by K. K. Allen
Terese and I arrive at the venue and immediately walk backstage to claim our badges. We’re in an open-air arena tonight, so the only privacy for the band and crew lies within a cluster of tents and trailers.
The guys won’t be here for a soundcheck until early afternoon, so we spend the morning stealing snacks from the VIP tent and perusing the band’s surprisingly short list of demands. Where’s the single-colored M&M’S and specific temperature water to accompany their classic porn selection? I expected Wolf’s list to at least include his favorite condom brand. Then again, I shouldn’t assume he bags it. Who knows how many of Wolf’s pups are running around out there.
There are a couple of special requests from Lorraine and Hedge, but only because they apparently have food allergies. All-in-all, very boring.
“Lyric!” a voice calls from the other side of the dressing room trailer. I turn to see a familiar face grinning.
I hop up from the couch and pull Terese along, smiling brightly at the sight of him. Doug used to tour with my father as his road manager. Since my father was my primary guardian for most of my childhood years, Doug has always looked out for me like a second father.
It’s only been a few years, but he’s grayed since I last saw him. I guess the pressure of the job does that. But his face still carries his kind blue eyes and his boyish charm. Even at fifty years old, the man is a stud.
He pulls me in for a hug, squeezing extra tight like he would when I was a little girl. “Good to see you,” he whispers.
My throat is jammed with emotion, but I’m able to blink back the tears when we break away from our embrace. “Hey, Doug.”
“Congrats on the tour. This is a big one. Bigger than that Salvation Road crap band you were hanging out with back in Seattle.”
I chuckle at his dig at Tony. I assume Doug knows about our relationship drama since he’s practically royalty at Perform Live. He knows all.
“And don’t worry,” he says with a tilt of his lips. “They warned me you’re just observing tonight. You won’t have to put up with me ordering you around. But if you want to follow me to merchandise now, I can introduce you to the team.”
“I’d love that.” I reach for Terese’s hand behind me and tug her forward. “Doug, have you met Terese? She works in local event promotions. She’s my guest tonight.”
He extends his hand. “Afraid we haven’t met.” They shake, and then we’re taking the venue detour through the remaining tents and through the hidden backstage gate. Doug leads us to the merchandise booth the crew is setting up near the entrance.
“Why don’t you two grab a Wolf shirt. On me,” Doug says, getting distracted by a call coming in on his radio.
I smile, eyeing the collection currently in disarray on the table. We decide on matching black tees with Wolf’s yellow logo splashed across the front and slip them on over our tank tops. “Nice,” Doug says as he turns to introduce me to the crew.
“Lyric, this is Melanie, our merchandise manager. She’s been with the crew for two years and is great at handling the crowd—and more importantly, their money. Her squad, Brad, Stevie, Raquel, and Patricia, will be traveling in bus number two.”
Bus number two is the crew bus. It’s got twelve bunks, one bathroom, and a small living area. It’s the bus I thought I'd be on until Andrew informed me I was riding with the band. I’ve ridden with bands before so it’s nothing new, but knowing I’ll be sharing a small space with Wolf and his entourage makes my stomach churn. I’ll have a front row seat to all the action. Not exactly something I’m looking forward to after leaving Tony.
Terese and I are following Doug backstage when a voice over his radio alerts him that Wolf has just arrived. We approach security, where Doug hands me a radio and places stickers of a purple cartoon wolf on our badges.
“What are these?” Terese asks.
I laugh at her confused expression. I don’t even think about the secrets of backstage life anymore. I’m used to all the tricks of the trade.
“Once the venue doors open, the All Access badges only get us in the main backstage area, on the side stage, and into VIP,” I explain. “The stickers get us anywhere else we want to go. Like the dressing rooms.” I wink as her eyes glow with pride. “Don’t you go backstage all the time?”
She laughs. “Not with free rein like this at a show as big as Wolf’s. I handle smaller events and radio shows, mostly.”
It’s kind of exciting to show someone the ropes. “Come on. Let’s say hi to the band.” We walk out to the stage where the roadies are testing the instruments and microphones. Wolf is nowhere to be found yet, so we hang back and wait.
A familiar face approaches us, a pretty blonde in her early twenties, all done up. The radio badge gives her away, and my memory chugs to life.
“Jenn!” I exclaim with mock enthusiasm.
It’s my job to network with the radio personalities since we’re always promoting the band, and every now and then the band agrees to a little something extra to give back to their local fans. Local public figures like Jenn make those things happen. Most shows it’s just a meet and greet backstage or a chance to win passes to watch sound check. Unfortunately, Jenn has a reputation in the industry for taking certain relationships too far.
I dated a rock star, so I can’t judge too much, but having a long-term relationship with someone who happens to screw you over two years later is a little different than a quick bang with every celebrity who lets you get close. Who wants to get kicked away and be forgotten?
Jenn’s smile is warm and bright, making me wonder for a second if her reputation is undeserved. “I can’t believe it’s you, Lyric. Are you on tour with Wolf?”
I nod. “I am, but I’m not working this show. Just hanging out. This is my friend Terese,” I say, pulling Terese forward. The girls greet each other. “Doug runs the show tonight. He hands over the reins after that, and then we’re off to Raleigh. How are you?”
Jenn waves her arms around, her eyes wide. “Couldn’t be better. This is the show we’ve been waiting for since we heard about it. Wolf has become the hottest thing in San Diego. I can’t wait to see him again.”
The way she says this with a wiggle of her eyebrows confirms my theory about her reputation—and his.
Jenn gives me a mock empathetic look, and I know what she’s about to say. Here it comes. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here. After that last disaster.” She makes a face. “I’m so sorry to hear about that.”
Everyone in the industry knows about my latest breakup. The fans, not so much. However, the media has been starting to hint that the relationship seems to be rocky. I’m sure that with me being on Wolf’s tour, it will all blow up. I couldn’t care less.
Tony made sure to keep a seal on all relationship drama for fear that it would affect his tour. I complied because I didn’t want the paparazzi up in my business either. They can be ruthless, and it’s the last thing I need right now. With my parents so closely tied to the industry, whatever I can do to maintain a low profile is what I’ll do. No questions asked.
Still, it’s totally shitty that my heartbreak was on display for my peers. It’s the one awful part of being so close to the industry and one of the many awful things about dating a rock star. There is no privacy.
“That’s not going to keep me from the music, Jenn. C’mon, you should know better than that.” I hold my smile, although it’s the last thing I want to be doing now. She’s just poisoned the conversation.
“Hey.” Her eyes widen as if in afterthought, but I know better. “If you can help me snag an interview with Wolf, I would owe you big time. He wasn’t able to come in to the station today, and his fans would love to hear from him.”
“Sure, I’ll see what I can do,” I say, hoping by the time she tries to meet with Wolf we’re already long-gone. The plan is to hit the road the moment the show is over. No meet and greets or anything fancy today. If Jenn wanted time with Wolf, she should have tried before tonight.
“Lyric, we need to go. Soundcheck is almost ready to start.” Terese tugs on my hand. “Great to meet you, Jenn. Enjoy the show.”
Terese and I walk away, and I squeeze her hand in thanks. She squeezes back knowingly. “How much you want to bet Jenn winds up in Wolf’s bus after the show?” she whispers.
I laugh. “She can try, but there won’t be much time for romping. We leave right after he gets off stage. Which reminds me, will you help me transfer my stuff from the car? I want to get it over with.”
The group of buses is parked close to the backstage entrance along with the trucks full of gear. The only way I can tell the difference between the buses is by the slips of paper in each of the windshields. I’m with the band in bus number one. The rest of the buses, belonging to the openers I managed to convince to stay on tour, will meet us in Raleigh.
And what a shitstorm that was. Crawley has a reputation too. I guess everyone in the industry has some sort of reputation, but his gives me the creeps. The asswipe promised the opening act forty-five minutes of stage time, a tour bonus, and a per show fee, to be paid at the end of each show. But the dick “mistakenly” drew up the contract for thirty minutes of show time, no bonus, and one hundred dollars less, per show.
Even if the legal team did botch the contract like Crawley said, that gave him no right to argue with the band about it. They wanted to pull out, and rightfully so. But I got the label to create an addendum to the contract to give them what was originally promised and agreed to.
Problem solved.
Kind of. Crawley hates my guts. I get the feeling he didn’t like me so much before, but now, I avoid sharing any space with him I don’t have to. I can’t explain it completely; I just know there’s something about him I don’t trust.
The transfer is quick and painless, but I’m disappointed I don’t get to see the inside of the bus yet or pick out my bunk. I’ll be the last one who gets a say on where I sleep, but I cannot be on the top. When I tried to tell Doug that, he told me I’d have to deal with whatever was left over, but he would put in a word with the driver, Rory, to try and save me a spot.
By the time we’re done, soundcheck is almost over and Wolf is having a sidebar conversation with a red-faced Crawley. That guy is always angry about something.
My focus shifts when Hedge sees us and waves with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You girls look dead sexy in our shirts,” his voice booms from the speakers.
Terese giggles, but my eyes catch Wolf’s light brown ones as he turns his head toward us. We get a nod, and I return it, telling myself not to act stony. I have to remind myself of these things. He puts me on the defensive. We may have come to some sort of mutual understanding last week at dinner, but I want to make myself clear that I won’t be one of his conquests. Still, I need to be careful. I’m not trying to make enemies. Plus, he’s kind of my boss.
I can’t hear what Wolf says before the band kicks off another melody. This one is unfamiliar but catchy. “Wait until you hear this new song, babe,” Stryder says into the microphone. I look at Misty, who's grinning from her seat. She’s clearly smitten, and I can understand why. Stryder has the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and the guy knows how to brighten a room with his energy. He is pure rocker, through and through.
I get excited at the mention of a new song. There’s nothing I love more than the newness, before songs get overplayed. To my disappointment, though, all we get is the instrumental version. The soundcheck ends a few minutes later without so much as a “Check, check, one, two” from Wolf.
Wolf glances at us before hopping off the stage. I think he’s headed in our direction. Derrick follows, his eyes all over Terese. He totally has the hots for her, and he’s not even trying to hide it. Lucky for him, Terese isn’t complaining.
Derrick makes it over to us, but Wolf is intercepted by Jenn. The disappointment I feel surprises me, and then it pisses me off that I care at all.
“I’ll meet you backstage,” I say to Terese, who’s too consumed in Derrick to even acknowledge me.
As I slip backstage, Wolf’s head turns and catches my eye, but he doesn’t move. Of course not. That would be rude. Jenn works for the fans.
The problem is me. I am far too aware of all things Wolf in areas that surpass my job description. That acknowledgement sends me straight to the VIP tent, where I order a beer. I’m going to need a drink tonight. Perhaps many. At least then I won’t care if I end up on the top or bottom bunk.
When the sex god himself appears next to me at the bar, I’m convinced he’s following me. This is a test. If I can keep my libido in check around Wolf, I’ll be blessed for eternity. If I give in to him, I’m headed straight to hell in the form of another heartbreak.
“Damn, woman. I wouldn’t have taken you for a lush.”
I glare at him over the rim of my beer glass. I am drinking faster than normal. “I’m not a lush. Just … anxious.”
“About the tour?” As he leans over the counter, his broad shoulders roll forward to hold his thick, inked arms. A dark gray shirt stretches tight around his biceps and a ripple of his muscle makes me jump a little. He turns away for just a second to check out the beer selection, and that’s when I let my eyes casually skim over his black denim-covered ass. Damn. Wolf doesn’t need the illusion of the stage to make him larger than life. He’s a solid guy. And tall. His hair is short at the sides but thick on top, currently styled like he ran his fingers through it several times, something I wouldn’t mind doing for him if he wasn’t Wolf. It’s too bad he’s a rock star because while I may not be his type, he’s definitely mine.
“Lyric?”
My focus has traveled from his ass to his chest, and now it flickers to his mouth. Thank God he didn’t catch me ogling him. I would never live it down. Then again, staring at his mouth is no better. Wolf has a nice mouth—full and juicy lips, outlined with just enough facial scruff to put to good use in my most sensitive places. Goddamn this boy is mesmerizing.
Finally, dragging my gaze back up, I know I’m going to lose. Whatever war is brewing between my head and the quick-building need between my thighs needs to end. I’m nearing the danger zone.
Wolf is gazing back at me, an amused expression playing on his face. “I think I’m going to like this tour a lot.”
Heat rushes up my neck and I take in air through my nose, trying to ignore it. Turning to the bar, I order a second beer for me and one for Wolf, then start to walk away. After two steps, regret fills my head when I realize I never did answer his question. That was rude.
Pivoting to face him again, I slam into something hard. Him. What the hell is wrong with me?
He holds up his drink and laughs. “Forget something?”
I’ve never been so flustered in my life. In fact, I pride myself on being calm and confident, especially in situations like this. But Wolf simply defies all logic, and he’s making me do the same.
“Shit, sorry. I just realized I didn’t answer your question.”
He’s chuckling when he moves a hand to my face and swipes away a strand of hair caught in my eyelashes. “That’s okay, darlin’. We all have our weaknesses. I’m yours. I get it.” And then he walks off, grinning.
My entire head feels like it’s about to explode, and I'm convinced he chose the wrong animal name for his band. Wolf is a jackass.
I’m present, as in, at the concert, but I’m completely detached from everything I normally love about a show. The crowd is screaming like crazy as Wolf steps onto the stage and howls. That’s his thing. He howls like a wolf, soliciting pandemonium from the crowd before diving into his opening number, “Joke’s On You.”
What a coincidence. That’s exactly how I feel about myself right now. The joke is totally on me.
We’re standing on the side of the stage, but I’m only here for Terese at this point. If it weren’t for her, I’d be somewhere else, hiding out in humiliation, just wanting to sleep it off before the start of the tour. But no, I’m stuck here, lis
tening to this raspy rocker light the open-air theater on fire.
Wolf’s sound can be described as alternative rock that lends itself to both hard and soft. He tends to lean more toward the harder side of rock, but when he slows it down … damn. That’s when I’m listening. His impassioned vocals tear me apart and then put me back together again, and it’s impossible to ignore the vibrations his voice sends pulsating through me.
He’s good at it all. Singing. Strumming. Strutting. The audience is eating out of the palm of his hand, singing along to every damn word of every song. Every song except for one.
I’ll never admit this out loud, but I have every Wolf song memorized, and not because of this tour. I’m a fan of his music. Not him. His music.
But this song I don’t recognize from their set list. It seems familiar, though. It’s got to be the new one they teased us with during soundcheck.
Wolf begins to sing the first line of the song, but then he stops to get the crowd’s attention. He’s building anticipation.
Suddenly, the band stops too, and the spotlights focus on Wolf. “Did you hear that? That’s our new single, if all works out.”
A mixture of high-pitched woos and mangled screams take over the crowd. You’d think Wolf just proposed to a girl in the front row the way she’s holding her mouth, eyes wide with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“But we have a problem,” he continues, his voice booming through the speakers. “And we’re gonna ask for your help.”
This should be interesting.
“Full disclosure. These lyrics aren’t mine. I found them recently, and I couldn’t get them out of my head. We’re about to perform it for you, and let me tell you, this shit is good.” More cheering.
“We’re going to play this song, but we need your help. Pull out your phones, your cameras, your iPads, what-the-fuck-ever you’ve got. Record it. Post it. Share it. If you wrote this gem, we’re hoping you’ll come forward. We’re going to find our writer. But listen up,” he booms, creating a louder roar from the crowd.
