“It’s perfect,” Em declared, appraising the last of our final prank. I had put on my best pair of straight leg jeans, a snug black tee, one of Tate’s borrowed wallet chains and Affliction beanies. Nolan was doing the final touches, inking a fake sleeve up my right arm.
I was going to crash the stage dressed like Tate.
“You’re really going to do it,” Mattie asked, “aren’t you?”
“Coop’s a pro,” Em reminded her. “She’s done this before.”
“Not at this scale.” My largest audience was a fraction of this size. The Adams Center held seventy-five hundred fans. The Loft housed only several hundred people on a good night.
“I couldn’t do it,” she admitted. “Standing on stage in front of all those people…I think I’d sweat right through my deodorant. I’d have pit stains down to my hips.”
“Wear a white shirt,” Em told her, “and no one will care.”
Mattie drew a deep draft of wine, swirled what was left in the bottom of her glass. “They don’t care anyhow. I’m just the ‘kid sister’ no one dares to look at. Did you see them this morning? Their eyes were playing ping-pong between you two. I didn’t even exist.”
“Honey, you can’t wait for Carter to notice you,” Em advised. “You have to make it impossible for him to look away.”
Surprising us both, Mattie barked a laugh. “He’ll hit on Coop before he hits on me. We’re both off limits but at least he’s in love with her.” Cackling to herself, she stepped into the bathroom to powder her nose. I was pretty sure she’d be blotting her eyes while there too.
I decided to disregard her observation. Carter’s feelings for me wasn’t something I wanted to ponder at any length.
“She’s right, in part,” Nolan said, capping his marker. “He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do that to Tate or Jake. She’s going to have one battle on her hands if he’s what she wants.”
Nolan would know. He had played a large role in Carter’s life. When Carter was only twelve, he had lost his parents in a car crash. His sister Jess, six years older, raised him the best she could, but she was still a kid herself. So Nolan had stepped in when Carter began lashing out, and he set him straight. He essentially became a father figure to him.
Setting the marker down on the table, Nolan patted my hand. “I think that should do it, sweetheart.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind watching Levy?”
Nolan smirked and eyed Levy, who was sleeping on the sofa. “I think I can keep him out of trouble till you get back.”
“If he wakes up—”
“He shouldn’t need his diaper changed. He hasn’t had anything since seven. Don’t give him any juice. It’ll rot his teeth. If he wants to sleep in his bunk, make sure the gate’s up so he doesn’t fall out. I remember.”
Behind me, Em giggled. “She does that to me too.”
“I’m a mom,” I scowled. “It’s what we do.”
“For the next few hours, you’re a kid again,” Nolan ordered. “You’re free to misbehave and do all the dumb things kids your age do.”
“Actually, no alcohol for me. I’m going to sing. And then I’m going to make sure these two don’t get in any trouble.” My how the tides turned. I was now looking out for Em.
Behind me, the bathroom door opened. Nolan’s gaze drew up. His eyebrow arched warily. “Looks like you’re going to have your work cut out for you.”
Indeed. Mattie had changed. She wore a short red number with black leather accents. When she gave a twirl, there was no frill; it was all stretch and retract. It was backless, with barely anything but two belts of black leather that connected at the waist and neck.
Em let out a whistle through her teeth. “I think she’s ready for battle.”
I looked down at myself, feeling slightly disappointed. “I feel underdressed.”
Em’s dress wasn’t any better. She wore a black ensemble that was simple and feminine with only a sheer ruffle of ribbon along her neckline. It framed her breasts like a hint of the unmentionables one might find underneath. And I say might, because there were no lines showing to say that she was wearing any.
“Come on pimp daddy,” Em teased. “Come help me down the stairs.”
“Seriously. I feel like a dork now. I wanna be a girl too.”
“Sorry Coop. You’re the man today. You can be the girl tomorrow.”
“That sounds so bad,” I pointed out, after I thought about it. We fell into giggles as we descended the stairs of the bus. Taylor and Marshall were on duty tonight. Even they couldn’t keep a straight face as I looped an arm around each of the girls’ waists and escorted them inside.
We stopped by the green room, where I warmed up my voice with a little help of the piano, and then went to wait backstage. There, the Sound Assistant fitted me with a microphone.
“About four,” he told me, holding up the corresponding number of fingers. “Then you’re on.” I nodded. Clapping me on the back, he rushed off to his next task.
After that, it was a matter of waiting for the next song to begin which was no hardship. While I’d watched all of his sound checks, it had been weeks since I’d watched Tate live in concert. I missed the lights…the noise…the rush. I missed being on stage. I craved it.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Em shouted. “You’re totally buzzing right now.”
My body moved on its own. Often, I didn’t realize I was jamming along. It came naturally, the dancing and singing. If I had an affinity for anything, it was definitely music.
“I can’t help it. I’m psyched.”
“Do you know him well enough?” Em asked.
Rolling my eyes, I mirrored Tate’s moves, mimed his expressions. A few of the crew stopped to watch my antics. Em and Mattie rolled with laughter. Taylor fought to keep a straight face. Marshall just shook his head. I had Tate down to the T. Yes, I knew him.
“Tate is going to piss himself laughing when he sees you!” Mattie swore, holding her stomach. “He’s going to love it!”
“Trouble,” Marshall muttered. “You know that, right?”
“What?” I asked, going for ingenuous. I looked up at him, fluttering my lashes.
“How did you plan all this?”
“I’ll never tell.” Everyone. The entire crew. It appeared they liked a good prank as much as the next, and pledged to supply anything I needed for the cause. Most of what I needed, I found on the internet. Throughout the afternoon, I watched numerous videos of Tate’s previous concerts, learning his nuances on stage, and memorizing the lyrics and timing.
“Paybacks are a bitch, he warned. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, shut it, Marshall,” Em scolded. “She’s got years of mischief to burn off. Let her have some fun. She deserves that much.”
Oz, a short, skinny man who headed the visuals, spoke into his mike and then gave me the signal. The song was coming to a close. On the video feed, he had queued footage of Tate that would play alongside my hijack so the audience could follow along with the prank.
“This is it,” I breathed, my stomach quavering. Only seventy-five hundred people, nothing to be nervous about.
“We’ll see you down front, Coop,” Mattie said. “Good luck.” With a wave goodbye, she grabbed Em’s arm and dragged her toward the side exit, where they would stand by the pit for a front row show. Marshall accompanied them, shaking his head in censure.
Carter shredded it on stage, closed the number with a soaring guitar solo. The audience roared. Tate stole a moment to hydrate, downed a few large gulps of water. Meanwhile, Shane hiked up his pants, Jake prepped for the next song and I warmed up my voice by humming out the first few lyrics. A few seconds later, Carter began strumming out the first few chords.
Tate lifted the microphone to his mouth and growled out the first line, but my throaty tone came out instead. He looked at his mike in confusion and then panned the area. A wide smile spread across his face as I swaggered on stage, dressed like him, mim
ing his routine.
Don’t don’t don’t you walk away from me
I’m not finished with you yet
I want to see you on your knees
Those big brown eyes looking up at me
Grabbing my crotch, I thrust my hips forward, just as Tate would were he performing the song himself. My face scrunched up in a parody of lust. Tate bent at the waist, laughing.
Behind me, the ginormous video screen split in two, Tate on half and me on the other. Now, normally, Tate would’ve picked some random hoe from the audience to play this part, but this time, he was playing the random hoe. Falling to his knees at my feet, he looked up at me.
Ooh, I love the way you lick those lips
So nice and full
The things they do to me
You make my heart go boom and my stomach flip
Reaching up with his arms, he placed a hand on either side of my hips and slid them to my ass, pulling me toward him. Shoving him back, I wagged my finger at him in warning.
Uh uh, baby, not just yet
Don’t worry we’re getting there
Just let me savor this
No reason for you to fret
Dragging a nail up his cheek, I raveled my hands into his hair, yanked his head back, and dropped my head with a teasing smile.
I wanna wrap my fingers in your hair
Pull your head back taste you there
But I can’t let you off just yet
Sweetheart, you don’t have a prayer
Patting his cheek, I smirked and circled him, dragged a finger across his shoulder. They shuddered under my touch, still laughing at my antics. Using the sole of my boot, I pushed him down on his hands and knees, then pressed him down to the floor.
So, you think you can handle this
But I’ll have you on your knees
Crawling back where you belong
Because I’m no candy coated kiss
Dropping, Tate rolled to his back. Still smiling that wayward smile, he placed his hands over his heart and patted in a mock beat. “You make my heart go boom.”
Smiling, I straddled his waist, rolled my hips in a wide circle. His eyes narrowed. He shook his head in warning, while maintaining a smile. We had an audience, a real one.
I’ll take you heights you never knew
The things I say will make you blush
But don’t mistake this for love
This is no simple boyhood crush
Mm no, this is no simple boyhood crush
So, you think you can handle this
Because I’m no candy coated kiss
Shaking with laughter, Tate sat up and pulled the microphone from my ear then planted a kiss on my lips. “You naughty, sexy girl.”
“You’re not the only one that plays to win.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“See that you do and maybe I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll be in your bed, Strawberry Girl, but we won’t be doing much sleeping.”
“With Em and Mattie aboard?”
“Mattie would be happier on the Body Bag anyhow.”
“And Em?”
“She can keep Mattie out of trouble.” Lifting me at the waist, Tate helped me to my feet. I offered him a hand in return, pulled him off the floor. Turning toward the audience, he flipped on his mike and fanned a hand in my direction. “My beautiful, talented and much adored other half. She looks better performing that one, no?”
Hands went up. Cheers rang out. Honored, I took a slight bow. These were Tate’s fans. They weren’t obligated to like me, so I was flattered to receive such an enthusiastic response. Reluctant to overstay my welcome, I pressed a kiss to Tate’s jaw and jogged off the stage.
Taylor was waiting for me. He had a towel in his hand and a bottle of water. “Taylor,” I teased. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s from one of the assistants,” he admitted. A flush crept across his face, straight up to the tips of his ears. “There was a problem. He had to run.”
“You totally could’ve taken credit for that.”
Taylor smiled vaguely. “Ma’am.”
Holding up my index finger, I requested a minute to powder my nose. Taylor followed me as far as the ladies’ room and leaned against the wall outside the door. I wondered how much it sucked to follow me around all hours of the day. He had to be bored out of his mind.
Inside, I passed a tall strawberry-blonde who was fixing her make up in the mirror. She glanced up at my entrance, but otherwise ignored me. I was the bigger person, so I said “Hi.”
“You’re Tate’s wife.”
“Yeah.” I smiled and tugged Tate’s hat from my head. I could practically feel the steam rise from my scalp. I slipped the elastic from my hair and began to comb through the knots, pulling it into a higher ponytail. “Are you on the crew? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Just a fan.”
“Oh? Who are you with?” The guys were wasting no time. Dogs.
She declined to answer, but glanced in my direction. Despite the heat pouring off me, the hairs rose on the back of my neck. I briefly regarded the color of her hair, but quickly brushed it off. It was just a coincidence. She looked nothing like me. However, a smaller part of me pointed out that she did resemble the girl from Tate’s first album cover.
Pulling a tube of lipstick from her pocket, she glided it over her lips, slicking them with a fresh coat of light pink gloss. Again, her gaze flickered to me as she mashed her lips together and spread it to an even coat. “You don’t look pregnant.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
Wow…just wow. “Excuse me?” My back immediately went up. What was her problem?
“It’s obvious you’re using him to get your own five minutes of fame.”
“You don’t know anything about Tate or our relationship.”
“Apparently, neither do you.” Sliding her lipstick back into her pocket, she sauntered to the door, her fuck-me red heels clicking against the ceramic tile. “That was my song you just sang. Has been the last three tours.” Smirking, she pulled the door open and strode out.
Stunned, I stared at the empty door. I felt like she just ripped my world out from under me. Every possible atrocity whirled through my mind, striking up innumerable fears and suspicions. I had never questioned Tate before, but with that one considerable seed of doubt, she had me mentally ajar.
The notion was cliché, but I couldn’t help latching onto the fact that he came home freshly showered after every show. Honestly, I was sweating after only one measly song. With the stage lights, his level of physical activity and the added heat of seventy-five hundred fans, the stage was sweltering. I knew from experience. He wanted to be clean, simple as that.
Nevertheless, it fostered other suspicions like the irregularities in the hours he returned to the bus. One night he might stroll in at a timely one in the morning and wake me up for a little midnight delight. On other nights, he’d stagger in shit-faced and exhausted well past three, and pass out face down on the nearest horizontal piece of furniture he could find.
It left me wondering what kept him.
I knew I was being paranoid. He had meet and greets and autographs to sign after his shows. I knew this. I’d witnessed it. It was all part of his job. He appreciated his fans and he demonstrated this by making himself available to them. I admired him for it. Not many artists gave their fans the time of day.
“Cooper?”
Taylor’s voice ripped me from my dark and twisted musings. I released the grip I had on the sink and submerged my hands under the faucet. “I’ll be right out.”
I left the water sluice over my wrists. I’d seen it on TV once and it stuck with me. It was most likely an old wives tale, but it worked, even if it was all in my head. A short time later, I emerged refreshed and slightly cooler. I stuffed Tate’s hat into my back pocket.
“Ma’am?”
“I’m fi
ne, Taylor. Do we need to do this again?”
Shifting his weight, Taylor looked to the ground and cleared his throat. “Ma’am, if I can speak candidly…”
“By all means.”
“If I had known she was in there, I would’ve intervened. If she said anything—”
“Oh, she definitely said something.”
“Then it was purely out of spite.” Earnestly, he met my eyes. “Tate refused to see her before the show. She’s been sneaking in and out of here all night. Tate already put a complaint in to the venue about their security staff.”
My stomach turned to an upright position. My heart settled to a normal pace. My lungs released a long-held breath of air. “God, I’m such an asshole.”
“No ma’am. That would be the other woman.”
A smile snaked across my face, though weak. “Gosh Taylor, did you just make a funny? I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“No joke.”
“Well, either way, the feeling is mutual.” With Taylor by my side, I started for the exit that would take me out by the pit. I had a million questions that I wanted to ask him, but he wasn’t the person to ask. Taylor was a professional and a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t want to put him on the spot by asking about Tate’s ‘fans.’ Besides, they were in Tate’s past. “I’m just aggravated with myself for letting some stranger get to me like that.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s human nature.” Taylor pushed the door open, held it while I passed. “Don’t let it ruin your night, Ma’am.”
“I won’t.” I was out to have fun. Rounding the corner, I found Mattie and Em jamming along to the music. When they saw me, Mattie let out a squeal and broadsided me with a hug.
“You were amazing!”
“Hot!” Em added. “Tate couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Tate?” Mattie exclaimed. “After that performance, I want to fuck you.”
“You and half the male audience,” Em pointed out. She pried me from Mattie’s arms and enveloped me in her own hug. “Seriously, Coop, I should’ve come to see you perform sooner.”
“It’s ok. The Loft wasn’t nearly as exciting as tonight.”
“Beer?” Mattie asked, holding up a Dogfish Head. I was quick to hold up my hand in refusal. It was part of the cause behind my current gestational predicament.
Someone to Watch Over Me Page 30
