The Crow Brothers: JET - TULSA - RIVERS - RIDGE

by Scott, S. L.

  Yup. Cloud nine has nothing on the high he gives me when he allows me a little insight into his mind. “Yes. Later.”

  With everyone busy getting ready, I float like a bird outside, feeling on top of the world. The security guard sits on his stool just inside the double doors that lead to the entrance. He stands and holds the door open for me.

  The air is cool and feels good coating my skin. Leaning against the side of the building, I look up and find a sky full of stars. My heart feels even fuller, closer to bursting with happiness. The emotion is freeing, as if anything is possible. I’ve missed this.

  Eighteen-wheelers barricade the area with equipment being unloaded, and even though people surround me, lights shine down, and loud sounds fill the air, the brightness of the stars can’t be dimmed.

  Just like me.

  14

  Tulsa

  Nikki shines on stage.

  She has the audience wrapped around her finger, watching her every move and listening to her hit every note. She jumps with full energy on some songs and rests by pulling a stool in front of the microphone and playing her guitar during others. Then she combines the two for the rest of the set.

  She’s an amazing performer: dynamic, mesmerizing, and hot as sin.

  I’m jealous of the assholes who get to watch her from the front row. This backstage business isn’t giving me the full view I want.

  The stage manager comes up to me and says, “Be ready in ten.”

  I spin the drumstick around my fingers and then hold them both in my right hand and step aside when Faris Wheel comes off stage. The sheen of sweat glistening across Nikki’s neck makes me want to lick her. She dashes down the steps and pauses, not long enough for anyone but me to notice, and boops me on the nose. “Break a leg, Crow.”

  “Great show,” I mumble under the attention of a goddess as the scent of cherries fills my being, reminding me of last night. I see the same smile I saw in the privacy of my room last night appear, making me return the favor.

  When they leave the area, Rivers punches my arm. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t.”

  “Fuck, Tulsa. What the fuck have you done?”

  “Nothing,” I lie, not only not wanting to have this conversation but not wanting to get everyone riled up before we hit the stage.

  Rivers stares long and hard before saying, “I know you too well. Tell me it was just some chick you met and hooked up with.”

  “Why are you’re so invested in my sex life?”

  “I couldn’t care less about your sex life as long as it doesn’t interfere with the tour.”

  “It won’t.”

  Jet comes up behind us and scares the shit out of us when he grabs our shoulders. “Fucking hell,” he says, laughing. “Why so tense?”

  “Nerves,” we both reply with the same lie.

  The roadies run around setting up while Jet says, “Get over them. We’re on in five.” He climbs up the steps and nods to the kit. “Kill it, Tulsa.”

  Pushing past Rivers, I reply, “I always do.”

  “Cocky fucker,” Rivers says from behind me.

  “You know it.” I sit on the stool and realize I don’t have to adjust it at all. It’s perfect. Looking at the guy with the beard and ball cap bent in front of my platform, I give him a nod. “Thanks.”

  He gives me one right back before stepping to the side of the stage and crossing his arms.

  Jet comes back and calls Dave and Rivers over. “Ready?”

  Rivers says, “Just like any other night in Austin.”

  As soon as they take their spots, I count us in and slam down my sticks as the lights come up.

  * * *

  We don’t stay to watch The Resistance tonight. I’m starving and so is the band, so we hit a steakhouse on the way back to the hotel.

  When dinner starts coming to an end, Jet stands in the corner of the private room with his phone pressed to his ear. Since he’s behind me, I catch some of his responses, “I love you . . . That’s cool . . . I wish you were here . . . Miss you guys . . .”

  When he hangs up, Dave asks, “Everything all right at home?”

  “Hannah’s still dealing with morning sickness she’s now calling all-day and all-night sickness. Alfie’s helping her. You can imagine how well that’s going.” He smiles as he sits back down across the table from me. It fades, though, and he steeples his fingers, worry weighing down his brow. “I should be there for her.”

  Rivers sets his napkin on his plate and leans back in his chair. “You’re here now so you can be there when the baby arrives. Everything you’re doing is for them. They know that.”

  Jet throws his napkin on his plate empty. “Alfie’s seven. He doesn’t care about concerts or fame. He just wants his dad.”

  Since I’m done eating, I push my plate away and sit back, letting the food digest. “None of this is about chasing fame. It never was for us. This is about making money to support our family. You’ve made enough to buy the house, pay off any college your kids want to attend, and live comfortably. That’s with one successful album. Touring this year and the next album can change things for life.”

  My oldest brother knows this, but he’s always been the one to make sure everyone is cared for. It hurts him not to be there in person. He missed the first six years of his son’s life because he was never told about his kid until Alfie’s mother passed away. Not only does he not want to miss any more time with him, but with his wife having a bun in the oven, he doesn’t want to miss out on the pregnancy either.

  I add, “We’re in Texas in three weeks. We’ll all be ready for that break. Alfie will be out of school by then too.” My nephew stole my role in the family as the youngest, but I couldn’t be happier to give him the title. He’s the best. He’s changed the dynamic of our family for the better. And I’ve gained a sister, one who is genuine, funny, and so great for my brother.

  Jet is calmer these days. He’s been collected for years, but a peace has settled over him since he’s been with Hannah and Alfie. His son is like the kid brother I never had, but way cooler since he never pesters me. Any time I get to spend with the little squirt is a good time.

  He’s also made me think about having kids of my own. I never gave it a thought until he joined our family. Because of him, I see the possibility. Not now, but one day.

  When the waiter brings the check, Rivers tosses his card down first. “I’ll get this.”

  He’s not said two words to me since before the show. I can’t tell if he’s irritated or forgotten our conversation. I’m hoping the latter, but I’m pretty sure it’s the former.

  * * *

  Someone ruffles my hair, which is grounds for a fight until I find Rivers sitting on the arm of the couch next to me. I haven’t moved in an hour, not even to get another drink. The cocktail waitress in the club has been more than happy to make sure my next glass is in front of me before the last is empty.

  I smooth my hair back into place and turn my attention back to the woman who’s held it all night. With my fill of whiskey, it’s hard for me to hide my thoughts. So I stare at her without any concern for who sees me.

  Nikki’s changed clothes from what she wore on stage. That dress was hot on her, but she makes those jeans look sexy as fuck.

  Rivers follows my gaze. “What are you gonna do?”

  Side-eyeing him, I ask, “About?”

  “Your obsession with a certain lead singer.”

  “Take down any guy who wants to talk to her who’s not related to her or on this tour.”

  I don’t have to see him to hear his laughter. He plants his big mitt on my shoulder. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse.” I finally angle around and run my hands through my hair, not caring how it looks anymore. “Don’t tell Jet.”

  “You sure he doesn’t know?”

  “No, but if he doesn’t, I think it’s best he stays in the dark for a while. He has his own concerns. Doesn’t need mine to add
to the load.”

  “I’m the keeper of secrets.”

  “I know. What’s up with that?”

  Scanning the club, he sees a few chicks near the bar who have been eyeing him since he sat down. It’s not easy being the middle brother. Rivers isn’t in charge, but he doesn’t get to be as careless as I’ve been allowed to be.

  He’s never had a chip on his shoulder like Jet used to carry around, but he carries the death of our mother on his back like a two-and-a-half-ton weight. It’s the same weight as the truck that killed her on his seventeenth birthday.

  Rivers can’t be blamed for her death. The drunk driver of that Chevy truck can, but my brother has never been the same since. I don’t blame him, but I wish I could lighten his load.

  His relationship eventually fell apart just like he did. Things deteriorate when we’re not paying attention. None of us were paying attention back then, all of us lost in our own struggles.

  I’m still not sure why they broke up, and he won’t discuss the details. We know a few from living through it, but not the insider secrets he carries from city to city, year after year.

  The guy can get any woman he wants. He’s got the Crow good looks, and he’s the best bass player I’ve ever heard. Women dig his mysterious side, as they call it, but I don’t think it’s a mystery he’s still hung up on his high school sweetheart.

  The flick of his gaze to something behind me causes me to turn. I tense instantly.

  I don’t know who this asshole is who’s crossed the velvet ropes into our VIP area, but he needs to step the fuck away from Nikki. She stops talking to Dave and a girl who’s sidled up to him, and looks at the creep.

  When he runs his hand across her lower back, I stand. Rivers takes hold of my forearm. “Settle. She can handle herself.”

  Shrugging out of his grasp, I glance to the side to see Laird standing up. He hasn’t seen me, but Shane sure has. I can tell by the shit-eating, smug smile he’s wearing.

  After looking utterly appalled when the asshole leans in and says something to her, Nikki tears into him. He puts his hands up in surrender and then leaves just as Laird shows up.

  From behind me, Rivers says, “She’s used to dealing with musicians hitting on her. She can handle a jackoff jerk at a club no problem.”

  He’s right; she doesn’t need me to save her. I set my drink on the table. “I don’t want to spend the next month worried about every guy who comes within ten feet of her.”

  “Then don’t.” After I stand, Rivers does too. “Jealousy is a real bitch. I know firsthand.” He signals toward the exit. “One thing I do know is that alcohol and jealousy do not mix well. C’mon, little brother. Time to go.”

  He’s right. I know he is, but the thought of leaving her here, prey to the sleazes eyeing her, churns unwanted emotions inside me. I look over at her once again, just as she looks at me.

  Rivers tugs my arm. “Get a cab out front and wait. I’m going to let Jet know.”

  “’Kay.” I tear my gaze away and step out of the VIP area before cutting through the crowd. When I find a cab waiting at the curb, I get in and wait for my brother.

  He’s right. I shouldn’t be worried about Nikki. She can handle herself. She doesn’t need me to rescue her, but I still can’t help wanting to be there. The door opens, but it’s not Rivers who gets in the cab.

  Maybe it’s that twinkle that sparkles in her eyes, or maybe it’s her smile that makes me want to give her the world. Just the sight of Nikki Faris makes my night better. But I’m still going to tease her. With a straight face, I try for stern. “Sorry, ma’am, this cab is taken.”

  Nikki tilts her head. “Maybe you can share.”

  “I’m not good at sharing things that belong to me.”

  “Sharing is overrated anyway.” She closes her door and tells the driver the name of our hotel. Getting comfortable, she adds, “You left without saying goodbye.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

  That brings out the big guns. Her smile grows wide and even more beautiful. “Good. I don’t want you to say goodbye either.” When she scoots across the vinyl, her fingertips run over the edge of my jaw.

  I lean into her touch, and whisper, “How does good morning sound?”

  “Like music to my ears.”

  15

  Tulsa

  “Should I feel bad about leaving my brother at the club?”

  Nikki starts laughing. “I think he’s the one who planned this switcheroo.”

  “Switcheroo?”

  There’s no space left between us, but she manages to get even closer. “Rivers told me you were in a cab waiting for me.”

  My hand finds hers, and I hold it. “And you left? Just like that?”

  Resting her head back on the seat, she looks at me and snaps her fingers. “Just like that.”

  Just looking at her causes my chest to tighten. “Flattery gets you everywhere with me, Miss Faris.”

  “I like getting everywhere with you. And since we’re on the topic of getting everywhere—my room or yours?”

  “You don’t beat around the bush.”

  “Why waste time on things we don’t enjoy when we can get to the things we do?”

  “Ah. Patience isn’t your forte.”

  “I’m more a Veruca Salt, stomp my foot, and demand the good stuff now kind of girl.”

  “I love a fast fu . . . um . . . date, but something about you makes me want to slow down to appreciate the journey as much as the destination.”

  “You can be really charming when you want to be, Mr. Crow.”

  “You know what else I can be?”

  The driver says, “We’re here.”

  Nikki rubs my leg. “I can’t wait to find out. Room 812. I’ll be waiting.” The door opens, and she gets out.

  “Beautiful lady,” the driver says, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes, she is.” I enjoy the view of that great ass while paying the fare. “Thanks, man.”

  Walking into the lobby, I’m well aware I’m not a member of The Resistance. I can still go anywhere outside of Austin and not be recognized, but I stop when I see Nikki surrounded by fans near the elevator. She doesn’t look worried, but I am. The crowd is growing in numbers, and there’s no guard or hotel employee to help her, so I hurry over.

  Working through the fans, I raise my arms just as she looks up. Relief fills those blue eyes I’m so fond of. “Last one,” I announce, and as soon as she hands a piece of paper and pen back to the owner, I grasp her wrist and lead her to the open elevator.

  She thanks them and smiles but is on my heels to get inside the elevator. The door closes, and she leans against the wall. “They knew who I was. I’ve signed autographs after a show before, but this time, they were waiting for me when I walked in.”

  I want to stare at her, to take her in from those red lips to her red Converse, but I don’t. Anger boils inside me. It’s illogical and unexplainable, but I feel it, so I keep my eyes on the two bright buttons instead. “You need security. Talk to Tommy.”

  “I’m not sure I’m that well known.”

  “It only takes one crazy person to hurt you, and I don’t want that to happen.”

  Hurt. The word tumbles through my chest. When I look at Nikki Faris standing before me, I realize I can get hurt. It’s been a long time since I had a girlfriend, and back then, it wasn’t serious. I’ve not let anyone get close enough to do any damage—ever, when I think about it. Until now. How did this happen? When? What started out as flirting, maybe a little chasing, has me suddenly worried about her in ways I’ve never felt about anyone else.

  We arrive on her floor first, and the door slides open, but my feet stay still.

  Turning around, she stands, blocking the door from closing. “Tulsa—”

  I hate admitting it, but the feelings she stirs up scare me. This isn’t just sharing our bodies. She’s already digging her way in and squeezing my heart.

  “Tulsa?” I l
ook up, and she holds her hand out, “Come on.”

  “You know you don’t owe me anything. I wanted to do that last night. I don’t need to be paid back.”

  “I know, but I still want to spend time with you.” When I don’t make a move, except the one she can’t see—my fingers holding on tighter to the railing behind me—she asks, “What’s up?” When the elevator starts ringing in protest, she steps off, and, naturally, I follow.

  “I’m starting to like you.” I just put it out there because this isn’t natural for me. These feelings are too big to hide.

  Her laughter is loud in the hallway where we stand. Poking my chest, she asks, “Starting? Geez, thanks.” Her smile is a damn beautiful sight. We start walking. “Well, not to freak you out”—she talks with her hands, big swirls of movement that match her personality—“because obviously liking a girl is new to you, but I already like you.”

  “I love girls.” You’re no girl to me. You’re the woman who makes me wish we had more than a few hours together. I’d sound like an asshole if I confessed the truth even if it means something good when it comes to her. Taking her by the wrist, I tug her to me.

  A flicker of excitement flashes across her eyes and they widen. I bring her in, “Tulsa Cr—” and kiss my name off the tip of her tongue. I love hearing my name fall from her lips, but I like this way more. Her lips part, and our tongues meet in a searing embrace—whiskey and wine never tasted so heavenly.

  Breathing her in, I find comfort in her closeness. “I want to spend more time with you.”

  “I thought that’s what we were about to do.”

  “I want to get to know you better.”

  “Making out is getting to know each other.” She’s reminding me a lot of myself right now when she waggles her brows. “Better.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Pressing her hands to my chest, she lifts up. She’s not eye level, but she still holds her own. “I do know what you mean, and I’d love that. We have a day off tomorrow. Got any plans?”