Cross

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Cross Page 3

by Heather Young-Nichols


  “What the fuck did you do?” Lawson asked, glaring at Drink.

  “Hey, man… ” Drink put his hands up in front of him defensively. “I didn’t know she was Vince’s daughter.”

  “Shouldn’t fucking matter.”

  “He said something about her being a medic and told her he’d like to dig in her hole,” I told him because I wasn’t covering for Drink and Lawson had to know where his attention was most needed. This tour was big for him as well.

  “You don’t treat women like that, asshole.”

  “Won’t happen again,” Drink said, sounding annoyed.

  Not sure any of us believed him.

  We pulled up in front of this little Chinese restaurant. The kind that most people would pass on as the best place to get food poisoning. However, traveling the country, you quickly learned that these were some of the best places to eat.

  Good food, cheap, and no fans.

  Inside, the place was empty with the exception of a line of square tables that had been pushed together in the middle of the room. Moments later, as the five of us just stood there because we didn’t know what else to do, Vince and company loudly burst through the door. They were already laughing and Cody, their drummer, had his arm dangling around Indie’s neck.

  I wished I hadn’t noticed that. Not because I thought they were together. Cody was married and seemed pretty happy about that. But I shouldn’t have been noticing anything that had to do with Indie Cinderstone.

  After some greetings and small talk, Vince said he was starving, so we situated around the tables to eat. I wanted to be as far away from Indie as I could be. So, of course, she took the chair directly across from me. Damn. I thought she would’ve sat closer to her dad.

  “Oh, guys,” Vince said across the table, “everyone who's been with us a while knows this, but this is my daughter, Indie.”

  She gave a little wave but honestly looked a bit uncomfortable with the attention.

  “She comes on tour with us every summer and is a fantastic photographer,” Vince said, then looked at me. “Just want to make that clear. Wouldn’t want her to get kicked out or anything.”

  Fuck. She’d told him.

  Indie snorted across from me. At least she had the decency to try to cover her laugh with her hand. The table wasn’t wide enough for my tastes. I would’ve liked more distance from Indie because she was cute. Girl next door even. She’d pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail since I’d seen her in the venue. Which I also shouldn’t have noticed, but if I’d have met her anywhere else in any other way, I would’ve asked her out.

  Which was the entire problem.

  For now, she was absolutely off-limits.

  Yet I was particularly aware of every person she spoke to and each bite of food she took. I even noticed when she pushed her plate away, folded her arms, and laughed at something someone beside her said.

  And then she dropped into the empty seat beside me.

  When I glanced around, I began to wonder how long I’d been sitting there thinking about her and the date that could never happen. Must’ve been longer than I’d ever admit because people were still snacking on the food left on the table, but some were sitting, others standing. I heard Lawson talking to Garret, Kissing Cinders’ tour manager, about some of the stops coming up.

  “Don’t worry about my dad,” Indie said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saw him looking at you earlier when he was talking about misunderstandings.”

  “You told him about that?”

  “Yeah. But in my defense, I tell my dad just about everything and I didn’t know you were… well, you. I thought you were a venue guy.”

  I smiled. Kind of refreshing for someone not to recognize me. Damn, I liked the sound of her voice.

  “Not a fan then?” I sat back and turned a little her way.

  She gave me a small smile. “My college radio station plays you a lot and I usually look up the openers before I leave, but I was really busy with finals.” Indie wet her lips with her tongue.

  I dropped my gaze to watch her do it, then looked back up. She raised an eyebrow. Damn. She noticed everything.

  “But really, Dad’s just harassing you,” she said, giving me a pass on watching her so intently.

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “He told me to be nice to you before we got here. He just likes things to run smoothly when I'm touring with you guys. Like he’s afraid I’ll stop coming or something. And since this is the most time we get to spend together… ” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Anyway, don’t take him too seriously.”

  “Was your dad around when you were little?” The words came out of my mouth before I thought to stop them. I suddenly wanted to know everything about Indie, but it would’ve been safer to keep my distance. Still, every few seconds I glanced toward Vince to see if he noticed us talking. Which was ridiculous. We were both grown and could have a conversation. “I just meant it must’ve been hard with his schedule.”

  “He was,” she answered, glancing around the room the same way I had. “But he toured a lot. Basically, he was doing what you are right now. They were a little bigger already when I came around, but he came to see me as much as he could. That’s why I started coming on tour when I was little. More time together.”

  “Your parents weren’t married?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  “No. Mom was a summer intern with the rock magazine, Thunder Gods. They were doing a big spread on Kissing Cinder. She traveled with the reporter working the story, met Dad, and things I don’t want to think about happened from there.”

  I chuckled a little loudly and scanned the room again. Nobody seemed to notice us talking. Except Drink. Our eyes locked and I wanted to punch that fucking smirk off his ugly face.

  “They were a thing for a few months, and when Mom went back to school, she found out she was pregnant with me. They didn’t stay together, but he’s always been there. Always been my dad.”

  She stood, then pushed the chair back in under the table. I did the same, as somehow I became the only person still sitting. When I pulled out my phone to check the time, I knew we all needed to get going for soundcheck.

  “Do your parents hate you?” she asked.

  I chuckled again. Such an odd question. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Cross Rhodes.” Indie folded her arms under her breasts and I had to look away to keep from noticing too much. “That had to be on purpose, right?”

  “My mom thinks she’s funny.”

  “I might love your mom.”

  My chest tightened. This was already more time than I should’ve spent with her and here she had a personality as attractive as her physical appearance.

  “Uh-oh,” she continued when I didn’t say anything back. “Looks like your coach is about to turn into a pumpkin.”

  No clue what that meant. I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my brows.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “You have to get back for the soundcheck.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I let her walk away first. Once she was through the door of the restaurant, I headed for the door. Indie gave me a quick wave before climbing into their car.

  I needed to avoid this girl at all costs.

  Chapter Five

  Indie

  The guys from both bands scattered like rats on a ship when we got back to the arena. It didn’t bother me. I knew they had things to do before the show tonight. Soon soundcheck raged in the background as I slipped out to my bus to change clothes.

  I’d been in the same shorts and T-shirt since before the sun had come up and honestly, I wanted to shower now instead of later. Later my bus might be busy and loud, depending on where the guys land and where Dad was staying. Or it could be moving. It was possible that showering in the venue would’ve been smarter with better water pressure, but the bus offered privacy.

  It didn’
t take me long to get clean and dressed in some fresh clothing: a skirt and tank top with sandals. Then I headed back into the venue. I really wanted to see Dad and the guys before they went on.

  By the sound of the crowd and the music as I stepped into the arena, Courting Chaos was already on stage. That was good. I could avoid them. But if the opening act was on stage, Dad would be in the dressing room.

  “Hey, Manny,” I said as I passed Kissing Cinder’s lead singer.

  “How’s it going so far?” he asked as he stopped in front of me.

  “Great. Tired. Had an early flight. You ready to go on?”

  “Oh, honey,” he said putting his hands on his hips, “I’m always ready. But Vince is in the dressing room if you’re looking for him. I’ll be right back.”

  “See ya.” I gave him a quick wave.

  I took the next right and almost ran right into a cluster of girls, their voices a combination of chatter and giggle. It was difficult to make out what they were saying, though I did hear one high-pitched comment. Something about “fucking Courting Chaos.” I wondered if she meant the whole band, as in they’d run a train on her, or if there was a particular one she had her eye on.

  I shouldn’t have cared which.

  Then I mentally kicked myself because even though Cross and I had had a rough meeting, we’d talked a little at lunch. Cross absolutely didn’t seem like man-whore rocker stereotype. I’d seen it before.

  There was more than one type after all. There were the ones who fucked anything that got near them. Pretty literally. Then you also had the ones who brought their families on tour. You had ones like my dad who were somewhere in between. I knew he hooked up with women on tour, even though I wished not to know that. But when he had a girlfriend, or a wife, he was as loyal as they come. Obviously, he brought family on the road. I’d spent my summers with him every year since I’d been eight and as the only kid back then, I had a nanny to myself until I was fourteen and convinced Dad I didn’t need one anymore.

  Cross seemed like he’d be closer to my dad’s type. One thing I tried not to do was judge those young women. They were free to do what they liked, but as I looked back at them again, I realized how young they looked. Given how gross some of the roadies, venue workers, even sometimes the bands, could be backstage, I really hoped they knew what they were doing and wouldn’t be taken advantage of.

  Man, I really hoped the one on the right only looked fifteen.

  I rapped my fist against the Dad’s dressing room door three times before cracking it open.

  “Everybody decent?” I called in.

  “No one’s ever decent,” Dad called back.

  So I pushed all the way in and closed the door behind me. “I mostly meant decent enough so I wouldn’t see anything that’ll scar me for life.”

  Dad chuckled, then leaned over to grab a bottle of water. This was pre-show hydration. They had a system.

  “Water?” he asked.

  I shook my head. Instead, I wanted to ask him about something that I’d considered while in the shower. Dating Cross wasn’t something I’d seriously ever think would happen, but being attracted to him at lunch made me curious as to how Dad would react if I dated a musician. And honestly, it was probably only a matter of time before I did date a guy in a band. Kind of seemed inevitable.

  “How freaked out would you be if I dated someone in a band?” I asked.

  Dad froze with his water bottle against his lips, then slowly lowered it. “How big of a band?” He gave me that Dad appraisal as he spoke. Like he was trying to figure out who I was talking about, though I wasn’t referring to anyone specific. Or at least I’d keep telling myself that.

  “Not as big as yours.”

  “Ugh.” He scrubbed a hand up and down his face. “Indie, can’t you find a doctor or something?”

  I gave him a big smile. “They say girls look for men like their father. But really, I’m just asking. No one specific. Let’s call it curiosity.”

  He leaned over and clutched his stomach. “I think lunch is come back to haunt me.”

  “Stop it.” I gave his leg a kick.

  He stood back up and took another long drink of his water, buying himself a little time as I continued to stare at him. “So, a guitar player?”

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The politics among the guys in a band were hilarious. The idea that your personality determined which instrument you played always cracked me up. Not to mention the way they each thought they were more together than the other. And since I was doing this out of curiosity only, I’d use Cross as the example.

  “Let’s say drummer.”

  He groaned and dropped on the couch next to me. I slid away from him a little and turned, folding one leg onto the couch while leaving the other foot on the floor, just to be able to watch him while we talked.

  “A drummer? Are you insane? Drummers are the worst.”

  I cocked my head to the side and tried not to laugh.

  “Drummers are assholes,” he continued.

  “I resent that.” Cody surprised me by coming out of the shower area. Thank goodness he had pants on, but he was shirtless as he used a towel to dry his hair. For someone who was old enough to be my father, he was in really good shape. They all were. “Drummers keep the band straight,” he said ticking items off with his fingers. “And are basically the boss of everyone. Obviously, they’re the best musicians out of the group.”

  Dad snorted. “You wish.”

  “So why are we disparaging drummers?” Cody asked.

  “Indie is thinking about dating one,” Dad said like I wasn’t even in the room anymore.

  A silent conversation passed between the two of them. They’d done this since I was little and knowing each other as well as they did, I was convinced they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

  I had something similar with my best friends, Maggie and Bellamy. Maggie I met in high school and Bellamy was our roommate when we got to college. Best roommate matchup ever.

  “Drummers are assholes, Indie,” Cody said suddenly. A laugh, more like a cackle, burst out of me. “They’re basically the worst. No talent hacks that only care about themselves. You can’t take them anywhere. No manners. They’re basically heathens who need to be caged. Steer clear.”

  “You guys are jerks,” I said, still laughing.

  “But he’s a bigger jerk,” Dad said, pointing at Cody to drive his point home.

  “Don’t you guys, I don’t know, have something to do right now?” I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture of Cody, shirtless and disheveled. But he had the waist of his jeans pulled away from his body and was looking down with a hand just inside. Adjusting himself or something.

  So gross.

  “Hey,” he said, snapping his head up when he heard the shutter click.

  “Just in case I need blackmail later.”

  Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door and a woman poked her head inside. “Five minutes, guys,” she said.

  Dad kissed the side of my head, then he and Cody left the room. Cody was just pulling a shirt over his head when they disappeared through the door. They had a pre-show ritual that I didn’t need to be a part of.

  I grabbed my purse, checking to make sure I had a pair of the custom molded earplugs my dad had made for me. They were the same kind the guys wore to protect their hearing onstage. I’d told him I could just use the regular store-bought rubbery ones, but he looked at me in horror. Those were not good enough for his little girl.

  When I left the dressing room, my part of the hall was empty, but I could still hear those young women still tittering around the corner. Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and pushed forward. But I didn’t expect to find the cause of their yelping to be because two members of Courting Chaos had stopped to talk to them.

  How had those girls even gotten backstage? No one around seemed to notice them there while they were quite noticeable. Yet they didn’t have pass
es, even temporary ones.

  Even worse, the big one, Eric Drinkswine, was eating the attention up like candy.

  “Girls, girls. There’s enough to go around,” he said.

  The words didn’t have much impact, but his tone said so much more. It was disgusting. And I had to pass by that spectacle to get to the stage.

  Chapter Six

  Cross

  We’d just played one of the best sets of our lives. Each one had gotten better and thank God because this mattered. We couldn’t suck as an opener for Kissing Cinder. We’d be run from the building. The crowd loved it and I noticed quite a few people singing along.

  This was surreal. When we did our small venue tour, of course, the crowd had already known our songs. But this… this was much, much bigger.

  As I got to the bottom step off the stage, someone handed me a bottle of water and a towel. I ran the towel over my face and down my neck, then around to the back to get rid of some of the sweat. Then I sucked down half the bottle of cold water. Drumming was a physical workout. There was no way around it.

  Even Drink was on point tonight, which wasn’t always a given. Most of the time we all crossed our fingers as we went on stage that he’d pulled it off. The one thing we could remind ourselves of was that yes, he was important, but his mistakes were less noticeable and we were becoming pretty good at covering for him. Or Ransom was anyway.

  “Told Lawson we needed to talk to him tonight,” Ransom said as we went through the doors to the backstage.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Should we bring Dixon?”

  Good question. Dixon wasn’t going anywhere, but if the three of us had some secret meeting with our manager, Drink would probably notice. That could set off a more serious series of events than we were ready for. At the moment.

  “Let’s fill him in later,” I said.

  “Great show, guys,” Lawson said as he came our way.

  Drink just kept walking, but Dixon and Ransom shook Lawson’s hand as they passed.

  “Want to talk now?” he asked quietly when he got to me.

 

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