I have never been a fan of vomit. I’ve cleaned up more than my share over the years. My mother’s mostly, but in recent years, it’s been the guys—Drake’s, usually. But my own? I’ve only had to do that a few times in my life.
This morning happens to be one of those times.
I know I’m not going to make it as soon as I turn over in bed. My stomach gives me a two-second warning before I attempt to jump out of bed. I get to the end of the mattress before I purge all of the meager meal I forced down the day before. The smell of it is worse than the sight.
As soon as I have a small hold on my gag reflex, I rush to the toilet so I can finish. My hair gets in my way, and I get puke in it before I can push it out of my face. The odor makes me gag, and I vomit until I’m left dry heaving. Tears stream down my face, my brow is sweaty, and my stomach is still rolling.
I pray to every god I know of and beg for mercy. None comes. Instead, I have to force myself to stand on my unsteady legs and hold my mouth under the faucet until I remove the taste of bile. I want a shower, but I have to clean up the mess in the bedroom first.
When I finally climb from the shower, I feel somewhat better. I’m running behind, so I have to leave my hair wet and rush to pull on clothes before waking the guys.
I’m not surprised to find that Shane is still covered in girls. The heavy smell of sex assaults me when I open his hotel room door. It makes my stomach protest, but I swallow the rising bile and drag him out from under the three girls. I fist his hair in my hand and yank until he’s on his feet.
“Get the fuck in the shower,” I command, not in the mood to have to deal with sluts after the morning I’ve already had. “I had to give your fucking brother a lecture about this shit, but it’s you this morning.”
“Emmie!” he protests when I push him into the walk-in shower and turn the cold water on full blast. “Fuck!”
“Downstairs in ten minutes,” I bark before slamming the bathroom door behind me. The sluts on the bed are waking up, and I shoot them disgusted glares. “Get your shit and go. You have two minutes before security tosses you out, dressed or naked. I don’t give a fuck.”
Jesse’s still asleep when I walk into his room. The smell of sex still lingers in here too, but at least he’s alone in bed. I don’t even try to rouse him gently. I just fill a glass with water and dump it on his head.
“I’m up. I’m up,” he gasps.
“Good.” I snap and leave him to get ready.
I’m surprised to find Nik is already awake. When I put my keycard in his door, it opens. He’s already dressed. His thick hair is styled and everything. Like always, the sight of him makes me ache in places I shouldn’t be aching. He gives me a concerned frown.
“Emmie? Feeling okay, baby girl?”
Rushing around has made me dizzy, and my stomach is still protesting, but I’m not in the mood to argue with him. If he knows I’m sick, he’ll insist I go to a doctor. Not going to happen.
“Thanks for being up early,” I mutter.
“Em…” He trails off when I turn to leave.
I ignore him as I step into the elevator and go one floor up. Drake’s room stinks of sweat, booze, and sex. But thankfully, the girl—or possibly even girls considering the number of condom wrappers on the floor beside the bed—is gone. He’s already somewhat awake when I walk in. Of course, that’s because his head is in the toilet. The sound of him puking makes my own gag reflex overreact, and I dry heave in the sink. Green bile is all I can produce, and I turn on the tap so I can swallow a few mouthfuls of water. At least now I have something to come up.
Drake’s sweaty hand touches my back. “Em?” he croaks, and I glance down at him, wiping sweat off my upper lip. “You okay?”
I give him a weak smile. “Guess we both had a rough morning,” I mumble.
He groans as he gets to his feet. He’s butt naked, but neither of us cares. I’ve seen every inch of my guys. None of us is shy about our body parts. No one bats an eye when we see one another naked… Okay, maybe I bat an eye or two when I see Nik naked, but I would never let them know.
“You never get sick.”
I shrug. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Take a shower, okay?” He nods, and I turn to leave. “Brush your teeth,” I remind him.
Ten minutes later, they are seated on the long sofa in the conference room. A buffet of breakfast foods has already been set out in front of them. I try to breathe through my mouth to keep from getting too overcome by the smells. Normally, I would make everyone a plate of food and a cup of coffee, but this morning, I don’t think I can deal with that and not throw up. Thankfully, none of them seems to care that I’m not taking care of their needs.
The reporter from Rock America magazine is already asking them questions. He’s skinny with thick glasses and a nasal voice that grates down my spine with each word that comes out of his twisted mouth, and I wonder how this guy became such a talked-about journalist in the rock community. Probably had a daddy who was a big deal, that’s how. I couldn’t have cared less. The man wants to know what every Demon’s Wings fan wants to know. How did they meet? What’s the significance of the band’s name? What are their plans for the summer? When is there going to be a new album?
Like they’ve always done, they don’t answer the man’s first two questions—no one knows where they came from or what their lives were like before they got famous. It’s mostly to protect me so I don’t have to relive my unpleasant childhood, even if theirs wasn’t so happy either. They go into detail about the summer and the new material Nik’s been working on for their next album.
An hour later, the guy stands to leave. After shaking everyone’s hand, he turns to me. “So, how do you like working for Demon’s Wings?”
“Emmie isn’t the hired help,” Jesse informs the guy, even though we all know that he already knew. “Your interview is over.”
The warning is plain and clear in the drummer’s voice, and the reporter makes his escape. Jesse can be a hothead, easy to anger at times and quick to throw a punch. I’ve had to bail his ass out of jail a few times for fighting.
I wait a few moments to make sure the guy is gone before I turn to face them. “I want to say I’m sorry for being a bitch yesterday and this morning,” I say, remorse thick in my voice. I don’t act like a bitch to my guys that often. Honestly, I can be queen bitch when I have to be, but not to them.
“Sit down, Em,” Jesse commands. When I just stand there, he grasps my hand and pulls me down onto the sofa between Nik and him. “We need to talk.”
I bite my lip, scared they’re going to make me go to the doctor. Or yell at me. Of the two, I think I’d rather they yell, but either one would make me cry. Nik wraps his arm around my shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of my still-damp hair. It’s soothing, and just being this close to him makes me feel safe and loved.
“Emmie, we can see that you’re getting burned out. It’s okay. We all are. That’s why we are going to take the summer off.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I already knew that you planned on taking the summer off.” He furrows his eyebrows. “Rich called me last night,” I add. “We’re touring with Axton and OtherWorld starting in September.”
“Fucking Rich,” Jesse grumbles. “We wanted to surprise you.”
“Anyway… We were thinking of renting a house, but we thought you might want to pick where.” Nik smiles down at me, that smile that always makes my heart ache for things I know I can never have. “Anywhere in the world that you want, Em. Pick a place, find us a house, and that’s where we’ll spend our summer.”
My chin trembles. I’m relieved Drake hasn’t ratted me out to the others and they aren’t insisting I see a doctor. So, why am I suddenly sobbing?