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SHE WALKED INTO THE sound check like she owned the place. Typical groupie in heat: leopard-print fake fur coat, fishnet-covered legs that went on for miles, sunglasses covering her eyes, glossed-up lips and that “fuck me” attitude.
She had to be here for Elijah. Everything about her screamed his type. Elijah shrugged without missing a beat on his bass. Then he shook his head at my unspoken question.
Not his? Well, she sure as hell wasn’t Crow’s type. I wasn’t even sure if Crow had a type but if he did, it wouldn’t be her. And the new guy, Matt—he had no interest in groupies. Not when he had that hot model girlfriend.
She might’ve been my type once. Before I grew up and got serious about my music. It hadn’t taken long to learn that girls like her were bad news.
Hell, we’d only been in Berlin a few hours before we headed to the arena to set up. It wasn’t like any of the guys had had time to pick up. She had to just be a general band hound, looking for what she could get.
And what she could get would be gone. I had zero tolerance for groupies in sound check.
I kept singing and playing but searched the empty arena until I caught the eye of the head of security. I gave a nod toward the groupie. We’d talk later about how the hell she’d been allowed in. For now, I just wanted her to hightail it out of here instead of leaning on the barrier in front of me, all tits and legs and eyes blazing with sex.
Ever since the fans had found out I didn’t do groupies, I’d become a challenge for a certain type of woman. The type who thought they were the exception. I’d been promised the best head of my life, threesomes, foursomes, and much, much more. If the human mind could conceive of it, I’d had a groupie offer it. But I had zero fucks to give. Literally. There was me and my music. I wasn’t a saint, but I didn’t screw around on tour. I had bigger plans. Plans that involved no dramas and no distractions.
Hell, she sucked on a lollipop. Way too obvious and way too immature. But, Jesus, that was hot. She took it out of her mouth and ran her tongue around it. The way her tongue flicked over that sweet orb made my cock twitch. I wouldn’t let my cock control me, though. It was just a visual stimulation.
I tried not to look at her. We were already running about half an hour late with this sound check, but the sound guy just couldn’t get the mix right. For the first night of the European leg of the tour, this wasn’t looking good. I inhaled. I wouldn’t lose my temper with him. That wouldn’t help at all. And I wouldn’t look at that groupie, either.
Instead of staring straight ahead, I checked out the arena. It wasn’t much different from a thousand other places we’d played. Three levels. Cleaner and newer than a lot of places we’d played. A few massive screens around the place. I bet Elijah had sussed out every screen and every camera. He loved nothing better than seeing his ugly mug up there, larger than life. Loved it even more when he got a crotch shot on camera. So did the fans, to be honest. We had to have one showman in the band.
The arena wasn’t that huge. Only around 17,000 capacity. I’d wanted to play somewhere bigger, but management said sold-out shows in a smaller venue would create a bigger buzz. I couldn’t argue with that. He’d also said that the acoustics in this place were phenomenal, but I wasn’t feeling that, not with this sound check.
“Still too much bass,” I said over the mic when we’d finished the song.
That damn groupie hadn’t moved. The security guard approached her. I watched them out of the corner of my eye but went back to the beginning of the song. We’d get this sound right, no matter how long it took. We wouldn’t be going onstage tonight sounding anything less than perfect.
I waited until the security guy was throwing her out to start playing again. He stood beside her, letting her know she wasn’t welcome. Instead of leaving, though, she put her hands on her hips, all sass and attitude. Standing like that, with her coat open, I couldn’t miss the perkiness of her breasts. That dress she wore couldn’t be any tighter.
I don’t know what she said to the security guy, but he let her stay.
I’d made myself clear. No matter what they promised, no groupies in sound check. Ever.
That security guard could say goodbye to his job. I didn’t tolerate shit from the staff.
I kept my focus on the sound desk so she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of eye contact. Still, I was aware of every move she made. She sat down in the front row, legs crossed and that lollipop still in her mouth. She was way, way too much.
A few songs later, I decided we could call it quits. The sound guy had finally gotten it right, and we needed to clear out so the opener could get their sound check done.
“About bloody time,” the groupie yelled out. She’d stood up, hands on hips.
“Huh? Who the hell let you in here, anyway?”
God, she was ballsy. I had to give her that. The way she sneered at me suggested that she was the one with every right to be here, not me.
“The same person who let you in. Now, get your gear offstage so we can do our thing.”
She slowly removed her sunglasses. I ignored her and handed my guitar to the guitar tech. The other guys stopped packing up their gear to watch.
“I have no idea who you are, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, stop being a pest and get out of here,” I said.
She pouted, straightening up to her full height. With her hips thrust forward like that, wildness radiated from her body. I hated that wildness.
“Hey, mister, I’m not getting out and I’m not going anywhere, so pull your head in. I’m here to rock!”
I stared at her, wondering if she was totally sane.
“I’m the support band. Well, part of it,” she added.
A couple of guys came to join her. But... no. There was no chick in the support band. I didn’t know much about them, but I’d listened to their CD. No chick singer. No mention of a chick.
“Is this a joke?”
“What? You don’t believe a woman can play bass?”
She had me there. I exhaled slowly. I’d assumed that the support band were all male. And she was right: a woman could play bass. I just hadn’t expected it to be that woman. Why the fuck had no one told me?
I’d fucked up.
I’d been so focused on other things, I hadn’t checked out the openers properly. I couldn’t blame management or the tour manager or anyone else. This was my tour, and everything stopped with me.
This woman would be on tour with us for the next three months. Already, she sent prickles of annoyance up and down my spine. I’d have to share a bus with her. I’d have to share a stage.
Maybe I could get them kicked off the tour. Anything rather than deal with her, because there was no way in hell she’d not be a distraction. I already hated her. I could not put up with that attitude for the entire tour.
I gathered up my stuff and walked offstage. I’d get out of here and clear her out of my mind. She’d be gone before we left Berlin, if I had my way. No dramas, no distractions. That was my mantra for this tour.
A BOUNCER CAME OVER and interrupted my thoughts. The bulk of him cast a shadow over me.
I’d turned up early for sound check to see if The Freaks lived up to the hype. I needn’t have bothered rushing, though. Damn them, running way over time. We’d hardly have enough time for our own sound check with them hogging the stage. I’d been hiding on the sidelines, but, as the time crept up and they still didn’t even look like they were finishing, I figured I should make myself more visible. Hopefully, they’d take the hint.
“You’ve got to leave,” the bouncer said.
He gazed at me with that “don’t fuck with me” air. I think they teach them that in security school or something. I couldn’t blame him. Dude was just doing his job.
“I can’t leave. I’m part of the circus, buddy.” I pulled out my laminate and flashed it at him.
“Sorry, miss. I got the sign from Damo and thought you were a groupie. He hates them sneaking into sound check.”
“Do I look like a groupie?” I asked him.
He gave me the once-over. “Well, actually...”
My death stare made him back down. Hells, you’d think in this day and age, people would be a bit more enlightened. Some chicks rock; they don’t just fuck rockers. I was no groupie.
Then I flashed him a smile. That got him off-guard.
“You with us for the entire tour?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Well, just don’t do it again, okay?”
He nodded again. Good. I had him in the palm of my hand. That’d be handy. You never know when you might need security on your side.
The guy onstage didn’t look impressed. Damo. I knew his name. He thought he was hot shit. All the music press sang his praises like he couldn’t do a thing wrong, so I sat and watched him play. “The next big thing” and “the savior of rock”, that’s what they called him, but the rock press talk a lot of shit. They’ll jump on any bandwagon, and jump off it just as fast.
All I knew was, opening for The Freaks would be our big break. This tour meant playing to massive crowds. Hell, you just had to look around this place. Three motherfucking tiers of people. And the whole damn arena had sold out for five shows. Sweet Jesus, that was more people than we’d played to in our entire career to date. And Berlin. I’d thought we had a total of zero fans in Europe, but I’d gotten messages from people saying they’d be here to see us. Hell, did it get sweeter?
Sure, most of this crowd would only be waiting for us to get offstage so The Freaks could get started, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t win them over. We’d rock their asses off so they’d forget they’d ever been here to see anyone else.
Damo was a piece of work, though. He could play, I’d give him that, and the songs weren’t bad. But that guy needed to loosen up a bit. He was so full of his own self-importance. Just because you’re the next big thing in rock doesn’t mean you can treat people like shit. You could hear that tightly wound tension in his music. Maybe the average punter wouldn’t notice it, but I sure as hell could.
I had to admit, he was pretty hot—if you liked that type. The dark, broody, good looks type. The lean and muscular type. The sensitive and skillful-looking mouth type.
Okay, that was exactly my type.
But “over-strung musician”? Totally not my type. Not anymore. I’d dealt with enough of that shit in my life.
The bass player—now, he was a bit too loose. I knew his reputation too. When it came to man whores in rock, well, he could practically write the book on it. Not my type at all. He had some smooth bass moves, but they were the only moves of his I was interested in. I’d give him the brush-off early in the tour and he’d leave me alone. Guys like that hated a challenge. Why bother when they had groupies throwing themselves at him? I’d have enough dramas on this tour without adding in a quick rump with the headliners.
The drummer seemed solid. A little bit scary. One of those quiet guys, but he looked like, if he had to, he’d have no worries about knifing a man.
And the rhythm guitarist—well, that had been all over the press, too. Former boy band star Matt Wilde joining The Freaks. He might’ve been known for his boyish good looks once, but he wasn’t here just because of his pretty face. I’d have said he was a better guitarist than Damo. There was pure magic in the way he played. It seemed impossible that he was the same guy who’d sung that bubblegum pop and done those cutesy dance moves.
They changed songs, and Matty moved to the side of the stage. He should have been playing lead on this song, but Damo did it himself. Sure sign of a control freak. Maybe that was what the band should’ve been called: The Control Freaks. The dude had to have an ego as big as the sun. Not my problem, though. I’d stay out of his way. I wasn’t here to make friends. It was a career move.
They had a good sound, but we’d be the ones the crowd remembered. I’d make sure of that. We’d rip that stage up and give the folks a show they’d never forget.
I gazed around the arena. This place would be magic when it was full of people. My body already thrilled with the excitement of being onstage tonight. If only that jerk would get offstage and let us get our sound check done. Typical egotistical rocker, thinking he could hog the space. We’d be left with no time at all before they had to clear the stage.
Finally, The Freaks finished playing.
I stood up, ready to get up there. Miles and Jax were around here somewhere, and there was no way we’d sound like shit just because Damo had been a time hog.
When I told him we were here to play, the look on his face was priceless. Seriously, the dude hadn’t realized I was in the support band? A control freak like that—I’d have thought he’d at least have done some basic research into his opening band. Read our bio, maybe.
He stared at me. Scowling. The dude didn’t like me. Well, that wasn’t my problem. The rest of the band scurried around onstage, packing up their gear, but they kept shooting looks at the two of us. I didn’t think many people stood up to Damo. And I definitely didn’t think many people got the better of him.
But screw it. If he had thing against female musos, that wasn’t my problem. We’d been booked for this tour, and we had a contract. If Damo didn’t like it, he could suffer in his jocks.
Oh, well, this was a big tour. I’d stay out of his way. Stay out of everyone’s way, mind my own business and keep my head down. That was my plan, even if it went totally against everything in me. I’d never been one for keeping my mouth shut, but I could do it for three months if it meant stepping my career up to the next level.
I LINGERED AROUND FOR a while after sound check. I wanted to hear what these guys sounded like. A CD can only tell you so much, and if they were opening for us, I really wanted to hear what they were like live.
“I’m heading off,” Matt said.
“Sure. Meet us in the hotel lobby at six,” I told him without looking around.
I wasn’t sure what the other guys had planned.
That chick walked onto the stage. She really did have the attitude, all snarly and tough as nails. What works onstage is often obnoxious in real life, that’s for sure. The other two guys set up. Miles, the front man, was the only one I’d spoken to. He barely looked at her as he walked onstage. There was some history there, and he made no attempt to hide it.
Then the chick caught my eye again. She stared hard. I had every right to stick around. She’d watched our whole performance without worrying that she might be a distraction after all. She’d taken the fake fur coat off and was wearing a tiny, shimmering dress. I wasn’t sure if that was her onstage outfit or if she dressed like that all the time. It’d take more than long legs and a great set of tits to win over our crowd, though.
Finally, they started playing.
“She’s hot.” Elijah had moved up beside me.
I shrugged. “I just wanted to hear how they sound. It was risky getting an opener that we haven’t seen perform.”
“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Elijah slapped me on the back and laughed. “Crow and I are doing a tour of the city with one of the local roadies. After all, no point traveling the world and only seeing hotel rooms and arenas. Wanna come with us?”
“A tour-tour, or a ‘drinking and picking up groupies’ tour?” I asked him. I knew Elijah’s tastes far too well.
“A real tour. What are you saying? That I do nothing but drink and screw?”
I turned to him with a laugh. “You called it, not me.”
Then the band started playing. They ran through a few riffs, then got into a song.
“She’s good,” Elijah said. “Not just hot, but she’s setting that stage alight, and it’s only a run-through.”
I watched her. Too much posturing. She could play, but she was so undisciplined.
“You think? Or are you just thinking with your cock?” I asked Elijah.
“Dude, check her out. She plays bass nearly as good as I do.”
She had something, that was for sure. There weren’t many bass players who commanded all the attention onstage. Not even Elijah. But when she played, your eyes were drawn to her. They ran through a song with her screaming the backing. That song hadn’t been on the demo, but hell, she had a powerful set of vocal cords. She pissed all over that smarmy front man with his bland voice. I’d have kicked him off vocals and had her doing all the singing if I were them. But it was none of my concern.
At the end of the song, she swung around with her bass, flashing her panties. Hell, the crowd would eat that up. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but I wouldn’t put money on that.
By the time they’d finished the song, Elijah was ready to go.
“Come on. Berlin is waiting. Unless you want to moon around over that chick all day.”
I nodded and made a move. There was a van waiting for us, and one of the local guys came with us. As we drove around, he told us a bit about the history of the place, but I stared out the window, barely listening to him.
That girl. Everything about her irritated me. Why hadn’t I checked out the opener more thoroughly? We’d had a couple of options on the short list, and I’d been wrapped up in getting the album finished. The support we’d booked had canceled just before we were due to leave for Europe, and we’d needed a band who could pack up and join us fast. That was still no excuse for my lack of attention.
The way she’d sucked on that lollipop and the pantie-flashing—so blatant. If she thought this tour was going to be a fuck fest, she could think again. Maybe that would work with Elijah—well, for a one night only, then he’d tire of her and move on to a willing groupie or two. It’d have nothing to do with the rest of us.
Her playing was way too sloppy. Even if she was good, she lacked consistency. You could see that straight off. Would she even stand up to the pressure of touring? You could only get by with attitude alone for so long.
I twisted in my seat, facing Elijah and Crow sitting behind me.
“Hey, Elijah, do you know that chick’s name?” I asked. Not that it mattered one bit.
“Which chick?” Elijah asked.
A shot of irritation ran through me. He knew perfectly well which chick I meant. He was just being a dick, wanting me to spell things out.
“The bass player,” I said.
Elijah got out his phone and checked her out. I could’ve done that myself.
“Polly. Wow, she used to date the lead singer, that smarmy-looking bastard. They broke up recently. No wonder there was a bit of tension onstage.”
God, that made things a heap worse. The whole situation was a huge drama just waiting to happen.
“Miles, he’s the lead,” Elijah added. “Strikes me as a bit of a dick.”
“I guess we don’t need to have that much to do with them. They can stick to their space, we stick to ours.”
Crow and Elijah exchanged looks.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
“You’ve paid more attention to this chick than you have to any woman in the last twelve months. Face it, buddy: you’ve been in your little songwriting cave so long, you’ve practically become a monk. We were wondering if your dick had actually dropped off. But an on-tour fling, that might do you the world of good.”
I sat up straighter.
“I’m asking because she’s on the tour with us. From a purely professional point of view. That’s all.”
Elijah gave a fake cough. “Suuuure.”
I huffed and turned back to the window. Berlin was an interesting city, for sure. So many historical buildings and all that.
Suddenly, Elijah slapped me on the shoulder.
“Wake up, Damo. This dude is going to take us to the best kebab place in Berlin.”
Elijah rubbed his belly. That guy thought of nothing but his belly and his cock, but I wondered if this tour would work out. Maybe I needed to check out the second option on the list of openers, just in case. This band, Wreckage, would end up being just that. Maybe we could even get a local band. There had to be some young, hungry up-and-comers in this town, only too willing to work with us.
It wasn’t that I had any issue with chicks in bands. Just that chick, in that band.
The van came to a stop.
“Damo, stop fantasizing about that chick and get a kebab.” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Jeez, stop thinking with your cock. And you say I’m bad.”
He and Crow laughed a lot as they got out of the van. I huffed and followed them, pulling my jacket around me.
I WAS SITTING ON THE bench in the corner of the dressing room, hugging my legs and resting my head on my knees, waiting to go onstage.
Miles paced circles around the dressing room. When he got stressed like this, he always paced. And then he fidgeted. I fucking hated that. I wanted him to sit down and let up for a while, give the rest of us some breathing space, but that would never happen. He never considered other people. It was all about him. He got that way before any gig, but tonight he’d ramped it up, checking and double-checking every single little detail. It was easiest to stay out of his way when he got like that. He loved having someone to take his tension out on, and I refused to be that person.
I put my headphones on and drowned him out. Still, I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Even if I shut my eyes, I knew what he was doing. His nervousness radiated from him, crashing against me, and he made sure I couldn’t ignore him.
My hands balled up. Once, just once, I’d love to punch him. Or kick him. Or throw him against the wall and make him see that there were other people in this world.
Screw that shit. I stood up. I’d go for a walk around the backstage area. Maybe I could find a quiet space.
“Where are you going?” he asked, the words spat out.
According to him, I wasn’t supposed to leave. He wanted me to stick around and be an audience for his nervousness. The supportive one, sitting quietly while he vented. But those days were over. I wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. He could talk his crap to someone else.
“I’m taking a piss. You have a problem with that?”
He sneered, but he couldn’t exactly stop me. Jerk.
I walked down to the bathroom. Hell, my makeup had smeared. That might be all punk rock as fuck, but I’d almost crossed the border into total slob. I grabbed some paper towel off the roll and rubbed at my face. I couldn’t fix it properly, not without going back to our room for my makeup bag, and that’d mean dealing with Miles again.
I wanted to look perfect when I was in the spotlight, but dealing with Miles’ angst was too great a sacrifice.
Once I’d fixed my eyeliner, I jumped up on the counter next to the basins. A quiet space at last. I leaned back, resting my head against the cold mirror.
When I broke up with Miles, I’d have loved to walk away from him and his issues forever. I’d been tempted to quit the band. Make a clean break. I could’ve joined another band, or formed my own, with sane, rational people. But, worst timing ever, we got offered this tour. The decision had been taken away from me, and I couldn’t let the chance slip by. Instead, I just had to suffer through it. Putting up with Miles was the price I had to pay.
One of the chicks working on the tour came into the bathroom.
“Hi,” she said nervously.
Hell, I made people nervous? What a trip. I wasn’t like I was a big star or anything. Just the bass player in the opening band. She gave me a sideways glance, then rushed into the cubicle. I wanted to call out, to tell her that I wasn’t so scary, but that would just make things worse.
I checked my watch. Probably time to go onstage, anyway. I couldn’t hide out in the bathroom all night. I had a show to play.
I walked up the ramp to the stage area and waited.
I could see the crowd. I’d known this place was big, but now that it’d filled up, it was massive. I couldn’t do this show. Not in front of so many people. Not with this tension in my belly like I wanted to throw up or pee or both at once.
Ah, who was I kidding? That buzz hit me, and I loved it. I needed to get out there and rock. Nerves were for the weak, and I’d never been weak. It was just a momentary lapse in my confidence. Once I had my bass strapped on, I’d be Queen of the World.
“There you are,” Miles said. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Surely I could be trusted to get from backstage to here on my own? It wasn’t like we all had to hold hands or travel in a pack.
“Maybe you could let go a little and just trust me to do my job.”
“Ready to go on?” Jax asked, always the peacemaker.
“Born ready, buddy.” I shot him the finger guns. “Tonight is going to be legendary.”
When we walked onstage, the response was lukewarm. Screw you, lukewarm people. You’d learn your lesson tonight. Then screams came from the front of the crowd.
“Pollyyyyy! Pollyyyy!” a group of fans in Wreckage t-shirts called.
My heart soared. They might be only about a dozen people among the thousands, but they were here for us. For me. Woohoo, die-hard fans. My favorite kind. I shot them the finger guns, and they screamed. Couldn’t beat that.
When I picked up my bass, they screamed again. This would be a night to remember.
“Polly! I love you!” someone screamed.
“What about Jax?” I asked, waving my hand at the drum kit. “He needs some love too.”
They screamed again. Miles gave me a sneer that dampened my enthusiasm. Of course it had to be about him and his ego. But screw him. He could find his own fans.
“Drop it, buddy,” I said. “Let’s give these people the night of their lives.”
At least his shitty attitude didn’t matter when the lights went down. Time to play. This was it. My life. Everything that mattered. I turned to Jax, and the two of us started up, Miles coming in on guitar a fraction of a beat too late. I ignored that. He did that sometimes as a mind fuck. Making us adjust our rhythm to match his.
By the end of the first song, the heat had turned up on that initial lukewarm response. The more they cheered, the higher I got. I stepped forward and planted my foot on the fold-back speaker. Maybe I’d flashed my panties, but hey, if it got the crowd into us, I didn’t mind. You gotta do what it takes in this business. I winked at a guy in the front row.
I swung back to Jax, but my gaze settled on Damo, standing at the side of the stage, watching. Arms folded and that superior look on his face. Fuck him. Fuck Damo and the rest of The Freaks. I didn’t need his approval.
We moved into the next song and I fondled the mic stand, screaming my backing vocals. I was really getting into the set now. The crowd gave me the energy I loved, turning me into a crazy thing onstage. I loved this wildness. I hurled myself around the stage, not knowing what I’d do next. I had them. This was my show.
Then I crashed into Miles.
Hell, he glared at me as though I’d done it on purpose. The bass flew from my hands. There was almost a minute of silence until I got it back on me.
Fuck. Just fuck. The magic had gone.
THAT JERK KNOCKED INTO her! Well, she’d done the knocking, but he’d purposely put himself in her way. That was their issue, but, obviously, personal issues came before music with them. It didn’t sit well with me. Sure, Elijah and I had our problems at times, but once we got on that stage, you could bet we worked as a team. People don’t pay to watch your passive-aggressive shit.
I shrugged it off, then went back to our room. I didn’t need to see any more of that.
“What’s the crowd like?” Elijah asked.
“Pumping. First-night nerves?”
“Not me. I’ve got nerves of steel.”
Yeah, it was Crow who freaked. He had the worst pre-show nerves I’d ever seen. Once he got onstage, he was fine, but before a show, he was always doom and gloom. We used to try settling him, but now we just went with it. So long as he didn’t bug anyone else, he could suffer all he liked. The guy would never be all Zen.
Matt was sitting in the corner with his girlfriend, the two of them talking quietly. He hadn’t brought her to any of the shows back home, but I guessed it had gotten boring sitting around in a hotel room here. I said hi but didn’t like to linger, since the last time I’d seen her, she’d burst into the room naked. Awkward as hell. At least they’d sorted out their issues. Even though I hated groupies around the band, a steady girlfriend like her was fine.
Before heading back up to the stage, I checked myself out. I went for plain stage wear. T-shirt and jeans. Elijah loved the fancy gear. Not exactly sequins-and-feathers kind of fancy, but leather pants and tight shirts. He never minded a bit of eyeliner, either. It worked for him. I’d feel like a dick, dressing like that.
When it was time, the four of us walked up to the stage. Matt walked beside me. Getting him for the band had been a stroke of genius. It took the pressure off me onstage, and his input into the album had been fantastic. He seemed to know the sound I wanted without my having to spell it out to him. In the short time he’d been with us, he’d become an integral part of the team.
I took a deep breath.
“This is an important show for us,” I said. “It’s got to set the tone for the whole European tour.”
Matt grinned. I guessed I’d said that one or two times before.
When we got up there, the openers had cleared the stage and the roadies had everything set up for us. Silence filled with anticipation hovered around the arena, the buzz in the air almost tangible.
“Ready, guys?”
The others nodded.
As we walked onstage, the silence broke like the sky erupting into a summer storm, the thunder of applause deafening.
I grinned. Overseas crowds were always an uncertainty, but this lot was welcoming us with open arms.
Elijah grabbed the mic and screamed out some greetings. I preferred to leave the onstage banter to him. He worked the crowd with all those cheesy lines. I just felt like a dick when I tried a “we’re here to rock you” or the like. He had the sincerity to pull it off, though.
Five nights here in Berlin and every show sold out. I had a good feeling about this.
I strapped on my guitar. The knot in my stomach loosened. I always felt more comfortable with that guitar on. It was my security blanket. A barrier between me and the rest of the world.
We kicked off with one of our older songs. Most of the crowd knew it. They screamed out the words, almost drowning out the vocals. By halfway through the song, I knew this was going to be a great night. Energy rolled from the crowd, feeding us, and we threw it right back at them.
It was only when we’d gotten a few songs in that I noticed her. She stood in the shadows, quietly watching. Not smiling. Fuck that. I’d make her smile. People didn’t watch me play and not smile. I could rock the 17,000 people out there, and I could rock her too. She wouldn’t be so self-satisfied when we’d finished our set.
I’d been all wound-up energy before that, but now I let it all go. The words screaming out over the crowd, the music winding them up, then holding them on the crest of that tension until they could barely stand it. Then, when I had them almost begging for it, we’d let it all go, the music crashing over them.
Elijah grinned at me. He loved it when we played around the songs. I knew that no matter what I did, he’d go one better. Crow just settled into whatever the two of us were doing while Matty worked with us, adding in some innovations of his own. We were the perfect team. That love the crowd gave us was solid, like I could reach out and grab it in my hand.
We finished to stomping and screaming and a mania working up the crowd.
She had to be impressed by that. That song had been pure magic.
But then I looked over at her. She was still scowling. Hell, what did it take?
Then, all of a sudden, a smile broke out over her face. I hadn’t seen her smile before. It changed her whole face. The sullen fierceness disappeared. I wanted to keep looking, but I had music to play. I was still determined to get rid of her. The whole band had a sour vibe. I didn’t often make mistakes, but approving them for the tour had definitely been one of them. But I was glad I’d made her smile. Maybe more glad than I should have been.
Elijah gave me a signal. He wanted to go into one of our faster songs. We had a ballad on the set list, but he was right. We had to keep this crowd charged now that we had them there. I gave a nod and turned to Matty.
We plowed into the intro, a total wall of noise. Almost loud enough to drown out the screams. Hell, this was the best feeling in the world. The love came off those people like a palpable thing. All aimed at us. This was what I worked for—this feeling, this happiness. The chance to let people forget their lives for a short time and indulge in pure pleasure. There was nothing that beat that.
I became charged, strutting around the stage to rival Elijah. He shot me a grin.
When we finished, I looked over into the shadows. I wasn’t watching for her smile; she didn’t mean enough to me for that. But as much as I searched, I couldn’t find her. She’d gone. What the hell? I hadn’t seen her move, but she definitely wasn’t there.
Why did I even care? It wasn’t like she meant a damn thing to me. Nothing.
WHEN I GOT TO THE DRESSING room, Miles was still in his silent brooding mood. He expected me to ask what was wrong, but I’d had enough of that. Half the reason I’d gone up to watch The Freaks was to avoid being around him.
I went into the main backstage area and grabbed a drink. I could see Miles through the open doorway, so I stood with my back to him. A few of the PR people hung around, so I went over to chat with them. I considered going back to catch the rest of The Freaks’ set, but there’d been something in that guy’s eyes when he saw me that really bothered me. I hadn’t wanted him to see me at all. I’d wanted to hide in the shadows and watch. I wasn’t there to connect with Damo. Why had he even looked at me?
The Freaks been brilliant onstage. I’d hated to tear myself away. I could’ve watched the entire set. Instead, I’d run back to safety. That was so out of character for me, and really, what did I care what he thought? One look from him wasn’t going to make me fall to my knees.
Hell, I couldn’t delude myself. Watching him onstage had stirred something inside me, but I had no idea what. Admiration for his skill, more than anything else. Nothing more than that. The guy had problems and he hated me, but that didn’t stop me appreciating his talent.
I finished my beer and grabbed another one.
The PR chicks had a whole load of suggestions for my image.
“Blonde would definitely work for you,” one of them said.
“Yeah, and maybe something a bit softer.”
Errgghh. I didn’t think so. I just nodded and smiled. Then Jax came over to join me.
“Here, talk to Jax,” I said. “He’s way overdue for a makeover.”
The girls laughed, but I failed to see why I had to be the one with the image in the band, just because I was a chick. My image was all me, though, not a stage thing. I dressed how I liked, did my makeup how I liked, no matter what. Having people want to change that just annoyed me.
I went out to the hallway for some fresh air and to escape Miles’ scowling. I would have loved to get out of here and get back to the hotel, but I had to wait around. Fuck knew why. We all had to go in the van together or some shit.
I leaned against the wall, sucking on my beer. The coolness of the concrete felt good against my back. Only a few people hung out in the hallway. Some of The Freaks’ team waiting for them to come offstage. A couple of the crew were wandering around, doing whatever it was they did. There was so much crew on this tour, I’d never get them all straight.
Trouble was, Miles followed me out.
“What was all that about?”
He stood too close to me. I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to back to, not with the wall behind me. He planted his hands either side of my face, totally filling my space with his body. I was stuck between Miles and the wall.
“All what?”
“You know, Polly. You know exactly what I mean.”
I leaned forward, hoping he’d get the hint, but he didn’t move. His breath hit my skin, and his eyes burned with anger.
“No, no, I don’t. So, why don’t you enlighten me?”
“The way you careened into me. You made me look like a fool.”
“Fuck you, Miles. I don’t need to make you look like a fool. You do enough of that on your own.”
I tried to push him away, but he held firm. His snarl got nastier.
“I’m the star, Polly.”
“We’re a team. Well, we were once. Now it’s all about you? Give me a break.” I turned my head to get away from his breath. “You never move over to that side of stage. You know better.”
“Oh, so, that’s your side of the stage now? But I thought we were a team. What do you want? You can’t have it both ways.”
Miles had gone way beyond annoying. He was starting to scare me. That look in his eyes had a glimmer of hate in it.
What had I ever seen in him? Jerk.
“You know what I want? To not have this conversation. What do you want, buddy? You need to settle the fuck down. The most important thing here is the music. And the fans.”
He glared at me, and I glared back. Screw him. He was trying to intimidate me, but I wouldn’t fall for his tricks. If he wanted to play those kinds of games, he’d picked the wrong woman.
“You’re a fucking bitch, Polly. If I could get another bass player, I would. You’re not even that talented.”
I wanted to cut his throat for that remark. Instead, I put my hand on his chest and pushed him off me. It wasn’t a hard shove, but it was enough to tell him to back off.
He stepped back a little. Thank fuck. I needed the space.
“Yeah, good luck with getting anyone else to play with you. Not many people would put up with your crap. I’m telling you now, Miles, you need to get rid of your selfish, shithead attitude. There are three people in this group. Not just you.”
I took a gulp of my beer. If I could have, I’d have walked away. Given Miles the chance to cool down. Three months of this shit and I really would cut his throat just to make him shut up.
“There might be three of us, but no one goes to a gig to see the bass player, Polly. You’re just there to make me look good.”
He started to walk back into our dressing room. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut. He could say that, but obviously there were people who’d turned up just to see me. And that killed him.
“Wanker,” I called out.
“It’s true. You’re pretty worthless.”
“Jax writes most of the lyrics and I share vocals, so get your head out of your ass.”
He laughed without turning around.
“So, what’re you gonna do? Kick me out of the band? Not likely. In fact, why don’t you do something useful, like go blow one of the journos so we get good reviews? That’s your main talent, anyway.”
I didn’t answer. My stomach twisted in knots. He knew how to hurt. Bastard.
Without my even thinking about it, my arm moved back. I pitched that beer bottle at him. Hurled it across the hallway.
I didn’t want to hit him. I just wanted to... Hell, I did want to hit him. I wanted to destroy him.
The bottle arced through the air before it hit the wall and smashed into a thousand pieces. The sound of it shattering was damn satisfying, too. Glass covered the carpet, and traces of beer dripped down the white paintwork.
Miles turned, staring at me in shock.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Damo. Fuck.
The Freaks had come offstage, and Damo was glowering at me like I was some dangerous feral animal who’d found its way backstage.
He glared at the broken glass on the carpet.
My heart sank. That look of disgust on his face brought me back to my senses. I’d done a stupid thing. A really stupid thing. I’d proved I was as trashy as he thought I was.
“Clean this up,” he said to one of the roadies, then swept past me as though I didn’t exist.
What the fuck had I done?
AFTER THE FIGHT WITH Miles, I walked into the dressing room and grabbed my leopard coat. All my important shit was in the pocket. All the other stuff, my makeup and street clothes, I could leave behind until tomorrow.
I’d head back to the hotel. I hadn’t even waited for the van. Screw their stupid rules. I was fine on my own. I had no desire to go back to my empty room, though. I just wanted to be somewhere far, far away from Miles.
Bastard. The total bastard. It seemed like all the good had gone from the band. He’d destroyed it all.
I stomped through the crowded streets near the arena. Bad timing, leaving just after The Freaks had come offstage. I guessed that was why they had a van for us. Still, I’d merge into the stream of fans. I didn’t look that much different from most of them. Short dress, torn fishnets and rocker boots. It wasn’t like I was famous enough to get mobbed.
As I walked, I brooded on things.
God, it hadn’t been that long ago when we were a team. We’d started up the band, the two of us. Roped Jax into joining us later. Our dream had been to conquer the world. Back then, it really had been a partnership. Then it developed into more. A few drinks after a gig one night, and we ended up in bed.
We became a couple. Things had been good. Miles had seemed like a completely different person back then. He’d been passionate about the band, and about me. None of this shitty attitude. Or maybe there had been traces of it and I’d been too wrapped up in my love that I hadn’t noticed them. I’d brushed his selfishness off.
I kept walking with the crowd, but a lot of the people around me were headed down to a subway station. I kicked a can lying on the street. It hit a trash can, then ricocheted. The noise of it could barely be heard over the reveling in the streets. Music thumped out of a club somewhere. People called out. One guy sang an off-key song.
I had no idea where I was headed. I could get out my phone and check Google Maps, but it was easier to follow everyone else.
When the band began to take off, we’d been invincible. But even then, there’d been cracks. Miles had his moods. I’d usually tried to jolly him out of them. I’d sit and listen to his complaints for hours, saying what I could to bolster his confidence. But that got tired real soon. The more I gave, the more he took. Every little thing became a worry for him. He wasn’t talented enough or good-looking enough.
I’d be beside him, telling him he was more than enough. He had the makings of a star.
Never, not once, had he done anything to support me.
It got worse. When we played live and things went wrong, it was always my fault. If they went well, he was the one to reap the praise. If a review mentioned me or a fan wanted my autograph, he turned nasty. I started to realize he didn’t want a band, he wanted a bunch of admirers. Jax and I, we were just there to prop up his ego.
I turned a corner into a much busier street. Food vans lined the streets, people queued to get into clubs. Maybe I should find a bar and have a drink.
“Polly!” someone called from across the road.
I turned, and two girls ran over to me.
“Great show tonight,” one of them said. “Can we get a photo with you?”
“Of course.”
The two girls grinned like crazy and took some selfies.
“You’re my role model,” the other one said.
“God help you,” I replied, and laughed.
“We’re going to a bar. Our friend’s bar. Do you want to come with us?” the first girl asked.
That sounded like a recipe for disaster. Going to a strange bar in a city where I didn’t know the language, without even telling anyone where I was going, was bad enough. Doing it with random strangers I’d met in the street was even worse. But they seemed like nice girls.
“Sure, why not?” I answered. It’d beat the hell out of returning to my hotel room.
We jumped into a cab and went somewhere across town. God, the cab was a BMW. They did things in style here.
I had no idea where I was, but when we got to the bar, a bunch of people rushed over to me. Wow. How did they even know who I was? I never knew we had so many overseas fans.
I had a few drinks, and the whole incident with Miles faded from my mind.
People kept buying me cocktails. Then someone wanted to play darts. After that, things went a bit fuzzy, and I ended up in the back room, chilling on a sofa. I still had no idea what was going on, but that decor! Straight from the ’70s with purple shag carpet covering the walls and lime-green lamps.
I didn’t know if it was being away from Miles or just the booze, but I felt so much lighter than I had in a long time. I could actually be myself. No fear about upsetting someone else. Screw Miles. What had he said? To sack him? Maybe we should. He was a loser with a massive ego.
I started telling the guy sitting beside me what a great idea it’d be to kick Miles out of the band.
“He’s not even that talented,” I said. “He just rides on my talent and Jax’s.”
The guy nodded, obviously proving what a great idea it was. I sat up straight, warming to the subject.
“I’m sure we could get someone to replace him pretty easily. I mean, singing and playing guitar, that’s the easy stuff. And everyone wants to be lead. Singers are a dime a dozen, but it’s hard to find a good drummer or bass player. Hell, we really only need a guitarist. I’ve been doing vocals on the new songs. I’m pretty good, too.”
The guy nodded. He put his hand on my bare leg and stroked my thigh. I wasn’t that comfortable with it there, but I didn’t want to stop mid-conversation to remove it.
“It’s just hard to replace him when we’re in the middle of the tour, you know. Hey, can you sing? You’re not bad-looking.”
He had that high-cheekboned Germanic look, with slicked-back hair and full lips. He’d looked great with a guitar strapped on.
He answered in a string of German.
“Huh? Do you even speak English?”
He shook his head, a regretful look in his eyes. Dude couldn’t speak English, but he’d still been more supportive of me than Miles had ever been.
Someone waved at him from across the room, and he moved off.
I sprawled back on the sofa, watching the reflected light from the mirror ball on the ceiling. Screw Miles. Screw Damo too.
I’d have to deal with the fallout from tonight at some point. There’d been some serious disapproval radiating off him, but for all his faults, at least Damo didn’t seem like a pissy bitch. He’d come straight out and say what the issue was. I’d picked up that much about him. None of Miles’ passive-aggressive shit.
Damo had been fucking cool onstage too. There’d definitely been some magic that hadn’t been there during sound check. That swagger and the curl of his lip. The music had been taken up to another level. He could reach out and grab the audience’s hearts in the palm of his hand and then manipulate those hearts as he liked. That had been damn hot. I hadn’t expected such passion from someone who’d seemed so clinical.
There was more than that, even. When he saw me standing there in the shadows, there’d been something in his eyes. That something had hit me right in the belly. It had coursed through my veins and stirred me up inside.
Probably just irritation amplified by the thrill of the night. But I’d definitely felt more alive than I had in a long time. I’d held my breath until he looked away, then rushed backstage like a frightened schoolgirl.
What the hell had been going on there? I never let guys ruffle my cool, but I’d most definitely been ruffled by him. Ruffled like I’d never been ruffled before.
I sighed and stood up. This bar had gotten boring. Everyone spoke German. I couldn’t understand a word, and I didn’t want to pressure them to make the effort to speak English. Time I headed back to the hotel.
I jumped into a cab, hoping I had the right money and the driver wouldn’t rip me off.
When I got to the lobby, I fumbled in my pocket for the room key. I always lost that kind of shit. Nope, still there. I held the key up and giggled, proud of myself for not losing it. Maybe I was a bit drunk.
As I got out of the elevator, I stumbled. No one could see me, though. This entire floor had been booked out for the tour. No chance of random strangers hanging around. Well, actually, as I passed one of the doors, I had a feeling there was a random stranger in there. A random stranger yelping with delight. That had to be the bass player’s room. I’d put money on it. At least my room wasn’t next to his. I had a poky single room, and The Freaks all had suites, but I didn’t mind. This hotel was still fancier than any other place I’d ever stayed in my life. A tiny single room was enough for me.
I’d almost gotten to my room when I tripped again. Then I screamed. God knew why. If I faceplanted, it’d be onto super-soft, super-thick carpet. That carpet would caress my body.
A door opened.
I looked around.
Damo.
His gaze moved over my body, taking in my tipsy, disheveled state. Then I missed my footing and went sprawling again. Damn it. I couldn’t even stay on my feet.
DAMN GIRL, MAKING SO much noise coming in that she woke me up. I opened my door to yell at her, but before I could make my point, her foot caught on something in the carpet. She stumbled and sprawled.
Without thinking, I rushed to her. It was an idiot thing to do. If she’d fallen on the lush carpet, she wouldn’t have hurt herself. Instead, she fell on me.
The two of us landed on the floor, legs and arms tangled in a heap. She huffed as the weight of my body forced the breath from her. Then we rolled, and somehow, she ended up on top of me.
I opened my eyes without really noticing I’d closed them. Her face hovered just near mine. My lips almost touched hers. She smelled sweet, like fruity cocktails. God, I hoped she wasn’t going to vomit.
She squirmed on top of me, moving around but not really getting off me. The friction of her leg moving between mine didn’t help matters. Surely my cock could realize this was not a sexy situation. The last thing I needed was to get a hard-on with her on top of me. Actually, the last thing I needed was for her to be on top of me at all.
I pressed my hands against the floor to get traction, trying to get up. Even though Polly was tiny, her body weighed me down more than I’d have thought.
“Get off me,” I hissed.
“I’m trying.”
She lowered her hand very close to my crotch, and her hair brushed my face. Her body squished way too much against mine. Warm and soft, with her hand fluttering against my leg. I tried to think of other things.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice so hoarse, I couldn’t hide my growing lust.
“There’s something caught. I’m trying to untangle it.”
“Just rip it,” I said.
“I can’t.”
As she moved, her breasts squashed into me. While Polly’s breasts were far from the biggest I’d ever seen, they were incredibly firm and perky. I could imagine how they’d feel cupped in my hand. The weight of them. The warmth. The hard nipples.
Jesus. I couldn’t think like that. Not with her on top of me. Polly’s breasts were the most off-limits breasts in this world. They were forbidden breasts.
“Have you got it loose?” I asked.
“No. My fingers don’t seem to be working properly.”
They seemed to be working fine to me as her fingertips brushed the tip of my cock. I jerked away from her, but she hollered. That must’ve reefed her clothes.
“Shhh.”
The last thing I wanted was to be caught here, writhing on the floor with her.
“Let me get it. You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, good point.”
She gave a little hiccup that somehow managed to sound cute.
I pushed her gently to the side so her weight wasn’t on me. The thread from my sweater had become entangled with a button on the front of her dress. I tried to pull it loose. God, it had to be that button, right there. It wouldn’t unwind. I tugged it, but the fiber was too strong to break.
Her hand clasped my waist so she wouldn’t fall away from me. Her leg wedged between mine. That was way too close for comfort, but there was no way out of it. Not with us tangled together. I tried to think of passionless things, like ice-cold showers, but my cock had a mind of its own.
“I’ll take to take my sweater off,” I said. “Stay still.”
I tried to get it over my head, but I couldn’t, not with the two of us wedged together like that. My right arm was pretty much useless.
“You’ll have to do it,” I said.
Hell, I was asking her to undress me. I hoped like buggery that we weren’t on the security camera.
“Sit up a little bit,” she said.
I propped myself up on my elbow, and she slid the sweater up on my left side.
“Nope, not working. You’ll have to wiggle down. That’ll work best. I’ll hold the sweater, and you squirm out of it.”
This was shaping up to be one of the worst nights of my life. Well, maybe not the worst, but the most embarrassing, for sure. I moved my hips, easing my way out of the sweater. This stupid plan was actually working.
As I moved farther down, Polly grabbed the sweater sleeves so I could get my arms out. With my left arm loose, I gripped her thigh for traction.
“What the hell is going on here?” Elijah’s laughter rang out in the hallway.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck. The most embarrassing night of my life had just gotten far, far worse. Heat flooded through my body. I’d never hear the end of this.
“It’s not what it seems,” I said, my voice muffled by my sweater.
“Of all the people I thought I’d catch rutting in the hallway of a hotel, you’re the absolute last on the list, buddy. Shit, Damo, don’t you know if you wanna do it in the hallway, you go for a knee trembler against the wall. Otherwise, you get carpet burns.”
“My sweater was stuck,” I said, finally freeing myself.
“Oh, the old ‘my sweater is stuck on your button’ routine. Tried that a few times myself.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Damn. That was Crow. The last thing I needed was more witnesses.
“Look,” I said and held up my sweater, still attached to the button.
Then Polly gave a gentle snore. She was asleep. In the hallway.
I got up to return to my room.
“You can’t leave her there,” Elijah said. “I always thought you were the gentleman in the band. Not the blow-and-go type.”
“I didn’t blow, but I am going.”
“Yeah, you didn’t blow. I can tell by the tent in your pants.”
I gave Elijah a look that would shrink his testicles. Although I was the one who needed shrinking.
“Get her key out of her pocket and carry her to her room, at least,” he said. “Even if you don’t care about her, think what the cleaning staff will say if they find her like that.”
He had a point.
“Give me a hand lifting her off the floor,” I said. “She’s heavier than she looks.”
Elijah helped lift her into my arms, then ran ahead and propped her door open.
Polly sank into my arms, warm and soft, my sweater still attached to her. She wound her arms around my neck without waking, her head resting on my neck. Now that she was asleep, everything about her suggested sweetness, but I knew that was far from the truth. There was not one thing sweet about her.
I got her into her room and lowered her onto the bed.
“Make sure you take her boots off,” Elijah said, then he disappeared, shutting the door.
I did not want to touch her feet, but he was right about the boots. I unzipped one boot and pulled it off her foot. As I removed it, she squirmed a little, her dress riding up way too far. I tugged it down to cover her.
I tried the second boot. My hand accidentally touched her leg as I pulled on it, and she giggled, a soft, breathless sound. There was something overwhelmingly sexy about that giggle. I needed to get that boot fully off her and get back to my room.
The giggle stopped, and she let out a soft snore. That made me smile. I had no idea why I’d want to linger, watching her. That was just creepy and wrong.
Before I left, I tried to untangle my sweater. One simple pull, and I got it free. Damn.
I gave her one last glance. The urge to kiss her forehead before I left became almost too much to deny, but that would be creepier than just watching her. I needed to get away from her and whatever weird magic she had used to get me this confused.
THE NEXT DAY, I TOOK the tour manager, Fartstard, out for coffee. Fartstard wasn’t his real name; Elijah had nicknamed him that the first time we met him. A juvenile joke, but the name had stuck. Fartstard was only too eager to get a free coffee.
There was a small cafe near our hotel. I wanted to talk to him, and I didn’t want to risk the other band members interrupting us. Still, I sure as hell didn’t want him in my room. This place suited my style. The place was buzzing enough that our conversation wouldn’t be overheard but wasn’t busy enough to be annoying, either. We grabbed a booth at the back.
“We need to get rid of them,” I told him after we sat down.
I leaned back in my seat, right foot on my left knee, giving him my “don’t fuck with me” stare. It’s best to intimidate people when you want them to do something for you. And when it came to icy-cold stares, no one could beat me.
That effort was wasted when Fartstard didn’t raise his head from the menu.
Finally, he looked up.
“Who?”
As if he didn’t know. It was blindingly obvious we’d made a mistake putting Wreckage on the bill. I hated making mistakes, but I wasn’t too proud to admit that I’d done wrong. I just wanted this mess cleared up.
This guy was as laid back as they come. Sometimes you had to wonder if he was actually awake. But he got things done and got them done properly. I didn’t care how he did it or how offensive his personal odors were if he did his job well.
“Wreckage,” I said. They aren’t working out as openers.” Then I called out to the waiter, “Two short blacks.”
“Make one of those a latte, and I’ll have a big breakfast with an extra side of bacon,” Fartstard added.
“Didn’t you get breakfast at the hotel?” I asked him.
“Yeah, but that was two hours ago. I’m a growing man, and tour managing is hard work. Dude, you have to keep your strength up in this line of work.”
I shook my head. No wonder he was called Fartstard. All that grease in his belly.
“You sure you want to get rid of Wreckage?” he asked. “They seemed pretty tight to me.”
“Are you doubting my judgment?”
He shook his head, but that look on his face said otherwise.
I was sure he already knew about the incident in the hallway. Stories like that spread fast on tour. Everyone from the guys working the lighting rigs to the sound techs and the people selling merchandise would know about it. I should be damn grateful that no one had pulled out a camera while it was happening.
Then I told Fartstard about the fight backstage. That kind of shit shouldn’t happen. If I’d been walking a little faster, that bottle might’ve hit me. I’d first thought that Polly would be the problem, but it seemed the whole band were messed up.
“Maybe they had good reason.” He shrugged.
“You’re way too easygoing,” I told him.
“I need to make up for you.”
A waiter set our coffees down in front of us. Fartstard looked around for his food.
“Shouldn’t you be talking to your management team back home?” he said. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this.”
He was the right person. He just wanted to dodge the responsibility.
“You’re tour manager. You manage the tour. Make it happen.”
Fartstard picked up a couple of the sugar sachets and stirred them into his coffee. He took a sip, then added some more. The dude was on the fast track to the cardiac ward. I wasn’t about to lecture him on his food habits, not when I needed to keep him focused on the more pressing issue of the opening band, but I didn’t want our manager dying on tour, either.
“I don’t want drama. I don’t want to have to deal with that kind of volatile shit. Get someone else. I don’t care who we get to replace them, so long as there are no bottles being smashed backstage.”
“It’s not so easy, Damo. We’ve paid for publicity, posters and the like, with their names on it. It’ll cost a fortune to change that. Then, they have a clause in their contract. We’ll have to pay them out if they get kicked off the tour. That’s another huge slab of money. You can’t expect the other guys to take a hit just because you aren’t happy.”
He frowned, obviously overwhelmed by the task. But I didn’t care how he sorted this out, so long as it was sorted.
“Take it out of my share. I don’t give a shit,” I told him.
“You can say that, but you don’t know how much you’re giving up. For nothing, really. Just let it go. It might be a one-off thing.”
He could say that, but he wasn’t the one who’d been caught squirming around in the hallway with a drunken bass player. The thought of it made me a little ill, churning in the belly. She’d caused so much trouble in just one day. I’d known from the minute I’d first set eyes on her that she wouldn’t work out. I didn’t want to think about the softness of her body slumped against mine as I carried her to her room, or that soft giggle as I took off her boots. I didn’t want to think about her at all, but while she was on this tour, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.
“If you cover the expenses, you’ll make practically nothing on this tour.”
The waiter brought over his breakfast. That was a mountain of food.
“I don’t care. Don’t you understand? Money means nothing to me. What matters to me is my career, and that means having peace and quiet. I’m thinking long-term here. We need this tour to be beyond a success. So far beyond a success that it makes success look like a pale, washed-out thing. That fight wasn’t even a tiff. It was a full-on fight. If I hadn’t turned up, hell knows what would’ve happened.”
What had happened was that that guy, Miles, had tried to corner me a few times to give his side of the story. I had no fucks to give about his side of things. I got the feeling that if you opened the door to that kind of discussion with him, it’d never end. He’d rant and rave. I never wanted to know about people’s personal issues, and I really didn’t want to get mixed up in it all. They could go. We’d get someone else. End of story.
I picked up my coffee and drank it down in one gulp.
“Just make it happen, okay? No matter what it takes.”
I threw some notes on the table to cover my coffee. I had no idea how much. I didn’t have a handle on this money yet.
“Hey, you can’t walk off and leave me eating on my own,” Fartstard said.
He’d already scoffed half that breakfast.
I shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
I had to get back to the hotel. I had stuff to do. Stuff that didn’t involve thinking about Polly.
THE FREAKS’ SET WAS even better the second night. I hadn’t planned on sticking around to watch, especially with Damo being so snotty to me, but I couldn’t help myself.
He’d walked past me in the corridor before we went onstage and had looked through me as though I didn’t even exist. The other guys all said hello, but not him. No matter what he thought of me, that was damn rude. How hard was it to say a simple hello? It wasn’t like that would kill him.
What the hell had happened when I got back to the hotel? I had vague memories of rolling around with him in the hallway of the hotel, but surely that had never happened. That must’ve been one of those drunken dreams, because I couldn’t imagine Damo rolling around with me anywhere, let alone in the hotel hallway. But my dress somehow had that musky smell of him.
It might not have even been him. Something might’ve happened at that bar I’d gone to. Who knew? God, I had to cut back on drinking.
So, I had no idea why Damo was so pissy.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have thrown that bottle at Miles. The way Damo had glared at me when he saw it had burned itself into my brain. Miles had glared too, but screw him. He’d deserved it, and I didn’t regret doing it. I just regretted Damo having seen me act so trashy. And now I couldn’t resist watching them play.
God, the way Damo’s tattoos ripped as he played guitar, though. I could almost forget how annoying and rude he could be. The movement of his forearms hypnotized me. He did have a certain hotness, even if he wasn’t my type. The way his jeans hugged his butt didn’t hurt, either. He moved across that stage not with a swagger, like most guitarists, but with a quieter authority, as though he had nothing to prove to the world.
But I wasn’t getting my panties all wet over him. No way.
I’d had enough of control freaks in this lifetime. Miles. That jerk. His control freakiness was different from Damo’s, though. I had a feeling that, no matter how Damo felt, none of that would ever show onstage. He was a professional; I had to give him that. Miles was the opposite. His passive-aggressiveness drove me nuts. If he had issues, he should keep them off the stage. He hurt himself as much as he did me, and he hurt Jax, who had nothing at all do with any of this.
Bastard.
At least tonight Miles had made it through our set without being a prick. I’d been on edge the whole time, waiting for him to do something, some jerk move that would make me look like an idiot. And one good night just meant he’d flare up later, like a ticking time bomb of jerkiness.
I hated that I had to rely on him.
Instead of going back to the dressing room, I’d hung around the stage to avoid Miles. I couldn’t avoid him forever, but a few hours’ peace was welcome. I’d kept my bass with me because it gave me comfort, instead of letting the guitar techs pack it away. I needed to practice some stuff, but I’d do it later.
The Freaks moved on to the next song. One of my favorites. I loved the bass line in this song. It sent shivers down my spine. I’d played it a heap of times, just mucking around at home, because it was so awesome. There was something immensely satisfying about playing it.
Just before the chorus, something went wrong. Elijah went off-key, then the bass stopped completely. Shit, he’d snapped a string. The other three kept playing, but Elijah looked like he’d die onstage. One of the techs ran over to help, but it’d take a while. The song would be finished before they replaced that string.
Before I could even think, I grabbed my bass and ran onstage. It might piss Damo off, but I had to save the song. Without the bass line, it was a pretty meh song, to be honest.
Damo scowled at me as if to ask what the fuck I was doing onstage. I ignored him, giving him a wave to say continue on with what you’re doing. He kept playing.
I bumped Elijah out of the way with a grin. He grinned back, unplugged his bass and handed me the cord. Smooth transition, and I came in with perfect timing. Only the most switched-on punters in the crowd would’ve even noticed anything astray. It felt like that had taken forever, but really it was mere seconds. Not enough time to process what I’d done.
Sure, I’d played around with the bass part before, but I’d done it alone. Technically, I knew how to play it, but now I had to work in with the other guys. That took a lot more focus. I put all I had into doing this right. I didn’t even draw a breath. I just made sure I played this right. Moving my fingers—that was all that mattered.
Soon, I had it. At the end of the chorus, I exhaled. This thing was actually possible.
Playing with The Freaks was easy. With Miles, playing felt like a constant fight. He did what he liked, and I followed.
Our own set earlier had been tense as fuck, so this was euphoric. A dream. Sure, the other guys were playing to me in a way they never would for Elijah. Damo seemed to be able to anticipate what I’d do, and he adjusted his playing to match mine. So smooth, so slick.
We got through to the end of the song without me fucking it up. I looked to Elijah to check if he was okay to carry on. He had his bass strapped back on and gave me a thumbs-up.
“Thanks, Polly, for helping us out there.” Damo gave me a gritted-teeth smile as he talked into the mic.
Was he angry? I couldn’t tell.
“No problem,” I shouted, looking out to the crowd.
The crowd gave an extra cheer as I walked offstage. I barely managed to pause and wave. I’d done that, and I’d done it well. The buzz rushing through my body was different from when I played with Wreckage. I’d loved the challenge, and I’d loved the way they played.
My heart pounded but it was a happy pounding. I’d enjoyed playing with them. It made me crave playing with a band who actually worked together. A grin spread over my face.
“What was that about? Trying to big-note yourself?” Miles had snuck in beside me. I hadn’t noticed him until he spoke.
I wanted to ignore him, but he wouldn’t give up until I answered. I knew that.
“Elijah broke a string. I filled in.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
I turned my shoulder. All the happy buzz of playing drained from me.
Miles could think what he liked. I hadn’t been trying to call attention to myself. I’d just seen them in trouble and had wanted to help. Like any normal human being would. It hadn’t been about me, but Miles would never understand that. Even the buzz I’d gotten up there hadn’t been about me, it’d been about the song.
Eventually, he realized he’d get no reaction out of me, and he moved off. As he moved away, I exhaled. A whole bunch of muscles I hadn’t even realized I’d tensed suddenly relaxed. God, working with your ex was a pain, but I couldn’t do anything to change that. I just had to persevere. But, fuck, I hated persevering. It was the worst, the booby prize. The gritting-your-teeth part of life. Clean breaks were so much better.
Just before The Freaks finished playing, I head back to the dressing room. I needed to practice that bass line, and backstage was the only chance I’d get. Thankfully, Miles wasn’t around. He and Jax were drinking with some of the crew. I sat in the corner and got lost in a world of my own music for a while. I didn’t know how long, but eventually, I needed a drink. I wandered out to be social.
Damo was sitting in the corner, fooling around on an acoustic guitar. He called me aside.
“Thanks for earlier on,” he said.
I thought he wasn’t going to make eye contact when he said that. He kept playing his guitar, a lock of hair flopping down over his face, but he suddenly looked up and smiled.
Holy fuck, the force of that smile almost had me reeling back across the room. I tried to stay cool, but that smile tilted my world. The force of it was almost tangible.
“No problem.”
He held my gaze, and I wanted to keep looking. I wanted to show him that he couldn’t intimidate me, but those blue eyes seared into me. They had an intensity that I’d never noticed before. That gaze, and the smile. My body burned. My skin prickled. I became way too aware of every part of me. The faint memory of his body against mine floated into my head. That hadn’t been a drunken dream. It had happened.
I looked away.
“You’re not bad,” he said. “You picked up that song fast.”
I shrugged. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Even though I tried to sound cool, my hand automatically rubbed my neck, and I was pretty sure I blinked way more than normal. I definitely blushed.
He laughed. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh. It really softened his face. He became so much more than the bastard dictator of the tour. I wanted to keep looking at him. I wanted to do other things to make him laugh. And, suddenly, I liked that look in his eyes.
I gulped and started walking to the drinks table. I couldn’t stick around, staring at him. But he took hold of my arm to stop me.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a way that showed that those words didn’t come naturally to him. “About sound check yesterday, I mean.”
“No need to apologize. Just don’t do it again.”
Despite my flippant answer, my heart pounded like crazy. His words, his heart, the heat of his hand on my wrist.
“I was an idiot,” he said. “I guess you can stay on the tour.”
What did he mean by that? Of course I could stay on the tour. Was that even in question? Maybe it had been. The moment, the magic, dissolved, replaced by a leaden heaviness in my belly. This guy might be acting nice now, but he was still holding our future in his hands.
“But try to keep your boyfriend in check,” he added.
“He’s my ex-boyfriend, and I’m trying, trust me.”
Fuck. There was no way I’d take the blame for Miles’ shittiness, but there was no way for me to put the blame on him without it looking like a lame justification.
I brushed Damo’s arm off me. Screw him. Sure, he’d apologized, and sure, he’d thanked me, but he’d made damn certain I knew who was boss around here.
AS I STARED DOWN AT her, something stirred within me. I had to watch that. Just because she was the only chick on the tour didn’t mean I had to start getting the hots for her. She’d sure saved our asses out there, though. Having to stop in the middle of the song could’ve killed the whole mood of the show. She’d stepped in as though she’d been playing with us for years, even restraining that overly zealous style of hers to keep up with us.
The crowd had loved it, too. Almost enough to make it a regular thing.
Hell, no. Her liquid eyes addled my brain, and I didn’t want that at all. But I’d have to cancel that shit about getting them off the tour. That’d be a bastard way to repay her. Half the problem I had with her and the rest of her band was that they didn’t seem to give a shit about music or about the fans, and I couldn’t work with that. But she obviously had enough sense about her.
The silence between us grew as awkward as fuck. I had nothing more to say, but I didn’t want to move away, either. I looked at her as though I was seeing her for the first time, looking beyond the tough rocker chick image and the overly made-up face. She had those sorrowful eyes that would surely turn a man inside out. And those lips. Oh, God, looking at those lips bought back visions of her sucking on that lollipop. I couldn’t get that out of my mind. I was like a pubescent boy with only one image in his spank bank.
Then she shook me off. I grabbed for her again, wanting to explain, but she evaded me.
“Damo,” Elijah called. “Get over here. Leave that poor girl alone.”
“I can look after myself,” she said.
I didn’t doubt that. Even though she was tiny, she sure was feisty.
“Thanks for tonight,” Elijah said. “If you want me to really thank you, drop by my room later.”
“If you really want to thank me, you’ll keep it in your pants, buster.”
The seriousness of a moment ago had disappeared. She could act tough with Elijah, but it was a playful toughness. She knew how to handle guys like him; that much was certain. I laughed at the fierceness on her face, and even more at the disappointment on Elijah’s.
I slapped his back. “I think she’s got you worked out well and good. Stick to the groupies.”
“And try to keep the volume down, too,” Polly added. “We don’t need to hear it.”
She rolled her eyes, then headed to the fridge to help herself to a beer. I watched her as she flipped the top off. Seconds later, Miles approached her. I couldn’t tell what he was saying to her, but his surly expression didn’t look good.
She shrugged.
“Leave it alone,” she said.
I had no idea what was going on between the two of them, but they really needed to sort things out. That tension came back. Just watching the two of them together made my shoulders tighten.
“She likes you,” Elijah said.
“Idiot.” I punched his arm as I walked to the fridge.
“She might not know it yet, and you might not know it, but it’s there. Sparks. Definitely sparks.”
“Not all of us think with our cocks,” I told him.
There were no sparks. There was barely tolerance. Elijah was never as funny as he thought he was, and if he didn’t shut up, she’d hear him.
“Yeah, well, Damo, not all of us spend our nights with only our guitar for company. You can love that guitar all you like, but it’s never going to love you back.”
“Oh, my guitar loves me back. It’s a pure love. The type of love you’d never understand.”
“Hey! Also, what’s this about kicking them off the tour? You decided that without consulting us? You can’t do that. This band is democracy.”
“Forget it. It’s not happening, anyway.”
He shot me a knowing look. I was about to explain myself when a leggy blonde walked in to the room. Elijah forgot I even existed as he honed in on her. Probably for the best. He could focus on her and leave me alone.
Matty came over. “I’m thinking of heading back to the hotel,” he told me.
His girlfriend sat in the corner, sipping on a Coke. The two of them both looked tired. Actually, heading back sounded like a good idea.
“Yeah, I’ll come back too. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll get one of the crew to organize a ride for us.”
I walked off to find Fartstard. He was consulting with one of the crew in the hallway.
“Van will be ready in five minutes,” he said.
I walked back into the backstage room to tell Matt. Polly was waiting with him and Fiona. She gave a start when she saw me.
“Polly’s coming back with us,” Matt said.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I can head back later.”
She didn’t look at me. I’d screwed things up there. I hadn’t meant to say anything about her staying on the tour out loud. The words had slipped out.
God, that’d be Matty and his woman plus the two of us. If Elijah saw that, he’d have a field day. It would look like we were double-dating or some shit. Not that he was likely to notice with his tongue down that chick’s throat. But screw it. We were only driving ten minutes down the road. No big deal.
I shrugged. “You may as well join us. It might be hours before these guys are ready to quit.”
We walked out and got into the van. Polly flopped on the seat in front of me. She stretched her legs out and turned to face me.
“What’s this about deciding to keep us on the tour, anyway?” Polly asked. “Was there any other option?”
“Nothing to worry about,” I told her.
I wanted to take those words back. I wanted to go back to that moment with her liquid eyes and that soft smile. Instead, she scowled.
“If you’re thinking of kicking us off, then, yeah, it is something to worry about. We’re on this tour for the duration,” she said. “We have a contract.”
“Drop it. It’s not an issue.”
“But it was.”
I might as well be straight with her.
“It was. I don’t like drama on tour. I don’t want to know about you and your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, or whatever he is, and all your relationship drama. I don’t want that bleeding over into your performance. So long as everything’s kept professional and offstage and away from me, that’s your business.”
She huffed. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”
For a moment, I wanted to reassure her, but she turned around in her seat so all I could see was the back of her head. There was nothing I could say, anyway. I’d told her the truth, and if she didn’t like it, that was her business.
There was just the silkiness of her hair and that alluring glimpse of skin at the back of her neck and an awkward silence. I’d screwed things up.
WHILE WE WERE WAITING to go onstage the next night, I went looking for Jax. I needed to talk to him alone. For some reason, he was in The Freaks’ dressing room. They were still checking stuff, and Jax was there alone. I suspected he’d been planning on stealing some of their superior pre-show snacks.
“We’ve got to do something about Miles,” I told him. “He’s going to ruin everything. If he’s got something to say to me, he can say it, but he can’t keep acting up onstage.”
Jax shrugged. “You know what he’s like. He’s not likely to change.”
There were two big platters of food, and Jax inched closer to them. They were covered with plastic wrap, though, and he’d need to unpeel that without it looking obvious. We had food in our dressing room, but it was nothing like the luxuriousness of that platter.
“I’m dead serious about this, buddy. If he doesn’t get his shit together, there’s a possibility we’ll get kicked off the tour. That’s not from me, that’s from Damo. He’s been considering it. I can’t deal with this on my own. You need to step in to help.”
Jax grimaced. “There’s not a helluva lot I can do.”
Jax could be way too laid back for my liking, but he was the only one who could help.
“Take him out and get him drunk, then get him laid. I’m pretty sure half his problem is that he’s frustrated. Dudes and their emotions.” I rolled my eyes. “He hasn’t been with anyone since we broke up. At least it’ll put his focus somewhere else.”
I hadn’t been with anyone else, either, but then I wasn’t the one acting like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum. And while it wasn’t the best solution, it was the only thing I could think of to get him to back off a bit.
Jax drummed his hands against the edge of the table. He never stopped drumming.
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Jax said. “You won’t get jealous?”
“Hell, no.”
If anything, I’d feel sorry for any other woman who got mixed up with that jerk. But if it was just a one-night stand, she’d be okay.
Before we could say any more, The Freaks came into the room.
“Why are you hanging out in our dressing room?” Elijah asked. “Can’t get enough of me, obviously.”
He gave me a huge grin.
“More like Jax can’t keep his hands off your delicious sandwiches.”
“Help yourself,” Elijah said. “We never eat half of it. Damo has some girlie freak out about eating carbs, and if Crow eats before we play, he throws up. It’s way more food than I can handle.”
He took off the plastic and offered the platter to Jax. Hell, now they’d have Jax in here before every show. That guy loved food. He loaded himself up with tasty little sandwiches.
“Want to play the bass with us again tonight?” Elijah asked me.
“Hell, yeah. You serious?” My grin nearly split my face.
“Yeah, you were great, and it’ll give me a break to scan the crowd.”
“You should discuss these things with us before making the offer,” Damo said. “But if Polly’s okay with it, then why not?”
I tried not to jump around the room. After all, I had to maintain my cool image, but inside I jumped around like crazy. Jax didn’t look too happy, though.
“That’s not going to help things with Miles,” he said when the others stopped paying attention to us. “He thinks you get too much attention as it is.”
“I can’t help it,” I said. “And any attention I get helps all of us. He should work that out for himself.”
If it had been up to me, we’d all get equal attention, but being a woman, I got opportunities that the guys didn’t, like those “women in rock” articles that should be redundant by now. The few times we’d done photo shoots, people had fussed about my clothes and makeup, then put me up front. Shit like that that riled Miles up, but it couldn’t be helped. I hated it too, hated being treated like the novelty factor, but we were in this to win, and if it took a pout and a sexy outfit, I’d do it.
“He’s never going to be happy,” I said. “I either do too much or not enough.”
Jax put his arm around me. “He’s got issues.”
I didn’t want to mention throwing Miles out of the band. Of course, Miles had only said it because he thought it was a ridiculous idea, but I’d be a helluva lot happier if we had another guitarist. I didn’t want to be his scapegoat forever. The idea just seemed too immense, though. This band had been Miles, Jax and me. Dumping Miles for someone else seemed wrong. It’d be better to just leave and find another band, otherwise Miles would never let up on us “stealing” his band. But even from the start, Miles had been happy to just coast while Jax and I did everything. We were the ones who hassled people to let us play. We were the ones who ran around town pasting up posters and contacting people to get our name out there. We booked the studio time for rehearsals, and we organized everything. Miles took most of that for granted. After we worked our asses off, he’d breeze in to play gigs, then want to bask in all the admiration.
Of course, when he didn’t get that admiration, he got nasty.
And after we broke up, he got nastier. I don’t know what he thought, maybe that I’d wither away and die without him or something like that, but that was never going to happen. I did not need him in my bed or in my heart. I’d been much happier without that emotional rollercoaster in my personal life. I just needed it gone from my professional life, too.
When Miles finally turned up, Jax and I pulled apart. If Miles thought we were talking about him, he’d get all paranoid and crazy. If we could get through the night without that, I’d be happy.
“You guys ready?” he asked.
“Well, since we’re been here for over an hour, yeah, we are.”
Even if I didn’t want to provoke him, my mouth had other ideas.
Miles scowled. “Hey, I’m ready. I don’t see any need to waste time lingering around here. I had important stuff to do.”
That important stuff would’ve been sleeping in, but I kept my mouth shut for once.
“Hey, Miles, want to hit the town after the show tonight?” Jax asked.
Miles gave me a look.
“I mean just us,” Jax said. “A guys’ night out, no chicks allowed.”
I pouted. “That’s not fair. You can’t shut me out.”
Miles’ face perked up. He loved the idea of me being shut out. I knew that’d work better than anything to tempt him to go out.
“Guys’ night out, huh? Sounds fun to me,” Miles said.
Elijah leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs so he could look at Miles and Jax.
“Boys’ night out! Hell, yeah, I’m in,” he said.
I wanted Jax alone with Miles to get things worked out, but I could hardly tell Elijah to butt out of it. Within minutes, some of the other guys, including the crew were into it too.
“Stripper bar!” someone yelled.
I rolled my eyes. That was not what I’d intended at all. Still, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. Maybe a stripper bar and some male bonding was exactly what Miles needed. I’d have a quiet night alone at the hotel.
It was only later that I realized that Damo hadn’t been in on the boys’ night out planning.
WITH EVERYONE OUT ON the town for the night, I decided to work on some new material. Even though I had my own suite, I never knew when one of the guys would interrupt me. I’d been in the middle of nutting a few things out a few nights ago when Elijah had banged on my door, wanting to borrow a t-shirt because he’d only packed two black ones. Like I wanted my t-shirts stretched out over his muscles. I’d told him to go buy himself a new one. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. When I tried to get back to work after that, everything was gone.
The guys would be out all night. Tomorrow was a rest day, no shows, so it wasn’t like there was any need for them to get back any time before daybreak.
After a few hours, I had the lyrics to the new song making some kind of sense, so I took a break. I’d been so caught up in my work, I hadn’t noticed how hunched up I’d become. And how hungry.
I circled my shoulders, getting the kinks out, then called room service.
“Sorry, the kitchen’s closed for the night.”
I sighed. They had to be kidding.
“Wait, you don’t have 24-hour room service?”
“No.”
The staff member went on with a whole explanation, but I couldn’t eat their words, and I didn’t need to know the details. I just wanted food.
“Is there anywhere around here that I can get food?” I asked.
“There’s a convenience store down the street.”
“Thanks.”
I picked up my jacket and grabbed the swipe card out of the slot on the wall. I had no time to waste.
I found the store easily, but the only thing available was some weird sandwiches. That bread didn’t look good, but it was either eat that sandwich or starve. It was probably soggy and tasteless, but I needed something in my belly. I got a bunch of other things, too, just in case the sandwich was inedible. I paid and gathered up the sandwich, the snacks and a bottle of orange juice in my arms. I didn’t need a bag.
When I got back to the hotel, I heard yelling in the lobby, but I kept walking. None of my business.
Then I glanced over. It was her. Of course it was. She was most definitely trouble.
Other than her, the lobby was empty. At this time of night, not many people were coming or going.
“I need my keeeeey!” she screamed.
I pressed the elevator button. I could pretend I hadn’t seen her. She was way too busy yelling to notice me, and I didn’t need to get involved.
The elevator doors opened, and I got in.
I had no obligation. Her people could look after her. That was their job, after all.
She screamed again. I couldn’t make out the words, but there was a whole load of anger in that scream. That woman was a mess of emotions, all bubbling near the surface. I had no idea how a person could live like that. I liked my emotions buried deep down inside me. I put my emotions into my music, not my everyday life.
As the doors shut, I lunged forward, pressing the button and almost dropping my sandwich in the process. The doors opened again, and I sighed. I’d regret this. No, I regretted it already. That sandwich was squished now.
She’d left the desk and was stomping across the lobby, her footsteps heavy on the marble floor.
“Polly?”
She turned, looked at me and kept walking. I rushed after her.
Before she could get out the door, I grabbed her. The orange juice tumbled onto the floor. We both moved to pick it up at the same time, bashing our heads together.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
I rubbed my head. She rubbed hers, then handed my orange juice back to me.
“The damn staff here,” she huffed. “I lost my key, and—”
“You lost your key? That’s not good. You have to look after those things. Security and all that.”
“Well, anyway, I lost it. That damn clerk won’t let me go up to my room. Says I need my passport. Which is in my damn room.”
She bashed her fist against the doorframe. Frustration eked out of her. I wasn’t going to explain that legally, she should have her passport on her at all times. If she could lose her key that easily, she’d probably lose her passport too, and that would cause even more problems.
Despite the anger flashing in her eyes, her lip quivered.
“Can’t you get someone to come down and vouch for you? I’m sure if one of your band members or your manager spoke to them, they’d get this sorted out. There’s no need to get emotional.”
“They’re all out. This damn drinking party. I’ve tried calling, but no one’s answering. If they did, I’d probably not get a bit of sense out of them at this time of night. Screw it. I’ll just sleep on one of these couches in the lobby.”
Oh, yeah, she had a point. The entire crew would be rotten by now.
I gave her the once-over. That heavy makeup now smeared on her face, the short skirt and the mud-caked boots. There was no way she’d be sleeping in the lobby. She looked like a bag lady. A sexy bag lady, but a bag lady nonetheless.
“They’ll kick you out.”
“For real?”
“You think they let people just come in and sleep on the sofas? If they did that, they’d have a lobby full of homeless people. You need to get into your room. I’ll speak to the clerk.”
That was easier said than done. I walked across to the desk, and the clerk looked up and smiled that fake customer service smile. I explained the situation. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him. His fingernails looked so manicured and glossy, it seemed wrong. If a guy wants to keep his hands looking nice, that’s his business, but something about those shiny nails struck me as excessively pompous.
“I need your passport,” he said.
“It’s in my room. I’ll go get it. Then you’ll give her a key?”
“Are you the one who made the booking? Only the person who made the booking can authorize that.”
That would be Fartstard, who was out drinking.
“I can authorize it. This is my tour.”
The clerk gave me a blank look. He wasn’t buying it. I didn’t want to resort to some lame “Don’t you know who I am?” kind of thing, but seriously, didn’t he know who I was?
“We have rules, and we must abide by them.”
As much as I agreed with that sentiment, just this once he could’ve bent them. It was obvious that I wasn’t some criminal off the street trying to break into a room or anything. As much as I hated emotional displays, I was beginning to see why Polly had screamed at this guy. Pompous jerk.
I went back to Polly.
“He’s not going to budge on this.”
Her body slumped.
“Damn it. I’ll talk to him again,” she said.
I could just imagine this scene escalating into something fierce. She’d been angry enough earlier; another attempt might get her thrown out of the hotel. That would be a bitch for the tour.
It was all about the tour. Only the tour. That’s where my priorities lay.
Beneath all the makeup and the toughness, she looked so vulnerable. What would she do? Wander around the city all night? It was cold out there, and she didn’t even have a coat on.
I sighed. “Come up to my room. We can sort something out from there. Maybe the others will be back soon.”
She followed me to the elevator. I might live to regret this, but I had no other choice.
I GUESSED I DIDN’T have much choice but to follow Damo to his hotel room, even though I knew it’d be a bad idea. Not that I thought he’d try to make the moves on me, but in the way that he’d judge everything I did. Like, if I dropped a crumb on the carpet, I’d be judged. But, then, he was the one with the sandwich, not me. He didn’t strike me as a convenience store food kind of guy, but I guess at 2 a.m., everyone is a convenience store food person.
As we waited for the elevator, the silence became awkward. I hated that.
“Thanks for... err... this,” I said. Real interesting conversation starter.
“I can’t have our reputation ruined by fights with hotel staff. If you look bad, the whole tour looks bad.”
Then he smiled, and the sternness of his comment softened.
“Sorry, Polly, but I have to think about these things. I also have to have a comfortable environment. Conflict and tension make it really hard for me to work.”
I could’ve told him a thing or two about that, but I didn’t want to drag up my personal problems. If I could get rid of all the conflict, I’d definitely do that, but without getting rid of Miles, I couldn’t see how.
The elevator arrived.
“What were you doing?” Damo asked.
I looked at him, unsure of exactly what he was referring to.
“Between the end of the concert and now? The others went off drinking, but you weren’t with them, and you seem quite sober.”
“Aha. Gotcha. I’ve just been walking around.”
“In a strange city. Where anyone could approach you in the street.”
“Sure. Why not? I met some fans the other night, and we went out drinking.”
His expression was more surprise than disapproval.
“You do that?”
“Yeah, don’t you?”
Damo shook his head. “Not ever.” He moved his hands in front of him as if to make a wall. “I’m here, and the fans are there. I like being admired from afar.”
That would’ve been a really snotty thing to say if he hadn’t had that self-deprecating smile. Maybe there was more to Damo than I’d first thought. That snooty attitude might not be pure snoot. Like, maybe he had social anxiety or some other condition. There are stranger things in this world. I’d only ever seen him around the other guys in his band. He might not cope well outside of that. The tortured genius thing.
The elevator arrived at our floor.
“Ah, if you’re not comfortable with this, I can try to pick the lock on my door,” I said. “Or I could curl up in the hallway somewhere.”
“You’d be on the security camera.”
I looked up to where he pointed.
“Crap!”
I was sure that if I’d thought about it, I’d have figured they’d have security cameras in a place like this. I just hadn’t thought. And it wasn’t like I’d been making out with anyone in the hallway. But there’d been that time I’d left my room and had been adjusting my boobs in my bra because I thought there was no one around...
“Come to my room. You’ll be fine.”
He said that, but I bet inside, he wasn’t so keen on the idea. Damo had hated me from the start, and I hated him. I did, right? But, suddenly, the idea of spending some time with him seemed, if not exactly fun, at least interesting.
He swiped his card, and I walked in.
Wow, his room. It was nothing like mine.
“Sweet,” I said.
“Yeah, because it’s a suite.”
Had he made a joke? A lame joke?
For reals, he had a massive sofa and everything. This place was about four times bigger than my room. I guessed that was the difference between being the opener and the star. Man, I wanted to be a star. I wanted the big, comfy sofa and the dining table and the luxurious sound system. But mostly, I wanted the opportunities.
I shrugged off my jacket and threw it onto the sofa. My dress was on the skimpy side. It was my onstage outfit. I pulled at the hem, but that didn’t make it any longer.
“Take a seat,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if I eat in front of you.”
I sat down on the sofa while he took the armchair.
“No. Go ahead. I had a kebab while I was walking around. I’m stuffed.” I patted my belly.
He opened the packet of sandwiches.
“Thanks again for helping us out the other night. You picked up the song so fast.”
I laughed. “Not really. I’ve played it a few times in rehearsal. Just mucking around. It’s fun to play it with you guys. The way you all work together is amazing.”
‘Your band doesn’t do that?”
I shook my head, but I didn’t want to get into that with him.
“Why didn’t you go out drinking?” I asked.
He finished chewing before he answered.
“Not my thing. I’m not much of a drinker. I prefer the quiet.”
I nodded. I wasn’t really a quiet person, but going out drinking with Miles would be even worse. He was a nasty drunk. Nasty sober, too, but the drink didn’t help.
“I guess if I had a fancy suite like this, I’d be making the most of it, too.”
He sighed. “No 24-hour room service, though. What’s with that? Instead, I have to go out and buy soggy sandwiches.”
“That sucks. But, hey, we have room service? I never even knew. I’ve been too scared to even drink the Coke from my fridge in case they charge me $50 for it.”
He leaned forward with a smile. “Me too,” he said. “Mini-bar prices are a crime.”
We smiled at each other for a moment. I went to put my feet on the coffee table, but mid-lift I realized that was sure to annoy him. For some reason, I wanted him to keep smiling at me like we had secrets shared only between the two of us. Even if they weren’t really secrets, just an issue with mini-bar prices.
He jumped up and put some music on. That sound system sure was amazing.
I took my boots off and curled my legs up on the sofa. That might still annoy him, but it seemed better than putting my feet on the coffee table.
I could barely keep my eyes open, but it’d be rude to nap uninvited.
Damo played around with the music. I glanced over at him, and he had his eyes glued to me. For some reason, that made me uncomfortable. That gaze was way too intense. I reached up and adjusted my hair.
He kept staring. I looked away. Things seemed to swirl around inside me, emotions that I didn’t want to have when I was alone in a hotel room with him.
I wouldn’t look back. I’d keep my gaze well away from him. I didn’t need to see him. But, without my even thinking about it, my head turned in his direction.
He still kept looking. Did I have something wrong with me? I bet I had panda eyes and my lipstick half-off, but it was rude of him to stare.
Heat flooded through me. The way he looked at me—it wasn’t the earlier disapproval. I quite liked it, but I didn’t want to like it. The antagonism between us had become comfortable.
Then I realized my skirt had ridden up. I pulled down at the hem. Had he been looking? Not just at me, but at my panties? Hell, I should be embarrassed, or maybe annoyed, but that rush of heat left my face and settled between my legs.
I wanted him to want me. I liked that look on his face. As much as I tried to deny it, I had a huge girl-boner for Damo. And that was the worst possible thing I could do.
He coughed, breaking the silence.
“Maybe I should get you a blanket. You could spend the night on the sofa. It seems quite comfortable.”
I TOLD MYSELF I ONLY let her stay so she wasn’t wandering the streets until the rest of the band returned. But there was more to it than that. This girl I’d thought was some clueless groupie had something. And it was something I should stay well away from.
I had to. It’d be totally unprofessional of me to start things up with her. A fling like that could screw up the whole tour. Elijah could do that shit; I couldn’t.
But, hell, when she curled her legs up like that, the whole curve of her butt on display, my cock twitched like it hadn’t in a long time. I had to get myself under control. A glimpse of her panties shouldn’t get me all revved up like a schoolboy. God, though, you could make out the outline of her pussy lips. My first impulse was to spread those legs of hers wide open and bury my face between them. She’d taste so fucking sweet.
My tongue almost lolled out of my mouth at the thought. I pretended to fuss around, finding the right music to put on, but my hand trembled. I hadn’t felt desire like this since—hell, ever. No woman had ever shaken me this way. Sure, I’d wanted women before. I’d played around enough when I was younger, and I’d had brief infatuations, but those feelings had been like a gentle slap compared to the sledgehammer she’d smashed into my emotions.
She looked back at me, but I couldn’t stop staring. I’d get a hard-on right in front of her if I didn’t get my thoughts off that gorgeous mound. I had to think of other things. Crow’s stinky socks on the tour bus. That was an instant boner-killer.
But then I glanced over again.
She was a hot mess. Smeared makeup, over-emotional and out of control. But she was so much more than that. She had a sweetness beneath that image and a lot of sense. Not to mention, she played bass like a demon. I didn’t just want her body, I wanted to get to know her, to explore those hidden depths. I wanted to drown in her liquid eyes.
No. I didn’t.
I couldn’t drown. I wouldn’t drown. I’d stay safe on shore. The only way to survive was to stay well clear of her.
I grabbed a blanket and told her to sleep on the sofa. I’d go into my room and pull the door firmly closed between us. I couldn’t stay in the same room as her and keep myself under control, and that, in itself, worried me. At least with her in one room and me in the other, I could remove the temptation. Because right now, my hands ached to stroke her soft skin and my lips craved her taste and every part of me buzzed with the nearness of her.
Then she got up to go to the bathroom.
She gasped when she walked through the doorway. It was a damn luxurious bathroom by any standards. She moved around, brushing her teeth, then she went quiet.
“Everything okay in there?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I hoped I hadn’t made her uncomfortable by letting her know I could hear her. This situation had become incredibly awkward.
I didn’t want to undress for bed until she came out, since she’d have to walk through my bedroom. I didn’t want her catching me half-undressed. That would make this situation worse instead of better.
Finally, she walked out.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said.
She lingered in the doorway. I tried not to look at her, but the air buzzed between us. I’d keep that distance, no matter what.
“That’s okay,” I said without looking up.
Then I glanced at her. I should not have done that. I yearned to reached out, just to stroke her face.
I tore my gaze from her. That would not happen.
“Do you want to borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I opened the wardrobe to find a shirt. She moved over and stood beside me, so close that I could smell her perfume. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin.
“Wow, you unpack? Even for such a short stay?”
I had my clothes folded neatly in the wardrobe.
“Of course. I’d never find anything otherwise.”
She gave a throaty laugh. “My stuff is all over the place. I never find things.”
I didn’t doubt that. She seemed the type who’d upend her suitcase onto the floor. We were so opposite that it was scary.
I reached over and grabbed a t-shirt to give her. She took it but didn’t move away. She stared at the wardrobe as if my organization system amazed her. I didn’t move away either. I didn’t want to break this moment. Her arm brushed against mine, barely a touch. Just the flesh brushing against the hairs on my arm.
She sucked in her breath, then backed away.
“Err... I’ll try on the t-shirt,” she said, disappearing back into the bathroom.
With a bit of space, I tried to get my thoughts together. This was wrong. I could resist her. I’d had every kind of temptation thrown at me over the last few years and had ignored it all. She was just a girl. Nothing more.
What was going on between us? I should go out and maybe get a glass of water, or at least do something so I wasn’t just standing around gawking when she came out.
She came out of the bathroom in the t-shirt. Hell, I should’ve found a longer one. That t-shirt just skimmed the tops of her thighs. Hell, those legs.
She flicked her hair, not breaking eye contact with me.
“I think this is okay,” she said. “I should sleep.”
She said that, but she didn’t move.
I needed to be strong, to kick her out of my room and make her go back to the sofa, but my body froze. I couldn’t form words. My heart was pounding, and each pounding was a scream for me to grab her in my arms and kiss every inch of her body.
It took all my energy to fight that urge. I had nothing left.
She smelled like the sweetness of a summer day, full of ripeness and potential. I needed to stay close enough that I didn’t lose the scent of her. I stepped closer, fully intending to ask her to leave my room. When I got near her, though, the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t want her in the other room.
I put my hands on her shoulders, and she looked up at me, smiling. Those eyes, the way they shone—avoiding temptation with this girl would kill me. Just being near her put all my senses on edge.
I should back away. I had to. I couldn’t go down a path that made no sense intellectually.
The tension of expectations flew between us. We were close, and we were moving closer, as though drawn against our will. The need to kiss her overruled all my logic.
Nothing else existed but those lips of hers. The lips I’d wanted to explore from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her.
HIS HEART POUNDED. Mine did too. This was something that wasn’t meant to be, but here we were, the two of us, almost embracing. Part of me wanted to grab hold of him, to spur him on, rather than stay dangling on the edge of this abyss, but another part of me wanted to draw back. Damo wasn’t a man you messed around with. I knew that. Damo wouldn’t be a fun fling, easily forgotten. And when it could put my band’s future in jeopardy, I wasn’t sure I wanted to take the chance.
But I couldn’t fool myself. Every atom of my body wanted to take that chance. Every cell tingled. My toes curled and my chest tightened. That was without even thinking about the reaction of my lady parts. But it was nothing, just a physical reaction.
He ran his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Polly,” he whispered.
My name seemed to be wrung from him.
“Yes,” I replied, even though I knew he didn’t need an answer.
I stood on tiptoes, pressing myself closer to him. The solidness of his body held me steady when my own body failed. My hands moved to his chest. Not wrapping around his neck, but staying within the relative safety of his upper body.
I knew once I crossed that line, there’d be no coming back. I didn’t know Damo that well, but I knew enough to be scared about the direction we were headed in.
Run, my common sense screamed. Run now, while you can. But this close to him, I’d become as weak as a kitten. I couldn’t even break eye contact with him. If I did, I’d never get back to this point. This moment would be lost for all eternity. I might be hanging on the edge of an abyss, but I’d become more than willing to take that leap into uncertainty.
I trembled with fear. What was I afraid of? That he’d kiss me, or that he wouldn’t?
I’d never felt so unsure with a man before. Normally, I’d attack, head-on. Never pausing, never hesitating. But this was different. So different. My emotions pulled me in a hundred different directions.
Slowly, he moved his lips to mine. The trembling in my body increased, although I tried to control it. I wasn’t the type to tremble and wilt. His lips touched mine gently, but it set a fire burning inside my body. I moved my hands around his neck. His hands ran down my back. Our bodies pressed together.
His kiss became more insistent, and I answered with my own desire. All common sense fell away, leaving me with this burning need for him. I crossed the threshold, and I fell. All my insides twirled, rushing, pumping. I’d live inside this kiss forever.
Eventually, he broke away.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
My heart plummeted to my feet. He was right, but so wrong at the same time. I wanted to scream, but I pressed my lips together, holding that scream inside me. I had to pretend I didn’t care. If he was going to reject me after kissing me like that, I could at least keep my pride.
“You’re right,” I finally said. “I’ll go.”
I wasn’t sure where. Anywhere but here seemed like a good idea. Of course we shouldn’t kiss.
I wasn’t even that attracted to him. It’d been a momentary lapse, that was all. The late night and all the pressure of the tour building up. I’d grab my stuff and go. Walk around for a few hours until I could get into my room. I’d been a fool. And I knew once I left this room, I’d need to find somewhere I could cry in peace.
As I moved to leave, he grabbed my arm.
“Polly,” he whispered again, the need in his voice disarming.
I turned back to him, ready to tell him to stop messing with me. I didn’t need this shit.
Before I could talk, he swept me into his arms and held me tight. I gulped. He must be able to hear my pounding need. I couldn’t stop now. Even if he said stupid things like “we shouldn’t”, there was no turning back. When he looked at me like that, all the sensible words meant nothing. His words meant nothing. All that mattered was the promise in his eyes.
This time, his kiss took my breath away. No gentleness, just a wave of lust crashing into me. I couldn’t resist that wave. I relaxed and let it carry me away.
I broke away and searched his face. His eyes were burning with desire. The same desire filled my entire body.
He lifted me and carried me to the bed. I wanted to tell him to go slow, but I couldn’t. Going slow? Screw that shit. I wanted him, and I wanted him now.
He lowered himself beside me.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, entangling his hands in my hair.
I nodded. Of course I was okay. The anticipation, the trepidation built up inside me. I couldn’t stop this now even if I wanted to.
He kissed me again.
The line had been well and truly crossed.
THIS HADN’T BEEN WHAT I’d intended at all. So much of me screamed that I should stay well away from this woman. There was nothing but trouble in her, but my need for her overrode all of that. I’d been so tightly wound up for so long that I’d forgotten just how wonderful life could feel. If I wanted to, I could write songs like I’d never written before. But who wants to write songs when they have a beautiful woman lying on their bed?
I kissed her again. Kissing—that was one of those things I’d almost forgotten. The magic of falling into someone’s embrace and losing yourself. When we’d gotten entangled in the hallway the other night, I’d wanted to lose myself in her, but I’d fought it. As much as I’d responded to her physically, I couldn’t take advantage of that. I’d needed to use every bit of control I had in me to fight against her. She’d been drunk, and it was a stupid situation. Now, I didn’t need to fight. That smile, those alluring eyes, were holding nothing back. Knowing she wanted this as much as I did made the world a much sweeter place.
I kissed her neck. She wriggled but held me tighter, her fingers digging into my arms, and her urging fired me up. I stroked my fingers over the soft skin of her arms, trailing them down over that dress that just got in my way now. I pulled at the hem, raising it up to expose her belly.
My fingers played with her soft belly skin, making her giggle and squirm. That giggle was all sex.
“That tickles,” she said breathlessly.
“I can stop.”
“Hell, no.”
I lowered my head and trailed kisses along that skin, and she sucked in her breath. I kissed down to her belly button, then lower and lower. The lower I went, the more her breath hitched. That sound was music to my ears. Sexy and husky and sweet.
She tried to pull me back to her mouth, but I wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. I kissed along the edge of her panties as her fingers twisted in my hair. Then I moved down between her legs.
If I’d thought about sex with Polly, which I had way too much since I’d met her, I’d have expected her to be more aggressive, almost fighting for control. I hadn’t expected her to be so willing to take the pleasure I wanted to give her.
As I looked up at her, she smiled, lazy and self-satisfied. When she smiled like that, it just made me harder. My cock ached to be inside her now. Right now. But I’d be damned if I’d rush this. I’d waited this long to find a woman I wanted to be with, and I could wait a little longer.
I moved my fingers along the dampness of her panties, tracing the edge of her lips. That hitched breathing had turned to definite sighs now, and she bucked under my touch. Each buck of her hips sent a shot right to my cock. Could she be any more perfect?
When I put my mouth to her, she let out a squeal. That noise was the best gift she could give me. I wanted to make sure that this was the best night of her life, that it’d wipe away the memory of anyone she’d had before me.
She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and pushed them down. I loved that impatience, but I held her hands, easing them away.
“No,” she said.
She desperately wanted those panties off. She tried to push them down again, but I wrestled her hands away.
“Come on, Damo. Don’t toy with me,” she said.
But toying with her was exactly my plan. I wanted to see her desperate and begging. I wanted to watch those liquid eyes fill with need.
“Do you really want this?” I asked, running my fingers under her elastic. Just the tips of my fingers, just enough to promise.
“Hell, yeah. Yes. Yes. Please.”
I laughed at the pleading in her voice.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and glared at me.
“If you don’t make me come in the next few minutes, I will seriously kill you. I’m not joking.”
I laughed as she flopped back down, but I couldn’t deny her request. I inched those panties down over her thighs, spreading her wide open in front of me.
The gorgeousness of her like that took my breath away. The moans that came from her became guttural and wild when I touched her, and that was before I even put my mouth to her thigh and sucked lightly on the silky-soft flesh. Her body rose up to meet me as though she couldn’t get close enough to me.
When I finally put my mouth to her luscious pussy, she almost exploded. The moans became screams, her body became covered in a sheen of sweat, and her fingers twisted in the bedsheets.
Her clit had swollen like an overripe berry. When I took to it with my tongue, she writhed so hard, I needed to grasp her thighs to keep her in place. Her screamed ripped through the air. Thank god, the other guys were out for the night. There’d be no disguising that sound. But I loved it. I wanted to hear her scream like that for the rest of my life.
I pressed my mouth tighter to her even as she reached the peak of her orgasm. Even with the waves of pleasure ripping through her body. She tried to push me away, but I wanted to push her beyond the edge. Her nails ripped into my shoulders. She screamed words that made no sense, her body stiff and tense.
That drove me crazy. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to be inside her. I wanted to ride those waves, feeling her pussy throb with the strength of her orgasm, grabbing my cock tight. I took off my pants and reached for a condom in the dresser drawer, even though losing contact with her body for that short time was torture.
When I entered her, I knew I’d found perfection. Her pussy squeezed my cock tight, and it took all my strength to not blow straight away. She ran her nails down my back, urging me on. As much as I wanted to take this slowly, teasing her even more, a primal instinct took over and I thrust hard inside her.
God, nothing in this world felt as good as her pussy. She gripped me tighter while her nails dug into me. I watched the joy wash over her face, making her more beautiful than any woman I’d ever met. I lost myself in her, the two of us merging into one being, hell-bent on pleasure.
When she bit down on my neck, I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final thrust, I reached the zenith of my pleasure.
That had been amazing.
I pulled her into my arms and held her, knowing I would never want to let her go.
A NOISE IN THE HALLWAY woke me up. The guys were back, and I needed to get my room key before they crashed. Not that I wasn’t happy snuggled up in Damo’s arms, but I wanted access to my stuff. Clean undies would be a good thing, and fresh makeup.
I threw my dress back on and rushed out.
“Oi, Fartstard,” I yelled out. “I need you.”
“Yeah, you do,” he replied, giving me a sleazy wink.
“Eww, no way. I need you come down to reception with me.”
He stepped forward while the other guys lolled around the foyer near the elevator. Half of them needed to lean on the walls to keep upright. I was sure they could all go back to their rooms without getting involved in this, but none of them moved.
Then I noticed Miles. He glared at me with a hatred so intense, it burned. And not just that. Glances were being exchanged among all the guys.
Shit. I’d rushed out of Damo’s room half-dressed. These guys might be drunk and they might be addled, but they weren’t totally comatose. I might as well have been carrying a neon sign saying, “Damo and I are screwing.” I’d really hoped I’d be able to sneak down that hallway without them noticing which room I’d come from, but no such luck. They knew. They all knew.
“Jesus,” Elijah said. “Damo stayed behind and scored better than any of us.”
I shot him the daggers, but it’d take more than that to shut him up. Elijah had a monster mouth.
I wasn’t going to explain the situation. Any explanation I could give would be met with mockery. There was no maliciousness in them, though. In none of them but Miles.
I put my hand on my hip. I’d ignore all the unspoken questions and just be glad that the questions remained unspoken.
“I lost my key. The bastard on the desk wouldn’t give me a replacement, so I had to crash in Damo’s room. I need the person who booked the room. That’d be you, Fartstard.”
“You know I’d be more likely to do you a favor if you used my real name,” he said.
I harrumphed. “Like anyone on the tour even knows your real name. You got a problem, talk to Elijah. He started this. Anyway, it’s not a favor, it’s your job.”
I walked over and pressed the elevator button. Fartstard lingered while the other guys went to their rooms.
“What happened?” I asked him when we got into the elevator.
I bashed the ground floor button. Hopefully, that annoying bastard on the desk downstairs had finished his shift and I’d get someone reasonable to help.
“Huh?”
“A bunch of the biggest international rock stars in town, and the lot of you come home alone? That doesn’t seem right to me.”
“Me neither. I was hoping for some castoffs, at least.”
I leaned against the back wall. There were way too many mirrors in this elevator, and I wasn’t looking my best.
“You’ll never get a woman thinking like that,” I told him. “It’s degrading and offensive.”
He shrugged. “Hey, I’m an average guy with a flabby belly on tour with some of the hottest guys in the world. Chicks, they just want hot rock stars. They’re so shallow. I’m a nice guy, but they don’t care about personality.”
Jesus, spare me from self-proclaimed nice guys. As his stench wafted toward me, I put my hand up, covering my face.
“Dude, you are so not a nice guy. You’re a sleazy bottom-feeder. Face it. Own it. Find a chick who wants that. I’m not sure where, but there must be someone out there whose type is sleazy bottom-feeder.”
His eyes lit up. “You think so?”
I rolled my eyes.
The elevator arrived on the ground floor. I felt sorry for anyone getting in after us. Fartstard hadn’t gotten his nickname just for the lolz.
There was a different clerk on the desk, and it took about five seconds to get the key thing sorted out. I didn’t even need Fartstard with me. That other clerk had been a jerk. Jerk Clerk, that’s what I’d call him.
“Do you know where you lost your key?” the new clerk asked.
“Maybe when I stopped at the kebab stand,” I said.
“Which one? We might be able to track it down.”
“Dude, it was a kebab stand. One of a zillion in this city. I have no idea.”
He didn’t even look up. “I’ll deactivate it and get you a new one. Be a bit more careful with this one.”
“Yes, sir.” I thought about adding a salute but decided not to ruffle him.
I signed a form and got the new key.
“Hey, why wouldn’t the other guy do this?” I asked. “He was a complete jerk over it.”
The clerk just shrugged. But really, I should put in a report to the hotel management. He’d caused major problems. Well, maybe not so major, and maybe not so problematic, either.
In the elevator on the way back up, Fartstard gave me the once-over.
“So, you and Damo?”
“So?” I raised my eyebrows.
“So?”
There was no way I was going to pour out my heart to Fartstard. I had no idea what was going on, myself. All I knew was that it’d been good. Beyond good. Beyond amazing. Beyond anything I’d even dreamed was possible. But I had no idea what Damo was thinking. Maybe he’d just wanted a one-night stand. He didn’t seem the type, and he definitely didn’t seem the type to do it with someone from the tour, but who knew with men? Sometimes, the morning after, they could be like completely different people.
When we got upstairs, I realized I couldn’t get back into Damo’s room, not without knocking on the door and waking him up. Shit, I hadn’t thought of that in my rush to leave.
I went back to my room and took a shower before heading back to bed. When I woke up, I’d go talk to Damo, no matter how awkward it was.
WHEN I WOKE UP, POLLY was gone. What the hell? She’d snuck out in the night. Obviously, she’d had second thoughts.
I ran my hand through my hair. If she wanted to be like that, it was probably for the best. We weren’t compatible; that much was facts. Even so, I reached out and grabbed the pillow she’d slept on and hugged it to me, her scent still strong on it.
I’d told her we should go slow. That’d nearly killed me, but I didn’t want to rush her. I didn’t want to rush myself, either. I needed to think this whole situation through. If we hadn’t been touring together, it would have been fine, but we’d be forced into close proximity over the next few months. If this thing didn’t work out, my life would be hell, and I wasn’t cut out for stress and tension. Maybe I should’ve explained that I didn’t want to go that slow. Hell, I had no idea what I wanted.
I couldn’t get back to sleep.
Screw it. I showered and dressed, then decided to head out to that cafe I’d been to with Fartstard. I needed coffee, not the shit over-brewed stuff you got at the hotel, but decent coffee. Some bacon would be mighty fine too, since I’d only had that crappy sandwich last night.
As I left my room, I ran into Elijah.
“Morning,” he said with a knowing smile.
What was that smile about?
“I’m going to get breakfast from that cafe down the street,” I told him.
“I’d be into that. I’m getting a little bored with the same thing that’s on offer here every day.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked him.
He never ceased to amaze me with his scanty sleep schedule. His lack of hangovers despite his heavy drinking was almost insulting, too. And to be honest, for a dude who’d been out partying all night, he looked pretty good.
“Plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead,” he said. “Actually, my plan was to hit the breakfast buffet before it finishes, then come back and have a nap.”
We left the hotel and walked to the cafe. It surprised me that the streets were buzzing with so many people. It felt like early morning to me, even though it must’ve been about lunchtime.
“So, what did you do last night?” he asked.
“I got the lyrics written for the new song. I’m pretty happy with it, too. I’ll play it for you during sound check tomorrow.”
“Is that all?” he said.
God, he knew. He wouldn’t be smirking like that if he didn’t know. I’d hoped to keep this Polly thing—if there even was a Polly thing—quiet for a while. Hell, I almost blushed. Why should I even care? What I did in my own time was my business, and that was business I didn’t want to discuss with Elijah. Despite his knowing gaze, he couldn’t know what had happened last night.
“Should there be something else?” I asked.
“Dude, we all saw Polly leave your room last night. Well, this morning.”
Fuuuuuck.
“She lost her key, and the desk clerk wouldn’t give her a replacement. I let her crash in my room.”
“Yeah, she said. She wanted Fartstard to sort it for her.”
“Is that all?”
Elijah could stop smirking. He seemed awfully amused. I pretended to be interested in something in a shop window to avoid his gaze.
“What else would there be?” I asked.
“She didn’t look like she’d just crashed. She had the look of a woman who’d been kissed. A lot. Trust me, I can pick that look. Bruised lips, smeared lipstick. It doesn’t take a genius in deductive reasoning.”
I raised my eyebrows. If I told Elijah even a word, this would be all over the tour. Polly and I would be lumped together as a couple before we even got a chance to work out our feelings. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be forced into a corner.
The cafe wasn’t too busy when we walked in. We got a table near the counter.
“How was the party last night?” I asked Elijah after we were seated.
He sighed. “Going out with a bunch of guys is the worst. Especially musos. You think it’s going to be all strippers and hook-ups. You know what the reality ends up being? A bunch of musos sitting around talking about their music. I’d have done better on my own.”
“It’d do you good to have a night off,” I said.
The waitress came over to take our order. She fluttered her eyelashes at Elijah.
“You’re the Freaks, right? I went to your show the other night.”
She wrote something on her pad, then slipped it to Elijah. Her phone number, no doubt. I had to give it to the guy: he never even had to work at it. I hated that flirty shit, but he ate it up.
Then I remembered what Polly had said about how she hung out with her fans. I could make a little bit of an effort instead of having this constant barrier between me and them.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I asked her.
“Sure. It was great.”
I tried to think of something to say to keep the conversation going, but there was nothing. What else did people say?
“What are the specials today?”
I guessed that couldn’t really be classed as making conversation, not when she was a waitress. She reeled off a bunch of stuff, but I stuck to the bacon and eggs.
“You trying to cut my grass?” Elijah said when the girl had moved off. “Isn’t Polly enough for you?”
“I’m just being friendly,” I said.
“Since when?”
The grind of coffee beans interrupted our conversation. The smell of those beans made up for the annoying noise. I couldn’t wait for my coffee.
“Do you ever think about fans as real people?” I asked him. “Not just as fans, and not as groupies, but as people you could hang out with?”
“Mostly as groupies. I mean, I don’t meet any other kinds of fans. I’m sure there are plenty of regular people who enjoy the show, then go home to their husband and kids, or their boyfriend or whatever. But you never meet them because they’re too busy with their real lives. We’re just a temporary break.”
I picked up the salt shaker and turned it in my hand. “Polly makes friends with people. She goes out drinking with them.”
Elijah grabbed the shaker from me.
“You are never going to be that person, Damo, and you know it. If you have to make an effort to do that kind of thing, then it’s not natural. You’re an ivory tower kind of guy. You hate people. You hate making conversation. You like being locked up with your own thoughts and your own... whatever it is you do. You’re a guitar person, not a people person.”
“Still, it might be good for me. I’d connect more with the audience.”
Elijah laughed. “Try it. Who knows?”
The grin on this face annoyed me.
“Stop it. Stop that grin,” I said. “What’s that for, anyway?”
“It didn’t take long. Polly says this. Polly says that.” He took a sip of water.
“Shut your mouth. It’s not like that. I’ve always been open to new ideas.”
Elijah spat the water across the table.
“What?” I asked. His reaction was stupidly over the top.
“Open! Open? You are the most closed-off guy I’ve ever met in my life.”
Before I could put him right, the waitress came back. Elijah sprawled back in his chair, watching her. He picked up the slip of paper and then looked at her.
“Say, Nina, what time do you get off work? I need someone to show me this beautiful city of yours.”
She beamed back at him. “I finish up in an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said.
Elijah could stand being a bit less open.
Idiot. No one was more open than me. It wasn’t like Polly had any effect on me at all. Elijah just liked being a prick, that was all.
I KNOCKED ON DAMO’S door. No answer. Had he gone out, or was he ignoring me? It was hard to know with him.
I went back to my room. Maybe I should write a note and slip it under his door, but what would I say? If he wanted to talk, he knew where I was.
A day off. I hadn’t planned to do anything. Sleeping seemed better than anything else, so I flopped back on the bed. Maybe I could clean up my room a little, though. I started gathering up all the clothes off the floor. It was stupid to leave them there. I had to walk all over them to get to the bathroom, and they got even filthier. It wasn’t like there was anywhere to easily wash them around here, either.
I folded the t-shirts into a neatish pile, then stacked them in the wardrobe. I had a bunch of dresses, mostly for onstage wear. I hung them up. Even if it was only for a few more days, at least they looked neat.
I put my boots in the bottom of the wardrobe and all my dirty underwear into a laundry bag. That bag was fuller than I liked. If I got stuff washed at the hotel, it’d be like a hundred bucks for one dress. Damn it. Maybe I needed to find a laundromat, but I couldn’t check Google Maps because my phone was in my jacket pocket in Damo’s room. So was my wallet. I hoped that guy got back soon.
I went to check again, and as I opened my door, he was getting out of the elevator.
“Polly?”
My pulse raced and I wanted to run to him, but I held back. If he pushed me away or made polite excuses, I’d die inside. I hated how much that mattered to me. It’d only been one night.
“Hey, I need to get my coat from your room.”
He looked like he wanted to say something but then thought better of it.
“So, everyone saw you leaving my room,” he said.
He ran his hand through his hair. I didn’t think he liked that idea.
“Sorry. I wanted to get the key thing sorted out, and I didn’t think...”
Was he shitty about that? I guessed he didn’t want people knowing about me, but I hadn’t been able to help it. I couldn’t stay locked out of my room forever.
“Yeah, you needed your key.” He smiled.
I grabbed my jacket, then checked my pockets. Phone and wallet still there. I didn’t want to look like I was lingering, not if I wasn’t welcome, but I didn’t want to rush off, either.
Damo busied himself with tidying the room, although it didn’t really need it. He didn’t look at me.
“I guess I should leave you to it,” I said finally. I couldn’t just linger forever.
He turned but still didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you want to go out and do stuff?” he said. “Sightseeing or something like that?”
The hesitancy in his voice was totally out of character. Maybe he cared, just a little bit.
“Actually, this might sound stupid, but I really need to find a laundry.”
God, had I just blurted that out? I sounded lame as fuck. Who in the world suggests doing laundry when a famous rock star asks them out for the day? Yep. Me.
He grinned. “Romantic.”
“I can leave it. Sightseeing also sounds good.”
His grin broadened, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
“No. Laundry it is. I have some stuff that needs washing too.” He picked up his phone. “There’s a place nearby.”
I grabbed my stuff, and we walked the few blocks. It was only when I was loading the machine that I realized this was insanely intimate. My underwear was in that machine, mingling with his. Sex was one thing, but mixing our underwear together—that was such a couple thing.
I perched myself on the worn table and picked up a magazine. Then I realized it was all in German. I couldn’t understand a word. I flicked through, looking at the pictures.
Damo got two drinks out of the vending machine and handed me one.
“This is the rock dream, right?” he said. “Did you ever imagine that, when you started a band, you’d end up in a coin laundry in Berlin drinking some mystery drink from a machine?”
I didn’t want to say it, but I’d never imagined I’d end up in a laundry with someone like him. I’d never imagined kissing someone like him or hooking up, either. And I sure as hell had never imagined chatting with him like this the next morning.
“Hey, it could be worse. I could be in a laundry alone, having never left my home town,” I said.
“That’s true.” He raised his can to me.
“Even rock stars need clean underwear, I guess. Although I couldn’t imagine David Bowie in a coin laundry. Or Elvis.”
I laughed. “You’d shit yourself, right? Walking into a laundry and Elvis was standing there, waiting for his clothes to dry.”
“I guess he had people to do it for him.”
“That’s okay for him. And for you. You could send Fartstard out to do your laundry. I’m not trusting that guy with my dirty panties, though.” I shuddered at the thought.
“Good point. Actually, I don’t think I’d trust him with my dirty underwear, either. He’s a bit of a freak.”
We both laughed. It was so easy, being with him like this.
I gave him the side-eye. “I had a good time last night,” I said, my stomach lurching.
I hated admitting that kind of thing. I didn’t like showing my hand.
“Me too,” he said.
Thank goodness. I’d have been embarrassed as hell if he hadn’t.
I brushed my hair back from my face. This laundromat was steamy as hell. Not in a good, sexy way, but in a frizzy hair kind of way.
“Miles will be unbearable, though,” I said. I didn’t want to drag that whole mess up, but I wanted to warn Damo. “He wasn’t happy when he saw me this morning.”
“Well, it’s none of his business.”
“Exactly, but he doesn’t see it like that. I broke up with him a few weeks before the tour started, and he hasn’t really handled it well.”
“Hence, the shitty onstage antics?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how to handle it. I can’t make my entire life miserable just for the sake of peace in the band, but I can’t deal with the way he is, either.”
Damo grimaced. I’d said too much. He didn’t want to know our issues. He’d made that clear.
“It must be tough. I’d kick him out of the band.”
“But he’s the front man. We can’t just kick him out.”
That was the option I’d pick, but it seemed impossible. I’d played the whole situation out in my head so many times, and there was no solution. It seemed like every day this tour went on, the more impossible he became.
“That might be true, but you’re the one people want to see. You have the charisma and the talent.”
I couldn’t look at him. Had Damo actually said that? Was he just being nice? He didn’t seem like he’d say things just to be nice, but then guys would say anything for sex. But, hell, he’d gotten the sex without being nice to me. Did that mean he wanted more sex? Because I was totally up for that.
Still, was I the charismatic one? I had a lot of fans, I knew that, but I figured it was just being a chick in a band. I wasn’t really anything special. Anyway, charisma and talent couldn’t replace a guitarist. I could do the singing. I could even play guitar. I knew the songs on guitar as well as Miles did, but we’d still be one member short.
“It seems impossible, though. In mid-tour. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up,” I said.
Then the machine beeped. I jumped up to put the stuff in the dryer before Damo could get a look at my granny undies. I needed to maintain my sexy image.
WE LEFT THE LAUNDRY and went back to the hotel.
“Want to grab some lunch after we drop this off?”
“More like dinner,” she said, checking her watch. “Sure. I’m starving now.”
The two of us headed out, looking for somewhere close by to eat.
“Ah, it’s nice having a day off,” Polly said. “I love playing, but it’s a hectic schedule.”
“True.”
I wanted to grab her hand as we walked, but I wasn’t sure. Holding hands was such a couple thing to do, and maybe she’d hate it. She didn’t look like a holding hands type of person, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. But then she dangled her hand near mine, almost as though she was doing it on purpose, so I could grab hold of it if I wanted to.
Was I regressing into a schoolboy? I could make women faint with my guitar playing, but the thought of reaching for her hand made me come out in a cold sweat. That was ridiculous.
As I reached for it, she scratched her nose. Damn. I’d missed the chance. Why was holding hands so much harder than kissing her or any of those other things I’d done? It seemed like a step toward something. I didn’t want to take that step alone, but I did want to take it.
“How about this place?” she said, pointing out a cafe across the street.
It seemed more a coffee and cake kind of place, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to sit down just yet. Walking beside her seemed so nice.
“I was thinking something a bit more substantial.”
We kept walking. A soft breeze blew down the street, and the sun had come out. It’d been cold the whole time we’d been here, so the warmth made everything seem better.
We stopped to look at another place.
“Too touristy,” she said.
“Yeah, totally.”
“That place down there looks good.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street, and the softness of her hand in mine sent ripples through my body. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d walked hand-in-hand with a girl. Not for a long, long time. Maybe Elijah was right—I spent too much time with my guitars. Guitars never squeezed my hand lightly like Polly was doing.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s a possibility,” I said. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d rather keep walking with her like this than eat.
“Yeah, we can’t be too hasty,” she said. “No point going for the first option.”
She brought her mouth so close to my ear when she said that, her breath tickled through my hair.
We kept wandering through the streets. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to me. These feelings were so fresh, but she seemed as comfortable as I did.
Eventually, we had to stop to eat. As we waited for our food, Polly got out her phone.
“What the hell?”
“What is it?” I asked.
She held her phone up to show me. A photo of the two of us walking together. It’d been posted about an hour ago.
“Bastards. What sort of person does that?”
“It happens.” I shrugged it off, trying to ignore the irritation I felt. Couldn’t I just once do something without it hitting social media?
“Not to me. I’ve never once in my life had something like this happen. Look at the caption. ‘Are Polly and Damo a couple?’ Damn them. Stop speculating on our love life.”
Even though the photo annoyed me, I couldn’t help but grin at her saying “our love life.” That was just too cute, the word “our” being used with “love life.”
“Ignore it. People will forget about it pretty soon. Without any official confirmation, there’s not much to go on. Hell, you can’t even tell we’re holding hands. It’s a blurry photo. We’re just two people on tour out shopping.”
As far as gossip photos went, it was pretty weak.
She huffed. “I guess, but I feel betrayed. People love me. They don’t gossip about me. I mean, when I broke up with Miles, that was a bit too public for my liking, but I expected talk.”
I sat back, looking at her. She’d struck me as someone who didn’t care what anyone said or thought about her, living her life out in the open, but this photo had really thrown her. I didn’t like my life being in the public eye, but I wasn’t shocked like she was. I guessed I’d accepted it as a necessary evil.
“Does this happen to you all the time?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. It used to happen. Once.
“Well, not like this,” I said. I don’t... err... I haven’t dated in a long time.”
“Really? But you aren’t exactly a monk.”
She put her head to the side, studying me. I hoped I hadn’t put her off.
“It’s just been a while. I’ve been busy.”
She grinned at me, really grinned.
“What?” I asked. “It’s true. I don’t have time in my life for that kind of thing. It’s not that I don’t want to date, it’s just finding the time.”
As I watched Polly’s face, I knew I’d find time for her, that time had been invented so it could be spent with her.
“That’s probably the most sensible way to look at things, but sometimes life’s not about being sensible.”
As she spoke, she tapped something into her phone.
“You’re not replying to that, are you?”
She nodded. “I want to clear things up.”
Clear it up how? I really needed to know how she’d reply, but more than that, I had to stop her actually replying.
“You can’t!”
“Why not? I want to tell them to give us some privacy.”
I tried to snatch the phone from her, but she held it away from me.
“You can’t, because no matter what you say, it’ll be misinterpreted. If you say that you want privacy, people will think we’re really dating. If you deny it, they’ll think you’re lying. In a situation like this, the only thing to do is ignore it. Pretend you never saw the message at all.”
She looked up at me. “Okay, I’ll delete it. But I was going to say you were the hottest bit of ass I’ve ever met.”
Oh, that grin was so cheeky.
“No way. You can’t say that.” Well, she couldn’t say it in public, anyway. Saying it to me in private was totally fine.
“Don’t worry. I’m not actually saying that. I’m following your advice and not doing anything. Although it’s hard for me not to say something when it’s in my head.”
What would she say if she was asked about our relationship, anyway? But then, what would I say? Were we dating? I really wanted to answer yes to that, no matter the consequences.
WHEN WE GOT BACK TO the hotel, things got awkward again. Did he want me to go to his room or not? I understood taking things slowly, but how slowly? And I could hardly invite him to my room, since we’d practically be sitting on top of each other. Although that might not be a bad thing.
“Want to watch a movie or something?” he asked when we were in the lobby.
“That ‘or something’ sounds good,” I replied.
I wondered if that was pushing too hard, but he gave me a sly grin. That just made the buzzing inside me increase.
After we got into the elevator, I grabbed his hand again. With his hand in mine, I felt safe. We had a special connection that nothing—not stupid fans with their social media photos, or anyone else—could penetrate.
But then the doors opened again and Elijah and Crow jumped in. Damn it. I should’ve made sure to press that “close” button.
“Hey, you have a good day?” Elijah said. “I saw the photo. Holding hands, how cute.”
“Enough,” Damo said, but he let go of my hand.
A cold chill went through me.
“I mean it,” Elijah said. “You two make a cute couple.”
Damo and I both glared at him, but he kept that loppy grin on his face. Crow wasn’t much better. The two of them nudged each other, and their mouths twitched like they’d laugh about this later.
“It’s not always ‘just about the music’,” Crow said to Damo in a mock-serious voice.
Jerks. They were like a pair of schoolboys. I glared back.
“So, I heard the two of you struck out last night?” I said.
“Happens to the best of us,” Elijah said, scratching his head. “But don’t worry, the mojo’s still there. I spent the day with a cute waitress.”
I looked at Crow. He kept his private life very quiet. The guys stirred Damo up about his personal life but, somehow, Crow escaped that. Maybe because he had that damaged look in his eyes. It made you want to keep things on the surface, not delve too deeply into his life or open doors you didn’t want opened. There was a darkness in him. I guessed that was how he’d gotten his nickname.
We got out of the elevator, and I followed Damo to his room. The closeness between us seemed to have seeped away. I wasn’t sure how to get it back, and, honestly, if he was so easily swayed by those two guys, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I hated playing games. We were grown-ups, here.
“Any particular movie you want to watch?” Damo asked.
He got a bottle of wine out of the fridge.
“You sure you want to open that?” I asked, remembering what he’d said about mini-bar prices.
“Sure, why not? Live on the edge and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
That lightened the mood a little, but if we were going to be together, the first thing was for the bands to know about it. Officially. Once they did, it wouldn’t be a joking matter but rather accepted fact.
I laughed. “You say that now, but when you get that mini-bar bill, you’ll regret it.”
“Too late. I’ve opened it now. Hell, let’s go totally crazy and eat the peanuts too.”
He handed me the glass of wine and sat down beside me.
“Decided on a movie?” he asked.
“Actually, I think we should talk.”
I didn’t actually want to talk, but it seemed we needed to. It seemed a ridiculous thing after only one night together, but we were on tour. We were together every day. If we didn’t get things straight from the get-go, this would not go well.
Damo scraped his nails along the thigh of his jeans. Any other time, I’d want to get those jeans off so fast that I’d skip the talking part altogether, but I needed some indication of how this was going. A one-night stand—I could deal with that. A budding romance—hell, yeah. But an undefined thing? I wasn’t going there. I didn’t want to be a secret fling or someone he was ashamed of.
“I’m not so good at this talking thing,” he said.
“No one is,” I replied. “It’s tough, putting your feelings out there, but we need some ground rules, I think.”
He turned his body to me, his face losing that “about to face a firing squad” look.
“Ground rules, yes. Ground rules are good.”
I guessed ground rules were a lot more solid than talking about actual feelings. I didn’t know my own feelings well enough to discuss them, anyway.
“Firstly, I think we should tell our bandmates that there’s something going on here. And tell them to back off.”
Even though I was saying that, telling Miles would be hell. And there was no way he’d back off. But telling him myself would beat the hell out of him finding out any other way. He’d already seen me this morning, so it wouldn’t be a total shock to him.
Damo nodded. “Bandmates, but no one outside the bands. No crew or anyone.”
“Well, except Fartstard, since he saw me. And a couple of the other guys. And I bet a few of them have seen the photo online. Wow, this is turning complicated.”
“I want to be with you,” Damo blurted out.
I reeled a little, the shock that he’d say something like that throwing me. A wave of warm flowed through me, starting at my toes and ending at the tips of my hair.
“I want to be with you, too,” I said. “I like spending time with you.”
“The thing that worries me is, what happens on this tour if we break up? That’s where it gets messy. We should keep things light. I mean, sex is okay. And spending time together is fine. But the emotional thing...”
I had no idea how you could separate those things out. Having sex and dating without any emotional attachment seemed impossible to me, but I agreed. Maybe I’d regret that, but I wanted this to work, and if that meant agreeing to something that seemed impossible, I’d go with that.
To be talking of a breakup this soon into things didn’t bode well, though.
Damo smiled and slid along the sofa to close the distance between us.
“Movie?” he asked.
“How about the ‘something else’?”
“That’s also possible.”
He pulled me to him. This would just be sex. All those emotions flooding through me—I could forget them.
The moment he kissed me, though, I knew he was kidding himself. That kiss sang of emotional attachment.
“Are you sure you want to remain unattached?” I asked him.
“I’m not sure of anything right now,” he said.
Then his lips trailed down my neck with light kisses taking away any words I wanted to say. The sensation of his lips against my skin, those light butterfly kisses, drained me of any will to talk.
This was something we’d need to deal with, but not now. Not with his hand moving up my thigh, edging so close to the heat inside me. Not with his body so close, the scent of him filling me with need. Not with his cock so hard.
We had plenty of time for serious issues. Right now, my impulse was to get on my knees and unzip those jeans of his. He’d had way too much control last night—and I’d loved every minute of it—but it was time for me to pay him back.
As I wrapped my mouth around his cock, the sigh he made let me know he wouldn’t argue on that score.
I HAD TO TALK TO MILES before we went onstage the next day, although I’d much prefer to wrestle a crocodile or make friends with a pit of vipers. At least with those options, I had a chance of coming out alive. With Miles, I wasn’t so sure. He wouldn’t take this well. Even though he no longer cared about me, he sure wouldn’t want me dating someone else. He thought of me as his property.
“Got a moment?” I asked him, leaning against the fridge in our dressing room.
“Not really. We’re onstage soon.”
“This is important. Jax, you listen in too.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m listening. I want to know this. It’s about you and Damo, right? Tell us all the details. Don’t skip a thing.”
I looked around for something to throw at him. There was no way I’d give him the kind of details he wanted. Dirty bastard. Also, that didn’t make things any easier with Miles. On the other hand, it made it much easier than tackling this cold.
“Damo and I are seeing each other,” I said. “It’s no big deal. I just wanted you guys to know.”
Miles shrugged. “Whatever. You can date who you like. It’s not like it’s my business.”
That was way too easy.
“Keep it quiet,” I said. “We’re not going public with this right now. Maybe when the tour’s over, we’ll have a bit more space, but for now, it’s not official.”
Jax grinned. “That’s not nearly enough detail.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you’re so curious about Damo, date him yourself.”
“If only I could,” Jax said. The frown on his face proved he wasn’t joking.
“Jax, buddy, I always thought you were straight.”
He glanced up. “What led you to make that assumption?”
Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen him with a woman. But I’d never seen him with a man, either. I knew he dated, but I’d just assumed it was with women. And, yeah, now that he’d mentioned it, I had no reason to think that. Jax and I were friends, but in a bandmates’ way. We drank together after gigs and we hung out when we were playing, but it wasn’t like we visited each other at home or any of that.
“Sorry, Jax,” I said.
“I’ll totally forgive you if you give me the dirt.”
“Damn. I’ll have to stay unforgiven, then.”
We went up to the stage. Almost time for us to go on. The nerves fluttered in my belly. Not as bad as the first night, but not gone altogether, either.
Tonight’s crowd seemed less rowdy. I guessed because it was a weeknight. They didn’t have that weekend buzz. It might take a song or two to warm them up, but I could deal with that. A day’s break had been nice, but that stage was where I belonged.
We walked out to a few cheers. Totally underwhelming. I slung my bass on, ready to rock.
I grinned at Jax, and we started. From the first beat, I knew Miles was going to be difficult. He worked against us the entire time. Jax and I struggled to stay with him. He’d speed up the song, then, when we’d gotten the swing of it, he’d slow down again. As the song progressed, rage welled up inside me. This wasn’t the place for his little tantrum. We sounded like shit. All of us. Him included. Was he really prepared to throw himself under the bus to get back at me?
I moved closer to him and glared, hoping that would settle him. Not likely.
“Stop being a dick,” I hissed at him, hoping the microphone wouldn’t pick that up.
A few punters at the front of the crowd moved to the bar. We were losing them. No wonder, with a sound like this. People going to the bar or the bathroom or anywhere else was the kiss of death for your set, especially at a big show like this. Every time I saw someone move, I wanted to call them back. I wanted to reassure them that I would play better than this, we would play better. But they’d already been lost.
I moved back to my side of stage as we finished up the song.
“We’re Wreckage!” I screamed into the mic. “Stick around and see what we have to offer.”
Even as I said it, I knew what we had to offer was a front man with a personal vendetta and no sense of loyalty.
The next few songs were just as bad. We couldn’t play like this. People would want their money back. To make it worse, I saw Damo just offstage. We might be sleeping together, but I knew that was no free pass if the band didn’t measure up. He’d never put his personal feelings over his music.
“Stop acting like a brat,” I said to Miles. “We’re dying, here.”
Unfortunately, that time it was picked up on the mic. Loud and clear. That comment got more cheers from the crowd than anything else we’d done.
“Stop being a brat!” someone yelled out.
“Brat, brat, brat,” the crowd began to chant.
My stomach sank. That made things worse, not better.
Miles scowled. He hated me, and he focused all that hate into glaring at me. I wasn’t sure what he’d expected to achieve from this. I loathed him. We’d never get back together, but I didn’t think he even wanted that. All he wanted was to cause me a lot of pain and suffering.
We moved into the next song, but that chanting was still ringing out. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. It sounded like Miles wasn’t even in the same place we were. He went on with his own thing, screwing us around.
We finished the song, and the chanting still hadn’t stopped. Maybe people had decided the chanting sounded better than our playing. Maybe they hated Miles, or maybe they just thought it was fun.
Miles cradled the mic in his hand.
“Thanks for that, Polly,” he said, looking at me.
I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. He had something planned.
“Our Polly has gotten a bit uppity lately,” he said. “She’s dating Damo from The Freaks, and it seems our little band is too small for her now. I guess now that she’s had the big time inside her, she’s no longer content.”
I didn’t know if the crowd had gone silent or if the rage screaming inside me was too loud for me to hear them. I froze for a moment, like the center of a storm.
He’d said that. I’d specifically told him not to, but he’d just said it. He’d said it onstage. He’d made everything official. In the most horrible way.
I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t say a word. Instead, I strode across the stage and slammed my fist into his face. With the bass strapped to me, I couldn’t get the power behind it that I’d have liked. Still, something cracked loudly enough for me to hear when I connected. God, that punch had been buried inside me for so long, getting it out made me feel good.
People cheered. But, hell, the photographers.
Then I noticed Damo. Of course he’d seen the whole thing. Disapproval came off him in waves.
Before I could react, Miles threw his guitar and stormed offstage. I think the cheers had hurt him more than the punch.
All the elation drained from my body. We were screwed. Jax had to drag me offstage, and still the cheers didn’t stop.
“YOU’RE OFF THE TOUR!”
Miles was slumped on the sofa, foot on his knee, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. His shaking hand betrayed him. He could put on all the false bravado he liked; nothing would save him now. No one screwed with me.
But... it wasn’t my fault,” Miles said. “Anyway, it’s not like you’re going to throw your girlfriend off the tour.”
Miles was a bigger idiot than I’d given him credit for if he thought that would stop me. If anything, I had to prove that my emotions didn’t rule me. I could and would throw their band off the tour, and there was no way I’d let him use that emotional hold to control me.
“Don’t count on it. I’d throw myself off this tour if I thought it was for the good of my band.”
I hadn’t seen Polly after she’d come offstage. I’d waited for her to come to me to apologize, but she hadn’t come backstage, and soon it was time for us to go on. We’d made it through our set, blocking out that whole debacle even though I knew the crowd wasn’t totally focused. How could they be, after a bombshell like that? Hell, we’d had to go out there facing a rowdy and discontented crowd. It was a tough show, and a lot of people seemed to think it was an anticlimax after the emotional fireworks.
Still, I’d held it all inside while we played. She’d be waiting for me once this was over, sad and apologetic.
As soon as we’d finished playing, I went to their dressing room. Polly wasn’t there, but Miles and Jax were. I’d expected him to leave straight away instead of lingering, but he didn’t have the sense to do that.
Some of the crew were hanging around too. I told the others to leave so I could speak to Miles.
“Pack your bags. I’ll get Fartstard to arrange your flight home. The next available flight. Polly and Jax can hang around a while if they like, at least until we leave Berlin. But you—I don’t want to see your face ever again.”
I hated to do this to Polly, but she hadn’t helped things with that punch. Although I didn’t blame her. I wish I’d been the one to do it. But not onstage. Never onstage.
Miles hadn’t moved from the sofa.
“Why are you still here?” I said to him. “Go. Now.”
He picked at something on the arm of the sofa, not looking up. “You’re breaking the contract. You’ll pay for that.”
“Read the fine print. You broke the contract. I’m not an idiot. There’s a confidentiality clause in there, and not only can I throw you off the tour, I can sue you for every penny you have.”
I wouldn’t sue, but the threat sure made him take action. He jumped up and scurried around, collecting his gear. I left the room.
Jax stood outside.
“Sorry,” I said to him. “You’re the innocent bystander in this, but it can’t be helped.”
“Yep, I put the ‘bi’ in bystander,” he said.
Was that a joke? I didn’t really get it.
“Do you know where Polly is?” I asked him. “I need to speak to her.”
“She went back to the hotel.”
Of course she had. I didn’t blame her. There was no way she’d want to hang around Miles after that.
Polly.
She’d let me down.
She’d known how I felt about things, but she’d gone with the drama instead of smoothing things over. Even if my initial reaction would have been the same, I didn’t strike out. I didn’t punch. I kept my feelings under control. She’d never be like that. I didn’t know if I could handle someone like her in my life.
It’d been fun, but it was over. I was sure she’d understand. I couldn’t, wouldn’t let any feelings I had for her come before my career. I had a lot to prove.
If I could have kept her and Jax on the tour, I would have, but without a front man, they couldn’t play. That was all I knew. I couldn’t magically make a new bandmate appear for her. I just hoped she wouldn’t cry or scream. Another emotional outburst was the last thing I needed right now.
After filling Fartstard in on what he needed to do, I got one of the drivers to take me back to the hotel. That meant sharing the van with Miles.
He sat near the front, stealing sullen glances at me. God, his parents should’ve punished him more as a child. Knocked that sense of entitlement out of him.
As we got near the hotel, he moved seats.
“Just one more chance,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
He had to be kidding. He tried doing some kind of pleading, puppy-dog-eye thing. That made me vomit a bit in my mouth.
“Do you have no understanding of what you just did? My private life is private. It’s not discussed onstage. Ever. You’ve made me a target of gossip columns.”
“I wasn’t targeting you,” he said. As if that made it okay.
“No. You were targeting Polly because of some petty revenge thing. Before you even started talking, you tried to make her look like an idiot. Anyone who puts their personal battles in front of their music when they’re out on that stage is not welcome around me. I only want to work with professionals.”
He started to answer, but we’d arrived at the hotel. I jumped up from my seat.
“Oh, maybe you should put some ice on your nose. It’s starting to swell,” I said as I jumped out of the van.
Now that we’d arrived at the hotel, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to run to Polly, sweep her up in my arms and make sure she was okay, but I’d had time to think things through. I couldn’t go to her. As much as I wanted to, as much as I needed her, I couldn’t let myself show that weakness.
I SHOULDN’T HAVE PUNCHED Miles. I knew that. I’d fucked up, and we’d be thrown off the tour. The only thing for it was to go back to the hotel and start packing. Even if I hadn’t punched Miles, we’d have been kicked off the moment he’d opened his mouth. What the fuck had he been thinking? That he was bulletproof? Fucking idiot.
I threw a pile of t-shirts into the case. They topped over and became unfolded. Yeah, neat Polly hadn’t lasted long.
I took a deep breath. This room was way too hot, even with the air conditioning on. So stuffy. I tried to open the window, but it wasn’t openable. With my suitcase on the bed, the only place to sit was the desk chair. My room was so narrow, though, the chair only pulled out a few inches before it hit the bed. I tried to twist it a little so I could access it.
What a fucking mess. My room was a mess, and so was my life. There was nothing, not one tiny thing I could think of to fix this shit pile. Even if I begged Damo to keep us on the tour, even if he agreed, we couldn’t play without a front man. And there was no way we could get someone to learn our songs that fast. Not to the level where they could play with us.
No matter what, I’d never play with Miles again. He was out.
If that damn suitcase hadn’t been on my bed, I’d hurl myself there and cry.
Banging on my door broke my thoughts.
It had to be Damo.
This was not a discussion I wanted to have, even though I’d expected it, but I opened the door.
“Come in.”
Damo looked around. “Maybe we should go to my room.”
I nodded and followed him down the hallway. As I watched his back, it seemed difficult to believe we’d been wrapped in each other’s arms not so long ago. Now I felt like a teenager who’d been sprung smoking in the bathroom and was being sent to the headmaster’s office. My chest hurt, and I couldn’t unclench my hands. I didn’t want to have this talk. I didn’t want those words out in the air.
I stopped walking and took a deep breath. I had to be calm. I had to be unemotional. Any show of emotion now would drive Damo so far away from me, he’d never speak to me again.
Cold, clinical Polly. That was what I needed to be. I’d disappointed him beyond redemption, but I could at least give him that. I wouldn’t beg, I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t hope that somewhere, deep down, he thought this could be fixed. That Damo wanted me with him more than he wanted a lack of drama and more than he wanted that rigid life he lived.
“Damo, I know what you’re going to say, and you know. Why don’t we just consider this discussion discussed instead of going through the motions? We’re off the tour. It’s all over. I get it. No need to hammer out the point.”
He turned to me, his eyes flinty cold. “If that’s what you want. You and Jax can stick around until the end of the week, then fly home when everyone leaves Berlin. I’ll organize flights for you.”
I shivered. I’d known he’d be cold, but not like that. There was not one hint in him of that warmth and passion we’d shared just hours ago. He had all this worked out. Before he came back to the hotel, he’d figured out a plan of action. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d already lined up a band to replace us.
Because that was what mattered to him. The tour. His career. I’d just been a blip in that plan.
Tears welled up inside me, but they could keep welling until I got back to my room. This had been damn hard on me too. It wasn’t just about him. I’d been betrayed. My band had been ripped apart. And, hell, that bomb Miles had dropped—that was about me too, not just Damo. For just one minute, he could’ve forgotten about everything else and taken me in his arms. Given me a little comfort. He could’ve told me that, even if Wreckage were off the tour, there was still us.
Instead, all I got was a wall of ice. I scanned his face for a sign of regret, one trace that, even though I’d fucked up, he might forgive me, but there was nothing there. It’d been a short fling. Nothing more.
I wouldn’t use that to ask for favors.
We stood in the hallway, facing each other but not really making eye contact. We could’ve been complete strangers.
If he’d yelled at me, if he’d gotten angry or upset, unreasonable, even, I could’ve fought back, but that coldness—I could do nothing in the face of that but retreat. He was too hard and unyielding.
I wouldn’t waste my time trying to make things right. They’d been broken, and they could never be fixed.
Everything—my hopes and dreams for this tour, my feelings for Damo, my whole life—crumpled to dust at my feet in that hallway. I had nothing left. My whole life had been destroyed. The only thing I could hope for now was to walk back to my room with my dignity intact. If he wanted to be cold, I could be just as frozen. The old Polly would’ve wept and asked for forgiveness, but I wouldn’t be that girl any longer.
Without a word, I walked away.
It was over. Everything was over.
SOMEONE KNOCKED ON my door. My heart jumped. Polly? She’d come to apologize. Had to be. There was some way she could make this right, some way that I hadn’t thought of. I couldn’t imagine how, but it’d all work out. It’d broken my heart when she walked away from me. Every part of me screamed to run after her, to wrap my arms around her and promise that, no matter what happened, we’d be together.
And, maybe, if she’d shown a tiny hint of remorse, if she’d apologized, I’d have done that. I’d half-expected tears or pleading, but instead she’d been flat, like she didn’t give a damn about anything. It would’ve been ridiculous for me to say I forgave her when she wasn’t even asking for forgiveness.
But now she’d changed her mind? I flew up and answered the knock.
It was Jax.
My heart sank. I’d been a fool to think that what we’d had mattered to her. It’d been some on-tour fun but now, for her, the tour was over. I meant nothing to her. I had to accept that.
“What’s going on?” I asked Jax.
I didn’t invite him in, but he walked into my room anyway.
“Wow, this is a great room,” he said. “Much better than sharing with Miles.”
He wandered around the room, poking into things. I was sure he wasn’t here to discuss his room. I’d hardly spoken to him during the tour, but he was the one who’d come to speak to me. He obviously had something to say about this situation, and I should hear him out.
“Well, you won’t be sharing from now on. He’s on his way to the airport.”
Jax sat down in the armchair and began to tap on the coffee table. What the hell was it with drummers? Did they have to drum on everything, like, if they stopped for five minutes, people would forget they were drummers?
“What are your plans?” Jax asked.
“I should be asking you that.”
He kept drumming, then looked up. “I mean, what are you doing for an opener?”
Obviously, I hadn’t had time to do much, but I’d gotten the ball rolling. We had to have someone for tomorrow night. I wouldn’t cancel the show. Not if I could help it.
“Fartstard has some feelers out. There are a couple of local bands that can fill in for the Berlin shows.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“And after that?”
I shrugged. “Find another local band. Or get someone to fly out to finish the tour with us.”
“Can you give us another chance? I have an idea for a replacement for Miles. It might just work out.” He flung his hand in the air as though he were hitting the cymbals with an invisible drumstick.
“Is it possible to find someone that fast? Someone who knows your songs well enough?”
He stopped drumming and looked up. “It just so happens, there is the perfect person. Even better than Miles.”
A faint glimmer of hope grew in my heart, but I pushed it down. Even if they found someone, and even if that person worked out, it didn’t mean a thing. Polly hadn’t even thought enough of our relationship to use some self-control. She’d let her emotions overrule her. I couldn’t imagine being with someone like that in the long term.
“If you have that perfect person, why aren’t they in the band already?”
“It’s complicated. I’m just asking for another chance. Not because we deserve it. Well, I do. Those other two, though...” He rolled his eyes. “But think about it. It’ll be easier for you. No changes to the lineup. Perfect for us.”
I got up to get a bottle of water. This seemed like the perfect solution, but maybe too perfect. I had extreme doubts that they could get someone in so quickly to fill in for Miles. If Jax intended dragging in a second-rate front man just to keep them on the tour, he could forget it. I had standards, and those standards were high.
But... Polly on the tour. My emotions me one but my common sense pulled the other way. I had to think with my brain, no matter how much it killed me inside. I had to do the best thing for the tour. For my career, too. I hadn’t worked this hard to have everything ruined because I had an infatuation.
I’d take all those mushy, uncomfortable emotions inside me and smash them to pieces.
Jax stared me, waiting for an answer.
“Okay. I’ll give you a chance on two conditions. First, Polly has to apologize and ask me herself, and, second, I want to hear you guys play with the new person. You have four days, then we leave Berlin. Prove that this new front man is worth my time in an audition. If they’re good enough, you stay on the tour.”
Why the hell had I said that? If Polly was forced to apologize to me, it’d just be a forced apology. It wouldn’t mean a damn thing. And maybe it would be better for her to get off this tour and out of my sight. It was almost like I didn’t want her to leave.
Jax stood up and gave me a salute. “That’s as much as I can ask for.”
He left my room, and I tried not to think about where this would lead. There would be no glimmer of hope. I could never, ever think that.
“NO WAY. I WON’T DO it.”
I was lying belly down on the bed, and I didn’t even move to give Jax room to sit down. He annoyed me. He’d spoken to Damo behind my back and made this whole stupid plan. That didn’t mean I wanted to be part of it. Staying on the tour with that ice-cold Damo would be worse than leaving and having a clean break. I’d made the mistake of not having a clean break with Miles, and that had led to nothing but trouble.
Jax leaned against the desk. I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. It was a pretty flimsy desk, but I didn’t bother telling him. If the desk collapsed and he fell to the floor, it’d serve him right.
“You don’t have to go talk to him. Just apologize and ask him to give us another chance.”
“Apologizing is talking. And I’m not doing it. I don’t want to stay on this tour.”
I didn’t even raise my head from the pillow.
“You are so full of shit, Polly. You want to stay on this tour more than anything. You ache to stay on this tour.”
“Not with Damo. He’s a jerk. There’ll be other tours, Jax. If we were good enough to get on this one, we’ll be good enough for those others. We can go home, audition a new front man, rehearse with them. Be even stronger. I don’t know who you think will take Miles’ place, but they can’t be good enough in four days.”
He clicked his tongue like he had to do that to hold the words back. I knew he had a lot to say. I wasn’t ringing true even to myself. I did want to stay on the tour, but I never wanted to see Damo again. Almost. And I couldn’t believe Jax had any kind of sensible plan for us.
“Fay.”
That was all Jax said, but he got me to sit bolt upright.
“Nope. Never. She can’t. She’s, like, eleven years old. She probably doesn’t even have a passport.”
What the hell was he thinking? Fay? My cousin, Fay?
Jax leaned back. That flimsy desk creaked.
“She’s nineteen. Remember, you went to her birthday party just before the tour? And she knows all our songs. When she was staying with you over the summer, she could sing our stuff as good as Miles. Some of them, even better. And, if she can’t, you can.”
“She’s way too young.”
He sighed. “She could play bass, you play guitar. We could do it. Get her on the next plane. Book a rehearsal space, and we’ll work our guts out for the next few days. It’s not that difficult. We might have to change the set around a bit to accommodate her, but she’s the ideal fill-in.”
My young cousin, Fay, often stayed with me over the summer holidays. She loved hanging around our rehearsal studio, and she was every bit as talented as Jax had said. She’d been learning all our songs on bass, too. She wanted to join our band. Not just wanted to; she’d pleaded with me. If she was a few years older, it might work out, but she was far too young. Nineteen was way too young to be on a European tour.
“I don’t even know if she’d agree.”
“She’ll agree.”
“Aunty Pam mightn’t let her.”
“Aunty Pam couldn’t stop her. You’re making up excuses, and you’re ruining our future. All because you’re too piss-weak to apologize to Damo.”
I glared at him. He looked away, tapping against his denim-clad legs. He’d stay here forever, doing just that, unless I agreed. But I couldn’t go begging to Damo. Maybe if I’d kept things on a professional level, I’d be able to do it, but not now, not after the sex and the other stuff. Stuff that had meant nothing to him.
“You said you’d do anything for this band, anything to get us to the top.” Jax stopped drumming his jeans for a minute.
“I didn’t mean this.”
“Jesus, Polly, you’re going to agree in the end, so let’s stop talking around it and go talk to Damo. The sooner you do it, the sooner we can get Fay on a plane and start rehearsing.”
I threw my pillow at him. “Why’s he even asking me to do this? He wants me to humiliate myself. He could’ve just said yes to you, but instead, he’s being a sadistic bastard.”
“I think he wants to make sure you’re serious, Polly.”
He tossed the pillow back on the bed, and I hugged it to my chest.
“It’s bullshit. Pure bullshit. I have my pride.”
Jax sat down beside me. “Pride is all well and good. I’m all about pride, but pride doesn’t pay the bills, and pride doesn’t get you on the cover of Rolling Stone. In the end, pride is just a consolation prize. Go, talk to him. Then, when we’re outselling The Freaks, you can thumb your nose at him.”
“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who has to grovel to him.”
Jax sighed. I knew he was right, but knowing that and actually getting off this bed and walking down the hallway to Damo’s room were two different things. It wasn’t just a case of saying I was sorry. He’d gone from red-hot in the afternoon to ice cold tonight. I didn’t want special treatment because we’d screwed, but some acknowledgment that he had feelings beyond his career would’ve been nice.
I didn’t want to tell Jax that, though. I didn’t want to look like some pathetic loser, falling for a guy because he’d paid me some attention. Screw Damo. If he could be all business, so could I. I’d go apologize. I’d say the words I needed to say and ignore those feelings.
But this was probably all a waste of time. Damo wanted us to audition for him, of all the insulting ideas, and who even knew if we’d be good enough for him. We’d have the expense and the trouble of flying Fay out here with no guarantee it wouldn’t all be over at the end of the week.
I hated the part of me that wanted those extra four days with Damo. Four days of not talking and maybe not even seeing him, but four days in the same city and the same hotel. I really was a desperate loser.
“Fine, then. Call Fay.”
Jax grinned and clapped his hands. “You call her. She’s your cousin.”
“Hell, Jax, do I have to do everything?”
“Hey, you’re the one who punched Miles.”
“Are you saying this is all my fault?”
“I’m saying you got the fun bit, so you can do some of the shit work. Did it feel good? I bet it did. God, I wish I’d gotten a punch in myself before he left the tour.”
“He’s left already?”
“Yep. Damo told him to pack his bags and get out of here. He’s on the plane right now.”
I guessed that was something. I didn’t have to worry about running into him in the hallway or any of that other stuff.
I peeled myself off the bed. I’d do this. I’d go to Damo’s room.
I got to the door, then turned back. This might be all business but I could fix my hair and makeup first.
THIS TIME WHEN I HEARD the knock, I knew it was Polly. Why the hell was my pulse racing so hard? She meant nothing to me.
I wanted to rush to the door, but I made myself take it slowly. I had to be calm about this. We weren’t a couple, not even an estranged couple. A few days, that was all it’d been, so why did I feel like I now had a huge hole in my life? I had to get over this thing and get over it fast.
She stepped into the room without even looking at me. She looked like she was walking to her own execution. Hell, was it that hard for her to apologize to me? I wasn’t asking that much.
She stood just inside the doorway, her arms folded over her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you onstage.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure if she saw that, though. She stared at the carpet as though those green swirls were the answer to all life’s problems. I wanted her to look up. If she looked at me, if she gave me one sign, I’d tell her it was all okay. Just one tiny sign. But she didn’t look up.
“Jax said you wanted me to ask you for another chance. If we can get my cousin out here to fill in for Miles, I’d really appreciate it if you let us stay on the tour.”
So formal. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. Just this stiff formality. I couldn’t do a damn thing. Everything about her was calling to me, despite her stiffness. Her soft skin, her silky hair, even the way she’d folded her arms.
“If you can do that, I’ll listen to you play. If I think she’s good enough, you can stay on the tour. You can pay for her flight out here. If she works out, we’ll reimburse you. If not, then we’ll pay for you and Jax to fly home.”
I sounded like a cold bastard even to myself, but I wasn’t sure how else I could play this. I’d thought everything was good between us, but that fragile thing had shattered so easily. I couldn’t even meet her halfway. I wasn’t prepared to make a fool of myself just to have her reject me. She was the one who’d screwed things up. She should be making the first step. But she obviously didn’t want to do that.
“That works for me,” she said.
With that, she moved to the door, then she hesitated for a moment. I wanted her to turn, to look at me. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted after that, but there had to be something. She was being all business, and that was what I wanted, surely. All along, I’d wanted her to act more professionally. I’d gotten my wish, and now it hurt like hell.
She inhaled, then turned the doorknob. Without even a goodbye, she left.
After she’d gone, this suite seemed way too big for me. What the hell was I meant to do? I was too worked up to sleep. I couldn’t work. I wanted to race after her and make this right, but if she had no feelings for me, there was nothing to make right.
It made me wish I was Elijah. He’d punch a hole in the wall, or go out and get into a fight. That kind of primal release. It must feel good.
I thought about punching that wall, but instead, I sighed and headed to the sofa. Maybe I could lose myself in some crappy movie. I wasn’t the punching walls type. I wasn’t usually the wallowing type, either, but it seemed that wallowing was all I had left. It seemed a bit piss-weak, but I couldn’t make a poor wall suffer for my pain.
Before I could turn on the TV, Elijah came into my room.
“Crow and I are going for a drink, and you’re going with us. No arguments. Just get your ass out to the van.”
I raised my eyebrows, preparing to argue with him. But then, why? Maybe going out drinking with the boys would be a lot better than sulking in my room. I had a lot of sorrows to drown.
I grabbed my jacket and followed him.
I WAS GOING TO WAIT until morning to call Fay, then I realized that with the time difference, it wasn’t so late there. Better to call her straightaway. The sooner she got here, the sooner we could get this thing started.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “How do you feel about flying to Berlin to take over from Miles as front man?”
I had to hold the phone away from my ear so her screams wouldn’t deafen me. God, she had a set of lungs on her. I was pretty sure I could’ve heard her without the phone.
“That’s a yes, I take it.”
“Yes, yes, a million times yes! Oh, man, this is—words not good. Oh, what do I pack? When do I leave?”
I laughed. Even though I felt as miserable as hell, Fay’s excitement was contagious. If she got to tour with us, it’d be one bright spot in the misery. She’d keep my spirits up and give me a buffer zone. She could really be a lot of fun if you were in the mood.
I told her about the audition thing.
“No worries,” she said. “I’ll knock his jocks off.”
“It’s socks, not jocks.”
“Why would you want to knock socks off someone?” she said, giggling.
“Do you have a passport?” I asked her.
It’d be a huge setback if she didn’t. How long did it take to get a passport? Weeks? Hell.
“Der, yeah. I went to the Bahamas last winter, remember?”
Now that she’d mentioned it, I had a vague memory of her talking about it. A lot of the time, when Fay talked, it ended up a huge blur. She would talk as if she were underwater with a mouthful of marbles. Thinking of that gave me another concern. How would The Freaks guys cope with such a bundle of energy on tour with them? As sweet as Fay was, it could be like having an untrained kitten around.
“Okay, I’ll get you booked on a flight. You need to get here asap. Miles has left the band.”
“Because you punched him?”
“Yeah, partly. Hey, how do you know about that?”
My heart sank. These things got out so fast.
“The Internet.”
“Shiiiiiit. Not already.”
“The peeps love that shit, Polly. You know it. Don’t worry—any publicity is good publicity. Are you really dating Damo? I guess not, or you wouldn’t have punched Miles. Hey, I have to go. I need to pack, and I need to Instagram myself packing. This is an historical moment that needs to be recorded.”
“Cool. I’ll send you through the flight details. And, Fay—”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you could cool the enthusiasm when you’re around the guys here. Not too much, but maybe take the edge off a little.”
I didn’t want to repress Fay’s natural bubbliness, but she could be a bit over the top, especially when she got excited. I didn’t want her annoying anyone or being too perky. Mostly, I didn’t want to give Damo any more reasons to criticize me.
“Sure. Okay, got to go.”
After I’d hung up, I checked flights. Then I called her back.
“There’s a flight, but you’d need to be at the airport in an hour. Can you do that?”
“Shit, Polly, with driving time, I’ll have to leave, like, now. I can do it. I can definitely do it. MOM! Can you drive me to the airport, like, now?”
I rubbed my ear. That yelling.
“Don’t worry about packing too much,” I told you. “We can buy you stuff here, or you can borrow mine. Just make that flight.”
“Yep, sure. Wow, Polly, see you in a few hours.”
With everything organized, I went to Jax’s room.
“She’ll be here in the morning,” I told him. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I’m exhausted just from being on the phone with her. I’d forgotten how on she always is.”
“Yeah, not everyone can be as chill as you.” He laughed. “It’ll be fine. What would you rather? Fay’s energy or Miles’ negativity?”
“Point. Let’s go out and get drunk. I need something after all this shit.”
Jax sat up and grinned. He was always up for a drinking session, even if it meant dealing with my misery.
“You know Fay will be much harder to deal with if you have a hangover.”
“Yeah, don’t care. Tomorrow can look after itself. Anyway, a good case of jet lag might calm her down.”
I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE drowning my sorrows, but it looked like they’d followed me here. We’d just settled into the bar when I saw her. Even though it was one of those dark, womb-like bars, you couldn’t help but notice her. She sat on the other side of the room with Jax, the two of them laughing over something. In the darkness of the room, she glowed like a candle, the vibrancy of her not suppressed but enhanced by the gloom.
She looked way too happy. Every tinkle of her laughter was a punch to my chest. Sure, she could be happy. Nothing that had happened meant one little thing to her. She’d moved on already. But I couldn’t. Since I’d met her, there’d been a seismic shift inside me. I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t know exactly what it was; I just knew that the way the bits of me had always fit together no longer worked.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” I said.
“Nah,” Elijah said. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s a cool place.”
Crow just sat in the corner, sipping his beer. He looked like he had no fucks to give either way.
“I said I wanted to go somewhere else,” I said. “There are hundreds of bars in this city. Why do we need to drink at this one?”
Elijah turned in his seat and followed my gaze.
“Aha, I see your problem. But, really, Damo, if she’s staying on the tour, you have to get used to being around her. You can’t spend the entire European tour avoiding her. That’d be straight-up redonk. Just deal. Hell, if I avoided every chick I’ve ever slept with, I’d be a hermit.”
He had a point. A stupid point, but a point nonetheless. I couldn’t avoid her, but I didn’t want to look like I was stalking her, either. I had my pride. Maybe I should just go chat up some chick at the bar, show her that I’d moved on too. It wasn’t like I couldn’t find someone else, even if the thought of being with anyone else filled me with an infinite misery.
“Don’t look now, but she’s spotted you,” Crow said.
Now I’d be consciously trying not to look. It’d been bad enough before, my gaze being drawn to her no matter what I did. It wasn’t like there was much else to look at in this bar.
“Swap seats with me,” I said to Elijah.
From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see Polly without purposely turning. It’d be much easier for me sitting there.
He sighed but got up.
“We should just invite them to join us,” Elijah said. “It’d be a lot more mature than this seat-swapping.”
“No!” That was the last thing I wanted.
Elijah and Crow swapped glances, both smirking. That just made me angrier.
“I don’t think the two of you are taking this seriously enough. She’s screwed things up. There’s shit all over the Internet about it.”
Elijah patted my arm. Condescendingly.
“It’s okay, Damo. It’ll blow over in a few days. I think this goes much deeper. It’s not the publicity shitting you, it’s because you like her. For fuck’s sake, man, just go over and tell her. No, don’t even tell her. Pull her into your arms and kiss the words into her. You only get one shot at this life, and you’re going to end up a lonely old man curled up with your guitar at night. That’s not what you really want.”
“Just shut up, okay?”
Elijah shut up, but then the three of us sat in silence. He could say shit like that because no woman ever meant a thing to him for longer than it took him to blow.
Techno music played a little too loud in the background, and a hum of German voices surrounded us, all unintelligible to my ears. Did people find all that noise enjoyable?
I ached to turn, but I wouldn’t give in to that temptation. No matter what, I wouldn’t turn around. I wouldn’t acknowledge that she was here.
“Who’s she getting in to replace Miles?” Crow asked. “I hope he’s not another tosser.”
“Dunno. She didn’t say. Her cousin, that’s all I know.”
“Do you think he’ll cut it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I know nothing about the replacement or the band or anything else. All I know is that she has someone flying in.”
I might’ve snapped, but I didn’t want to discuss it.
“They can’t be great, or they’d have replaced that shithead already, especially if there was some talented cousin just sitting around twirling their thumbs. I don’t think—”
I drained my beer and slammed my glass down on the table.
“They’re going to audition. If the replacement is good enough, they stay. Otherwise, they go.”
“Whoa, man. That’s a bit... umm... insulting, really,” Elijah said. You’re making them audition? Surely, if they think the replacement is good enough, that’s all you need to know.”
“Not really. I need to know the new person is a good fit for the tour, too. I’m not taking chances.”
Crow nodded, but Elijah leaned forward.
“Do we get to sit in on the audition too? I mean, we’re on the tour as well. We should have a say.”
What he really meant was, he didn’t trust my judgment. He thought I’d be extra harsh, but I could remain impartial.
“If you want to. It’ll be during sound check, so stick around if you like. I don’t care either way. But the slightest sign of tension, and the whole deal is off. I’ve had enough of this shit.”
Crow stood up and nodded to my empty glass. I shook my head. The few drinks we’d had already hit my system. If I drank much more, I’d do something stupid, like take Elijah’s fool advice.
“Water?” Crow asked.
“Yeah, that’ll be fine.”
“What if you just open up about it?” Elijah said.
“More stupid advice?”
“Not at all. Tell the press you’re a couple. No one’s going to give a fuck after a few days. Why the hell would it even be news? Nowadays, there’s so much shit going on in the world, a man having a stable relationship with a chick, that’s not even newsworthy. It’s not like you’ve been found doing some non-consensual shit. You haven’t been harassing her or any of that shit.”
I sneered at his stupidity.
“Fastest way for this to blow over?”
“Yeah, except I don’t have a stable relationship with her. It was a fling. A stupid fling. I knew better, but I got a little carried away. In a day or two, she’ll be completely out of my system.”
Crow arrived back with the drinks. Elijah took his glass and raised it, looking me in the eye.
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy. ‘It was just a fling, it didn’t mean anything.’ If that’s what it takes to get you through, just keep telling that to yourself.”
DAMO WALKED INTO THE bar. In a city with thousands of bars, why this one? Had he been following me? Suddenly, my beer tasted sour, and it sat heavy in my stomach.
“Why did you pick this bar?” I asked Jax.
“I came here with the guys the other night. It seemed like a chill place.”
Okay, maybe Damo was here for the same reason, but it made me so uncomfortable. I twitched in my seat and tugged at my clothes. I’d wanted to pour out all my misery, not think about how I looked. Having Damo at the same bar put me on edge.
“Let’s leave,” I said.
“Don’t let him chase you out. You have as much right to be here as he does.”
“Yeah, but I can’t relax with him here.” I sighed. “For a moment, there, I thought he really liked me, but it was just stupid. He obviously doesn’t, or he’d have never reacted like that. The guy has a heart of ice.”
My mind kept going over all the things that contradicted that. The way he’d held my hand, the way he’d smiled at me. We’d done laundry together. He’d been so sweet. And that’d all been destroyed in an instant. I’d done something stupid, sure, but he could’ve forgiven me. My heart ached, and so did my hand. I hadn’t held back when I punched Miles.
I sucked down my beer.
I’d destroyed everything. I hated to admit that, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I’d let my temper take control. Damo would never be a man who’d handle that. He’d never want to be with a woman like that. Ever. We’d had a thing, and it’d burned bright, but even without the Miles incident, it’d never have lasted.
I finished my beer and headed to the bar for another round. If Jax wouldn’t leave, I needed more beer to deal with being here. I couldn’t be that person who didn’t act on my feelings, but punching Miles had been a stupid impulse. I needed to get my shit sorted out. Not because of Damo, but because of me.
“It wasn’t such a bad thing to do, was it?” I asked Jax when I sat back down. “I mean, it was bad, but not that bad. Not ‘never speak to you again’ bad.”
Jax shook his head. “It wasn’t a terrible thing to do. I’d have done it myself, a hundred times. But Damo isn’t like other people. He’s so super-private and self-contained. He’d have already been bruised from Miles’ outburst. You just added the icing to the cake.”
“Except cake is usually delicious.”
I stared into my beer. I’d fucked up. I had to face it. My entire life was a mess, and that mess had hurt Damo.
“I should leave the tour,” I said. “It’s the best thing for everyone.”
“You should not leave the tour. That’s ridiculous. Fay is on her way here. She’s probably on the plane now, and we’ve convinced Damo to give us another shot. What you need to do is work your guts out, making sure we’re even better with Fay than we ever were with Miles. If you leave now, you’ll have let him down a second time. You’ll let me down, you’ll let Fay down, and mostly, you’ll let yourself down.”
On the music side of things, Jax was right, but there was a whole other side to it, and that side was my insides. The part of me that hurt the most. I couldn’t see Damo every single day knowing we’d come so close. That’d be hell.
I needed to learn self-control. Not to change myself to suit Damo, but to make sure I didn’t keep fucking up. There were only so many chances in this life.
“I’m going back to the hotel,” I said, standing up.
Drinking was really not going to help this situation. Being in the same bar as Damo sure as hell didn’t help, either. I’d go back to my room and have a good night’s sleep. When Fay arrived, I’d be ready to deal with her energy, at least.
Before I moved though, I looked at Damo without thinking. For a second, his gaze met mine. That moment set my body ablaze. I held my breath, waiting for him to do something, anything. If he made the slightest move toward me, I’d meet him halfway. I’d apologize. I’d do anything, even crawl across the dirty carpet just to get to him. He needed to give me an indication. Surely, there was still a chance. What we’d had didn’t die that easily.
He looked away, and that answered all those unspoken questions.
I walked out of that bar with my head held high. When I got outside, I wiped my eyes. It was just the cold sting of the winter air hitting me, nothing else. Damo could go to hell. From here on in, I’d be all business. We’d be the best damn band in this industry. I’d make sure of it.
FAY ARRIVED THE NEXT day. I hadn’t thought about arrangements until she arrived. We couldn’t both fit in my tiny room, so the smart thing to do would be to swap with Jax. I didn’t want to do that until Damo had left the hotel, though. Even if it meant holing up in my room all day, I’d avoid him. But I couldn’t avoid Fay and had to open my door to her.
“Polly!” she screamed, throwing her arms around me and squeezing the breath out of my body.
I hugged her back. Even if Fay was super high energy, she was a swell kid.
Behind her sat two huge suitcases. I couldn’t even pull her into my room, not with those cases. It was either the cases or us. I just didn’t have the space, and we couldn’t leave them in the hallway.
I tried Jax’s door, but he didn’t answer. All the time, my gaze kept turning to that door at the end of the hallway. I knew Damo would’ve left for the arena, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking.
Jax still didn’t answer.
“Let’s grab a coffee,” I said to Fay. “We can squeeze your luggage in my room until Jax gets back. Have you packed everything you own?”
We crammed her luggage through the door. One suitcase on the bed, the other in the gap between the bed and the desk. Then we wandered down the street. The cafe near the hotel was out of bounds, since I knew that Damo went there often. I didn’t want to risk running into him.
“You look fantastic,” I said to Fay.
She wore a tiny leather skirt and some kickass cowboy boots. She’d win a crowd over on looks alone, but luckily, she had the talent to back it up.
She smiled at me, then frowned as she looked me up and down.
“No offense, Polly, but I’ve seen you look better.”
I wasn’t about to go into the whole Damo thing with her.
“Life on the road,” I said. “You’ll look like this in a week.”
Fay laughed.
As we had coffee, she filled me in on all the news from back home. Small town gossip and all that.
“So, what happened with Miles?” she asked.
“You said you saw what happened online. Well, that’s pretty much it. Damo kicked him off the tour, and we’d have been finished, so that’s why you’re here. Nothing more to say. He was a prize dick from the time we broke up.”
Fay smiled. “Lucky for me. Lucky for you, too, because Miles was a jerk. I never liked him.”
“Anyway, we should get rehearsing. We have to audition for Damo on Friday, and there’s still a chance we won’t cut it.”
“Oh, we’ll cut it. No problems with that. I didn’t come all this way just to fly back home.”
I grabbed my phone. I needed to get our shit together. We needed a rehearsal space, and we needed to get our gear from the arena. When I left after our last show, I hadn’t taken anything with me. Not my bass, nothing. I wasn’t looking forward to picking it up. The chances of running into Damo were too high.
I had a message from Jax.
“Woohoo! Jax is a legend. He’s organized a rehearsal space and got our gear sorted. We just need to turn up.”
At least that helped me avoid Damo. I shouldn’t feel at all bad about that. I didn’t want to see him.
By the time we arrived at the studio, Jax had a loaner drum kit set up. I grabbed my bass and hugged it to me before I handed it over to Fay.
“I borrowed a guitar,” Jax said.
“Not from Damo!”
“Settle. It was one they had here. It’s not great, but it’ll do for rehearsal.”
With that, we got started. The rest of the day, we just settled in with working together. Fay knew our songs, but she hadn’t ever played with us before. I knew the guitar parts, but I wasn’t comfortable with them, either. We ran through our entire set list, then took a break.
“We’re going to have to drop a couple of songs,” I said. “In ‘Lonely Loser’, I don’t think Fay’s going to pick up the bass line fast enough to do it next week. And ‘Flowers’ isn’t going to work. It was written specifically for Miles’ voice. Honestly, I’d rather not do it, anyway. It reeks of Miles.”
Jax nodded. “Yep, better to strip things right back until we get used to playing together. We can get fancy later.”
“I’m happy to go with whatever the two of you think,” Fay said.
Jax and I worked through the set list until we’d gotten something we were both comfortable with. A couple of songs were beyond my playing.
Then we gave the songs another run-through. We only stopped to eat, then kept rehearsing.
“My fingers hurt. I’m surprised they aren’t bleeding,” Fay said.
I checked the time. If we left now, I’d be back in my room before The Freaks got offstage. That worked for me.
“Okay, we’ll call it a day,” I said. “But tomorrow, we do this all over again. Until we’re perfect, we’re spending every minute in here.”
My plans went awry when we couldn’t get an Uber. I paced the outside of the rehearsal studio, checking the time and checking my phone. What the hell was that driver doing? It looked like he was spinning around in circles when I tracked him on the app.
I hugged myself. If we didn’t get back soon, we’d hit the hotel just when Damo got back. That was the last thing I wanted.
I checked my hair and my makeup. I didn’t want to see him, but if I did, I didn’t want to look like shit. Fay was right. I had looked better. I hadn’t showered. My hair had some weird frizz happening, and my skin had gone all blotchy. Even if Damo never spoke to me again, I didn’t want to face him looking this disastrous.
Finally, the car turned up. We jumped in and headed back to the hotel. Maybe Damo would stay back at the arena later tonight. I shouldn’t panic about seeing him. It shouldn’t be that big a deal.
We got to the hotel. Jax had packed up his stuff, so, while Fay moved her suitcases, I gathered my things together and went to the other room.
I had to wait in the hallway. I paced. Damo wouldn’t show. The odds of that were super-low. Fay called me to help with something, and when I went back into the hall, I heard a door close. Damo? He’d come back, and I’d missed him. That was what I’d wanted. I should be happy.
By the time I got my shit together and got into our room, Fay had taken over most of the wardrobe.
“Oi, you can rethink this,” I said.
“Huh?”
I pointed to the tiny space she’d left me.
“Oh. Sorry.”
She reorganized things to give me some room.
“I really overpacked,” she said. “I panicked.”
I lay back on the bed, folding my arms behind my head. As much as I loved Fay, I wished I could’ve kept my own room. It’d been hard enough putting on a happy, smiling face all day. I hadn’t thought about having to do that once we got back to the hotel, too. I couldn’t wallow with Fay around. I couldn’t cry, and I couldn’t let my misery show. She’d ask me a thousand questions and try to comfort me. That defeated the whole purpose of wallowing.
“Hell, I forgot a few things. Can you believe it? I thought I packed everything I owned, but nope. No toothbrush, and there’s not even a hotel one, even though this is the fanciest place I’ve ever stayed. There’s a couple of other things I need, too.”
I was about to tell her to run to the convenience store, then I took a look at her. All her normal energy seemed to have drained from her face, and she looked overwhelmed. Sometimes I forgot how young she was, and she’d been on that long plane ride, followed by hours of rehearsal. I should offer to go with her instead of being so selfish.
“Come on,” I said as I got up and grabbed my jacket.
She trailed behind me as I walked briskly to the store. Really, if Damo was around, walking fast wouldn’t make him less around, but it made me feel better to hurry.
We picked up a few things, including way more snack food than a person could ever need.
“Are you going to eat all that?” Fay said. “It’s not like you to binge.”
“I’m not binging. I’m hungry.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not judging. I’m just checking in.”
“I’m fine. Sugar is good.”
We got back through the lobby without incident, but someone thrust their hand between the elevator doors as they closed. I held my breath as the doors opened. If it was Damo, I needed to arrange my face into a look of non-caring. I didn’t want one trace of longing showing.
Crow stepped in and nodded at us. I should’ve known. Damo would never be stupid enough to do that.
I exhaled.
“Hey, how are things?” I said to him.
He stared at Fay. Way too much.
“This is my cousin, Fay,” I said in a way that said “hands off” only too clearly. Eyes off, too.
“Your cousin is a chick?” he said.
“Looks that way,” I replied. “Now, stop looking.”
Crow was a nice enough guy, and I had nothing against him. But he was way too world-weary to be around my cousin. I’d make sure they didn’t spend too much time alone. I didn’t like the way he looked at her at all. If only Fay wasn’t glancing back at him.
POLLY MIGHT’VE STAYED on the tour, but you’d never have known it. She kept well out of my way, which was what I wanted. I figured Wreckage had found a rehearsal space in the city and had been spending most of their time there. I hadn’t even seen her around the hotel.
Before we left for the arena, Crow came rushing back to the hotel.
“You’ve got five minutes,” I told him.
He nodded and headed upstairs. It wasn’t like he needed any fancy onstage outfits, maybe just a fresh t-shirt.
“Where have you been?” I asked him when he got back to the lobby. “Sightseeing?”
He shrugged. “Watching Wreckage rehearse,” he said.
I turned away. I couldn’t ask him about Polly. I wouldn’t even ask him how they’d sounded. He didn’t seem that keen on talking about it, either. It seemed a strange way for him to spend his time. Crow was a loner, mostly, not the type to hang around another band’s rehearsal space. Maybe he had some reason for it, but I wouldn’t ask, and he wouldn’t tell.
The new opening band were already on when we got to the arena. They were a stalwart of the local music scene. Maybe getting a bit past their use-by date, but still with a local fan base. They’d been more than happy to pull in some extra cash as last-minute fill-ins, and they were solid enough. I wasn’t sure about bringing them on tour, though. Without that local following, they wouldn’t create any buzz.
If Wreckage didn’t pass this audition, we didn’t have many other options.
Even onstage, I kept glancing over to the corner. I knew Polly wouldn’t be there, but I couldn’t keep my gaze away. I wanted her to be there. I wanted to know she cared just a little bit.
I’d been an idiot. I knew that. If I’d done things differently, I wouldn’t be in this screwed-up situation now. She’d been upset by what Miles had done, so maybe, instead of getting angry, I could’ve comforted her a little. Would that have been so hard? I mean, I’d never comforted anyone before, but I was sure I could do it.
We got through the show. One more to do in Berlin, then we’d be moving on. If I was honest with myself, the thought of moving on without Polly ripped me apart. But I’d made my decision, and I’d stick with it. I had to. I wasn’t a person who screwed around with things like that.
Fuck. I’d totally screwed up that bit of the song. I’d fucked the chords up. Sung the wrong vocals. Crow and Elijah exchanged glances, and Matty wouldn’t look at me. I never screwed up, but that had been a royal mess. I kept playing, hoping not too many of the crowd had noticed. My playing felt flat, though. Everything felt flat.
The past few nights, I’d ignored my feelings. I had a show to put on, and people were paying money to see me, so I put on the image and focused all my energy on the shows. Tonight, though, I couldn’t muster that energy. I’d given it all. There was nothing left of me. I’d become a husk.
Where had it gone? The magic? Even going through the motions seemed like more than I could handle.
The others stepped in, filling the gap I’d left on that stage. Elijah toyed with the audience, almost flirting with his bass. Matty took over some of my parts. I still sang, I still played, but all the energy and tension I put into each show had disappeared.
It was one show. Maybe I was coming down with a cold. I’d rest. I’d be better tomorrow. It wasn’t like this was going to happen forever.
As I walked offstage, I grabbed a towel and wiped my face.
“What the hell was going on out there?” Elijah said.
“Huh?”
“That nothingness. That dead heart.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I couldn’t bullshit Elijah. I didn’t even know why I was trying. I sounded like a pathetic kid.
Elijah grabbed me and threw me against the wall, his face almost touching mine.
“Listen, buddy. If that had been me or Crow or Matty, you be going ballistic now. Telling us to get our shit sorted out so it doesn’t affect the band. You need to live by your own words, Damo. This thing is bleeding over into your performance, and you need to sort it out. I don’t want to be the merciless bastard here. I’ll leave that up to you. But you have issues, Damo, and you need to deal with them.”
He let go of me and walked backstage.
I stared at him as he walked off, not sure if I wanted to punch him or not. Not a word he’d said had been wrong.
Fartstard came up as I walked backstage and put his arm around my shoulders.
“Nice show,” he said.
I shook him off. Man hugs from Fartstard weren’t something I wanted to deal with at the best of times.
Screw it. I had to go back to the hotel. I’d go back, and I’d tell Polly she could stay on the tour, no matter what. No audition, no conditions. I’d been a dick. I knew that.
“Organize the van. I’m going straight back to the hotel,” I told Fartstard.
“That might not be the best idea,” he said. “There’s a lot of groupies gathered around.”
I glared at him to let him know I didn’t care.
“Okay, just warning you.”
It’d take more than a pack of groupies to keep me away from Polly. I needed to see her, and I needed to see her tonight. I had to make this right, regardless of what it took.
“READY TO GO,” FARTSTARD said.
As we drove out, a bunch of girls rushed the van. Idiots. Did they think we’d stop? Did they think they were achieving anything? All I cared about was getting to Polly.
But when I got back to the hotel, she wasn’t there. I knocked on her door and got no answer. I paced the hallway and knocked again. After half an hour of pacing and knocking, I went to the reception desk and asked if she was in her room.
“It seems not,” the clerk said.
What could I do? I sat in the lobby, hoping she’d just gone out to get something to eat and would be back soon. But maybe she was at the rehearsal studio. She could be there all night. I had no idea what hours she kept now. All I knew was that I wanted to see her. I wanted that more than anything else in this world. Sure, I could wait until tomorrow. I’d see her for sure then, but tomorrow was so far away, and I wanted her now. I wanted... Hell, I had no idea what I wanted. But I did want her.
I’d barely laughed for the last few years. I never had fun or relaxed. I’d been so wrapped up in my music. The drive for success had blazed inside of me, not letting anything else in. Then she’d knocked that all down. She made me laugh. With her, life might not be easy and it might not be calm, but when she was by my side, it’d been infinitely better.
Something inside me knew I had to tell her that, and I had to tell her before I made her go through a stupid audition.
I waited. I sat on one of the sofas where I could see the doors. She couldn’t get into this hotel without me spotting her.
An hour passed. The desk clerk eyed me as though I was under suspicion, but I sat and waited. I didn’t even get out my phone or pick up a magazine. I watched that door with a fiery intensity, willing her to walk through it.
Every time it opened, I half-jumped up, wanting to rush to her. But it was never her. There was a stack of tourists and businessmen coming in and out, but not one single Polly.
Two hours passed. I was a fool for waiting, but I had no other option.
A couple of girls came over and asked for autographs. They wanted a picture with me. I had nothing else to do, so I agreed. I signed their tickets and let them take a few selfies. Polly hung out with her fans, I remembered. She made friends with them. I couldn’t go that far, but a few photos wouldn’t hurt.
Before three hours had passed, the rest of the guys had returned to the hotel. I could hear them even before I saw them. Damn bands making a commotion. As he walked through the lobby, Elijah shot me a look, but I just shrugged. Elijah kept walking.
I could ask Crow the address of their rehearsal space, but I refused to stoop that low. I had to maintain some pride. Anyway, if I rushed there, I might cross them on the way back. Or they could be somewhere else. Anywhere in this city. Waiting in the lobby was the best option. She had to return sometime.
I was pretty sure the autograph girls had walked through the lobby more times than necessary. They had other people with them, too. I didn’t pay them much attention, and even though they kept glancing in my direction, they didn’t bother me again.
My head got heavy, and, despite my determination to watch that damn door, I must’ve dozed off. One of the staff shook me awake.
“I’m afraid you can’t sleep here,” he said. “You’ll have to go to your room.”
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, not sure where I was at first. The hotel lobby? Yep. Still no Polly, though. Unless she’d slipped by while I was sleeping.
“Sorry, sir, but we need to get you to leave the lobby. We’ve been trying to ensure your privacy, but it’s becoming a bit difficult.”
As the befuddlement left my brain, I followed his gaze. A group of about 20 girls on the other side of the lobby, a rope barrier had been erected around them. The two autograph girls stood in the middle of the group.
When my gaze hit them, a couple of the girls screamed. That was bullshit. I could see why the staff were concerned. Those girls were causing a nuisance for the other guests.
I apologized.
“No problem. It’s just that the group is getting larger, and we were worried they might do something...”
I nodded and stood up. More screams from those girls.
“Damo, marry me!” one of them screamed as I walked to the elevator.
I wondered if, ever in the history of the world, a proposal like that had had any effect. It seemed unlikely.
“Where’s Polly?” one of them shouted.
That was the question. Where was she? Those groupies knew as much as I did.
“Are you dating her? Please don’t date her.”
“She’s a bitch.”
I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems, I had no idea what’d been going on with social media since Miles had dropped his bombshell. It made sense that people thought we were dating. We hadn’t denied it, and Polly hadn’t officially left the tour. I pressed the button for the elevator, thinking the fangirls would soon get bored and leave.
Then I heard screams. Ear-piercing screams, like the world was ending.
“There she is!” someone shrieked.
I turned to see Polly entering the lobby. Then all hell broke loose.
WE HAD TO BE PERFECT before we left the rehearsal space. It was now or never, with the audition in the morning. Preferably not “never”.
“Once more,” I said.
“I’m getting my scarf,” Fay said. “Otherwise, I’ll die of hypothermia before we ever get to play.”
The heating had stopped working in the rehearsal studio, and it felt like an icebox, but I wasn’t leaving until we’d done one last run-through.
The thought of seeing Damo again tomorrow made my belly feel like lead. How would he respond? Would he be angry or cold? I’d put good money on cold. At least his coldness would be fair. He wouldn’t let his emotions sway him. Still, he’d be judging us. Our future was in his hands. If it’d been like that at the start, before we’d ever joined the tour, I’d have been more than happy to audition for him, but this audition was different. It seemed to me that it wasn’t just our music being judged, but me, as a person.
I’d play it cool. I could be as cool and emotionless as he was. I’d been working on it as hard as I’d worked on the music. My heart might be breaking on the inside, but on the outside with Jax and Fay, I’d been all sunshine and smiles. There’d been one morning in the shower when I’d let myself cry, but my tears had washed away with the shower water and no one had seen them, so that didn’t count.
I’d timed leaving and returning to the hotel so we’d have little chance of running into Damo. I tried not to look for him. I tried not to think of him. Every time he entered my mind, I pushed those thoughts away. I had to focus on my playing.
I’d only played guitar on our songs before, in rehearsal or mucking around. Miles hated me doing it. But it hadn’t taken that long to pick up the basics. Trouble was, I wanted to be way, way beyond the basics.
“Okay, let’s be perfect,” I said when Fay came back.
“Did you hear about Damo?” she asked.
My chest tightened. What the hell had happened? My mind raced through every possible scenario, the worst possible things.
She had that look on her face like she was bursting with the news she was holding in, but at her age, she was like that about everything. A broken nail, a bad score in her game.
“Tell me.”
“The show tonight—it was a disaster,” she said, all wide-eyed. “He couldn’t play. He fucked up onstage. Man, even someone like him can bum out.”
“Says who?” I asked her. I hoped she was exaggerating. Damo never fucked up.
She held out her phone and showed me the report. Hell, it was true. It wasn’t a totally bad review, but it did mention Damo not being with it.
Jax exchanged looks with me. I knew what he was thinking. This was my fault. Damo never made mistakes. He was the consummate performer. Always focused, always working it. I’d screwed that.
I put down the guitar. I was still using the loaner one because I’d had no time to go out and buy one. Good thing I hadn’t wasted my money.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I said. I sounded grim even to myself.
“Huh? We were doing another run-through.”
I hated to voice my feelings, but I had to be fair to Jax and Fay. “I’m pulling out of the tour.”
I’d said it. I might be the world’s biggest bitch doing that to them, but I had to. I couldn’t go on pretending I should be here when I’d just caused pain for Damo. Everything I’d done had hurt him. He’d have never screwed up onstage unless he was in a whole world of pain. I’d been the reason the rumors had started. I’d punched Miles, and I’d been the one who’d turned the whole tour into a media circus, and that would never stop while I was around.
I waited for both of them to scream at me—punch me, even. But nothing.
“If that’s the way you feel,” Jax said. “I know I tried to talk you out of quitting before, but you’ve had time to think things through. I don’t agree, but I’ll respect your decision.”
Fay pouted. “I hate your decision, but I’m still in the band, right? I get to play with you guys even if it’s not a European tour?”
I nodded.
“And I got to come to Berlin. It’s been a fun adventure. You do what you need to do, Polly. I haven’t even been around to have a vote in this. So, can we leave soon? This freezing hell, I mean, not Berlin, ‘cause I need get a hot drink.”
I rushed over and hugged them both close to me, my decision to be unemotional be damned. These two were the best. I loved having this band with no egos and no bitchiness.
“God, Polly, your hands are like icicles,” Jax said. “We need to get out of here. And screw it, get a real cab. I’m not waiting outside in the freezing cold for hours for a damn Uber.”
Now that I’d made the decision, all I wanted to do was tell Damo. Even though sending him a text was tempting as hell, I knew I had to do it face-to-face. I couldn’t be pathetic enough to not face him. He’d be asleep by now, though, so it’d have to wait until morning. I’d never sleep tonight, even though my body was drooping with exhaustion. My mind would never stop.
Luckily, the cab came fast. Now that I’d stopped playing, the cold really hit me.
“God, there’s a crowd at the hotel,” Jax said as we pulled up. “Something going on in town that we don’t know about?”
“Nothing I can think of,” I said. “But I’m as out of the loop as you are.”
“I’ve checked all the ‘what’s on’ listings,” Fay said. “Nothing much happening except The Freaks’ tour.”
There’d been a few girls loitering around the hotel while we were there. Not anything to worry about, just a few groupies desperate for a glimpse of the guys. Other than that, the place had been pretty chill.
We got out of the cab and headed into the hotel. Hopefully, we could get through the crowd and up to our rooms without a fuss.
“There she is!” someone screamed as I walked in the door.
Huh? What was happening?
I didn’t have time to process a damn thing before a mob swooped in on me. They pushed me to the floor. I screamed, but my screams just mixed into the cacophony of screaming all around me. These girls were vicious and bloodthirsty, and they were all gunning for me.
Someone pulled my hair. Someone else kicked me.
I called out again. Without meaning to, I called Damo’s name. Not that he’d hear me. He’d be upstairs, asleep in his bed.
Before they stuck again, I got my hands up to protect my face. All I could see around me were legs and feet. Hands reached out for me, striking blows. Pain pounded through my body.
I heard Fay scream. I hoped she was okay. I couldn’t do a damn thing to protect her.
If I could curl into a ball, I’d be safer, but I had no room to move. I couldn’t get to my feet. I couldn’t even fight back. There were a mob, and they wanted my blood.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been on the floor, but I heard some authoritative voices, and the blows stopped. Even though the attack had stopped, I didn’t want to get to my feet. I had no idea where they’d come from.
“Leave Damo alone!” I heard someone yell as they got dragged off.
Stupid girl. That’s what I’d intended to do. She didn’t need to attack me.
Then strong arms closed around me, picked me up off the floor and carried me somewhere. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I knew that scent. Maybe I’d gone into some kind of hallucinative coma, but I could swear it was Damo.
THOSE CRAZED GROUPIES had all been corralled into a corner of the lobby until the police could arrive. I lifted Polly up and carried her over to one of the sofas. I wanted to take her to my room, but first I wanted to be sure she was okay, no bones broken, that kind of thing. If need be, I’d take her to the nearest hospital.
The hotel manager came over to me as I was examining her, and a young girl rushed to her side. I tried to push her away, thinking she was one of the groupies.
“Let me go. I need to know if she’s hurt,” the girl said.
Then Jax came over to join us. “It’s okay. She’s Polly’s cousin.”
I barely took that in. I’d expected Polly’s cousin to be older. And a guy.
“Fine, but we need to clear some space around her.” I glared at the hotel manager. He seemed the most superfluous one here.
“We need to know if you want to press charges,” the hotel manager said. “It could get complicated.”
I hesitated, still more concerned about Polly than anything else. She gave a little groan, and I reached for her hand, then gave it a little squeeze to reassure her.
“We won’t be pressing charges.” Fartstard had popped up beside me. Another superfluous person.
“We won’t?” I glared at him. He couldn’t make a decision like that.
“There’s no way we can make this look good. It’ll be a PR nightmare. It’s easier just to let these girls go. They were a bit high-spirited, but no harm done.”
I looked down at Polly’s bruised face. If they hadn’t been stopped, God knew what they’d have done to her. That wasn’t high spirits, that was criminal spirits. If they got away this time, they’d be just as violent in the future. Also, screw them. I wanted them charged. I wanted someone to lock them up and throw away the key. They’d tried to destroy the most precious thing in my life.
“No harm done? You are fucking kidding me.” My voice rose as a weight pressed against my chest. “They could’ve killed her. Nobody’s getting away with that.”
“Whoa, Damo, steady on,” Fartstard said, putting his hands up.
The urge to punch something became almost overwhelming, and Fartstard was the nearest thing to me. I couldn’t punch those girls, but if he insisted on letting them leave, he’d be my target.
“We need to be calm.”
“Screw calm,” I told him.
He tried to touch me, and I pushed him. He stumbled across the lobby. I’d had enough of being calm. Being cold and rational only gets you so far in this life. Then I walked over to where the girls were standing.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” I demanded, shifting my gaze around them. “Are you senseless, the whole damn lot of you? The police will be here soon, and there’s no way I’m letting any of you off. You will not get away with this.”
They cringed but didn’t say anything, just mumbled. Not one of them even looked repentant.
I needed to get back to Polly.
“You’re too good for her!” one of them yelled out.
I spun around. “Well, I’m sure as hell too good for you. Crazy bitches, attacking someone like that. You call yourselves my fans? Well, don’t bother with that any more. Don’t come to the concerts. Don’t buy our music. Just fuck off, the lot of you. Maybe go spend some time in therapy.”
There was a chatter of voices after that, nothing distinguishable.
Polly groaned, and I rushed to her.
“Get something to clean this blood up,” I said to the manager. “NOW!”
The manager scurried off.
I cradled Polly’s head in my arm. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
She looked so frail and broken, but I knew she was tougher than that. She could survive this.
“I’m fine,” she said. Then she grimaced as she tried to stand up. “My guitar hands are still working.”
She flexed her fingers to prove it. I smiled at her.
“Fuck. I can’t be here. I can’t be with you,” she said, rising to her feet. She took off, unsteady on her feet as she walked away from me across the lobby.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No. I’m leaving. I’m leaving the tour. I need to get away.”
She was walking off, but I couldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not without telling her how I felt.
“WAIT!” I YELLED.
I didn’t want her to leave. Hell, that was the last thing I wanted. I jumped up and chased her.
“Polly, stop. We need to talk.”
She kept walking. I wasn’t even sure she should be on her feet. If I didn’t let her know how I felt now, the moment would pass, and she’d hate me forever.
I grabbed hold of her hand, but she shook me off.
“There’s nothing to talk about. You want me off the tour? Fine. I’m off. Maybe we’re both better off that way.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not like the thing between us meant anything. At least not to you.”
I had no words to explain how I felt, so I swept her into my arms, hugging her as tight as I could. At first, she struggled.
“It’s okay,” I said, smoothing her hair.
“It’s not okay. I’ve ruined everything. I heard about tonight’s show. I can’t be around you if it’s going to hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” I said again.
She relaxed, melding against my body.
“I’m sorry, Damo. I’m sorry I caused a scene onstage. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I just can’t...”
She put her head on my shoulder.
“You don’t need to apologize. I was too harsh. I don’t deal well with people. I’ve distanced myself from the world for so long, I need to learn to be more human. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
She started to say something, but I remembered what Elijah had said: to kiss the words into her.
My lips found hers. I needed her, and I wanted her beside me forever. Those were the words I put into that kiss. I’d need to tell her in real, actual words at some time, but for now, kissing her was saying enough.
She responded the same way, her kiss telling me that she forgave me. That I was the only thing she cared about. The two of us were such opposites, but we could be stronger together than we’d ever be apart. I didn’t want to change or tame the wild side of her. I wanted to embrace it.
When we finally broke apart, her eyes shone.
“Damo, you might be one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met, but I’d rather be annoyed by you than be with anyone else in this world. I don’t know if that’s going to overwhelm you and send you running, but I have to be honest about how I feel. Otherwise, I can’t do this.”
I gave a little laugh. “That’s all I want. You and me together. If you can put up with all my faults, that is.”
“I think I can try,” she said, then pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. Then she broke out in a smile.
That pretty smile. Those liquid eyes. That warm feeling that filled my body when she was about—those were all things I couldn’t live without. That would make a great song, but right now, songs could wait. I needed to kiss her again.
This time, the kiss held no words, just a fuck-ton of unreleased passion.
Her body rubbed against mine. The two of us just fit. That much was true.
I nuzzled against her neck, and she moaned softly. I’d thought I’d never hear that sound again, I realized as I ran my hands down her body. I worshipped this woman. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, to have another human being be so precious to me, but I’d prove it to her every moment of every day. She’d melted the coldness in my heart.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I had her backed up against the wall, and her leg was wrapped around me. I ran my hand up her thigh, and she laughed breathlessly.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “It’s not hurting?”
The last thing I wanted was to make her injuries worse.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sore, but nothing’s broken.”
All the love and forgiveness wrapped up in her smile shot straight to my heart.
The world disappeared. All I knew was the softness of her flesh and the beautiful scent of her arousal. I was inches away from slipping my fingers into that heat, totally unaware of anything but her. Nothing mattered but seeing the look of satisfaction on her face when I made her come.
“What the hell is going on here?”
I spun around.
Elijah and Matt were standing in the hallway behind me. Matt smiled apologetically, then slipped off. Not Elijah. Of course not Elijah.
I’d forgotten we were in the hotel lobby with a whole audience looking on.
“Damo.” Elijah shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Damo. We heard there was a commotion down here, but we were not expecting this. Is this any behavior for a professional musician? In front of a bunch of fans, too.”
He tried to sound stern, to mirror my attitude, but it was Elijah. He couldn’t help his mouth twitching into a smile.
“It’s a behavior,” I said. “Anyway, Polly isn’t a random groupie.” I glared at him to emphasize the difference. “We’re together.”
As I said that, Polly reached out and linked her fingers with mine, squeezing tightly. We both had that thrill of being officially a couple for the first time flooding our bodies. I could almost forgive Elijah for interrupting us just so I could feel that thrill.
“Are you going public?” he asked. “Because I don’t think you can get much more public than this.”
I looked around. Those crazed groupies had watched everything. The hotel staff had seen it, too. This would be all over social media in an instant... and I really didn’t give a damn. All I knew was that I loved Polly, and I wanted the world to know about it.
Before the police came, before the world went mad, I swept her up and carried her to my room. We needed some time alone.
WHEN WE GOT UPSTAIRS, Damo treated me like I was a fragile doll. Sure, it hurt a bit where those bitches had kicked me, but I wasn’t exactly made of fine china. I could handle that shit, and more.
He sat me on his knee and kissed me gently. I wanted more than gentle kisses, though. We’d been apart too long.
I got up and pulled him into the bedroom.
“We can go easy,” he said.
“Sure, we can, but I don’t want to.” I threw him onto the bed, then climbed on top of him.
Straddling him with my knees each side of his hips, I took off my top. The way he sucked in his breath was more than just him being impressed with my body. I looked down. I had a massive bruise on my side.
“That doesn’t look good,” he said. “Maybe we should ease off for tonight. We’ve got the whole tour.”
An incredible smile spread over his face at that.
“Nope. No way. I’m not in pain. Well, maybe a little bit of pain, but that’s nothing compared to how I felt when we were apart. Let’s get this relationship consummated. Well, re-consummated.”
He ran his fingers softly over my ribs, tracing the bruise.
“I can’t believe they did this to you.”
I shrugged, more interested in how hard his cock was growing beneath me than anything else.
“They were nuts. Are you really pressing charges?” I asked him.
I removed his t-shirt while he was talking.
“Hell, yeah. I’m sick of being held for ransom by possible bad PR on social media. People can’t get away with doing what they like. It’ll be a pain in the ass, but screw it. Those bitches are going down. Hey, what’s that grin for?”
“I like it when you get a bit emotional and irrational,” I said. “It’s cute.”
He laughed, then threw me onto my back.
“I’ll show you irrational,” he said.
Fiery Damo was even better than emotional Damo. Especially with his legs between mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting him as close to me as possible.
“That’s nice,” he said, “But it’d be even nicer if we took those panties off.”
He had a good point. Damn panties.
He unwrapped me, then eased my panties down. That still did us no good while he had his jeans on. I flicked the button, then got that zipper undone, making sure I caressed his cock in the process. Man, I loved that cock.
“Hurry up,” he said.
Ha. I had him right where I wanted him.
“Oh, sorry. I’m too injured to move fast,” I said, looking up at him with my best wide-eyed expression. “I’ll have to take this really slow.”
With that, I very slowly removed those jeans, making sure to keep my mouth very close to his crotch, my hot breath on his cock.
“Polly, this isn’t funny,” he said in a strangled voice.
He had a point. Teasing was fun, but sex was even more fun.
He was just as teasing, though, when he moved his fingers inside me. All the tension of the past few days left my body as I became a big mess of wanting him. I bucked against his hand, wanting to come but wanting this pleasure to last forever too.
He smoothed my hair away from my face, kissing my lips, my nose, my forehead as I thundered into one hell of an orgasm. The world turned black, then multicolored, then just a beautiful stillness.
“Fuck,” he said. “We should hurry. I still have that mess downstairs to deal with.”
Damn. I wanted this to go on forever. But it’d only be a temporary break, and then we’d have all night.
I wrapped my legs around him as he entered me, filling me as my pussy tightened around his cock.
He’d only just started when his phone rang. We both paused, looking at each other and knowing we couldn’t stop now. Not this close to ecstasy. Damo shook his head. His fucking turned into a frenzy of pleasure and impatience. I cried out with the pure joy of his cock inside me.
He took me right to the edge again, ramming hard as I dug my fingers into his back. He’d forgotten about me being a fragile doll. I’d forgotten too. All that mattered was us together like this.
Damn, he felt good. Perfect. I couldn’t imagine anything better than this. No matter what happened between us in the future, I knew I’d fight with everything I had to keep us together. We had something magical.
I could barely think as another orgasm rocked my body. I’d thought it couldn’t get any better? My screams pierced the night as the pleasure wracking through my body became more than I could stand.
Just as I reached the peak, Damo shuddered into his own orgasm.
“I love you, Polly,” he whispered.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t count when we’ve just finished fucking,” I told him. “You have to tell me that every day, every moment.”
He nuzzled my neck. “Don’t worry. I will.”
SHE WALKED INTO THE sound check like she owned the place. Leopard-print fake fur coat, fishnet-covered legs, sunglasses covering her eyes, glossed-up lips and that “fuck me” attitude.
No, she didn’t walk. She swaggered.
I stopped the song.
“Polly, I told you. Don’t distract me during sound check.”
She shot me a grin. A very self-satisfied grin. “Tough shit, babe. You’re going to have to learn to deal with it. Now, get your shit done so we can get onstage.”
Hell, yeah, I’d get through this sound check. The faster we finished here, the faster I’d have her back in bed.
I didn’t want to lose my focus on the music, but I could afford to slacken the reins a little. We were playing one show here in Gelsenkirchen before moving on. I couldn’t even pronounce the name of the place, but it was going to be huge, a much bigger arena than the one we’d played in Berlin. All those people didn’t want a second-rate show because I was too busy with my sex life, but I could hardly walk onstage with blue balls, either.
Elijah turned to Crow to shoot him a grin, but Crow didn’t grin back. He wasn’t staring at Polly but just beyond her.
Fay.
She didn’t seem Crow’s type. I’d never really thought about Crow having a type, but that crazy ball of energy was definitely not the type I imagined him being with. I hadn’t spent much time with Fay, but I knew I’d only be able to handle her in small doses. Putting her with Crow was like putting a kitten with a lion.
Polly scowled. She didn’t like the way Crow was looking at her cousin, that’s for sure. But what could she do about it? The heart wants what the heart wants. I’d learned that much.
We finished up, and Wreckage got onstage. Polly had thought about changing their name now that they’d dumped Miles, but Fartstard had talked her out of that on the tour bus coming here. Too much trouble to change all the promo material.
I grinned at her as she got up onstage. Just one glance from her, and I wanted to stop everything and fuck her senseless. I needed to get a handle on myself—at least hold it together long enough to get through their sound check and back to the hotel.
They ran through a couple of songs. At least the sound techs here were so on point that it didn’t take long.
I hadn’t wanted Polly to do that stupid audition. I didn’t need it. I’d been a bastard even suggesting it, but she’d insisted. Even with the bruising and the soreness, she’d played like a demon. The three of them together had something amazing that had been lacking with Miles as front man. Tonight would be their first show, but if Polly had any nerves, she didn’t show it. She was too busy getting me stirred up.
“Back to the hotel,” I said to her.
“Oh, I thought we’d do some sightseeing,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“I checked the tourist guides. There’s nothing to see here. Nothing at all. In fact, the recommended sightseeing spot is our hotel room,” I told her.
“Eww, you two are so gross,” Fay said. “Come on, Jax. We can find some fun in this town and leave the old people to fool around.”
I was more than happy for them to do that, so Polly and I headed back to the hotel. I wanted to lose myself in her.
“We have three hours,” she said. “Then we have to get back. Let’s not waste any time.”
My life might be crazy and full of drama with her around, but I didn’t want to lose a minute of that. Elijah had been right: the fuss in the media had died down almost at once.
I grinned. “We have forever,” I said. “I’m never letting you go.”
She twisted her hand in mine, and everything was just perfect.