by Cherrie Lynn
He’d looked at her like she meant something. Like she mattered. When she was accustomed to his derision, his scoffing, his contempt for seemingly every word that came out of her mouth.
She had dealt better with that, maybe. It was expected.
When he’d told her he was sorry, he sounded like he meant it. When he’d said he would handle it, his voice had been hard enough to bludgeon, sharp enough to cut. She didn’t want anything so physical or painful to happen, of course, but his vehemence baffled her.
It also made her feel good. She stared at the ceiling only a few inches from her face, feeling—for perhaps the first time since Heidi approached her with this asinine idea—that everything was going to be all right. Feeling like maybe she had an ally instead of an enemy.
That’s all she could ask for. She doubted she would ever call Elijah Vance a friend, but maybe they’d taken a crucial first step.
She sensed his shadow move past her bunk, heading for his bed. A second later she heard Dylan say something, then Elijah’s deep answering laugh followed by an order to get to sleep.
For herself, Iris knew there was too much adrenaline pumping through her veins to close her eyes anytime soon. First with the show—her ears were still ringing—then Quin, and then the talk with Eli . . . she should be exhausted, and she was. Just not the kind of exhaustion that was conducive to sleep.
She was so glad he hadn’t asked for details. Not that it was any of his business, but the mere mention of what she’d gone through had brought back some of the ugliness that festered way down deep in her soul. She would be eternally grateful he hadn’t asked her to bring that out and show it to him to justify her misgivings about his band member.
Sara was the only person who knew how things had ended with Jacob, and how it had tarnished Iris’s view of sex and especially men who wanted to sleep with her. She could handle anyone she could keep at arm’s length. When a suitor began to push is when she wanted to run.
And what man didn’t want sex?
Well, the one in the back of the bus, maybe, at least not with her. And that was fine with her.
Except he was so damn captivating.
One day, she’d been telling herself for years, she would find him. The one who would be patient and gentle and make her want to explore all those things, not one who was greedy and pushy and pestered her so much she grew tired of the topic of sex altogether. He had to be out there, somewhere.
Sara’s advice was to find the hottest guy on the planet and let him show her what the fuss was all about. Just one night with a man who knew where the G-spot was would fix her, her friend promised. Iris wasn’t so sure. Sometimes Sara was as pushy as the guys, with her nicknames and stories of her own wild escapades, but she just wanted Iris to live her best life. That’s all Iris wanted, too. Not a crazy sex life, but to find someone, settle down, be happy, have kids. Easier said than done, because whoever ended up with her would have to have the patience of a saint. She’d never met anyone like that.
Iris didn’t know why she was dwelling on this now, except that the conversation with Eli had bordered on her history, and any mention of her history brought on this melancholy “where is he?” funk.
She also knew she would never find him if she shot down every guy who looked her way. But she liked to think there would be an instant connection she would sense immediately, a need to let this person in when she’d only wanted to shut all the others out. She liked to believe in soulmates, though Sara said the entire idea was romantic tripe and she would die alone if she held to it. Human beings were biologically programmed to have sex with as many partners as they could, Sara had once told her, so find a manly specimen and go at it. Iris loved her friend, but she thought Sara might end up dying old and alone herself if she didn’t change her hedonistic way of thinking.
One damn thing was for sure: whoever the guy for her was, she wasn’t going to find him out here. Better to avoid them all.
Ten
Seattle was cool and overcast, and a light drizzle fell as Elijah slipped off the bus. Dylan and Seger were sleeping, and he hadn’t seen Iris all morning, either. It was almost noon and, given the weather, he might have holed up until it was time for press and meet-and-greets himself. But his skin had been crawling with guilt ever since Iris’s revelation last night. He’d tossed and turned and grumbled and silently cursed himself all night. That wouldn’t change until he dislodged these words and put them out in the open.
Quin would be crashed, but that’s how Eli wanted him, dozy and caught off guard. He’d be more amenable that way. The last thing they needed was a shitstorm this early in the game.
True to what he’d told Iris, he found Quin on his bus in a tangle of sheets with a smooth, tanned leg tossed over his own. Whatever piece of ass he’d found in Portland had made the ride to Seattle with him, apparently, and Eli hoped she had money to get back home. Quin damn sure couldn’t be counted on to see that she made it. Eli had sent more than a few of them back on his own dime. He suspected the other guys had too.
And Quin had dared to think it might be Iris he woke up beside this morning?
Fuck. That.
“Hey,” he barked, kicking the mattress. “Quin.”
Quin’s head snapped up mid-snore. “Huh? The fuck?” The girl groaned and rolled over, taking most of the sheet with her so that Quin’s nakedness was on full display. Eli shook his head and bent over, lifting the bedspread off the floor and tossing it over him. He was more inclined to punch him in the dick than see it while they spoke.
“Iris said you hit on her last night. I’m just telling you straight. Don’t.”
“Who?”
“Iris, motherfucker, who’s here helping watch my kids. Leave her alone. And clean up your bus because it’s already a fucking health hazard.”
His heated words brought the blonde’s head up, and she turned and stared at him, one eye half-closed. It was probably for her sake that Quin injected some bass in his voice. “Who are you, my fucking mother?”
“You know who the fuck I am. Iris is off limits.”
“You didn’t say that when—”
“I’m saying it now.”
“What’s he talking about?” the blonde whined. Eli ignored her. Whatever she’d expected to get out of this, she was in for cruel disappointment, and she didn’t know it yet.
“Nothing,” Quin snapped. “Get out.”
It took her a second to realize he was talking to her. “What?”
“Did I stutter?”
“Shut the fuck up, Quin.” Eli began scooping up all the feminine attire he could find scattered across the floor, along with Quin’s T-shirt, and tossed them all to her. “Honey, get up and get dressed, and I’ll get you home. I promise you, this asshole doesn’t care if you make it or not.”
Her movements were jerky as she thrust her arms into Quin’s shirt, which was long enough to cover her body while she took her own clothes and scuttled into the bathroom. Eli saw the tears beginning to brim in her eyes as she swept past him, leaving a cloying trail of cheap perfume in her wake.
Quin sat up to grab a cigarette and lighter off his night stand. “Fuck you, E. I figured you’d be relieved if I took that girl off your hands. I thought you didn’t want her here.”
“I don’t,” he said, “but shit’s complicated. So back off. There’s plenty of pussy out there for you, but hers is not. Ever.”
Quin exhaled twin streams of smoke from his nostrils, smirking as he ran a hand over his Mohawk. “Maybe it’s for you, huh? Didn’t catch that before. Hey.” He put his cigarette back in his mouth, mumbling his words around it as he held up both palms. “Hands off then, my dude. My bad. You nail that shit shut for all I care.”
God, he hated this prick sometimes. “I never said anything about her being for me. Just that she’s not for you. The last thing I need is shit like that getting started and having Heidi on my ass. Iris doesn’t deserve it, either. She’s here to do a job. Nothing more.”
<
br /> He could see the smart-ass remark brewing as Quin narrowed his eyes, but he apparently thought better of saying it. “Whatever, man. Can I get the fuck back to sleep now?”
The girl emerged from the bathroom, put together as well as could be expected for this walk of shame. She was pretty, with big brown eyes that were still watery, and pouty lips that were trembling. Probably thought her big chance had come to land a rock star, win him over, show him she was better than all the others, maybe even become his girlfriend. The same old dream, shot down again in the cruel light of day. Eli tipped his chin toward the front of the bus, and she went ahead of him, her heels clacking on the floor. He glanced back at Quin before he left, but he had nothing more to say, and the guy had stubbed out his cigarette and flopped over to face away from him.
He found the girl waiting just outside the bus, her bare arms crossed over her flimsy top as a cool mist continued to fall. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and cleaned off her makeup, looking too young and fresh for this sordid world. She was still sniveling.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Bree.”
“Hi, Bree. Let’s get you something warmer to wear and then we’ll get you home.”
Iris was up and pouring coffee, dressed in cute pink pajamas and slippers when he and Bree entered the bus. She paused when she saw the girl, an intake of breath parting her lips.
“You’re about to overflow it,” Eli warned, then indicated the table where Bree could take a seat.
“Oh . . . fudge.” Iris thrust the coffee pot away and grabbed a towel to clean up while he chuckled at her inability to say “fuck.”
“Fudging motherfudger,” he said, while she shot him a glare. “Iris, this is Bree. She’s going to hang out until I arrange a ride for her to get back to Portland.” He looked at the girl. “You are from Portland, right?”
She nodded, swiping up under her eyes.
“Would you like some coffee?” Iris asked her kindly. He liked that he didn’t even have to explain the situation to her, and he knew he was leaving Bree in good hands while he went to the back to find an extra shirt or a jacket for her to wear home.
By the time he returned to the front, Iris was sitting across from the girl, both of them sipping from steaming mugs. It smelled fantastic and he was chilled, so he poured himself a cup too, then texted for a driver to come around before heading outside.
“HE’S SO NICE,” BREE said after Eli had stepped off the bus. Her eyes had followed him the entire time. “I didn’t expect him to be such a good guy.”
We’re thinking about the same person, right? Iris wanted to ask. She wanted to ask a lot, but she also didn’t want to pry. Withholding her own commentary on how nice Eli could be, Iris sipped from her cup.
“Too bad it’s not him I ended up with,” Bree said, and Iris nearly spit out the drink she’d just taken. The girl’s brown eyes shifted from the front of the bus to Iris. “He sure is protective of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re Iris, right?”
“Yes.”
“Elijah and Quin were fighting over you when Quin threw me off the bus.”
“Oh my God.” She guessed she hadn’t expected Eli to move on it so fast. Actually . . . she’d wondered if he would at all, or if maybe she’d dreamed the whole thing.
The girl shrugged into the jacket Eli had left beside her before he exited. “I guess he would have thrown me out anyway. I always kinda thought he was an asshole, I just hoped . . .”
“Hoped what?”
Bree dropped her eyes to her coffee. “That I was wrong.”
Could she ever relate to that. She’d spent an entire year hoping she was wrong before. At least this girl had realized her folly after a single night. “Well, now you know.”
She scoffed. “Yeah. Fucker.” Tough words, but her eyes began to stream again.
Iris sighed, not knowing what to say. She wanted to impart some motherly advice, tell this girl to stay as far away from these guys as she could get. To respect herself more than to give her body away so frivolously, but she knew she was old-fashioned in her thinking. Women had as much right to sleep around as men; Sara had drilled that into her head enough. But these women . . . there was a power imbalance here that left a bad taste in Iris’s mouth. They were being taken advantage of, and she had the feeling a lot of them didn’t know it when they signed on. If Bree had only expected a night of hot sex, then she wouldn’t be sitting here crying over a guy she barely knew.
Iris wondered what any of them got out of this. And she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to upset Bree further.
So she kept quiet and hoped the boys had slept through this whole exchange.
Bree cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, composing herself. “You’re watching Elijah’s kids? How did you land a job like that?”
“Heidi hired me.”
Another scoff. “She’s such a bitch.”
Iris raised her eyebrows in alarm, casting a frantic look toward the bunks. “Um, the kids are back there right now, you know. And I’m sorry, but do you know her?”
“I don’t have to.” Bree barely even bothered to bring her voice down, and Iris was beginning to feel any sympathy she had for her evaporate like the steam from her mug.
“Well, I like her. She’s been good to me.”
“I think she cheated on him. And I think that’s insane. To have a man like that and screw around on him with someone else?”
Iris stared unblinking. That this . . . person . . . who had no clue what Elijah or Heidi were like behind closed doors, could just speculate about their private lives this way. That anyone could start such an ugly rumor, fan those flames, and make it spread like wildfire. And they would probably justify their comments by saying it was the price of fame, or whatever, to be open to such scrutiny. Iris just thought it was ridiculous.
And to not even care that his kids were sleeping down the hall. If indeed they were sleeping.
“I’m going to have to ask you not to say those things here. That’s ugly and there’s no truth to it.”
Bree smirked and stood up. “Whatever. I’m going to go see if he’s found me a ride yet.”
Iris wanted to tell her to stay put, because who knew what trouble she would get into if she left? But she also didn’t want to remain in the ungrateful little brat’s company another minute. As soon as Bree departed, Iris heard her say something and Elijah respond, so at least he had intercepted her.
Iris shoved her fingers into her hair and propped her head on the table, listlessly twirling her coffee mug with her other hand until he came back alone some five minutes later. He frowned when he saw her expression, placing his empty cup in the sink. “What?”
“She’s . . . a warm ray of sunshine.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Quin’s picks usually are.”
If he liked women like that, then what possessed him to hit on her? Oh well. The matter was solved, apparently. “How did that conversation go?”
“About like expected. He puffed up and then bowed down like he always does.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Sure thing.” He hadn’t looked at her since he put his cup away, busying himself with mundane tasks. Wearing a black long-sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up and dark jeans, he looked cool and dangerous at once, and the way his veins popped and his forearms flexed as he absently wiped the already clean counter was intensely satisfying. He seemed . . . restless. Fidgety.
Did she? Did she hurt you like that?
She’d always assumed it was the other way around. Heidi had certainly always talked like it was the other way around.
It was none of her business.
“Boys aren’t up yet?” he asked.
“Haven’t heard a peep. Do you want me to wake them?”
“Nah, let them sleep.”
She wondered, with a sense of growing dread, if he’d been stan
ding right outside and able to hear everything that girl had said. She hoped not. What must something like that have done to that inflated rock star ego, if it really happened?
But it didn’t, surely. It couldn’t have. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Only then did he turn around and give her his full attention, his dark green eyes seemingly impassive. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t expect you to handle that so fast.”
“Well, if I hadn’t, you’d probably only be dealing with it again today. He can be relentless.” Sighing, he tossed the dishrag away. “Iris, he made some insinuations, and I shut it down fast, but he’s got a big fucking mouth, so if you hear of anything going around, or if you’re treated differently, let me know.”
“Insinuations?”
“About you and me.”
“Oh! Oh . . .”
He scratched the back of his head. “Fuck is the word I think you’re looking for. Not fudge.”
Slack-jawed, she stared around, half expecting paparazzi to jump out from around the corner at any minute. “But we can’t let something like that—”
“I know that, and you know that, but Quin is a dumbfuck, and if I’m shutting him down then the only acceptable reason in his brain must be that you’re already mine.”
The way he said that sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn’t be distracted by it now. “Eli, that would mean my job,” she said, staring at him in abject horror.
“Heidi’s not stupid, Iris. And she hates Quin’s guts; they never got along. Don’t worry about it too much. She’d take anything he said with a grain of salt.”
Iris placed both elbows and the table and put her head in her hands, the turmoil shredding her insides like razor blades. What had happened? She hadn’t done anything, not a single thing to anyone, and she was already having her livelihood threatened over nothing. Over stupidity. It was like middle school all over again. “Unless enough people say it.”
“Who else will? I think we’re good.”
“If he’s upset and starts running his mouth—”
“I’ll close it for him, and he knows it.”
