by Shade, S. M.
Our conversation dies as Patrick takes the stage. Unlike the others, he doesn’t have his own band, just three touring musicians playing with him, a guitarist, drummer, and a woman on keyboard.
His stage presence is a bit awkward, but for someone so new, I imagine that’s normal. As he banters a little with the crowd, he seems a little more at ease, with a shy, embarrassed smile playing on his face. Sweeping his hand back through his long hair, he starts playing. He’s an amazing singer, and my look of surprise is reflected in Dani’s expression as she glances at me.
“Wow,” I mouth, and she nods, turning her attention back to the stage. Caden bops along to the music, pausing to smack at the balloon occasionally. When he gets bored of it, I pick him up and move around with him, then Dani does the same. He’s been so good all day, but he’s tired and at his limit.
After Patrick’s last song, Dani tucks him back in the stroller. “We’re out of here little guy. Say bye bye to Naomi.” She regards me. “Be careful being here alone. You can always grab a security guy if you need to. Or if you go backstage, I’m sure some of the other family members and stuff are there so you can find someone to hang out with.”
“Go, I’m fine,” I laugh.
I’m more than fine. I’m having a great time. After watching the next band perform a song, I decide it’s time for some alcohol, since I’m off the clock and all. The beer garden section has more than beer, and I splurge for a way too large plastic cup filled with what was described as a margarita but is basically a slushie drowned in tequila.
I’m not much of a drinker, and I can feel the effects after a few sips.
“I’d go easy on that. They’re strong.”
Spinning around, I confront the owner of the familiar voice, though it takes me a second to place him with his hair tied back in a bandanna. “Patrick! I saw your set. You were fantastic.”
His shy smile returns. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing?”
“Grabbing a drink before I watch Tragic. Want to join me?” The man at the counter takes his order and hands him a cup as large as mine.
“Backstage?”
“We can if you want, but I like to watch from the front row. Better show.”
“Okay, sure.”
It takes us a few minutes to make our way back through the crowd that’s growing denser by the second. Patrick steps up to one of the security officers near the front, says something in his ear, then reaches back to grab my hand, pulling me through the people. The officer escorts us around a barrier, then we duck back under it to get into the center of the front row. Close enough to reach up and touch the edge of the stage.
A rumble of thunder rattles overhead, and I curse.
“It’s not a real music festival if it doesn’t rain at least once,” Patrick says, grinning down at me.
A few drops fall as the band starts coming out, and the crowd pushes forward until we’re crammed in like sardines. The moment Axton walks onstage and picks up his guitar, screams and cheers threaten to deafen me.
Axton steps up to the mic with a smile that no doubt wets women’s panties. “We have some songs for you.” He pauses to let the responding roar of the crowd die down. As it does, a woman wolf whistles, and he turns his head to wink at her, making the audience lose it. Thunder booms again, and he smiles. “You aren’t going to let some rain run you off, are you?”
While the cheers and screams drown out everything again, he steps back, motions to Elliot and they begin to play.
I’ve streamed his music. I’ve heard him practice and sing at home. His talent was never in doubt, but this…I can’t even describe the experience. Everything else falls away. It’s fully dark outside and he’s backlit by deep blue lights as his voice raises goosebumps on my skin.
The song builds and he moves around the stage like he’s part of it, like every inch belongs to him. His face contorts with such passion as he belts out the powerful chorus, then relaxes when the verse resumes in his low, soulful croon. Eyes closed. Wet hair hanging in his face. So much emotion.
The crowd is as silent as I’ve heard them all day, hanging on every sound he makes. The drums kick in and the lights flash in tandem. His face is illuminated in a spotlight as he sings the last verse with more intensity, jumping and moving with the music as if he’s possessed by it.
He’s like a different being up there. There’s some sort of…magic. A force that seems to wrap around him, to cloak the entire crowd and pull everyone into that space with him. Into a world where he’s all that exists.
My throat tightens as I listen, my gaze glued to the man I’ve only recently managed not to despise. But who could fight against this? His voice is ecstasy charged by summer thunder, sweet agony wrapped in desire. It holds the promise of feverish love and whispered, filthy things.
The way the crowd reacts to him, reaches for him, the sobbing and screams, I understand it now. He’s chaos and calm, heady and all consuming.
And they fucking love it.
Chapter Seven
Axton
“Ax!” Dani walks up to me backstage, pushing a sleepy looking Hatch in his stroller. “We just wanted to tell you good night before I take him back to the hotel.”
“Where’s Naomi?”
“She’s had him all day. I gave her the night off. She wanted to watch your set.”
There are thousands of people out there to see me, so why does the thought of Naomi choosing to watch me perform on her night off—when she could go anywhere—please me so much? “Did you set her up at the side of the stage?”
“No, but she knows she can use her pass to get back there.”
We get the five minute warning, so I say good night to Hatch, and Dani pushes him down the hall.
It’s time to focus. It’s been a while since I performed live, but it’s like riding a bike. A bike that can crash and go up in flames from a hundred directions. Hopping around a bit, I psyche myself up. I’m not nervous. Not exactly. I can’t wait to get out there, but when the moment comes, seeing that crowd in front of me, hearing the roar like a beast set to devour you with praise…I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.
Elliot, Brysen, and Jude head out on stage first, throwing grins at each other, and I follow just behind them. The crowd isn’t the largest we’ve played to, but it’s not far from it. With the lights in my eyes, it’s hard to tell, but as we begin the first song, those lights dim, the lights behind me rise, and I can see the first few rows of faces, bathed in blue.
Naomi stands right in the center of the front row, gazing up. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, but strands hang wild as the rain picks up and starts to soak it. The expression on her face is awed, fixed on the stage. On me. It’s not the manic, fan crazed look the women around her wear.
No, it’s another I know well.
She’s thinking about fucking me. And fair enough because as she stares up while I sing, the only thing I can see is the way her mouth hangs open just a little. How I’d love to part those lips with my cock.
After the first song, she turns to talk to someone, and I realize she’s not alone. Patrick Thorn stands beside her. He leans down where he can hear what she’s saying, then laughs and replies with something that makes her smile.
An unexpected feeling gnaws at my gut.
I don’t fucking like it.
This isn’t the time to explore what the hell is wrong with me or why she’s out there with that spindly motherfucker. Shoving all of it aside, I pull my gaze away from them and let the music take over.
The rest of the performance—hell, the rest of the night—passes in a blur. The band celebrates our first concert of the tour with a shitload of alcohol. The hotel suite we all end up in is Jude’s and it’s full of groupies more than willing to get with any of us. Or all of us.
The guys always give me a hard time over my no fucking groupies rule, but I’ve seen that backfire on a lot of musicians. I don’t want to end up with some kind of crotc
h rot or a kid by some psycho chick just trying to land some child support.
No, when I want to fuck, I’ll call a professional. Someone I know won’t get attached or want more. Or fish a used condom out of a trash can to knock themselves up. No shit, it happens. So, even way past drunk, I don’t give in to the offers of the women crawling all over me.
It’s late when I stumble back to my suite and flop onto my couch. After staring at the business card in my hand for a long moment, I finally shove it back in my pocket. An escort tonight would be a waste. I’m too drunk.
Getting undressed and moving to the bed is just too much trouble. The room starts to turn, and I put one foot on the floor to keep myself grounded. My drunken brain is a kaleidoscope of thoughts.
The way my heart pumped and the rush I felt to be in front of a crowd again. We killed it with that set and we’ll definitely want to stick with that setlist for the near future. Naomi was there with Patrick. Are they fucking? Why do I care? She’s the nanny for fuck’s sake. Nothing in her contract says she can’t get laid.
The room stops whirling and the alcohol and exhaustion of the past few days takes over.
I’ve been here before.
It’s somewhere I never want to be again.
The words echo around me. Not again. Not again.
But it’s all the same. The empty rooms, the darkness, the sweat so thick on my skin I can smell it.
The dread that makes me beg to stop, but the way my feet keep moving me forward. Toward the thing I hate most. The one thing I can’t escape.
The door with light licking out beneath it. My hand on the knob.
No, please. Please.
The tiny squeak as it’s pulled open…one inch, then another.
“Ax!” My body jolts as if I’ve been touched with a live wire, and I almost fall off the couch. My gaze leaps around and relief pours into me when I see a bright hotel room, not a bathroom.
That fucking dream. That horrible door. It’s been a while since I had it. Long enough for me to grow hopeful I wouldn’t have it again. Maybe it was the alcohol that triggered it.
“Ax, did you hear me? You’re due on the phone interview with WYFT Radio in thirty minutes.”
Dani frowns down at me, her hands on her hips. Adrenaline is still racing through my blood, but my voice sounds normal enough when I respond. “Okay, I’m up. Give me a minute.”
“I’ve been trying to call you.” She spots my phone on the floor beside the couch and picks it up. “Dead. Of course,” she huffs. “I’m going to charge your phone. Get some coffee or shower or whatever and get your shit together. The questions they’ll be asking are on this sheet.” After dropping a piece of paper on the table, she stalks off with my phone.
My equilibrium is off when I stand and I sway a little, still feeling a bit drunk from last night. It’ll turn into a hangover from hell pretty quickly if I don’t get ahead of it, and there’s too much on my schedule to be sick today.
The mini fridge is stocked with bottled water and I wash down a few painkillers, then drain the bottle. Grabbing some underwear and shorts from my bag, I pop a pod in the coffeemaker, turn it on, and head for a quick shower. By the time I’m out and dressed, my coffee is ready and I’m feeling more sober by the minute.
Picking up the sheet of questions, I take it and my coffee out to the balcony for a quick read through. It’s no big deal. The questions are pretty much the same no matter what radio station, talk show, or media outlet is doing the asking.
Questions about the EP album, the upcoming album, the inspiration behind the songs, and so on. Most end by trying to pry into my social life, no matter how much they’re warned not to. It never gets them anywhere, but the bastards still try.
Dani returns with my phone. “They’ll be calling in about five minutes. Are you prepared?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I got it.” Hiring Dani full time was the best decision I’ve made. She’s really stepped up and it’s much easier with her managing my schedule. “Thanks. I don’t need anything else today. You should go do your own thing.”
“All right. I’ll see what Naomi and Caden are up to. Call if something comes up.”
* * *
The next week passes much the same. We’re all getting into the routine of the chaos that’s touring. My days are usually free, which is good since I’ve been sleeping through them. I visit with Hatch during the evenings, take him down to the hotel pool or play with him in Dani and Naomi’s suite.
On the nights we perform, there’s always an after party, usually in Jude’s room or sometimes a nearby bar. The bar thing is getting more difficult with our growing fame. There are websites and forums dedicated to tracking the movements of celebrities and we’re on their radar now.
We’ve just moved onto the next city when Jude strides in with a smile and shoves his phone in front of my face. “Are you aware that you’re nailing your nanny?”
A picture of Naomi walking beside me with Hatch on her hip fills the screen. He chuckles as I scroll down to read the article posted on SLY, a celebrity news website. “Oh, and apparently, she’s the mother of your secret love child you refuse to speak about in interviews.”
Secret. “Nothing says secret like bringing your kid on tour,” I scoff, shoving the phone back at him.
Jude sits across the table from me and props his chin on his hand, a wide smile on his face. “Come on, you can tell me. Are you living out babysitter fantasies? Ooh, does she punish you?”
My hand barely misses his head as he ducks, laughing.
“If it draws too much attention, we might need to get her a security detail.” So far, as long as I wasn’t with them, Naomi and Dani have been able to go wherever they want with Hatch without an escort. Most of the time, if I wear a hat and sunglasses, I can get away with it too, but that’s quickly coming to an end.
It’s a strange feeling. Fame was never my aim, but being a successful musician was, and they go hand in hand. I’m not going to complain about losing my anonymity. I’m also going to do my best to make sure it doesn’t negatively affect Hatch.
We’ve just settled into the huge mansion that we’re sharing with quite a few other bands and their roadies. Set outside of the city, it’s surrounded by lawns and a wooded area. It’s chaotic with people coming and going all the time, and I’m sure the party tonight will be epic.
My day is clear today and I have the urge to get outside. I’ll bet Hatch would like to walk in the woods or play on the lawn.
Dani opens the door next to Naomi’s when she hears me knocking. “She’s gone. Took Caden to a playground.”
“Alone?”
“Of course not. Patrick went. And I have a security guy nearby if they have any trouble.”
Dani stares at me as I fume at her news. “Ax, she’s trying to give him some normalcy, let him play with other babies and stuff. I thought you didn’t have a problem with her taking him places while we’re on tour.”
“It’s fine.”
Patrick. I don’t know what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, always tagging along with them.
Irritable seems to be my default today, and I need to work some of it off. That’s probably my problem, being cooped up all the time in hotel rooms other than the hour or two I’m on stage. The pool is occupied by a few people, and I’m in no mood to socialize, so a swim is out of the question. Instead, I find myself running around the edge of the property and along the looped path through the woods.
Jumbled thoughts rumble around my head. Why am I pissed? Because Naomi didn’t tell me she was taking Hatch to the playground? Because they weren’t here when I wanted to see him?
One of the company cars passes me as I’m on my way back and I watch as Patrick and Naomi get out. Patrick pulls the stroller out of the trunk and unfolds it. Naomi smiles at him as she shifts my sleeping son into the stroller.
Patrick reaches back in the car, grabs a small stuffed animal, and tucks it into the stroller beside Hatch. Isn’t that just
so fucking sweet? God, he’s playing her like a cheap guitar and she’s eating it up.
“Naomi,” I snap, approaching them. Her smile wilts at the sight of me. I interrupted. Too damn bad. “I was looking for Hatch.”
She pulls her phone from her back pocket and glances at it, then looks back at me. “Why didn’t you text?”
“I should have to text to see my own kid?” Before she can reply with one of her smart ass retorts, I turn to Patrick. “There are groupies all over the place. Use one of them to get your dick wet instead of distracting my employee.”
Patrick’s eyebrows jump up and he seems stunned into silence for a moment. I know what he’s thinking. He’s scheduled as Tragic’s opening band for the next tour, which is a huge opportunity for him. Pissing me off could risk that. The war of indecision on his face is clear. Finally, he looks me in the eye. “I wasn’t aware that her employment meant you approve who she spends time with.”
“It doesn’t,” Naomi growls through gritted teeth. Glancing up at Patrick, she adds, “Excuse us for a minute, please.” It’s not a request. After a moment of consideration, he nods and walks far enough away to be out of earshot, but it’s clear he’s keeping an eye on us.
Spinning on me, heat flares in her eyes. “What the hell was that?” Her voice is low so she doesn’t disturb Hatch, but no less fierce for it.
“He’s trying to fuck you.”
“No, he’s not. He’s just a shy, nice guy who hasn’t been pulled into the partying rock star bullshit. And even if he was, so what? Why is that any of your business? Caden is with me every moment of every day and I do everything for him, but if you think working for you means I’m going to give up any kind of life outside of being at your beck and call, then just fire me right now. I might be your employee, but you don’t own me.”
“That’s what you like? Nice guys?” I taunt.
“Kindness is generally good, yes. I don’t expect you to understand that. What I don’t understand is you acting like a toddler whose favorite toy was stolen. If you want to be included and take Caden on outings, maybe don’t drink all night and sleep all day, then you could go with us. That’s your choice. It’s not on me or anyone else.”
