Roger stumbles up to the table first, and I notice that he must have taken a shower too, because his messy hair still looks damp. Jared gracefully pulls a chair up to my right and takes a seat, lacing his fingers together on top of the table. The waitress returns, placing my food and Matt’s down and grabs Roger’s and Jared’s drink orders. I’m having just plain oatmeal with some fresh berries and maple syrup with a tall glass of orange juice. I didn’t want or need anything too heavy in my stomach just yet. Matt ordered a farmer’s omelet and toast. He starts cutting his omelet up, and I start mixing my berries into my oatmeal when I see Roger taking a napkin and wiping the back of his neck with it.
“What are you doing?” I look over to him. He stops and tosses the napkin down on the table. He leans back in his chair, gesturing with his thumb over to Jared.
“This little prissy bitch here decided to use all of the hot water up. Which I think is fucking funny because we’re in a goddamn hotel. But he still manages to find some way to.” Roger starts shaking his head and continues. “So I pretty much just washed my ’nads and pits then I was outta there.” Jared starts smirking at him. “I’m hitting the fucking buffet.” Roger pulls out his chair and heads toward the buffet. Jared glances at the menu then gets up to follow Roger.
I take a bite of my oatmeal and it’s delicious. When the warm, gooey goodness hits my stomach, I instantly start feeling a little better. Looking over at Matt’s plate, I can see that he’s already halfway done eating his breakfast.
“Geez Matt.” I start laughing. “You seem like you’re starving or something. How can you eat that fast? Especially after drinking?” I pick up my orange juice and take a sip.
“I don’t know. I got up at nine, worked out for forty five minutes then showered. I guess the working out helped me work up an appetite.” He shrugs then continues with his meal.
“Damn, Matt. Maybe I should’ve tried that. But my head was killing me this morning.”
“Yeah, when I feel like shit, usually working out a little kills my hangover. I’m ready for another night now.” He’s smiling at my cringed face. Yuck! Not me tonight, that’s for sure.
Cory enters the restaurant now, and his clothes look clean. Jeans on and he’s wearing a vintage Nirvana T-shirt. But his eyes . . . His eyes are blood red and bugged out. It’s either he didn’t sleep at all last night, or he is stoned out of his mind. He pulls up a chair between Matt and I on my left side.
“Good morning, guys,” he says to us.
“Hey how are you?” I pull my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose a bit and quirk my left eyebrow up at him. He knows I’m onto something because he gives me this puzzled look as he pops an ice cube from his water into his mouth.
“Ahhh . . . Fine,” he says slowly, clearly.
“Okay then.” I know it wasn’t just pot. His eyes wouldn’t be buggedout-looking, and he wouldn’t be fidgety either. He would’ve been laid back and have more tired-looking eyes. Nope. My guess is that he did some coke again. I hope he doesn’t keep going with this. Ever since that one night in the studio, I have been worried about him.
Roger comes back to the table and practically drops his plate. I laugh to myself a little because Frankie was kind of right. Roger is barbaric. His plate is smothered in sausage gravy. I can’t even tell what’s underneath the gravy. Fucking eh.
Jared sits beside me, and I can at least tell what he is having: bacon, cinnamon roll, and yogurt. Roger must have noticed it too because he blanches out.
“What the fuck, Jared? Yogurt!”
“What, man? This shit is good. Not like that heart attack shit you’re eating.” Jared peels off the tab of his yogurt and digs in.
“This is what grown men eat, Jared. Not bitch food like yours.” Roger starts digging into his plate, and after a few bites he says, “So how you doing, Sophie?” Sophie is what they call me sometimes. Our own little endearment. “You look like hell.”
What?
“Well, Rog. I don’t feel that great, so of course, I might not look like it.” I roll my eyes at him and start eating my oatmeal again, laughing a little. Gotta love him. And sometimes wanna slap him.
After we finish with our breakfast, we go back to our rooms and collect our things. We make our way down to the lobby, waiting for our cab. Undead Society gets to travel to the airport by limousine. Not us. But maybe someday. Hopefully, we will be as successful as them.
Chapter Eleven
Once we reach the airport, we drive through these gates that lead us to a private runway where the private jet is waiting for us. From LA to Vegas, Undead Society flew via private jet; but we came via commercial flight. So right now is fucking insane.
Stepping out under the hot Vegas sun, I pull my hair up into a sloppy bun. I was just starting to feel decent, and I don’t want my hair on my neck, making me feel too hot again. It might trigger something in my hangover.
Lux walks up to us and smiles. He’s wearing another suit; but this time, it’s all beige with a white shirt underneath. In his chest pocket, he has a white silk handkerchief. “How’s it going, everyone?” he asks, looking at each of us. We all reply with “good” and nod to him. “Let me just say again that last night’s performance was great. You guys and lady” He smiles at me. “killed it! So we are just beginning, and there will be way more shit to come. But if you guys keep this up like last night, and in time . . . Well, let’s just say the world will know every single one of you guys by next year.” He gestures toward the plane. “Get on. Undead is already in there. You will be sharing with them. Your equipment left two hours ago on a separate plane. And the rest of the crew is flying commercial. They will be in St. Louis this evening. Enjoy your flight.” He was walking toward his limo when he stops suddenly. “Oh, I have some other clients I’m meeting up with for dinner tonight. I will see you guys tomorrow at the show.” And with that, Lux ducks into the limousine and takes off.
I’m the last one to step into the jet. It’s small. It has tan leather sofas lining the walls and a mini bar set up in the far left corner. There is a table in the far right corner, and beyond that, there’s a door that leads to
70 a private bedroom. It’s light and airy everywhere in here with different shades of creams masking the walls and décor of the jet. I notice Gunner sprawled out on the right couch, grinning up at me with his arms crossed behind his head. “How’s it going?” He nods, but I can’t see his eyes with his shades on. “Fucking sweet! Booze!” Roger exclaims as he starts walking over to the bar. Can’t take him anywhere, I swear. I glance around for a spot to take a seat on. I’m still really tired and would like nothing more to do than pass out; but with nine guys in this small jet, it’s kind of impossible to really find a comfy spot.
“Hey. Is anyone claiming the back room?” I ask loudly so that they can all hear me. Roger doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy making himself a drink. Fucking alcoholic! Jared and Matt take a seat at the table with Caleb and Dave. Gunner is on one of the couches, and Ryan is on the other; but Roger is making his way to sit next to him. I really don’t want to make Gunner sit up. I would feel kind of bad and bitchy to ask. Just then, Gunner says, “I think the back room is still free? Tristan is still in the pisser. So you better claim it while you can.” I smile at him and thank him for the heads up and make my way to the back room. I need to fucking sleep a little, or I will turn into a zombie. I need to get my body trained for this shit. Performing and partying.
As I turn the door handle, I notice it’s unlocked. Phew! That’s a good sign. A bed all to myself sounds amazing. I turn the handle over and gently push my way through when I notice Tristan standing there. He’s removing his shirt over his head. I see each one of his muscles flex and tighten as he pulls his shirt off. Damn.
Tristan’s upper body is now completely bare. I must look like a damn fool right now for staring, but I can’t pull my gaze away. He is a total Adonis. He has smooth, olive skin; and every muscle is rigged and defined at its best. I mean the guy
has a freaking eight-pack! With a deep V that leads down . . . With just a dusting of dark chest hair on his defined pecs. His ripped jeans hang snug and low off of his narrow hips with just an inch of black boxers showing. He might be a jerk, but right now, he’s one absolutely fine ass jerk.
I move my body quickly, pulling myself from my wandering mind and eyes. Damn. I’m so embarrassed. He’s just staring back at me with no expression on his face, but the look in his eyes seems to be surprised a little. It’s probably from me just barging in here, and I can only imagine that I must look like a damn goldfish right now for how my mouth is open and how my eyes are wide.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” I mumble as I quickly turn around to head back out.
“What are you sorry for Sophia?” Oh, god. I love how he says my name. Stopping, I turn back to face him and gesture with my hands to the room.
“I didn’t know that this room was taken. I just came in without knocking so . . . ” Tristan’s mouth raises on the one side, revealing a cocky half smile. His eyes glisten and darken at the same time. My body begins to react at the look he’s giving me.
“Well, you don’t need to be sorry for opening a door. If I wanted privacy, then I would’ve fucking locked it.” His voice has some edge to it.
Looking over him real quick, checking him out, I see his smile fade. Giving him a slight nod, I spin back around, trying to leave the room. Again his words stop me in my tracks.
“Were you looking for a spot to crash?”
“Ah yeah, but it’s cool. I can go rest out on one of the couches.” Hurry! Get the hell out now! I scream at myself. Grabbing the handle, I push up on the lever.
“Well, babe, you can always crash in here with me if you want.”
Spinning around, I give him this “what the fuck are you talking about” look. Tristan has this teasing smile on now, showing off his perfect white teeth. His head tilted back a bit, and his arms folded over his broad chest. The sight of him doing this sends moisture to my center. I close my legs tighter, trying to relieve the pressure. I cross my arms and copy him, quirking my eyebrows up, sucking in my cheeks a little. I have to hide this sudden attraction to him, so I decide to look like I’m annoyed. Which, by the way, right now, I am. But I’m more annoyed at my traitorous body for feeling this way than I am at the invitation he’d just given me.
“Ahh . . . No thanks, Tristan. I’ll be fine out there,” I say to him in a smart ass tone. I turn around and start walking out the door; then I wave my left hand up at him in the air and say, “Thanks anyway.”
The door shuts behind me, and I let out a breath of air that I must have been holding in. I seem to do that every time I’m really nervous. I was beginning to feel hypnotized by him in there. Shit.
I take a seat next to Roger and curl myself up. I place my earbuds in to tune everyone around me out so I can rest for a little while. I don’t mind being out here, though; it’s just a little noisy for me to be able to really sleep well in is all. I will just have to jam softly to keep the rest of the guy’s noises at bay.
I scroll though my playlist and end up picking “Perfect Circle” by Three Libras. It’s mellow for me to fade away to. The music begins to softly play, and my mind begins to start drifting away with the gentle lyrics of this song. I rest my left arm up on the couch and rest my head on it. Soon, I drift off.
I feel weight pushed down beside me and the warmth of someone’s skin so close. I flutter my eyes open to see what’s going on. Tristan is sitting beside me with his arms resting on the top of the couch. His left hand is barely grazing my neck. I jerk suddenly, taken aback at his proximity. Roger is still on my other side, talking to Tristan. Tristan notices me when I jerk, softly looking down at me. Sitting up quickly, I move myself away from him. How long has he been sitting there?
I look over to Roger and ask, “How long have I been out?” He puckers his lips and looks up while rubbing his chin, thinking.
“Probably a couple of hours. We’re about to land soon. Which reminds me . . . Better make one more drink.” Roger gets up and goes over to the bar.
“Sleep well?” Tristan’s deep voice pulls my attention back to him. Before I could answer him, he starts going again. “Don’t get used to this. We’re catching a bus after tomorrow night’s gig.” He’s cockier now. Who does he think I am? A diva or something?
“I know,” I respond, my tone flat. But really I don’t. I should’ve known though. I mean, it is my first tour. Even though we are with Undead, I just thought being with that band gave us a few more perks than if we were with some other band.
Tristan is just staring at me. At least now he has his fucking hoodie back on. I would’ve been too distracted if he didn’t. Tristan stands and walks over to the other couch now to sit beside Gunner. He’s so tall that he has to crouch when standing up. Why couldn’t he have just sat over there in the first place?
“Hey, Sophia. Remember that one time on New Year’s when you drank all those jaeger bombs? Fucking eh. Talk about blowing chunks.” Matt starts laughing with Caleb at the table at his little story. My eyes go huge again. Why did Matt have to bring that up? I barely remember that night as it is, let alone having everyone on the plane laughing now. Well, almost everyone. Tristan is just sitting there, but he did have a quick closed-mouth smile on his face at first.
“Come on, guys.” Cory chimes in while dealing the cards. “What did you guys expect? I mean, she’s fucking tiny and doing them bombs all night was going to catch up with her. We all knew it. Remember?” He looks around, gesturing toward me. “We had that bet on how long she would go. Jared won that one, by the way.” Cory starts laughing at me.
“Yeah, the only thing he’s ever won,” Roger says. I look over to Jared and scowl at him. I can’t believe they had bets on me! Especially my sweet, dear, quiet Jared. Motherfuckers.
“Fuck off!” I look over at them, crossing my arms. “That was over four years ago. I can take any of you’s on now. Well, maybe not Roger.” They all start bursting out, laughing at me.
“Yeah, okay, Sophia. Well, maybe Jared ’cause he’s a little yogurteating bitch.” Roger laughs.
“Fuck you, man!” Jared says back to him, shaking his head.
“I’ll throw down five hundred saying you can’t.” Tristan speaks up. “You have to outdrink Jared and one other.” He raises his eyebrow up at me with a mischievous grin on his face. Is this guy really throwing money down on me?
“Fuck yeah!” Roger wails excitedly. “Let’s do it tonight!”
Oh, no. Not tonight please. I’m way too hungover.
“No. No, Roger,” I say, shaking my head. “Too hungover from last night to be doing anything like that tonight.”
Tristan’s grin widens at me. “What, Sophia? I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it. It will be the easiest money I have ever won.”
Oh, so now I’m being challenged, huh? What the hell. I know I’m being peer pressured right now, but I don’t care. I want Tristan’s cocky mouth shut and proven wrong. Before I have any time to think about it anymore, I jump in to it.
“All right. I’ll take that fucking bet. But if I win— When I win, I want the penthouse suite for the rest of the tour.” Oh, yeah! That’s a good one. I shouldn’t be getting spoiled like that, but some of the places we go to are really fucking nice; and we just have begun touring, so it makes it worth my while.
Tristan eyes me carefully then nods in agreement. “Fine. If you win, then you can have my room for rest of the tour.”
“Fuck yeah! It’s gonna be fun tonight!” Roger goes on again, excited. “Jared and Matt versus Sophia.”
Matt gets up and walks over to the bar to set down his drink. “Better stop this now since I’m sure I will be having plenty more tonight.” He smiles at me with his deep blue eyes full of light. Oh, dear lord. What did I just get myself into?
When we landed, I grabbed my belongings and made my way out of the jet. All of the guys are still laughing at me. Why did I agree to this?
I’m caught up in the middle of their game. Preparing a mental checklist of what I have to do to prep me for tonight. No backing down now. Squaring my shoulders, I exit the plane.
Chapter Twelve
We’re all hanging out in Tristan’s suite tonight. Even Frankie is here tonight to support me. When we landed, I texted him and told him what was going on. When I got to the hotel, I worked out, ordered room service, and took another shower to prep me for tonight.
Tristan’s suite is beautiful. It’s this large, open room with a bar and a kitchen on the back wall. It has a marble island with four steel stools in the center of the kitchen area. On the other side of the suite are these tall glass windows with this beautiful view of the Gateway Arch. Couches are set up in a giant U at the center of the living area, with an oak dining table off to the left. On the wall to the east side of the room is a door, which I’m assuming leads to the master suite, and a giant flat screen TV plastered to the wall. I take a seat next to Cory on one of the stools. Tristan comes out of his bedroom, looking mighty fine as usual. He’s wearing light blue jeans and a black long sleeved, thermal shirt pushed up to his elbows, showing off his left arm sleeve. He must have just taken a shower because his hair is pushed back and hanging behind his ears, exposing his whole broad face.
“All right, let’s get tonight happening!” Roger gets up from the couch, making his way over to the bar. “You guys have to have all of the same drinks. No bitchy wine coolers, Jared.”
“Whatever, man. Your mom likes those when I bring them over,” Jared pipes in, rising to his feet and following Roger.
“Fuck off!” Roger says to him and approaches me. “What would
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