The guys and I jumped up onto the platform while Nicole watched from the arena floor. We took our positions, and after the sound guy made the necessary adjustments, we played the set’s opening song.
While drumming, I watched Nicole dance around, moving to the beat I was creating. Over the years I’d seen how the fans responded to our music, but seeing how much she was enjoying it caused a ripple of pride inside me. It was the first time I’d felt anything like that. And it was the same pride I’d experienced after playing on the piano the music I’d created that no one had heard before…except for Nicole in that moment.
I could’ve easily played the rest of our set if it meant getting to watch her move like that some more.
With the sound check finished, we went backstage to prepare for tonight. We changed into our stage clothes and headed for the area designated for the meet-and-greet. This was our chance to visit with the fans who had won the opportunity to meet Pushing Limits and Endless Motion. When we first started touring after the release of our debut album, only a few individuals would trickle into the room set up for the band. Some had come into the wrong room, looking for Crazy Piper instead of us. But by the time we’d finished touring with them, our designated room had been packed each time. Because of that, the record label had decided we needed a bigger room on this tour. Even so, it was still packed.
We stood side by side near the exit, with the fans herded toward us like cattle. While it wasn’t my favorite way of doing things, at least it gave them a chance to meet us.
The large room smelled like a nightclub, minus the booze, with an extra helping of perfume. And it wasn’t easy to hear over the chattering of fans as they waited their turn, or the occasional individuals singing our songs in the background, as if auditioning to replace Nolan in the band.
“Can I get a picture of us together?” a woman asked, her long black hair styled in hundreds of tiny braids. She was hot in a tight T-shirt that clung to her sexy curves. She was the type of woman I would’ve been more than happy to screw before the show.
But instead of flirting with her, I glanced around for Nicole. Disappointment kicked me in the nuts when I couldn’t find her.
“Sure,” I said to the fan.
She stepped up to me, pressing her large tits against my arm, and shot the picture, her head close to mine. She checked how it looked and grinned, happy with the results, which was a relief. Some girls weren’t happy just to get a picture with a member of the band. The photo had to be worthy of the cover of Rolling Stone.
She thanked me and moved on to Kirk.
The girl behind her approached me, bouncing up and down like a cheerleader who had to take a piss. “OMG! I love you so much, Mason!” she shrieked. I managed to hold back a grimace. As much as I loved meeting the fans, there was a level of fangirling that was hard to take. She was approaching that line.
I smiled at her, but then had second thoughts about doing that when it looked like she might faint. Note to self: hold back on patented panty-dropping smile whenever dealing with fangirls who shriek.
“I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you,” she gushed, her words coming in a hurry. “You’re, like, the sexiest man alive.”
I laughed. “Tell that to People magazine.”
She nodded, the jerky movement reminding me of a grinning bobblehead. “I definitely will.” From the way she said it, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, even though I’d been joking.
The parade of fans continued. Some were excited to meet us and tell us how much they loved our music. Some wanted selfies with us. A couple of girls tried to kiss my cheek when I posed with them; by the third time, I had to preface the photo with a no-kissing rule—something I’d never felt the need to do before. Others required only a quick autograph. A couple of individuals tried to give us their demo CDs to pass on to our record label. Those were always filed away in the trash can after the meet-and-greet—as were the bras and panties flung at us while we were onstage.
The guy who had just handed me his demo moved on to Kirk…revealing Nicole. My heart did a rapid four-beat pattern. That was new. My heart had never responded that way to a woman before, clothed or unclothed.
For a second I cursed my no-kissing rule. At least then I could’ve persuaded Nicole to give me one, even if it was a quick peck on the cheek.
“Can’t wait to see you in concert,” she said with a smile.
I shifted closer, my mouth an inch from her ear. “Can’t wait for you to see what I can do with my hands,” I murmured.
She laughed, and not for the first time I wished we were back at her house, alone. Having fun. Being ourselves. “I already know how good you are with your hands,” she said before stepping away. She winked at me and moved on to Kirk.
I didn’t hear what he was saying to her, because in that moment, while I was no longer paying attention to anything other than Nicole, the next person in line swooped in and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Hey, babe,” she purred. “Do you remember me?”
The worst question you could ever ask a touring musician was if he remembered you, especially if he saw thousands of people a night. Chances were great the answer was no. And how was he supposed to respond when he was at risk of hurting your feelings? Because no girl ever asked “Do you remember me?” and wanted the answer to be no.
“How’re you doing?” I asked, nimbly avoiding the question. Which of course she took to mean that I did remember her.
“I’m going commando like last time.” Too bad she had to announce it loud enough for Kirk and Nicole to overhear, and both turned to look at us. Judging from the hurt on Nicole’s face for a fleeting moment, she no doubt assumed I would be disappearing with the fan right after this, for a little pre-concert stress release.
I was so busy paying attention to Nicole, I didn’t notice the woman lean into me. “Are you free after this? I’ve got some new moves I wanna show ya.” Her tongue forged a trail along my jaw.
My head jerked away from her as if a killer bee had stung me. “Thanks, but I’m gonna be busy after this.”
“What about after the concert?”
“Then too…that’s when we leave.”
She pouted, much the way Logan did whenever he was disappointed—a definite mood killer, if I’d been in the mood. “Even though Endless Motion hasn’t gone onstage yet?”
“Our bus driver likes to get an early start.” Maybe that would have been true if the driver had had a choice, but it didn’t matter—the buses all left at the same time, once the venue was packed up.
“That’s too bad. Maybe next time.”
“Yes, maybe next time,” I said, without really meaning it.
She moved on to talk to Kirk. I glanced at him to see how much Nicole had overheard, but she wasn’t with him or any of the other guys.
Chapter 19
Nicole
The woman who had just declared to the room that she was going commando licked Mason’s face like a dog licking her prized bone.
I didn’t need to see any more to know what would happen next. Luckily for me, Kirk had no issues with confirming my suspicions. “Sorry, Nicole, but this is who Mason is. He always gets restless before a concert. He goes off, has a good fuck, then he’s ready to go.” He really did sound sorry, but it didn’t take the sting out of his words.
I gave him my best Mason-is-just-my-employer-nothing-more smile. “It’s getting a little claustrophobic in here. I’ll wait for you guys outside the room.” I didn’t give Kirk a chance to say anything before I bailed. Aaron, Jared, and Nolan were too busy with their fans to notice me leaving.
Outside the room, I checked to see if I had missed any calls or texts. I sent Heidi a text, telling her that I couldn’t believe how crazy things got on tour, but so far I was enjoying it.
I shot a few backstage photos that I figured the fans would be eager to see. What better way to get the fans involved than by showing them a taste of the band’s day-to-day life on the road? I’d already taken
a few photos during the radio interview. I checked their media sites to see if anyone had responded to them, and was met by tons of variations on “They’re soooo hot,” “Wish they were coming to my town,” and heart-eye emojis. Nothing said it better than a heart-eye emoji.
I posted the new pictures I’d taken at the meet-and-greet. People were still trickling out of the room, so I leaned back against the wall and brainstormed an idea for a giveaway to help increase the band’s exposure on the sites. The other thing I wanted to talk to them about was setting up a newsletter. It was easy to miss things on the social media sites unless you lived on them 24/7.
By the time the last of the fans staggered from the room, I had come up with several ideas. The guys appeared a moment later, and we headed to the room set up with food and drinks for everyone involved in the show. Some people were already there, eating and drinking, enjoying a short break before returning to work.
We grabbed paper plates and loaded them with food. I selected a bottle of water, while Mason pulled a bottle of beer from the cooler. I sat on the ugly green vinyl couch. Mason didn’t. Instead, he paced while eating his food. Back and forth. Again, and again, and again. I was getting nauseated just watching him.
The guys didn’t appear to notice. Maybe this was what Kirk had been referring to earlier. Which meant after Mason finished eating, he would meet up with Miss Commando.
I chewed on a slice of pizza while I contemplated what I should do. Obviously I wouldn’t be the one to help him with his “problem,” because that would be crossing the line of professionalism.
Not that making out with him in the elevator was standing on the right side of the line either.
I checked the time on my phone. The band would be playing soon, and he still hadn’t left to hook up with the woman from the meet-and-greet.
“Mason, can I talk to you in the hallway for a minute?” I said it loud enough so no one would think we were sneaking off for a quick fuck. At least I hoped they didn’t, because it was the truth.
“Sure,” he said with a shrug, obviously perplexed that what I needed to tell him couldn’t be said in front of everyone. He set his plate down on the empty plastic chair next to the couch and followed me out the doorway.
I led him down a hallway that didn’t look like it got much traffic.
“So what’s up?” he asked. The distant sounds of cheering could be heard coming from the arena, where the audience was getting ready for the show.
An uneasy energy buzzed from him that was hard to explain. It seemed like a combination of the excitement a child experiences the night before Christmas and exam apprehension. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
His comment would’ve been more believable if he hadn’t been fidgeting.
“Well, for starters, you were pacing in there. I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve never seen you do that before.”
His shoulders hiked up in a quick move. “I’m always like this before a concert.”
“Kirk mentioned that.”
His eyes narrowed. “What else did he say?” His tone was sharp enough to cut, yet not sharp enough to inflict serious damage.
“Not much else, other than that you usually burn it off before the show by…um…” I could feel the heat of my face increase to a new record temperature.
“By fucking some random chick?” The edge was still there, and I cringed.
“He didn’t go into specifics, but it was kind of obvious.” After the woman you were talking to announced it to the room.
“What are you getting at, Nicole? Are you offering to find me some random chick to screw?”
“Of course not,” I bit out. “But there must be something I can do to help you.” At his suggestive grin, I added, “Something in the realm of my contract.” Which the label had forwarded to Nolan while we were on the road, and I had printed off and signed.
“So you’re telling me a blow job is off the table?”
I harrumphed. “Of course it’s off the table.”
Mason threw his head back with a laugh, and I couldn’t help smiling a little at how my words had sounded. Finally I gave in and laughed too.
Mason closed the distance between us, his warm beer breath stroking my face. “More than anything, I want to be buried deep inside you, Nicole. Or have your hot lips around my dick.”
His voice—deep, rough, and bursting with pure male sexiness—went directly to the spot between my legs and turned my panties damp. Damn him.
“But I’ll settle for this instead.” His lips blazed a path along my jaw to my mouth…then those talented lips consumed me. And I let him. I ignored the nagging voice in the back of my head pointing out this was still unprofessional. Nowhere in the contract had it mentioned that my job responsibilities included kissing him to help him deal with pre-show restlessness.
But maybe they could amend the contract.
Pushing everything to the side, I focused on the kiss and nothing else. What I was doing was strictly for the audience’s benefit. They’d paid good money for a great show, and this was my way of making sure the Pushing Limits part of the show was exactly that. And ultimately it would benefit album sales. It was a win-win for everyone.
Yes, keep telling yourself that, a voice in the back of my head said with a sarcastic laugh.
We continued kissing for several minutes, until I became so riled up I came close to dropping my no-sex stance. But before I had a chance to cave, Mason pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice still rough. “I needed that.”
“Anytime.”
“We could write it into your job description.”
I smirked. “We could.”
“I should probably go join the guys.”
“You probably should.”
Instead of leaving, though, Mason kissed me once again. But not a heavy, all-consuming kiss this time. It was nothing more than a light brushing of the lips—which made me want him even more.
Then we joined the rest of the band near the stage so they could prepare for the show. I stepped back to give them a chance to do their pre-show ritual without me getting in their way. While they did that, I tweeted and posted on their behalf that they were getting ready to go on. Within seconds, I received responses from people who were disappointed they couldn’t be here…or from people at the show who were excited for it to start. They had come only to see Pushing Limits.
Five minutes later, I knew exactly why they had come to see the band. The guys were onstage, and from where I was standing I had a pretty decent view of them. Well, their backs, at least. But it didn’t matter. Their music and their presence filled the space and had the audience screaming with joy, singing along with the lyrics, dancing. Nolan was amazing up there. I could see why he was the band’s front man, and it wasn’t just because of his good looks. His charisma and talent had the fans hungry for more.
From what I could see, it wasn’t just a few people who felt this way. It was the majority of the arena. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the people who’d responded to my tweets and posts weren’t the only ones who’d come just to see Pushing Limits perform.
They shouldn’t be an opening act. They were bigger than that.
Eventually their set came to an end. Nolan thanked the crowd for coming and the guys walked off the stage, waving to the audience.
I’d been to a few country music concerts, and after the main act left the stage, the audience would go wild, demanding an encore. The opening band, not so much.
But that wasn’t the case with Pushing Limits. Based on the volume of the audience demanding an encore, you’d have thought they were the main act.
“Are you guys going back out there?” I asked.
Nolan shook his head, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, his hair dark with wet strands. His T-shirt was also sweat-drenched—the same look the other four men shared. “Our set’s done. The roadies need to finish setting u
p for Endless Motion.”
“Even though the audience wants more?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jared said. “It’s not our concert. We’re just the opening act.”
My gaze slid to each guy. “Does this happen often?”
“Pretty much at every show,” Mason said, “but there’s nothing we can do about it.” A hopeful smile appeared on his sweaty face. “So, what did you think? Did you enjoy it?”
I returned his smile, partly because I had enjoyed it and partly because of Mason’s expression. He was actually nervous about what I thought. “I loved it. You guys are amazing. It’s no wonder everyone wants an encore.” Heck, never mind what everyone else wanted…I wanted an encore.
Jared and Kirk handed their instruments to the roadies. Relief brushed Nolan’s face when a roadie handed him his guitar case.
“You guys want to hit the sports bar around the corner and get in a few rounds of pool while we wait?” Kirk asked.
“Let me guess, puck boy,” Mason said. “The L.A. Kings are playing tonight.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m not ready to get on the bus yet.”
The guys agreed with that. All were still buzzed from their amazing performance.
The security guard was less concerned about us leaving than he had been about us entering the arena. But it also could’ve been because the man was busy with two groupies who were attempting to seduce him into letting them sneak in. Either the man was a dedicated employee or he just wasn’t interested. Before the doors closed behind us, I caught him telling them, “No backstage passes, no entry.”
Since we didn’t have tons of time before the show ended, we ran across the parking lot in the direction Kirk remembered seeing the bar. As we ran, water droplets splashed against me. Not many at first, but by the time we got to the other side of the parking lot, the rain was coming down hard and the air had a brisk nip to it.
I Need You Tonight Page 14
