Derailed (Terminal Book 2)

by Marie, Lisa

  Tim, one of our many on the management team, turns and presses the speaker button. “Desmond, really now. You’re going to have a fucking tantrum over a song? We need to get this one done. Can we wrap it today please?”

  “Hey, Tim!” I call out while readjusting my posture.

  “Yes, Desmond.” Tim glares at me through the glass, and I flip him off blowing him a kiss. He’s a fuckin’ douche. I see how he stares at Siannon and I don’t fucking like it. He never does it when Landyn is around. I want him to get busted. Tim and I have a mutual hate/loathe relationship, and Lan would just think I am still trying to get the guy fired. I mean yes, I do every fuckin’ chance I get, but he needs to put himself in check and stop being creepy to the women on the team. Landyn leaves Siannon in the booth with Tim and walks across to do his vocals. The minute he goes, Tim is leering at her and I want to grab him by the throat and show him the door. Now I have to finish this right in a couple of takes so Lan can get back to his girl and get her the fuck out of here.

  He had better not pull that shit with Lexi.

  I glance at Micha, who shrugs at me, most likely wondering why steam is coming out of my ears. Shaking my head, I position myself on my stool and begin the countdown to start over. I pick up the tempo just a bit, and it seems to work much better. Now the song doesn’t feel like either a quick fuck or a long winded marathon session. Instead it sounds like making love, and it’s still sexy. Landyn smiles and begins to sing.

  The moment we finish the song Landyn flies out of the booth and high fives Micha before coming to me and pressing his forehead to mine. “We fuckin’ did it, cuz!”

  “We sure as fuck did, now take your lady out of here and go celebrate before the next show.”

  Clapping my shoulder, he kisses the top of my head and rushes to the sound booth to get Siannon. Before we are even aware of it, they both rush out the door, much to the chagrin of Tim. He looks like he ate something that tasted horrible.

  “What’s up, Tim,” Micha calls while unplugging his gear and sliding his guitar into its case. “You look like you need to shit.”

  I burst out laughing and pull out my cell phone to shoot Lexi a text.

  ME: It’s a wrap!

  LEX: Congrats baby!

  ME: When you get here, stay the fuck away from Tim okay?

  LEX: Who the fuck is Tim?

  ME: A douche.

  LEX: Sounds like a cool guy.

  ME: Cool as ice.

  LEX: It’s 7:30 am, do not make me start singing.

  ME: LOL

  ME: What are you wearing right now?

  LEX: A strap-on.

  ME: REALLY???

  LEX: No.

  ME: Well shit. I wanted pics. :(

  LEX: Did you just pouty face me? Desmond Charter, you’re a girl.

  ME: Shut it.

  LEX: LOL

  ME: I don’t love you, Lex.

  LEX: Ditto. See you in a few weeks. Dublin! Can’t wait!

  ME: Pack light, you’ll be naked the whole time anyways.

  LEX: You got it! Talk to you later Des.

  ME: Later.

  Fuck I miss that chick. Tucking the phone into my pocket, I scoop up my coat and step between Micha and Tim, who are in the midst of a serious conversation. “Ready?” I nod at Micha and roll my eyes as Tim drops his hands to his side, making then clap.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here. Too much fucking drama in this room.” He picks up his coat and we walk toward the door. Turning back, he calls out, “Hey Tim, while you’re here why don’t you go jump in the fucking Thames or something,” and flips Tim the finger to really drive the point home. Turning back, I throw my arm round Micha’s shoulder and shake my head.

  “You like him too, huh?”

  “Can’t fucking stand that prick.” He agrees with me and we step out into rainy London. Hailing a taxi, we head back to the hotel for a day of rest. As we climb into the back seat, the rain starts sheeting down and the windows begin to fog. Micha tells the driver where we are going as I stare out the window thinking about Lexi.

  “Micha?”

  “What’s up, Des,” he responds quietly.

  “I think I’ve fallen for that chick Lexi.” I continue looking out the window at the people with their umbrellas, walking casually not worried about getting wet.

  “You fell for her weeks ago. You just didn’t want to admit it yet.”

  I close my eyes and drop my head against the window. “Well… fuck.”

  Micha chuckles beside me and we ride the rest of the way in silence.

  *

  Tonight we played Wembley Stadium without much of a hitch. It was amazing. I remember when we were kids, Landyn and I used to hang out in the basement. Lip syncing with tennis rackets and broomsticks to Billy Idol pretending to play Wembley Stadium. Back then I was the singer and Landyn rocked a mean air guitar. I even had the fucking lip curl down to a science. Every day was a nice day for a white wedding. Look at us now. Our own songs, our own music, our own fans that don’t include the neighborhood girls we attempted to impress with our sexy ways.

  Chuckling, I walk onto the empty stage as the roadies are taking down the lights and moving the rows of seats on the floor before us. It’s hard to believe that just two hours ago there were thousands of people here screaming for Terminal. I rub my chin and look around soaking it all in, storing it in my memory bank. I played fuckin’ Wembley Stadium. Amazing.

  The instruments are being removed as I step on tons of paper confetti all over the black stage. The wires have all been removed and rolled up ready to go. Landyn, Siannon and Micha left a while ago, but I needed to stay to soak it in. Sitting on the edge of the stage, my feet hang and sway as I look from one side to the other in awe.

  Lost with my thoughts, I don’t hear the stage hands calling for me to move until this older man approaches and taps me on the shoulder. “So are you gonna move anytime soon, or can we take our dinner break?”

  I blink a couple of times and shake my head. “Oh yeah, sorry. Just kinda –” I push myself off the stage and walk down the aisle toward the doors pulling my jacket around me and stuffing my hands in my pocket. Tonight I decide to walk back to the hotel, it’s clear and the streets are empty. I just want to stay with my thoughts and not lose this feeling before I have to.

  An hour later I arrive at the hotel doorstep, I was stopped a few times on the way to pose for pictures and sign a couple of autographs from people who were kind enough to let me have my space. Not everyone is satisfied with just an autograph back home, this is a welcome change.

  I stop across the street and gape at the scene outside the hotel. The police are there in full force holding back the crowd with barricades. I can’t go there, I’ll be bombarded with fans and be very lucky to get past the security. Pulling out my phone I call Tim, I really don’t want to call him but I have no option at this point.

  “Hello, Desmond. What the fuck do you want?”

  “I see you missed me too. Look, I’m walking away from the hotel there’s some major fan shit going on out there.”

  “Why did you leave in the first place?” Tim asks, obviously unaware of my decision to stay behind at the venue.

  “Tim, I just need help getting back in. Can you send a car for me?” I keep my shoulders up and my head down in hopes of not being recognized. I walk back about a block from the hotel and sit on a bench watching the scene. Makes me extremely thankful for the kind fans I met en route tonight.

  “Yeah where are you?”

  “Thanks, about a block down on High Street, by the Curragh. There’s a little park there.”

  Tim sighs into the phone. I can tell I have put him out but this is what he signed up for. Evan won’t travel so it’s on him. “Ten minutes.” He hangs up on me and I wait for the car. With every moment that passes the crowd grows and spills closer to me. The noise level is getting crazy, and I am extremely lucky no one has stopped me on their way past.

  Twenty minutes later a car
slows on High Street just across the street. Rolling down the window, the driver calls out in a thick English accent. “Pardon me, sir, are you Mr. D. Bag?”

  D-bag. Are you fucking serious? Standing I nod my head in disbelief and release an exacerbated sigh. “Yes. I am Mr. D. Bag,” and mutter how much of a bastard Tim is under my breath.

  “Come on then. Let’s get you home, right?” He reaches out the window and opens the passenger door for me. Gratefully I climb into the backseat and close the door behind me. “Let me guess, you thought it would be quiet here, aye?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh and drop my head on the seat behind me.

  “Sir, may I suggest when you get to play Wembley and you fill it that you don’t assume the fans don’t know where you are staying. You should check out twitter once in a while. I know that you are with that band, what was it again, Terminal? Your manager told me that you were being a right twat tonight and chose to find your own way.”

  He continues on his lecture as I close my eyes and try to ignore him. I feel like a moron, but he’s right. I should’ve left with the other guys. Moments later we are pulling up to the police barricade and they look inside asking for identification. The screaming fans should be ID enough. They are satisfied with who I am and wave the car through to the door. The concierge is waiting to escort me into the building. Rushing out of the car, I am swept into the lobby and directly to the elevator that takes me to my floor.

  Reaching my hotel room, I open the door and take off my boots. Dropping onto the bed, I cover my eyes and swear that I will never do something so stupid again during this tour. Especially when Lexi gets here, I can’t risk anything happening to her.

  Pulling out my cell again, I dial her number back home. She’s probably still at work but I know she will take my call no matter what.

  “Hi, Des!” Her voice is refreshing. I can hear her thanking a co-worker away from the phone. I can only assume she is leaving the floor and getting someone to cover for her. “Did you do it?”

  “Hi, baby. Yeah, we played Wembley. I still can’t believe it, babe.” My arm covers my closed eyes as my mind goes back to the thousands of fans singing along with us. “Broken”, “Lust and Craving”, and “Sinner”. “It was fucking amazing. I just wish you could’ve been here for it.” I admit. Fuck I miss her something fierce.

  “Not much longer, babe. Three weeks-ish.” I can hear a door click and I know she has closed a door for privacy. “I’m seeing Grandma tomorrow and telling her my plans. I’m introducing her to the girl who is going to help her on Fridays with all the things I help her with, and next week the girl will come with me so everyone can figure our shit out.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I say to her, sitting up and scraping my face with my free hand. I turn to look at the mirror on the bureau and I can see that even though I’m tired as hell, I look happy. Satisfied. I walk closer to the mirror and take a look at my eyes, pulling the lid down, sticking out my tongue and looking in my mouth, my teeth.

  “So I fucked up tonight, Lex. It could have been bad.”

  “What happened, babe?”

  “I walked from Wembley. Took my time coming back to the hotel, soaking it in y’know.” Walking to the window I can still see the hordes of people out there. “This is what I came back to.” Opening the window all you can hear is them singing “Sinner.” I smile and hold my phone out so Lexi can hear them.

  Bringing the phone back to my ear she’s laughing. “Oh, my GOD, DES! That is fuckin amazing! You’re like Michael Jackson!” She laughs even harder.

  “Michael Jackson. Really, Lexi? Jesus.” I laugh. “Couldn’t say like, Bono or Bon Jovi? You had to say Michael Jackson. Hang on I’m gonna say hi to them.”

  I lean way out the window and start waving. The singing slows as the crowd looks up at my window. I pull my phone away from my ear and hold it out. They start screaming and calling my name, finally realizing who I am. I know it’s pointless to try to talk to them as they won’t hear a goddamn word I say anyways. Climbing back in the window I chuckle and Lexi just keeps repeating, “Holy shit, Des. Wow!”

  “It’s pretty fucking amazing, babe. I wish you were here experiencing this with me. I fucking miss you.” I sit at the uncomfortable chair in the corner and turn on the reading lamp on the table beside it. I drop my elbows to my knees and let my head fall with my confession.

  “I miss you too, Des,” she whispers in return. “I miss you a LOT.”

  “I think that I…” I begin but stop before I say something I might regret not saying in person. “I should probably let you get back to work,” I stammer out my cover up and punch my thigh with my right fist. Lexi grows quiet and I wonder if she wanted me to tell her what I almost did.

  “Yeah,” she whispers. “I should go.” I can hear her swallow.

  “Three weeks,” I remind her and trace the grain of the wooden tabletop with my fingernail in an attempt to keep the fact that I miss her like fucking crazy out of my voice.

  “Three weeks.” She sighs. “Dublin, I can’t fucking wait, Des.”

  “Me neither, babe.

  “Go to sleep. Talk to you soon, Des.”

  “Night.”

  I press end and toss my phone on the table with a thunk. Leaning back, I drop both of my hands to my lap and let my head fall backwards to stare at the ceiling, listening to the Sinners outside calling for us to give them some attention. Turning out the lamp I stand and walk back to the window to watch them wait for us. They don’t even know I’m watching.

  Propping my forearm up on the locked window, I lean my forehead against it and close my eyes to keep absorbing this Wembley experience, but also wishing Lexi was here to live it with me.

  Chapter 12

  Paris is fucking crazy but not the typical Terminal Sinner crazy, I mean all about Siannon and Landyn fucking nuts. Everywhere they go, she has fans screaming for her. It’s fucking fantastic that even though Brooke tried to break her, the Sinners accepted our girl. I hope they accept Lexi the same way. Landyn and Siannon are bombarded by screamers, which gives me the opportunity to get into the venue before they do. Phones are out, screams are heard and our songs are being sung with Parisian accents. This is a beautiful thing. Siannon is shell shocked. Her mouth hangs open while we wave to the crowd as we enter the building.

  I walk up behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders as if I was giving her a massage. Leaning into her ear I whisper, “Welcome to the group, hon. They love you almost as much as he does.”

  She turns her head to look at me through the corner of her eye and brings her hand up to hold onto mine, giving it a squeeze she smirks and continues walking through the crowd. I nod at Landyn, who has come back to her after smiling and teasing the crowd a little outside. Looking between myself and his girlfriend he wrinkles his brow at me probably wondering why my hands were on her shoulders. I shake my head no and cross my heart, never would I take something he cared so much about. Besides, I have a saucy ginger joining me in a week. Tim isn’t too happy about it. Siannon will be kept busy by Lexi and he won’t get to leer at her. Fuck him, something has to be done about his creepy ways.

  Reaching my hotel room, I drop on the bed and shoot Lexi a text.

  ME: One week babe. Siannon needs you. I need you

  LEX: It will be here before we know it.

  ME: It’s not gonna be shark week when you’re here is it? That’s one thing I just can’t do.

  LEX: LOL nope. No shark week.

  ME: THANK FUCK!

  LEX: So…you need me huh?

  ME: I didn’t say that.

  LEX: Yes you did.

  I smile at our conversation and decide to scroll back to the pictures she sent me a couple of days ago. I fucking jackhammered my cock to those magnificent tits. She has no clue how she is going to be ravaged when she gets here.

  ME: I do need you. I’m tired of jerking off.

  LEX: Call one of your contacts. Here’s your get out of jail fr
ee card.

  ME: I don’t want to.

  LEX: You don’t want to slide your cock into something wet and warm, instead of your calloused hand?

  ME: Nope.

  LEX: Why not?

  I pause momentarily and look around at my surroundings. I’m in a hotel. In Paris. Texting my girl back home, who is giving me permission to fuck a local and I am turning her down. Who would’ve thought Desmond Charter would be in this kind of predicament. Raising my gaze, I look at myself in the mirror and smile. Taking a deep breath I decide to delve a little deeper into how I feel about her.

  ME: They aren’t you.

  LEX: Ummm. Are you…

  ME: I miss you babe.

  LEX: I miss you too… I’m confused.

  ME: Don’t be confused just…

  LEX: I don’t know what to say to that Des.

  ME: Nothing. You don’t have to say anything. This is text. We can talk next week.

  LEX: I’m shaking.

  ME: So am I.

  I toss my phone to the table beside the bed and close my eyes. Traveling has already taken its toll on me and it’s only been a few weeks. The Dublin break can’t come soon enough. Four days off and I will be spending each one with Lexi, hopefully all in bed. Reaching for my phone again, I dial her number back at home and wait for her to answer.

  “Hey, Des.” Her voice is soft.

  “I just want to call to say goodnight, babe.”

  “Goodnight, Des. One week.”

  “One week, Sexy Lexi.” I realize the simplicity of the name I just called her and start laughing.

  “Holy shit, dude, you ARE tired. I haven’t been called that since ninth grade.” She chuckles into the phone. “Sexy Lexi, thanks for bringing back the trauma of being an overdeveloped girl in a room filled with pimply teenage horn-dogs”

  “I feel like those boys used to, horny as fuck and I just want to see your tits.”

  “Honesty, I love it.” She laughs at me. “Go to sleep, Charter, you have a gig tomorrow and you need all your energy to fight off those sexy French women.”

  “I’m not the singer, babe, I don’t have to fight that many off. Siannon, on the other hand, has a crap ton of shit to deal with here. She’s handling it like a pro. It’s pretty awesome.”