by J J Cobban
“Yo?” My head snapped up to see four sets of eyes on me, Travis was frowning “Dude, you’ve been in a world of your own since you answered the phone. You good?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, looking around them.
Lacey shared a look with Jez before looking back to me. I knew that look. They were waiting for me to blow up. Everyone knew I had a temper. I did my damndest to make sure there were no witnesses around when my anger became too much but sometimes it was inevitable. Both Jez and Lacey had witnessed my outbursts. They’d seen me unleashing my fury on a gym punching bag. My fists pounding away at the tough leather as if it was possible for me to sweat or bleed the anger out of my system.
“I’m gonna lie down for a bit.” I shrugged.
“D?” I paused, my back facing the others “You need to talk?”
“Nah, ZZ,” I answered Jez, “I’m good.”
I moved through the bus until I reached the bunks area. I always got one of the top bunks. It’s just the way it worked out. Lacey and Jez hated the tops so Travis and I always bunked up top.
I pulled myself up into the bunk. Laying myself down on a sigh I pulled the bunk curtain closed. Questions were still flying around my head as I lay there.
I wasn’t the only one in the band with a murky past. Travis had lost his parents at a young age and ended up being partially raised by his older sister. Lacey had been disowned by her family when she announced she wanted to join a band. There was Jez with her biker father and addict mother. Hell, even Rissa has a complicated relationship with her family. My alcoholic father and addict mother were nothing really to write home about. What I couldn’t understand was why me?
I didn’t thrive off of the media attention like the others did. Seth loved nothing more than posing for paparazzi. Mikey was usually by his side in the media frenzy. All of us did what we could to connect with fans. Shit, we loved the meet and greets. Meeting the fans that made our dreams possible, they were inspiring. That didn’t mean the idea of a stranger following me around with a camera didn’t bug me. If they were doing that shit to somebody who wasn’t famous, they’d get done for stalking. I didn’t understand how they got away with it.
I rested my hands behind my head, glaring at the ceiling above me.
I knew I needed to get a handle on things. I had to find out who this source was. My mother was dead and the last I’d heard my father was drinking himself into an early grave. I hadn’t spoken to him for ten years and he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me. So that marked him off of the list. I’d never had a steady girlfriend so it wasn’t like I had an ex looking to get back at me. Then there was the matter of that damn journalist getting a hold of my number. My number wasn’t linked to any social media, it wasn’t used for anything online and we never used our own cells for work calls.
My mind came to another blank. I groaned in frustration, pulling at my hair.
“Drake?” A sultry voice asked from behind the curtain. As much as I wanted to answer, I knew she was just looking for answers. She wanted answers that I just didn’t have.
“After the hassle you’ve given me over the last thirty-six hours you’re choosing now to go quiet and brooding?” I could hear the smirk in her voice and felt my own lips tip up “I won’t beg, Jackson, you can open this curtain or I’m ripping it off its line.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing she wouldn’t cross that boundary. I rolled over, facing the wall.
“Fine,” she snapped.
I closed my eyes, waiting to hear her footsteps going back down the bus. I never did though. Instead of footsteps walking away, there was a loud whooshing noise as the curtain was whipped open. I rolled back over incredulously. Scout was standing there, hair falling from her messy bun and nostrils flaring.
“I don’t appreciate being ignored.” She stated boldly, both hands braced on the bottom of my bunk “Are you going to come down and talk to me like an adult or do I haul your ass down?”
I raised a brow at her “Sweetheart, you could always come up to me.”
She moved her arms down and placed both hands on her hips “Oh, trust me, if I’m coming up there it’s only so I can choke you to death.”
I rolled my eyes again, settling back into the bed “I told everyone I was fine. Unlike you females, when I say fine, I mean I’m fine.”
“I’m ignoring that sexist remark and giving you another chance to come down,” she shot back.
“Dude, just do it,” Travis called from the living room “She’s already proved once she’s not taking anyone’s shit.”
“Also.” Lacey added “Let us not forget who raised her. Would you fuck with Ritchie like this?”
My mood fouling, I scooted closer to the edge of the bed. Scout moved back towards the other bunks as I dropped down to the floor. Now that my feet were on the ground, Scout and I were standing toe to toe. As if sensing how close we were Scout cleared her throat and gestured to the bedroom at the back of the bus. She sidestepped away from me before turning and strolling into the bedroom. I glanced back to the living space, checked everyone was minding their own business before following her. I closed the door behind me and crossed my arms. Already feeling defensive.
The only problem was that Scout was standing in exactly the same position I was in. I raised an amused brow at her adorable stance.
I may have been determined to keep my mouth shut but she seemed determined to get me to talk.
One of us was going to have to break.
Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ Ｆｏｕｒ
Ｓｃｏｕｔ
I was not going to break.
Something had pissed of Drake and it was my job to find out what it was. If it pissed of Drake and effected his performance on tour then I needed to sort it out. Whatever he was hiding could impact the entire band and that was bad for business. That was the only reason I cared.
That was what I was telling myself anyway.
Yet as he stood there, arms crossed and scowl in place, I knew it was going to be difficult to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him.
We stood in silence for a moment, both staring and neither willing to bend to the others will.
“I can do this all day,” I stated, moving towards the door and planting myself in front of it “Neither of us are leaving this room until I know what the hell is going on.”
Drake nodded his head and moved towards the bed. He dropped down onto the bed before stretching out. Clasping his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. My eyes drifted to where his already big biceps bulged. My mouth watered for a taste of the tattoo covered skin. My lips parted as my eyes landed to the spot just above the button of his jeans where his shirt had ridden up. Was that the hint of a tattoo I saw?
“We could do something else in this room all day, darlin’, you interested?” his smug voice broke through the heated fog clouding my head.
I looked up to see his devilish smirk aimed right at me.
I shot him a smile back “I don’t fuck liars.”
The smirk fell as quickly as if I’d just kicked him in the balls. He sat up on the bed, his eyes dark and his mouth a hard line.
“I’m not a fucking liar,” he snapped. I swallowed the urge to back myself up to the door. I’d been told that Drake could have a temper. Lacey and Jez had even mentioned that he might need to ‘vent’ soon, I just never expected to be on the receiving end of it. I was near positive he wouldn’t hit me. It was like a gut feeling that told me Drake may be many things but he was most definitely not a woman beater.
“Oh yeah?” I pressed “Because you told everyone you were fine and you are most definitely not fucking fine.”
Drake was on his feet “Why the fuck are you pushing this?”
“It’s my job to push it. Something that bothers you will in turn bother the bands. That effects how you are on stage. So quit trying to be such a fucking guy and tell me so I can help you!” without even realising it my feet had carried me over to where he stood by the bed
“Let me help you.”
There was a long moment where neither of us spoke. The anger seemed to drain from Drake’s face as he took in my stance. I had a funny feeling that when he raised his voice everyone had a tendency to back off and leave him be. Not out of fear of being hurt but simply because nobody wanted to push him towards something he didn’t like discussing. I, however, was not one of those people. I wanted to know what had made him lose his light side so quickly. I wanted to know what I could do to lessen the weight on his shoulders.
I tried to convince myself that I was simply being professional but a small part of me called bullshit.
No matter how hard I tried to deny it, I was attracted to Drake and that meant I cared about him in more than a professional capacity.
“I’m not baring my soul to you, darlin, but I can brief you on the phone call.” He shrugged, his jaw still squared stubbornly.
“Not asking to see your soul, maybe just some of those scars,” I nodded.
Drake ran his tongue over the front of his teeth before dropping down onto the edge of the bed. I moved to sit beside him, making sure to leave some space between our bodies.
“Some magazine journalist called me quizzing me about my family background. They had details that should have been hidden. They managed to get my cell number and according to her she has a source that gave them the information.” He rattled the details off like it was no big deal that his privacy had been invaded on a major scale. I frowned as I tried to absorb what he said. They had a ‘source’ that was able to get them his cell number and information on his family history. That meant that said source must be somebody close. So somebody in his immediate circle had handed over his personal details. I could solve the phone number issue easily.
“The phone is easy. We get you a new number and we only hand it to band members, myself and my father. Then, god forbid, this happens again, we know it’s someone close to home. The source is trickier though.” I pulled my phone out, already organising a new number for Drake. I settled for ordering a whole new phone, just in case there was some sort of link between his number and some of the apps on his phone. I may have been good at my job but I was pretty in the dark when it came to technology. After selecting a phone nearly identical to the one he had slammed down on the table, I used the company account to pay for and then locked my phone down.
“The label will invoice the phone to you once it gets here but it’s easier to bill it to us in case anybody at the other end of the internet puts two and two together about who’s buying the phone. Now, the source.” Drake visibly winced, obviously not keen on discussing that part of his life.
Well tough shit. I wanted answers.
“It may suck, but I need to know about who might be a suspect.” I explained “You mentioned yesterday that you don’t have any family. Were you being literal or are there members you don’t speak to?”
There was a long silence as Drake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Drake?” when he made no move to look at me or explain I reached over, touching his strong, corded forearm gently “I know it might hurt, but I just need family members and an outline of the kind of background you came from. You can trust me.”
His eyes remained fixed on my hand. I didn’t miss how dainty my fingers look compared to his thick arm. I’d never really felt feminine before. I was more tomboy than girly girl, not caring much for fashion or make-up. The only truly girly thing I liked to partake in was getting my nails done. That was it. Nothing fancy. I went to the gym regularly which meant that most of my body was toned. I loved keeping fit but it did mean that I suffered with a lack of curves which then made it hard to feel truly feminine or pretty. As I looked at my long fingers resting against his tan skin I realised two things. The first being that my hand looked almost delicate with my manicured nails and long, dainty fingers. The second being that I really liked the look of my hand on his body.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Guilt seeped into my body, creating a blush across my cheeks. Here I was dreaming about how much I liked touching him and he was debating whether to let me look at the skeletons in his closet.
I was turning out to be a really shitty tour manager.
“People tend to look at me differently when they know my backstory. They try not to let it show but it’s there. The fear.”
“The fear?” I frowned.
“The fear that I turn into my old man,” he looked down at his hands again, a shield going down over his icy, blue eyes “They would never admit it but I see it lurking.”
“Your father, is that who the source was talking about to the magazine?” I asked quietly.
“No. They wanted to know the drug my mother overdosed on.” There was no emotion when he spoke about his mother. No pain, no hurt and no anger. It was like he felt nothing to the woman in question. I thought about how to answer.
“I’d say sorry but it doesn’t sound like you were close.” I shrugged instead. His lips tipped humourlessly at my words.
“My mother had very few maternal moments. She could be a cruel bitch when she was high. She only loved what she could stick in a needle and the old man loved the bottle. Hell, my mother loved anything in a needle, in powder form or in a pill. She wasn’t real fussy.” I nodded, automatically rubbing his arm gently, needing to offer him some kind of support.
“She used to blame me for shit I couldn’t help. If I said I was hungry, if I needed a bath, if something went wrong with the old man. If he hit her, she hit me. If I said anything then they both started wailing on me. It was safer to just, not exist.”
I couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. My father loved me and even on our worst days when I was a mouthy teenager, I couldn’t ever remember him raising his voice. I wasn’t an easy teenager either. He never lost it though. I’d never truly appreciated how lucky I was.
“Drake-” I didn’t know what to say. Words didn’t seem enough.
“I didn’t mean to tell you that much,” he apologised, closing off again “The magazine only got a chance to ask about my mother before I hung up.”
I nodded, sensing his need to let it be.
“So you don’t think any other family members could be behind it?” I cleared my throat, moving away from him slightly. Our moment was over and he didn’t seem the type to be coddled.
“Last time we were home Jo’s folks told us he wasn’t looking too hot. I’d be surprised if he was still kicking about.” He ran both hands over his face, looking emotionally exhausted.
“So Jo’s parents know about your history?” I pulled my phone out opening up a notepad app “Would they tell anyone?”
“No way.” Drake shook his head “I started hanging out with Jo when I was fourteen. Once her parents knew what was going on at home, they took me in. Stopped me going into the system. They wouldn’t do this.”
I wanted to send a thank you card to Jo’s parents. Just thinking about a mini-Drake being beaten and abused made me sick to my stomach.
“The problem is that people talk. If your father is the town drunk and your mother was known for being hooked on drugs. Nearly anybody that lives near you or went to school with you is going to know. That means the source could be anyone. It doesn’t explain how they got your number though. Hopefully now that we’ve ordered you a completely new phone there should be no more calls. I’ll tell my Dad and get him to look into it. Maybe he has some of his own sources.”
Drake looked at me in awe.
“You’re amazing,” he grinned “Just like that, you’ve fixed it.”
I blushed and tried to brush off the compliment “It’s what I’m paid to do.”
Drake reached over, taking my hand in his. His large calloused hand seemed to swallow my own. He squeezed it gently.
“Thank you.” He nodded once before standing, pulling me to my feet.
“Wasn’t so hard was it?” I teased, feeling uncomfortable in the quiet of the room. I needed to fill the silence. Stop
any awkwardness that might seep in.
Drake rolled his eyes “You’re a real ball-buster, you know that?”
I lifted a shoulder nonchalantly, grinning as I did so.
“You’ve met my Dad right? Would you seriously expect anything less?” I asked, turning towards the door. Drake laughed and followed closely behind.
“I bet you were hell on steroids when you were growing up.” I snorted at his very accurate assumption “No wonder he’s already going grey.”
Three sets of eyes looked in our direction as we moved further down the bus. It wasn’t until we perched ourselves on the same sofa as Jez that Travis pounced on us. He ran a hand through his curly hair, pushing it out of his face as a shit eating grin over took his handsome features.
“Well? Did you sort it out? Is the big guy all rainbows and sunshine?” he teased, reaching his leg out to knock Drake in the knee lightly. Drake rolled his eyes and swatted Travis’ foot away.
“Damn right I sorted it out. I’m a professional.”
“Yes!” Travis yelled, jumping to his feet “Cough up!”
I frowned as he held his hand up. Lacey groaned and slapped a note into his hand while Jez did the same. It was then that I understood what had happened. They had been betting on whether I would get a handle on Drake’s situation. It was unbelievable but seeing as I would have probably been involved if it had been one of them talking to Drake, I couldn’t be mad. I narrowed my eyes at Travis, trying not to smile.
“You bunch of assholes.” Drake grunted, then he looked around me to Jez “I can’t believe you bet against me, kid, that’s just low.”
Jez could sense his hidden teasing and just shrugged “Hey, sometimes getting you to open up is like getting blood from a stone!”
We all fell into easy jesting as Lacey moved to change the game they were playing. She pulled out a large black CD case that looked like it could hold well over thirty discs. After flicking through the first couple of discs she sighed and handed it over to Jez, who then handed it straight to me. I looked down at it like it could have sprouted teeth and bitten me.
