Replay: An Off Track Records Novel

by Shea, Kacey

  Casey glances down at his hands, clenching them together and pulling them apart. “I’m only stating facts, not my opinion,” he mumbles, not meeting Sean’s glare.

  “I am fully confident we’re good to resume this tour,” I say, willing my voice not to waver. I can’t guarantee it. That’s the thing about crime, about life; nothing is certain. “Chances of anyone who’s not authorized getting into the arena tomorrow is slim to none, and quite frankly, I don’t think we’re working with a mastermind.”

  The stares that meet mine reflect the same fear and concern I’ve seen a thousand times. They want to trust my words, but they’ve experienced the darker side of humanity and it’s still fresh in their minds.

  “If Jay says we’re good, then I believe her.” Austin’s voice breaks the silence. “She’s the most honest person I know.”

  His words, God, they do something to me. My stomach clenches with anticipation, for what I don’t know. My body heats under the warmth of his stare. His compliment is unexpected, and yet it’s the only thing he’s said since walking in this house that reminds me of the boy he used to be. Maybe fame hasn’t completely stolen the person he was.

  “You think we’ll be safe on this tour?” he asks, catching and holding my gaze. “The fans too?”

  Ignoring the way my pulse races at the trust he’s putting in my hands, I nod. “Yes, I do.”

  “All right, then,” Trent slides a sheet of paper toward his friend. “Better start writing. It may take all night.”

  The proud grin that spreads across Austin’s lips tramples any goodwill I was beginning to feel. I can’t let my guard down around him. I can’t afford to let him distract me, not when he’s obviously a player. The type of man who gets whatever he wants—whoever he wants. He thinks he can flash that grin and I’ll bend to his will. He’s about to learn a hard lesson, because he won’t have me. No fucking way.

  12

  Austin

  Catching a plane to meet back up with our tour bus feels like a bad case of déjà vu. We just did this a week ago, but since then everything has changed. Nerves invade our ride to the airport, the usual banter and conversation gone. We’re all afraid of the looming unknown. Sure, it’s no different than any other day. Bad shit happens all the time. Accidents happen. Life is temporary. But ever since the explosion, those thoughts sit in the forefront of my mind. Same as with my bandmates. Same as the entire crew.

  Fear is a controlling bitch, and I refuse to let it sour this day.

  “Today feels like a good day to not blow shit up. Don’t you think?”

  Everyone in the SUV groans, but it no longer feels as if we’re on our way to a funeral.

  “What? Something I said?” I glance around, a smile playing on my lips. I’m the guy who cracks jokes at the most inopportune times. Why stop now? I’m determined to lighten the serious scowls. By the time we touch down in San Antonio I’ll have everyone, including the team of security, cracking a smile.

  “Just don’t yell bomb before we take off,” Sean warns, but there’s a lift to his lips, as if he’s fighting back a grin.

  “But after is cool?”

  Trent chuckles. “You’re gonna get us detained.”

  “If that includes a full cavity search, I’m game.”

  “You’re a sick bastard.” Leighton laughs.

  A smart retort dies on my lips as our chartered SUV pulls to the curb at John Wayne Airport and I spot Jayla among the team of security. Hot damn. Decked out in what I will forever refer to as Sexy CSI, her breasts press against the buttons of her crisp white shirt, and the thick leather belt that wraps around her waist only accentuates the curve of her hips. God, I love how feminine she is, even in her gender-neutral power suit. Dark mirrored shades hide her perpetually calculating eyes, and her glossed lips pinch into a firm line. She appears every bit the boss of this brigade, and pride fills my chest knowing I made this happen.

  I allow my bandmates to exit the vehicle first, hanging on to the freedom of these last moments to drink her in without being caught. Once I exit the car, I have some serious groveling to do.

  “Come on, Aust. Don’t make us late,” Trent hollers from outside the vehicle.

  Jayla’s gaze flicks to the open door. She’s waiting for me, too.

  A grin pulls at my lips and I slide toward the door, jumping out onto the curb with a wide smile in place. Only, she’s no longer looking my way. In fact, she makes a point of turning away completely.

  “Let’s head inside. The plane is ready,” she says to the security team and turns, removing her sunglasses and allowing her gaze to linger on each of us as she scans our small crowd. Except me. The second her eyes tilt in my direction, she walks away. I swear, if I didn’t already feel ten inches tall, I do now.

  Jayla was not impressed with my list of sexual partners when we met at the house yesterday. Not that I expected her to be. I wasn’t exactly sure how she’d react, but the fall of disgust that took over her features wasn’t it. Actually, if I’m honest, I was embarrassed handing over my list. If she were anyone else, I’d have zealously shown off my conquests like a proud peacock, but this was Jayla. I didn’t want her to know I’d gotten my dick wet in almost every major American city, and some international, all because I wanted to blow off the post-show high with some pre-departure coitus.

  The burn of her indifference as she scanned the paper that held predominately first names hurt the most. It’s something I never considered. All these times I’ve been living my best life, hooking up with whomever I wanted, no strings attached, not imagining I’d someday have to come clean.

  If there was any chance of her wanting to hook up, I pretty much killed it with that list.

  Taking a few long strides, I catch up to Jayla and match her quick pace inside the airport concourse. Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t slow as I approach. If anything, she picks up speed.

  “Hey.” I chase after her like a kicked puppy. “Jay, wait up.”

  She ignores me.

  Fucking blows me off.

  Challenge accepted. I don’t give up easily. I speed walk alongside her, not saying a word. She wants to ice me? Two can play at that game.

  Her gaze takes in everything as we pass through the private gate. She’s cold. Calculated. And fucking hot.

  “I don’t remember you walking so fast.” I break, because hell, if there’s anything I suck at, it’s keeping my mouth shut.

  Her lips pinch, as if it’s work for her to suppress a smart retort. Of course, that only fuels my desire to elicit a reaction from her.

  “There’s a question I’ve been wondering all morning,” I say, hoping she’ll bite. The silence drags between us, the rest of the band trailing a few yards behind. “I know you’re not a cop anymore, but did you happen to pack a set of handcuffs?”

  She acts as if she didn’t hear. Ignoring me. As if that’ll make me stop.

  It’s like she doesn’t even know me.

  “Because I’d be into that.”

  “Stop. Just stop.” Her nostrils flare, and she raises her hand, holding it in the air between us. She comes to a halt and I almost trip when I realize she’s not walking anymore.

  “What?” I flash a smile and glance around like I didn’t just hit on her.

  “I cannot believe that works for you.”

  I stare blankly.

  She rolls her eyes and resumes her long strides. “You seriously think I’d let you handcuff me after a bad pick up line? Jesus.”

  “You can cuff me instead. I’m very open minded when it comes to sex.”

  “Don’t.” Her gaze trains forward and her lips pinch together. “Don’t do that with me.”

  I hold up my hands, the poster boy of innocence. “What am I doing?”

  “Making this a big joke. Diminishing my role. Expecting sex. If you hired me so I’d sleep with you, you must not remember who I am. Or yourself.” She lets out a snarl of disgust and shakes her head.

  Fuck. That’s what
she thinks? My feet falter and I nearly do trip. “Shit.” I regain my balance and break into a jog. “Hold up. Jay! Wait!”

  “What?” Jayla stops, heaving a forceful exhale as she meets my stare. “We have a plane to catch. I have a job to do.”

  My throat constricts and I swallow. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.” She stares over my shoulder.

  “Shit.” I shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “I’m an idiot most of the time, and I make jokes. Because that’s what I do.”

  Her chin lifts, and her gaze meets mine. “I thought you played guitar.”

  “Yeah. I mean, sure.” I rock back on my heels and shrug. “But I’m the guy who lightens the mood when things get too intense. I don’t have a filter. At least, I’ve ignored it for a long time.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re funny.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Yeah, I’m getting that vibe.” I should win an award for self-control because I don’t allow my gaze to drop from hers once, even though her tits must look fantastic pressed together by her arms.

  “Then why say shit you know is gonna piss me off?” She lifts a brow and I swear there’s a slight hint of a smile.

  “Because you’re hot when you’re mad.” I chew the inside of my cheek.

  She blinks as if I’m stupid. “Really?”

  “It’s true! I’m not even kidding. It’s kind of a turn on how badass you’ve become.” I hold up my hands, because I’m being completely honest. “Can we have a re-do? I’ll try not to be an asshole, and maybe sometimes you can smile.”

  She rolls her eyes, but her tone is light. “You really think that’s possible?”

  “I mean, sure.” I wink and give her my most charming grin. “You’re totally fighting it right now. Come on. I know you wanna smile.”

  “Oh, Austin.” She glances up at the ceiling and only then gives in to a grin. She shakes her head and meets my gaze. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I’d prefer something very, very dirty. But”—I quickly amend before she quits on the spot or punches me in the balls—“I want to get to know you again. I missed you, Jay. You were my best friend.” The best one I’ve ever had if I’m completely honest. I don’t say that, though. She doesn’t need to know I’m more like the pathetic loser I used to be in high school than I’d like to admit.

  “I missed you, too,” she admits softly.

  I resist the urge to sling my arm around her shoulder, pull her to my side, and walk us the rest of the way to the gate. Our party is catching up, and I’m not quite ready to share her company, so instead I tip my chin to the waiting flight attendants and begin walking in hopes she’ll follow. “So, let’s start over. How about you tell me what you’ve been up to? How you got into law enforcement and private security.” I want to know everything about her, but that makes me sound like a creep. I can’t ask her the questions I really want. What makes her come undone? How many sexual partners she’s had since our baffled attempt at losing our virginity? My gaze rakes down her body and I clear my throat. “You can tell me about the kind of music you like.”

  “Music?” She stares as if she doesn’t believe me. I both hate and love how perceptive she is. “You want to discuss my music preferences?”

  “Yeah. I mean, besides Three Ugly Guys and Beyoncé.” I tilt my chin to catch her reaction. “What’s on your heavy rotation?”

  “Beyoncé? That ’cause I’m black?” She raises her brows.

  “You’re joking, right?” I laugh out loud. “Don’t think I forgot all the times you made me listen to Destiny’s Child.”

  “I’ve changed a lot since then. Maybe my music tastes have too.”

  “Have they?”

  “No. Beyoncé is queen.” She laughs out loud, really laughs, and my God, it’s the most beautiful sound. Like something I didn’t realize I’ve been missing, I want to hear it again. I want to be the reason for it.

  “So, can we talk on the flight?” I turn to her and hope my face communicates my sincerity. “I’d like to call a truce.”

  “That I can do.” She tips her head toward the rest of band. “After we get everyone on this plane.”

  “Deal.” Pathetic as it sounds, I’ve never been so excited to step foot on a plane. Jayla’s giving me another shot, and this time I won’t fuck it up.

  13

  Jayla

  This is it. The reason I’m here. From the moment the chartered plane hits the tarmac in Texas, through the entire pre-show bustle and concert, to the minute we get everyone safely back on the bus, I don’t have a second to sit. I can hardly breathe, and it’s almost as if I’m holding my breath. We’ve done so much prep work to ensure everyone’s safety, but now it’s go time and the variables are out of my control.

  Despite the nerves that tighten in my chest, everything goes off without a blip or any major issues. One night down. Only twenty-three more to go.

  Relief. It’s clear in every face I meet as we load up and prepare to roll out. The equipment and sound crews follow behind, but Brian, my right-hand man and assistant for this tour, promises to keep me informed and report any issues. The roadies move fast, quicker than the band, and I don’t doubt they’ll hit the road within the hour.

  I’m assigned to the fancy bus, the one with all the talent. I even have my own sleep bunk to show for it. Which also means I’m never off the clock.

  It’ll be fine. I can do this. It’s only six weeks. Besides, I will have a few breaks as the tour includes a few overnights at five-star hotels. Too bad we can’t stop for hotels every night. I’m already looking forward to them, to letting my guard down and not being in a constant state of ‘on.’

  I don’t know how I’ll handle the complete lack of privacy. Or Austin and his playboy ways. He agreed to stop hitting on me, and we actually had a nice conversation this morning on the plane after he apologized. However, I’m not thrilled about the women he’s sure to drag to his bedroom, especially on the nights the band is booked for after parties. I don’t know that I can stand by and watch. Yet, it’s exactly what I’m being paid to do. One of the responsibilities in my contract is to clear any ‘personal visitors’ of band members. I shake my head, thankful we won’t have time for any of that tonight.

  Double checking with the security team, I finally board the band’s bus and check in with the driver. “Hey, Ace. You good to go?”

  “You know it, Miss Miller.”

  “Please, call me Jayla.”

  “Sorry, habit.” He reaches for the gear shift. “You sleep well tonight. And get some of that food before those animals eat it all.”

  “Thanks, Ace.”

  “Hey! There she is,” Austin calls, and maybe I imagine it, but there’s a hint of pride in his voice.

  “Hey.” I lift my hand and give a polite smile.

  Most everyone is gathered around the table in a long booth, and the aroma of Italian food fills the space. I make my way to the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator and searching inside for the ingredients I asked to have stocked. Finding the freshly cut lettuce and cleaned veggies, I pull them out to set on the counter.

  “Jayla, eat. Please. There’s plenty.” Trent points at the take-out trays as I turn around.

  “I’ll have the salad. Thanks.” I grab a big bowl from one of the cabinets and fill it.

  “That’s enough? You won’t be hungry?” Sean asks as he slides out of the bench seat and joins me at the island. He makes quick work of filling two plates with what appears to be seconds.

  “I don’t know how you guys do it, eating like this. I’d be a thousand pounds.” I already feel like a whale next to these girls. Lexi’s at least a foot shorter, but she’s built like a pixie. I don’t think she clears a hundred pounds soaking wet. Even Opal, who’s five months pregnant is smaller than me.

  I’ve always had curves. Those I’ve made peace with for the most part. But it’s the extra weight I’ve put on since I stopped daily running that I can�
�t kick to the curb with diet, try as I might. Maybe being away from my mama’s cookin’, it’ll finally happen. At least, that was my intent when I filled out the request for stocked food a few days ago.

  A pang of ridiculousness hits me for even worrying about such things when I have the safety of the band and concert venues to prioritize. I open a container of sliced veggies and stab a cucumber, sans dressing, with my fork and shove it in my mouth.

  “Careful there, tiger. Save the stabbing for the bad guys.” Austin grins, stepping to my side and filling his plate full of baked pasta and piling on several slices of garlic bread.

  “I don’t stab people.” I glare, holding his cocky stare. I’m annoyed that he picked up on my anger. I work hard to hide my emotions; I don’t need him peeling back the layers. I’m here to work. That’s it. “Besides, I prefer the Taser.”

  “Fuck, you’re hot.” His voice rumbles and I look away.

  “Austin—” Sean groans from across the kitchen island and then levels his stare on me. “I’d say he’s not always like this, but I think we both know that’s not true.”

  “Not cool. You’re supposed to be on my side. Bros before—”

  Sean slaps a hand over Austin’s mouth. “Point proven. Now, please don’t quit.”

  I laugh. “You think his filthy mouth will scare me away? I’ve worked the beat all over LA. Then private security for more than one asshole client. This is nothing.”

  “You must have some good stories,” Opal says.

  Sean scoots in next to her and Leighton at the table.

  “I wouldn’t call them good, but yeah.” I tip my chin to Austin. “This guy is harmless compared to what I’m used to.”

  “Ouch.” He rubs his chest as if it stings. “That hurts.”

  “And he does have a heart! We knew it was in there.” Leighton grins.

  “Fuck you. You’re only pissed your girl likes me better.” Austin blows a kiss at Opal, but she hardly takes notice. Her eyes never seem to leave Leighton.