by Emme Rollins
He smiled and kissed me again, this time deeper, probing. His whole body pressed insistently against mine, and I let out a soft moan.
“Let’s go home.”
Dex smirked. “Yes. On to my favorite part of this date.” He fisted his hand in my hair and pulled me even closer. I closed my eyes and inhaled, enjoying the scent of his skin, just as ready for what came next as he was.
*
The next day I was still floating on a cloud. Dex and I had made love all night, but I didn’t feel tired at all. I left Dex sleeping, grabbed a quick breakfast, and then went over to the venue to meet Ryan.
When I got backstage, he was on the phone, so I ran through some now-automatic tasks, checking that everything would be ready for the show.
I waved at Red, who was wrangling his expanded security team, now that the guys were attracting so much media attention. He was in his customary t-shirt and black cargo pants, massive arms crossed, looking every inch the intimidating bodyguard.
He saw me and gestured for me to join them. I did, feeling ridiculously short among the big, brawny men.
“Becca, I’m glad you’re here. Let me introduce you to my new crew.” He recited a list of names, and I scrawled each one down in my notes, so I could be sure to remember them. Each of the five was more imposing than the last, but they smiled politely.
“Nice to meet you all. I’m sure Red has everything under control, but if you need anything, feel free to ask me.”
Red grinned. “She means it, fellas. Becca keeps this crazy train running, don’t let anyone tell you different.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop it. We all give one hundred percent.”
“Well, your hundred is worth a lot more than some others.” He arched an eyebrow, and I realized he was talking about Mia. It was nice to see some of the team knew what she did to me and Dex, and didn’t like it either.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Red, I headed back to where I’d left Ryan. We had a long list of things to do, and the day was flying by.
I found him just hanging up.
“Good morning, Rebecca,” he said.
“Hi Ryan.”
“Did you enjoy your days off?”
I nodded. “Sure. Um…how about you?”
“I don’t get days off.” He sniffed. “While you and the boys have been enjoying Paris, I’ve been working.”
“Right, of course. Sorry,” I muttered. He sure knew how to bring down a good mood. “Shall we get started?”
“Before we begin, there are a few things I need to discuss with you.”
Oh boy, here we go. I braced myself for another lecture.
“First of all, I want to commend you for performing your required tasks adequately. I appreciate that you responded to my messages on your off days. As you know, this business never stops. And as things escalate, we all need to keep on top of things.”
“Right. I mean, thank you.” It wasn’t exactly effusive praise, but I’d take it.
“Yes. Second issue, you should know Mia is leaving the tour.”
My heart leapt a little. “She is?” I tried to ask evenly.
“Yes. She decided it was best. While she’s an excellent member of the team, her dreams lie elsewhere.”
“I see. What does this mean for the tour blog?”
“I’ll be hiring someone new to be onboard by the time we get to Zurich, hopefully, or Milan. In the meantime, I’ll need you to work on it. We won’t have the video content, but you can use whatever you like from the official photographs.”
That made sense. We hired a local photographer in each city to get shots backstage at the venue, and during the shows. All of their pictures were uploaded to a site we and the label could access for whatever promotional purposes were required. I didn’t say it to Ryan, but the truth was Mia had been mostly using those for her infrequent posts anyway, on the blog and the band’s Facebook page. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last video she took, so no one would notice the difference. I wasn’t particularly excited about adding a new task to my list, but considering I was still on “probation,” there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I’d just hope he got someone new quickly.
“Okay, great,” I said, jotting down some information. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. With sales of the album increasing and the attention the band is receiving, things are going to get even more hectic. You understand that, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be calling on you more in the upcoming weeks. There are some high-level discussions going on that I can’t disclose at this point. But I will say this. Work harder than you ever have before. Dream Defiled has limitless potential, and we’re all going to do our parts to help them become the biggest band in the world.”
My throat went dry. Not that I didn’t want the guys to be successful. I did. But when I signed on, I had no idea what the future might hold. And now that my feelings for Dex were getting deeper, it worried me a bit. The pressures and stresses super stardom created.
I’d seen so many friends of my dad, or groups he worked with, go to the next level just to implode. I didn’t want that for the band, and I feared how my lover might react. This group was his family. His everything. I silently hoped they could keep it together. Maintain the closeness that made them great together.
“All right. We only have a few hours left before sound check. Come with me,” Ryan said.
I nodded and followed him back to the loading dock, but my mind was a million miles away. Fortunately, most of my tasks were easily performed without much attention. We went through the normal dramas, missing boxes, minor equipment damage, late staff, but things mostly ran smooth.
By the time the band arrived, we were ready for them. I had just finished correcting the venue’s ridiculously wrong setup of the dressing room when the invasion began. After two days without work, everyone was full of energy. The guys seemed to be itching to play some music, so they dropped bags and clothes off, and practically raced onstage to get going. I smiled, getting a quick wink from Dex before they left.
I arranged everything they’d dropped, and then went out to watch from the floor of the club. I waved at the equipment tech, Steve, up at the sound board with the venue’s technician.
Joe led the guys through a quick sound check, and I noticed Liss hadn’t come over with them. I hoped she would show up later for the show. I wanted to thank her for the advice, and see how her man had reacted to her new tattoo. I dashed off a text to her, checking in, and turned my attention back to the stage.
Of course, they sounded great. But in the middle of a song, I remembered that no one had made copies of the new set list. So instead of staying to listen, I had to run and find the manager of the venue to get it printed off and copied for the guys. It was a tiny oversight that only I knew about, but it bugged me. I was a little off my game at a time I really couldn’t afford to be.
Luckily, the club’s manager, Arnaud, was in his office and happy to help me. He was medium height and very slim, with a wild mop of curly black hair and a playful smile. His English wasn’t great, but I couldn’t complain since my French was abysmal. We communicated fine, and he told me stories of disastrous shows and hilarious mishaps while I got the set lists together.
I was still giggling at one of his stories as I went back to the stage. The guys had cleared out, probably back to the dressing room to drink and eat. I placed a list at each designated place and was about to find Ryan, when I saw Rick stomping over to his drum set. He crouched down as if searching for something
“Uh, hey. Is there anything you need?” I asked him cautiously.
“Not from you,” he snarled.
“Okay.” I shrugged it off, used to his terrible attitude.
He stood up, shoving what looked like a small scrap of fabric into the pocket of his jeans.
“Well, um…see you later.” I headed past him to the wings, but he slid over to block my way.
�
�Hang on a sec.”
I looked up into his cold, green eyes. “What is it?”
“There’s something you need to know.”
“All right.” I glanced around, but no one was in sight.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I met his gaze, narrowing my eyes.
“Nice. I knew it.”
“Knew what? Stop talking in riddles.”
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
I gasped. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Don’t try that ‘little miss innocent’ act on me. I see through you. You think because you’re back, that you’re untouchable. But I didn’t want you back. We don’t need you.”
“I…” I paused. “Look, you don’t have to like me. I don’t care. But I’m just here to do my job. If you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.”
“But you don’t,” he spat. “You’re always around. Distracting Dex, trying to turn him into the same pussy-whipped sack of shit Joe is lately. This is my band and these are my guys. The last thing we need is a bunch of homely sluts hanging on.”
Without thinking, I reared back and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed in the quiet club, and we both froze with shock.
“Truth hurts, sweetheart?”
I bristled at his voice, dripping with sarcasm. “This conversation is over. Let me by.”
“You go when I say you go. Hit me all you want. But it won’t change the fact that you’re nothing to us. They all bent over backwards to keep you around, but it had nothing to do with you. That was about Dex. Because he’s a breakdown waiting to happen.
“No one stood up when my girl got fired for doing exactly the same thing. Because I’m a grown ass man. I handle my problems instead of drowning them in liquor.”
I dimly recalled hearing that the girl who had my job before me had been let go when Ryan found out she’d had a fling with Rick. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to get anywhere near him. And sure, it was unfair. But that wasn’t my fault.
“You say you guys are so close, then why are you talking about Dex light that?”
“Because I know who he really is. And it isn’t the same guy playing house with you right now. What are you going to do when he implodes? Bring him a cookie? What about when he gets tired of looking at your fat ass and dealing with your boring personality? You still gonna be fetching beers when he’s banging supermodels every night? Gonna deliver condoms to his room and wade through the groupies?”
A war was happening inside my head. Part of me wanted to slap him again. A lot. Just wail on him for being such an asshole. But his words stung, too. Hurt me somewhere deep inside that I had been struggling to hide. Tears pricked at my eyes and I fled, shoving past him to escape. I wouldn’t let him see me cry, couldn’t give him the satisfaction, but I couldn’t stop it from happening.
I hid out from everyone for the rest of the afternoon and evening. When the guys headed out for dinner, I just pretended to be busy, found an empty room, and sat there alone. I’d never experienced such a roller coaster of emotions in one day, and it exhausted me. I dozed off in a chair, surrendering to the calm of oblivion.
By the time I re-emerged, it was time for the show, and no one seemed to notice my mood. I kept my distance from everyone, even Dex. And when we all went back to the hotel, I squeezed his arm and said goodnight in the hallway, not giving him a chance to question why, or ask me to join his plan to hit some bars with the others.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day there wasn’t time for talking to Dex or anything but work. The guys had interviews all day, and then the night off. The next day was our last show in Paris. I had a ton of work, including untangling the mess Mia had made of the band’s online presence. I was tucked away in a corner of the suite we’d rented to host the journalists, trying to concentrate on what was in front of me. But Rick’s words kept playing over and over in my head, and I found myself staring at the guys as they chatted and posed for photos.
Joe, as always, was the consummate professional. He charmed everyone, commanding the room. But I could see a bit of strain around his eyes. Probably because Liss would be going back to the States in a few days. I was going to miss her too, so he must have been crushed. Even though we weren’t halfway through the tour yet, it felt like an ending.
Dex and Matthew were huddled close. An unlikely pair, from physical to personality differences, their closeness was obvious. Dex seemed to bring the shorter man out of his shell a bit, and Matthew inspired a sweet, protective side of Dex.
And then there was Rick. Standing apart from the others, he only engaged a reporter when asked a specific question, and his face never cracked a smile for a photograph. I wondered why he was even in the band if everything made him so angry.
I frowned, and turned my attention back to the work I was doing. Ryan had charged me with working harder, and I was going to do just that. Push away my own confusion and get things in order. I needed to prove to him that I could rise to the challenge. And I needed to prove to myself that no matter what happened, I could do my job, and do it well.
And somewhere, in the middle of lists and calls and everything else, I stopped thinking about my problems and just enjoyed doing what I liked. From an early age, maybe as a response to the chaos of the creative-types surrounding me, I loved organizing things. Closets, boxes, books, anything. When I had nightmares, instead of crawling into bed with my father, I’d go into his home studio and arrange sheet music and his files.
Then, after he had the stroke, there was so much to do. A house to clean and organize. Boxes in the house, the garage, a storage facility. I whipped through it all, getting his life in order while my heart ached with worry.
Even when he’d gone into the care home, I made sure his room was perfectly arranged. Selling the house had provided more distractions that appealed to my meticulous nature. Selling things, donating others, keeping a few mementos, I’d spent hours going through the remnants of his old life. Remembering good times and bad. Crying alone, surrounded by my past.
Maybe it was obsessive or weird, but I was good at keeping things together, even when I was falling apart. I’m sure a psychologist would say I was hiding from my feelings, but sometimes you just have to find a way through. Sometimes coping is the best you can hope for.
And now, on the tour, cope is what I did. Through the busy day into the evening, when the rest of the band left and I was alone with Dex.
I didn’t tell him about my argument with Rick. I didn’t say a word about my fears. I just kissed him and took his hand, letting him lead me out into Paris. It was our last night, and I wanted to enjoy it. Even more, I wanted him to enjoy it.
We had dinner at a lovely bistro. The menu was two pages, and the food filled the plates. Afterwards, he surprised me with tickets to the Eiffel Tower. For the first time that day, I was truly excited. We hurried through the streets to make our time. They had a very strict set of rules, and I didn’t want to risk missing a trip to the top.
In the line with our group, a pair of women recognized Dex. Fortunately, they just said hello and didn’t make a scene. He took one picture with them, and then we were alone again.
Once we got to the top of the tower, I wouldn’t have cared if the entire world came up to him. I was mesmerized by the city below us. Lights dotting the landscape as far as I could see. The majestic and historic beauty visible from every angle.
Dex came up behind me, and put his arms around my waist. “Are you happy?”
“Very,” I replied.
“I’m glad. You’ve been quiet today, a bit somber.”
“Just tired, I guess. But this…this is perfect. Invigorating.”
“Good. I want to make you happy, Becca.”
I turned around in his arms. “You do.”
He leaned down and kissed me. In the middle, I jumped away and squealed.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing!
” I flung my arms wide. “I’m kissing the sexiest man I’ve ever met at the top of the Eiffel Tower! It’s so nuts.”
He laughed, as did a few other people nearby.
I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, it just hit me. My life is amazing.” I grabbed Dex and kissed him again. He pulled me close and drove his tongue deep inside my mouth. I gripped his back, nearly climbing his body in my haste to get even closer. Paris, and people, and lights disappeared. All that existed in that perfect moment was us.
When our time slot ended, we took the elevator back down to the ground, and found a cab to take us back to the hotel. On the way, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. From shoving my hands up the front of his shirt, to climbing atop him in the back of the cab, I was completely out of control.
The driver mentioned something about the romance of Paris getting to us, and I agreed, giddy. But it wasn’t just the city. It was Dex. He scared me and thrilled me in equal measure, and for once, I was just going to let whatever happened happen. I wanted him, needed him. And for the time being, I had him.
And so, when we finally got back to my room, I took full advantage. Throwing off my clothes quickly, I climbed up into bed and gestured for him to join me. The look of amusement on his face shifted to desire when I slid my hand over the growing bulge in his pants.
“Whatever is making you act like this, please tell me, so I can bring you twice as much every day.”
I chuckled low in my throat, and straddled him. “Shut up, Dex.”
He did, lowering his mouth to my neck and then my breasts, nipping and licking. I moaned and writhed on him, letting myself get lost in the sensations completely, as if, somewhere deep down, I knew the time for such care free passion was about to end.
*
The two weeks passed so quickly, I barely noticed. After all the drama, things were finally settling down, or so it seemed. We left Paris and managed to get to Zurich, Milan, and then Vienna for shows without any catastrophic weather or personnel changes.
By the time we arrived in Munich for another set of two concerts, Dex and I were closer than ever, and managing to find a comfortable balance between spending time together and getting tired of looking at each other. Some nights he’d go out with the group, and I’d stay at the hotel. He’d come home and we’d cuddle or make love, just enjoying our time. Other nights we’d both hit the town, checking out a combination of tourist spots and cool places recommended by locals. In every city, the crowds were bigger, the lines longer.