by BB Miller
It’s still dark out when an incessant banging wakes me. Groggily raising my head from the pillow, I realize someone is pounding on the steel door below. “Fucking hell, Matty,” a deep male voice yells from out on the landing. “Are you in there? Answer your damn phone!”
“Matt,” I hiss, pushing urgently at his shoulder. “Get up! Someone’s here.”
He grumbles unintelligibly and burrows his nose into the crook of my neck. “Wake up!” My frantic whisper is drowned out by a crashing sound against the door below that finally brings Matt bolt upright. He looks around in panic and snatches his phone off the nightstand to look at the time.
“Fuck! I should’ve been at the airport by now.” He scrambles for his jeans on the floor and pulls them on. “Put something on.” He snaps me out of my shock. I jump up and dive for my carry-on while he stumbles around, cursing and tripping over things in the dark. He takes the stairs down to the main floor, swearing under his breath. A light snaps on, bathing the loft in a soft glow. The rhythmic banging picks up again, accompanied by a weird howling.
“Shut the fuck up! I’m not the only one on this floor, you know,” I hear Matt snarl as he slides the industrial steel door aside. It’s surprisingly quiet for the door being so big. After donning some jeans and a hoodie from my case, I peek over the railing to see Sean and Tucker, Redfall’s chief security guy, enter.
“Your neighbor should be used to the company you keep by now, Matty,” Sean quips, before turning to him with a reproachful look. “You—out of all of us—are always on time. When you didn’t show up, we thought you were dead or something.”
“Or something,” Tucker scoffs, looking accusingly at Sean. “The or something is what this one was especially curious about. He wouldn’t stay behind.”
Sean bats his eyes at Matt innocently, and then he casts a sly look around the loft. “I was merely concerned as to what could’ve been keeping you … Aha!” He grins manically, having caught me peering over the bedroom railing. With a squeak, I drop back down out of sight. “Why, isn’t it the lovely Tess,” Sean purrs with wicked glee. “Come down and join us, gorgeous!”
“Fuck off,” Matt growls. “Just give me a second and we can go. Make yourself useful and pack my Rickenbacker and the three Gibsons.”
“Am I your personal errand boy now?” Sean starts to complain.
“We’re out of time. Just do it,” Tucker interjects, as I hear Matt stomp back up to the bedroom. When he reaches the top, he grabs my hand and hauls me up from where I’ve been cowering. He pulls me into the adjoining bathroom, the only area up here where we can have privacy, and shuts the door.
“I’m so sorry, Cardinal.” He sighs, pulling me into a tight hug. He buries his face in my messy hair, inhaling deeply. “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.”
“It’s okay.” I rest my forehead on his shoulder. “You’d better get going. Do you need help packing?”
He pulls back and flashes me a crooked smile. “No, but I appreciate the offer. Just stay with me while I fill a bag?”
“Of course.” He kisses me gently, and my heart skips a beat. Giving me a squeeze, he reopens the door to the bedroom and flies into action. He’s a whir as he grabs shirts, jeans, a shaving kit, and other essentials, and stuffs them into a duffel, all the while muttering to himself. It’s kind of fascinating to watch. Since the rest of his home is neat and uncluttered, I wonder if he’s usually a fastidious packer as well.
He’s finished in mere minutes, and I make sure my carry-on is ready to go as well. But he stops me from picking it up. “Here.” He plunks a key into my palm. “Take as long as you need. Go back to sleep, take a shower, whatever. You can lock up when you leave. In fact …” He looks at me nervously. “You can use this place while I’m gone, if you want.”
My eyes shoot open. “It’s closer to your office than your apartment is,” he says in a rush, the tips of his ears turning red. “If you have a late meeting or something, it might be more convenient.”
I smile gently, knowing that this is huge for him. Hell, it’s huge for me, too. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” He pulls me in tight, shuffling us away from the edge of the platform and out of sight. “I like the idea of you being here,” he adds gruffly.
We jump at the sound of someone slapping a wall downstairs. “Come on, Matty,” Sean yells. “Kiss your girl and move your arse!”
“Just wait a fucking minute!” Matt bellows over his shoulder at them. He looks at me sheepishly, as I giggle and loop my arms around his neck. “Pricks. I have to go. Code for the gate is 1984.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“You know? The Van Halen album,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Go. Have fun.” I lean back, holding his gaze. “But not too much fun.”
He gives my ass a smack before he lets me go. “That goes for you, too, ya know.” He laughs at my startled look and gives me one last kiss before he jogs down the stairs. Tucker calls again for him to hurry. I step over to the railing and face the amused looks of Sean and Tucker, and stick my chin out defiantly.
“You boys play nice and stay out of trouble, now,” I call mockingly, to which Tucker laughs. “No bar fights or bordellos, you hear?”
“Yes, Mother.” Sean gives me a cheeky salute, before Tucker pushes him out the door. The hulking security guard is next, followed by Matt, who turns and gives me one last longing look before shutting and locking the door behind him.
The silence is deafening. I sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling exhausted and alone. It’s four in the morning, and I wonder if I should just go in to work.
Fuck it. I set my phone alarm, curl up around his pillow, and drift off, his scent surrounding me.
Work can wait.
Matt
“WELL, WELL, WELL. Look what the Brit dragged in.” Cam smirks at me from his prime location on the private jet. He’s already settled in for the marathon flight, legs outstretched on the expensive leather seat in front of him, guitar close by. “Too busy to join your own tour?”
“Our Grasshopper was otherwise occupied, Three,” Sean chimes in as I make my way into the jet. I’ve already had to sit through almost half an hour of endless teasing on the drive to the airport. I don’t need more of this shit, especially this early in the morning.
“This have anything to do with a certain dark-haired, feisty beauty with an ass to die for?” Cameron asks.
“Mmm. And those tits, man. She looked good enough to eat this morning,” Sean adds. I try not to let their typical banter bother me, but the thought of either of them, of anyone, being even remotely interested in Tess doesn’t sit well.
Narrowing my eyes at Sean, I sink down into one of the empty seats after giving him a shove. “She’s off limits. You hear me?”
“You’ve never minded sharing before,” Cameron starts, nursing a large mug of coffee. Cam is starting to look better. This latest stint in rehab has been good for him. It’s scary to watch someone you’ve known for so long, someone you consider to be your brother, go off the rails. It seems like the band has been through hell and back over the last couple of years. Sean once said we’d always be a work in progress, but it feels like we’re finally through the worst of it.
“Yeah? Well, I mind now.” I shrug out of my jacket and try to get settled.
“They seemed pretty cozy there this morning at Matty’s place. You should’ve seen our boy here. All flustered and racing around like a bloody idiot.”
“Sorry I missed that. I was too busy being on time and everything,” Cam takes another shot at me, and I flip him off. It’s not like we’ve never waited for him before.
“You sure you know what you’re doing there?” Sean asks quietly, shoving his red cowboy hat onto my head and tugging the brim over my eyes.
“I don’t have a clue.”
He laughs, dropping into the seat beside me. “That’s my life on a daily basis, my friend. It’s also part of the fun, yeah?”
I try to ignore him, and tug my phone from my pocket, switching it on only to have it yanked from my hands by Sean. “Don’t.” There’s a warning in his voice that doesn’t get by me.
“Give me back my phone.”
“This is for your own good. You don’t want to text or call her right now, trust me. Let it simmer. Let her think about you for a while, maybe even miss you a little.” He holds his arm high up, waving the phone away from me.
“You mean miss his extra-small dick?” Cam asks through a laugh.
“That, too,” Sean answers. “It’s all about the buildup, the anticipation.”
“Not another one of your laws, Murphy. Not this time.” I try to wrestle his arm down, but he twists away and darts into the row in front of me. Damn drummer is a pain in the ass.
“You love me and my laws. When have they ever steered us wrong before?” Sean challenges.
“You want a list?”
He taps on the screen of my phone as Tucker boards the plane and grabs a seat near the door. I’m going to have to change the code on my phone again. “Seems the lovely Tess is not too anxious to text you. Though there is one from a Candee spelled with two Es.” He pauses to lift a brow at me and shake his head before continuing. “She’s sent you some borderline X-rated texts.”
“Damn. I thought I had blocked her.” I sink back to the seat, giving up the fight. There’s no point really. Once the Brit has something in that thick head of his, there’s no stopping him.
“Oh hell! There’re photos as well. Candee’s into role-playing.” He scans my phone with interest before shrugging. “She’s going all ‘stranger in a trench coat and nothing else’ on you. Been there, done that. And these types are never really gone, Matty. You know that. Like an annoying fungus that you can’t really get rid of.”
“Or an STD,” Cam chimes in.
“I’ve never once had an STD, I’ll have you know,” Sean announces. “Wrap it. That’s the key. Sometimes twice. You’re doing that, yeah, Grasshopper? I mean Tessa is brilliant in every way, but you never know.”
“You need to shut up now, and I want my phone back,” I growl. He continues to hold the phone above his head.
“I’ll give you back your phone if you promise me you’re being safe.”
“I’m being safe,” I deadpan.
“I don’t believe you. Your eye twitched. Telltale sign of a liar,” he rants, pointing his finger at me.
“My eye twitched because you’re being an idiot.”
“I’m surprised it doesn’t twitch all the time,” Cam offers.
The sound of the door to the plane being closed by the attendant puts a halt to Sean’s ridiculous antics, and he returns to the seat beside me, tossing me the phone. “Big of you. Thanks, and I’m keeping this hat, by the way,” I say, relaxing back into the seat.
“It is pretty awesome,” he agrees, pounding out a beat on the brim. “I’ll allow one text before we take off.”
“You’ll allow it, hmm?” I shake my head, deleting the text from Candee, whom I only spent a couple of hours with over a year ago at a meet and greet in Philly last year. How she got my number in the first place, I’m not sure. I block her number. Psycho fans are one thing I can live without.
The attendant, a scrawny twentysomething hipster with dark glasses and a man-bun, moves to the front of the plane, clearing his throat to get our attention. He gives us detailed instructions on safety procedures that none of us really bother listening to before he moves to his seat for takeoff. In days gone by, when Brodie was alive and managing us, I’m positive most of our flight attendants were hired from an escort agency. I feel a twinge of guilt about being glad there’s not a woman in a barely-there outfit onboard to tempt me.
Brodie was toxic. I know that now. None of us could see just how far gone he was. How he was taking us along with him on a ride that ultimately ended with him taking his own life. Brodie was always there with booze, drugs—which I stayed away from—and of course, women. My weakness.
The thought is a harsh reminder of my past and the sheer number of forgettable women I’ve been with. This thing with Tess is so new, so different, it’s a little unnerving, and I curse the timing of this tour again.
Staring at my phone and our last text exchange, I wonder if Sean is right. There’s something to be said about anticipation. Hell, we’re driven by it every single time we get ready for a concert. That shot of pure adrenaline just before you take the stage, having to wait until the lights dim and the crowd ignites, is addictive.
There’s probably a million things I could text to Tess: how I miss her already, how I’m terrified that I’ll screw this up, how I wish for once in my life I wasn’t in a band with demands that take me halfway around the world. Instead, I just leave her with this:
I can still taste you on my tongue.
The Sydney Airport is pure mayhem. I think Tucker is close to having an aneurism when we get through customs and he sees the crowds. It’s more insane with every venue we play. More incessant flashes from the paparazzi, the pulse of the frenzied crowd screaming our names and demanding our attention.
We indulge them, much to Tucker’s horror. Our fans are insanely loyal, and it’s something I hope we never take for granted. We would be nothing without the fan base. A lot of musicians try to avoid this kind of chaos, but we thrive on it. We sign more autographs and pose for more pictures in a twenty-minute period than we can count before Tucker navigates us to a waiting SUV outside the terminal.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sean hollers once we’re secured and whisked away from the airport.
“I’m going to have to hire more security,” Tucker grumbles, shaking his head.
“Get over here, mate.” Sean tugs on Tucker’s arm as he tries to crowd us all in the back of the SUV to take the traditional picture that will end up on Instagram.
“But Lane’s not here,” Cam starts as Sean takes a series of photos.
“We’ll take another one when Romeo arrives. When’s he due to make an appearance, anyway?”
“I’m picking him up in the morning,” Tucker replies, shifting back into his seat as we wind our way into the light traffic. Time changes suck, and not in a good way. I’m beyond exhausted, having gotten little to no sleep on the plane. Sleep is never easy for me, and the last thing I need is to have a nightmare when we’re thirty thousand feet in the air. It’s happened a couple of times before, and the results haven’t been pretty, so I try to stay awake as much as I can.
Having posted our arrival in the land down under on Instagram, Sean’s now on his cell while I’m trying to resist the temptation of my own.
“Syd! We’re in your city!” he hollers into the phone. I can hear annoyed shrieking from Sean’s twin sister on the other end of the phone as he tugs it away from his ear with a grimace.
“I’m sorry, Syd. You know how I am with time zones,” he says once her ranting dies down. “I didn’t even think about what time it would be there. But we’re in Sydney! You know I always call when we get here.”
As Sean babbles to Sydney, I reach for my own phone, switching it on. It chimes with a number of texts and voice mails that I don’t bother with. There’s only one I’m interested in, and when I finally see it, it’s like I can breathe a bit easier.
Cardinal: I can still feel you between my legs.
“That was brilliant,” Sean announces from behind his drum kit as we take a much-needed break. We’re currently in hour three of rehearsals with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra at the historic Opera House, something arranged by Cameron’s parents’ connections.
With the release of our latest album that features Redfall joining forces with some unlikely musicians, we’re starting to be known even more now for pushing the boundaries of our traditional hard rock sound. Playing with the world-class musicians of the Sydney Symphony is going to raise some eyebrows.
We probably would’ve gotten to play with them regardless of Cameron’s family’s
influence, but I think it happened a lot sooner than it would’ve otherwise. It’s easy sometimes to forget that Cameron comes from a line of billionaires all with their own charities and personal interests. His parents are based in Boston and spend a lot of their time supporting the arts. And while Cam tries to distance himself from their suffocating influence, I know that he’s on board with their charitable side.
Today, we’re practicing with the symphony and several gifted child prodigies who are here on an exchange from Boston, funded completely by the Chapmans. The kind of money his parents have is staggering, and it would be very easy for Cam to become jaded and develop an elitist attitude. He spent the better part of his life trying to break free from the chains that tie him down, to make a name for himself that isn’t connected to the expectations of his bloodline.
Tonight, he’s doing just that, playing alongside some of the most gifted musicians I’ve ever heard in my life, and never missing a step along the way. Cameron grins at me as Kennedy pushes back from the piano and moves to talk to the conductor.
I sling my bass behind my back and flex my fingers. They actually hurt from playing so much, and it feels good. This grueling practice provides a much-needed distraction from my wandering thoughts.
No further texts from Tess has me confused. I’m glad she doesn’t feel the need to text me on the regular, but another part of me is annoyed I haven’t heard from her. I guess that sums up our relationship pretty well: a constant dichotomy. I never really know what to expect, and that’s both exciting and terrifying.
“That was insane. Who would’ve thought ‘Rough Love’ could sound like that?” Cam asks almost in awe as he joins me by the refreshment table.
“You almost forget it’s a song about fucking a stranger in an alley,” I add. He laughs and opens up a sports drink. Kennedy has officially banned all alcohol when we’re practicing. It’s probably something that should’ve happened a long time ago. Maybe if it did, we wouldn’t have lost Brodie. Maybe a lot of things wouldn’t have happened, but I learned a long time ago that you can’t change the past as much as you might want to.