Ridge

by Scott, S. L.

  I do wonder about her and how serious it sounds, but how can I push when it’s the last thing he needs right now? I rest my head on his arm, which he moves to wrap around me. Kissing my head, he adds, “Soon, okay?”

  I nod, letting it go, though I worry how bad it must be for him not to want to discuss it at all. Strangely, I’m not hurt about his choice here. If there was one thing I learned from having three Crow boys as brothers, it’s that men do not naturally open up about things that concern them. They internally process before they speak. So, this isn’t rejection from Dave. This is his processing, and I’m good with that. Good with him.

  * * *

  When the private plane lands, I’m put in a car to take me to the next airport. As tired as Dave seems, he rides with me. Leaning his head back on the seat, he says, “This is the first time we’ve been alone in a long time.”

  “We were alone in the room.”

  “But still surrounded by so many people just a stone’s throw away.”

  Eyeing the driver in the front of the SUV, I say, “We’re not so alone now.”

  The privacy glass rolls up, and Dave moves closer. “How about now?”

  Charming bastard. “How much time do we have?”

  “Plenty, but let’s steal some more.” He pushes a button and says, “Take the long way to LAX.”

  With a laugh, I add, “You’re so bad.”

  “But so good for you. We’ve got thirty minutes.”

  I’ve never wished to get stuck in traffic before now. “Better get started then.”

  * * *

  I’ve never used this entrance to LAX, but that no cop is rushing us to leave makes me happy. It gives me a few extra minutes to shed the tears that refuse to hide inside.

  The pads of his thumbs are rough, but he’s so gentle that I barely feel him as he runs them over the tops of my cheeks. “Don’t cry, sunshine. We’ll have another day.”

  “I want it now and weeks after that.”

  “A month won’t do. I’m going to need you for a year just to count the colors in your eyes. Don’t be fooled, green doesn’t come close to covering what I see when I look at you.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Emerald and sea, thyme and spring, waterfall and moss, ocean and earth. I can go on about all the greens that make up who you are to me.” This beautiful man and his gift in words. It’s no wonder he writes incredible lyrics. They’re from his soul . . . a soul I’m falling in love with.

  Holding my cheeks, he brings me in and kisses the top of my head as I cry against his shoulder. He whispers, “I don’t do well with your tears, sweetheart. Leave me with a smile.”

  He continues to rub my back as I struggle to pull myself together. This time, I dry my tears and take a deep breath before sitting up. I know I look a mess, but I’ll try my best to give him what he needs. A smile. “We haven’t talked much about the future, mainly because of me. But I need you to know that wherever you go in the world, I want you to come back to me.”

  Eliciting the smile I love to see the most, the one I only see when he smiles at me, he melts me to the seat. He kisses my cheek, and with his lips still pressed to my skin, he says, “I promise.”

  With that promise, I turn and push the door open. The driver is standing on the curb with my suitcase. That’s when I see the paparazzi behind a thin rope barrier, cameras aimed at me. The door closes, and I don’t look back. I won’t be able to see him anyway. The glass is tinted too dark, and the driver is already pulling away.

  I drag my suitcase right past them and am led to the private check-in counter. I want to say I appreciate the red-carpet treatment I receive by association and a phone call he made, but I’d rather have him.

  I already miss him. Having spent the weekend with Dave, having had time to slowly get to know each other even more, I feel stronger in the idea of us.

  We can still connect through technology. Thank God for that. And knowing Dave, he’ll probably try to get some naughty moments in those times as well. Can’t wait. I can do this. We can do this, Fellowes. Our future counts on it.

  26

  Ridge

  “It’s bullshit, and you know it, Jet.”

  “I do know it, but what do you want me to do about it?”

  Tommy raises his hands. “Calm the fuck down. So we’re late by a couple of days. This is your fucking job, and there are plenty of other musicians who would give their dicks to have it.”

  Knudson, the manager in charge of this leg of our tour, gets a smarmy grin on his face. “Don’t sweat it, mates. I can help find some chicks to slick your dick and plenty of candy if that’s what you’re looking for. Entertainment,” he says, tapping the side of his nose, “during the delay.”

  Rivers stands, tossing his soda in the trash like he’s ready to throw down. Tommy stands and steps between them. “I think the guys are good. We’ll just head back to the hotel.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  When he walks out, Rivers kicks the backstage door closed. “He’s an asshole and needs to be fired. Why’s he calling us mates anyway? He’s from the Bronx.”

  Tommy looks annoyed. “I have no idea but forget him. Focus on New Zealand.”

  I push off the wall and walk toward the door. “No sense hanging around here. Let’s go.”

  We file into the van and stare out the windows in silence. Everyone’s pissed, but what can we do? A power outage at the stadium has the generators burning out. Two are being replaced but knowing the others might not be working in time as we were only hours away from going on, the call was made to take the open spot in three days. Luckily, Aussies are forgiving.

  “We could go on anyway,” Tulsa says, tapping his sticks against the back of the vinyl seat. “There would be enough juice to run our instruments and a few lights, the amps. That’s all we need. My platform won’t rotate, but we can still produce enough sound to give the audience the show of a lifetime.”

  Tommy says, “They’ll never let you on that stage. It’s a liability.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint Meadow.” The van goes quiet, and all eyes are on me. “What?”

  The guys break out in laughter. “Fuck,” Tulsa says, holding his gut. “It’s about fucking time, brother. Welcome to the club.”

  Rivers hits my back. “Damn, Ridge. Stella will be relieved to know it wasn’t just a weekend thing in Hawaii.”

  Jet’s just laughing, but Tommy says, “You’re fucking kidding me with this, right? You’re done for, like for good?”

  Annoyed, I say, “I’m not married.” But the words don’t feel right. Well the word “not” is really the root of the problem.

  Tommy does a double take, staring at my face. “You okay? You’ve gone pale as a ghost.”

  “Pull over.”

  “It’s the side of the highway,” the driver shouts from the front.

  I inhale through my nose and exhale slowly through the mouth. “Pull the fuck over.”

  The van swerves, and he takes an exit we were about to pass. It’s so weird exiting off the left of the freeway. Rivers asks, “What’s wrong?”

  I just shake my head. The van comes to a stop at a gas station, and I open the door as fast as I can. My heavy shoes hold me from taking off running by grounding me to a slow pace. Standing thirty or so steps away, I look up at the sky.

  We’re moving fast.

  Meadow and me.

  From nothing to everything to marriage.

  What the fuck?

  Tulsa’s the first to make his way over. “Save your jokes. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Moods. Disposition. Temperament. It’s weird how the psyche works. One day, you’re moving on in this thing called life, soaking in every minute of the day like a sponge, and then bam, someone’s put right in your way. You walk left. You walk right, but you realize it’s not about moving around them to get to your destination. They are the destination. Nikki’s my destination.”

  “I don’t need a lecture on how love
works.”

  “Funny you should mention love. I used to be with different girls every night. Had a grand ball of a good time. Never felt a thing for them when I walked away. I saw Nikki on that stage, and like so many other fuckers in that audience, I was mesmerized. She has this move where her hand goes behind her head and her hips move . . . well, let’s just say she knows how to move. So I see her up there, and then she comes down these stairs backstage like a goddess in white. I swear to God there was a halo hanging over her head. Well, we made the contact—”

  He may be rambling, but now I’m invested in the fucking story. “What ‘contact’ are you talking about?”

  “Eye contact. She gave me a look that said more than words ever could. Months later, we’re in a Vegas wedding chapel getting married.”

  “Where are you going with this, Tulsa?”

  “Destiny and destination share a common prefix, but their meanings are different. Yet I figure they’re one and the same when it comes to Nikki. As for Meadow, you’ve been fucking her like you care about her. If I find out you don’t care about her, you’re fucked.”

  When he walks off, I’m scratching my head while standing here trapped in a whole lot of what the fuck was that about thoughts.

  Tommy heads my way this time, keeping a good ten feet between us. “I had higher hopes for you, man. You’re losing it.”

  “You’re talking about me staying single, aren’t you? Not the band.”

  “Of course. You’re a badass guitar player. No one can touch you right now. But you guys keep going down for the count one by one. I’ve been here before. The Resistance. Now The Crow Brothers. Next it will be Faris Wheel.”

  Walking over to him so we don’t have to shout, I say, “Have you ever thought about settling down?”

  “I think about it, but I’m in no position to make a life with someone else when I don’t have a life of my own.”

  “What if it’s time?”

  Shoving his hand in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels. “You trying to get rid of me, Ridge?”

  “No, I’m trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

  “You might want to start by figuring out why you got sick back in the van.”

  I already know the answer to that, but he’s already walked away.

  Rivers takes his time to come over as if I need another Crow to threaten me. “Tulsa already warned me about hurting Meadow. Technically, you have too.”

  “I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to tell you that she likes you.”

  “I like her.”

  “What if she loves you?”

  “Then we’ll be on an even playing field.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he watches the traffic drive by on the highway. “What are you doing, man?”

  “Freaking out.”

  He chuckles but covers his mouth enough to appear he’s having a coughing fit. I ask, “No threats and no words of advice? I feel like I’m getting off easy.”

  “You are. But I can’t return to that van before telling you that I’ve been responsible for Stella and Meadow for a long time now. I’ve known Meadow since she was eleven. To say I’m protective wouldn’t be doing it justice. I’m not a fool, though. She’s allowed to date whoever she wants, and you’re apparently who she wants. I like you and consider you one of us, so if things go south, where do we go from here?”

  “I can’t answer that. I like her. I . . . have stronger feelings for her, but it’s new, and she’s skittish to relationships, so I’m not going to push her to make everyone else more comfortable.”

  Seeming satisfied, he nods. “I can live with that. Good luck.”

  “I’m going to need it.”

  “I was referring to Jet.”

  Looking over my shoulder. “Oh.”

  Jet files out of the van and passes Rivers as he returns. “Get in the fucking van.”

  “That’s all you came to say?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.” I follow him back to the van.

  Tommy is chuckling but stops to say, “You got your color back.”

  “I’d rather have my girl.”

  “Dahhhhh,” the guys grumble and then start laughing at me.

  Tulsa pats my shoulder. “Preachin’ to the choir, brother.”

  “Well, if I can’t have her, let’s get drunk.”

  * * *

  “You’re the best guitarist.”

  “No, you are,” I say, pushing Rivers in the arm. He falls off the back of the bench, and I stand just enough to see him land on his ass. “Damn, man. You’re drunk.”

  “You are.” He lies on the floor and then starts laughing. Lifting his head, he rubs his ass. “Fuck, that hurt.”

  “I’m going to bed,” I say, trying to stand, but man, this room needs to stop spinning so damn fast. I use the wall to steady me as I stumble my way to my room. “Where am I staying?”

  Tommy takes me by the shoulders and directs me outside the hotel room. “This way.” I walk out the door and follow the lines of the carpet as they swirl down the hall. Pulling my room key from my back pocket, I hold it to unlock the door, but nothing happens. I try again, but it still doesn’t work.

  “Shit.” I lean against the wall and try a few more times before I slide down the wall and sit on the floor. My phone falls from my pocket, and a photo of cherry cheeks shows up. I lie down next to her, remembering how good it felt to be with her in Hawaii.

  It’s only been a week or so, but it feels longer. I rest my eyes for only a second. Just one second . . . Fuck. This time change is fucking with me. I try the card once more and I get green!

  Bingo!

  I drop the card on the table just inside the door, which closes with a loud click of the lock. Stripping my clothes off, I head for the bed and land face down. Sleep is gonna find me fast, but then a ringing pulls me back from the abyss.

  “Go the fuck away.”

  When it keeps ringing, I realize it’s my phone. Fuck. Pushing up, I stumble to find my jeans, which almost landed on the couch but not quite. I dig my phone out of the back pocket and hold it to my ear. “What?”

  The ringing jacks my ear, and I jump, realizing I didn’t answer the call. Pushing the button, I say, “Hello?”

  “Hi?”

  “Ahhh, the sweet sound of my sweet girl.” I walk back into the bedroom and flop onto my back on the mattress.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Nah, not me. I’m a boice scout.”

  “Boy scout, and I’m thinking you had a few drinks by how much you’re slurring.”

  “You’ve slurved. I’m lonely. Why are you so far away, baby?”

  “A world away. I miss you.”

  Grinning like a lunatic, I reach down and adjust my balls. “I miss those lips.”

  “What do you miss about them?”

  “How they look wrapped around my dick.”

  The melody of her laugh relaxes me. Happy is the only way she should ever be. “One day, I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the universe.”

  “How are you going to do that, rock star?”

  “I don’t know, but I always keep my promises.”

  “Dave . . .”

  * * *

  “Hello?”

  “No. I need sleep.”

  The soft touch a female’s hand wraps around my shoulder. “Ridge.”

  Ridge. I fucking hate when she calls me Ridge. I take the hand and pull her into bed with me. “I’ve told you not to call me that, sunshin—” My body jerks back, and I jump from the bed. “Who are you?”

  The woman sits up with a wide smile. Smoothing her hair, she replies, “I work for the hotel, sir. I was told you weren’t responding to calls or to room service.”

  “Why would I?” I feel the air conditioning blow across my body from the vent above. Shit. Where are my jeans? I walk out of the bedroom glad I wore my underwear to bed, or I have a feeling I would’ve been seeing my junk all over the web. I
spy my jeans on the floor next to the couch in the living room. While slipping them on, I say, “I’m going to need you to leave now. You’ve done your job. All’s good.”

  She appears in the doorway, her top button mysteriously popped open. Running her hands along her tight skirt, she eyes me. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

  “I’m good. See? Alive and fine.”

  “Anything at all? Your request is my command.”

  I grab my T-shirt from the floor near the door and then look back. “Nope, no commands from me.” I head to the door.

  “Sir?”

  The tone is familiar. I’ve heard it too many times, usually with Ridge in place of sir, but it’s the same. Not turning around, I say, “I have a girlfriend.”

  “Where is she?”

  Another button’s undone when I look back. She should really find a good tailor to fix that issue. I open the door wide and step aside. With my free hand over my heart, I reply, “In here.”

  Her dark eyes stay on mine as she nods. “Very well, sir.”

  I shut the door and exhale.

  Fuck me.

  Moving back into the living room, I search for my phone. I finally find it wrapped up in the covers of the bed. Checking the call log, I see the last call I made was to Meadow. Shit. I don’t even remember talking to her.

  I call her back, but she doesn’t answer. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Hey, um. So I had a few drinks last night. We talked. I slept. Just wanted to say hi today. Call me when you get a chance.”

  Hanging up, I fall back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. My head is starting to hurt, so I guess I need to find out why room service was trying to reach me. I dial the number on the hotel phone and when they answer, the person says, “We have your breakfast ready. Would you like us to bring it back to your room or have you changed your mind?”

  I drunk ordered breakfast. That’s a first, and quite wise if I do say so myself. “Bring it on. Thanks.”

  Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. “Room service.”

  I open it and let the delivery guy push the cart in and set up. Tipping him on his way out, he says, “Thank you, but not necessary. We don’t require tips here. There’s a note next to the orange juice. Someone went out of their way to make sure you’re eating well today.”