by Vi Keeland
She rests her head on my chest and releases a loud sigh of contentment. Having her here feels too right to turn her away. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her tight. “Get some sleep.”
The next morning, our bodies are tangled when we wake. I swear it’s like seeing the sunrise for the first time when I watch her eyes flutter open. Fucking beautiful. She smiles and snuggles closer. Yep. I could get used to this…every damn day. Maybe the two of us wouldn’t wake up so early if this was the way we woke up.
“Morning,” she says.
“Sleep good?”
“I did. What time is it?” She arches her back and stretches.
I reach over and swipe my phone from the nightstand. “Eleven.”
“Wow. I haven’t slept this late in years.”
“Me either.”
“Maybe we both get up early because there’s no reason to stay in bed.”
“If I woke up with you next to me every morning, I’d give you a reason to stay in bed.”
She giggles, and the sound makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. It also makes my morning erection harden a little more.
“You know what I was thinking about last night?”
“Me,” I say confidently. The fact that she wound up in my bed might have been the first clue.
She chuckles. “I was thinking it was strange that we kept on pretending we barely knew each other, even after it made sense that we would be friends. I mean, we worked together a few hours a day, yet we never let on that we were even really friends.”
I knew exactly why I did it, but I’m curious to hear her explanation. Unfortunately, a loud knock at my bedroom door interrupts us. “Uncle Sinn.”
Mini–motor mouth is back. “Give me a minute, squirt.”
“Oh, God. I don’t want her to see me in here with you.”
“What? Why?”
“She’s a little girl.”
“So?”
“Do you want her thinking it’s okay to sleep around?”
“Considering she’s never seen me with another woman, my guess is she’d think you were special.”
“That’s sweet. But still. No. Go. I’ll wash up quick. Do you think you can occupy her in the other room so I can sneak out?” She jumps up and runs to the en suite bathroom.
Not exactly the morning I was hoping for after waking up with Lucky wrapped around my body.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucky
I slip my key into the door of the penthouse suite, hoping by some miracle I’ll find it empty. No such luck. Duff and the tour manager, Brett, are sitting on the couch in the living room. Dylan is across from them, his feet propped up on the ottoman. He extends his hand for me to come to him and pulls me down for a kiss.
“Have fun last night with Avery?”
“I did. Thank you for flying her in.”
He nods. “We just ordered lunch up, should be here in a little while. Need to finish going through some tour stuff, then I’ll kick these guys out and we can spend the afternoon together.”
“That sounds nice.” I force a smile. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
I head to the bathroom to attempt to wash the guilt from my body. Only today, it’s not really my body that’s guilty. Flynn and I slept next to each other last night—I’m sure Dylan would not be happy about that if he knew. But nothing happened. Although, the guilt from physical cheating might actually be easier to wash away this morning than the affair I’m having with my heart.
Lunch is delivered when I return to the living area feeling clean on the outside. The inside is a whole different story.
“Ticket sales are up,” Brett says. The three men are now sitting around the dining room table, a platter of sandwiches in the center. “We sold out the rest of the next four shows. Beckham is giving us the recharge we needed. He’s bringing in the younger crowd…the eighteen-to-twenty-two demographic that does the bulk of the spending on music.”
“He’s a showboat. Linc runs circles around his cocky ass. Teenage girls don’t know music from shit,” Dylan spits back.
“They buy tickets.”
“Until the next cookie cutter comes along. We’ve seen a hundred of these guys over the last ten years.”
“I don’t know. Beckham’s got talent. He’s more than just a pretty face,” Duff adds, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. “What do you think, Lucky? You know his chops better than anyone. Is pretty boy a phase or does he have staying power?”
The right answer would be to say no. Dylan’s insecurity about becoming an aging rockstar at the ripe old age of thirty-five does not need to be fueled by my gushing about a younger singer. But the need to defend Flynn wins out. “He’s vocally gifted. He can run from E2 to E6 and his falsetto has major endurance.”
Dylan’s brooding stare is piercing into me when I glance in his direction. Ignoring him, I quickly turn my attention to fixing my plate.
“Told ya,” Duff gloats. “And he’s a pussy magnet. He’s good for the tour. Enjoy it. He’s bringing us new fans, not taking them away.”
“The change from his head voice to his falsetto is choppy. Linc’s is smooth.” Dylan’s tone is definitely less than agreeable; he’s challenging my assessment of Flynn’s vocal ability. I don’t take the bait—no use in arguing over the better vocalist. We’re both influenced by the artist—for entirely different reasons.
“Whatever, man.” Brett shrugs. “I can’t sing for shit. That’s why I manage pains in the asses like you. But I can count pretty damn good and there’s more to count with Beckham on the tour, so I’m happy.”
The afternoon is peaceful, although Dylan is on the quiet side. We watch a movie, then sit around talking about the upcoming venues for the rest of his tour. He frowns when our conversation falls to an awkward silence, and not for the first time today.
“Is everything okay, Lucky?”
“Ummm. Yes. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just seem…off, lately. Like there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear and searches my face. “Is there?”
I furrow my brow.
“You said you didn’t mean to make me feel like you’d rather be somewhere else. You didn’t say there wasn’t somewhere else you would rather be.”
I’m a crap liar. Luckily, there is a truth I can grab onto. “It’s just a big change. I haven’t been on a tour bus in a long time. I feel sort of…unsettled.”
“You’ll get used to it.” He gives me a sly smile. “You know, I had an ulterior motive for bringing you out on this tour.”
“Oh yeah, what is that?”
“Trial run.”
“For what?”
“A full-time position.”
“As a traveling voice coach?”
“As my permanent traveling companion.” His face is serious as he watches me.
I blink in surprise. We’ve been together almost a year and never talked about changing our relationship. My immediate reaction is acute. My palms sweat and a cloak of claustrophobia hits me. I look down to hide my apprehension. “Oh.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…my life is in New York.”
“Is it? You finally let go of Lucky’s, and your boyfriend is on the road.”
My heart feels heavy. The truth is, down deep, my hesitation has little to do with my life back home and more to do with the commitment I’d be making. The only carrot I see dangling in front of me from his offer is that Flynn’s band would eventually be joining the tour as the opening act. But agreeing to essentially move in with my boyfriend just so I could be closer to another man is definitely not the right thing to do. “I don’t think I’m ready for this yet, Dylan.”
“It’s been almost a year, and I’m thirty-five years old. I’m ready.” He sighs and sits down next to me. “Don’t answer me yet. We have another
week and a half before you’re done traveling with us, for work anyway. Let me convince you.”
Not knowing what else to say or do, I nod.
A strain fell upon the peacefulness of the afternoon after Dylan asked me to go on the road with him full-time. It wasn’t anything he said—the unspoken blared much louder. Or maybe it was that I knew I didn’t need to consider my answer.
Avery and I skipped the Easy Ryder show, choosing instead to stay in and drink wine in our PJs. I was pretty sure she didn’t fly halfway across the country to sit in a hotel room, but she insisted and, to be perfectly honest, it was exactly what I wanted to do.
Dylan asked me to sleep with him tonight, rather than spend the night with Avery again. So I called it an early night, knowing he wouldn’t be back from the post-show party yet, but that the wine would lull me to sleep quickly.
The next morning, I wake to a feeling of melancholy. The man I thought I was in love with is sprawled next to me, his bare ass peeking out from beneath the sheet. I always loved how he slept naked; it made the mornings more interesting. But in this moment, I’m questioning everything. What I’ve felt in the past, what I feel today. The only thing I don’t question is heading downstairs for coffee and hoping I won’t be drinking it alone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Flynn
Being on tour with a legendary rock band certainly has its perks. I’ve never really struggled to capture the attention of women. My sister lovingly says it’s because I’m a “full-of-myself dimpled whore,” although I like to think it’s my glowing personality. But last night no personality was required backstage, that’s for damn sure.
What I thought was the post-show laidback style of Easy Ryder, with only a few women permitted through security into the inner sanctum, turned out to have a qualifier—the laidback style of Easy Ryder when girlfriends and wives are around.
The backstage lounge was filled with women who didn’t require small talk. One of whom made that abundantly clear when she greeted me by sticking her tongue down my throat and grabbing my crotch.
When I left, alone, I reasoned that my sister was visiting. That it’s normal for a single guy to turn down a hot redhead who whispers in his ear that she has no gag reflex, in favor of going back to his hotel to wait for his sister and her five-year-old daughter. The fucked-up part? I didn’t even have a hard-on when she pushed her breasts against me and suggested we step into the bathroom.
Yet here I sit, six-o-fucking-clock in the morning, and my dick starts to turn to steel when I see a woman in a tank top and baggy sweats.
But look at how those sweats hang just at the curve of her hip. Sweats can be hot.
I’m totally fucked. Choosing sweats over a woman with her uvula pierced. I need to get my head out of my ass and stop hanging around Lucky like a puppy.
“Good morning,” she whispers and smiles down at me. I’m sitting in the breakfast lounge, having already made her coffee. My eyes languidly feast on her hip before moving up to her perky nipples.
Maybe she likes puppies.
I hold up her mug of coffee. “Morning. How do you feel about dogs?”
I’m thrilled as shit to learn she begged her father for a dog for years, but never got one. Maybe it’s time.
Three hours later, we finish our morning coffee. “You up for a road trip for my coaching session today?” I ask as we head toward the elevator bank.
“Road trip?”
“Yep. Becca has a rental car. I’ll drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She smiles. “I’m going to take the ride with Avery to the airport at one. How about after that?”
“Works for me. Text me when you’re ready.”
“You ready, squirt?”
“What’s her name again?”
“Lucky.”
“That’s right. It’s a funny name.”
“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Lucky’s smile when she sees me strolling to the lobby, hand-in-hand with my favorite girl, lights up her entire face. It might just be the best greeting ever bestowed upon a man.
“Well, this beautiful young lady must be Laney,” she says.
“Uncle Sinn thinks you’re beautiful, too!” Laney shouts. And there goes the talk we had five minutes before we walked out the door about not repeating things.
Lucky arches one eyebrow at me. “Oh he does, does he?”
Laney nods her head fast. “He likes your name, too. He said—”
I cut her off. “Okay, motor mouth, let’s go or we’ll be late.”
Shockingly, Laney doesn’t spill where we’re going on the way to the theater, although there are plenty of hints. She’s wearing an Elsa crown and halfway there asks, “Uncle Sinn. Sing my favorite song!”
“I sang it once last night and twice in the hotel room before we left.”
“Sing it, Uncle Sinn!”
I look at Lucky and laugh. “My sister is raising a tyrant.”
“I can see who’s in charge,” she teases me.
“Oh yeah.” I glance at Lucky and back at the road. “Laney, you know Lucky sings too. She’s actually better than me. I think she probably sounds more like Elsa than I do.
“Really?” Her voice screeches with excitement.
“You bet.” Lucky has no idea what she’s in for yet. It’s hard to keep a straight face.
“Lucky. Will you pwease sing Frozen for me?”
“I would love to, Laney. But I don’t know the words.”
“You don’t know the words?” Through the rearview mirror, I catch Laney’s little nose crinkling in confusion. She’s baffled that someone doesn’t know every word to the entire Frozen soundtrack.
“Actually, Laney, I think she’ll know them soon.” I turn and pull into the parking lot at the theater.
“We’re going to the movies?” Lucky asks.
“Sort of.”
She squints at my cryptic answer, but goes with it anyway. I unbuckle Laney from her car seat and pull the baseball cap I tossed in the back down over my head, adding a pair of aviators for good measure.
“Rockstar disguise?” Lucky teases.
“I prefer ‘rock god’.”
She rolls her eyes.
Inside, I skip the long line and head to the woman collecting tickets at the door. She directs me to Carolyn, the woman I arranged today with on the phone.
“What are you up to?” Lucky asks suspiciously as we head into the theater.
“Just multitasking.”
“Multitasking?”
“Yep.”
The eyes of the woman with the clipboard indicate she recognizes me immediately. Guess my disguise sort of sucks.
“Mr. Beckham. I’m so excited you made it.”
“It’s Flynn. And we’re excited to be here. Right, squirt?” I look down at the girl squeezing my hand tight, and she nods her head vigorously with a smile from ear to ear.
Carolyn laughs. I pull the tickets from my pocket and hand them to her. “Thanks for adding us.”
“I’m a huge fan of Easy Ryder. My older daughter is thirteen. She didn’t know who Easy Ryder was, but when I mentioned your name, she started to hyperventilate. Getting these tickets made me the coolest mom in the world.” She hands me a numbered sign with pins at the top. “At least for today. Tomorrow is another story.”
A girl about five or six runs up to Carolyn and tugs at her arm. “Mommy, that’s the crown I want.” She points to the tiara that has been almost permanently affixed to Laney’s head for the last year.
“How about ‘excuse me,’ Deidre,” she scolds.
“Excuse me. Mommy, that’s the crown I want.”
I chuckle. Guess all little girls are the same.
“Okay, Deidre. Why don’t you go back and sit? The movie is going to start soon.”
Laney looks at me, then back at the other girl. She doesn’t have to say what she’s thinking; I see the questio
n in her face. I nod, telling her it’s okay.
“You wanna borrow it for the movie?” Laney asks her.
“Really?”
“Sure.” She shrugs. “I wear it all the time.”
“Okay! You wanna come sit with me? We’re in the front row and my sister is in the contest.”
Laney turns to me, her eyes asking permission. “Sure. Just no leaving the theater.” I look around. Most of the rows are filled, but there are a few vacant seats in the back. “We’ll just be in the…”
“The gallery is empty if you’d like to sit up there so no one bothers you,” Carolyn points up toward the small balcony. I’m twenty-five going on fifteen. Shit, yeah, I’ll take the balcony in the dark with the hot girl.
“That would be great.” I look at Lucky and wiggle my eyebrows.
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” she says as we settle into the front row of the otherwise empty balcony. “What are the numbers for?”
“The contest.” I shrug.
“Care to elaborate?”
“The local theater club for kids is putting on a Frozen musical. After the movie, the finalists for the lead role are singing.”
“And you’re trying out?”
“I got lucky, the organizer’s daughter wanted to come to tonight’s Easy Ryder concert, but it was sold out. Traded tickets for this movie and auditions for the Easy Ryder show tonight. Figured Laney would love it. She’s obsessed with the soundtrack. Thought she’d get a kick out of me singing, too.”
“That is so sweet.”
“I’m glad you think so. Because you’re singing later, too.”
Her eyes flare. “What?”
The lights dim for the movie to start. She’s still staring at me, expecting an answer. I lift my pointer finger to my lips, shhing her, and whisper, “The movie is starting, no talking.”
Ignoring her glare, I take her hand and mesh our fingers together. They stay intertwined for the entire movie.
When the lights come up, the theater applauds and Carolyn walks to the front of the stage. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to take a five-minute bathroom break and then we’ll get started.”
