Anyone But You

by Jerica MacMillan

  I snort. “You’re not biased or anything, though.”

  “Nope. Not even a little.” We fall silent, and I wait him out. He might be beating around the bush, but I know he’s going to get to the point soon. I hope so, anyway. We have meet and greets scheduled in like ten minutes, so if he doesn’t spit it out, he’ll lose his chance.

  I can’t decide if I’m hoping that happens or not.

  “What’s your plan with her?” he asks at last.

  I look at him finally, one eyebrow quirked. “You practicing your what-are-your-intentions-with-my-daughter speech? Pretty sure V’s got a dad already, though.”

  He snorts, but doesn’t deny it. He also doesn’t backpedal on the question.

  I spread my hands to show that I really have no fucking clue what I’m doing. “You know me, man. I don’t do plans. But I like her. I want to see what happens.”

  Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates my answer. “I do know you, Mason. And I know that Viola’s not like any of the girls you regularly sleep with. She’s a lot more sheltered, for one. Is she okay with the casual, sleep-with-whoever-you-want thing you’ve got going on?”

  I scratch my jaw and contemplate my knees. “Who said I’m sleeping with anyone but her?”

  Silence greets my question, and when I finally glance at Aaron, I shake my head at the shock written on his face. “Look, man. I know she’s not as … free with her affections as Blaire was. I’m not going to do anything that I know will hurt her, okay? Is that the reassurance you were looking for?”

  Aaron stares at me for another minute. “Yeah, actually, it is. Don’t give her a reason to quit, please. I really don’t want to have to find another assistant.”

  “Really, dude?” I snort and shake my head. “Here I thought you were worried about her. Turns out you just don’t want me to make her quit. Dick.”

  He grins and stands, looking down at me with his arms crossed like he’s damn proud of me for getting an A on my spelling quiz. That look twists something inside me. For one thing, it’s a fucking condescending look to be getting from my bandmate. For another … I haven’t gotten that kind of look of approval from anyone in … way too long. My dad stopped approving of me somewhere in middle school. Every once in a while my teachers would be proud of me. But even that stopped not long after I started taking drum lessons. Eventually you’re just expected to learn things, do things, acquire skills, and no one says, “Good job,” anymore.

  “Nah, man,” Aaron says. “I care about her a lot. I just wanted to make sure you do too.” With that, he turns and walks back to where Sam and Maddie sit on another couch. I watch him lean over and kiss Sam before picking Maddie up and tickling her. She squeals and giggles, her legs kicking helplessly.

  What’s that like? That kind of happiness? That feeling of belonging to a family?

  Sure, yeah, Marcus calls Cataclysm a family, and I definitely know I belong here with these guys, but it’s different now that they all have people of their own. Aaron and Danny both have kids. Danny’s actually married. It’s only a matter of time for Aaron and Sam I’m sure. Marcus and Kendra might as well be married, though I think they’re both content with their situation. There’d be quite a few legal considerations in a prenup on both sides that it’s probably easier to just be together and not worry about making it legally binding.

  And while spending time with Viola is amazing, it’s new. And uncertain. We’re not at that place of love and contentment the others have obviously achieved.

  Is that even a possibility? Would she want something like that with someone like me?

  Or did I ruin my chance of whatever’s between us being able to turn into something more when she first started?

  Can I overcome giving her the worst first impression in the world?

  Getting on stage washes all the worries from my mind. Even though I can play these shows on autopilot, I still lose myself in the beat, in the music, in the screaming, singing crowd and the flashing lights.

  When I take off my shirt in the second half, I catch sight of Viola in the wings, her eyes tracing over the ink scrolling over my arms and shoulders. I keep glancing at her, even as I count us in on the next song, keeping the driving beat going throughout, hoping to catch her eye.

  Right when Marcus hits the high point of the song, the lyrics all about how bad he wants his girl, her eyes finally meet mine. Even from the stage, I can see her cheeks flush and her lips part as I hold her gaze, singing along on the chorus, making it clear that right now, I’m singing those words to her.

  Because whatever else I might want or hope for in the future, I learned a long time ago that expectations are a fast track to disaster. My parents had expectations that I couldn’t live up to. Wouldn’t live up to, according to them, like I chose to be a disappointment on purpose. Not that I felt stifled and suffocated trying to be the good preacher’s kid they wanted me to be. That I was tired of being told that wanting to play the drums was somehow a sin. That my very self was actually sinful and worthless. What kind of fucked up message is that to tell a kid anyway? And when the logic stopped holding up for me, and the weight of expectations that I could never meet finally broke me down, I quit. I went my own way and quit trying to make anyone else happy or expecting anyone to make me happy.

  The one exception to that rule was near the end of my relationship with Blaire. I let everyone else’s expectations that she and I would naturally end up together influence me, and I laid that on her as well. That wasn’t fair to either of us, so regardless of what Aaron thinks or wants or hopes, I’m not doing that to Viola.

  We’ll define our own path, and we’ll do it together.

  When the show’s over, I’m tempted to duck out of my fan duties early just because I’m jonesing for another taste of Viola. Now. The memories of last night and this afternoon have been running around and around in my head all evening, and I’m getting impatient.

  But even if I manage to get away, Viola won’t be able to. She’s not just my assistant. She works for all of us. And Marcus is our ringleader, so it’s up to him to determine the end time. There’s usually no way to convince Marcus to knock off early unless someone’s sick.

  Except …

  I make a show of coughing loudly. Viola looks my way, a frown marring her pretty features. Standing, I gesture to the door. “I need some water,” I mouth to her.

  She starts for the door, but I wave her back to what she was doing. “I got it.”

  Still frowning, she watches me leave.

  As soon as I’m out of the room designated for post-show meet and greets, I head for Marcus’s dressing room. If I want Marcus to end this dog and pony show early, I need Kendra’s help.

  She looks up from a tablet in her lap as I simultaneously knock and push open the cracked door. Her eyebrows wing up in surprise. “Mason. Is everything okay?” She glances at the wall clock. “Where’s Marcus? Are you guys done early?”

  I shake my head. “No. But I’m hoping you can help me with that.”

  A suspicious look slides over her face, and she sets her tablet on the couch next to her. “Oh? What do you need help with? And why?”

  Trying to act nonchalant, I give a careless shrug. “I need to blow off some steam. And I’d like to do it sooner than later. Think you can convince Marcus to wrap things up early?”

  Her eyes track down my body and back up, then she leans forward to look past me. “No groupie waiting behind you?”

  I grit my teeth, though I have to admit the question is deserved. “I gave up groupies a few weeks ago.” Everyone fucking noticed when I was screwing groupies nonstop, but no one even pays attention to the fact that they haven’t been around in weeks? What the fuck?

  She brings her attention back to my face. “Are you in some kind of twelve-step program?”

  “Ha fucking ha. I’m not a sex addict. I was working through some issues. Everyone knew what was what. I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  Her face dims, and sh
e hums thoughtfully. “You’ve been pretty brutal to Viola.”

  I huff out a sigh and cross my arms. Because this on top of Aaron’s protective dad routine is not what I needed tonight. What I need is helpful Kendra who can’t wait to screw her horny rock star boyfriend’s brains out to help me get us all out of here ahead of schedule. “Viola and I have come to an understanding.”

  A Cheshire smile stretches her lips. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

  I drop my arms, my eyes narrowing. “What do you think you know?”

  She throws back her head and laughs. Goddammit. This chick’s busting my balls. “Oh, Mason,” she giggles. “You’ve been mooning over her for weeks. I mean, what was that whole thing when she first started? It was like in elementary school when a boy wants a girl’s attention so he pulls her hair. I’m glad you finally worked past that level of attention seeking, because that never works out well.”

  Still smiling, she props her chin on her hand and bats her eyelashes at me. “Has she finally warmed up to you? Is tonight the night you woo her into your bed? Is that why you want me to get Marcus to stop early?”

  I shift, uncomfortable, because while I don’t care if Kendra knows all the dirty details she’s asking for, I’m not sure Viola wants me splashing that information all over the world.

  Kendra’s smile fades, and her mouth drops open as she points an accusing finger at me. “You already wooed her into your bed, didn’t you? How long has this been going on? Does everyone know but me?”

  “Jesus Christ, Kendra. Number one, I didn’t say anything. Number two, I don’t know who knows or thinks they know anything. Number three …” I toss my hands in the air in frustration. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

  That sly smile stretches across her face again, and she taps a finger over her closed lips. “I dunno,” she drawls. “It’s kinda fun seeing you so worked up like this.”

  “Whatever,” I grumble, grabbing a water bottle off the table to verify my excuse to leave. Annoyed, I crack the lid, suck half of the water down, and turn to head back to the fan room. Clearly Kendra’s not going to help. Apparently this is some kind of payback for not being nice to Viola. Even though I could make the argument that she’d be helping Viola too, I’m not going to beg. I’ll just grit my teeth and suffer through the rest of the night until I can whisk Viola back to my room. Tonight, though, I need to let her sleep more. We have time. There’s no reason to keep her up all night again.

  Kendra’s cool fingers slide over my bicep, stopping me before I can leave. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’m just giving you a hard time. How can I help?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Viola

  When Mason slips back into the room where I’m organizing fans into lines and shepherding them around to the guys to get selfies and signed merch, I let out a tiny sigh of relief.

  It’s not like any of the guys to leave like that. And when he said he needed water, I’d been a little bit confused, because I’d made sure the room was stocked with plenty of water bottles before allowing the fans in. That’s one of the biggest parts of my job, after all—making sure the guys have everything they need. After a show they’re all dying of thirst and starving, so I stock the room with plenty of water and easy to munch snacks like trail mix and protein bites. He should’ve had plenty of water near his spot. Maybe he’d swallowed wrong and needed a break? Before I could move closer to find out what was really wrong, he was gone.

  As he settles back into his previous spot, he shoots me a heated look before resuming his press smile and engaging with the fans eagerly waiting for their turn with him.

  Seconds later, Kendra appears in the doorway, bringing another slight frown to my face.

  Kendra usually hangs out in Marcus’s dressing room after a show. Ava and Sam and the kids never stick around for an entire concert because the littles need to get to bed long before the show is over, and keeping tired, grumpy kids entertained backstage is more of a chore than anyone needs.

  I weave my way through the people, intercepting Kendra as she slips around the edge of the room, clearly heading for Marcus. “Hey, Kendra.” I keep my voice light and friendly. “Everything alright? Do you need anything?”

  She gives me a smile like she knows something and thinks I’m in on the secret too. “Nothing much. Just wanted to check on Marcus, see how much longer things are going to be.”

  Glancing down at the tablet that is practically surgically attached to my hands while I’m working, I check the time, my brows still pulled together. “Well, we haven’t been at this for very long. You know it usually takes at least two hours for everyone to work through the room.”

  Kendra gives me that knowing smile again, and hums in agreement. Leaning in close, she pitches her voice low, just for my ears. “True. But you know that with the”—she clears her throat meaningfully—“right motivation, Marcus will move things along and get everyone out early.” She cocks her head, studying me. “Besides, Marcus said you were practically dead on your feet this morning. Wouldn’t an early night be helpful for you too?” Her eyes twinkle merrily, like me being tired is a great joke.

  Wait … does she know …? But how …?

  I shake my head to clear the half-formed questions, refusing to give them voice. Then Marcus’s voice reaches us. “Kendra? Everything alright?”

  She gives him a happy smile and slips past me, moving through the crowd of sweaty fans, smiling and nodding to the ones who notice her. Marcus stands as she approaches, and she steps into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers in a kiss that borders on pornographic, like they don’t have a room full of people watching them.

  A few wolf-whistles and cat-calls punctuate the dull roar of talking voices, and heads swivel in Marcus and Kendra’s direction. But when I glance around, Mason’s eyes are on me, his smile wider than ever. He glances at Marcus and Kendra for a second, gives an approving nod, and then resumes signing the T-shirt in front of him, his lips moving as he speaks to the teenager next to him.

  I glance back at Marcus and Kendra and see them settle back on the couch where he’s holding court. She’s pressed up against his side, his arm around her as Marcus continues chatting with fans and signing whatever’s thrust in front of him. He disengages from Kendra for a few of the selfies, but many of the fans are happy to have her in the pictures too, having followed their romance in the tabloids and on the fan sites, they feel just as connected with her as they do with Marcus. And since she rarely appears at these kinds of things, they think it’s a special treat, not a ploy to get Marcus to end the night early.

  With another look at Mason, who looks up and meets my eyes like he has some kind of sixth sense alerting him to my attention, I sigh and shake my head.

  I’m about ninety percent convinced that he put Kendra up to this. But with exhaustion dragging at me combined with Mason’s potent stares, I can’t say I object too strongly to an early night either.

  A yawn cracks my jaw as I hold my phone to my ear, waiting for Blaire to pick up. I’ve been staying up late with Mason again, but this time I’m having a lot more fun. He’s tried to get Marcus to cut short the post-show meet and greets a few times, but only managed that first time. Marcus caught on the next night, glared at Mason across the room, and shook his head.

  It’s my usual nap time right now, but it’s also one of the few times of day I might actually be able to reach Blaire. And since they’re joining our tour soon, we need to coordinate.

  “Hey!” her cheerful voice cuts through the background noise on her end.

  “Hey,” I return her greeting. “Where are you?”

  “We just got to the airport, and we’re about to board the plane. I’m so excited that we’re touring together for a little while. It’s going to be so much fun! I’ve booked everything for Beckett’s tour and coordinated with Chad for you guys. Don’t worry, though, I double checked to make sure it’s all good on your end too.”

  A grin pull
s at my lips. Blaire doesn’t trust Chad to do his job. She’s encouraged me to double check all the bookings at least a week in advance so that there’s time to fix any snafus ahead of time. So far there hasn’t been anything major to fix, but I do it anyway just so that when she texts me and asks how things are going, I can reassure her that all is well.

  She might’ve given up her job here to be Beckett Stone’s tour manager, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still care about “her guys,” as she still calls the band.

  I don’t know if it’s because I’m still new, or because she started off with them, but I don’t feel quite the same level of possessiveness toward Marcus, Danny, Aaron, and Mason that she does. I like them all, for sure. And I particularly enjoy my time with Mason, especially in the last week since I finally gave in to my attraction to him and have spent every night in his bed since. But …

  Nothing about this feels permanent to me. Whereas Blaire’s plan was to stay with Cataclysm forever, at least going in. She told me on more than one occasion that she couldn’t see herself anywhere else.

  The fact that she’s now working on another tour just goes to show how much things can change, how plans don’t always go the way you intend. Granted, she’s in love with her boss and that certainly doesn’t hurt anything for her, but she fell in love with him after going to work for him. Meaning she was open to something else already.

  Blaire and I chat for a few more minutes about the specifics of merging our two tours for the next several weeks before we hang up. Since Beckett and Cataclysm collaborated on the single they launched on a live performance on SNL, fans have been clamoring for another live performance.

  The fans in the upcoming shows are going to get just that—a double-billed performance with a shortened set for the opening acts and a long night of huge star power with Cataclysm and Beckett Stone performing separate sets, the SNL single, and apparently a few other surprise collaborations that will debut tomorrow night on stage.