by Bargo, Holly
“Don’t worry, man,” Kris said, oozing false sympathy. “I’m sure some groupie will be glad to distract you from your run of bad luck.”
“Then it won’t be bad luck,” Jack shot back with a naughty grin.
“Pigs,” Candace muttered under her breath as the two men bumped fists over the table.
Sonia woke from her nap as the bus pulled into their overnight stop. Kris and Angelo gently teased her as Mick gathered her into his arms and pulled her onto his lap. He held her until she fully wakened.
“So, where are we?” she asked, peering through the bus’ windows and seeing very little.
“I believe it’s called the boondocks,” Jack intoned. “Tomorrow we’ll arrive at our first destination.”
Sonia blinked a few times, then rose. “Am I cooking for just us or will we be joined by the roadies?”
“The roadies went on ahead,” Candace replied. “They’ll be waiting for us in Sacramento. So, it’s just us seven, plus Dennis.”
Sonia nodded and replied, “All right.” She investigated the contents of the bus’ kitchenette.
“Can I help?” Candace asked.
“No, thank you. I’ve got this,” Sonia replied in a breezy tone.
“Best not to get in her way,” Mick warned. “She gets cranky when she cooks.”
“I do not. Now go away.”
The men laughed and left the bus. Candace cast her a puzzled look, then followed them outside onto a vast stretch of asphalt. The glare of lighted signs showed that they had pulled in behind a large outlet mall.
“Where in the hell are we?”
“Somewhere between Las Vegas and Sacramento,” came the flippant reply.
“Shut up, moron.”
“Hey, Jack, did you remember the basketball hoop?”
“You bet,” he replied and fetched the portable hoop from the storage compartment. In a matter of minutes the men had assembled it.
“Catch!”
And an impromptu game began while Dennis took a well-deserved break with a cigar and cold beer. Having driven the band’s domestic tours for the last five years, he was familiar with them and felt comfortable enough to shout occasional words of encouragement and insult.
“Hey, Candace, want to play?” Davis invited, his grin brilliant in his chocolate face.
She glanced down at her tailored blouse, pencil skirt, and sensible pumps. “I’m not really dressed for it, but thanks.”
“Did you bring anything but business clothes?” Angelo asked.
She sighed and said, “I’ve got one pair of sweats and I’ll probably be sleeping in those.”
He smiled at her and said, “Guess I’ll be taking you shopping in Sacramento. You’ll need something you can move around in.”
She shrugged and made some noncommittal comment. In truth, she would fit in better with these guys if she could relax with them. And it would probably have been prudent to have brought a couple pairs of jeans and some sneakers.
The bus’ door opened and Sonia stuck her head out to call, “Supper’s ready.”
“Oh, man, you’re in for a treat,” Jack called to Dennis, who looked up in surprise.
“Dennis, I made plenty for everyone. Please do join us,” Sonia invited the driver.
A little uncomfortably, the driver agreed and settled in a chair next to Davis. Kris reached for a biscuit and Sonia smacked his hand. “First, we say grace,” she admonished. He sighed and bent his head obediently while the others snickered. Sonia recited the simple prayer and then bowls and platters were passed around family-style.
At the first bite of his pork chop, Dennis praised the young woman’s culinary skill.
“I told you,” Davis reminded him.
“You did,” Dennis replied. “This is better than my wife’s pork chops.”
“Don’t tell your wife that,” Mick warned.
“Oh, hell, no. She’d never cook again if I said something like that. She already doesn’t like these long tours. If she hears that I eat better food while I’m gone, she’ll never forgive me.”
“So, Dennis, do you have kids?” Sonia asked.
“Three,” the driver replied, then stuffed a forkful of garlic mashed potatoes in his mouth and groaned with gustatory pleasure. That was so much better than the fast food meal he had expected. “Two sons, one daughter, all grown and on their own.”
“Any grandchildren?”
“Not yet. Caitlin’s getting married next summer, so I expect the babies will come soon after.”
Sonia moderated the conversation, firmly redirecting topics when they veered away from appropriate, supper table conversation. Candace watched her and decided she admired the way the younger woman held court over the band. She also found herself somewhat amazed by how the men deferred to her, showing a gentle consideration she’d not seen in other bands.
After supper, two of the band members rose to clear the dishes and clean. Candace’s jaw fell open as she watched but hardly dared to believe. Sonia eased down on the sofa beside her and said quietly, “They’re not such bad guys, really.”
Candace closed her mouth, embarrassed to have been found gaping. She glanced at Sonia, cheeks red with embarrassment.
“I’ve noticed you’re not really comfortable around men and I won’t pry into why,” Sonia said quietly, gently. “None of these guys will hurt you. They might be rough and occasionally crude, but they’re good people.”
“Am I that obvious?” Candace whispered hoarsely.
“Not right off,” Sonia reassured her. “But I’m not entirely oblivious to the world beyond Mick and my kitchen.”
Candace rubbed her cheeks, then lowered her hands to her lap and twisted them.
“By the way, I think Angelo likes you.”
The tour manager looked up, startled, then glanced at Angelo who was drying dishes and putting them away.
“Yes, that Angelo,” Sonia said with gentle amusement. “You can trust him. He’ll be gentle with you.”
“You’re matchmaking and I don’t appreciate it.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Sonia replied, leaning back. “You and Angelo are my test case. If I succeed with you, I’ll unleash my talents upon an unsuspecting world and become supreme ruler. All shall recognize my superior wisdom and obey me.”
Candace blinked, then laughed the absurdity as Sonia meant her to.
“Stick to cooking,” Candace advised.
“Or maybe I’ll stick to cooking,” Sonia agreed with a smile as Mick stood before her and extended his hand. “And him. I will definitely stick with him.”
Candace just smiled and shook her head and watched the newlyweds retreat to their private room at the back of the bus. A yawn overtook her and she rose from the seat.
“Guys, I’m going to call it night,” she said. She found her suitcase, dug out toiletries, soft, gray sweat pants, and a faded tee shirt, and padded toward the small bathroom. After attending to personal hygiene and changing into something vastly more comfortable, she walked back to the bunks.
“Angelo, which bunk is yours?” she called back.
“Top,” he replied, then grinned naughtily at her and added, “I like being on top.”
Candace held her tongue and crawled into the bottom bunk and pulled the sliding door shut. She did not hear Angelo crawl into the top bunk a few hours later.
He lay there, awake and knowing that sleep would be a while in coming. He absently stroked himself, his imagination picturing Candace on her knees with her rosy lips stretched around him, Candace spread beneath him with her shoulder length hair fanned across the pillow, Candace all fours in front of him as he slammed into her from behind. He stifled a groan as he climaxed in his hand.
This was going to be a long, long tour.
Chapter 15
The bus rolled out early the next morning and the pattern of their days was quickly established. Sonia cooked breakfast, the guys cleaned up afterward. Sonia cooked lunch, the guys cleaned up afterward. Son
ia cooked supper, the guys cleaned up afterward. Between meals, the band members read, conversed, worked on their music, napped, or played card games. When the bus rolled into the concert venues, Sonia cooked for the roadies, too. She quickly learned to rely on Dennis and the roadies to drive her to local grocery stores to replenish the mobile kitchen.
The men who formerly preyed on the horny groupies who liked to congregate around the bus started driving the women away or at least met them elsewhere for one night hookups. She asked Mick about it one evening as they lay snuggled together, legs entwined, bodies still faintly throbbing.
“They know what a treasure you are and don’t want to share your cooking,” he teased her.
Then he slanted his mouth over hers before she could ask another question. She yielded deliciously to him and he sank into her body once more.
“Are you getting paid for this?” Candace asked her one day as she helped Sonia set out platters of grilled sandwiches and bowls of side dishes.
“You know I have no idea,” Sonia answered after a moment’s thought. “Regardless, it’s fantastic experience for me. I’ve had to learn to judge how many customers I’ll have on any given day, determine food sourcing, figuring the most efficient preparation methods, and time management.”
“Well, no one ever said a crock pot was a quick way to make a meal,” the older woman commented, referring to the line of crock pots that simmered in the kitchenette.
Sonia grinned at her. “Good food isn’t necessarily fancy. Sometimes it’s comfort food, something homey and filling. It just takes longer to cook.”
“You’ve got something for pretty much everyone in those crocks: Hungarian, Italian, Greek, and so forth.”
“Trust me, I’ve learned to read this group. They’re happier with old fashioned home cooking than with fancy-schmancy fare.” She laughed softly at herself. “I’ve definitely learned that lesson: know your clientele.”
“Have you heard from Jay about a site for your restaurant?”
“He emailed me a couple of prospective places, but neither of them appealed to me.”
“What about a house?”
“Nothing that Mick and I both like yet, either.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Not particularly. We’ve got plenty of time. Remember, after this tour, we’ll have three more weeks in Vegas, which I am not looking forward to.” She leaned back against the bus, patted the metal side, and sighed. “This old thing is becoming more of a home than the condo.”
“That’s a little disturbing, Sonia.”
“Probably,” Sonia grinned. “But I’m home wherever Mick is.”
“So then you’re definitely going overseas with us?”
“Yes. He leads such an unsettled life. I was scared before that I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. But he makes it easy for me.”
“I think he finds home with you, too, wherever you both are,” Candace observed.
“Thanks, Candace. That’s about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“It’s easy to be nice to you. You’re what my granddad would have called ‘good people.’”
Sonia blushed with pleasure at the compliment. Then she glanced at her watch. It was time. She rang the brass school bell that Kris had picked up for her at a flea market they had passed on their tour. It worked a charm to call everyone in for meals; she didn’t have to shout until her throat hurt. At the sound of the bell clanging, people dropped whatever they were doing and rushed over to the bus where camp tables groaned with their burdens of food.
Less than an hour later, bowls had been scraped clean and platters bore nothing more than crumbs. Sonia and Candace lounged beside the bus reading novels while the menfolk cleaned up.
“Hey, Mick,” Candace called.
“What is it?” he asked, looking up from the table he was wiping down.
“Is Sonia getting paid for being the tour chef?”
“She’d better be,” he replied. “I already clued Jay in on that weeks ago.”
“OK, I just wanted to make sure.”
He nodded and said, “Thanks for looking out for her best interests.”
“That’s my job, Mick, to look out for the band’s best interests.”
He smirked. “Don’t you have a meeting with concert hall management this afternoon?”
She glanced at her cell phone, which started vibrating in her hand. She quieted the alarm and glanced up at him. “Why, yes, I do. I think you know my schedule better than I do.”
“Nah, Angelo mentioned it a few minutes ago.”
Her eyes widened and Sonia smirked.
Candace rose from the chair and smoothed her slacks. She darted into the bus to grab her laptop computer and then hurried off to meet the property management personnel to ensure that everything would run smoothly that evening.
Sonia looked up at the sound of another large vehicle rumbling into the parking lot and frowned.
“Opening act is here,” one of the roadies called out.
“Shit,” Mick cursed when he looked up and recognized the bus.
“Who is it, Mick?”
He looked at her and said, “Jet Fueled.” He looked back at her, his gaze hard and dark. “You remember what I told you about them?”
Sonia nodded and repeated that advice that seemed to have been imparted so long ago: “They’re bad news. Stay away.”
Mick nodded his approval. “That’s my girl. I’ll let the boys know who’s here.”
Jack came jogging up and said, “Hey, man, did you see who just pulled in?”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at Sonia again, who watched the black bus park and its doors open. “I need you guys to keep a watch over Sonia and Candace.”
“Mick, you do know that they’re big girls now.”
“Would you want them at that bitch’s mercy?”
“No, you’re right.” Jack glanced back at Sonia, his gaze softening with affection. “We’ve got to protect our girls.”
“You know, Mick,” Sonia rose from the chair and said, “why don’t I head off to the laundromat? I won’t be near Jet and you won’t have to worry about me.”
He walked to her and wrapped her in his arms. “Baby, I will always worry about you. But that’s a good idea. Jet would never be caught dead in a laundromat.”
He kissed her soundly, then looked up and called one of their most dependable roadies.
“Hey, Gordon, can you keep Sonia company? She’s got some domestic stuff she wants to do and needs a driver.”
“Would that include picking up ingredients for dessert?” the wiry, grizzled man inquired with a grin.
“Yes,” Sonia replied with a laugh. “We’ll head to the laundromat first, so you might want to bring a book or a magazine.”
“Well, get your stuff, girlie and let’s go.”
“Thanks, Gordon.”
“Anything for you, girlie, as long as you keep cooking like you have been. We’ll all do anything you want.”
“I guess the way to a man’s heart really is through his stomach.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
The grizzled roadie helped carry a basket of dirty laundry as he escorted her to his SUV. They loaded the baskets into the back of the vehicle. Sonia waved at Mick, who blew her a kiss.
“Well, ain’t that sweet?” commented a sarcastic voice from behind him.
“Hey, Jet.”
Chewing on a wad of gum, the pale, black-haired singer eyed him and sneered, “How’s domestic bliss, Mick? Bored yet?”
Of all the flippant, snarky replies he could have made, he simply gave her a small smile and said, “Nope.” Then he walked away, arms swinging easily, back loose, stride unhurried.
“It won’t last, you fucker, and you’ll come crawling back to me,” she muttered darkly.
“If it’s a competition between Sonia and you, Jet, there’s no contest,” Jack remarked coming up behind her and hearing her angry words. “She’ll win hands down e
very fucking time.”
With that, he slapped her on the ass and walked away, leaving her fuming with impotent rage.
“Is that whore fucking all of you?” she rasped.
Jack stopped and turned around. “Nah. If we wanted a skanky whore, we’d come to you.”
Never long on self-control, Jet launched herself at him, hands curled into claws. Jack caught her easily and gripped her wrists as she thrashed in his hold and screamed invectives at him.
“Hey, you don’t want to wrestle with that,” Kris commented as he strode past them on his way to the band’s bus. “God knows what loathsome disease you might catch.”
“I’ll kill you!” Jet shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth.
“Oh, now that was truly nasty,” Jack complained as he bent his head down to wipe his cheek on the sleeve covering his upper arm. “Grow up, Jet. Mick doesn’t want you. He hasn’t wanted you for years. Accept it and move on.”
The heavily applied kohl around her eyes streaked and her black lipstick smeared, Jet’s lip lifted in a snarl. Jack looked into the woman’s bloodshot eyes and saw little left of the once talented singer.
“You had potential, Jet,” he said with a touch of regret. “But you let drugs take it all away and now you’re stuck as a third rate singer with a third rate band. I’d feel sorry for you, but you never would listen to reason.”
He released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around herself as though to keep from fly apart. He could see the fine tremors shaking her gaunt body. He shook his head and called out to one of her band, “Hey, get your girl before she falls to pieces.”
One of the musicians, clad in black leather with kohl around his eyes and his lips painted black and his hair dyed black—just like Jet—trotted over in a jingle of steel chains and set a heavily ringed hand on her shoulder.
“We don’t have time for this, Jet. Let’s go and get our sound check done.”
She nodded and meekly accompanied him.
“Bitch has gone off the deep end,” Kris commented when Jack joined him in the bus.
“Yeah. Mick wants us to keep an eye on Sonia and Candace.”
Kris nodded. “Any of them come near our girls, we’ll crush ‘em.”
