Behind the Lens (Boys of Fallout Book 2)

by Cassandra Giovanni

Brent rubs his forehead. “About that…”

  “Oh…sorry,” I say, suddenly embarrassed and hot. I slip off my sweatshirt.

  It’s just hot out.

  Yeah, right.

  “I really do get what you mean,” Brent says with a shrug. “These guys are lucky– they found girls that trust them even though we live like this. My girlfriend heard about you coming on tour and flew off the deep end. You’d swear I was a cheater…which, I’m not, by the way.”

  I put my hands up. “No need to explain that to me…even if you are.”

  Brent’s eyes lock on mine, and he shakes his head. “I’m not a cheater.”

  “Me either.”

  His eyes race back and forth before he looks down at his hands, pulling them into fists on his thighs. “What rules do you have?”

  I stand, walking forward before turning. Brent’s eyes are back on me as I reply, “It’s more like one rule– I don’t date or otherwise screw around with my clients.”

  Brent stands, tucking his fingers into his jean pockets. “Why is that?”

  My body tingles as Jace’s face flashes in my mind. “Let’s just say I learn from my mistakes.”

  I’m afraid he’s going to push it and ask who, but instead, he nods over his shoulder. “The guys were thinking about heading over to a local restaurant to celebrate kicking off the tour tomorrow night. We’d like it if you came.”

  “I figured James wouldn’t let us eat out after he stocked up,” I reply as we fall into stride with one another heading to the bus door.

  Brent opens it for me. “Technically, we’re not on tour yet…and it’s a tradition, we wear nice shirts and everything.”

  “Oh, wow!” I say as I walk up the steps.

  “It’s the one time where we don’t end up sweating our asses off when we dress up,” Brent replies, alluding to the fact they dress up every night on stage as a part of their act.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask as I lean down and open my drawer to pull out the one dress I always pack. It’s a black mermaid halter dress that no matter how small I ball it up when I put it on, the wrinkles fall right out. It also hugs every curve with its high-low style and braided cord that runs down the middle, splitting at the top for the straps.

  “Probably in the lounge,” Brent replies, walking passed me and peeking his head in. “Yup.”

  I go into the bathroom to change, and when I come out, the guys are in various stages of undress. Thank God they all have their pants on, even if they aren’t zipped up. My eyes drift to Brent as he pulls his button-up over his shoulders. He pauses, mid-button as he looks up at me.

  “Wow,” he says.

  The rest of the guys look up, and my face burns. I wonder if my face is going to become permanently red at some point during the tour between Brent’s hotness and the band. I shrug as I walk to my bunk and drop my old clothes in the drawer and pull out my flip flops. “It’s just something I always pack. I don’t usually get a chance to wear it.”

  Brent scratches the back of his head before continuing to button his shirt. The rest of the band is silent, and I find myself looking down at my phone. I bite the inside of my lip as the picture of Luke kissing my cheek stares back at me. I swipe my finger across the screen before going to the settings and changing it to a generic black screen.

  “Who was that?” Kie asks as he hangs over the top of the bunk. I jump back, hitting my head on the upper part as my eyes meet Brent’s.

  He’s sitting on his bunk tying his shoes and doing a poor job of covering his smirk.

  “Luke,” I reply as I rub my head.

  Kie swings down, and props his arm against the wood, framing his head as he asks, “Why’d you delete it?”

  I blink before deciding to ignore him.

  “Everyone ready?” James asks, clapping to get our attention. “Pick a car, either Brent or me.”

  “Shotgun!” Brad calls as he follows James out.

  “I guess I’ll go with you,” I say to Brent as I follow them out and Brent falls into step behind me. “You couldn’t warn me Kie’s bunk was above mine?”

  Brent shrugs. “I didn’t realize he’d rub you so wrong.”

  I look at him from the corner of my eye, pressing my lips together. His shoulders rise as his lips draw into his mouth.

  “Honestly, I didn’t know!” he replies over the car as I go around to the passenger seat.

  “Didn’t know what?” Kie asks as he opens the door behind me.

  I close my eyes as I slip into the car. Brent doesn’t seem to be able to help the smirk on his face as he puts the car into gear.

  “Jerk,” I say under my breath.

  Brent chuckles and those damn butterflies make me smile against my will.

  Chapter 10

  I open the journal to the lyrics I began to write on the plane, sucking the pink mechanical pencil into my mouth as I stare at the two opposing pages with separate songs both half finished. My eyes race over the words. In my rush to get the lyrics down, I didn’t leave myself enough room to finish the songs. Sometimes I never finish the songs I begin to write, but these words sink into me, and I know I need to push passed what’s blocking me–passed the anger filling every inch of my being. These demons are eating up my soul and rotting me from the inside out. I pull the pencil from my mouth and flip the page to copy down the lyrics I already memorized before erasing them from their original page.

  I sweep away the erasure debris as I read the words of the first song.

  I’ve lost myself in the abyss of you

  Engulfed by the blackness of your soul

  You’re the air suffocating me.

  I can’t.

  Can’t breathe!

  The brackets for the chorus circle the next paragraph.

  I’ll fight my demons one by one

  Saving you for last

  You snaked your way into my soul

  Wrapped yourself around my heart

  I’m saving you for last

  I suck the air into my lungs, letting it stale there before exhaling as I place the lead to the paper.

  I should never have trusted the devil

  The demons you said you drowned–

  But I should’ve known–

  Should’ve known you weren’t that strong

  How could you drown yourself?

  I tap my pencil against the paper before erasing the last line and changing it.

  You were the only demon to drown

  I draw the brackets and word Chorus again before moving to the next verse.

  How can you say they’re demons when–

  when you treat them like old friends

  I shake my head, moving the lyrics to the other page to save them and start the verse again.

  Yeah, babe, you warned me

  — youwarned me

  You had demons

  But how can you call them demons–

  When you treat them like old friends?

  I smile before moving on.

  They’re suffocating me.

  You were the only demon to drown.

  Can’t.

  Can’t.

  Breathe.

  Chorus. I pull my lip into my mouth, biting it as the words flow.

  I’m sick of drowning.

  Sick of succumbing to the dark corners of

  when you were mine

  LIES

  {Chorus}

  You’re the only demon left to drown.

  I’m saving you for last.

  I feel the anger fragment and release as my eyelashes flutter.

  “Is that your look of determination?” Brent asks, and I let my lip slip out of my teeth as I blink at him reading a magazine across from me.

  “I guess,” I reply.

  “What’s that?” he asks as he nods to the journal.

  I pull the ribbon marker over the page before closing it and tucking the pencil into the clasp. “Nothing. I just take notes on the shots I’m planning.”

  “Ahh.�
�� Brent’s gaze is unfocused. It comes back to me, and he says, “You kind of seemed like a ‘wing it’ girl.”

  “A ‘wing it’ girl?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at him. My pulse thrums in my ears because it’s true.

  He shakes his head, his palms turning up. “I mean not a ‘wing it’ girl–but like you just do it naturally. Like you don’t need to think about it.”

  I smile. “I’m always thinking about it–until I’m doing it–then I just let it all go.”

  “That’s the way it should be,” he says before tossing his magazine on the bed. “I’m bored, you?”

  “I’m sure we’re almost there,” I reply as I look down at my watch.

  “Antsy enough?” James calls from his bunk. “We should be there in like twenty minutes.”

  Brent rolls his eyes. “Are you coming to watch us run through our set?”

  “I was thinking about going to the gym,” I reply as I lean over and tuck the journal in my drawer.

  “The gym?” Kie hangs his head over the edge of the bunk, and my lip twitches.

  “Yeah, so I can practice.”

  “Practice what?” he asks, cocking his head.

  “Krav Maga,” I reply, looking up at him.

  “No shit,” Kie says as he jumps down. “Show me something.”

  “Dude, I don’t think you want to do that,” Aiden replies, and I look up at him in his bunk over Brent. His tablet covers the lower half of his face, but I can tell from his eyes he’s smirking.

  “Come on.” Kie turns, putting his shoulders up as he turns his hands up. “What could she–” When he hits the floor, his arm twisted behind his back he yells, “Mother Fuc–” I push his face into the industrial carpentry, so the rest of the swear is muffled.

  I release him, standing and putting my hands on my hips as he turns to look up at me.

  “That was fucking cheap. I wasn’t even looking,” Kie says.

  “Dude–” Aiden begins again as Kie stands.

  Kie puts his hand up. “I’m not afraid of this stick figure.”

  I blink at him as I scoff. “Seriously, you should talk, buddy.”

  “Ohhh!” Aiden says, and the guys stare at Kie and me.

  “Come on, girl,” Kie says, nodding at me with his lips turned down. “Try it again–this time not a cheap shot.”

  The next sound that comes out of his mouth is a solid Ompf as I hit him in his throat, then grapple him to the ground, my knee in his back as I twist both of his arms behind him.

  “Seriously, man, you need to give up,” Brent says, but his eyes lock on me. “Do we want to know why you know how to do that?”

  “It’s good exercise,” I reply as I drop Kie, and he gasps as he hits the ground.

  “For some reason, I doubt that you do it just for exercise,” Kie says as he leans against the bunks, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Ever been pulled into a mosh pit with a three thousand dollar camera?” I ask, sitting back down on my bed.

  Brent’s eyes are still on me, but I don’t let mine meet his as a shiver passes through my body.

  “Seems like a good enough reason. I feel sorry for whatever dumbass tries to drag you in,” Aiden says as he puts his tablet down. “I do Krav Maga, too.”

  “We should practice some time–see how quickly I can kick your ass,” I reply, smirking up at him.

  He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.

  “You sure your girlfriend won’t throw a fit?” Kie asks as he stands, now rubbing his back where my knee dug in.

  “My girlfriend actually trusts me,” Aiden replies, and I watch as Kie’s back stiffens. “Because I don’t cheat.”

  “Fuck off, man,” Kie says, his voice low as he pulls himself back into his bunk.

  Brad stands, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he tosses a bottle up to Kie. “You’re going to need these man.”

  “Ha ha,” he replies, but I hear him pop off the cap.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I call up to Kie. “Sometimes I don’t realize how realistic I’m being.”

  “Hear that, Aiden?” Kie asks, throwing the bottle across at him. “You’re going to need these, too.”

  “Bring it on,” Aiden replies.

  “So the testosterone level in here is a bit much,” James says. “Even with a chick.”

  “Are you saying I’m manly?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “You’re definitely not manly,” Brad says, and I watch as Brent cracks his neck. He stares down at his magazine again, but the fact his eyes aren’t moving tells me he isn’t reading it.

  “Hey,” I say, standing and going to sit next to him. “I can teach you Krav Maga.”

  Brent looks up at me, sucking his lip into his mouth. “Why? I have you to protect me.”

  I laugh. “What do you keep looking at in this magazine?”

  He puts it down on his lap so I can see. “Custom Jackson guitars.”

  “I like that one,” I say as I cock my head. “Soloist, right?”

  Brent’s head jerks back and his brows furrow. “Yeah…”

  “I love the way these sound,” I reply, and Brent blinks hard at me. “Just because I can’t play guitar doesn’t mean I don’t admire them. I like the classic black with the abalone inlay.”

  “Wait, here,” Brent says as he slips his legs around me to stand. When he comes from the back he’s holding the very guitar I described.

  “Look at that,” I reply as a tingle spreads through my chest.

  “Puke,” Kie says from his bunk.

  Brent hands it to me, and I run my fingers over the strings.

  “Beautiful,” I say.

  When I look up Brent nods, and there’s a smile plastered on his face.

  My heart stops and then starts in a way that makes my body flush with heat. “What?”

  “You look good with it,” Brent replies.

  I glance around Brent up at Kie. “Now you can say it.”

  He dramatically drapes his body out of his bunk, blinking at us. “Pukkkkkeeee.”

  Brent keeps smiling at me as he reaches over and smothers Kie’s face with his hand, muscles flexing in his arm. “I can’t think a girl looks beautiful with a guitar?”

  Kie pulls away from him. “Only when that’s all she’s wearing.”

  I choke as I watch the guy’s eyes turn on me.

  “Seriously!” I say as I put the guitar on the bed. “Now I can ever hold a guitar in front of any of you again.”

  “You’re totally only sister material,” Brad says, shaking his head with his hands up.

  “Yeah, Brad likes his women to have longer hair than him, sorry,” Aiden adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “You all have girlfriends!” I reply as I go to the kitchen to grab a drink.

  “Not all of us,” Brad says.

  I pause, feeling my knuckles go white against the bottle I’m holding as I look at him. The corners of his eyes wrinkle as his gaze goes to Brent who’s concentrating on re-tying his converse sneakers then me. The one single guy on this bus happens to be the only one I feel attracted to. I turn and sit at the table, staring out the window as I try to think about anything but the fact I’ve been with the band for 72 hours, and I already–stop!

  This is why I have rules.

  I just need to follow them.

  Chapter 11

  I stand back watching the guys as the crowd grows louder and louder through the thin walls separating us from them. Nervous energy filters through the air, and I watch as Kie slaps his bass strings causing the metal to reverberate against his thumb as he paces the room. Brad twirls his drumsticks through his fingers while Aiden leans against the wall, eyes half open. James’ eyes are shut as he taps his foot to whatever song he’s singing in his head. My eyes drift to Brent sitting on the ground with his elbows resting on his knees as he presses his forehead against his arm. I can see his lips moving, but I’m not close enough to read what he’s saying. I adjust the settings on my camera and take the shot
. It captures each of them in their individual states, and I breathe in the thick air as the strange comfort of my job sinks in.

  James cracks one eye open, smiling at me before he looks down at his watch. “Are we ready?”

  I stand back as I watch them create a circle.

  “Three,” James sings as they intertwine their arms with one another. “Three,” he sings again, higher this time as they begin to jump.

  “Two!” Brent growls. “Two!”

  “ONE!” they scream in unison before separating and bursting onto the stage.

  I curse to myself as I rush out after them, while I caught a picture of them mid-jump, I need to be on the stage when they run out next time. I already took some test shots before the show with the lighting down, so I fix my settings to the ones I’ve memorized will work as the guys get ready to play.

  “How are we doing tonight?” Brent asks the crowd, pointing the microphone out to them. I react, adjusting the lens to capture the moment the crowd screams back at him, jumping to their feet as the music begins to play behind him.

  “This song,” James says as he jumps on the riser separating the crowd from them–a riser I have no doubt kids will be climbing to crowd surf. “Is called Runaway.”

  The crowd surges upwards as their hands rise in the air and they begin to jump in response to the song. Brent leans forward, growling into the microphone before twisting around as James tips his head back and starts to sing. I maneuver around the stage, slipping behind it before coming back to Brent’s side as he tilts his head back, screaming into the microphone. I capture him as he looks out into the crowd, his mouth open in a scream, and an unmistakable smile on his lips. He glances over at me, somehow knowing I’m there, and I nod at him.

  Brent lowers the microphone, shooting me a smile before leaping into the air and twisting onto his back to surf the crowd. I snap the picture, catching him mid-air as the crowd reaches for him, screaming louder as they move him back and then forward. They push him onto the stage, and he grabs the microphone cord off the ground, reeling it back in and spinning it back into his hand. He adjusts his tie, and I hear a girl scream, “I touched his ass! I touched Brent’s ass!”

  Brent winks at me, and I click the camera to capture it perfectly before he brings the mike back up to his lips to scream.