“Can you watch them?” Jesse groaned when Wendy stared at him like he was completely fucking insane. “My friend needs me.”
Her face brightened. “Brave?”
“No.”
“So he’s not here?”
“No. But you’re a big girl, right? You must help your mom sometimes?”
Wendy blinked at him as if he must be stupid. “Hell no. They’re not my kids.”
Great. Jesse texted Brave.
Jesse: Can you come to Walmart? Tate’s in trouble. I’m stuck with a bunch of kids.
He held his breath, waiting for the reply.
Brave: Already here.
All right, at least Tate wasn’t alone. Jesse hated not being able to help him, but what was he supposed to do? He put his hands on the handle of the shopping cart, tightening his grip until his knuckles went white.
He held his breath, waiting for the reply.
Seemed like forever before the mother returned. He inclined his head, acknowledging her thanks quickly before half running to the front of the store. With the cart. Which he left by the cash when he saw flashing red and blue lights outside.
Both Brave and Tate were sitting on the curb. Bleeding.
Jesse cursed and knelt in front of Tate, ignoring the cops who were arresting three men off to the side. “What happened?”
Tate shook his head, his whole body trembling. “I came out to bum a smoke. This dude was all like ‘You were checking out my ass!’. So I said, ‘Well yes, you’re a good looking guy.’” He wiped a trail of blood off his bottom lip. “I started going back in when he called me a fucking fag. He followed me with his buddies, so I sent a text out to you guys. He dragged me back out here and him and his friends started hitting me.”
One of Tate’s eyes was already swollen shut. He had an arm pressed to his side like he was in pain.
Jesse glanced over at the men being helped into the back of the cop car, wondering if he could make it there before the doors closed and kill the fuckers. No matter how stupid Tate had been, he didn’t deserve this.
“Hey.” Brave put his hand over the one Jesse had braced on his bent knee. “He’s gonna be all right. I handled it.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Jesse.” Brave’s tone dropped to the one that went straight to Jesse balls. Which was messed up, considering everything, but he had a way of bulldozing over all Jesse’s defenses. “Shit happens. Where’s Alder and Malakai?”
“Probably still looking for that kid.” Jesse ran a hand over his face. “Neither of them keep their phones on. They don’t know—”
“Go get them. Tate and I’ve gotta talk to the cops.” Brave’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Thankfully, there are witnesses. I’m hoping we don’t get delayed. I want to bring Tate to the hospital to get checked out, but—”
“I’m fine!” Tate scowled. “I hate hospitals.”
“I know.” Brave put his arm over Tate’s shoulders. “And I don’t care. You’re going.”
Fuck, I love this man.
“I’ll get the guys back to the bus. Give me a call when he gets checked out?” Jesse smiled at Brave’s nod. A lot of people thought Brave was a complete asshole, but they didn’t see this side of him. The leader who took care of the band. Who was aware of everything going on with the guys, whether they were sick or depressed or just having an off day. He didn’t know all of Tate’s past, but he still kept an eye on the kid, treating him like a little brother. More so then his actual brother.
But the reasons for that were complicated and Jesse stayed out of it. Alder clearly didn’t need anyone, so Brave gave him space. Yeah, Alder worried about Jesse lusting after his brother, but that was because he didn’t really know the man. There was five years between them. Brave was closer to Jesse’s age at thirty, so they’d both lived enough to show the younger members of the band a few things. While Alder had been in college, getting a degree in early childhood education, Brave had been on the road with his first band, Live on Satan’s Time. Brave had once confessed he’d been a lot closer to the oldest brother in the Trousseau clan, Valor, and all his hopes and dream had ridden on LOST making it big.
Valor’s death had been tough on the whole family. Alder and Brave probably wouldn’t even speak now if they hadn’t figured out how fucking good they sounded together.
Jesse found Alder and Malakai, gave them the news, and then had to calm them down. The checkout lines were insane and by the time they got outside, the cops and Brave and Tate were gone. Jesse loaded up the groceries in the back of the van while telling the story of what had gone down in as few words as possible.
Malakai, predictably, looked like he wanted to hunt down the assholes who’d jumped Tate and dismember them. Alder didn’t say much, but he was tense the whole way back to the bus. Once all the bags were unpacked and put away, he disappeared into his bunk with the curtain closed.
The crew was all done packing up the open tent and folding chairs, drivers picked for the van and the bus, and everything running right on schedule. All they had to do was wait to hear from Brave on Tate’s condition.
A few hours passed. The other bands left the lot and the quiet was oppressive as night fell. Jesse perched on the edge of a picnic table behind the venue, waving the rest of the crew off when they asked if they should wait up with him. Whether it was twenty minutes or a full night, they had to grab whatever sleep they could. It was gonna be a long drive, either to the next show or back home to Detroit if they had to cut the tour short.
A cab pulled up and Jesse let out a sigh of relief as Tate stepped out of the backseat. Brave rose from the other side and his gaze locked on Jesse. Pulse stuttering at Brave’s broad smile, Jesse pulled out another cigarette, knowing full well he’d regret all this chain-smoking tomorrow. He let the smoke out slowly, staring up at the clear night sky and the scattered stars that shone brightly for being so close to the city. He heard Brave approach, but didn’t look at him. He needed a few seconds to raise his defenses before he faced the man.
He could deal with Brave being seductive—wasn’t easy, but he’d managed for a while. But the man who’d rescued Tate was harder to resist.
“He’s got a couple bruised ribs and the doctor wants him to take it easy, but Tate’s got his go ahead to do whatever he wants so long as the pain’s bearable.”
Jesse winced, glancing over to see Brave was probably thinking the same thing he was. “Tate’s got a pretty high pain threshold. Does the doctor know he’s a freakin’ drummer?”
“Yep.” Brave sat on the table beside him. “He’s been told to breath normally and not lay around too much. But get plenty of rest.” His lips slanted with amusement. “He asked if I was Tate’s dad. Not sure if I should be insulted or flattered. Mom said I was born a ladies man, so who knows what I was getting into when I was nine.”
Cuffing Brave shoulder with the back of his hand, Jesse made a face. “That’s sick, man.”
“It really is, isn’t it?” Brave’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t want to cancel the show tomorrow, but I won’t let the kid hurt himself worse. He might have trouble sleeping tonight. I’m gonna take a shift behind the wheel if that’s all right?”
“That’s fine.” Jesse dropped his half smoked cigarette and crushed it under his heel. They might as well head out. He’d planned to drive the bus through the night, but sharing the duty would be a hell of a lot better. “I guess I can crash in one of the empty bunks.”
Brave shook his head. “They’re all full of junk. You can sleep in my bed.”
“No.” Jesse wet his lips, trying to keep his tone light as he turned to see Brave frowning at him. “I’m not up for this tonight, Brave. The kid got hurt on my watch. Even if I didn’t give a shit about being used, I’m not in the mood.”
Before he could reach the door, Brave fisted his hands in Jesse’s shirt and pushed him against the side of the bus. He held him there, breathing hard, bringing his lips close to Jesse’s.
“I don’t know where you got the fucking idea in your head that I just want to use you.” Brave pressed against him, brushing his scruffy cheek against Jesse’s smooth one as he whispered. “Being around you drives me fucking insane.”
Swallowing hard, Jesse nodded. “You’re used to getting what you want.”
“Yeah, I am. And you’re a challenge.” Brave rested his forehead on Jesse’s shoulder. “But that’s not why I can’t stop thinking about you. I wanna prove you wrong. I wanna prove I can have something good and not fuck it up.”
Defenses completely wrecked, Jesse fisted his hand in Brave’s hair, jerking him back enough to look into his eyes. What he saw there sealed his fate. He inhaled roughly and nodded. “Okay.”
Brave blinked at him, his lips splitting into that heartbreaking smile he wore so well. “That mean you won’t turn away if I try to kiss you?”
With a soft laugh, Jesse closed the distance between them, brushing Brave’s lips with his own in a soft kiss. “That’s what it means.”
Claiming his lips, Brave tasted him with the same wild abandon he had for everything he was passionate about. The pressure of his lips, his grip on Jesse’s shirt, the way he moved his body, all showed Jesse the lust he’d been holding back. His attempts at seduction had been cautious before, but now they’d come in full force.
Not ready to go all in, Jesse drew away, gentling the kiss as he cupped Brave’s face in his hands, taking in the flavor of honey and ginger and smoke. Brave’s lips were hot, but his cheeks were cool under Jesse’s palms. The night was cold for October in Ohio. The last thing they needed was Brave getting sick on top of Tate being injured.
He could go on kissing Brave all night, but instead, he let his hands fall to his sides and grinned. “Don’t hate me, but we gotta go.”
“I couldn’t.” Brave gave his head a rough shake, then laughed. “Hate you I mean. But you’re right. Do you want me to drive first, or—”
“You check on Tate. I’ve got this.” Jesse hesitated, running his hand over Brave’s tousled hair before forcing himself to move. He got on the bus and immediately noticed Alder, sitting at the table in the front lounge, ear buds in his ears and a pad of paper set up where he was jotting down music notes.
As Brave went to the bunks to check on Tate, Jesse stepped to Alder’s side and waited until he looked up. He wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t sure if he should say anything.
But one glance at Jesse and it was like Alder knew everything. His lips thinned and he let out a heavy sigh.
“I’ll be fine.” Jesse wasn’t sure why he needed to explain, but he did. And he was desperate for Alder to understand. “You can say ‘I told you so’ if I’m wrong. But I don’t think you’ll have to.”
Alder set his black pencil down on the paper, rubbing at the graphite smeared on the side of his left hand. “I’d never say that, Jesse. If he can make you happy…” He pressed his eyes shut. “That’s all I want for you. You deserve to be happy.”
“I am.” Jesse said it without thinking. And realized it was true. He’d been waiting to see if the risk was worth putting his heart in Brave’s hands. Now, he truly believed it was.
Smiling, Alder took a firm hold of his hand. “Then go for it. But don’t forget, I’m here.”
Jesse turned his hand to squeeze Alder’s. “I’ve never doubted that, man. I love you.”
With a rough inhale, Alder nodded. “I love you too.”
Chapter Two
Screaming and singing were very very different. Danica Tallien sat in her hotel room in Vegas, listening to the playlist her agent had sent her. Everything from hard rock to death metal. Some of the music was like a little man in leather and metal studs cracking the inside of her skull with a pickaxe, but she listened anyway. She couldn’t very well dive into the metal culture if she’d never listened to the music. This was kind of like studying the guest list before a party attended by the most influential fashion designers in the industry.
Only, a bit more fun.
A couple of bands had her relaxing and bobbing her head, taking in the complicated riffs and the deep, tri-tones that made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. For these songs even the screams added another layer, like a different range of the instrument a voice was supposed to be. The way the lyrics were snarled and growled made the lead singer sound like an animal. A beast barely under control, restrained only by the message in the aggressive music.
She could picture herself in the pit, jumping and cheering and punching her fist in the air along with the crowds who worshiped these bands. The very idea of being caught in the middle of all those bodies slamming together was invigorating. And terrifying. But so was this whole insane plan to change her image for the media.
Bullet came on and Danica smiled. She’d loved them for a while, even though she tended to stick with lighter pop tunes. Singing along, she finished touching up her makeup. The threatening headache faded away and she was able to listen to the next song without wanting to throw her iPod across the room. She didn’t know the words to this one, but it was good. She checked her iPod for the name of the band. Her pulse sped up and she nibbled on her bottom lip.
Winter’s Wrath, one of the bands she’d be meeting at the after party tonight. She was excited to see them live on stage, but hanging out in the private area reserved for VIPs was a completely different story. And it wasn’t like she could just show up and hang out.
She had to be noticed.
Tightening her jaw, she gave a firm nod and looked down at her tight black jeans, stylishly ripped, and her black ‘Merete’ Wornstar t-shirt which had cuts in the material of the arms, back, and along the bottom edge. More the type of shirt you’d see on stage than in the crowd, but she couldn’t blend in too much. Her waist-length, dark brown hair fell in loose waves, tumbling over her shoulders, held away from her face on one side with three rows of tight braids. Not too revealing, but not cutesy.
She didn’t look like the little girl who’d done commercials and modeled kid’s clothes for companies like J Crew and DNKY. No one would recognize her as the child who’d had backup roles in a couple of shows.
Those accomplishments filled her portfolio. And the experiences were fond memories, but had ended up hurting her career as an adult. She didn’t have the edgy appeal so many designers were looking for.
But that will change. Tonight.
After lacing up her beige heels, she grabbed her purse, double checked for her room key, and strode out. She had about two hours left before the concert started and she needed to grab a bite to eat. Probably takeout in her car, because she wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. One would figure there were enough hot women in Vegas that guys wouldn’t even notice anymore, but they did. And many forgot their manners under the bright lights of sin city.
Halfway down Tropicana, on her way to the little In and Out burger joint on the edge of town, there was a loud Pop! The steering wheel jerked in her hands. She bit into her cheek, tightening her grip to hold the wheel steady as she accelerated slightly to regain control. She eased off the gas, cruised into the other lane, then pulled off the road in front of a closed office complex.
All those lessons and warnings from her grandfather when he’d taught her to drive when she was sixteen had seemed excessive at the time. Now? Damn, she loved that man. He’d be so proud.
Even more so if she used the other skills he’d taught her.
She’d changed tires for friends before—guys and girls—so it didn’t take long before she had the spare secured in place. And aside from a bit of dust, she managed not to get dirty.
It wasn’t until she had her food and was chewing a huge mouthful of the fully loaded burger—her agent would kill her if she caught her eating all this cheese and bacon—that she noticed one of her acrylic nails was broken.
Damn it! She stared at the stupid nail, which with it’s one little flaw, screwed up her entire schedule.
When she was a kid, chicks freaking over a
broken nail used to make her laugh. As she got older, and started modeling, she learned to treat her appearance like a valuable asset. Her grandfather hadn’t had the money to put her through acting classes. He’d helped her pay for a modeling portfolio and she’d repaid him shortly after she’d done her first commercial. Then she got a small part in a TV movie, playing the Native American friend of a girl in an early settlement town in California.
Once she hit her late teens, both modeling jobs and even callbacks for commercial auditions lessened. Her grandfather had his first stroke when she was eighteen, so she’d ditched her plans to move out of Bay Mills, Michigan and head to New York where she’d thought all her dreams would come true.
She didn’t regret not going though. Half the models in places like New York and Los Angeles ended up working as waitresses and barmaids. Staying home, she’d helped her grandfather get healthy, found a job at the local boutique, and built a pretty decent online platform. Between her job, and the money her grandfather made working part time at the casino, they hadn’t done too bad at first.
Unexpected things, like her car breaking down, the roof of their house needing repairs, and a pipe bursting in the basement, threw them from living comfortably to struggling to pay for the barest necessities. Her grandfather wanted to take on more hours, but she was so afraid he’d push himself too hard again. She couldn’t lose him; he was the only family she had left.
An offer of representation from the talent agency, Diverse Faces, came a few days after she turned twenty-one. Like some kind of angel, Sophie stepped in, finding her several high paying photo-shoots, which brought in enough to pay the bills. Danica had to quit her job to keep up with all the traveling, and she hated leaving her grandfather, but he wouldn’t let her stay. He’d been almost as excited as she’d been at her getting back to doing what she loved.
Two years later and Danica had an amazing career. One she was proud of. But Sophie believed Danica could do even more. She wanted to get Danica in front of the ‘right people’.
Backlash (Winter's Wrath #1) Page 3
