“Don’t let your brother fill your pretty little head with all this nonsense. I’d worship you like the goddess you are. It isn’t my fault you graced that cover in lacy boy shorts and a mesh shirt that left everything to my imagination. I’m a man and let me tell you.... I imagined it all. I’m a visual creature, and ma’am, you are very visual in the Maxim article. I really enjoyed the article as well. Although, I did have to memorize it because the pages began to stick together.”
“Jesus, Kip. I just threw up in my mouth a little,” I shoot back.
“You hurt my heart, lady. You hurt my heart. I stand here and bare my soul, and you rip it from my body. I really did memorize your amazing intellectual article.” He chuckles.
“Oh? Dear sir, I do apologize for my lack of couth. Please do tell me, what is your favorite part of the article?” I ask.
His face drops into a frown as he considers for a beat. The lively banter is gone. The tension coming off him now encases me.
“When the interviewer asks you how you feel about being called the Guitar Goddess all these years, you said, ‘It really is an amazing gift the fans gave me. I guess it tells me they enjoy the lyrics, music, and our band. I’ve been a musician for as long as I can remember, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. That being said, I think people often forget, even the people who know me best, that I’m human. I hurt, I bleed, I cry, and I feel just like everyone else.’ I love that you told the world you’re just a person.”
“Well, thank you, love. I’m just a girl ya know?” I thank him lightheartedly to avoid the serious turn of direction.
“If you’re done trying to get into her panties, maybe we can all head to the venue?” Jagger asks Kip.
“Carlyle, don’t get jealous. Henley has always been in love with me. Tell Jag, Henley,” Kip teases with a straight face.
Before I can retort, Koi jumps into the conversation. “Jesus Christ. She’s my sister for fuck’s sake. Do any of you ever take that into account when you talk about her like she’s a piece of meat?”
“No,” the three men say in unison .
Chapter 5
THE BUS RIDE TO the venue takes close to an hour with Atlanta traffic. Broken Access is headlining the entire tour, meaning they won’t go on stage until ten. When I toured, I always enjoyed arriving early enough to catch some of the other bands. It also gave me a chance to photograph them on stage. Koi and the guys make a habit of arriving early too. The guys are each doing their own thing on the bus. Cam and Jag are playing the Xbox. Koi is talking to his publicist on the phone, and Kip is watching Dexter. I sit down on the couch to watch TV with Kip. When the bus finally parks at the venue, the road manager, Randy, comes on board.
“Listen guys, there’s a crowd near the entrance. We’re waiting for more security staff to help walk us there. Get your pens out and get ready to sign.” He lowers his eyes to me and smiles. “Good to have you back, Hen. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”
I smile back, fighting those pesky damn tears in my eyes.
Jag pulls his shirt off, and I think my jaw hits the floor. You’d have to see Jagger in the flesh to fully appreciate all this man encompasses. I thought he was gorgeous as a teenage boy, but the man he has become has surpassed all that I could have hoped for. I think I might be drooling.
Close your mouth, Henley.
He is looking through a small closet, and each time he moves a hanger on the rack, his muscles move, and just damn. He’s lean and in great shape, amazing shape really. Covered in tattoos from neck to toe, he makes me tremble just looking at him.
Oh my, just look at those abs. I can lick all sorts of things off those: whipped cream, every flavor of syrup, ice cream, cream cheese, and icing. His dark brown hair is long enough on top to grab a handful of it. His skin has an olive complexion that would make any woman envious. You should see that skin when it’s tan during the summer. He towers over my five-feet-four inches at six feet three. He has strong arms that make you wonder just how capable a man he must be. His arms are covered in beautiful tattoos, and that muscular back would make the gods weep.
I quickly take a peek to make sure no one saw me ogling Jag. Good, they’re all busy. I better not chance it again. I hear Jag’s steps coming toward me, but I keep my head down to pretend like I wasn’t just eye fucking him.
“Stand up, woman,” he orders with a smirk on his face.
Hell, he can order me to do lots of things: bend, up, down, on me, under me, open, lick.... I digress. I do as I’m told, then he pulls a familiar-looking messenger cap from behind his back.
“You left this on the tour bus. It’s from the last tour we did together four years ago. I figured you might need it when you came back out with us again.”
He puts it over my head and adjusts my long blond hair hanging under it. His hands brush my face, causing me to quiver in my panties.
“When?” I ask with a frown
He pursues his lips in sympathy, “Yeah. When. I knew it would take you some time to feel comfortable touring again. I never knew how long, but I knew you couldn’t stay away from music for the rest of your life. Regardless of how much distance you have put between yourself and the industry, our fans were your fans first. I never forget that. They still love and want you, and they’ll recognize you in a heartbeat. You’re America’s guitar prodigy, rock-’n’-roll royalty. Just because you want to stop being the Guitar Goddess, doesn’t mean they’ll let you. When you are the President of the United States, you are always the President of the United States.” He chuckles. “We are going to have to flank you on all sides, to ensure no one catches sight of you. Unless you want them to?”
“No. I’m not ready for that, Jag,” I know my eyes plead with him.
His eyes soften. “It’s okay not to be ready. You’re on this bus, at this show... that’s big. It can’t be easy to walk away from the only thing you‘ve ever known. It can’t be easy trying to figure out who you are as a person and a musician without him.”
Koi chuckles. “If you’re done whispering sweet nothings to my sister, we can go inside now. Security is waiting outside the door.”
“I’m discussing her being noticed,” Jagger says with a little gruffness to his voice.
I guess my brother hadn’t thought of that. Hell, neither had I, but Jagger seems upset with Koi.
“She needs to be heavily surrounded by security going in. We can see about ourselves. We need to sign autographs anyway,” Jagger says.
“Most certainly not. You guys are not going out there unprotected. I, of all people, know how crazy fans can get. We need to figure something else out,” I demand.
All eyes are on me, and Randy is back on the bus, “Shit, Hen, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about this being a problem. I’ll figure something out.”
“No. She’s my sister. I should’ve been more proactive and thoughtful. Shit,” Koi runs his hands through his hair obviously frustrated. “Everybody sit still for a minute.”
Koi exits the bus.
Thirty minutes pass before Koi boards the bus again. I’m left to my own negative thoughts about being noticed and start spiraling into the clutches of my demons. I wonder why I didn’t worry about this before now. Perhaps I was too consumed with all things Jagger to think about anything else. My brain synapses don’t fire properly when he’s around.
What if someone asks me to sing or play? Until six months ago, I hadn’t picked up a guitar in years. I’ve been focusing solely on healing. I feel the panic creep up. I start a little chant a monk taught me in Germany, and focus on my breathing to stay calm.
“I got it worked out,” Koi happily announces. “Come on, guys. Let’s do it to it.”
Jagger motions for me to step in front of him. I exit the bus and follow behind the band as they walk toward the back of the bus. I’m not prepared
for what’s waiting for me. Every band and staff member on the tour is standing there, waiting. Waiting for me. If you’ve never been on tour or seen the inner workings of a tour, the number of people a musician relies on to make this happen each night is enormous. We depend on a lot of people. They make it possible for musicians to walk out on stage every night and sing and play their hearts out. I look behind me to see Jag smiling. He’s smiling at the fifty men standing in front of me. I turn back toward the men and see they have their hands on their hearts, for me.
The whole thing was started when I was fifteen. My grandfather was photographed with his hand over his heart while I played a forty-minute guitar duet with Buddy Guy on stage in Chicago. The notion stuck, and it’s how people began to show love for my music and talent. I’m moved by their overwhelming respect. I focus on my breathing again, and I simply nod my head at the crowd and offer a smile. To show respect back, I place my hand over my heart and mouth a “thank you.”
“We’re putting you in the middle of that very huge crowd. You won’t be noticed. The musicians in the group will cover the inner part closest to you so they can avoid heat from the fans. The staff will cover all the musicians. This will give us all coverage,” Koi says.
We spend a minute getting into some semblance of a circular crowd and then follow Randy to the building. Someone grabs my hand after we walk a few feet. I look up to see Jagger smiling sweetly down at me. He focuses on moving forward and getting me inside the venue. He has his serious face back on moments later. He rubs the pad of his thumb on the inside of my hand. He must be nervous about me being seen. Jag has always been sweet to me, but this is a new level of sweet.
Fuck, I like it.
We make it to the venue without much fuss. Jag keeps my hand in his. The guys still flank my sides as we are ushered into their dressing room. Once inside, I feel relief. Jag still holds my hand, and Kip looks between us with the oddest look on his face.
“Henley, if you want a real man to hold your hand, all you have to do is ask.” He crosses over to us and takes my other hand, instantly pulling me away from Jag.
I burst out laughing, suddenly remembering how much I miss Kip’s antics. “Now boys, let’s play nice with each other. I love you all.”
“Yeah, but you love me just a teeny-tiny bit more, right?” Kip asks with two fingers in front of my face.
“Bruh, are you showing her the size of your dick right now? You’re supposed to surprise women with that kinda shit, or you’ll never get laid,” Cam says.
“It’s the motion in the ocean, fucker,” Kip fires back, feigning hurt. “Isn’t that right, girl?”
He elbows me as a prompt.
“Um... Kip, you see.... That isn’t always true. Sometimes you have to possess a big enough boat to make waves before the motion becomes relevant.” I pat him on the cheek, and he puts on his best, shocked face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie.”
“See, she called me sweetie. I’m sweet. At least I have that going for me, right?” He looks down at me with big puppy-dog eyes.
“Yes, you most definitely have that going for you,” I say with another pat.
“Stop trying to get in my sister’s pants,” Koi yells.
“Hell, I would prefer if she just wouldn’t wear any—easier access and all,” Jagger says with a shit-eating grin on his face.
I think I’m fucking blushing.
Thankfully, my parents enter the room and take all attention off of me. My mom and dad are carrying a suitcase. They hug each of the band members and a few roadies who are in and out of the room.
My dad pulls me into a hug and whispers in my ear. “I’m proud of you, Hen. You will find your happiness back on the road with your camera in hand. Maybe you will even find your way back to the music.”
On the road? What the hell?
I pull back from my dad’s hug a bit and look him in the face.
“Dad, what are you talking about?” I must’ve said it harsher and louder than I meant to, because Kip, Cam, Mom, Jag, and Koi attempt to exit the room, in that order.
“Get your conniving asses back in here!”
They all stop, turn and look at me. Oh, someone is about to get the ass-kicking of the century. So, this is what a setup looks like. I look around at the faces to see who the guilty culprit is. Their faces tell me they’ve all played a part in this scheme. Jag has the guiltiest face of all, though. Hmm.
“Everybody out except Koi and Jag,” I order.
My dad kisses my cheek and pats Koi and Jag on the shoulders. He knows the tongue-lashing they are about to get is going to be extremely unpleasant. Once everybody exits, I find the table that holds alcohol in the corner of the room. I down a beer in a few seconds. That should take the edge off.
“What in the hell do you two think you are doing?” I spit at them.
It looks as though they’re both hoping the other would speak first.
Pussies.
“Henley, this is between you and me. I did this,” Jagger says.
Koi takes that as his cue and promptly exits the room.
“Jag, what the fuck? You can’t bully me into going on tour with you. I have a life. I have appointments all over the country to photograph clients. I can’t just stop everything because you tell my mom to pack a bag. What were you thinking? My dad has his hopes up that this will lead to some miraculous return of me to the music scene. Why would you do that to me?”
Jagger doesn’t answer me. He stares at me, and he seems to be choosing his words carefully. He takes a few steps toward me and stops. He doesn’t speak immediately, but instead lets out a big sigh.
He frowns and gives me puppy-dog eyes.
Shit. When he gives me those eyes, what in the hell am I supposed to do? Kiss him? Perhaps. Bad idea.
Focus.
He tenderly touches my face again.
You see this recurring theme too, right? Or, am I just imagining all these intimate touches? I really need to get laid.
“I miss you, Henley. I just... shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I just know we all need you. We grew up together, and I saw you almost daily from the sixth grade forward. I’ve barely seen you in four years. I guess I feel like I lost you too when we lost Caleb, and I selfishly tried to force you back into my life the way I want you in it. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
He takes my hands and places them on his chest.
Fuck me.
“Fine. But next time, how about asking what I want? Let me know what plans you have for my life, yeah?”
“Does this mean you are going on tour with us?” he asks hopefully, with my hands still on his chest and a gleam in his eye.
“Jesus.” I realize then that I’ve had some moments of genuine happiness, some moments of me, in the last few hours. “Yeah, I guess I will go for a bit. I miss you guys too. I really do,” I reply.
“My reasons may not be good enough for what I did, but they’re all I have. I should be sorry that I went behind your back to get you on tour with us, but I’m not because it worked. Now I get to spend every day with the girl I grew up with. The girl I had my very first crush on.”
“Crush?”
Yes, that is the only part of the conversation I can focus on at this very moment.
“Really, Hen? You didn’t know?” he asks in genuine shock.
“No. How was I supposed to know? You never gave me the slightest hint. You never told me.”
“Jesus. I was scared to death to be around you. Your life in middle school was already bright lights and guitars. Your family is well known in our parts, and you intimidated the shit out of me. I was a teenage boy who got wood if the wind blew the right way. If you walked into a room, I had to sit down and hide it. When I met your brother and started the band in the ninth grade, I
was hoping I would get close enough to you. By the middle of tenth grade, you were homeschooled and recording your own album. You were so out of my league it wasn’t even funny,” he says with a chuckle.
I say the only thing I can think of to break the ice and hide my own embarrassment. “So, which is your favorite magazine cover?” I give him my best sexy grin ever.
He throws his head back and laughs a big, boisterous laugh, but sets his crystal-blue eyes back on me, and they are serious and heated. “Spin Magazine. The only thing covering the bits every man alive wants to see is a 1964 Gibson. You had a cigarette hanging in one hand, and a sleeve of tattoos on your arm. Your right leg is bent, and your foot is in front of the guitar holding it in place, while your left leg is laid out for inviting eyes to only imagine the unknown. But my pages aren’t sticky. I bought five copies, that way I always have at least one memorabilia edition.”
It’s my turn to burst out laughing. That cover is one of my favorite shoots ever. I felt like the sexiest woman alive.
I can’t believe he had a crush on me. Oh, the things I wish I’d known when I was sixteen.
“And now I have my own cover for eye candy, Mr. Sexiest Man Alive,” I tease.
“And none of it changes a damn thing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Before he can answer, a roadie enters the room and requests his presence in another part of the venue.
Chapter 6
I WALK DOWN THE back halls of the venue and then to the backstage area. This walk is always my favorite. You walk toward your screaming fans, toward doing the one thing that matters most in life—playing music. I follow behind everyone else with the band at the front of the crowd. All the parents are here following behind their sons, and then the roadies, technicians, and other staff follow suit. I follow behind the group with camera in hand. I hear someone walking behind me and turn to look as I feel a presence getting closer. I’m yanked into a side room. Instantly, I smell Jagger, and know he’s the culprit. When I look around the room, the members of Resin are sitting around a table. I hate that I missed their show. I really love their music. Shaun, the front man, isn’t hard on the eyes either.
Broken (The Guitar Face Series Book 1) Page 5
