Shay is kickin' it!
@shayrogan rocks!
Marry me, @shayrogan !
I turned off my phone and tossed it on the table. I knew better than to read reviews, even if they were just social media quips. You really couldn't take any review too seriously, good or bad. There was no way to make everyone happy, though it would be nice to make someone happy.
But the comments had confirmed what Daddy had said and what I'd suspected. Shay was great and I sucked. He'd rub that one in. Like he hadn't already, laying that kiss on me before he went on stage, in front of everyone. It was his way of giving me the finger before he blew my performance out of the water.
It wasn't fair. Of course I knew that some shows were better than others, but I'd wanted to show Shay what it really meant to be a professional performer. I was the veteran. I agonized over the set list. I practiced. I worked with choreographer and a designer and wardrobe so that I could give the show people wanted. But all they wanted was Shay, who'd barely practiced or planned anything. Except that kiss. It was obvious he'd done a lot of practicing on that. That was another topic that was best not reviewed.
I rubbed my eyes, my head pounding from the stage lights, the stress of performing and being ticked off at Shay. Bed was a good idea. I'd worry tomorrow about what I was going to do to fix this. There had to be a tweak or a change I could make to the set list that would set everything right again. Plus it was Shay's turn to go on first at the next show. Maybe I'd thank him for opening when I went out. I smiled at that thought.
I went back to my bedroom and pulled down the covers, feeling a little better about things. I wished we were leaving right now. Being on the road at night, with the hum of the road under the tires and the gently sway of the bus as it ate up the miles to the next stop always put me to sleep. But our next show in Atlanta was less than four hours away, so there was no need to rush tonight. And besides, Shay was still on stage for another 30 minutes or so.
I took my MP3 player out of the night stand drawer and grabbed my e-reader. I'd preloaded a bunch of books I'd been meaning to get to and I chose a murder mystery and settled into bed. Sting's new album drowned out thoughts of Shay, though I could still feel the bass from inside the stadium.
By the time my book's PI had been shot at twice, the thump of the bass had stopped and I relaxed a little. One date down, 14 to go. Silence settled on the bus and I set my headphones aside and just lay there for a moment looking at the curve of the low ceiling. How many years had I spent on a bus, anyway, I wondered, as my mind started to relax for sleep. How many nights had I stared at the ceiling, happy with the way things had gone, feeling all warm and fuzzy from the fan love that had always been shown to me?
There were some occasions had I gone to bed truly unhappy with the way the performance went. I was never 100% satisfied, but all the fan love usually made up for it. I savored the alone time, the slow wind-down after a show, though I was always worrying about the next night's performance.
Just as I was ready to turn out the light, there was a pounding at my bus door.
I sat up. Daddy had said he was going to turn in and knowing I needed time to think after a bad show, he never came back to chat a second time. Unless something was really wrong.
I got up and headed towards the front of the bus, worried.
"Michelle?"
It wasn't Daddy. It was Shay.
I bit my lip, wondering whether he'd just go away and assume I was asleep if I didn't answer. I really didn't want to face his gloating. But if I didn't answer he'd think I was hiding out, too embarrassed to face him after my crappy performance.
I flipped the lock on the bus door.
Shay pulled it open and stepped on board. He'd showered and changed into clean jeans and a tight blue t-shirt that emphasized the girth of his biceps, but he still wore that ratty-ass hat.
"Something wrong?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly very aware that I wasn't wearing a bra under my thin t-shirt. "It's after 11," I said. "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep for tomorrow's show?"
"Can't sleep right after a show," he said. "I need some time to come down off the high, I guess."
"High?" I frowned. Even though I knew a smorgasbord of recreational drugs were rampant on tour busses, and the beer flowed freely, I tried to run a clean tour.
"If you think I'm going to cover for you with the label when you come down off whatever you're popping before going on stage, you're—"
"Whoa. I don't pop anything," he said. "I'm talking about the natural high you get when you're on stage. You know what I mean."
I must have looked at him like he had grown two heads.
"You don't feel like you could fly when you come off stage?"
"Usually I'm just glad it's over," I said. "Glad I made it through without embarrassing myself."
"That's a shame." He seemed genuinely disappointed by my answer. Good thing I wasn't put on Earth to please Shay Rogan.
"Was there something you wanted?" I asked, feeling like I'd missed something. That I was lacking in some way just because I didn't feel like climbing Mount Everest when I got done with a show, while the fabulous Shay Rogan did. My headache was coming back.
"Me and the band are going to grab a bite to eat. Thought I'd ask you along."
"No thanks," I crossed my arms. “I need at least seven hours of sleep.”
"Aw, come on. The back-up singers are going and you're as skinny as a stray cat on crack. When's the last time you ate?"
"I had a salad two hours before the sound check and an energy bar before the show, just like always."
"That ain't food. Come on. Come out with us. It's the first night and it's kind of a tradition for me. I'm buying."
"You have a lot of traditions," I said under my breath. And then I wished I hadn't because his gaze dropped to my mouth and it was obvious he was thinking about the kiss, too. I sure didn't want him to think I was obsessing over one stupid little kiss like I was one of his groupies.
"Some of them are really good ones, don't you think?" The self-assured smirk was back. "I can show you again if you're not convinced."
"Go away, Shay," I said. "I need some sleep, even if you don't."
Maybe I was a coward, but there was no way I was facing the whole crew right now, listening to everyone congratulate Shay on a great show and then look over at me with an awkward pity. "And you'd better bring your "A" game tomorrow night, because I'm going to kick your ass."
He grinned then, slow and sexy and leaned against the vertical bar next to the driver's seat.
"Did sweet little Shelly May just say 'ass'?"
"No. I said I'm going to kick your ass. And don't call me Shelly May."
"There's the fire I remember," Shay said. "Why didn't you show some of that on stage?"
"I'm not discussing my performance with you, Shay," I said. "You know the way out."
He didn't budge. "In case you forgot, both our necks are on the line, Michelle. Your performance is my performance. We're in this together. Isn’t that what you told me back in Nashville?"
Exactly the point I'd made when I felt he wasn't rehearsing enough. Damn, it sucked to have your words thrown back at you, especially when you knew they were right on target.
"Come out to dinner with us. It'll help you unwind. And seeing us together, the crew will know that we're a team here."
Damn. Another good point. Maybe showing my face was the best thing to do. It was about the tour, not us as individuals, after all. And I'd look like the stuck-up princess Shay accused me of being if everyone on the tour was there except for me. "I'll...have to change."
Shay let his gaze roam over my body from head to toe. "You look good to me. Like you just rolled out of bed."
"I did just roll out of bed." The statement just hung there, and I enjoyed his obvious discomfort. I dropped my arms and smiled when his gaze went right to my breasts.
"Yeah. Well, uh, don't take too long to get dressed OK? The boys are
hungry." Shay swallowed hard and it gave me a tiny bit of pleasure that I still had that on him.
My libido didn’t follow commands when it came to Shay and apparently neither did his.
Chapter Five
Somebody, I didn't know who, begged, borrowed or stole an old minivan and Shay and the guys from the band, the back-up singers, as well as a couple of Shay's roadie buddies piled in. The thing was full, with the back-up singers sitting on the laps of the band and not seeming to mind a bit. The last one in line for load-in, I was relieved that there were no seats left, since I had been having second and even third thoughts about going out with the group. I'd showed my face, proved I wasn't one of those prissy artists who relied on their support staff but then never bothered to learn names or say hello. OK, so normally I didn't know the names of all the road crew. But Shay was obviously tight with them so that meant I needed to make an effort. I didn't actually need to go with them, just make it clear I had been willing to go.
"It looks like there's no room," I said, trying to sound disappointed. "You guys go ahead and I'll just head back to the bus. I'm tired anyway." I grabbed the handle, intending to close the sliding door, but before I could back away and make a clean escape, Shay grabbed my wrist. He was sitting in the seat closest to door. "I have a seat for you, Baby. Don't worry."
One minute both of my feet were solidly on the pavement and the next I was sitting cross-ways on Shay's lap. He reached around me to slide the door closed and I was stuck.
"This isn't safe," I said, my spine stiff. "What if we wreck?"
"I've got you," Shay said, and wrapped his arms around my waist. "If you get scared you can put your arms around my neck." There was just enough light for me to see that cocky grin that drove me nuts.
His thighs were hard and warm beneath my backside and his clean, just-showered scent reminded me of our night together all those years ago. I'd been so hot for Shay I'd been willing to throw away everything I'd ever worked for, everything I'd ever missed out on by being on the road, all for one night. And what had his reaction been? Patting himself on the back about nailing a well-known country music star.
Sex with Shay had been all that I'd wanted it to be and more, but I wasn't a young horny 20-something anymore. He was still the sexiest—and most infuriating— man alive. But I could handle the desire that coursed through me without acting on it. The price had been too high, even if my career had recovered from those awkward and embarrassing morning-after photos.
"I may wrap my hands around your throat instead," I said under my breath. The van was noisy with everyone talking and laughing, and the radio blaring top 40 country but Shay heard my comment and smiled.
"Oh, bringing out your kinky side tonight, huh? I like it when you get all frisky on me."
"You wish."
He leaned forward and spoke directly into my ear."Any time, baby. You've got my number." His husky voice and erotic offer sent a bolt of electricity straight to my sex. I was glad for the relative darkness so that Shay wouldn't be able to detect how hard my nipples had gotten with just a few words.
"Don't hold your breath."
The drummer, who was driving, made a sharp left and I started to shift. I did grab for Shay, bringing his head into close contact with the cleavage my low-cut top exposed. I thought I felt the brush of his lips against my skin before I jerked back.
"Knock it off," I said. "Or I'm going back to the bus."
"Couldn't resist," he said. "I'm not a saint. And you are so hot when you're spittin' mad at me."
"I'm not mad."
"Prickly, then. And I can't for the life of me figure out what I've done this time to piss you off."
“Maybe it’s because you can’t keep your hands, or your lips, to yourself.”
I was hardly going to tell him I was miffed about him putting on a better show than me, so I ignored his last comment. I managed to put a little distance between Shay's face and my breasts, but with every bump and van hit and every wide turn the driver seemed determined to make, my body bumped against Shay's. It was impossible to keep a professional distance when you were riding on someone's lap.
"Will you quit squirming?" he said, his voice low. "Unless you want to do something about the result."
"It's not like I can help it here, with Mario Andretti driving the van," I said. "I told you I should have stayed behind."
"I don't mind your sweet little ass grinding on me. And your hard nipples within licking distance are making me happy you came. It's just that it's going to be obvious to everyone else just how happy I am, too. You make me hot, woman. Always have."
His hands slid to the back pockets of my jeans and he pulled me even closer to him so that I could feel exactly how hot I made him, only two layers of denim away.
I did not need the reminder. Images of Shay nude, standing in front of me and demanding I put my mouth on him flashed through my mind like it had happened yesterday. I could almost sense his touch on my bare skin, hear his low moans of satisfaction when I pleased him. Feel the wicked little thing he did with his hips when he was buried deep inside of me.
It was like my body went haywire around Shay, totally ignoring my brain's warnings to forget about him. It was purely carnal and like it or not, I wanted Shay Rogan with an intensity I'd never felt for another man. But I'd learned my lesson. He'd humiliated me after he'd gotten what he wanted from me. And there was no way I was letting him do it a second time.
I pushed against his chest determinedly and he let me move a few inches away so that at least we weren't chest to chest, but he didn't move his hands from the back pockets of my jeans. His fingers stroked small circles over my ass, reminding me how he'd grabbed me roughly as he drove into me. If it was going to be like this every time we came with a few feet of each other, every night...God, it was going to be a long month.
At last the driver pulled into an all-night diner. The place had seen better days. The neon "open 24 hours sign" read only "24" and the building looked like it hadn't been painted since Reagan was in office.
"This is where we're eating?"
"We always eat local on the road," Shay said.
"It looks like the locals don't even eat at this place." The van lurched to a merciful stop in the nearly empty parking lot. "Maybe we should take a hint."
"It'll be fine. It's got character."
"And roaches."
Shay reached around me to open the door. I managed to climb out, thankful for the air and the moment or so to clear my head and put on my game face before we all went into the diner for our culinary adventure. I smoothed my hair and tugged at my shirt until only a hint of cleavage showed. I couldn't do anything about the nipples poking through the cotton, but I hoped no one would notice before the Shay effect wore off.
When the group reached the entrance, Shay surprised me by opening the door for me. He placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me inside. The interior was just as outdated as the exterior, though it did look fairly clean. Red vinyl booths and laminated tables dominated the room. The floor was black-and-white checkered and Patsy Cline sang from the jukebox in the corner. There was a bar where you could sit and watch your dinner hit the deep fryer if you wanted to and most of the fluorescent bulbs overhead were in working order.
After a moment, a waitress with really big blond hair came from the kitchen area and started pulling greasy menus out of the hostess stand. She wore little black booty shorts and a button-up top that looked like it had been left in the dryer way too long. "How many?" she asked, cracking her gum but not looking at us.
"Twelve," Shay said.
"Sure thing. This way."
It was obvious the moment she recognized Shay. Her mouth hung open for a moment and then her overly-mascaraed eyes narrowed. "You're Shay Rogan."
"Yes , Ma'am." Shay flashed his album-cover grin and I had a strong urge to roll my eyes.
The waitress pushed out her double D’s a bit more. "I'm Cori. I'll be taking care of y'all tonight." Her ey
es locked with Shay's. "Anything you want, Honey, you just ask."
"We appreciate that, Cori. Thanks."
"Any time," Cori said and tossed Shay a grin that said she'd be naked on the bar in five seconds flat if Shay crooked his guitar pick her way.
She led us to a large semi-circular booth in the back corner of the diner and everyone started scooting in.
"After you," Shay said, gesturing for me to sit.
I pulled a napkin from the sticky dispenser and wiped my seat before sliding in next to one of the back-up singers. Shay settled in next to me, taking the end seat, making no effort to keep his thigh from bumping against mine.
"It's a tight fit," he said, laying an arm across the back of my seat. "We'll have to squeeze in real close, I guess. Try to control yourself, OK?"
"I think I'll manage." I opened the menu and glared at it, pretending to study the specials. "You might have to watch yourself with Miss Hotpants, there."
"Don't worry. I only have eyes for one girl , tonight."
"I'm not one of your groupies." There was nothing on the menu but burgers, fries and deep fried everything else.
"I wish you were." He played with the ends of my hair while he turned to the menu. "I'd invite you back to my bus and—"
I slapped my menu on the table, exasperated with his constant innuendo. "Let me out. I need to use the ladies room."
"Sure thing." Shay let me out and I stalked across the diner towards the restroom sign I'd seen when we came in. I followed the short hallway to the ladies room and let out a pent-up breath once I was alone inside.
Setting my purse on the sink, I looked in the mirror. I had to get a grip. The constant touching and suggestive comments were not helping my “Forget About Shay Rogan” campaign. Maybe he and I needed to have a serious business discussion about what was and was not appropriate professional behavior. He was acting as if we were lovers on a honeymoon rather than two artists on a forced tour to save our respective careers. I needed to make it crystal clear that there was to be no more kissing, no touching and no suggestive comments. We were partners for the next few weeks and then we'd go our separate ways. If he thought of us as platonic, it would make it easier for me to do the same.
Nashville Boxed Set #1-3 Page 34
