“Did you turn on your video camera?” he asked.
“It’s rolling,” she said, adjusting the headband she wore so that the borrowed headcam was at the side of her head and would see what she saw. Or couldn’t see in the case of the darkened area beneath the stage.
Logan helped her step up onto his platform and moved to stand behind her. She jumped when his guitar bumped against her rear and produced a low tone. His amplifier wasn’t on yet, so at least the sound didn’t radiate out into the arena.
He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from sliding up her body to cup her huge tits and give them an appreciative squeeze.
She slapped at his hands. “You can’t do that here,” she said in a loud whisper.
“Why not?” he murmured in her ear. “No one can see us.”
Her shyness fueled his brazenness, and he ran his hands down her sides just so he could slide them up under her shirt and touch the bare skin of her smooth belly.
“Logan, I’m here to work, not play,” she admonished.
“But the show is our playtime,” Logan said.
“What?”
“The band. We work damned hard at interviews and signings and meet and greets.”
“That’s working hard?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. We always work hard at all that bullshit, so we can play hard on stage.”
“So you don’t take the stage performance seriously?” With that question, Toni sounded like any number of reporters who’d interviewed him throughout his career.
“We take our playtime very seriously. If we aren’t having a good time, the crowd easily picks up on that and they don’t have as good a time either.”
“I can understand how that would be true for you, but Dare and Max seem pretty serious about every aspect of Exodus End.”
Logan scowled. Was she insinuating what he thought she was insinuating? “So you don’t think I take the band seriously?”
“Not as seriously as the others do.”
He supposed he had been slacking off most of the day, but it was because Toni kept distracting him with her wit and her smile and her sweetness and her glorious tits—he gave them another appreciative squeeze beneath her shirt.
“That’s your fault,” he said.
“My fault?” Her exasperated tone made him grin.
“Yep,” he said. “You’re hell on my concentration, baby. Even now I’m thinking of what your tight pussy feels like around my dick.”
“Logan! The camera is rolling.”
He chuckled. “You don’t think the world wants to know what a fantastic little pussy you have?”
“I don’t care what the world wants, I don’t want them to know,” she said, squirming out of his grip.
He allowed her a few inches of space and moved his hands to his bass, fearing she’d take a tumble off the edge of his platform if she got too wiggly.
“Come to think of it,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to know that but me. So I ask that you delete the footage of me praising your perfect pussy.”
She bopped him in the nose as she tried to cover his mouth and missed in the darkness. “Stop talking about it.”
“For now,” he said. “But later, when I have you bent over the arm of the sofa and I’m buried inside that hot, slick piece of heaven, I’m going to tell you all about it.”
Her shuddering intake of breath made him grin. He didn’t know why it was so much fun to get her flustered, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Will you tell me how it feels to have my dick inside you?”
“No,” she squeaked.
His grin widened. He’d have her singing his praises by the time he finished with her. It was a challenge he couldn’t refuse.
“Are you already under here, Lo?” Max said from Logan’s right.
“Yeah. Just waiting for you guys.”
“He’s under the stage,” Max called to someone. To Logan he said, “We thought you’d wandered off to get some pussy again.”
Toni gasped, and Logan cringed.
“I have all the pussy I want right here,” he said.
His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that he could make out Max standing under the center of the stage on his platform, but he couldn’t see his expression.
“You brought Toni under here?” Max asked.
“She’s filming.”
“Hi, Max,” she said quietly. She squeezed Logan’s arm at the same time. He wasn’t sure if the gesture meant she was nervous or appreciative. Damn this darkness.
“Toni’s under here too!” Max called to someone. “Reagan was looking for you,” Max said. “She thought you might want to ride up to the stage with her.”
“She’s riding me,” Logan said, his slip not the least Freudian. He’d meant it to sound sexual. Especially since now he knew how good she was at riding him. If they’d had more time, he’d have let her ride him all slow and sensually for hours. He couldn’t wait to sequester her in his hotel room.
“You’re way in the back, Lo,” Reagan said from the darkness on the other side of the stage. “She won’t get good footage back there.”
“Maybe I can ride with you next time, Reagan,” Toni said. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
Her tight grip on Logan’s forearm made him feel like she wanted his protection, and he was proud to offer it willingly.
“Stand behind me,” he said, “and hold on. Steve will go first. My platform jerks a bit when it first starts to rise, so brace yourself.” He was already used to the stage setup since they’d performed about a dozen shows with the new hydraulics. He’d almost fallen on his ass the first time he’d ridden the platform up to the stage.
“Okay,” Toni said, her voice small, her grip tight.
“About halfway up, we’ll be completely surrounded. Like we’re in a metal tunnel. So if you’re claustrophobic—”
“I’m not.”
He was. But just a little.
One of the stagehands appeared beside him with a flashlight so he could turn on Logan’s amp and connect his ear feed. “You’re live,” he said. He gave him an earplug for his other ear and even provided Toni with a pair.
“One minute,” he heard Mad Dog, their front of house sound engineer, say through his earpiece.
“One minute,” he whispered to Toni, who couldn’t hear Mad Dog’s raspy instructions.
Toni pressed her face into his shoulder. He could feel the trembling of her body behind him. “It’s okay,” he said, though she probably couldn’t hear him through the earplugs.
The stage shuddered as Steve banged out the intro of “Ovation” and his glowing blue platform began to rise at the rear of the stage. As the drum kit slowly rose into view, the crowd erupted into cheers that shook the arena. Logan patted Toni’s hip to remind her that they were next and tugged a guitar pick from the tape stuck to his stock. His fingers found his strings automatically. He started playing on his cue—filling the drum progression with the low tones of the bass intro—and braced his feet for the jolt he knew was coming as a door above him slid open and the platform he and Toni were standing on began the slow ascent to the stage. After the initial lurch, the ride was smooth and steady. Toni’s death grip on his arm loosened when she seemed to realize he needed that arm to play. To Logan’s right, Reagan’s platform was rising from the floor as well. The crowd watched in hushed awe.
Still beneath the stage, Max chanted the beginning of the song, his voice deep and raw with an edge unique to Exodus End.
Rise from the ashes.
Rise above it all.
There’s a sea of fists before you.
Demanding one final call.
It’s not over yet.
Though the curtain went down.
They want more.
More!
Stand before them.
Give it your all.
They own you.
What!
Own you.
It’s your ovation.
No!
Their ovation.
Give it to them.
Give it to them.
Give it to them nowwwwwwwwww.
The crowd sang along with Max, as did Logan. He couldn’t help but rock his body to the beat. Music lived inside him, and it was during concerts that he let it burst free.
There was a loud bang as flames and sparks announced Max’s platform shooting him out of the floor like a cannon. He leaped onto the stage and landed with what Logan had started referring to as the “cool stick-it landing.” Not as graceful as a gymnast’s, but a thousand times more metal. From his crouch, Max slowly rose to his full height, lifting his arm in the air to rouse the crowd as he carried the final note of the intro.
Dare’s rise to the stage was announced by the wail of his guitar. The crowd erupted once more as the powerhouse that was Darren Mills made his first appearance.
“Gets better every night, guys,” Mad Dog said into the feed. He sounded strangely emotional about the fact. “Logan, move forward, the crowd can’t see you back there.”
Like anyone came to an Exodus End show to see him. But Logan obeyed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Toni had found a safe place. She was standing next to the drum kit, staring up at the flailing arms of Steve Aimes with her mouth hanging open. Yeah, dude was wicked fast, but no need to gawk.
Logan squelched the annoying pangs of jealousy twisting his gut and headed to the front of the stage for a little fun. He especially liked toying with Reagan because the woman was sexy as sin and every dude in the arena had a boner over her. Logan was sure they were all picturing themselves as him—leaning up against her back while holding his bass guitar at a ninety degree angle from his crotch and playing it suggestively. Or maybe they were stroking something other than a guitar neck.
Logan laughed when Reagan pretended to slap his face for being vulgar, before she got down and dirty with her own guitar. The male fans in the audience obviously appreciated her efforts to entertain them. Their fans had always been excitable, but they were really giving the security guards a run for their money these days in their heated attempts to get onstage. It had to be the addition of Reagan to their mix. Logan wondered if they’d keep her even if Max was able to go back to playing guitar. The band hadn’t discussed the possibility yet. Max was still a bit sensitive about the topic.
When the song ended, the crowd cheered their enthusiasm, and Max waited for them to calm down before greeting them. “How are we feeling tonight, Oregon?”
If their screams were any indication, they were fueled with almost as much adrenaline as that coursed through Logan’s veins.
“Who’s the geek?” someone in the front row yelled loud enough to be heard over the waning cheers and through the band’s earpieces.
“Geek?” Max said and turned to look behind him. He smiled when he spotted Toni. “Oh, that’s just Toni. She’s capturing footage for a band videography.”
Logan beamed with pride, but his smile faded when Toni paled, covered her lips with trembling fingertips, and fled the stage. He scowled at Max, having half a mind to give him a black eye to match Dare’s bloody nose.
“Where the fuck do you get off calling her a geek?” Logan yelled.
Max raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t call her a geek.”
“Yeah, you did.” Well, he might as well have.
“Why do you care so much, Logan?” Reagan teased from the microphone Dare used to sing harmony.
“Because,” he said, still struggling to bury his sudden rage. “She’s sensitive and gets her feelings hurt easily.”
“Or maybe it’s because you like her,” Reagan egged him on.
“What is this, junior high?” Max grumbled.
“I think he likes her tits,” Dare said with a wry grin.
“If you like tits, check these out,” yelled some male fan standing behind a woman squashed against the barrier fence. He then lifted the woman’s shirt to display her rather impressive rack. The woman struggled to lower her shirt before slapping the shit out of the guy.
“That was uncalled for,” Max said to the guy and shook his head at him. “If she wants to show us her tits, that’s one thing . . .”
Which of course prompted the chesty woman to give them a second eyeful.
“I’ve got something in my pants I want to show Reagan,” a different male fan yelled and grabbed at his crotch.
“Not interested, honey,” Reagan said.
That didn’t deter the guy. “I’d like to put it in your—”
“Hey!” Dare yelled down at the dude. He shifted Reagan’s body behind his back and pointed an angry finger at the fan. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
Max sagely segued into the next song before things got really out of hand. Normally Logan would have joined in on the confrontation and tried to escalate it all in good fun, but he was worried about Toni. He hoped she wasn’t too upset over being humiliated. How could anyone mistake her for a geek? Was it her glasses? He didn’t get it. She was perfect. And if he hadn’t had a concert to perform, he would have gone after her and told her exactly that.
MAY 3
* * *
Dear Journal,
I don’t fit in here. Not that I expected to. But I honestly didn’t realize how different—how weird—I really am. And I don’t mean just different from the band. I’m not even slightly normal. A stranger called me a geek in front of more than ten thousand people and instead of standing up for myself, I ran back to the bus to write about it in my journal. Who does that?
Why is it so easy for me to write down how I feel but so hard for me to say it?
I should have stayed. I was right there in the middle of it all, getting great footage for the book, and I panicked.
I’m not sure I’m doing a good job. I could use a little feedback. I really need to call Susan and talk to her about my progress and see if she has suggestions—Mom is going to be so mad at me for not checking in with my editor today—but the woman makes me nervous. She’s so loud. And those text messages she keeps sending aren’t putting my fears at ease. Six of them today. All asking if she should come take my place or if I was on my way home. I know she wanted to do this project and she’s made it perfectly clear that she thinks the only reason I was allowed to do such an important job is because my mom owns the company. But I’m qualified for this job. I have all the education and skills to pull it off. I know that, even if no one else does.
So why do I feel like I’m doomed to fail? Maybe because I’ve been having so much fun that it doesn’t feel like work. Or maybe it’s because I feel so alienated. No one is making me feel that way—I’m doing it to myself. I realize that. But knowing I’m my own worst enemy doesn’t make me feel any better.
Enough about my stupid insecurity.
I’d rather talk about more interesting people.
I’m really confused about Reagan. She was flirting with and kissing on Trey Mills—he saw her in her underwear—so it seemed like she was in a relationship with him. But she also keeps flirting with and touching this other guy—some really dark and gorgeous security guard (I need to find out what his name is)—and I thought it was harmless, but I heard him in the dressing room with her and I think they were having sex. So is she cheating on Trey or is she cheating on the security guard or is it possible to have more than one lover at a time? I don’t know how anyone could keep up with more than one man. I’m having a hard enough time keeping up with Logan. He mentioned today that he’s had sex with more than one person at a time, so I guess it happens. I just don’t think I’d be able to do something like that.
Oh Logan. He’s so . . . alive. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who approaches life the way he does. Balls out and full throttle. Haha! He does some crazy stuff, like bungee jumping and freestyle motocross and who knows what else. I’d never be able to do any of that stuff. But it’s pretty impressive that he does. I wish I was as brave as he is.
I’m learning so much from him abou
t sex. And he’s really nice to me and patient and doesn’t make fun of me when I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t think he has the same feelings for me that I have for him. His actions confuse me. He’s very possessive—he even punched Dare Mills because I hugged him. And he said he liked me, but he also said that he couldn’t be trusted to be monogamous.
Maybe asking him to teach me how to be a good lover was a mistake. I’m obviously not good at keeping emotions out of a sexual relationship. I know when we have to part ways at the end of this job that never seeing him again is going to be unbearably painful, but that doesn’t stop me from going back for more.
I still haven’t gotten to talk much to Steve and Max. I did talk to Dare for a while this evening, but mostly because he was trying to get back at Logan for punching him. Dare seems like a really nice guy, but I don’t think I’d want to get on his bad side. I wonder if Dare knows that Reagan is cheating on his brother. Would he tell Trey if he knew? I don’t want to cause problems, so I don’t think I should ask him, but I do think I would want to know if Logan was sleeping with other women. There’s definitely plenty of opportunity for him to do so.
It would be nice if I had someone to talk to about all this. I’m so mixed up right now. Do I even have a right to demand he has sex with no one but me? If he did stray, I’d want to know because I think fidelity is important.
And then I guess we’d have to part ways. Would I be able to give him up?
Why do I always get so hung up on could-happens and planning my reactions to potential occurrences? I wish I could be more like Logan and not worry about such things. I guess he has more to teach me than just sex.
The rest of the day was busy and tonight I need to go through my notes and footage so I can get organized and figure out what other clips I need to gather at the next show.
Tomorrow is a travel day and I start the one-on-one interviews with the band members. I hope they trust me enough to give me some good insight into their lives.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1 Page 19