by Lauren Rowe
“Holy shitake mushrooms!” Keane shouts. “Do you mean to tell me you’re not planning to have sex with anyone during the entire tour?”
“I gotta figure out what the hell I did wrong with Daphne so I won’t do it again. Because this ‘getting dumped’ shit is painful, man.”
“Then numb the pain with meaningless fuckery, for fuck’s sake,” Colin says, swigging the whiskey.
“Nope. I’m gonna use the next three months as a detox from the foxes and figure my shit out. It’ll be a three-month de-foxification.”
“I call bullshit,” Colin says. “There’s no way you’ll last three months as a monk, Z. Put Aloha aside. Won’t there be hot backup dancers on this tour?”
“Dude, how the hell could I possibly make a move on a hot dancer, even if I wanted to? I’m gonna be stuck like glue to Aloha twenty-four seven.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Colin says. “Okay, then, we’re back to square one: you’re definitely gonna fuck Aloha. I’d bet any amount of money on it.”
“I’m in for a hundred,” Dax says.
“Me, too,” Fish says from the floor.
“Same,” Colin says.
“Uh-oh, Z,” Daxy says. “Looks like you’re the only one who’s saying ‘nay’ here.” He thwacks my shoulder. “Come on. Throw a Benjamin into the pot that says you won’t fuck her so we can get an actual bet going.”
“Fuck off. I’m not gonna bet on that.”
“Why not? If you don’t fuck her like you keep insisting you won’t, you’ll win the entire pot at the end of the tour.”
“He won’t bet because he knows he’ll lose,” Fish says.
“No, I won’t bet because it’s a disrespectful, douchey-ass bet.”
“Disrespectful to who?” Fish says.
“To Aloha. To womankind.”
“Z’s actually right about that,” Keane says. “Momma Lou would smack the shit out of us if she found out we bet on something this douchey. And if the momatron didn’t smack us, then Mad Dog most certainly would.”
Dax grimaces. “Well, damn, you know you’ve unwittingly teetered into douchebag territory if Keane ‘the Peen’ Morgan feels the need to be the voice of feminism in a conversation with you.” Dax rustles his big brother’s already tousled hair. “Nice work, Peenie Baby. Tell Maddy she’s doing God’s work with ya.” He addresses the room. “Okay, how’s this for a less douchey bet? A hundred bucks says Z will fall deeply and madly in love with Aloha before the end of the tour. That’s not douchey because, technically, Z could fall for Aloha without so much as a kiss.”
I bring the whiskey bottle to my lips again, too annoyed to speak, but Keane declares the newly proposed bet sufficiently G-rated and feminist-approved. Of course, Colin and Fish chime in to say they want in on the new wager, with both of them predicting I’ll wind up hurling my “tender heart” at Aloha “with both hands” at some point during the tour.
“All of you think I’ll fall madly in love with Aloha?” I ask incredulously. “Nobody wants to put money on my heart standing firm?”
Everyone looks around for a beat and then bursts out laughing.
“Not even you, Peenie? Et tu, Brute?”
“Sorry, Zanzibar. I’ve known you since eighth grade, man. I’ve got zero doubts you’re gonna fall for Peenie with a pussy.”
I scoff. “Fuck all of you, Peenie included. I’ll bet my Benjamin and take the entire pot three months from now. Count on it.”
Chuckling, Keane leans back and spreads his muscular thighs, assuming his classic “I’m so fucking stoned” pose. “Hey, dudes. Since we all know Z’s totally full of shit and will most definitely fall for the pop star before the tour is done, I vote we narrow the wagering to whether he’ll fall during month one, two, or three.”
Chapter 4
Zander
Dax looks down at his phone after tallying the final bets. “Okay, here’s where things stand, fellas: Keane, Fish, Colin, Ryan, and Kat say Z will fall for Aloha during month one. Colby, Lydia, Tessa, and me say he’ll be a goner during month two. And Josh, the lone wolf, says Z will hang tough until month three.”
I shake my head. “You’re a sick fuck to solicit bets from your entire family, Dax Morgan.”
“It was no big deal,” he says. “I just mentioned the bet in our family group chat. You should be happy I got everyone in on this, Z. If you miraculously pull this off like you keep insisting you will, you’ll win an even bigger pot this way.” Dax’s phone buzzes and he looks down. “Ho! Momma Lou just put a Benjamin on month three.”
“You told your mother about the bet?” I blurt.
“She’s in the group chat. And it’s a G-rated bet, right? As far as she knows, it’s a bet about rainbows and unicorns, not pussies.”
I grumble.
“Aw, quit your bitchin’, Z. Momma Lou’s C-note is as good as anyone’s. You’re just pissed even Louise Morgan knows you don’t stand a chance at not falling for Aloha.”
Keane pats my arm. “Don’t be fooled by our mother’s sweet smile, Z. She’s a savage underneath that blonde bob. Where do you think Kat got her blonde savagery? Although I must confess I thought the momatron would be a whole lot smarter than betting on month three.”
“Right?” Dax says, laughing. “Rookie mistake.”
Keane’s phone buzzes and he looks down. “Ho! Add another three hundy to the pot, Rock Star. Maddy and Hannah each bet a C-note on month two. Henn’s in for month three.”
“Oh, for the love of fuck,” I mutter, palming my forehead.
“Hey, bee tee dubs, bro,” Keane says, addressing Dax. “Can we talk about the fucked-up fact that I had to text Maddy about the bet separately because she’s not part of the family group chat? It should be clear to everyone by now I’m in it to win it with this girl. I say we start giving Maddy a behind the scenes peek at how the family sausage gets made, just so she doesn’t get a wicked case of the bends when she’s officially brought into the fold.”
“Fine by me,” Dax says. He taps something onto his phone and smiles at his stoned-as-fuck big brother. “Careful what you wish for, Peen Star. Hopefully, seeing how the family sausage gets made doesn’t make Maddy run for the hills.”
Keane’s dopey face lights up. “You seriously added her?”
“Yup. She’s in. Godspeed, Maddy Milliken.” Laughing, he looks down at his phone. “Okay. Now that all bets are in, Z is chasing fourteen hundred bucks if he can somehow go completely against character and not fall head over heels in love with a gorgeous, talented pop star with a hot body and the personality of his beloved best friend since age thirteen.” Dax snorts. “Sounds easy enough, Z. What could go wrong?”
I flip him off.
“Actually, you know what?” Keane says. “You should yank my C-note outta the pot. I should probably judge the contest instead of betting on it. Even if Z says he’s not in love with the pop star—even if he swears it and honestly believes it himself—I’m the only one who’ll be able to look into Z’s eyes and know if he’s speaking the objective truth.”
“Excellent idea.” Dax looks at me. “You hear that, Z? Peenie’s word is law when it comes to whether you’ve fallen for Aloha. If you make it to the end of the three months without Keane declaring your undying love for her, then you’ll win the whole pot. But if, at any time, Peenie determines you’ve fallen for her, then the winnings will be divided accordingly.” He turns to his big brother. “Raise your right hand, Peen Star. I’m gonna swear you into the bench.”
“Oh, this is exciting.” Keane raises his palm, his dimples popping. “I wish the motherboard were here to see this. She’d be so proud.”
Everyone laughs.
“Keane Elijah ‘Ball Peen Hammer Peenie Weenie Fucking Peen’ Morgan,” Dax says. “Do you solemnly swear to administer your judicial duties diligently, honestly, and without fucking it up at all times?”
Keane nods solemnly. “I will certainly do my best, little brother.”
“That’s a
ll anyone can ask.” Holding the neck of his beer bottle, Dax air-blesses Keane. “You’re hereby sworn in, Judge Peen. Make our momma proud.”
Keane bursts into singing the chorus of “The Judge” by Twenty One Pilots—specifically, the part of the song that requires him to sing the word “free” in a full, balls-out falsetto, and everyone laughs.
Keane bats my thigh. “Hey, sweet meat. Do you think you could get me two tix for Aloha’s show on Thursday night? Maddy sings Aloha Carmichael songs in the shower all the time and I happen to know she never missed an episode of It’s Aloha! growing up.”
“No problem,” I say. “Reed said I can get tix for friends and family for any show, including passes to the VIP meet and greet.”
“Oooh, count me in,” Fish says from the floor. “After watching so many Aloha Carmichael music videos tonight, I think I might be a wee bit obsessed with her now.”
“If you want a ticket, just ask Reed,” Dax says to Fish. “We’re signed to the same label as Aloha, remember?”
“I’m not asking Reed for shit,” Fish says. “That guy hates me. You ask him for me. Reed loves you, golden boy.”
Dax rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny the truth of Fish’s statement. “I’ll ask Reed for tickets for all of us. It might be fun to watch Z do his bodyguard thing for the first time.”
A female shriek of joy wafts out of Keane’s phone, drawing everyone’s attention.
Keane laughs. “Yes, I know. That’s why I asked Z for the tix.” He grins and his dimples pop. “I love you, too. The absolute most.”
My heart melts. Of course, I’ve known for months Keane loves Maddy. He’s told me so himself. But with me living in Seattle these past three months, I’ve never actually witnessed Keane saying the magic words to Maddy. And I must say, hearing him say them to her—and to witness him looking so happy and certain when he says them... man, it’s pretty dope.
Keane ends his call with Maddy and smiles broadly at me. “Maddy said to tell you thank you and that we’ll name our first born Zander or Zanderina to repay you.”
I chuckle. “You two are already planning kids, are you?”
“Apparently,” Keane says, his face aglow.
“Where is Maddy tonight, by the way?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s with her sister, shooting a promo video for one of Hannah’s clients... I think. Actually, I don’t remember what the Milliken sisters are up to tonight. Dude, I’m a jellyfish right now. I can’t be expected to remember my own name, let alone the whereabouts of my smarter half.”
“Is Maddy gonna be pissed when she comes home and finds out you’ve turned yourself into a jellyfish for the first time since moving to LA?” Dax asks.
“Naw,” Keane says. “She’ll understand tonight is a last hurrah. Plus, it’s not like Maddy gave me an ultimatum about smoking out. She just gently suggested it might be a good idea for me to lay off the green stuff a bit while I’m trying to get my so-called ‘acting career’ off the ground. And my smart-girl was right as rain, by the way. Turns out I get shit done when I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I look down. “Breaking news, fellas. The pop star—or, as she’s just referred to herself, my new ‘boss’—sent me a text to welcome me to her team.” I read the short text to everyone and we all snicker.
“Kind of low key aggressive for a twenty-three-year-old to refer to herself as your ‘boss,’ doncha think?” Keane says.
“Barry warned me she’d probably screw with me a bit outta the gate. You know, just because I’m a newbie.”
I send a brief reply to Aloha and receive a lengthy, eye-roll-inducing text in reply, which, of course, I read aloud to the guys.
“Sounds like she’s trying to get you to quit,” Dax says.
“She probably thinks, if she can get rid of me, Barry will take my place. The good news is I’ve got Barry’s unfettered permission to take exactly zero shit from her.” A huge smile splits my face as I begin tapping out another text. “Oh, Aloha Carmichael. Let the games begin.”
Chapter 5
Aloha
My tour manager, Crystal, and my longtime backup dancer, Kiera, are screaming with laughter as I stand before them in my hotel suite doing a spot-on imitation of our choreographer. The three of us—Crystal, Kiera, and, I—are having a “girls night in” martini party following a long-ass day of rehearsals.
“So, what did Big Barry say to you when he came by today?” Kiera asks as I flop back onto the couch and pick up my martini glass.
“He said he’s not coming on the tour, but, never fear, he’s hired two guys to take his place—a service doggie and a cyborg.”
I tell the girls about today’s conversation with Barry, including the stupid wager I made with him that I’m surely not going to win—the one about me getting Zander to quit—and my friends laugh and make funny comments until all three of our glasses are drained and Crystal is getting up to refill them.
“Have you texted your new service doggie yet to say ‘sit, stay, quit?” Crystal asks as she pours the booze.
“No, but there’s no time like the present.” I grab my phone off the coffee table, tap out a quick text, and read it aloud to my friends. “‘Hi, Zander. This is AC, your new boss. I just wanted to say welcome to my tour.’” I look up. “I gotta figure a big, strong, muscular alpha dude like Zander will bristle at a twenty-three-year-old woman calling herself his ‘boss’ out of the gate.”
“You know for a fact your new service doggie is a big, strong, muscular alpha?” Crystal asks. She’s back in the sitting area now, handing Kiera and me our refilled glasses. “You’ve seen a photo of him?”
“No, but aren’t all bodyguards big, strong, muscular alphas?”
“Kevin Costner wasn’t,” Kiera notes. “He had an alpha personality, I guess, but he looked more like an accountant than a bodyguard. And remember that documentary you made us watch that time? The one about those secret service guys? Most of them looked far more like Kevin Costner than Dwayne Johnson.”
“Hmm,” I say, just as my phone pings with an incoming text. I look down and smile. “My service doggie says, ‘Hi, AC. I’m looking forward to working with you.” I look up at my friends. “With you, I notice—not for you. Could that be his subtle push-back on the boss thing, perhaps?” I snicker. “Looks like it’s time to get the service doggie to roll over and play dead.” I tap out another text, press send, and then read my masterpiece to my friends. “‘Hey, Z, I should probably warn you: I’m a huge click-bait target, especially when it comes to gossip about my love life. Given that I’ve never had a personal bodyguard besides Barry, and you’re only a year older than me, I’m guessing the gossip sites are going to be all over us like white on rice. We’ll probably get stalked by paparazzi hoping to catch me doing something highly un-Disney-like with you. Being stalked by paps would be a normal Tuesday for me, but it might be highly stressful for a newbie like you, especially if they post crazy stuff like, ‘Aloha makes her new bodyguard her sex slave!’ So, I’d totally understand if you want to bow out of this shit show before it starts. God help you if you have a girlfriend back home who might believe everything she reads. Or if you were hoping to hook up with someone during the long, lonely months on the road—a backup dancer, perhaps?—and now the gossip sites are going to make that almost impossible for you, just because everyone on my tour, dancers included, will stay the hell away from you, just in case the gossip sites have guessed right about us. (Which won’t be the case, of course.) Don’t worry, I’m sure Barry will happily reassign you to another tour, like maybe one with a male artist where the paps would leave you alone and the groupies would be plentiful? I truly think it’d be for the best. Take care, AC.’” I look up from my phone, my eyebrows raised. “Well? Do you think he’ll take the bait?”
Crystal snorts. “Not a chance.”
Kiera agrees.
Two seconds later, my phone buzzes and I look down. “You guys are right. He’s
not going anywhere. He wrote, ‘I have no problem with anyone thinking I’m sleeping with you, AC. I’m single, straight, and you’re a beautiful woman. Also, if you’re regularly stalked by paparazzi, then that’s all the more reason for me to stay on the job and protect you to the best of my ability. See you Thursday, Miss Carmichael. Or I suppose I should say... boss. PS I have zero interest in hooking up with anyone on this tour. I’m here to serve and protect you and nothing else. You’re now officially my mission from God.’” I look up from my phone, my cheeks flushed. “Whoa. That was kinda hot.”
“Smokin’ hot,” Crystal says. “Simple, straightforward, and take-charge. Dude, this boy’s a stone-cold alpha.”
“I gotta see him,” Kiera says. “What’s his last name so we can look him up?”
“Shoot, I don’t know. And I can’t ask Barry or he’ll know I’m up to no good.”
“Then cut out the middle man and ask Zander for a recent photo,” Crystal says.
“Wouldn’t that come off like I’m flirting? If the goal is to make Zander quit, then flirting with him would be the opposite thing I should do.”
“Just ask him for a photo in a really bitchy way. Tell him you want to be sure he’s ‘hot enough’ to be seen walking alongside a ‘huge star’ like you.”
“Oh!” Kiera says. “And when he sends the photo, no matter how gorgeous he is, tell him he’s simply not hot enough to be seen with a big star like you. With any luck, he’ll think you’re a narcissistic bitch-nightmare and quit. The chances are low, but it’s worth a try.”
“Actually,” I say, tapping out a text, “I think I’ve got an even better idea.”
Chapter 6
Aloha
Hey, Z, would you mind sending me a selfie? I’d like to know what I’m in for with the paparazzi and gossip sites. If they think you look like “my type,” whatever that means, God only knows how relentlessly they’ll hound us for that elusive “scandalous” shot. You SURE you want to be a part of my Godforsaken life? Save yourself, Zander!
