Detour Complete Series

by Kacey Shea

  “And thanks for not trying to get in my pants.” She grins, wider now, and I feel as though she’s playing some kind of mindfuck game. She’s gotta be on to me, inside my head, knowing I’ve been thinking unprofessional thoughts throughout this entire breakfast.

  “Who says I’m not trying to do that?” I go with humor, always my best defense, and it works when she laughs aloud.

  “You’re such a manwhore.”

  “You got me.” I join in her laugher and pray my little obsession with her mouth dissipates the further into this tour we go. Lexi is a cool chick, more down to earth than I ever imagined, and she deserves the best. More than I could ever give, that much is true.

  We finish our food in companionable silence and I hand the server cash before she can set down the check.

  “I’ll leave the tip,” Lexi offers.

  I take one last drink of coffee and stand up from the booth. “No, I already got it. You ready?”

  “Don’t you need to wait for your change?” She slides out of the booth.

  “Nah.”

  Her eyes widen and she blinks twice. “But you handed her a hundred,” she whispers as if someone might overhear.

  I laugh and sling my arm around her shoulder to steer her through the tables and toward the exit. “Like I said, there’s plenty for the tip.” I don’t do it all the time, but when I have a good meal, and a server who does their job efficiently, I enjoy passing on an unexpected tip to a stranger—hopefully making their day brighter.

  “Trent Donavan! Is that you?” A woman’s voice calls from behind and while I know I have to turn around, I don’t want to. It’s been so nice having a reprieve from the fame, the special attention, the fake smiles and inflated compliments. Having a real conversation with a real woman. Something I didn’t know I even needed or wanted.

  I turn, a casual expression plastered on my face, and brace myself for a line of autograph seeking fans. Only it’s not a fan, and I’m overcome with surprise at seeing a familiar face. “Cora!”

  “Trent!” Her big screen smile strides over from a corner of the diner. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing!” I capture her in a hug that lifts her off the ground. She pulls back enough to seek my eyes, her grin pulling wider.

  Cora’s one of the rare model-turned-actresses who would probably be successful and stay grounded in any career she pursued. We met years ago in LA at a house party, but no matter how much time or how much fame comes between us, she always stays the same.

  “I’m here for the next two months. Filming.”

  “Oh, you resort to porn after all?”

  She laughs with a big snort. “No, dork. Lead for the next CoHo book turned movie. You have a show tonight?” Her eyes light up and I can guess why. There’s one other thing Cora and I do really well together.

  It’s then I remember who’s standing right behind me. Shit. I step back so Lexi’s by my side. “Yeah, you should come. Cora, this is Lexi Marx. She’s opening for us this tour and sings like a frickin’. . . I don’t even know. She just sounds good.” I’m not sure exactly how she’ll take the compliment and I can’t quite meet her eyes. Raking my fingers through my hair from where it falls forward in my face, I watch as Cora reaches out to shake Lexi’s hand.

  “And I thought he hated chick singers.” She winks at Lexi. “Nice to meet you. A friend of Trent’s is a friend of mine.”

  “Who said we’re friends?” Lexi says in a tone that makes Cora laugh, but I’m not all sure she’s joking. At least not one hundred percent.

  “We need to get back, but it was really great running into you,” I say.

  “Oh! You, too.” Cora wraps me in a hug. “Maybe I’ll come by the show tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” I say and pull out of her embrace. Only it doesn’t sound good, and I’m riddled with confusion the rest of the way back to the arena. I don’t get it. Cora and I have always hooked up. It’s always good, then we go our separate ways. Perfect. Only she’s not the one I want in my bed tonight. No, that award goes to the feisty blonde next to me. The one I can’t seem to stop dreaming about. The one who up until two hours ago seemingly wanted nothing to do with my dumb ass. If Cora comes to the show tonight, expecting the usual treatment . . . Fuck, I don’t know that Mr. Trent can get it up for her. And that’s, well, it’s goddamn pathetic. No matter what happens, one thing is perfectly clear.

  I’m fucked.

  14

  Lexi

  Going out with Trent today was . . . unexpectedly pleasant. Conversation with him when no one else was around was easy. I don’t know why I felt comfortable enough to open up to him about something personal. But I did, and I trust my gut.

  He’s inviting to talk to, and I guess I didn’t realize how much I miss that. I’m a loner. An introvert. It doesn’t really bother me being on my own for long periods of time. I don’t need others, but sometimes it’s nice to want them. Not that I want Trent. Sure, he’s more than the sum of his good looks and talent and that ridiculously lengthy tongue that makes my thighs squeeze together—but I made a vow, and I’ll never go there with a rock star. Attractiveness coupled with a sincere personality doesn’t change that.

  Besides, our little run-in with his friend on the way out of the restaurant further proves no matter his redeeming qualities, he’s still a player. Something for me to remember when lustful thoughts intrude on reason.

  But it’s nice to have a friend on the road. I think we can be that for each other.

  The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. I sneak away during their sound check to hit the mall and grab a few things. Before I know it, it’s time to warm up, get dressed, and head onstage for my show—a routine that’s beginning to feel familiar, but one that still doesn’t quite feel real. Play my set. Meet fans. Sign autographs. Take photographs. Like I’m something important. Special. All for me. Because of my music, not my father.

  This is my life.

  Pinch me, because it feels like a fucking dream.

  A knock at the door pulls my attention from the red I finish painting across my lips.

  “Lexi, you ready? Curtain call in fifteen,” the show manager calls into my dressing room.

  One last look in the mirror confirms I’m ready and I straighten my skirt. “Yep. Let’s do this.”

  “Damn, girl. That line felt like it was never gonna end.” Jax smiles and pats my back before he squats down to pull out another box of shirts from behind one of the merchandise tables.

  “I know. Biggest crowd yet.” My feet hurt from standing so long in my heeled boots. Charlotte fans sure love their music. I sold and signed T-shirts and CDs well into 3UG’s set, the last of the attendees wandering inside only moments ago. I could have left an hour ago, but I enjoy taking time with each fan, and I know it makes their night. Besides, Jax is cool and he enjoys the extra sales gained from my time at the table.

  “I called it. Remember? Have you Googled yourself lately? You’re blowing up YouTube.”

  “I haven’t, but my agent called me last week. She’s seeing all the future dollar signs.” I chuckle and shake my head, remembering her screams through the line. Amie’s more than a little excited about “discovering” my talent. But she’s also one of those girls who used to scream at everything. Back in college it was football games, an A on a final, two-dollar taco nights—it never took much to get her excited, so it’s hard for me to gauge how much she’s inflating my ego and what’s real hype.

  “Yeah, I told Bedo we need to work on getting you more merch items. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have you record an album right after this tour.” He picks up my EP and raises a brow. “I hope you have more songs where this came from.”

  I swipe it from him and set it back on the table, nudging his shoulder with my own. “I’ve been writing music for years. I’ve got dozens more up here, too.” I tap my temple and jump out of reach when he tries to ruffle my hair.

  He laughs and shakes his h
ead. “Okay, kid. Go enjoy your freedom.”

  We have an extra day’s break before our next show, so tonight we’re all treated to hotels and a night away from travel. I’m eagerly awaiting an evening of peace and quiet. No snores, farts, or rumble of the bus. Only freshly laundered linens and blackout shades. After almost three weeks on the road, that’s close to heaven.

  “Oh, I will! Thanks, Jax.” I lean into his shoulder and he gives me a side hug before I walk away. The roar of applause between songs invades the mostly empty entry to the arena and I flash my pass at security to gain access. I’m tempted to join Bedo and the groupies to watch the rest of the show backstage. It’s not like I need to hustle or rush getting changed tonight. But something causes me to hesitate. I like the guys. I get along with them on the road. I don’t want anything to change that, but I’m not sure I’d feel the same after seeing them fawned over and partying with a bunch of beautiful, needy women. No. In fact, I’m certain it would piss me off pretty bad.

  Instead, I head to my dressing room, down a bottle of water, and kick up my feet, relaxing into a chair. Maybe after we check in to the hotel I’ll get room service. Or find a Thai place that delivers. Rent a movie and indulge in a chick flick.

  Or I could go out with the guys, if only for dinner. They almost always invite me, but normally we have to hit the road within hours so I use that time to shower and bask in joyful silence. But since we’re staying the night in Charlotte . . .

  Maybe tonight when they ask, I’ll say yes.

  Knock, knock.

  Strange. Their show isn’t over yet. I rise and open the door.

  “Miss Marx. You have a visitor,” a young guy, not even my age, wearing a security shirt says.

  Not what I’m expecting and my curiosity is piqued. “Oh, okay.” I raise my brow.

  “Bedo said to bring her to the friends and family room with the rest of the band’s guests. If you’ll follow me, I can show you the way?”

  “Sure. Yeah.” I glance around my tiny dressing room and run back to grab my cell before following the guy down the hall. “Did he tell you who it was?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I thought you were expecting her.”

  “Oh. No.” My brain races and I check my phone for messages. I’m not sure whether I know anyone who lives near Charlotte.

  He stops short and nods at the door with two other security leaning against the wall on either side.

  “Thank you,” I mutter and pull open the metal door. The instant I do, she greets me with a grin and a squeal. “Mom, what are you doing here?” I’m a little dazed.

  She pulls me into one of her bone crushing hugs. “You didn’t think I’d let my baby girl go on tour without catching a show on the road? Wow, Lex. Wow! This is just . . . I’m so proud of you.” She pulls back to rub my arms.

  A genuine smile spreads across my face. It’s rare moments that my mom surprises me in a good way. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Your dad would be proud, too.” She pats my arm again.

  Here it comes . . . “Can we just not? Not tonight.” I glance around, taking in the table of snack foods, liquor, and other beverages. Tables and chairs are strewn about.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so damn stubborn. Holding a grudge for ten years! When are you going to let it go and forgive him?”

  “Mom.” I meet her concerned stare with a pointed glare.

  “Fine! Letting it go.” She raises her hands. “For now.”

  “Thank you.” I take her hand in mine and squeeze. We walk over to the refreshments and I make her a drink—a gin and tonic, her favorite—and grab a water for myself.

  “Did you catch all of my set?”

  “I did! And I loved it. You did so good. I even watched those Three Ugly Guys, but I left early so I could sneak back here.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “So, that singer is a tall drink of water. You should lock that one down. Or any of them, really.” Her eyes light up and she melts into a sigh.

  A sigh of a different essence leaves my mouth. “Mom . . .”

  “What?” She shrugs and takes a sip from her glass. “I’m just saying if I were twenty years younger I’d hit that.”

  I roll my eyes. “Can we manage one conversation with it being not about you?”

  She rolls hers in return. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” She steps closer, a wide grin pulling at her lips. “Now, back to the sexy singer.”

  “Mom!” I shout just as Trent, Austin, Sean, Iz, and Bedo burst into the room. The band’s laughing, sweaty, and slightly intoxicated, but they all stop short when they notice the outsider. Before she can embarrass me, or more likely herself, I step forward and make introductions.

  “Everyone, this is my Mom. Mom, everyone.”

  Trent saunters past me with a wink and offers his hand, which she eagerly accepts. “Nice to finally meet the woman responsible for our Lexi.”

  She giggles. God, it’s so annoying. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”

  “Can I get you another drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Trent holds out his elbow and she latches on. He leads her to the makeshift bar.

  Austin sidles up to my side and bumps me with his shoulder. “Lexi, your mom’s a MILF.”

  “Don’t be disgusting.” My gaze follows her fingers and the way she skirts them over Trent’s arm while he mixes them each a drink. How she leans into him. Plays with the ends of her hair. God, she’s such a flirt.

  “I’m not. Just honest. She’s a fucking babe. She seeing anybody?” He grins wider at the sight of my scowl.

  “Shut your mouth and stay away from my mother.” I push away and find a seat at one of the tables where I don’t have to watch my mom or listen to Austin.

  “Aww, don’t be like that. You’re no fun, Lex,” Austin calls after me and then rushes to the door as more visitors enter the room.—all women, of course. I nurse my water bottle, taking in the scene that is the green room after party.

  Bedo works the room in record time, carving out a few minutes of face time with anyone who looks important before escaping into the hall. My mother’s giggles intrude on my people watching as familiar disappointment fills my heart. I become more and more angry each second she schmoozes with strangers while I sit alone.

  The woman from this afternoon, Cora, comes into the room at some point and steals Trent into a corner. They converse, and I have to concentrate way too hard to avert my gaze. I’m trying not to stare when Sean pulls out the chair next to me, scraping the legs against the floor as he flips it around and straddles the seat.

  “Sucks to be sober,” he says with a slight grin.

  “I’m okay with it.” I smile and tip my water against his bottle. “But why aren’t you drinking?”

  “We get an overnighter. I’m hitting the gym tonight.”

  “Really?” That surprises me, that he’d give up his free time for exercise.

  “Yeah, well, this body doesn’t happen with a six pack of beer every night.” He flexes his arms, placing one on the table. “Go ahead. Squeeze it. You know you want to.” He’s teasing and it only makes me laugh.

  “You guys going to dinner?”

  “Yeah. There’s a restaurant at the hotel. You should come. Bring your mom.”

  “Maybe.” I lift my gaze just as my mother slides into the seat across the table.

  “This is like old times,” she gushes, shaking out her long locks and then leaning forward to pat Sean’s muscular forearm. “The show was amazing tonight.”

  Sean leans back in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap when my mom doesn’t let go of his arm. “Oh. Um. Thanks, Mrs. Marx.”

  Her eyes flick to me with a hard glare before she meets his unknowing smile. “It’s not Mrs. Marx. You can just call me Lori.” She hates that I traded my last name—his name—for a stage name.

  “Lori, God damn, woman. You look the same as you did twenty-five years ago.” Iz stands at our tab
le and my mom grins in that forced way so her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I wonder if she even recognizes him.

  “Shame about Richie. Life’s a bitch sometimes.” The smile on Iz’s weathered lips fades and at that my mom pushes from the table.

  “What are you talking about?” she says in a rush.

  Iz’s eyes widen and he shakes his head with a laugh. “Oh, sorry. I just assumed you still talk. Fuck. I guess it’s true what they say about those who assume.”

  “I do. We do talk. He hasn’t mentioned anything other than their reunion tour this fall.”

  Iz runs his hands down his face and then pats around in his front pocket, retrieving a joint and lighter from his jacket. “Last I heard that was being canceled.”

  My mom’s brow pulls tighter with her frown. “What? No way. He was so excited. Who told you that?”

  “Maybe I heard wrong. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “Lexi! Sexy fuckin’ Lexi!” Trent’s shouts from the bar and waltzes over to our table, dropping down to a crouch between Sean’s chair and mine. All eyes in the room have found their way to the lead singer and for once I have no desire to be center stage. “Lexi, sexy Lexi. Fuck, that rhymes. We should write a song!”

  I glance over Trent’s head to find Sean’s eyes crinkled with unspoken laughter. I don’t hesitate with my answer. “I’ll pass.”

  “No! No, hear me out . . . We collaborate. A duet. And we can sing all about how fucking sexy you are in these . . .” Trent’s drunk. That I know. But it still doesn’t stop the gooseflesh from expanding across my skin when he trails the backs of his fingers from the tops of my boots along my fishnets to where my skirt barely covers my ass. I’m fully clothed in this room full of people, but the way his eyes rove over my body leaves me feeling utterly indecent. “Come on, you’re always writing in that notebook. We’ve got like two more months on this tour. We could do it. I know we can.” His eyes widen with excitement and Sean tries unsuccessfully to hold in his laughter.