by Kacey Shea
“Fine. Let’s up the ante.”
“What do you have in mind?” I sigh as if I don’t care, but I’m actually interested in what he’s offering.
“If you win, you go see the doctor.”
“No. If I win I get the room.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “That’s it? I expected more.”
“Swear on it.” His voice turns growly and goosebumps chase across my skin. My stomach flip flops and it’s not from the food.
“Fine. If I win, I go to the doctor and get the room. I swear. But if you win, you shave off the rest of that eyebrow. The entire thing, for the rest of the tour.”
“And I get the room.”
“Deal. Now, finish that wing before you finger it to death.”
“I’m full.” He drops it onto his plate.
“What? No!”
“I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.” His lips couldn’t pull any wider with his smile, as if he just won the jackpot. Only he didn’t. He lost.
“Fucking liar.” I don’t need his pity.
“Nope. The truth. Now, come on. We had a deal and Dr. Bailey is waiting at the bus for you.”
I grind my teeth together because this is crap. He’s letting me win. I don’t need anything handed to me. I don’t need him playing parent or protector. I’ve taken care of myself just fine on my own.
“This is bullshit,” Austin complains and I turn my chin to level him with my stare.
“I agree.”
“You can’t change the rules to Wing Challenge. You won, Lexi. Now, let’s go.” Trent’s shit-eating grin never leaves his face as he stands from the table and steps besides my chair. Waiting.
“What’d I miss?” Sean strolls up to the table looking ten times better.
Trent opens his mouth to answer but snaps it shut when I narrow my gaze in a glare.
Screw him. I shoot him one last scowl and take a swig of water before climbing off the high top chair. I stomp out of the restaurant without a second look, and leave them to pay the bill.
Not fifty feet from the restaurant, they catch up and I have to listen to Austin complain about this being a violation of their stupid decision making process. Idiots. All of them. My stomach groans and gurgles in agreement, and the sweat from before cools with the breeze. My body shakes with chills. I was stupid for even partaking in this pointless challenge after the night I had. I better not get sick. Again. Not when we have a show to play in only six hours. I wish I could hit the reset button on this entire day.
Sean catches up to me, jogging until he’s at my side. “Why so glum, Lex? You get your own room! That’s fucking awesome.”
He’s right. I should be happy with the outcome. Only I’m not. And that’s because I feel played. Cornered into a cheap win when I could have accomplished it fair and square on my own. I know I could. “How many times have you won Wing Challenge?”
“Let me count.” He holds his hands out in front and pretends to add up a multifaceted equation. He covers his mouth to cough out, “Once,” and his lips twitch up at the sides.
“That’s pitiful.” I nudge him with my shoulder.
“Pretty bad. But Austin’s never won, though he came close twice. Trent used to lose to Derek, but since he quit the band . . .”
“Trent always wins,” I finish for him, the words sour on my lips.
“Until you, you badass mother trucker.” When I don’t smile at his joke he wraps his arm around me and pulls me so I’m tucked into his side. “Come on, Lex. A win’s, a win. You should be rubbing it in his face.”
Maybe that’s why I’m so angry. Because I can’t tease Trent the way I would have if I’d won for real. My irritation has nothing to do with my inability to take help from others. Nope. Not one bit.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Sean murmurs so only I can hear. Trent and Austin follow behind, but they lag enough I can’t make out what they’re saying.
“Sure. I’ll bite.” I have a feeling whatever he’ll say next is supposed to make me feel better.
He tightens his hold around my shoulders so we’re touching sides, then hunches lower so his head tilts to mine. “This.” He squeezes my shoulder with a wink. “Is totally pissing Trent off.” He laughs, a low throaty chuckle, and my own lips soften the scowl. For some reason that does make me feel slightly better.
“You guys love giving each other shit, don’t you?”
“But of course. It’s in the bandmate guidebook.”
“Happy I could help.” I roll my eyes.
“Better run before I shit my pants.” Sean drops a peck of a kiss on my cheek and jogs off toward the buses. I keep my laughter to myself, and take the longest strides my shorter legs can manage. Sean’s insight and kindness, however idiotic, leave me feeling marginally better, but I need to hustle if I’m to meet with a doctor before sound checks.
The bus comes into view after a few more minutes of walking, and my phone vibrates from my back pocket. I know exactly who it is, even without checking—she always calls at the worst moments. I glance to the side and catch Trent’s curious stare. He opens his mouth to speak and I reach for my cell and say hello before he can get out more than “I just—”
“Happy birthday, Lexi!”
“Oh, God. Not this again.” I cringe because I know the singing is coming next. “Mom, it’s not my birthday.”
“It is! You know we celebrate it all month long.”
“When I was five. Mom, I’m almost twenty-four. Can we at least move to a week-long celebration?”
“Would it be so bad to let me have my way?”
“Yes. It really would.” We reach the bus and Trent catches my attention to mouth the word doctor and point to the bus. “Hey, Mom. I have to run. I’ve got some things to take care of before the show tonight.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t want to upset you, but I went to see your father yesterday.” She says the words as if I care. She’s perpetually oblivious to the fact I don’t want a relationship with him. I get that she still loves him—some sick and twisted obsession I’ll never respect—but I gave up the fight. I just don’t get how she thinks I’ll change my mind.
The rest of the band climbs inside the bus, but Trent stands outside the door, miming some kind of replay of the entire wing challenge and maybe a naughty doctor. A giggle escapes my lips before I can fight it and he motions me to wrap things up.
“Mom. Let’s not fight. I really need to go.”
Her voice is unusually hard and demanding. It takes me by surprise. “He’s dying, Lexi. He wants his daughter. You want to hate him, fine. But he needs you and time is running out. I know there’s a soul under all that black somewhere.”
Anger boils with her accusation and demands. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before giving in to my temper. How dare she? I don’t owe him anything. “Bye, Mom.” I grind the words past my lips and end the call before I tell her to fuck off.
I try, I really do, to be respectful of the person she is, even though we are so different. All I want is for her to do the same. My expectations, however low, are still too high, and I’m left with familiar disappointment. I’m on my own. It’s simply how it is. But I’m strong enough to take care of myself.
“Finally.” Trent’s smile kicks up as I stomp toward him. “Doctor’s inside.”
He’s trying to be friendly. Nice. But his consideration is only salt to the wound my mother just split open. “Fuck you.” I respond the best way I know, expecting that will be enough to push him away, at least for a few hours.
Of course, he smiles wider. “With pleasure, my lady.”
So damn frustrating.
21
Trent
We play a packed show in Baltimore. The crowd screams, cheers, and brings out the best performance we’ve had so far this tour. When we finally make our way offstage after a second encore, we’re all soaked in sweat, both from the stage lights and the beast of a show we put in t
he books.
The compliments and congrats the crew offer on the way to our green room bolster my already soaring confidence.
Bedo’s inside waiting to greet us, his eyes trained on the cell phone that might as well be glued to his fingers. The thick rope of his gold chain glints with the illumination from the ceiling fluorescents. It rests against his white collared button down while his maroon corduroy pants bounce with a nervous beat. Bedo doesn’t travel with us on the bus, but he makes it to almost every performance. After a show like tonight he should be beaming with pride, with dollar signs in his eyes, because we rocked that packed arena. But the pinch of his lips gives me a suspicion this visit is going down like a trip to the principal’s office. My mind runs through the possible infractions but comes up blank . . . Unless he discovered the reason behind our fresh eyebrow stylings.
Shit. I don’t think he’d appreciate the humor in our panty burglar escapades.
“I’m sure you can guess why I’m here, and while I can’t say I’m not surprised. I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me. As your manager I deserve honesty. Forthrightness. It’s the only way I stay ahead of these stories.”
I glance over to Sean and Austin, but they appear as lost as I am. Iz pulls a vape—the one Lexi got him—from his pocket and clicks it on, his inhale and exhale the only sounds in the room.
“Really? No one has anything to say?” Bedo sets his phone down. Oh, shit. That thing is an extra appendage. He’s not fucking around. I don’t know what he wants from us, though. So we pulled a prank? It’s not like we’re gonna rat each other out or blame it on one person.
Sean pulls his arms across his chest and flexes his arms. He’s a blockade. No one can break him.
But when my stare flicks to Austin, I realize we’re screwed. Sweat drips from his hairline, down his forehead, and the eyebrows Lexi helped reconstruct with a brown makeup pencil are starting to blur. He runs the back of his arm across his forehead, taking with it his perspiration and most of the eyebrow paint.
Bedo’s stare lands on Austin. “What in the fuck happened to your face?”
That’s all it takes for Austin to turn into Mr. Loose Lips. “It was the panties! Okay? It was the goddamn panties! Haven’t we suffered enough? We don’t need a verbal lashing from you, too! Look at me, man.” He scrubs his palms over his face and the rest of the makeup wipes clear. “I have no fucking eyebrows!”
Bedo blinks. That’s all he does. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t react in any other way and I wonder if Three Ugly Guys is just too much for one person to take. We aren’t the first band Bedo’s worked with; he’s been in the biz for thirty plus years. But maybe at some point there’s a limit for all the stupid shit one person can endure.
None of us speak as Bedo gathers his thoughts—or sanity, more likely—and it’s uncomfortably quiet with the click click whoosh of Iz’s vape the only background noise.
“One. I’m going to ignore the panty comment. I don’t even want to know what depravity that involves. Two. The lack of eyebrows? When you’re in public put on a damn hat.” He snaps the last part at Austin. “Now, what I came here for, and what I want to know, is why no one informed me that Sean and Lexi are dating.”
No fucking way. The green eyed monster within my mind rears its ugly head and I grip the couch cushion so I don’t leap across the room to punch Sean in the face. Him? Her? How? Why? When? It can’t be.
She should be with me.
Nervous laughter leaves Sean’s mouth and he rubs the knees of his jeans. All eyes are on him, and it’s not only Bedo staring at the man in the hot seat.
“We had a promise. No one fucks her.” I sound like a bitter loser, but I can’t seem to control the betrayal and disappointment that take over my thoughts.
“Dude.” Sean looks around, meets each of our stares, lands on me last. “Really? There’s nothing going on with me and Lex. If anyone one has been crossing that line, it’s you.”
Relief settles the coils of my muscles. I didn’t realize even my fists were clenched. “Sorry, Sean.” I mutter my apology, and Bedo’s pinched glare is now trained on me. Fuck.
He shakes his head and lifts his gaze to the ceiling as if it contains more answers. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He shakes his head again and picks up his phone. “Well, the press is having a heyday with these photos.” He tosses the device to Sean.
Austin leans to the left to peer over his shoulder. “Fuck, look at you. Young and in love. When’s the wedding?” he teases and Sean shoves him back.
“Let me see,” I say and Sean tosses the phone to me. Crap. There it is. If I wasn’t a witness, I wouldn’t believe Sean. The way his head leans down to hers and they’re both smiling. Someone snapped these on our way back from the wing challenge, not far from the stadium.
“If this is nothing, that’s fine. But if it’s something, we need to prepare for damage control when you two inevitably break up. But we can use this to our advantage. Hype up ticket sales for the remaining tour dates. Budding romance between two young rock stars. It’s a story everyone loves.”
I hate it. And I hate the way Bedo talks about Lexi as if she’s some sort of prop. We sell out shows on our own.
“But we’re not a couple. We were just talking. I think I told her I had to shit. That’s why she’s laughing.” Sean nods to the phone still clenched in my fingers. Damn it. I hate these photos more than I should. My subconscious unleashes my vexation on the poor phone. Returning the cell to Bedo like a game of hot potato gone wrong, I attempt to get a handle on my feelings.
“I’m just saying if it were, it wouldn’t be the worst. Especially when they connect who she is.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to say anything about that,” Austin says.
“You aren’t.” Bedo stands and just like that he’s done here. “And since you fuckers played two encores tonight and Austin decided to make love to his Fender during every one of his solos, you four only have . . .” He glances at his phone. “One hour until the bus leaves. I’ll have dinner delivered.”
“What? We can’t go out? Who are you, our mother?” Austin complains, but my eyes stay on Bedo. Something in his dismissive attitude rubs me wrong. The guys continue to bitch and whine about the lack of celebration tonight, but when Bedo leaves the room, I follow.
“Hey, Bedo, wait up!” I call out before he turns a second corner and I lose him in the bustle of roadies already tearing down, packing up for the next show.
His eyes snap up from his phone screen and his lips pinch. “Don’t try to persuade me. You’re not going out tonight.”
“No. Not that.” And it’s not. What I want to ask is far more uncomfortable because of the doubt that seeps out along with the question. I’ve never not trusted Bedo, that he’s got our best interests at heart or that he’s on our side, and I’m almost certain he’s not gonna like what I have to say.
“What? Spit it out, Trent. I have a ton of work and an early flight to catch.”
“You aren’t going to say anything to the press, are you?”
His brow gathers and lips lift in a trace of a smile. “About Lexi and Sean?” He tilts his head as if he’s trying to uncover more than the answer with his stare.
“No. Not that.” I shake my head, my hair falling into my eyes until I brush it back. Even though the idea doesn’t sit well, I know it was false. My concerns run deeper than a little celebrity romance gossip. I peer around and drop my voice. It’s not crowded per se, but I don’t need some roadie or security guard to overhear. “About her father, and who he is?”
Bedo’s eyes widen and his smile leaves his face. “You know legally I can’t.”
I don’t like how offhand he is. How he leaves himself just enough of a loophole. Like we both don’t realize how easy it is to leak a rumor to the press. As if they won’t have a feeding frenzy with the truth. I’m overcome with a desire to protect her. To keep her secret safe.
“Don’t.” The word leaves my mouth i
n a growl. “If it hits the press, you’re fired.”
Bedo straightens his spine, and an offended scoff escapes his mouth. “Anyone can discover that information, Trent. It’s public knowledge. The right person recognizes her or puts two and two together—that’s all it takes. I can’t control it.”
Most of what he says is true, sure, but again I’m left with the certainty that Bedo’s not being one hundred percent transparent. The feeling’s not based on fact or experience; just my gut. I take a step closer because I tower over him and I can be intimidating when I need to be. Besides, Bedo might be our manager, but ultimately he works for the band and myself, and if he does anything to hurt Lexi I won’t have a problem cutting him loose.
“Come on, Bedo. You’re the best in the biz.” My lips pull into a wide smile that doesn’t show my teeth and I raise my brow. “Do your thing. Make your magic happen. And make damn sure no one talks about Lexi’s father. You can do it. I have faith in you.” I clasp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze too tight.
Bedo’s jaw works back and forth until he responds with a winning smile. “Of course, Trent. Consider it done.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” For good measure I give him a pat on the back that might leave a mark. “See you in Philly?”
He steps back, out of my reach. “Yeah. And I’ve got radio spots lined up in the afternoon. It’s a tight schedule before you play The Mann, so be ready to work the crowd.”
I walk backwards a few steps and slap my chest with a wink. “I’m always ready, baby. That’s why you love me!” He grumbles something under his breath, but I don’t stick around to find out what. I’ve got to grab the guys and get on the bus. The extra pep in my step has nothing to do with the blonde pixie who’s already on board and waiting. Most likely decked out in a big sweatshirt and shorty shorts that bring all the attention to those strong, shapely legs. Legs I imagine wrapped around my waist. Or my head. Nope. That’s not the reason I jog the rest of the way. Not at all.