***
Our ninety-minute set flew by, and before I knew it, we were packing up. The owner of the place came over, insisting he buy us a round of drinks.
“What about you, honey?” he asked me. “Can I get you a beer? Or a vodka?”
“A vodka and lime would be great, thanks,” I smiled.
We sat down on the edge of the stage, watching as the crowd began to thin out. A few girls were hanging around, staring at Sax and the rest of the guys. Harry winked at a short, plump brunette, who dissolved into giggles. I rolled my eyes.
“What?” Harry shrugged. “I can’t help it if the ladies want a little Harry action.”
“Harry action?” I chortled, doubling over with laughter. “Anyway, I think they were eyeing up Sax more than they were you,” I teased.
“Bullshit,” scoffed Harry. “Besides, this guy wouldn’t know what to do with a woman anymore. He lost his touch when he lost his fame.” He slapped Saxon on the back.
Sax narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. I smiled at him, my insides fluttering. I was pretty sure he knew how to please a woman. And I was more than willing to test that notion. You know, for research purposes.
A waitress arrived with our drinks. Harry reached for his and gulped it down.
“I think it’s time for Harry to get to work,” he muttered, his gaze zeroing in on the group of girls. Sax shook his head and reached for his soda water. He handed me my drink.
“Thanks,” I said. I took a sip as the other guys wandered over to the pool table, leaving Sax and I alone.
“You did really well. You hit those high notes perfectly.”
“Thanks,” I said, my face heating from his compliment. We sat there awkwardly for a few minutes. I set my drink down and stood up. “I might go back over to the motel, actually. I’m pretty beat.”
He stood up. “I’ll walk you. I’m pretty wrecked too.”
We walked out and crossed the dirt road to the motel, stopping in front of the van. I shivered. There was no way he could sleep in that van tonight. He’d freeze to death.
“You can sleep in my room. There’s a sofa that looks semi-comfortable. That has to be better than sleeping in that. No arguing,” I added, anticipating his response.
“Fine,” he mumbled.
I nodded, a little surprised that he’d agreed so easily.
“I’ll just grab my bag.”
He disappeared into the van and I walked over to the room, unlocking the door. Turning on the light, I went straight over to the heater and switched it on high. Sax walked in carrying his bag over his shoulder. He locked the door and dumped his bag on the sofa.
“Next time I’ll make sure I get the extra room,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Are there extra blankets anywhere?” While he went searching through the cupboards, I ducked into the bathroom and changed into my pajamas. I let my hair down and stared at my reflection in the tiny mirror. Glancing down at my tight black leggings and oversized Beatles tee shirt, I silently thanked God I’d packed something I could sleep in that wasn’t going to totally embarrass me.
His eyes were on me when I came out of the bathroom. My face burned as I picked up my pace and practically ran to the bed. I dove under the covers, wishing the room would hurry up and warm up already.
“No blankets?” I asked Sax.
He shook his head. “It’s cool. I’ll be fine stretched out on this.” He slapped his hand against the arm of the sofa.
I sighed and pushed the blankets off me, arranging the sheet as a barrier against my body.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re building a blanket fort.”
Rolling my eyes, I threw a pillow at him. “Get over here before I change my mind.”
“Micah—”
“Look, I’m not going to be able to sleep with you freezing your ass off, okay? Just get over here.”
He studied me for a moment and then nodded. My heart raced as I watched him swagger over to the bed and slide in next to me.
“Stay on your side. And no funny business,” I grumbled.
He laughed. “I better not wake up to you spooning me,” he retorted, sorting the covers out over his body. He shoved the pillow under his head and closed his eyes, a smile on his face.
“Sleep well, Micah.”
With him lying next to me?
There was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep. I rolled over, trying my hardest to ignore the warmth that was radiating off him. Just as I was dozing off, a thought hit me: there were plenty of fucking blankets in the van.
Why had neither of us remembered that?
Chapter Eleven
Sax
Four days down.
It was Tuesday and we had just arrived at a motel in the heart of Bendook. Things were going well, but after three nights of sleeping in the van, everyone was beginning to get pretty crabby. Especially Micah. I’d forgotten how temperamental chicks could be. Everything became about them.
“Yo.”
I looked up and saw Harry standing in the doorway. I was lying down replying to a few emails, listening to some music, and enjoying the comfort of a real bed.
“Me and the guys are going to grab some food. You want anything?”
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” He turned around, hitting the top of the doorframe with the palms of his hands as he walked through it. I sat up and ran my hand through my hair.
Throwing my laptop back on the bed, I walked out into the living area and picked up my guitar, sitting down and beginning to strum.
Time alone was something I’d missed the last couple of days.
“Knock, knock.”
I looked up and saw Micah leaning against the doorframe. She looked sexy in her fitted jeans and tight red tank with the word ‘rockstar’ splashed across the front in bold, dark letters.
“Hey. Come on in,” I said, lowering my guitar to the floor.
“Don’t stop on my account. I could listen to you sing all day.”
I smiled as she blushed.
“God, I sound like some kind of freaky stalker. I promise I don’t stand outside your window watching you get changed.”
I raised my eyebrows. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She reached over and wacked me. I rubbed my arm and stared at her in disbelief. What had that been for?
“You were thinking dirty thoughts,” she accused. She had me there.
“How would you know? Unless you were thinking them too,” I smirked. She blushed and I laughed. “Sit down.” I gestured to the vacant seat next to me. “You didn’t go out for dinner with the guys?” I added as she sank down into the seat with a sigh.
“No.” She smiled and looked down, digging at her fingernails intently. “This will sound weird, but I still feel like the new guy. I mean, Harry is friendly, but the others? I don’t even think we’ve had a single conversation. I feel much more comfortable around you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why did hearing her say that make my heart pound?
“That’s fair enough I guess,” I replied. “We’ve gotten to know each other a little better.”
She looked up and met my gaze. I watched her lips tug into a smile.
“It’s not even that. I’m not the most approachable person. I have this habit of guarding myself pretty closely. But I feel like I’ve known you forever. I can’t help but laugh at your stupid jokes.”
“That’s because they’re comedy gold,” I said, winking at her. “My talent is wasted on most people. You’re one of the few people that appreciates my gift.”
She laughed again. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.” She pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. “Sometimes I wish it could be this easy with everyone.”
“So work on that,” I encouraged her.
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it’s safer not to. The less people I let in, the smaller the chances are of me getting hurt.”
Hearing her talk like that just about snapped my heart in two. What had happened in this girl’s life to make her think that way? It just wasn’t right for her to be so cynical about life…about love.
Because you’re so different, a little voice in my head pointed out. How many people have you let in?
“I get it,” I finally said. “I do the same thing. But I think I do it for different reasons.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve hurt a lot of the people I love. I think I push people away because I’m afraid of hurting them.” I stood up. This was way too deep a conversation to be having without alcohol. “Drink?” I asked her as I opened the small fridge.
“A soda would be good,” she smiled. She raised her hand at the beer in my hand. “I thought you said you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t,” I said, popping the top and sitting back down. “I also don’t pour my heart out to pretty girls.”
She smiled shyly. “You think I’m pretty?”
My face flushed. Did she seriously not realize what she did to every guy she came in contact with? She was a walking, talking wet dream. And that naivety made her all the more sexy. There was no bigger turn-off than a girl who knew she was hot.
“I’m going to avoid answering that at the risk of saying something I shouldn’t,” I muttered. I focused on the can in my hand, willing the conversation to move away from how hot I thought she was.
Until now, I’d done pretty well at hiding how attracted I was to her. Hell, I’d even managed to hide it from myself. Seeing her sitting opposite me with that pretty mahogany colored hair tied up in a messy bun, losing myself in her stunning emerald colored eyes…I was at risk of fucking everything up.
She’s twenty-one—four years younger than you.
You’re her manager.
But the thing stopping me most from leaping forward and kissing those sexy, plump lips was how obviously fragile she was emotionally right now. I didn’t want to be the guy who fucked her up even more than she already was—and if anyone could do that, it would be me.
I yawned and stretched my arms over my head. “At the risk of sounding old, I think I’m ready for bed.”
She raised her eyebrows, her expression skeptical. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”
“Call me old, whatever. But seriously, you try sleeping in one of those fucking bunks in the van. Especially with how loudly Kam snores. Just be grateful you have the room,” I muttered, getting to my feet.
She giggled and stood up, wrapping her arms around herself. “Sleep tight, old man. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave me a smile and walked over to the door.
I watched her leave and then flicked the lock on the door.
Fuck. What are you thinking, Sax? You need to stop this before it goes too far.
When we were together, we chatted so easily. I knew how easily things could shift from friendship to complicated—especially with the thoughts that were going through my head. She was such a sweet girl. I’d hate myself if I ended up hurting her.
My phone buzzed over by my bed. I walked over and picked it up and saw a message from Stace.
Hope you don’t expect me to give this loveable mutt back.
I laughed as I scrolled down to the photo of Broosky curled up in her lap. You could barely see her poking out from under him.
Don’t get too attached. You’re not keeping my dog. Are you still coming to Vegas?
I already knew the answer to that. Nothing would stop her from getting out there to see the Monkeys live. It was just a coincidence that we were going to be there the same week we were in town.
Fuck yes. Do you know me at all?? See you Sunday big brother xx
Chapter Twelve
Micah
Lights flashed everywhere. I struggled to take it all in. Vegas was everything I imagined it would be. Even mid-week¸ there were people everywhere.
We’d just finished our show in a hotel in the middle of the strip and the guys had deserted us in favor of getting drunk and doing God knows what else. Like most nights, Sax and I found ourselves alone, this time on the roof of the hotel.
I reached for my bottle of water and looked out over the stunning skyline. The sheer number of people here was amazing. The show had been packed. It was by far the biggest crowd I’d sung to in my life, and as terrifying as it was, hearing that applause and cheering at the end had made it all worth it.
“So, what do you actually do?” I blushed as he raised his eyebrows at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant as the manager—what does that actually involve?” I asked.
“I find shows for you guys to perform at. Like this. The whole point of this group of shows is to drum up more exposure for you guys. The more people who know about you, the better. That makes it easier for me to try and secure shows for you at festivals, or as openers for bigger bands.”
“Like the LA music festival?” I asked.
He nodded. “Exactly. I’m about ninety-five percent sure I’ll be able to get you guys on the list.”
“Wow,” I murmured. “Have you seen the headline acts for that?”
“I have,” he laughed. “Arctic Monkeys, Bloc Party, Empire of the Sun…”
Shit. Performing in front of bands like that and for fans of bands like that? That was insane. I felt sick just thinking about it.
“You’ve gone a little green there, M. Everything okay?” he chuckled and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Look, you sang in front of me that night at the bar and you did awesome. Don’t think about who is watching. Just focus on you and what’s in your head.”
“Deep,” I teased, nudging him. “Did you ever get nervous when you sang?”
“All the fucking time. I used to throw up every night before I did a show. Then I used to drink way too much after it,” he added with a laugh as he rubbed his chin.
My stomach flipped as I watched his fingers run over his stubble. He was in need of a shave, but damn it was sexy. His hair had grown a little, too—just enough that the ends were beginning to show a little bit of curl.
I looked away and sighed. I knew what I was doing and it was a bad, bad idea. There was only one way something like that could end: badly. As if he’d be interested in me anyway. I was way too young for him. Even younger than he realized, and it was so easy for me to forget that.
“The first show I ever did I threw up on stage,” he admitted.
I burst into laughter. “You’re kidding! Bullshit,” I challenged. That was the kind of thing that would’ve ended up on YouTube if it were true.
“True story,” he argued with a grin. “I was five, and it was the end of year play. We did Oliver Twist and I threw up all over a girl. To make things worse, I had the biggest crush on her. I was mortified.”
“Poor little Saxon,” I giggled. “I can’t believe that didn’t ruin you for life.”
“It did for a few years. The kids called me Chuckles all the way through until high school.”
“Kids can be cruel,” I agreed. “How the hell did you get past that and become the rock God you were?”
“Rock God?” he grinned.
I blushed. “I said ‘were,’” I shot back.
He laughed. “Music was the one thing that was always there for me. It was the one thing in my life I knew I could count on. I’d be playing my guitar in the park or on the beach, and people would stop and listen. So I started playing for tips just to give me some confidence. From there, I ended up with a few regular gigs in a couple of coffee houses and bars.” He shrugged.
“It must’ve been hard to give it all up,” I said softly.
“At the time, it was a relief. I was in way over my head. The fame was drowning me. And I haven’t lost the music. I still sing. I still play my guitar every day. Though these days it’s only Broosky who hears me,” he laughed.
“Do you ever miss it?�
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He thought for a second and then shrugged. “Sometimes. I miss the way music can make a person feel. I miss being able to do that. But the person I was…I don’t miss him.”
“Is that why you haven’t gone back? I mean, you’re still Saxon Waite. If you put out music, people would listen. Are you afraid you’ll turn into that guy again?”
He laughed and shook his head. “How about we talk about you for a while?” he suggested. I groaned and he laughed. “See—you love asking questions, but you hate answering them.”
“I’m shy,” I grinned.
“Bullshit. I don’t believe that. I’ve met shy girls before, and you’re not one of them.”
If only he knew. Around him, I felt like I could open myself up that little bit more, but that didn’t change who I was. It only made things harder.
“I’ve never even had a boyfriend,” I blurted out. As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I’d been with guys before, but nothing ever more than a one night stand here and there.
He grinned at me and shook his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. You’re twenty-one and hot as fuck.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. He thinks I’m hot? Not only hot, but hot as fuck? Was it acceptable for me to start squealing right now? Probably not.
“I didn’t mean…” He shook his head, flustered.
“What? You don’t think I’m hot?” I teased.
His face went redder. “No. I mean…Fuck.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I shouldn’t have said that, is what I meant. I’m your manager. And I’m way too old for you.”
My heart raced. That was as close as I was ever going to get to an admission from him that he liked me. The sensible thing for me to do would be let it pass and move on. Only I wasn’t feeling very sensible at the moment…
“So you do think I’m hot?” I said, my voice soft.
His eyes met mine. “What do you think?” he asked, pained.
Wicked Innocence Page 7