by Lane Hart
“Because it feels good to be free,” I admit to her.
“Does it really? Do you feel good about yourself in the mornings when you wake up hungover?” she asks.
“No,” I answer honestly. “That’s why I drink more, because I feel like shit if I don’t. It’s a vicious cycle that never ends.”
“If you want to stop the cycle, then I’ll help you,” she says.
“You’re sweet,” I tell her, reaching out to touch her heart-shaped face. “What’s your name again?”
“It’s Tessa,” she replies with a small smile.
“Would you do that, Tessa? You’d make the world stop spinning around me all the time?” I ask.
“Yes, I would,” she agrees. “You looked awful on stage tonight, but don’t worry. That’s the last time you may ever be on stage.”
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“If you don’t get sober, and if you and the rest of your bandmates don’t start making new music, your rock and roll lifestyle is gonna dry up real fast. So, will you let me help you?”
“Anything you want me to do, darlin’, I’ll do it,” I promise, because she’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you,” she replies with a grin, and her blurry face turns a little red.
“Did I say you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen out loud?” I ask.
“Yes, you did. Was I not supposed to hear that?” she teases.
“No, you should hear it every day,” I tell her.
“Come on, sweet talker, let’s get you on the bus with the rest of the guys. You’re going home.”
“Home? Where’s home?” I ask, since I honestly don’t remember.
“Roanoke,” she informs me.
“Oh, yeah,” I agree, frowning because the city is full of happy and shitty memories. “I sort of miss that place.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ll be spending the next few months there,” she tells me.
“Are you coming with us?” I ask because her face is too pretty not to see again.
“You said that out loud too. And yes, I’ll rent a car and follow you guys the whole way,” she agrees, her face reddening even more.
“No. You should ride with us. How will you help me stop throwing back bottles of whiskey if you’re not always around me?” I ask, as my eyes start to drift closed.
“The other guys will be with you—” she starts.
“And you think they’ll stop me? No way,” I tell her. “Ride with us. Maybe I’d like to be sober at least a whole day before we get home and I have to deal with my family.”
Her heavy sigh tells me that she’s caving. “Okay, if the other guys don’t mind me riding along…”
“They won’t mind,” I assure her because really, who wouldn’t want a woman as beautiful and sweet as her around as much as possible. “Are you a fan?”
“Yes,” she replies.
“I’m a fan of you too,” I say before I lose the fight with my eyelids. They shut and refuse to reopen.
Chapter Five
Davis
My bare fists have been pounding into the punching bag for a while when the prissy woman in the suit finds me.
Her mouth moves, speaking to me, but I can’t hear her, thanks to the earplugs blasting music in my ears.
When she realizes that, she walks up to me and pulls both out, surprising me because most women are too intimidated to get this close to me for fear of me biting off their hand or face. Not that I’ve ever hurt a woman before, but I guess I look like that type of man. I only hurt the assholes who piss me off, but I look scary, sending groupies into the laps of one of my bandmates instead of mine.
“The punching bag is part of your rider, right?” she asks. “One hanging in every venue.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “What the fuck do you want, other than to ruin my workout?”
“To talk,” she says, not backing down from my attitude. “I’ve been talking to the other guys about what they want to do…”
“No one asked what the fuck I want,” I snap.
“That’s why I interrupted your workout, Davis. What do you want?”
Crossing my arms over my bare chest, I tell her, “I’m tired of the fucking people and cameras always in my face. And I hate living in a cramped-up bus with three other fuckers. Does it look like I easily fit on a goddamn bus?”
“No, it doesn’t,” the woman answers. “And you only have to live on the bus for a few more days.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.
“Tonight was your last show of this tour. You and the guys are going back home to Virginia.”
We’re done? What the hell?
“No one asked me if I wanted to call it quits,” I grumble.
“Don’t you want to take a break from touring?” she asks. “It sounded like you’re frustrated with all the fans and your bandmates.”
“Well, I am,” I mutter.
“So, then it’s a good thing that you get some time off, right?” she asks. Without waiting for my answer, knowing she’s got me, she says, “Do you know where you’re going to stay when we get to Virginia?”
“No.”
The fact is, I was never welcome in my parents’ house after my sixteenth birthday when I got into a fist fight with my father. And since we’ve been on the road, I never bothered buying a place.
“Then I’ll find you a great place, where you can have plenty of alone time and relax. That sound good to you?” she asks with a smile.
Fuck, but it really does. Who the hell is this tiny woman, and how did she cancel the tour and get us the time off we’re all desperate for? I’ve met the assholes at the record label, and they’re usually self-important pricks. If I had to guess, I bet she’s low on the totem pole and was given the task of trying to corral a bunch of rock stars into doing something that can’t be done—get along and make real music together again.
“Just let me know if you need anything else,” the chick—Tessa, I think her name was—says before she turns around and starts to walk away with the click-clack of her heels on the cement.
“Wait,” I tell her.
She stops and spins around to face me again, making her long, honey blonde hair sweep over one shoulder. I shouldn’t even be wasting my time checking her out, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from taking in her perfect face or her small but perky tits. Even if the woman was brave enough to get naked with me, she’s so small, I would probably snap her in half.
“Yes?” she asks, when I’m too busy checking her out to speak.
“There’s something else I want,” I finally say. “Women.”
“Women?” she repeats with both of her eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, women.”
“Women are a reward for success, and you guys are not very successful right now,” the ballbuster points out.
“Yeah, and that’s the only thing keeping them away,” I remark.
“I find it hard to believe that you have to do more than crook your finger to get a woman into your bed,” Tessa says.
“What can I say,” I reply, with my arms out to the side. “I guess I’m not exactly approachable.”
“You’re kidding, right?” she asks.
“Nope,” I answer. “If I crooked my finger at you would it work?” I smirk, giving her hell, until she caves and proves she would never lay a finger on me.
“That’s not gonna happen,” she says right away, her face glowing. The bright red of her cheeks proves my point, more than anything she could say. “Not because you’re unattractive, because you are, and not because I don’t want you, because I do, but I have a job to do and it’s not…that.”
“You want me?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise off my face, since I think she meant those words based on the way she was rambling.
“No,” she replies, her bright green and gold eyes bulging. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did say that,” I remind her with a chuckle.
“You know what I meant,” she says.
“No, I don’t think I do,” I tell her with a grin. “Let’s go over it again.”
“It’s not gonna happen, buddy,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Then I don’t want to go home,” I reply with a shrug of my shoulders, antagonizing her to see what she’ll say to that. I’d give anything to hear her say she wants me again. That shit doesn’t happen to me very often.
“You have to go home. The four of you won’t need to live together, but you should at least be close enough to collaborate.”
“Nah, I think I’ll go off to a nice private island,” I tell her. “The guys and I can video chat, right?”
“Davis,” Tessa snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, I really like the beach, and I want privacy…” I continue to reel her in.
“Fine!” she huffs. “We’ll keep it on the table.”
“It?” I ask for clarification. She can’t mean…
“Us, together…” she trails off before her voice raises again. “But I’m not making any promises, and you have to be good.”
“Hell, baby doll, I don’t know how to be good,” I tell her, even though I’m certain she’s lying. She’ll say whatever the fuck she needs to say to get me to go along with her little plan of the four of us putting down some new tracks for the record label.
“Then I guess you better figure that out,” she replies with a grin before she turns around and walks away. I watch her ass cheeks swaying in those snug pants until she’s out of sight, my imagination running wild now with scenarios that involve the two of us getting naked, even if it’ll only happen in my wildest wet dreams.
Chapter Six
Clarke
I’m the first one on the bus, like usual, glad to see that the cleaning crew has been on during our performance, to clean it from top to bottom. You can’t imagine how messy four guys in a small space could be.
The next person I’m expecting to see climb on is not Tessa. Last I saw her, she was trying to have a conversation with Ben, so I left them alone.
“Hey,” I say when she walks up to me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s great,” she agrees, even though her face looks a little more frazzled than the last time. She’s still gorgeous, but now she looks a little exhausted, like she’s been wrangling cats instead of rock stars. Guess there’s not much difference in the level of difficulty for either.
“So, um, Bennett asked me to ride along with you guys. Hope that’s okay,” she tells me, like we really have a choice in the matter. The record company practically owns us, so if she wants to ride on the bus, I’m not gonna say shit.
“Fine with me, but Ford and Davis may give you hell,” I warn her.
“If so, I’ll get a rental car and follow you,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders in her suit jacket.
“No way,” I tell her. “We’ll be driving all night, and then our drivers will switch before we drive all day too.”
“Oh,” she says. “Then I guess I better drink a lot of coffee, or find out if there’s room for me on one of the equipment buses.”
“You’re riding with us,” I tell her, since I know all those buses are full and not half as nice as ours. “I’ll handle Ford and Davis.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I appreciate your help, Clarke. You’ve been the nicest to me so far.”
“Can’t help it, I’ve always been the nice guy, even though it usually means coming in last.”
“That’s not always true,” Tessa says with a smile and a squeeze of my shoulder. “Women get tired of bad guys eventually.”
“Good to know,” I say with a chuckle. My guts feel like they’re playing Twister, thanks to the way Tessa talks to me and touches me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she’s flirting rather than simply being friendly.
When the bus shakes slightly with the steps of someone else coming on, I look over Tessa’s shoulder and see Ford making his way toward us. Tessa glances behind her and sees him, causing her hand to fall away from me to turn to face him instead.
“Hi, Ford. I was just asking Clarke if I could ride with you all. Bennett’s request.”
“And she doesn’t need to be driving day and night in a rental behind us,” I add.
“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind her joining us,” Ford replies, before flashing Tessa “the grin.” The one he uses on the groupies when he wants them to get on their knees or get undressed for him. It’s never failed him, and just as I expected, it even has an effect on a professional like Tessa.
Still standing in front of me, I watch as she brushes her long hair behind one ear, and I think I even hear her giggle.
Great. Another one bites the dust.
“Thanks, Ford,” Tessa replies.
“Sure,” he says. “I think you should have the bedroom too. I’ll sleep in the bunks.”
“No, the bunks are fine for me,” she tells him. “Or the sofa. I’m not gonna be an even bigger inconvenience and put one of you out of the bed. Besides, I think I’ll need to stay close to Bennett.”
“Why’s that?” Ford asks, his brow furrowed, echoing my own silent question.
“Oh, well, because he asked me to ride with you all to keep an eye on him. You know, make sure he stays away from alcohol.”
“Oh,” Ford replies. “I didn’t know he wanted to give the shit up.”
“It’s not a matter of if he wants to anymore. He needs to stop drinking. If he can’t be sober for a performance, then he has a serious problem. Haven’t you guys noticed?” she asks Ford before turning to look at me too.
“Of course we knew,” Ford answers, crossing his arms over his chest. “And we’ve told him to cut back, but it’s not like he listened.”
“Well, he’s done with the drinking now. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Ford agrees as his eyes devour Tessa from top to bottom. I can tell the wheels in his head are churning even before he says, “You know, I could use some help giving up my smokes.” He pulls a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket and holds it out to Tessa. “Do you think you could be my quit coach?”
“Sure,” she says, practically beaming because she thinks she can really stop him from smoking, or Ben from drinking. Poor girl. She doesn’t see the game they’re playing, or at least the one I know Ford is playing, where he cozies up to her as a way to get into her panties. He has no limits. Doesn’t he get she’s from our record label and that if he fucks her like a groupie and moves on to the next, it could come back on all of us?
“Let’s go look for Ben and Davis,” I tell Ford before I walk by him and grab the back of his shirt to clothesline him into coming with me.
“What the fuck!” he shouts as he’s forced to follow.
“We’ll be right back,” I assure Tessa over my shoulder before I go down the bus steps, still pulling Ford along.
“What’s your problem?” he asks, after we get far enough from the bus that I don’t think she’ll overhear us.
“Are you out of your mind?” I snap at him. “You can’t fuck her.”
“Huh?” he asks. “Why not?”
“Because you can’t!” I exclaim. “She works for our label, the one that is ready to fucking drop us if we don’t get an album out ASAP. One word from her, and they could say to hell with us!”
“Do you honestly think that’s not gonna happen anyway?” Ford asks. “Tour or not, we won’t be able to pull this off before their deadline. They know that, and would rather get rid of us than sign us for another album and tour.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“Yes, Clarke, it is. We’re done, man. It was fun while it lasted though, right?” Ford asks. “And before we go out, there’s no reason I shouldn’t get a little taste of her first.”
“That’s not gonna happen with Tessa,” I assure him. “And if you have that attitude then no, we won�
�t be able to do a new album. I’ll write all the new songs myself if I have to.”
“And they’ll suck,” Ford says.
“Probably,” I agree. I’ve never been as good at coming up with lyrics that can compete with Ford’s. “But at least we’ll have something to show the label before we’re back to Roanoke, broke as fuck, permanently.”
“Do what you want,” Ford says, before he starts walking back to the bus. “I’m gonna be doing her.”
“Who are you doing?” Davis asks when he comes up to us, towering half a foot over our own six-foot frames.
“The record label woman,” I explain.
“Of fucking course he is,” Davis grumbles. “Can’t have a woman walk by without using her up, can you, Ford?”
“Don’t be jealous, Davie. It doesn’t look good on you,” Ford replies. “Stick with the angry expression.”
“I tried explaining to Ford that messing with Tessa could end badly for all of us,” I tell Davis.
“Clarke’s right. Keep your fucking hands off of her,” Davis snaps at Ford as he stalks over and pokes him in the chest.
“You gonna stop me?” he asks.
“Fuck yes. You know I can too,” Davis replies.
“Why do you give a shit?” Ford asks, pushing his luck with our hot-tempered guitarist.
“Because Clarke is right. I don’t have anything to fall back on, pretty boy. We need the label, and you need to worry about writing down some shit for us to play rather than getting your dick wet.”
“I bet you’ve forgotten what that’s like, haven’t you, Davie?” Ford taunts him
“Dude, are you trying to get Davis to punch you?” I ask Ford as I step between them, putting a hand on each of their chests to move them back a few steps. Ford goes, but I can’t possibly make Davis budge.
“I can’t wait to get away from you dickheads,” Davis mutters.
“I feel the same,” Ford tells him through clenched teeth.
“What’s going on?” Ben asks when he walks up to our group meeting. More like stumbles, really, since he seems to be wasted.
