An hour later, when I finally got the four of them into the van, I was sure we were never going to make this tour thing work. Upon dispatching them to get their stuff, Nick disappeared for a “cigarette” break and Martin ordered a pizza, insisting that we just needed to wait ten minutes. In no world does a pizza deliver in ten minutes, I don't care what the commercials say. I tried to turn the other guys against him, but suddenly Brandon and Trent thought pizza was the best idea ever, and they pleaded with me to wait until I had enough and stormed off to sit angrily alone in the van.
And by "angrily alone" I mean with a really steamy romance about a sexy playboy and the woman who had his secret love child. And, okay, I admit that my anger subsided once I got to the scene where they were finally...reunited under the stars. I mean, seriously, how often do you find a guy who owns a private ranch that you can just do it on, whenever you'd like?
The boys came crawling back to me with offerings of cheese pizza, and I relented, mostly because cheese pizza is probably the most delicious thing on the whole frickin' planet. So, we finally drove off an hour later with none other than myself at the wheel (Nick had fallen asleep, as usual. It was one of his favorite things to do after eating and smoking weed). We were minutes away from missing our sound check. I drove like a maniac, managing the six lane expressways and terribly aggressive drivers to the best of my ability. I had to hand it to myself, I did a pretty good job considering I was eating pizza at the same time.
When we arrived at The Moon I ripped the doors open to the van and hurried them out. "Come on. Each one of you grab something from the back and go, check yourselves in. I'll take care of the rest," my heart was racing furiously against my chest. I could see the line of people winding around the building and I knew we were moments away from being replaced by some awesome, prompt local band.
"But, sweetie, all that stuff is heavy..." Brandon said, his voice laced with concern.
"Just take what you can and go. Now." I said, giving him a murderous look. I knew there would be a few speakers and pieces of the drum set left over, but I could manage. It would suck, but I'd unfortunately been in similar situations before. Trent seemed to have a penchant for finding bandmates that liked ordering food more than getting to gigs on time.
"Just go," Martin said, avoiding eye contact with me. "You'll never here the end of it if you don't" he whispered.
"I heard that! Now get your asses out of here." The guys scurried off, a bleary-eyed Nick in tow behind them. I sighed at the leftover equipment, realizing more often than not I was going to be their part-time roadie. I pulled out the fold-up trolley we had and set it up, forcefully pulling at the creaky handle bar to get it upright. I wished I was strong enough to just lug speakers half my size across the parking lot, but I knew even the guys weren't and I'd have to make do with the second-hand piece of crap in front of me.
I tugged at the behemoth speaker in the trunk, getting it to budge a few inches. I realized with dismay how out of practice I was with this kind of work; studying marketing techniques all day had really done a number on my body.
“As soon as I can get this thing on the trolley, I'll be fine," I muttered, encouraging myself.
"Can I give you a hand?" came a deep voice behind me that sounded like Martin.
"I thought I told you—" I turned around to find myself face to face with some guy who was most definitely not Martin. He was tall and well built, his sexy frame covered with a tight black shirt and snug dark jeans. His hair was a deep, luxurious brown, and was combed over neatly in a pompadour that would normally make a guy look like a total try-hard, but for some reason made this guy look totally hot, like he had just fallen out of a middle-eastern remake of Grease. His eyes weren't bad either: they were a smoldering dark brown and fringed with luscious, enviably thick lashes.
"I...oh I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," I stuttered, feeling a heat spread across my cheeks. Of course, this was the day I decided to wear gray sweatpants and a shirt with pit stains that said "World’s Greatest Dad!" under my completely unnecessary leather jacket. Needless to say, I was pretty embarrassed to be myself just about then.
"Don't worry about it. It just seemed like you could use a hand," he said, flashing a brilliant smile at me that revealed a set of gorgeous dimples. I felt my knees go weak. Part of me wanted to bashfully deny his help, but the logical, managerial side of me knew the guys needed their equipment for sound check, and fast. That was the side that won out.
"You know, that would be totally amazing. I'm Bailey," I said, extending a hand. He took it and shook it firmly, giving me a slightly amused look. So sue me. I'm a business woman, even if I am really young.
"I'm Aamir," he said. "Let's get this stuff out of the van, huh? Sound check is almost over."
"Thanks so much," I said, grateful for his understanding. Together we got the speakers onto the trolley without too many issues, but I couldn’t help that I was occasionally distracted by his flexing biceps as he pulled the speakers towards his buff chest. Eventually I pulled the annoying, squeaking cart across the parking lot as he carried the remaining pieces of the drum set. I followed his lead, well aware that he knew this place better than I did.
"So," he said as we moved ourselves briskly around the building. "What do you play?"
"Piano..." I said, slightly confused by his question. "Oh! No, I'm not part of the band. I'm their manager."
"Manager, huh? You must be a pretty good one. We can hardly keep one down.”
"Hardly," I laughed. "These guys just desperately need someone to keep them from completely missing their gigs. I'm more like their professional nagger."
"We should all be so lucky to have a professional nagger that's so beautiful."
I stopped moving for a moment and the cart slammed into the back of my heel. "Oh shit!" I howled, bringing up my foot to grip it in my palm.
"Are you alright?" Aamir asked, a look of concern flashing over his eyes.
"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz. It's hardly even bleeding."
Aamir frowned, trying to get a peek at my foot. "Well they should have a first aid kit backstage. Let's get you a Band-Aid or something after you drop off the equipment."
"I...yeah," was all I could manage. My mind was still dizzy with what had caused the small accident.
'Did he really just call me beautiful? That's insane. Someone this hot cannot think I'm beautiful, that's just impossible...'
I realized that my own boyfriend had never called me beautiful. I just wasn't used to being called that; it was actually pretty ridiculous. I felt a ball of sadness well up in the pit of my stomach, rising up into my chest to grip to my heart as I thought about what Jason had said to me earlier that day. But before I had time to wallow in self-pity, I was distracted by the challenge of getting the stupid trolley in the back door without slamming it into a wall. The stupid thing was really bad with sharp turns, so I had to spend a while adjusting it to get it through the doorframe.
Inside I was immediately greeted by Brandon, who was waving his arms frantically and making a silly face as he approached me. I smiled and shook my head at the flamboyant goofball.
"Thank God you're here!" was the first thing he said, immediately followed by, "hellooo, who's this?" He swept his eyes up and down Aamir’s body and I groaned at his obviousness.
"I'm Aamir," he said, giving a polite wave and smile. It made him even hotter that he wasn't creeped out by Brandon so blatantly checking him out.
'But what if it's because he's gay?' I thought to myself, my heart sinking a little at the thought. I shook my head. It didn't matter because I was totally seeing someone.
'Yeah, someone that completely sucks.'
"Hey, let's get this stuff on the stage, huh?" I said, cutting off the nasty little voice in my brain. I turned to Aamir, giving him a grateful smile. "Thanks so much for everything, we really needed some help."
"Sure," Aamir said, returning my smile. "But you won't shake me just yet—"
"Is this the stuff for Bad Moon?" a short, older man with a twitching mustache yelled across the narrow hall, his face red.
"Yeah," I said, preparing for a scolding. But instead he just grabbed a case from Aamir and huffed down the hall.
"Let's get a move on then!" he called over his shoulder. I nodded, turning to Aamir for a last goodbye.
"Thanks again!" I called out. Brandon grabbed the other case from him and joined me in a rush to the stage. I sincerely hoped I would see him again, but as soon as I met with my boys and our myriad of equipment on the stage all thoughts of sexy boys were gone. I had to get there shit together, and quick.
"Alright, let's get the speakers set up first!" I called out, walking up to Trent to smack his hand away from the sleek guitar he was pulling out of his case.
"Ow," he mumbled.
"You'll be with Lady soon enough," I said, referring to the ridiculous name of his favorite guitar. He grumbled and joined Nick at the trolley, lifting the heavy speakers and bringing them to the front of the stage. I quickly set up the mic stands, making sure they were at the right heights and that the bits were screwed on properly, just enough to have some give.
The guys finished setting up and I finally got a chance to look around the venue and take a breath. It was bigger than I had expected, complete with a bar in the back, and a swell of nerves bubbled in my stomach. Several thousand people could easily fit in there, and Fun Aim was allegedly an Orlando favorite.
"It's huge, isn't it?" Trent said, coming up behind me. I turned around to see his anxious expression knotted in the lines between his brows.
"Yeah, and you guys are going to rock. Don't even worry about it," I said, giving him a smile.
"Thanks Bailey," he said, a smile spreading across his own, hard face that made me melt a little inside. It was that stupid cute timid smile that always turned my insides to melted butter.
"No problem. Now go get your sound checked," I said, walking by him a giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was good timing to, because the sound guy, a nervous looking kid with bright blue hair came running out onto the stage to badger the guys. I went back stage to look for a corner where I could sit and read my book just in case they needed me. I was prepared with a small emergency kit in the inside lining of my jacket filled with extra guitar picks, strings, an electric tuner, and a capo.
I was deeply absorbed in my romance even through all the jamming guitars and beating drums. Jack was about to tell Allison why he left her to begin with—but a hot make-out session got in the way. I was admittedly getting all hot and bothered myself, in a rickety tin fold-out chair, mere feet away from complete strangers and some of my closest friends, but I couldn't help myself. This story was getting steamy. Nothing in the world was going to take me out of that scene. Nothing, except a deep, melodious voice that said:
"Hey, I don't mean to bother you but—"
I looked up, and there was Aamir with a sheepish grin on his beautifully exotic face, a Band-Aid in hand. I actually dropped my book, like a big, clumsy idiot.
"Oh, hi," I said, scrambling to the floor to pick up my book. "You didn't have to get me that..." I said, a warm heat creeping over the back of my neck. I had almost completely forgotten about the little accident earlier.
"I'm going to have to disagree with you," he said, raising a finger to indicate to a spot below me. I followed his finger, and saw little drops of blood littering the dark stage floor at my feet. I groaned, completely mortified. How had nobody noticed or said anything to me? But I knew the reason was because everyone was so caught up in getting ready for the show, just like I was.
"Oh God, I can't believe I didn't notice," I said, sure that I was blushing a deep crimson by that point. My mother would call me her little "fresita" whenever it happened, which was apparently often enough that it garnered me a nickname. Aamir just laughed and offered me the Band-Aid. Our fingers brushed for a moment, and it was all I could do to keep from gasping as a shot of electricity transferred from his fingertips up through my arm.
"Must be a good book," he said, nodding down to the paperback on my lap. I suddenly wished I had some kind of electronic reading device, because the scantily clad woman and bare-chested man on the cover left little to the imagination.
"Um, just some light reading, you know," I said, turning the book over in my hands.
"Don't worry, I get it. It can get pretty lonely on the road," he said with a wink, his long, thick lashes grazing his russet cheek. My pulse quickened and my mouth went dry as a desert. Was he really suggesting what I thought he was? It wasn't helping that I was already so turned on from the book I was reading mere moments before...
"Too into it to join the green room, I'm guessing?" he said, nodding his head back to the corridor behind him.
"Well, that, and I kind of like to be around in case the sound check goes horribly...I'm a pretty nosey manager," I said, placing the Band-Aid on my heel.
"Yeah, I understand. Your band is pretty lucky to have someone as hard working as you," he said, causing me to look down in embarrassment. Curse my intense shyness around cute boys! I thought. If only I could have been like Sierra, who was always game to talk to a hottie as long as his butt was up to par.
"Just wear a low-cut shirt!" she would tell me every time we were getting ready to go out to a party or a bar. "When it comes to guys, everything is secondary to tits."
Too bad I never took her advice and was stuck wearing a frumpy t-shirt my step-dad gave me as a weird joke before I went off to college. It was also too bad that I was still wearing it four years later, finger holes and all.
"I'm just over-protective," I murmured.
"I'm sure it's not just that," he said, smiling and shifting his eyes down shyly and then up again. I nearly died looking into is deep, chocolate eyes. It was ridiculous how badly I wanted to taste his smooth lips, which were way fuller than Jason's...
That's right. I had a boyfriend. I stood up and gave him a terse smile, trying to play the interaction off with a, "well thanks for the Band-Aid. My boyfriend's always making fun of how clumsy I am."
Aamir's face fell, the corners of his lips turning down from their playful arch. There was no way I was about to believe this guy actually wanted me. Suddenly it dawned on me. I knew this game; he wasn't anticipating that I had a boyfriend, he figured that fat girls were easy and he could get a quickie on the road.
'Well not this fat girl,' I thought bitterly, puffing my chest up and trying to believe my own assertive thoughts.
"Oh. Well, later Fun Aim is throwing a party. Maybe you and your band would wanna come?" he said, pulling out his phone.
The rational part of my brain screamed, 'Oh my God you just told him you have a boyfriend and this guy is not letting up. Major trouble. Abort ship!'
And the part of me that reads naughty books and dreams about wearing low cut shirts and dumping Jason said:
"Yeah, that could be a lot of fun."
"Cool," he said, the perfect grin with a straight row of brilliant teeth returning to his face. He readjusted his dorky glasses before handing me his sleek black phone. "Just give me your number and I'll text you the address."
I did, impressed that he remembered my name and already had it typed into his contacts.
'Don't be impressed so easily!' I scolded myself. I handed him his phone back just as I heard someone come up behind us.
"Hey Aamir!" It was Brandon, a giant grin from ear to ear pasted on his goofy face.
"Oh, hey!" Aamir said, cheerily greeting him back. "Not to bail, but one of my bandmates just texted me. We're still behind and need to finish our set list," he laughed, shaking his head. He turned his gaze back towards me, his brown eyes shooting through my soul into my nether regions. "See you tonight?"
"Yeah, probably," I said, trying to sound cool and nonchalant even though my insides were screaming.
"I hope so," he said, giving us a final wave before turning on his heel and jogging down the hall.<
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"Okay, what was that all about?" Brandon said giddily, straddling me in the chair and popping on my lap.
"Brandon, you are not that light—" I said, squirming under his weight.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. ‘See you tonight?' You got some ‘splaining to do..."
"Listen Ricky Ricardo," I said, with a dramatic roll of my eyes. "It's seriously nothing. He invited the whole band to a party that Fun Aim is throwing."
"Uh huuuh. That's what you're just telling me because you have a boyfriend and want to seem like a good girl," Brandon said with a wag of his finger. "But he wants you and you want him," he sang out.
"Hey, save it for the stage, won't you?" I grimaced, still trying to push him off me. "Geeze, am I really this weak?"
"So, what are you going to wear to seduce him?"
"I'm not going to seduce him...and I don't know, would we even have time to change?"
"Well you sure as hell aren't going as the world’s greatest dad, that's for sure," he said, tugging at the neck of my shirt.
"Shouldn't you be sound checking or something?"
"We just finished," he said, jumping off my lap and tousling my dark curly hair. "See?"
"What are you weirdos up to?" Martin said, coming up from behind us and shaking his head.
Before I could say anything in return Brandon cut me off. "A hottie from Fun Aim invited Bailey to a party afterwards."
"He's not in Fun Aim, Fun Aim is having a party, and we're all invited," I said, standing up from the chair and putting my hands on my hips authoritatively.
"What's this?" Trent said, picking up the book that fell from my lap to the floor. He raised an amused eyebrow at me.
"Nothing," I said quickly, snatching the book from his hands.
"Uh huh. Seemed kind of kinky," he joked, a smirk spreading across his face.
Bad Moon (BBW Paranormal Romance) Page 2
