than reminding yourself how juvenile life was on a tour bus.”
“When I was on a tour bus, I was a little kid, and everyone’s boss. I don’t remember it being that fun, actually.”
“Ouch, seriously?” I guess starting to tour at thirteen would make it a little weird. “Well, if you want a taste of the real slumber-party-meets-frat-house madness over here, feel free to ride along anytime.”
“Careful,” she says. “I might just take you up on that.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, I was just calling to see if you were going to need all four fog machines for your set. It’s nice to get them dried out before we pack up, so if you only need two, that’ll speed up load out on the nights you close.”
“Uh...” I scramble for an answer that makes it look like I’ve given a single thought to fog machines.
Normally, it’d probably be the stage manager talking to the production manager about something like this, but Ava’s a force unto herself. She was amazing during the pre-pub tour: she had every schedule memorized, knew everyone’s names at the radio stations and magazine offices we hit, and she could swap effortlessly from promo to fundraising for her pet charity. Not to mention the badass factor that her “pet charity” consisted of martial arts instructors traveling around to teach self-defense to high school girls. Basically, Ava’s the on-top-of-her-shit performer I want to be when I grow up.
“We can do with two fog machines, no problem.” I flip on the tap to fill the carafe, and Danny tosses a glance at me as he passes on his way to the front of the bus.
“Curt, one sec, okay? Jax, I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.”
Of course she does. Because her dickhole of a manager couldn’t let her have two minutes of fun without scowling all over her parade.
“I’ll let them know about the fog machine, though. And I’ll see you tonight.” She pauses. “Well, unless you manage to bribe someone on my crew with that legendary enchilada of yours. Then I’ll see you on the plane.”
I go to punch the ON button for the coffee and miss, stubbing my finger against the counter. I suck in a breath and cradle my throbbing hand into my chest, cursing silently as I spin in a circle, trying to think past the pain to say something witty.
“Uh, yeah. You better watch out for that. Tonight.” Is she flirting or just making a joke? My pulse surges. If she’s flirting, then... “Not that I’d go after the crew. I like to go straight to the top. For my bribery, I mean.” Jesus, I haven’t been awake long enough for this conversation.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” There’s a smile in Ava’s voice. “Bye, Jax.”
Heat flushes through me and I forget about my hand. “Yeah, so I’ll see you—” But she’s already hung up. I cough to cover my aborted goodbye, and drop my phone into my pocket.
Danny nudges me out of the way to get to the coffee pot. I glance around the bus to be sure no one heard my fumbling at the end of that conversation, but Jacob’s at work on his laptop at the dinette table, and the girls have disappeared into the bedroom.
Danny turns and holds out a cup of coffee. I frown, suspicious, but all he has to do is kick up an eyebrow and I suddenly get why he thinks I need the extra caffeine.
I kick the toe of his boot. Coffee splashes over the rim of the cup and onto my Himalayan leather shoes, which are practically newer than the liquid staining them. I give him a death glare and snatch the cup before he can do more damage. “Thanks for caring, numb nuts.”
He doesn’t even laugh out loud. That silent laugh is smug as shit and twice as annoying.
“You’re just happy I looked like an idiot because you’d stab yourself in the balls with a pencil if I actually got Ava to come hang out on the bus with us.”
Something changes in his face. My eyes narrow, but he turns away before I have time to categorize exactly what it was. He picks up his sketchpad and sits down on the couch.
I toss a glance toward the bedroom, then take the spot across from him, lowering my voice. “Are you really this whiny about Ava trying to hire your wife?”
“Don’t give a shit about that.” His pencil flicks faster across the page.
“Clearly.”
That earns me a glance from those laser-sharp hazel eyes. “Kanye tried to hire her last month,” he says.
I forget to breathe. Kate’s gonna take off on us, I know it. There’s no reason for her to bust ass growing our band’s following when there are so many other bands out there with a more mainstream sound, a healthier yearly gross. This tour is our launch pad but Kate could get clients that are already there. “But...I thought she liked band managing for us.”
“She does. She’s happy.” His pencil stops moving. “Until Ava calls, and she starts biting her lip, worrying if she’s throwing her career away by not chasing the biggest dollar signs.”
I wince. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean it’s Ava’s fault. And shit, it doesn’t really mean anything’s wrong with Kate. She just needs a challenge, that’s all.”
“Yeah, and with Ava around, reminding her she could be managing bigger bands, how long before she moves up? And at that level, will it really matter if she’s managing bands instead of tours? She’ll still be traveling with her performers all the time.”
I grab a seat to buy myself some time to think of something comforting to say. In the old days, I could just invite him to go for a drink and he’d feel my support with every whiskey shot, every clap of pool stick against the cue. Neither of us would have to say anything, and we’d both end up feeling better. Except for the hangover, of course. But I’d take the hangover over choosing the right words any day of the week.
“You guys will be gone for nine months,” Jacob says from the dinette, keeping his volume low enough the girls won’t hear from the back, and ruining any idea I had about him being too busy to listen in. He’s probably designing a bridge to the moon and can still spare three brain cells to show me up at the same time. “She gets to work with Ava anyway, and this tour’s complicated enough to give even Kate a run for her money. Maybe it’ll get her sick of the drama of the big time.”
I shift in my seat. Figures that the one time Danny actually needs something, Jacob jumps in before I can. But of course he does. I like Jera’s husband. He’s a good workout buddy and a better friend, but he’s such a fucking golden boy my shadow looks twice as dark in his glow.
Still, Jacob’s not part of the band, and he never will be. “How about this?” I propose, drawing Danny’s attention back to me. “Part of the reason Kate’s gotten us from big clubs to international tours so fast is because I work the hell out of whatever scrap of publicity she can get us, and charm the dampness into any panties in the area, ages you-don’t-want-to-know to you-also-don’t-want-to-know.” I shrug. “So, what would happen if I suddenly got shy?”
That gets Danny to crack a smile, and it’s like finding a big, guitar-shaped package under my Christmas tree. “Then I’ll have to do all the interviews, dickwad. Thanks for nothing.”
I drop my cup onto my knee and relax, happy that—for once—I haven’t failed my best friend. “You know, a
s soon as she gets us on the cover of Rolling Stone, she’s just going to leave you for somebody with a bigger dick.”
“Huh, that’s gonna be a tough one.” He tilts his head. “How exactly do you think Kate’s going to be able to score a date with your mom?”
I flip him the bird, just for form’s sake. I’m well aware I just slapped a Band-Aid over a wound that could infect this entire tour. I know Kate’s not planning on going anywhere, but she’s going to have to convince Danny of that, hopefully before he takes out his anxiety on Ava. Honestly, I’m just not sure how to process the idea that for once, the landmine he’s tensed for isn’t me.
Chapter 4: The Cover of Rolling Stone
I’ve been holding my breath, waiting for the day of our first show like it is reindeer hooves on the roof. Now that it's here, my presents are overflowing the tree and running out into the street.
The stage vibrates under my feet, my in-ear monitors singing my own music back to me with the shine of a flawless production balance, the fans crawling over each other to try to get up on stage with us.
With me.
The entire world is following my lead. The drums project my heartbeat, the lights flash their approval with every chord progression, and the lasers dance and shimmer, praising my voice.
I never want to leave this moment.
The crowd applauds us back on for two encores. I'm made for this, the cocky little retreat and return with its foregone conclusion. As long as they keep screaming for more, I'll keep giving it to them, and they fucking well know it. And still they beg.
When we blast offstage for the final time, the first thing I see waiting in the wings is a beautiful woman. Her long-lashed eyes are filled with longing and just the touch of envy. It’s an expression so much more suited to the audience than the backstage that I have to blink twice to confirm it’s Ava.
Insatiable (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Book 3) Page 4
