Hinder (An Off Track Records Novel)

by Kacey Shea

  Trent belts out the first line and I swear the screams from the crowd increase to meet the volume of the music. My ears ring and I jump as something touches my knee. I glance down.

  Bedo’s holding out his hand, and his open fist contains two bright yellow ear plugs. He’s not even looking at me. His other hand grips his cell and he’s typing out what looks to be an email with only his thumb. He glances up and juts his palm closer. “Take them.” He mouths the words.

  “Thank you,” I murmur even though there’s no way he can hear, not with the same yellow plugs protruding from his ears. It almost feels like cheating the experience, to put up a barrier to the sound, but as soon as I slide them in I realize it doesn’t block the music completely.

  Stage lights illuminate the band with the bridge of the chorus and my gaze immediately draws to Austin. He’s hard not to watch. My Lord, the way his fingers run up and down those steel strings floods heat to my skin. His long fingers move with skill and a practiced precision that causes me to squeeze my thighs together. My mind conjures all the illicit ways he’s no doubt able to use those fingers. Dirty visions only skyrocket the moment he steps up to a mic and joins in to sing backup vocals. Rock stars? Sexy. But a rock star who also sings? Guard my ovaries, because right now if he asked, I’d so have his babies.

  You’re going to hell.

  Shame washes over me, and guilt instantly replaces my naughty thoughts. I shouldn’t objectify him. He’s working. This is his career. I force my eyes not to follow as Austin struts toward the edge of the stage and screaming fans. At the crash of a cymbal, I glance back to Leighton.

  Sweet Jesus.

  My skin prickles with a rush of awareness as I study the changes to his appearance. Gone is the clean-cut boy. He still looks like a model, but with the black eyeliner and tousled dark hair—the ends practically begging to be touched—he is every bit the rock god he plays on stage. A pang of longing and lust flood my veins.

  I’d have his babies, too.

  What is wrong with me? I spend one day on this tour and I’m ready to throw my virginity out the window? Not that I’m holding on to it forever or until marriage, but I am waiting for someone special. Someone who values and respects me; who treasures what I’ve spent so many years protecting.

  Reality check. It’s neither of those men on stage.

  A quick glance out to the thousands of screaming fans only confirms that thought. There’s no way I could compete with any of this. I don’t know how Lexi does it. Actually, I do. She exudes a confidence I’ve never had. That and the fact she’d cause permanent bodily harm if Trent even dreamed of cheating. Still. I don’t know how she can share him with the world.

  Point in case, he takes the break between songs to peel off his sweat-soaked shirt, much to the screaming adoration of concert attendees. Even with the earplugs I can feel the reverberation of applause. Yeah, I don’t know that I’d be okay with that. My boyfriend on-stage half naked for others to ogle and fantasize about?

  And how hypocritical is that, since moments ago I was doing the very thing while admiring Leighton and Austin.

  But they don’t have girlfriends. At least none that I know of. That thought grants me some absolution for my lust-filled thoughts. I was raised better. I shake my head and try again, this time fully intending to only admire their musical talent.

  Rough. Hard hitting. Sensual. So, so good. Austin turns, swiping his fingers across the strings and lifts his chin as he walks to this side of the stage. For one measly second his stare meets mine and that’s all it takes for my body to react.

  How am I going to survive an entire summer of this? I need more than a PA job to keep me distracted.

  In fact, that’s a great idea. I unbuckle the snap to the leather bag hanging across my chest and retrieve my phone. Now’s a perfect time to work. For the next hour I clean, sort, and organize the emails in Trent’s inbox. I don’t look up once. Okay, so I steal glances whenever my resolve wanes, but I’d dare anyone in my place to do better.

  The lights fade at the conclusion of their final number and I suck in a breath as they all strut off stage—in my direction. I shove my cell into my bag and brace myself for the wall of sweaty sexy men. Seriously? Could one of them be ugly? I feel wrong looking at Trent, especially with his shirt missing, but his is the safest set of eyes to focus on so I do that.

  “You like the show?” He grins, his lips pulling up more on one side as he catches a towel from one of the stage assistants and wipes his face.

  “Y’all were great.”

  “Just great? Come on, Opal, you’re breaking my heart.” Austin squeezes by Trent and drops a kiss on the top of my head.

  Trent’s eye ticks with irritation, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Bedo garners Trent’s attention, turning so that I can’t read either of their lips.

  “Y’all were more exciting than a night of cow tippin’.” I raise my brow and meet Austin’s gaze, careful not to drag my eyes over his chest and all the ink that trails his skin.

  He bursts into laughter—my intent. “You’re too much, you know that?”

  Before I respond with a clever comeback, his attention is stolen by a group of fans. I never once looked up from my phone or away from the stage during the show, but there must be over a dozen other people gathered to this side of the stage. Everyone wears a special badge, some labeled press, and every single woman is dressed to impress. High heels, perfect hair, curves on display and lots of exposed skin.

  I glance down at my boots, feeling awkward and out of place. The crowd continues to chant from offstage, demanding an encore, while the guys chat it up with people I should probably know or get to know as Trent’s assistant.

  “Hey.” The nudge of a leather jacket against my arm lifts my gaze. Leighton, the transformed rock god who looks sexy and sinful and straight from the devil’s lair parts his lips, lifting the edges with the hint of a smirk.

  “Hey.” It’s the only response I can manage. I’ve never been one to find a guy with eyeliner attractive, but it’s working for Leighton, especially with the way his hair twists forward over his brow in a mess. I clench my hands together at the impulse to brush it back with my fingers.

  “Fuck, it’s hot.” He swears and stretches the collar of his jacket and shirt combo away from his neck. The lights on stage must be worse than the sun. I glance at the other guys who all ditched their shirts a few songs into the show and are sweating all the same.

  “Maybe you should take off your shirt?” I shout above the blur of chanting fans.

  His lips quirk up with his grin. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

  Um, yeah I would. My mouth drops open but nothing coherent comes out. I’m embarrassed, not just from the heat that travels over my skin, but also by how uncool I am. “I mean, sure, but only if you’re comfortable with partial nudity.” Lord, could I sound more idiotic?

  He lifts his brow expectantly.

  “Not that you shouldn’t.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but his full attention only jumbles my nerves. He’s so handsome. “I mean, I wouldn’t go topless in front of thousands of people . . .”

  His eyes light with something more than humor and I swear the look goes straight between my thighs.

  I want to look away; I need to unless I’m prepared to melt into a puddle of goo. But I can’t. He’s beautiful. Seriously beautiful, and the way he’s looking at me, with total and complete attention as if I’m the most desirable woman in this crowd of thousands, as if I’m someone special, it does something to my heart. The parts of myself I hide and keep safe splinter under his stare and I swear in this moment I’d do anything he asks.

  “Encore, kid.” Sean breaks our connection with a slap to Leighton’s back, and he swaggers back on stage. The crowd erupts in a frenzy as Sean picks up his bass and fastens the strap across his chest.

  Austin’s next, his strut lazy and sensual all the way over to his guitar.

  I expect Leighton to follow s
uit, especially when Trent calls him over to the edge of the stage, but instead he glances around, a line of worry etched into his brow. “Fuck it,” he mutters under his breath and meets my stare as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Can you hold this?”

  “Sure,” I say but I’m already gripping the leather in my hands as I get an up close and personal view of Leighton stripping out of his sweat-soaked T-shirt.

  Sweet Jesus.

  His abs are a religious experience. All smooth skin over ridges of muscle, and the way his bones protrude at his hips? They’re practically begging to be followed past where they disappear into his jeans and straight for the bulge straining against the fabric at the front.

  What is wrong with me? I’m staring at his package. His very impressive package. My eyes are practically glued to it. Look away! I scream the words inside my head but my body takes much longer to react.

  By the time my gaze travels up his chest and back to his eyes, he’s staring back, a slight smile on his lips. “I should . . .” He doesn’t finish his thought, but turns and jogs back to the raised drum set on stage.

  Thank goodness, too. My cheeks burn with the heat of my blush and I can’t imagine what I could say to him, more than making an even bigger fool of myself.

  At the swell of the crowd’s screams, Leighton counts off the beat and leads the band into a variation of The Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction.” It’s as if they read my mind. Dear Lord. Get me through the rest of this night in one piece, and the rest of the tour—specifically without throwing out my morals in exchange for an irresistible rock star.

  12

  Leighton

  High as a kite. Soaring higher than a plane. That’s how it feels playing for thousands of screaming, singing, amazing fans, and I haven’t taken a damn thing. The natural buzz reverberates and courses through my veins with an unmatched energy even after we hop off stage.

  I’m already addicted.

  “You did good tonight, kid.” Austin tips his chin with a compliment that shouldn’t mean so much considering I’ve only known him a few days.

  “Thanks. That was . . . fuck.” I run my hand along the nape of my neck as the realization hits me. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had playing.” I’ve performed on some of the most prestigious stages in the world, and yet none produced the level of joy pulsating from my soul right now.

  “Not bad, huh?” Austin slings his arm around my shoulder and we shuffle in tow with the rest of the band toward the bus.

  “Is it always that . . . powerful?”

  “You get used to some of this . . .” He juts his finger over his shoulder before turning to wave at the crowd of fans not twenty yards away.

  “I love you, Austin Jones!” a woman shouts, thankfully from behind the gate. That’s one thing I have to appreciate. The tour has been managed down to every little detail, including precautions for our safety. The obsessive fans are slightly terrifying, and I get the feeling they’d maul any one of us if given the chance.

  He lets loose a chuckle and walks us forward. “The crazy. You get used to the crazy. But on stage it doesn’t matter how many times or how many places we play, it’s always good. Humbling, considering it wasn’t that long ago we played dive bars for free beer.”

  They’ve done all the heavy lifting, and I’m here enjoying the harvest. That can’t be easy. It’s no secret Three Ugly Guys has struggled over the years to keep a drummer. I’m damn lucky to be here. Okay, maybe luck doesn’t have everything to do with it. A little eavesdropping mixed with a little blackmail is more like it. But there’s nothing wrong with playing dirty if no one gets hurt.

  “You ladies coming? Or you gonna chat out here all night?” Trent calls to us from the open bus door.

  “Fuck you!” Austin hollers, but there’s no trace of anger in his words. Only a sense of comradery and brotherhood. A strange pang of jealousy twists in my gut. I’ve never been one to want something I don’t have. Mostly because I get whatever I want. But money can’t buy their kind of friendship, and it’s something I’ve never had. Or ever will.

  My uncle sits at the table inside the bus, and his eyebrows rise a tick as I step inside ahead of Austin. I wasn’t self-conscious with my shirt off on stage, but one look from him and I suddenly am. Appearances are important, and he’s told me over and over how absolutely un-rock ’n roll I am, and to do whatever the wardrobe team asked. But it was hot as hell on that stage.

  Austin plops into one of the recliners and slaps his stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “Good show tonight.” My uncle sets his cell down on the table and meets Trent’s stare. “Opener needs work. I’ll talk to them before I head back to LA.”

  “Not gonna ride along for our next stop?” Trent’s lips pull into a smirk as he leans against the opposite wall, next to where Opal sits in a chair. It takes everything in my willpower not to stare at her legs or how high up that modest dress rides over her crossed legs.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Bedo shoves to his feet and grabs his phone. “You don’t need a babysitter.”

  Sean coughs. Austin fights laughter. Trent holds his smirk.

  I’m missing something here.

  “Three hours ’til the buses roll out.” Bedo stops at the door, turning to point and glare at each of us a long second. “Don’t be late.”

  As soon as he’s out the door Trent walks over to the kitchen and grabs a water from the fridge.

  “I’m gonna make a call.” Sean nods at Trent. “Cool if I use your room?”

  “As long as you don’t jerk off in there, knock yourself out.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll use your pillow to wipe my hands.” Sean chuckles, then ducks as Trent hurls the water bottle at his head.

  I turn to Austin. “What do we do for three hours?”

  “Eat and party, my man.” Austin digs around in his bunk and retrieves a change of clothes. “And if you’re lucky, food won’t be the only thing you eat tonight.” He sticks out his tongue and waggles it for everyone to see.

  My gaze goes to Opal. I can’t help myself. The blush that works up her cheeks as she stares at the floor only fuels my interest. How did such an innocent thing end up working for these guys?

  “Austin. There’s a lady in our presence,” Trent practically growls and I quickly look away before I’m busted for staring.

  “Sorry.” Austin shrugs, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. If anything, he looks pleased with himself. “Opal, you’re coming, too. Right?”

  Her eyes dart to Trent’s and then back to the floor where she scuffs the sole of her boot beneath the chair legs. “Nah, y’all have fun. I’m going to enjoy the quiet while I can.”

  Austin shrugs, not looking all that disappointed at her answer. “I get first,” he says and heads down the hall toward the bathroom for a shower.

  Trent rakes a hand through his hair and turns to Opal. “You know, Lexi used to stay back, too. The first tour we did together.”

  “Really?” Opal sits up with an eagerness that lights the brightness of her eyes. A smile takes over her face, and it strikes me as odd that she’d care so much about what Trent’s girlfriend used to do on the road. Her gaze flicks to mine and her smile dims.

  Shit. She caught me staring. I pretend to look busy, shuffling through the storage cabinet to retrieve a set of clean clothes, but I’m unable to help myself from studying their interaction.

  She glances at Trent as he kicks back in one of the chairs.

  “It must be a woman thing.” She says the words slowly.

  He nods, his gaze lingering a long moment on her face before he reaches for his cell.

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing, wishing we had two showers, or that Austin would hurry the hell up. I’m hungry, and the energy buzzing through my body has nowhere to go. If I were back home I’d find a drum set to beat it onto, or use the piano if my mom were home. Mom and Dad. I haven’t thought of them since yesterday and only because they shut off my phone. A pang of gu
ilt wedges its way into my head for not being a better son. It should bother me that I haven’t spoken to them. Or that they haven’t tried to reach out, but it’s the opposite. All I feel is relief and a rampant sense of freedom. For the first time in my life I can be whomever I want. I can do what I want and I don’t have to hide a damn thing.

  My gaze travels back to Opal because she’s most definitely wedged her way onto the list of things I want.

  “Who’s next?” Austin bursts down the hall wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.

  “I’ll go.” I raise my hand but no one pays attention.

  “Put some fucking clothes on,” Trent says without hardly looking up from his phone. “We all know you’re full of yourself.”

  “Sorry.” Austin winks at Opal, forcing her pale cheeks to a bright shade of pink. He tugs his jeans over his hips, leaving the fly open before strutting across the bus. He sits right in her lap and kisses the top of her head. “Sure you don’t want to join us, sweetheart?”

  The fuck? My gaze narrows at their closeness. Are they together? No. No way someone so beautiful and sweet is with a playboy like him. She’s not a casual fuck kinda girl. It’s written in the way she carries herself and how she blushes at everything.

  He murmurs something in her ear and instead of pushing him away she giggles, her cheeks flaring again. Fucking Austin. I have no reason for it, but jealousy churns in my gut at their closeness.

  “Dude, you going or what?” Trent says.

  “Jesus.” I snap out of staring at the couple, a tinge of envy making me more irritable than I should be. “Give me five.”

  “I’ll go invite Everlyn.”

  “Wait, who? And more importantly, is she hot?” Austin cocks his head at Trent.

  “The band who opened for us, dumbass. Two dudes and a chick. And I’m pretty sure she’s taken . . . and too young for you.” Trent raises his brows, a warning to Austin that I personally agree with. Trent pops off his chair and struts outside.