Noah rolled his eyes. “Before I get gray here, huh?”
“Too late.”
“Blond hair, asshole. Not gray.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Noah frowned and touched his temples. “Blond,” he said firmly.
I snorted. “We got The Tonight Show.”
Kenny’s face lit up. “Oh my God. That’s amazing.” She dragged me closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Wow. How? When?”
“We leave tomorrow morning.”
“Try today, bud. It’s already one in the morning.”
“Yeah. Six o’clock flight. Can you two come?”
Noah shrugged. “I’ll have someone cover my shift.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Night.” Kenny waved at my brother.
“Can you come?”
She nodded. “I’ll work it out with Carter.”
“Thank God. I want you there with me.” Excitement bubbled under my skin. We’d had one shot at going on The Tonight Show back when it had been Jay Leno, but we’d been bumped for Robert Downey Jr. during the Iron Man craze.
Things never seemed to line up after that. Between tours and the fluctuation of our level of fame over the years, it never happened again. Now, for the first time, that stupid magazine had done something for us as a band.
I wrapped her legs around my waist. “Since we have to get up in three hours, I suppose I should take you back to bed.”
“That would be the prudent thing to do.”
My cock hardened as the seam of her cutoffs rubbed against me. “Three hours of sleep isn’t really worth mentioning, is it?”
She bit my lower lip. “We can sleep on the plane.”
“I love the way you think.” I hiked her up higher, tossed her over my shoulder, then took the stairs.
“Hunter!”
I brought my hand down on her ass. “Don’t wiggle.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
* * *
Kennedy
I couldn’t remember ever being so tired.
Lila and Dex were sitting across from us, quietly talking, and Hunter had blinked out a nanosecond after we took off. Damn seasoned traveler. I’d conditioned myself to do micro-naps on flights, but I couldn’t seem to settle enough to drop off.
We’d been living in a very nice little bubble for the last few days. This was the first time we’d actually be out and about as a couple.
People already thought we were an item, but there’d been no sign of us together for the last few weeks. The promotional mini tour had been the focus of Hammered’s social blasts in the trades, Facebook, Twitter, and every other digital outlet.
As someone who made a living using the ins and outs of social media, I still couldn’t pinpoint why certain people blew up the internet, and why others were ignored. Just when I’d thought Hunter and his Manaconda treatment was fading from the public eye, a new onslaught of memes had taken Instagram by storm.
The third print run from Rolling Stone should have glutted the market, but I still found copies going for obscene amounts on auction sites, especially signed ones. Hunter was learning to curb his growls when people shoved the magazine into his hands for a signature.
I only hoped he’d continue to do so when we got to New York. There’d be a mob outside of The Tonight Show. Between people waiting for tours, hoping for celebrity sightings, and to actually get inside for the taping, it was usually a mess.
Giving up any semblance of propriety, I lifted the arm between our seats, and Hunter’s much heavier one, and snuggled in against his chest. His steady heartbeat and his low grumble of my name dissolved some of my tension.
The captain called for the attendants to prepare for landing just as I dozed off. At least that’s how it felt. I wasn’t exactly at my best when we were making our way down to the tarmac.
We’d landed at a small airport outside the city, but someone had gotten wind of the flight manifest. There was a sizable group of people waiting behind a corded off area. Keys, Owen, and Zach headed right for the crowd. Cameras and phones were already out.
I recognized a few of the paparazzi in the crowd. Hunter caught my hand in a tight grip. “You’re not going anywhere without me, Kenny.”
“Of course I’m not.”
He grinned down at me. “Damn right.”
The photographers raced around the corded off area. Hunter slipped on sunglasses, but gave the paparazzi a sexy, effortless smile. He made a beeline for the crowd and signed everything they put in front of him.
Wyatt lifted a twelve-year-old girl who was nearly trampled and posed with her and her mother in a goofy picture. He also ended up in a heap of fans for an Instagram selfie that would be posted on Wyatt’s account. His arm was long enough to get quite a few people into the picture.
There were several rude comments tossed around from the paparazzi looking for juicy footage. I looked for Reed, but spotted him escaping with Lila and Dex into the waiting limo.
For the most part, Hunter ignored them, but I could feel his tension rising with each shouted comment about why he and Reed were fighting. I’d been out of the loop with them on a personal level, and Hunter wasn’t exactly the oversharing type when it came to his relationship with Reed lately.
A flash of white in my periphery made me turn.
“What?” Hunter asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just too many people, I guess.”
“Yeah. I hear that.” He held up his hand. “Okay, guys, one shot for my Instagram and we’re out, all right?”
There was a chorus of boos, but they were mostly good-natured. He turned his back on the crowd and lifted his phone. Right before he took the picture, he spun me into him, his arm banding around my middle.
The shot was perfectly candid and sweet, with a side of fan frenzy. Then he took another shot of the crowd itself. “Who’s coming to Jimmy Fallon tonight?”
There was a chorus of groans and a few yesses.
“Tell ya what, we’ll put our rehearsal on our YouTube. How’s that sound?”
There were cheers and a lot of phones came out of pockets. That was big news.
“Indie will kill us,” Wyatt muttered.
“I’ll take the heat,” Hunter answered.
“It’s a damn good plan,” I said to no one in particular.
Hunter beamed. “See? Good plan.”
“Speaking as a PR person.”
“Of course,” Wyatt said.
I shrugged. “Go get that buzz. And look, you didn’t even have to punch someone.”
“Har-har,” Hunter said. He slung his arm around my neck. “Ready for phase two of the madness?”
“Yep.”
He ushered me to the limo. Keys and Owen tumbled in behind us.
“Where’s my case going to fit?” Zach said from outside.
Keys leaned forward in her seat. “You were supposed to leave that with the rest of the instruments.”
Zach hugged the case to his chest. “No. Not Lorraine.”
“Here we go,” Wyatt muttered.
Owen reached for the case. “I can put Lorraine between me thighs, mate.”
“You wish,” Zach groused.
“Just for the ride. No harm. I won’t even touch her locks.” Owen’s Irish accent deepened, as did the wattage on his smirk.
“Asshole.”
“Nah, seriously. I can fit it.”
Zach’s fingers tightened on the handle of the case.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dex grabbed the case and jammed it against the back corner of his bench seat. “Get in the fucking limo, would you?”
Keys’s eyes went wide. “Testy.”
“I’ve had to listen to you people prattling on all morning without a coffee.”
“That’s your own fault,” Lila said. “No one told you to do a cleanse during a promotional tour.” She rapped the roof as Za
ch finally climbed into the stretch limo.
“Where’s Bats?” Hunter asked.
Lila slid her stylus smoothly down her iPad. “He took a cab. Said he had to do something before rehearsal.”
Hunter’s hand fisted. I covered it with my own and he blew out a slow breath before he opened his hand and laced our fingers together.
Dex and Lila worked quietly on their devices. Keys, Zach, and Owen were sitting on one side of the limo, legs stacked over each other’s as Owen recorded a ridiculous play-by-play about the ride into midtown.
Keys bounced in her seat. “We need to see The Naked Guitar guy.”
“Naked Cowboy,” Zach corrected.
“Whatever. There’s naked going on and I need to see it.”
“Perv,” Wyatt said from the other bench seat across from them.
“Undoubtedly,” she said with a cheeky grin. She untangled herself, then slid down to where the driver was. “Hey. Hi there.”
“Yes, miss?”
“What’s your name?”
“Charles, miss.”
“Okay, Chuck, we need to go through Times Square.”
“We don’t have time for that, Faith,” Lila said without looking up from her tablet.
“Aww, come on. We never have time to explore the city when we’re touring.”
Wyatt folded his arms. “That’s because you want to take pictures with everyone we see, Trouble.”
“Can I help it if my fabulous sense of style makes me stand out?”
I hid a smile behind my hand. Keys took a page out of the British music scene style. Short leather jacket with crazy shirts, skinny jeans, and Chucks in every color of the rainbow. Today she had a purple sneaker on one foot, and a yellow on the other. The blue she’d had in her hair the last time I’d seen her had faded to a mere tint in her champagne-blonde hair.
“You look more like you went shopping with Jazz from Oblivion,” Wyatt said.
“Oh, I’d totally go shopping with her. Oh man, I should totally call her up and see if she wants to do a crossover.” She slid back to where the guys were filming. “Hey, if you want to see me and Jazz Duffy do a crossover video, then let’s make it happen. Share, share, share and tag us both!”
I pulled out my phone and texted Carter to push the video in our usual places as well. Cross-promotion between bands was a very effective tool. Even if Oblivion itself was having tough times, this would be a good way for Hammered and Oblivion to share some social space.
“What are you doing?”
I looked up at Hunter. “You know me. Can’t ever stop working.”
“No, you certainly can’t.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead absently, but his attention was still elsewhere.
A silent conversation went on between Wyatt and Hunter before he sat back again and gave me a half smile.
“What?” I mouthed to him.
He shook his head and tightened his grip on my hand.
The limo took a side street that was blocked off for guests. Lila and Dex got out first.
“Finally.” Indie ducked her head in. She sat down where Lila and Dex had been sitting. “Where the hell is Reed?”
Hunter’s brows snapped down. “He’s not here?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” Indie slumped back on the seat. “All right, we’ll focus on the important stuff. The paparazzi is here in full force, and they’re all assholes.”
“It is New York City,” Zach said.
“Truth.” Indie sighed. “Go in the side door and head to the back. Your instruments came in with me last night.”
“Except Lorraine.” Zach patted his case.
Indie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Zach.”
“What? What if she got lost?”
“We would all perish,” Owen quipped.
“Lorraine is the heart and soul of the solo for ‘Cathedrals’, you uncouth bastards.”
“Is it like this all the time?” I asked Hunter.
“Hmm?” He looked down at me with a distracted smile. “Oh, yeah. Pretty much.”
I tapped my middle fingernail against my opposite thumbnail. I really didn’t want today be ruined by the ongoing feud between Bats and Hunter.
Indie pulled out her phone. “All right. I’ll find Reed. You guys get going.”
Everyone tumbled out, scattering in pairs. Hunter swung his legs out, then turned around to offer me a hand. I stepped out, almost hobbling myself as I took in the sheer volume of people lined up behind the barrier. Hollywood movie release, I’d been there done that, but this? We were in a back alley, in the middle of the afternoon for a taping of a late night show. It absolutely blew my mind that there were this many people waiting to gawk at the band.
The crowd moved like a living organism. A twirl of white and heavy blonde hair was the first thing I noticed. Hunter stiffened next to me.
Victoria Sheer glided by us in flawless white silk, her arm hooked through Reed’s. She turned for the cameras, giving them an exquisite profile shot with her windswept hair flowing behind her.
Then she looked down and away, making sure to turn her body into Reed.
Hunter’s gaze zeroed in on Reed. No words were spoken, but the staredown made my blood chill.
But he didn’t spare a glance at Victoria.
Not a single one. The last little niggle of worry about the hold she’d had on him dissolved like sugar over flame. He truly was worried about his friend.
And I think he was right to worry. Now that I knew he was mine—believed he was mine—it was so very obvious.
I was such an ass.
“That was perfectly choreographed.”
“What?” Hunter frowned down at me.
“Couldn’t you tell?”
“Hunter, we’re running late,” Indie called from the doorway.
He waved to Indie, then focused on me again. “Are you sure?”
“She’s a damn good actress, but yeah. Every move was to maximize a usable shot for the photographers across the way.”
He cupped my face. The fury melted away, and the frown line that had bisected his brows faded. “What the hell would I do without you?”
I shrugged. “End up arrested and wearing a really ugly orange jumpsuit.”
He laughed as he tugged me along to the end of the line. “I look hot in orange.”
“No one looks hot in orange.”
Hunter urged me to his left, then switched our hands so he could hold his up. “I gotta get inside, guys.” His long-legged stride had me trotting to keep up with him.
In heels. Again. Damn him.
He slapped hands all the way down, pausing briefly to shake a child’s tiny one.
The rest of the band had already made it through the line of fans. This time, there wasn’t much mingling to be done. It was just too crazy.
He stopped at the doorway, where Indie was keeping a watchful eye. He used our joined hands to twirl me out, then back and dip me for the fans.
“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.
“She’s not the only one who can give them a show.” His eyes were a misty gray in the early afternoon sun. “This is the one I want the papers to remember. You and me. Always you and me.”
“You are not going to make me cry in front of these people, pal.”
“Never cry.” He lowered his mouth to mine. “Well, maybe sappy girl tears.”
I punched him in the shoulder, then curled my fingers around his neck and gave the crowd a show. I heard the shouts and the wolf whistles, then I forgot about performing. The man had a magic mouth after all.
He righted me, ending the display with a smacking kiss.
Indie stood just inside the door with her arms folded. “If you’re done with the romantic overtures, we’ve got a show to do.”
“Yeah, we do.” Hunter dragged me behind him. Seriously, I was going to have to rethink the four-inch-heels thing being with this guy.
A maze of hallways gave me a blast of déjà vu. This time at the end was a hu
ge empty studio, and the iconic desk on a raised dais.
The band was on the right of it in the little alcove where The Roots played for Fallon. Wyatt looked huge behind the downsized drum kit. Zach and Owen were tuning their instruments, while Keys was organizing her dual keyboard setup with her tech.
Owen called Indie over, and we were left alone.
“Guess I gotta work.” He lifted my fingers to his mouth, but instead of kissing them, he went for the inside of my wrist. “Outside might have been a little bit of a show.” He lightly grazed his teeth over the fragile tissue, pressing a kiss where my pulse was going haywire. “But we’re not. No artifice, and no fake glamour for the camera. You know that, right?”
“I do.” When he kept his gaze locked on mine, obviously searching for something, I pulled his hand down to cup my cheek. “I know. I love you, Hunter. Not the Manaconda.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I love that part, too, but it’s the man I love. Not the magazine cover. The one inside grinning over his guitars. I love the guy who geeks out over a vintage album and gives his time to abandoned animals.”
He lowered his head to mine, bumping our noses briefly. He opened his mouth just as Bats came up beside us. Hunter stiffened.
Bats looked over his shoulder, then back to us.
I moved beside Hunter, our fingers laced together.
“I need you to trust me, H.”
Hunter’s shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do trust you, Bats. It’s Vic I don’t trust.”
“I got it handled.” Reed’s eyes were stark and pleading.
“If you say you’ve got it, then you’ve got it.”
Reed nodded, then his face transformed. The sharp angles of his jawline were emphasized as he tilted his head forward and a white slash of teeth glowed from his dark beard. “Motherfuckin’ Fallon.”
Hunter grinned back at him. “Fuck yeah.”
I stepped back as he let my hand go to clasp his brother’s. He glanced down at me. “Gotta work.”
“I’ll be over here watching.”
I’d figured watching them practice would bore me to tears, but they were actually quite fascinating. Broken, coded phrases and hand signals reminded me of sign language. The guitars seemed a bit loud, but I had to figure that was because of the empty room.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 84
