“No I want to be here with you, I mean the band. I want to be on the road with the band; I just didn’t think applying for a PA position entitled me to travel with one of the hottest rock bands on the market right now.” I knew my face had taken on a fantastic shade of red as I quickly looked back out the window and mentally cursed my betraying body.
“So you think we are one of the hottest bands right now,” Reid taunted, licking his lips slowly and methodically. He knew what he was doing, how the smallest of movements could send a woman into a working tizzy.
I rolled my eyes and fought back the urge to tackle that man. Even his cockiness at times was sexy, considering I wanted to beat him the other fifty percent of the time.
“Look, you guys know you are good, otherwise you wouldn’t be selling gazillion of albums, and partaking in this massive tour. Of course I think you are good; I’m not deaf you know.”
Reid mumbled something and let a smirk creep across his face. The sexiness was gone; all I wanted to do was smack this man across his smug little face right now. It was crazy how fast he could flip a switch with me, and the little bastard knew exactly how to do it.
“My intention wasn’t to make you mad, Molly Anne,” Reid apologized, leaning forward and resting his forearms against his thighs.
I let out a small sigh then just shook my head. This man pushed buttons I didn’t even think were possible.
“That’s the second time you called me Molly Anne,” I said softly.
“Well that’s your name, right? You have this southern charm that radiates out of you. Molly is too simple for a girl like you.”
“Like me?” I questioned.
“There is something very innocent about the way you conduct yourself. I don’t see that much anymore.” Reid gave me a soft smile that melted my heart on the spot. Apparently beating myself into submission wasn’t going to work so well.
“Goodnight, Molly Anne.” Reid nodded.
“Goodnight, Reid.”
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up!” Brody shouted, jumping next to me on the couch. Groaning, I slowly opened my eyes, letting the light poison my irises.
“Coffee?” Ryder asked, standing over in the galley next to a Keurig.
“Please,” my voice rumbles. Sitting up, I stretched my body from the apparently awkward position I crashed in.
“Sugar or cream?”
“Black, just black.” I sighed, running my hands through my hair to try and tame it into some sort of obedience. Pulling the sweatshirt over my head, I felt a rush of the morning air swarm around my skin.
“Look at Molly and her little girly little piercing,” Brody teased, reaching out and swiping his finger over my dangling belly button ring.
Note to self, remember to wear longer shirts around these guys.
“I was going to say something witty and funny when you said black, but then got distracted by you pulling off your sweatshirt and shit,” Ryder confessed, handing the cup of hot goodness over.
“You guys are ridiculous.”
“Be thankful we like ya. Normally, women don’t make it past the first town we come to on the drive. We might actually let you hang with us for a little while.” Tysen laughed, flopping himself on the other couch.
“That and you seem to irritate Reid for some reason. Shit, that’s totally worth sharing a bus with a girl,” Ryder snorted.
“Well I won’t be invading your space again, boys. I have my own bunk on the other bus. Had you all been on time last night, I would have been able to sleep there.” I rolled my eyes and sank back into the couch, sipping on the liquid gold in my cup.
“Sure, I see the way you look at Reid. You want a piece of his beef stick, don’t try and deny it,” Brody laughed.
Coffee sprang from my mouth as I tried not to choke on the remainder that slid down my throat.
Ryder Smirked, “busted.”
“Next thing you know there will be bobby pins in the bathroom and healthy shit in the fridge. It’s only a matter of time,” Brody joked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.
“You are all nuts, you know that?” I comment, wiping the coffee up from my chin.
“Yeah, well, you’ll get use to us. We are one big dysfunctional family,” Ryder added.
“Dysfunctional? Please, player, my shit is always working,” Brody stated suggestively.
“Of course it is, buddy, as long as you continue to take your medication,” I commented back, patting the top of his thigh.
Brody scrunched his face and gave the middle finger to the guys. This was the perfect little dysfunctional family I always wanted.
I tried to straighten out my appearance the best I possibly could with no supplies, or clothes for that fact, but in the end I still looked like a hot mess. My hair was only partially straight and most of the makeup I had on yesterday was smudged underneath my eyes. I knew once we got to the venue Stephanie would be waiting for me to do her errands and such, but hopefully I could sneak away for a few minutes to change my clothes and pull myself together.
“Hey, we are pulling into the arena,” Reid’s voice came through the thin bathroom door.
“Oh okay,” I mumbled, sliding open the door. Reid’s eyes raked up and down over my body, stopping suddenly at my bare midriff. I have always been confident of my body. Even with my itty bitties, I knew I looked good. But for some reason, once again this man made me want to slam the bathroom door and stay hidden until everyone exited this bus.
“I’ve got to get my shoes…………”
“Yeah, sorry,” Reid’s voice came suddenly as he stepped back in the small hallway.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I scampered to the front of the bus, fighting the urge to turn around and look at the man behind me.
“Looks like some fine pickings tonight, boys,” Brody purred, drooling at the sight of women surrounding the arena.
“Pig,” I muttered,
“Nothing wrong with a little roll in the mud, darling.”
“Seriously, Brody? That is so disgusting.”
“Oink, oink.”
Rolling my eyes, I braced my hands onto the counter as we pulled into the parking lot. The bus shifted as we went over a speed bump, causing my uncoordinated body to flail about. Suddenly, a pair of arms were wrapped around my waist, steading me on my feet.
“Hey, I got you,” Reid’s voice whispered behind me.
“And I thought chivalry was dead,” I replied quietly.
Reid let out a small laugh and released the hold around my waist, instantly sending a cold chill down my spine. Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled at the man standing next to me.
With his free hands, Reid smacked my ass and let a grin spread across his lips. “Oh it’s dead Molly Anne, but for some reason when I’m with you, something makes me want to resurrect it.”
Something had to give between us, or I might self-combust from sheer adulterous lust.
I hurried the boys off the bus and into the arena, and then scampered over to the other bus, desperate for a change of clothes and my toothbrush. Punching in the code to get onto the bus, I hurried over to my bunk and tore through a small bag I left there last night. Thankfully, I put a clean pair of jeans and a simple black tank top in the bag, as I refused to walk around tonight in my black skinnies and a crop top. I wasn’t a groupie and didn’t want anyone to confuse me with those sluts.
Swiftly, I plastered another layer of makeup on my face and raked the toothbrush over my teeth for a few minutes. There wasn’t much I could do for my already wrecked hair, thus throwing it up into a short stubby ponytail was my only option; placing a few bobby pins on the sides to keep some of the shorter pieces back.
Apparently I didn’t pack any clean socks. Refusing to put on last night’s again, I grabbed my black flip flops from my bag and raced out the door. Looking at my cell, I realized it only took ten minutes to make myself somewhat presentable. Hopefully, Stephanie wouldn’t be looking for me yet.
Flashing
my badge to get in backstage, I wandered the hallway looking for Stephanie. It was still shocking to see how many people it took to put on this show, not to mention how they managed to pull it off night after night on this level.
“Hey Tiny, have you seen Stephanie?” I yelled down the hallway.
“Yeah, she is in with Political Downfall,” he hollered back, pointing to a closed door down the way a little bit.
“Thanks,” I waved back and headed for the door. I was about to reach for the handle, when the door suddenly flew open.
“Where have you been? I have to deal with a couple things; can you handle the situation in there?” Stephanie questioned, still holding her cell phone up to her ear. I could tell she was irritated; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize this woman’s mood swings.
“Uh……….sure?”
Stephanie waved me off and stormed down the hallway, shouting at the pour soul on the other end of the line. She was the type of woman you didn’t cross, and if for some reason you ended up on her bad side, you basically sold what remaining parts of your already blackened soul to the devil to get out of it.
Sticking my head in the door was like walking into the gates of hell. Shouting, screaming, and I think that was a beer bottle that just flew across the room. This is going to blow balls.
“Hey,” I shouted loudly into the room, hoping to get the attention of the pissed off and testosterone filled man children flailing about. The four man band didn’t even acknowledge my presence as they continued to throw the obvious temper tantrum happening.
“HEY,” I shouter louder, finally catching the eyes of one of the guys. My stomach plummeted when his steel grey eyes pierced into mine. For a moment the room stood quiet, not a single sound registered in my ears. This man held my attention with just a glance, holy mother of pearls. My mind went blank, and my mouth dropped open. I already had to fight my urges for Reid; what were the odds it would happen again? Apparently I was on a lucky streak, if one considered lusting after two different men lucky.
Chapter 8: I need my own damn whistle.
The grey eyed man broke the stare and it instantly snapped me out of the daze he had created. Right back into the yelling and screaming.
“SHUT THE HELL UP!” I had enough of their bickering. I had no clue who any of these guys were, other than they all belonged to the band Political Downfall, and if I didn’t get them to stop they would no longer be the opening act for Black Laden. “Seriously, what in the world are you guys fighting like little girls about?”
“Who in the hell are you?” A tall, scrawny emo looking guy glared at me.
“Does it matter?” I said, squaring off my shoulders as I stood my ground. These men need to figure it out, and I have no intention to play referee for them.
“Well then you can walk your happy little ass right out the door there, Sweetie; buh-bye now,” the man seethed, narrowing his eyes and motioning with his hands for me to leave.
“First, I’m not leaving. Second, I work for Stephanie. And third, you guys are going on in a couple hours, what in the hell is going on?” I slowly took a couple steps further into the room, noticing the thick tension still evident in the air.
“Sorry, the guys are just having an argument over the set list,” the grey eyed man said, offering up a lopsided smile.
Pretty sure my panties would have been wet, had I worn any today.
“Alright, well what can I do to help?”
“You can do nothing, and neither can Chance. We stick to the same line up since day one,” a tall blonde on the other side of emo kid spoke, not taking his eyes off the shaved head of the man across from him.
From what I gathered in the few seconds I had been in the room, they were all pansy ass little babies that needed a hard spanking. Now, I wouldn’t mind dishing one out to the grey eyed one, but the others could suck it.
“Did you guys ask Stephanie, I’m sure this could all be solved real quick with a phone call……………..” I muttered, reaching for my cell out of my back pocket.
“That’s the problem; she said we need to figure it out,” emo kid barked, rolling his eyes at me.
I was starting to get annoyed with these guys, I mean come on. How hard could this fricken’ be?
“Well, how about we start with introductions. Hi, I’m Molly,” I mention, offering a smile to the tense crowd.
“Chance,” the buzzed head man said, while shoving his hands into his jeans.
“I’m Eric, and that’s Jeremy,” the tall blonde spoke, nodding his head at emo kid.
“And I’m Brantley; nice to meet you, Molly,” grey eyes chimed in, reaching his hand out for me to shake.
I shot my left hand out and quickly realized that wouldn’t work, stupid girl. Extending my right hand out, I muttered “sorry” and let our skin make the connection. His hands were warm to the touch; soft palms, yet I knew he played guitar. The skin on his fingertips was thick and calloused over, an obvious indication on what instrument he used.
His grip tightens around my small hand, and for a second I hoped he would pull me in and make use of my lips. But once again, this is a job. My ‘dream job’; remember that Molly.
“Alright, well now that we have that behind us let’s figure this shit out.” Regretfully, I pulled my hand back from his and headed over for an unoccupied stool. I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks, making my lust very apparent for everyone in the room.
“So, what can we do to make this work? Correct me if I’m wrong, but Chance wants to change the lineup and the rest of you don’t want to?” I questioned, desperately trying not to look at Brantley.
“It’s just the same thing over and over. I don’t see why we can’t just rearrange some of the songs; you know, liven it up,” Chance interjects, taking a seat next to the hottie with the grey eyes.
My insides squirms when I catch his eyes; calm down there hussy.
“We don’t have room for screw ups, Man; we change the lineup and someone is bound is fuck up,” Jeremy growled, the tension in his voice obvious.
“So, I doubt this is going to be solved today. Considering you all have a different opinion, and everyone is on edge, how about you stick to the same song rotation tonight, and then we can go at it tomorrow with fresh minds?” I didn’t know if this was going to work, but something had to break between these stupid boys.
“Hey guys, let’s just shelve it for right now,” Brantley spoke up, offering me that lop sided smile again.
“Whatever, Man,” one of the others mumbled. I had no clue who said it, and really didn’t care. I was once again lost in the sheer hotness of Brantley.
“I guess we better head out for sound check.” Brantley ran a hand through his short black hair, letting me catch a peek at his toned stomach when his shirt rode up.
Suddenly the top of my toes got stuck at the bottom of the bar stool, sending me crashing to the floor swiftly. “Oomph,” I let out when my body smashed into the concrete.
The impact from the fall almost took my breath away, but the coolness from the concrete snapped me back from the immediate pain. There was going to be bruises after this accident, and most of it would appear on the right side of my face, because apparently my hands refused to help brace the fall. Once again, I proved what an absolute klutz I am. I couldn’t even sit on a stool without somehow turning it into a disaster.
Smooth Molly, real smooth.
I’ve never been one to be really coordinated. Even all the etiquette classes, dance classes, and even pageants my mother forced me into when I was younger did nothing for me. It was like patting your head and rubbing your belly, something that took thought and skill, and I lacked in it big time. If I could trip over it, get stuck in it, walk into it, or tear it, I totally would. Nothing like trying to be a lady growing up and falling face first off a stage on a consistent basis.
“Are you okay, Molly?” Brantley gushed, offering his hand to my flattened position on the floor.
I laugh, tryi
ng to shake off the embarrassment. “Yep, just one of my many charms.” One would think I would be used to it, considering I made an ass out of myself daily. However, the redness returned to my face as I took Brantley’s hand. I am ridiculous.
“Way to change the subject, Molly,” Chance laughed while picking up the stool.
“Yep, call me Miss Graceful.” Now was the time I needed to make a quick exit. The boys were no longer fighting, and I had already made a complete ass of myself falling off the stool. My body screamed ‘run out the door Molly’, but my mind reminded me that I would probably end up on my face again.
“I, uh……..well, I’m sure Stephanie has something for me to do,” I muttered, pulling my hand out of Brantley’s. Keeping my eyes locked on the door, I refused to look back at the man. I might have done something stupid, like offer myself up for his enjoyment tonight. For some reason being in Seattle has made me extremely horny. Either that or it’s all these male rock stars. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl parts and their own stupid desires.
“See you later, Molly,” one of the guys called out and I dashed through the door. I offered a wave without even glancing back. I couldn’t do that to my body; at least my mind had the right idea for a change.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to need therapy. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t do something absolutely embarrassing, and doing it with a bunch of hot men in the room was just the icing on the cake. The therapist I saw when I was younger classified me as clinically depressed and prescribed these wicked pills that made me lay there like a bump on a log. Now, I’m no expert in medicine, but shouldn’t anti-depressants do the exact opposite. Anyhow, after about a week of doing nothing but listen to horrible music and sulking in my room, I flushed the prescription and refused to see a shrink again. One is ‘mental’ if they prefer black clothing and would rather spend time alone in my room with Simon, than socialize with crazy girls my age. Some might call me a loner; I called myself creative.
Hot Southern Mess (Hide Your Crazy) Page 6