by Clara Bayard
But even with everything so weird, we all settled into our rhythms. Drive-sleep-show. Eat-drink-interview. And, perhaps, the strangest thing of all, Rick and I were growing closer than ever. I’d expected him to run from me. To go back to monosyllabic grunting and snapping. Instead, he kind of moved in.
My bus was a haven for him, somewhere he didn’t have to worry about or watch the anger that seemed to be tearing his band apart. And, of course, I welcomed him. Because he needed it, and because, at first, I liked it.
One night we were running late and heading over the border to California. I was in the back room, answering fan messages. Once the film crew actually got a video of me up on the website I was bombarded with more messages than I could have imagined. Mostly good ones, too. Adults who remembered me from King of Hearts, kids who had never heard of it. Girls who wanted to sing, guys who wanted to ask me out on dates. I got a little of everything, and was happy to answer them in my downtime. Someone on the site reviewed them first, through a process I didn’t listen to when it was explained, but I still got a ton of them. It had become a ritual. Once everyone was settled in, I’d spend an hour or so writing back, winding down after the show.
While I was in the middle of telling a girl from outside Chicago how long it took to learn how to play the guitar, Rick came in and shut the door behind him. I looked up and smiled at the sight of him – and the sixer of beers in his hand.
“How’d you get back here without those being stolen?”
“I created a diversion,” he explained, sitting down on the bed next to me.
“What kind of diversion?”
“Told the twins Derek is a better gamer.”
“Oh god.” I groaned, still smiling. “They’ll be playing video games all night now.”
“At least.”
“Anyone see you slip back here?”
“Just Janine, but she wasn’t really paying attention. What’s going on with her?”
I opened a beer and took a long drink. “Hell if I know. She dyed her hair and is acting a little weird. But there’s a lot of that going on lately.”
Rick nodded and cracked open a beer too, setting the rest down on the floor. “No shit. Look, thanks for letting me ride with you guys.”
I rubbed his thigh. “No problem. Don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like having you around.”
He grinned. “It’s our secret. You don’t think the guys know anything’s going on between us?”
“Nah. They’re oblivious to everything.” It was true, and in a good way. The twins, Derek and Brian, played guitar and bass, respectively. They were incredibly talented and friendly, but had spent enough time being session musicians and backing up solo acts that they could tune out pretty much anything, and knew better than to get too involved in someone else’s business. Fred, the drummer, was a little more outgoing, but he spent every free minute eating. Unless Rick and I tried to steal some of his food, he probably wouldn’t notice we spent any time together at all.
“Good,” Rick said, interrupting my musing. “The last thing this tour needs is more drama.”
“No kidding.” I tapped out the last bit of my message and shut my computer. “So, did just you come back here to bring me beer, or do you want something?”
His lips curled in a smirk that sent bolts of desire shooting through my entire body.
“Well, you know I always want something from you.” Rick’s hand snaked around my ankle, pulling my leg around his hip.
“Down boy,” I said, placing my free hand on the granite flat of his chest. “No sex on the bus.”
“You and your rules, Julia. I thought you were an independent free spirit?”
“I am. But not enough of one to risk having someone walk in on us.”
“You’re no fun,” he growled, nipping at my neck.
His stubble tickled my throat and I giggled softly.
“We’re hoteling it tonight, right?”
I pushed a hand up the back of his t-shirt. “Supposed to. But we’re an hour behind schedule, so who knows.”
Rick’s fingers danced over the neckline of my shirt. “You better stop that or I’m gonna make you break you rule.”
“As if you could.” I shifted position and straddled him, resting my beer on his shoulder. “You’re not nearly as irresistible as you think, buddy.”
He groaned as I slid our bodies closer together. “Maybe not, but you are, sweetheart.”
I smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I know.”
He chuckled. “And you call me cocky.”
“That’s the least of the terrible things I call you, Rick.”
“I know.” He slid the tip of his ice-cold beer across my back, over the strip of bare skin between my shirt and pants, making me shiver.
I was reconsidering my no sex on the bus rule when someone knocked on the door. Rick tossed a heated glance my way before lifting me off his lap and heading over to open it.
Janine came in, talking loudly over her shoulder. “Quit arguing and be nice, you two. Or if you’re going to bitch at each other, do it up front to entertain everyone.” She arched an eyebrow and plopped down on the bed next to me, snagging my beer in the process.
“Hey!”
Voice lower, she grinned. “The price you pay for my help covering your torrid affair.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. What do you want?”
“You both left your phones up front in the chargers. We all got a text, figured you’d want to know.”
“What’s up?”
“They’re letting us crash. Found a hotel with enough space on the way down. It means we’re gonna have to get up early in the morning, but we don’t have to bunk it tonight.”
“About fucking time,” Rick said from where he was leaning against the wall.
“Right. So, keep it in your pants for another hour and save me the emotional trauma.” Janine laughed and headed back out front.
Rick shook his head. “That girl is nuts.”
“She’s cool.”
“And crazy. I will never understand women.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
He glared playfully. “You’ll pay for that comment later, Julia.”
“Promises, promises.”
Even though the door was open so I couldn’t touch him, I felt so close to Rick. What had started as just a blistering sexual attraction had grown to actual affection, and I really liked it. We still spent almost all of our alone time screwing, but it was nice to be able to just hang out and have fun, even with our clothes on.
Days and miles sped by me, and by the time we got to San Francisco, I was starting to feel the first real signs of road fatigue. The fact that my mother was reviewing the next two months of the tour with me wasn’t helping at all. So many cities. Planes and bus routes. Hotels and interviews. Photo shoots and set lists. My head was swimming.
We sat in the restaurant of whatever anonymous beige hotel, making plans for the free day I’d have in Los Angeles.
“I know you want to take some time off, but there are a million requests.”
“Can we do half a day of work and a little time to relax?”
“Sure. Remember, you’re going to have downtime in San Diego too.”
“I didn’t remember that.” I took a sip of coffee and a bite of rubbery eggs.
“Don’t you look at your schedule?”
I shrugged. “Not really. It’s all the same, Laura.”
She sighed. “I know. But we’ve barely begun. You need to stay on top of things.”
I didn’t mention that part of the reason I was tired was I’d spent most of the night before on top of Rick. Granted, my mother was happy to have gross sex conversations with me, but that ranked right around getting teeth pulled or geometry on my list.
“It’s like you said. This is all new. I’ll get into the swing of things.”
“Good. You’re doing really well so far. A world of possibilities is openi
ng up for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, and actually meant it.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“A nap and then get ready for tonight’s show.”
“Fine. Don’t forget you’ve got a long list of pre-interview questions the publicity team sent over. I could take a first pass at them, if you like.”
“Mom, you can’t answer questions about my life.”
She winced at me referring to her as “mom,” and I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll get to them today.”
“Very good.” She patted at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, pointlessly. She hadn’t touched any of the food on her plate. “One more thing before you go. I’m hearing from the label that they’re unhappy with the rumors about Dream Defiled.”
“What rumors?”
“Fighting, potentially breaking up rumors.”
“Total bullshit,” I lied around the pit in my stomach. “You know how tabloid reporters are. If there’s no story they make one up.”
“Certainly. But I know you’ve gotten close with those boys. You need to make sure everything is all right.”
What the hell was I supposed to do, run a band counseling session? Take away their booze until they hugged it out? “Sure, okay. I’ll do what I can.”
“I hear the annoyance in your voice, Julia.” She leaned over and the stench of her perfume almost made me sneeze. “But remember, that group is your meal ticket. If they fall apart, everything stops.”
I grunted something noncommittal and pulled my phone out of my purse. “Gotta go, Laura. See you at the show tonight?”
My mother sighed and nodded. “Have a nice day.”
That was more than enough family togetherness for one day. I headed back up to my room, but her words echoed in my mind. I’d been trying to ignore the problems with Rick and his bandmates. It wasn’t my business and I had a million other things to worry about. But if the press was talking about it, if someone was leaking information, it could be big trouble. For all of us.
I got off the elevator one floor early and headed to Rick’s room. To be reassured or to reassure, I didn’t know.
He opened the door, glowering. He shook his cell phone to indicate he was on a call, so I didn’t say anything. He shut the door behind me as I went over to sit on the bed. Rick followed, but ended up standing by the window.
“So cancel it,” he said gruffly into the phone. “If they can’t get their shit together we should wait.” He paused for a while, listening. “That’s fucking stupid. There are a hundred people in charge of figuring out how to keep us from looking like assholes. Make them do their jobs so I can do mine.”
I raised my eyebrows and crossed my legs.
Rick ended the call and threw his phone down on the table. It skidded across the lacquered surface and fell off the edge onto the rug.
“Bad time for a visit?”
He grunted and ran his hand over his short hair a few times. “I’m sick of this shit.”
“Come sit down. Tell me what happened.”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it. Or think about it. Or know about it at all.”
I smiled. “Then come over here anyway and let me take your mind off your problems.”
“My problems?” He balled his hands into fists and frowned deeper. “None of this is my fault.”
“Hey.” I held my hands up. “That’s not what I meant.”
Rick sighed. “I know. Look, I’m in a real shit mood right now. I need to blow off some steam.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Of course it is.”
I bristled at his tone. “What?”
He thumped his fists lightly against the window. “What happened, fight with your mom? Worried about a show?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“You came here to distract yourself from something. Don’t pretend you’re here to see if I’m okay.”
I stood up and crossed my arms. “Where the hell is this coming from? You just said you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m trying to be agreeable.”
“Yeah, that’s you, Julia. Miss Agreeable,” he scoffed.
“Okay, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but if you want to yell at someone, try your immature bandmates instead of me.”
Rick stalked over to me, face full of fury. “Don’t talk about my fucking band. You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know Joe and Dex are at each other’s throats. And all four of you are falling apart for no good reason at all. Maybe if you all spent a little more time working and less time acting like a bunch of emo bitches the tour could be about more than the delicate egos of Dream Defiled.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Julia, so you should just shut up.”
I threw up my hands and stomped over to the other side of the room. Being close to him was just making me furious. “Bullshit. I know you’re all acting like a bunch of babies who need to grow the fuck up. You want to ruin everything? Cancel the rest of the tour? What happens to the rest of us? What are we supposed to do while you implode?”
“Excuse me?”
“Right, I’m sure you never thought about that at all. Grumpy tough guy doesn’t care. All of you can be pissy and unprofessional and sloppy and drama queens. Not everyone on this tour has that luxury.” I was steaming mad. Once again he was taking shit out on me and I’d had enough.
“Uh-huh.” He turned to face me. “Here we go again. Today’s episode of how the world is letting Julia Clark down. Getting in the way of her well-earned rise to stardom. Well fuck you very much. You’re not the only one whose career is on the line here. You think I like watching my guys go at it? You think we don’t feel the pressure?
“Hell, pressure is why this whole thing is falling apart. Joe is stressed and exhausted and feeling stifled. Dex is trying so hard to keep it together his head is about to explode. Matt and I are doing everything we can to keep them from murdering each other which doesn’t leave a hell of a lot of time for anything else. And we’re still making it work on every fucking huge-ass stage every night. So don’t come in here and act like you’re the only one getting fucked over if this crashes and burns.
“You act like headlining is the easy job. But we take the blame if we fuck up. We’re the ones who get dropped by the label and never get another deal again. We’re the ones who’ll end up flat broke if we can’t fulfill our contracts.
“So I’m so sorry if I don’t have time to worry about how all of this is affecting you.”
A part of me was shamed by his words. I had mostly been thinking of myself. But I had to. No one else was looking out for me as anything but a paycheck, even my own mother. And I thought Rick understood that. But clearly he didn’t. I felt like an idiot, thinking we had something special. That we got each other. When it came down to it, I was on my own. And no matter what feelings I might have for him, I wouldn’t take my eyes off the prize. I’d scraped and crawled my way to where I wanted to be and wasn’t going to go back now.
“Fuck you, Rick. None of that is my fault. Don’t act like I did something to you. You’re the one who’s been hiding on my bus. Using me to keep from worrying about all this. We may have fun together, but I don’t work for you and I’m not a toy. You can’t just play with me when you feel like it and then put me back up on the shelf.”
“Me? You’re the one who acts like I’m nothing but a walking sex toy for you to ride when you want.”
“I do not.”
“You do. And hell, most of the time I don’t mind. But for someone who whines that no one really cares about her, you don’t act like you care about anyone else either. How do you expect people to open up to you when all you think about is business?”
“I don’t. I don’t expect anything from anyone. My first impression of you was right. You’re a heartless, selfish bastard and I’m sorry I ever let you in my bed.” And my heart. But the
last I didn’t say aloud. Couldn’t admit to him.
“Well, then what are you doing in my room if I’m so terrible?”
We glared at each other across the bed. It might as well have been miles wide.
“Nothing. Leaving.” I shook my head and walked out, slamming the door behind me.
FIVE
Two days later I was in Los Angeles and almost too busy to think about Rick at all. Almost. It was hard to pretend he didn’t exist when we drove by a billboard of him and the rest of Dream Defiled. And their faces were on television and in magazines. So even when there wasn’t a show and I didn’t have to see him in person, he was everywhere. Hell, the damn radio I woke up to played one of their songs one morning, his strong, passionate drumbeat yanking me from sleep to the waking world.
I sat waiting for an interview to start, cursing myself silently. This is why it was stupid to get involved with him in the first place.
But before I had a chance to finish wallowing, twin nightmares entered the room. My mother and our publicist, Christine. They were accompanying the reporter from Music World, who’d be interrogating me for the next few hours. I stood and shook hands with him, nodding at the women who flanked him.
“Nice to meet you, Julia,” the reporter said. “I’m Robert.”
“It’s great to meet you too, Robert. I’m a real fan of your work.” That was a lie. I’d heard of him, of course. Robert Allen was a world renowned music journalist. Having him interview me pretty much ensured I’d get the cover story we were all hoping for. But I wasn’t a fan of any journalist. Even the good ones who don’t make up lies are there to get you to say things you don’t want to. They may not be bad people, but they’re the enemy. A necessary evil.
“Great. Well, I went over everything with your team here, so I think we’re ready to go.”
“Okay.” I gestured at the hotel room. “Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?”
