by Amelia Mae
“Immediately,” Christian answers, “She’s going on tour with you.”
Four weeks trapped on a bus with my bandmates is usually about fifty percent awesome and fifty percent hell.
Four weeks on tour with Cora in my bed sounds amazing, though. Even if we have to pretend we’re not together in public.
Dylan looks over at me. “You okay with this, man?” he asks.
I don’t know what to say.
“I mean,” I swallow, “I want what’s best for the band.”
14
Cora
“So I got a call from Christian Fuller today,” I tell Ian when he arrives outside of the Caspiar club to meet me after my shift.
“Oh,” he replies, not surprised.
“He wants me to…”
“Pretend to be Dylan’s girlfriend,” he interrupts, “We had a meeting about it.”
“You had a whole meeting about me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m flattered,” I say, flatly.
“How do you feel about it?”
“Not sure,” I answer. “It’s a lot. I mean… it pays. More than I make at the club. And I definitely need the cash.”
“So you’re going to say yes?”
“It’s weird. I don’t know.”
“I think you should do it,” he says.
“Pretend to be someone else’s girlfriend?” I start, then catch myself. “Not that I’m your girlfriend,” I backtrack, “I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” he says with a reassuring smile.
“Okay.”
“Touring can be a lot of fun. And it’s only four weeks.”
“True,” I tell him.
He gets a hopeful look in his eyes. “It’ll be good for your career,” he wagers, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Plus, we’ll be able to hang out. And not at three in the morning.”
“Hmm.” I think about it.
Four weeks with Ian does sound pretty great. Even if I have to pretend to be dating his bandmate. And call me crazy, but the sneaking around part sounds sexy and fun. Like a dirty secret.
“Still thinking?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I mean, I would get to live out my rock and roll fantasy.”
“By week two on a bus with a bunch of guys arguing about who left the mess in the microwave, the glamour tends to fade,” he quips.
“Hey, I thought you were trying to see me on going.”
He laughs.
He has a great laugh. Deep. And sweet.
“So you are coming?” he asks. He seems excited. His whole face is lit up.
I take a deep breath and gather my words. I hate to disappoint him.
“I mean… I’m sorry Ian,” I start, “But I’d be missing too many opportunities here. I’ve already gotten a few calls for commercials and another video. I know I owe it all to you guys…”
“You don’t owe us anything,” he confirms.
“My career is just starting. My agent said I’m a hot commodity right now. That video is everywhere. I even got recognized at the club. I might even get some legit acting work soon.
“And, look, after everything that happened with Evan, I promised myself I’d never let a guy get in the way of my goals ever again.”
“I understand,” he says.
I know he does understand. Really.
But it kills me to watch him fake a smile.
“Plus there would be a so many details to work out. I’d have to get Dan to let me take the time off work. I would need to get my money back for the acting class I just signed up for. And there’s… you know… where would I be sleeping? They can’t expect me to share a bed with Dylan…” I ramble. I tend to do that when I’m overcompensating.
“You don’t have to explain, Cora. I’d probably do the same thing if I were you.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “It’s just… what we have here is something special. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. I can’t stop thinking about the other night.”
I feel warm. “Me neither.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I was when I woke up and my sheets smelled like you.”
God, why’d he have to go and say something like that.
“I want to see where this goes,” he says, “Tell me it’s not one-sided.”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been replaying that whole night in my head over and over. I dropped a whole tray of glasses, I was so distracted thinking about it. I thought Dan was going to fire me right there.”
He chuckles.
I get serious. “It’s not like you’re never coming back.”
He nods. “I know. But… let me take one final shot at getting you to come on tour and if you say no, I’ll drop it forever. I promise,” he says.
I look up into his deep brown eyes.
See the hopeful puppy look on his face.
Fuck. I’m going to have a lot of trouble saying no to him.
“I can get you more money,” he starts.
“It’s not about the money…”
“And I can make sure that you are available for auditions in the major cities we hit along the way,” he adds, “We’re playing in Vegas. And Chicago. And New York.”
Hmm…
“And there is such a thing as an airplane. We can fly you back to LA for anything that you absolutely can’t miss.”
I think about it. That sounds manageable.
“Plus,” he continues, “You and I will get a lot of time together. We stay in hotels along the way. And the bus has a private bedroom and a door that locks and I plan on making good use of it.”
I smirk. “Won’t the guys hear us?”
“They should be so lucky.”
Ian’s definitely given me something to think about. If he can guarantee that I won’t miss out on any important acting opportunities, this might work. It’ll be great publicity. And even though Ian made it clear that I don’t owe the band anything, I’d like to be able to do them this favor.
“You okay there?” he asks.
I guess I’ve been quiet for awhile.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Something good?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I take a deep breath. This part is difficult to say. But it’s necessary.
“I just… Ian… in the interest of… Oh, crap,” I stumble, “This isn’t easy. I just… I’m starting my whole life over right now. Like, I’m in the middle of a major do-over. And I like you.”
“Like me? Or like me like me,” he asks, being cheeky.
I want to laugh with him, but I have to just push this out and hope he doesn’t hate me. “I don’t want to invest too much of myself too fast. This is a crazy situation. Lots of secrets and sneaking. Lots of opportunities to get jealous. I don’t want either of us to get hurt.”
“I’d never hurt you,” he says, resolutely.
“You won’t mean to,” I start, “But I got jealous watching you hang out with those groupies the other night. And when you told me about those girls in Paris, I almost walked out the door.”
He nods.
“So I think that we should keep our relationship casual. Like friends.”
“No sex?” he asks.
“God no,” I reply a little too quickly.
“Friends with benefits?” he offers.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Something like that.”
He thinks about it. “Can I make one adjustment?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“Exclusive friends with benefits,” he says, “The thought of you with anyone else makes me insane too.”
“Okay,” I tell him. I like that. “I’m going on tour with a rock band, a fake boyfriend, and an exclusive friend with benefits. Sounds complicated when you say it like that, doesn’t it?”
“That it does,” he confirms, “But I’m not afraid of complicated.”
“Good,” I say, “Me neither.”
“So you�
��re saying yes?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Well, in that case, I want to do something I won’t be able to do in public for awhile,” he says.
I’m skeptical. “Are you sure? I’ve got a pretty good idea of how your mind works.”
He chuckles and takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.
Holding hands.
Like high-schoolers.
I smirk.
“What did you think I was going to do?” he asks, with a mischievous half-smile.
We keep walking.
“I have a confession to make,” Ian says sheepishly, “Those girls? In Paris?”
I look at him, worried.
Shit. This is where he tells me that he got a girl pregnant or has super-herpes or something.
“Didn’t happen to me,” he tells me, “That crazy four-way… that was Jack.”
I burst out laughing. Ian smiles, though his face is turning beet red. It makes me want to squeeze him tight and never let him go.
“Dork.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling.
“You gotta stop that shit, Ian,” Christian, who had been watching practice, barks. God, Christian’s a force to be reckoned with. Shrewd with a permanent scowl on his face.
Ian shrugs, feigning innocence. “Stop what shit?”
“You have to practice not eye-fucking Dylan’s girlfriend. We want to cultivate an image here. And that image isn’t bandmate drama,” he carries on. His glowering shifts over to me. “And you…”
“What about me? I ask.
“Smile more. Swoon over your boyfriend’s sexy voice. You’re an actress, right?”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply. I don’t know why I called him Sir. I guess I’m intimidated.
“Where did you train again?” he asks.
“Um… couple classes in the valley. And I did a play about…”
“So nowhere,” he groans, “Shit, I thought I was dealing with a professional here.”
I’m mortified. I mean, wasn’t the video gig professional enough?
“Then… I don’t know, practice for when you’re in front of the paparazzi. We’re not paying you just to look hot and drink beer.” He gives me a once-over. “Actually, lay off the beer. The camera adds ten pounds.”
I immediately put the beer down. I wish I weren’t susceptible to this kind of criticism, but I think as women it’s hardwired in our DNA to take nasty comments from nasty men about our bodies to heart.
“Do you have to be such a dick, Christian?” Ian spits out.
“You’re in no position to challenge me, Brooks,” he retorts, “You need me more than I need you. Both of you.”
Fuck, he’s a dick.
And not completely wrong.
I should chime in and defend myself, but I’m too stunned.
Ian is livid. “You comment on her body again and I’ll…”
“What?” Christian seethes. “What? You can’t do anything. Try and I’ll replace her with another girl in a hot second.”
And with that, he heads out, slamming the door behind him.
“I’m sorry about him,” Ian says sympathetically.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to fall apart about it,” I say, trying to convince myself more than anything. “Plus, he’s right. You could get somebody hotter.”
“No,” Dylan adds, “He’s just an asshole.”
Jack chimes in, “He pulls that shit just to remind us who's in charge. We’ve all stood downwind of Christian’s temper tantrums. They happen whenever he’s on the outs with his girlfriend. Or his wife. Don’t take it personally.”
Ian whispers to me, “We’ll never get anybody better.”
I feel relieved. “Well, at least somebody more used to the attention and scrutiny.”
“You’re tough,” he reminds me, “You can handle it. Besides, we leave tomorrow for the tour and Christian stays here.”
That’s good.
Ian smiles. “It means a lot to me that you’re sticking around.”
We all get up ungodly early in the morning to board the tour bus. It’s rather spacious for a bus. There is a small area with sofas and a television, a kitchenette, a bathroom, six bunks with privacy curtains, and a private bedroom in the back that the guys take turns staying in.
I take one of the top bunks, hurling a backpack and my purse onto the small bed.
“You can take the bedroom,” Dylan says to me. “You’re doing us a favor and this whole thing can’t be easy for you. Least we can do is give you some space. Living with four guys gets old pretty quickly.”
“It’s okay,” I reply coolly, “I’m good up here.”
“Really,” Ian adds, “We don’t mind.”
“Neither do I. Always wanted the top bunk as a kid,” I joke.
“Cora, you’re an only child,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, calling me on my bullshit.
“Still…”
I know that I sound distant. Hesitant. Cold.
Christian’s comments still ring in my ears. I have to get over it, I know. The guys want me here. I want to be here. I deserve to be here. I won the part in that video and I’m the best choice for the role. I know this.
But, at the moment, all I hear is the negative. Like, even though fans overwhelmingly loved the video, there were still a few dozen negative comments from faceless internet trolls.
Then again, as an actress, I’m going to be dealing with this kind of thing throughout my career, right? Right. I can’t let one man with his big mouth get to me.
I take a deep breath and plaster on a smile, hoping I don’t look too phony. This is a tour with a rock band, after all. It should be fun.
“We’re going to get some food and a couple beers and watch a movie out here,” Ian says.
“This early?” I ask. I check my phone. It’s barely 7am.
“Yeah, we have one to celebrate the beginning of the tour, no matter how early in the morning. Kind of a tradition.”
I smile. That sounds fun. “Okay. There’s a special place in my heart for day drinking,” I tell them and climb down from the bunk. Ian reaches up to help me, his arm on the small of my back, guiding me to the ground. We sit on the loveseat, his arm still around me in that she’s with me kind of way.
I like it.
Dylan passes out beers and joins us in the living room area, sitting across form me and Ian. Jack lounges next to him, throwing his feet up on the sofa, only to have Dylan push them off. Shawn gets to work on some famous culinary concoction that he calls “taco surprise,” which sounds iffy, but the guys assure me is delicious.
“So, Cora,” Dylan asks, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Huh?”
“I figure I should probably get to know my girlfriend, right? So I don’t say anything stupid in front of someone who might call me on it,” he explains.
“Smart. I guess,” Ian says, his grip on me tightening, “Especially coming from a man who’s never been with the same woman twice.”
Dylan flips him off. I decide to diffuse the tension and answer the question.
“Red,” I tell him. “You?”
“Blue,” he answers. “Favorite food?”
“Chocolate covered almonds,” I answer. “Chocolate anything really. And yours?”
“Pizza,” he says, “I grew up in New York. We’re very snobby about pizza.”
“Oh, yeah, he goes full-on ninja turtle when we hit the east coast,” Jack adds.
“Why are favorite color and food everyone’s go-to questions?” I muse, the alcohol hitting me. Wow, I drank that fast.
“No idea,” Dylan answers, “But I had to start somewhere.”
I finish my beer and he hands me another.
“Okay,” he says, “Better question. When did you decide you wanted to be an actress?”
I know that answer right away. “My freshman year of high school. My friends dared me to try out for the spring musical and I got cast. I was the only freshman girl to
get a part. It was just in the chorus, but I loved it,” I reminisce, “I loved the energy and the way I just got swept up in the fantasy. I’ve been hooked ever since.”
“I get that,” Dylan says, “I think we all got that feeling at some point. It’s why we’re here.”
“Definitely,” Ian chimes in, “First time I played with a band, I knew this was what I wanted to do.”
“Wasn’t your first band a high school marching band?” Dylan teases.
“Still counts,” Ian replies, slightly defensive.
“Hey, I just admitted to being a musical theater nerd. We can dork out together,” I say.
That makes him relax and pull me just a little bit closer.
“I’m glad you’re here, Cora,” Jack adds, “That little comment would’ve turned into an hour-long pissing match if you weren’t here to keep The Brooding One happy.”
I raise my eyebrow at the nickname.
“Love you guys too,” Ian says.
I decide to change the subject. “I have a question,” I say to Dylan, “It’s a little personal, but isn’t the fake girlfriend thing going to… I don’t know… cramp your style. I mean, we’re not sleeping together. But you can’t very well get caught with someone else…”
Ian smirks. Jack and Shawn start cackling.
Dylan half smiles and narrows his eyes. “This little publicity stunt happens to coincide with a… piercing.”
The guys practically howl with laughter. Dylan indicates his crotch.
“Oh, wow,” I say, blushing. “Didn’t that hurt?”
“Not as much as four weeks on tour with no sex is going to,” Ian says, “And two after that.”
“It’ll be good for him,” Jack says, “Maybe it’ll make him smarter. Like those celibate monks or some shit.”
Before anyone can talk about Dylan’s cock piercing anymore, Shawn announces that his taco surprise is done and places a huge place of food on the table. The guys dig in.
I try a bite, very skeptical as the dish looks like someone vomited up nachos, but holy hell…
“This is delicious,” I tell him.
Shawn takes a bow.
As we eat, and down a few more beers, the guys continue to shoot the shit. They give Dylan a hard time about his piercing and pick on Ian for being shy and kind of a dork.
