I snorted. “Yeah. Probably.”
“See you next week?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. We’ll see what the calendar has in store.”
“You and yer fancy wankers.”
I nodded and gave him another smile as I headed out. “Me and my fancy wankers.”
“That’s one of the better shiners I’ve seen on ya, mate,” O’Neil said as I walked out of the locker room.
I nodded. “Must have been a bit slow today.”
“Might be time to tell that boss of yours what you get up to on a Friday night, eh?”
“We’ll see. ‘Night, man.”
“See ya later, Ryder.”
With my luck, I wouldn’t have to tell Chaos shit.
I tended to heal fast. Always had. A fight on Friday night with my skills saw me work-ready on Monday. Not unblemished, but healed enough for ‘hard training with Tank’ to be a legitimate excuse for the clientele. I was luckier that my bosses ignored bumps, bruises, cuts or scrapes unless they were actively bleeding on anything they shouldn’t; things we got up to, they could have come from anywhere.
Besides, I wasn’t the one they usually sent on the fancy gigs. Didn’t mean I saw none of the action, but my jobs were normally the sort that a few bruises just cemented the right image. Mr Nelson always worried and insisted I have a cup of tea before we got into work. But Jefferson in particular quite liked how it made me, in his words, extra intimidating. Which went a long way to explain what kind of business he liked to think he ran. Still wasn’t as bad as Falkner, though.
And the Grace Grayson boys were nothing if not excellent at playing a part.
****
The next Thursday, I was hanging out with Flo under the guise of organising my calendar. Because I was that good at organisation.
“So, Mrs Fortescue has a lunch tomorrow–” Flo started.
“Is that the one I need the tux for?” I asked, making sure my tie wasn’t in danger of being too tight.
Flo looked up at me, her face a beacon of exasperated fondness hiding behind a wry smirk. “That’s Mr Nelson on Saturday. Honestly, how do you get such good reviews?”
I shrugged. “I live in the moment.” I waved my hand at her. “All this planning and looking to the future bullshit detracts from the now, darling.”
Flo snorted. “Sure, Edna.”
“That’s on Hank. He’s made me watch that about a thousand times.”
“You’ve babysat twice.”
“He’s got me watching it in my dreams, Flo.”
Flo laughed. “He loves it. He wants to be Dash when he’s older.”
“I can see Archie being more like Violet.”
Flo nodded. “Sounds about right. Now, you’ve distracted me. Mrs Fortescue–”
We were unfortunately interrupted by the ding of the elevator. Flo and I both turned to see who was coming out. And, blow me down, it was a sight for sore eyes.
“Honey,” I called to the offices at large. “Tank’s home!” I looked him over. “But, seriously, aren’t you meant to be on tour?”
Tank sighed. “We’re all supposed to be on tour.”
I pulled up the calendar on my phone and saw the band was scheduled to play at home that weekend. “Ah, pit stop. Nice you found time for your old friends.”
His smile was weary. “Good to see you, too.” He nodded to Flo. “Flo.”
“Hey, Tank,” she said with a smile.
“Tank? Rollie?” our liege called from his office. “A word?”
I looked to Tank. “I can think of a million reasons why I’m being called to the principal’s office, but what did you do?”
“He’ll explain.”
I patted the top of Flo’s desk and followed Tank to Chaos’ office and plonked myself down in one of the chairs. “‘Sup, bossman?”
Chaos spared me the smallest look of exasperation before Tank sat down and the boss launched into it.
“Tank’s…got a challenge on his hands,” Chaos started.
“Understatement,” the big guy mumbled.
Chaos gave him a sympathetic look. “We’ve all been there.”
“So, this doesn’t have anything to do with the computer backgrounds in Nico’s office…?” I asked slowly.
“What computer backgrounds in Nico’s office?” Chaos asked, his face going from direct business-minded to confusedly caught-out.
I was slightly relieved. “Ah. Good. So, if not that, why am I–?”
“ROLLIE!!” the resident nerd screamed from his office. “I am going to kill you. Strangle you. See how you like dismemberment! I’ll dust off my stash of explosives and tie them all to you before I set each one off individually. I don’t care that’s not how it works. I’m doing it. I’m going to– Oh, hey, Tank.” Nico’s rant stopped dead as he pulled up in Chaos’ door.
Tank nodded. “Same old?”
Nico frowned at me. “Worse.”
I shrugged. “I thought I’d zhuzh up the place.”
“What Raegan and I do or don’t do is no business of yours!”
Chaos sighed. “What did you do?” he asked me.
“Who doesn’t like fluffy bunnies and girls in wedding dresses?” I countered.
Nico huffed. “His Photoshop skills are abysmal, by the way.”
“I did that on my phone!” I told him indignantly. “What do you expect?”
Based on Nico’s sneer, I’d hit the sweet spot. He was sufficiently annoyed to yell and gripe and curse me out, but not annoyed enough to do anything but destroy all my hard work and then get on with his life. My person was safe from retaliation.
It was more than I deserved, but less than I expected.
Nico cocked his head to the side. “His desktop display skills, on the other hand. Better than I’d have expected.” There was a note of pride in his voice.
“I practised,” I said with a smile.
All pride was gone. “You keep Raegan out of your shenanigans.” His tone was warning enough, but he added a jutting finger as well.
“What?” I asked the expectant faces of Tank and Chaos. “We’ve had one wedding, surely we’re due another one?” I looked at Chaos pointedly.
Chaos kicked his chin to me, giving me an equally pointed look. “Yeah? Why don’t you find a girl and it can be yours?”
I huffed at him and slouched in my chair. “‘Cos it’s as easy as that,” I grumped.
The annoyed, exasperated and slightly amused faces all turned to sympathy and that was worse.
Two years ago, I hadn’t had this problem. It had been me and my mates and my casual hookups – not at the same time, obviously – and life had been good. Well, as good as could be with the post-special ops PTSD. But the team at Grace Grayson had lived it all together. We knew each other’s demons inside out.
Problem was, the others weren’t just hardwired to deal with those demons better, they were also finding people to help them bear it in ways we couldn’t help each other no matter how much we cared.
Chaos, team leader and now CEO, was fully loved up with his best friend’s little sister. The guy, who was darker than the rest of us combined, now strode our fair halls humming. His past wasn’t forgotten, but it was overshadowed by his future.
Hawk, second only to our leader, was the first of us married and sickeningly happy about it despite the short lead up. His relationships with his sister and Chaos had been what got him through everything, including his two favourite people getting together behind his back.
Nico was as grouchy as ever, but any idiot could see how hard he’d fallen for his nerd queen. He’d always been a cynic and withdrawn, long before any of our missions affected us. Which wasn’t to say he was unaffected, but he’d changed the least of us.
Tank of the perpetual single just had coping mechanisms down. Always had. He had one of those strong constitutions that saw him deal with his problems in a healthy way, unlike the rest of us. How he was
friends with the rest of us and put up with our damaged arses, I’d never know.
Which left me being me. I wouldn’t call myself delicate, but I’d always favoured avoidance instead of dealing with my shit. Letting it all build up in the background to nice unhealthy levels of damaged psyche. But I wasn’t going to bring the rest of them down with my lack of ability to cope, so the humour that had once masked a lack of self-confidence was now a humour that masked deep inner pain. I’d made myself the joker so we could all feel lighter.
It was great for self-preservation and to distract me from my darker thoughts, but was fucking useless for forming real attachments to people who didn’t know me as well as the Grace Grayson boys did. Particularly people of the female variety. Colour me not surprised that, when they were looking for more than a one-night stand, they were looking for someone who didn’t make a joke out of everything from lost lippie to dead pets. I considered myself lucky I never got far enough for them to notice I lacked depth or that I had a wall up that gave China a run for its money.
It was a blessing and a curse.
I was too much of a mess to be any good for a cat, let alone a girlfriend. But that didn’t stop a part of me wanting it. It didn’t stop a part of me knowing I was ready. That I did want it. Wanted what my friends were finding. Because, at the rate they were going, Tank was going to pull a fiancée out of the proverbial woodwork and I was going to be the stunted ninth wheel whose jokes got more desperate as the years of solitude piled on to the point they stopped inviting me anywhere.
I so didn’t want to be that guy.
“Besides,” I chirped to the room to lift the mood, “what kind of girl would tie my free spirit down?”
Chaos looked at some papers on his desk. “I have a feeling I know.”
I sat forward with interest. “Oh, yeah?”
Nico gave a snort that he wasn’t about to let be a laugh. “Look at him. Mad keen.”
“Why don’t you shut up and go sort out your desktops?” I shot back.
Nico looked at me with death glares. “Like I need more work to do. Thanks,” he huffed sarcastically before turning on his heel and walking out.”
“As I was saying,” Chaos said before I could make a well-timed quip about Nico. “Tank’s got a hard case.” He pointed at me. “Don’t.” I smirked and Chaos fought a return smile. “Nora Curry.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why. “What about her? Who is she?” If they told me she was Tank’s new squeeze, I was going to lose it. Now didn’t seem like a new squeeze announcement, though.
“The bassist for Valjean,” Tank said roughly. I could tell just what he thought about her from those four words.
I looked between them and felt my mouth drop open. “No…” I breathed. “Tank’s VIP is One-Night Nora?!”
We’d all had Tank’s schedule, but I’d been way too lazy to Google who was playing on those dates and no one else had cared enough.
But One-Night Nora of Valjean fame?
I felt like a little boy at Christmas who knows that the BMX he’d been desperately wishing for all year was waiting for him under the tree. Not that I’d ever found the long-awaited BMX under any tree.
Chaos nodded.
I snorted. I tried not to. I failed. “No wonder he’s having problems.”
“Miss Curry is very…strong-willed,” Tank muttered.
It wasn’t like Tank to have a cross word to say about anybody. Unless that body was me or Hawk and then we probably – definitely – deserved it.
“Miss Curry wasn’t terribly pleased that her manager hired security for her, let alone that the security who turned up was…” Chaos petered off, unwilling to even accidentally insult the gentle giant before him.
I had no such qualms. “The great big fun police?”
Tank glared at me but said nothing.
Chaos looked like he was about to say something that he really didn’t want to say. “We’ve been talking with Valjean’s manager, Miss Fern, and come to the conclusion that what Miss Curry needs is someone who can keep her under control by letting her be out of control.”
Oh, fuck the BMX. This was sounding like all my dreams come true.
I looked between them, not quite willing to believe what I thought they were saying. “So…let me get this straight. You’re firing Tank–”
“Reassigning is a better word,” Chaos interjected.
“Firing Tank,” I repeated with glee. “And you want me to take over. With a VIP?”
A wicked bubbly giggle was threatening in my chest. Hell had to have frozen over if Mr Steady And Reliable was being subbed out for little old me. And, fuck yeah, I did have a great opinion of myself.
Chaos and Tank looked at each other and Chaos nodded resignedly.
“Yes,” he finally said. “I’m firing Tank from a VIP job and replacing him with you.”
I tipped my hand at him coquettishly. “Oh, shucks. You do know how to flatter a boy.”
Chaos smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“When do I start?” I asked, looking between them.
“Today,” Tank said.
Something else dawned on me. “I’m going on tour with Valjean…”
Chaos nodded. “You’re going on tour with Valjean.”
I knew what his next words would be. I nodded subconsciously at him. “Yeah. Yeah. Face of the company. Behave and all that.”
I’d work out the details in due course. The important thing was, I was going on tour with a world-famous rock band!
3
Nora
“Why don’t we just lower him into position?” Nate said as he twirled his drumsticks in his fingers. “He’ll be starkers ‘cept for a pair of black wings and his guitar covering his bits.”
Brax frowned at his twin. “Bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”
Nate nodded. “I do think. But we’re talking about you, not me.”
“In that case,” Brax drawled. “Why don’t we get you ridin’ in on a chariot pulled by flaming peacocks?”
“Interesting imagery. Don’t think the animal cruelty thing is us. Thoughts?” Nate asked as he looked around at us.
Coop looked like he was composing some new concerto on an invisible piano.
Zach was reading a book.
That left me stupidly being the only one paying even the vaguest amount of attention to the squabbling twins.
“Nora?” Nate pressed.
“He can be naked, too,” Brax said, like that was a bonus.
When it came to the Glenn twins and a disagreement, they lost all signs of machismo and charm and turned into two little boys fighting on the playground about who could pee the furthest. If only the tabloids could see them now, they’d have a field day. But we all had baggage we wanted to keep private. Some of us more than others.
I shrugged. “I don’t care which of you is naked. It’s all the same to me.”
Which was, as intended, the worst thing to say to them.
“Just because we’re identical,” started Brax.
“Doesn’t mean we’re the same person,” finished Nate before he turned to Brax. “You know, I reckon we should use some of that footage from…”
And he and Brax went to work on revamping our backing video.
My barb had done its job. It had turned their attention away from each other and united them against me. The only way the band functioned was if the Glenn twins were united against something, rather than against each other. They were the powerhouse behind what made Valjean well…Valjean.
More often than not, I took the fall and let that something be me. I was used to putting anything and everything in front of my ego, my self-esteem, my self-worth. It had become my brand. It was who I was. Sometimes, I missed the Nora that floated around my memory in fragments. More often, I didn’t have the time or luxury to be anything other than what sold our music.
“Nora,” Emma said as she po
ked her head into the room.
Nate made the kind of ‘oo’ noise that made it sound like I was being called to the principal’s office.
I threw him a poked tongue before turning to Emma. “Yeah?”
She gave me an apologetic grimace. “Need to have a chat with you about…” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper like that was going to make it better, “your security.”
I made a good show of huffing and puffing about the unfairness of it all as I hauled myself out of my chair and followed our manager out to the corridor.
Gavin was with her. And so was a guy I recognised from a picture I’d seen on Gavin’s computer once by chance. He was another member of the Grace Grayson security team.
He was shorter than Gavin, by a long shot – but, then everyone was – with reddish-brown hair. He was well-built, not too skinny and not too muscular, and carried himself with the self-confidence of a man who knew who he was and what he was doing with his life. Had I been a suit-loving chick, I’d have swooned over the way he filled out the perfectly tailored fabric clinging to his body. He had a cheeky look to him. The kind of cheek I’d like. You could see it in the way his green eyes sparkled as he took me in as closely as I was taking him in.
“Nora, this is Ryder Andrews. He works with Gavin at Grace Grayson,” Emma told me.
“It bring your mate to work day?” I asked.
Ryder smirked and I felt an unnecessary ping of pride in my chest. This total stranger had done more to validate me than Gavin had in months of hanging out with him. I somehow knew Ryder got it. He got the sass. He got the joke. He knew where it came from and what it meant. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Ryder’s here for hand over,” Gavin said in his deep and rumbly voice.
I looked at him in confusion. I looked at Emma for explanation. I looked at Ryder mostly because I liked looking at him, but also like it’d help me understand Gavin’s words.
“What do you mean? Hand over? Me? You’re handing me over?” I asked, looking between Gavin and Ryder. “You’re quitting?” I accused Gavin.
Rollie & the Rocker (Grace Grayson Security Book 4) Page 2
