“Shut up.”
Laughing, he plopped himself onto the carpet and leaned back on his hands. Ash had the talent of making himself comfortable on any surface. He had once taken a nap on the cement floor of our old practice space, using his jacket as a pillow. It was truly a gift.
One look at the disorganized mess of my suitcase and my heart wanted to leap out of my chest. As I refolded my clothes, I asked, “Any particular reason you stopped by?”
“Nah, just bored. Thought you might be too.”
“Don’t you have to get ready?”
“My stuff is pre-packed.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I hope you washed your clothes at least.”
With mirth shining in his eyes, he grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
My band members took a sick amount of pleasure in my OCD cleanliness, a trait my mother had passed down to me. She used to say a clean house equaled a happy house. I wanted to believe that was true because my childhood wasn’t anything less than idyllic: two loving parents, a bossy little sister, and a golden retriever named Skip. We were practically the west coast version of the Jeffersons.
“I’m antsy to get on the road where my soul sings,” Ash said.
“Me too. It will be nice to escape Seattle for a bit.” Tucking the corners of my jeans into a neat square, I asked nonchalantly, “What do you think of Melody?”
“Talented, confident, and sexy in a dangerous man-eating way.”
“My ex was a man-eater. Melody is a…” I trailed off, lost for how to exactly describe her with one adjective when a thousand wouldn’t do justice.
“She doesn’t walk man; she swaggers. It’s like this hypnotic dance she does with her hips and before you know it…” Ash clasped his hands together loudly. “BAM! She is sucking the blood dry from your jugular.”
“You have been watching way too many vampire movies.”
“Simply not possible.” Tilting his head to the side, he gave me an assessing onceover and then slapped his palm against his forehead. “Damn! I’m such an idiot. You like her.”
“I’m attracted her. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be?”
“Don’t slit my throat when I say this, but Melody isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. She is a type.”
My hands curled at my sides as a flash of anger exploded inside me, despite the fact that I knew he was right. I just wanted the whole world to see Melody how I saw her—as a tall glass of lemonade on a hot day.
Sean’s fit of hysterics drew my eyes toward him. Curled tightly in a ball, he rolled on the ground, howling. Between breaths of air, he spoke. “You should see your face! Oh my god! You totally want to kill me.”
“Can you blame me?”
I zipped up my suitcase and walked into my bedroom, leaving Ash to stumble after me. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but the macho chest-thumping side of you is funny.”
I was glad he found the humor in it, because I didn’t. With my ex-wife, possessiveness didn’t enter my vocabulary. She used to throw herself at guys to get a rise out of me, as if me beating up some dude would prove I cared for her.
I turned and met a grinning Ash. “It’s a real hoot. Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I shook my head and he smiled. “I’m done with jokes, swear. I heard that new action movie with Vin Diesel is a thrill a minute.”
“Sounds awful. How ‘bout a comedy with Will Ferrell?”
“Sure.”
As we entered my open living room/kitchen, Ash searched the upper cabinets for snacks. “Are you on a new diet? You hardly have any food in here.”
“I forgot to go to the supermarket.”
Shoving aside cans, he shrieked. Either he had found a mouse or some substance to cure the munchies—hopefully the latter; I couldn’t deal with a vermin infestation before leaving.
“Do you have any cheese?” Ash dumped a bag of tortilla chips onto a baking sheet. “Sour cream, guacamole?”
“All of the above.”
After popping the nachos into the oven, we spread out on the roomy couch and turned on the latest Will Ferrell movie, Get Hard.
A BLARING FOGHORN WOKE ME up the next morning. My hand blindly reached for the source of the noise, knocking my cellphone to the ground. I yanked a pillow over my head and shut my eyes again. No one should be forced to wake before the sun rises. Footsteps padded into my bedroom, the wailing stopped, and I settled deeper into my mattress.
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Actually, if a naked Melody were curled up next to me, that would be pure unadulterated bliss. Sleep came in at a close second.
The world shook with a mighty force as someone yelled, “EARTHQUAKE!”
As I scrambled to an upright position, my heart thumped wildly in my chest. I threw back the covers and ran butt-ass naked to the doorway where my spine pressed against the wood. Laughter infiltrated my hazy mind. Looking around the room, my gaze locked onto Ash, who stood on top of my bed.
“You fucking asshole,” I growled.
“I have strict instructions to get you to the tour bus five minutes till 7, by any means necessary.”
“What time is it now?”
“Six thirty.”
Grumbling, I shoved my legs through a pair of basketball shorts. “My guest room is off limits to you from here on out.”
“Fine with me. Your pillows are like lumps of coal.”
I slammed the bathroom door shut and then yanked it back open. Ash predicated what I would ask before my mouth opened. His feet landed gracefully on the floor as he jumped off my mattress. “Coffee is in the kitchen, as are donuts.”
“Thanks man.”
“Any time.”
With a bucket of caffeine and sugar in my bloodstream, Ash managed to fulfill his promise and got me to the hotel on time. My bandmates were huddled near the tour bus.
Luke raised his mug in greeting. “Morning.”
“It’s too early to be morning.”
“Dude, this is nothing. I have been awake since two in the morning. Nil contracted a wicked case of food poisoning and the twins have been wailing in misery with her.”
“You sure you don’t want to go with us?”
“Marlene would have my balls.”
Laughing, I slapped him good-naturedly on the back. “Hang in there.”
Noah waved me over. “Hey Sean! Help me load the gear.”
The downside to working with an independent startup-label was you had to act as a roadie and a musician. Also, the digs weren’t nearly as luxurious. Compared to our last one, this bus looked like the druggie stepchild. Still, we were all in agreement that without the noose of a traditional label around our necks, we had the creative freedom to experiment with new sounds. Matthew’s next album would be unlike anything the fans had heard before.
Noah groaned quietly under his breath as his spine stiffened. “Damn it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the cause of his discomfort: the camera attached to Melody’s face. She swung it around and pointed it at Ash and Luke. Instead of ignoring her, Ash launched into an Irish jig. Her laugh felt like a thousand-volt electric shock. If I hadn’t been awake before, I was now.
“I hate being filmed.” Noah flung my suitcase into the storage compartment. “It reminds me of the awful family vacations I used to go on as a child.”
“It’s only for six weeks.”
“Six weeks is a long-ass time to be constantly harassed by a camera.”
“Trust me, you’ll get used to it after a while.”
“Doubt it,” he murmured.
I set the last piece of gear inside and slammed the lid shut. As I wiped my hands on my jeans, my gaze was immediately drawn to Melody. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth in concentration. The modest knee-length skirt she wore contrasted with the white button-up tucked in at the waist and gave off a “Hit me Baby One More Time” vibe. I wanted to run my fingers up along the inside of her thigh and plunge them into
her sweet core, knuckle deep.
Who was I kidding? There would be no forgetting the camera when its owner made my cock jump to attention with her mere presence. Jesus, I was totally and utterly fucked.
PANNING MY CANON XF 100 HD camera around the parking lot where the band was gathered to say their goodbyes to their loves ones, I smiled at the moment I captured: Matthew whispering sweetly to his girlfriend, Camilla. Anyone within a fifty-mile radius could see how incredibly in love they were.
Over his left shoulder, Sean’s gaze locked onto mine through the lens and a grin that should have been outlawed in all fifty states tilted his lips up. I could practically see the dirty thoughts swimming around in his head. Flustered, my palms grew damp with sweat and loosened their grasp on the heavy piece of equipment. It would have shattered on the ground if Sean didn’t have the reflexes of a cat.
As he supported the underside of the camera, his citrusy scent wafted under my nose. “Whoa there, are you okay?”
The red blinking dot in the corner of my viewfinder went out as I pressed the off button. I waited until my flaming red cheeks didn’t give me away and then lowered the camcorder. “Fine, although exhausted. My sister’s roommates threw a rager until five in the morning.”
That part was true. I hadn’t a clue how anyone managed to stay up past midnight. My body immediately shut down into rest mode when the clock struck twelve.
Sean’s eyebrows drew together. “I thought you were staying at the hotel.”
“No. My sister goes to UW so whenever I come visit, I bunk with her.”
“Why didn’t you say that yesterday when we were at the elevator?”
My shoulders hit my ears. “Because I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
“I once had to drum naked in front of an audience of a thousand plus. After that, nothing embarrasses me.” Sensing my burning curiosity, he explained, “It was for a charity event.”
“After seeing the two-page spread in Cosmo, I’m starting to get the sense you have an aversion to clothes.”
Unashamed, he wiggled his eyebrows. “You have to use your best assets to your advantage.”
“Next you will quote a cheesy metaphor like pain is weakness leaving the body and I’ll be required to punch you in the nuts.”
“Nah, I’ll never be that much of a douche. I’m aiming for a healthy mix of eighty-five percent normal guy to fifteen percent bro.”
“Smart. You don’t want to end up like my sister’s brotastic fuck buddy.”
“Brotastic? Did you make that word up?”
“Yea, maybe.” His rich laugh coaxed a smile from my lips. “I swear he is the walking definition. My sister can’t see it now, but she will after she wakes up smelling like Axe body spray for the umpteenth time.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty, but she still acts like a teenager and manages to give me a heart attack about five times a day, which is a feat considering we are hardly ever in the same state, let alone on the same continent.”
Sean’s gaze warmed as if he understood my plight. “It must be hard to be away from her.”
“It is. When I fell into this job, I didn’t really consider the repercussions.”
“Let’s go folks!” Matthew called, interrupting our conversation. “Our first concert is tonight at seven and we have a long drive ahead of us.”
“I’ll see you on the bus,” I said.
He nodded and returned to his task of loading their gear into the storage compartment.
Camilla tucked into Matthew’s side and acted as the official greeter. With reddish blonde hair and eyes as green as grass, she seemed the polar opposite of Matthew.
She stuck out her hand and I shook it. “Hi! My name is Camilla. You’re Melody, right?”
“That’s me.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
“I love the documentary you did about the lack of clean water in India.” Camilla clutched her heart. “The little boy who had to walk ten miles every day to the well—wow. May I ask what happened to him?
My eyes drifted over her shoulder where the city faded to a backdrop of extreme poverty: kids wailing, the scent human of feces wafting on the breeze, ramshackle huts made out of scrap metal. “He was a rickshaw driver up until an accident took his young life.”
Camilla’s sharp intake of breath sent me hurtling back to the here and now. I silently cursed when I saw tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Dammit. When would I learn that people want a happy ending despite the fact that they belong in novels and hardly happen in real life?
“Sorry. I should have lied and said he found his way out of poverty and was living a full happy life in Bombay.”
“Don’t apologize.” Camilla squeezed my palm with a watery smile. “I think it’s important to not live in a bubble.”
Matthew’s brows creased as he studied me closely. “Have you ever done a documentary of the entertainment sort before?”
“Nope, but I’m excited to dive into a lighter subject and shows your fans who Matthew Lee is.”
“And you won’t get bored filming a bunch of rock stars when you could be in the trenches, making a difference?”
“Do you not want me here?” I asked coolly.
“I won’t lie, Luke kind of sprung this whole idea on us at the last minute, and at first I wasn’t sold on it. However, based on the few documentaries I have seen of yours, I know you’re really good, and I think you can bring a personal spin to my brand that my audience is craving.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”
“There isn’t a ‘but’. I guess I’m just curious why you chose to work on this film.”
Camilla saved me from concocting an answer that would have shined a spotlight on my personal issues—issues in New York I’d run away from like a freaking coward.
“Honey, stop being such a nosey Mary. Melody is here because she wants to be here, simple as that.”
Kissing the top of her head, he yanked her tighter into his side. “You sure you can’t come with us? You keep my head on straight.”
“Ugh! You guys need to lay off the mushy stuff. It’s making my teeth ache,” Ash bemoaned as he sidestepped around me and walked up the stairs.
The interior of the bus matched the outside—worn down and dingy—but it did have a working bathroom. What more did you need? After everyone was accounted for, our driver hit the road. In those ten hours, I captured footage of the band playing cards, goofing off, and strumming their instruments, little glimpses into the men they were behind the rock star personas.
WELCOME TO TWIN FALLS, IDAHO!
Green rolling pastures spanned the highway, a far cry from the grit of the city. Adorable A-frame barns tilted precariously in the grass and horses roamed free. It looked like a country song.
Sean plopped next to me on the bench and stared out at the passing landscape. “My dream is to someday own a piece of land out here.”
“You don’t strike me as a country bumpkin.”
“I like the quiet. It’s peaceful and allows me to think. Although…” His mouth scrunched adorably to the side. “Right now it’s better I don’t have that opportunity.”
“Why?”
“I tend to analyze things to death.”
“So let me get this straight - you don’t like clothes, you’re overly analytical, and you have a soft heart for charities. What else should I know about you?”
In a hushed whisper, he confessed, “I have a horrible voice, like really terrible. My mother once compared it to a cat getting thrown in a tub of water.”
My bellowing laugh drew curious stares from the other bandmates and I smothered the sound with my hand. “Oh my god.”
“That’s why I never had any ambition to be the front man of a band.” He twirled a set of wooden drumsticks between his fingers with ease. “Drumming is what I’m good at it and what I plan to stick with until I’m old and gray.”
My inner documentaria
n was itching to grab my camera, but it would stop the natural flow of our conversation, which I was very much enjoying—a little too much, if I were being truthful.
I stared quizzically at the scuffed drumsticks. “Aren’t those a tad small for you? They look child sized.”
“They are. I have had them since I was twelve and carry them around as my good luck charm.”
“Like a rabbit’s foot?”
“Exactly. Do you have any talismans?”
My hand reached into my purse and closed around a Saigon bank pen. “Don’t laugh.”
“I would never.”
I placed it in the center of his palm, and Sean studied it as if it were the lost key to Atlantis. “I’m guessing there is a story.”
“Do you want to hear it?”
“Please.”
“A couple years ago, I worked at an orphanage in Saigon. The director heard about my true passion through the grapevine and asked if I would do a small film to promote the orphanage. Due to a stroke of luck, the video went viral and the Make a Wish Foundation contacted me to do a similar video. The day I got a check from them, I ran to the nearest bank and kept the pen I signed my name with. It’s a reminder of where I started.”
“Do you always work with philanthropic organizations?”
“Not always. I just prefer to.”
“So then why are you here?”
“Matthew asked the same question earlier.”
Sean’s probing gaze held me captive. “I heard, and I’m curious what your answer is.”
“It isn’t that cut and dry.”
“We have about an hour before we hit our destination.”
As I nibbled the inside of my cheek, it occurred to me how odd it was that I was so reluctant to reveal my current relationship status, as if doing so would ruin whatever far-fetched fantasy I had about Sean and me.
I was engaged to a man I adored and had no plans to pull a runaway bride act because my hormones ignited whenever Sean was near. Telling him would make the boundaries clearer.
What if I was being presumptuous though? What if Sean wasn’t as attracted me to as I was to him? What if the boundaries were already clear and I was the only one who wanted to take a diving leap to the other side? That would make me another stupid groupie who had lost her head because of a pair of dimples and sky blue eyes.
Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) Page 3
