I nodded at Ransom to indicate that I needed him. He slowed down while Drink and Dixon kept going without realizing we weren’t with them anymore. Then the three of us slipped into a random empty room on the right.
“What’s going on?” Lawson asked, folding his arms over his chest. “Or should I guess?”
“How hard would it be to quietly put together a short list of bass players?” I asked.
We all knew what was coming and probably should’ve started the process earlier.
“Cross and I don’t want to be caught off-guard,” Ransom offered.
“It’s coming. We all see it. Except maybe him,” I said—because it was the truth.
“We think eventually he’s going to do something we can’t come back from. Or he’ll just stop showing up,” Ransom explained.
“OK,” Lawson said while nodding. “I’ve actually been thinking about this very thing lately. You know who’d be perfect?”
I had ideas, but we waited for Lawson to answer.
“Booker Coyote. It’d be a stretch to get him, but I could put out some feelers. See if he’d even be interested.”
“He’s ridiculously good,” Ransom said.
Booker was one of the best still at our level though insanely busy already. We’d be lucky to get him. Unlikely but lucky.
“I’ll just start putting out some feelers,” Lawson said. “I’ll get some names together. We’ll go from there.”
“Thanks, Lawson,” I told him as I pat him on the back.
Just as we got to the door, Lawson turned back to us. “Does Dixon know about this?” he asked.
“We’ll fill him in,” Ransom promised.
Ransom and I left soon after Lawson and followed the noise down the hall to find Dixon and Drink. Where there was noise, there was usually Drinkswine. The two of them had already started their own personal after party. At least two dozen people filled the room, including four girls hanging all over Drink.
I wasn’t jealous. Couldn’t care less about the attention he got, but I hated how he handled it. And hated how he ensured he was the one getting it. His loud voice and big arm movements ensured no one else could possibly overshadow him.
Standing at the door to the party, dreading the idea of going inside and actually considering skipping it all together. Maybe I’d go watch Kissing Cinder do their set.
Then someone groaned loudly behind me and the familiar, small blonde passed by me when I glanced over my shoulder.
Indie had changed her clothes. Earlier she’d been wearing jean shorts and a regular T-shirt. Now she was in a skirt and tank top. Just normal clothes that looked hot as hell on her. The skirt brushed against her legs as she walked and damn, I needed to get the ideas flooding my brain out of my head.
“What was the groan for?” I called out to her.
She turned toward me and that camera still hung around her neck. I tried not to smile because her camera was what had caused our first meeting to not go so well and I wondered if she always had it with her.
Actually, if I was being honest, my shitty attitude when I’d first seen her had more to do with the way I reacted than anything else. It was like pouring gasoline on a fire with my mood being the fire.
“What?” she asked, cocking her head at me.
“You groaned as you walked by. Something bothering you?” I took two steps toward her. She only took one, yet still, we met in the middle. Then I folded my arms over my chest to try to look more serious so she wouldn’t know I was purposefully needling her. Hoping for a reaction.
“That.” She flung her hand out in the direction of Dixon, Drink, and those girls.
“That?” I looked behind me, even though I knew very well to what she was referring.
“That,” she said again. “Doesn’t it bother you? No. Of course, it wouldn’t. Don’t mind me.” Indie turned to walk away.
“Wait, wait. What are you talking about?” I asked, not realizing I’d reached out for her arm. We didn’t make contact, but still, I snapped my hand back hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She sighed. “I’ve grown up around this. It really shouldn’t bother me, but for whatever reason, this time it does.”
“What bothers you?” I asked again because she hadn’t answered me the first time. “Give me a little more information to go on here.”
She swallowed, then wet her lips. “The girls. Groupies. What did that guy call them? Medics?”
My stomach tightened. I knew that was what she’d meant yet hoped for something else.
“You don’t like the girls that hang around backstage?” I chuckled. “You might be in the wrong place then.”
“I know,” she snapped.
Woah. This was clearly taking a turn and not for the better. Yet even with her annoyance, I wanted to be there talking to her.
“I’m not a prude,” she said suddenly.
“Yeah, OK.”
“I’m not. It’s just… ” Indie sighed and leaned her back against the nearest wall. I moved in front of her. “I’ve seen girls throw themselves at my dad and the guys since I was little. I’m used to it. But none, at least that I ever saw, were ever… ”
“What?”
“OK, look.” She pushed off the wall and took a step toward me, then dropped her voice. “Those girls in there look really young and are dressed really… ” Indie shook her head. “Anyway, your friend has his tongue down one of the girl’s throats and it’s super inappropriate.”
“Wow. Slut shaming?”
“I didn’t call those girls ‘sluts,’” she countered, anger burning her eyes.
I probably shouldn’t have decided to mess with her, but this was seriously entertaining.
“I was talking about Drinkswine,” I said with a chuckle. “The guy with his tongue down the girl’s throat.”
Her face pinched up in a way that made her look far too severe. “It’s not funny,” she said. “Do you guys check ID? Do you even know their names?”
I shook my head. “Not always.” And I should’ve made sure she knew I wasn’t like Drink, but why did I care what this girl thought of me?
“I figured. Look, whatever. You called me back here and asked, so I told you. They look really young. They're dressed so… ”
“So?”
“Barely dressed, OK?” she snapped. “They’re barely dressed. And they’re acting really inappropriate, given how young they look. That’s my only point. They could get you all in trouble one day.”
“And you’ve made your point.” Those words came out snidely, making me sound more like an asshole than I’d meant to, but this was no longer fun. She was beginning to piss me off. It wasn’t that Indie was wrong in what she was saying—it was the way she said it. Those girls weren’t beneath her and she didn’t sound like she thought they were, but she was definitely judging us.
“Well, again, you asked.”
“I’m starting to wish I hadn’t.”
“Whatever,” she said as she walked away.
Yet when I turned around to go into the room where everyone else was, I couldn’t help but look at the girl Drink had on his lap and couldn’t deny that what Indie had said was absolutely true. Of course, he was drawn to the youngest one in the room.
Chapter Seven
Indie
Fuck Cross Rhodes and fuck Courting Chaos.
Or at least those girls were going to try their best to do just that. It shouldn’t have bothered me. I wouldn’t let it bother me.
I just wanted to go watch my father play to a sold-out crowd.
After putting in the custom earplugs, I slipped through the side door and walked out to the side of the stage. Dean waved at me, then went back to scanning the crowd.
A venue security guy opened the gate for me to step out onto the floor and I found the perfect spot to get some fantastic pictures of the band. Eventually, I’d go back inside security to that small space between the stage and the audience and maybe even up onto the stage. I had the pass, so
no one would stop me.
One thing I never did was try to push through the hoard of people to get up front. Up front could actually be dangerous. Someone had actually been crushed and had died during a Kissing Cinder performance at a big festival. The band hadn’t known what had been going on at the time and had only learned about it later. But it had messed the guys up for a while.
At first, I just watched them do their thing. Being able to take the show in not through the lens of my camera was sometimes as nice as taking the pictures. I never made it a full set, though.
Snap, snap, snap.
I moved along the outside of the crowd, took pics of them dancing and singing and pouring their hearts into the songs almost as much as the band did. Then I slipped back inside.
Dad eventually looked right at me and scrunched up his face. Then he twisted it another way. Then another. I just continued to push the button and would keep taking his picture until he stopped. “Playful” didn’t even begin to cover describing my father.
But when they played my favorite song, “This Isn’t Good-bye,” I stopped everything I was doing and listened, letting the melody sweep me away. This was an older, slower song of theirs but absolutely timeless. Special for me because Dad used to sing it to me when it was time to leave at the end of a visit.
He caught me watching, then smiled and winked. The girl behind me squealed like he’d been looking at her. While I knew the truth, there was absolutely no reason to burst her bubble.
This was my dad’s song to me. He’d written it, he said, to make himself feel better about leaving. It was never good-bye, he said. He’d always return. What he didn’t know for a long time was that the routine of him singing me that song accompanied by only an acoustic guitar, then returning later made me feel better as well. I always knew he’d come back.
When Kissing Cinder was down to just two songs, I made my escape backstage.
The best part of watching Dad and the guys was that I’d spent at least an hour not thinking about Cross or Courting Chaos or whatever debauchery was happening backstage. I didn’t like how much of my brain’s real estate they’d been occupying.
Yet as I went down the hall, I could still hear their little party happening in the same room I’d left them in. I’d avoid that area at all costs and hopefully avoid another run-in with Cross.
Instead, I went to grab a drink and let Dad do his post-show routine before the meet and greet.
I loved being on tour with Dad and it was an amazing opportunity to get to see the country along the way. That wasn’t something most people ever got to do and unlike the bands, I actually got to see the cities we went to. Once in a while, Dad had the time to go out and explore with me, but I always went out by myself all the time because I didn’t have the obligations they did. I had freedom.
“Get some good pictures?” Dean asked as I walked down the hall.
“Always. They get so lost in the music. The pics will be amazing.”
Dad’s dressing room was already bursting with sound when I got there, but I could still hear the crowd out in the arena taking their time to clear out, chanting for an encore, begging for just a little more of Kissing Cinder.
Now, I just wanted to go to bed. I’d gotten up at three this morning to get to the airport and now it felt like I hadn’t slept in days. The bands would be going half the night doing whatever it was they did after the show. I knew what some of their activities were but tried extremely hard not to think about them. But I couldn’t go to bed without letting Dad know.
I knocked, but no one answered. So I pushed the door open as I knocked again. Then I called out without looking in. “Hello?”
“Come in,” Cody said back.
Manny still had only a towel wrapped around his waist after the all-important post-show shower when I shut the door behind me, but Dad and Cody were fully dressed. The shower ran in the room behind the wall.
“Hey, Dad.” I rustled his wet hair as I circled around the couch and dropped down beside him.
“You look exhausted,” he said back.
“Oh, you sweet talker.” But the huge yawn that came next betrayed me anyway. “Actually, though, I am. I’m just going to go back to the bus and sleep until forever if that’s OK with you.”
“Fine with me. I can come with you. We could watch a movie.”
“Did you miss the ‘sleep forever’ part?” I smiled tiredly over at him. “Listen, this isn’t my first rodeo. Lots of fun to be had tonight. I’ve just been up since you went to bed last night, so we’ll hang out tomorrow or whenever. It’s fine. Promise.”
He nodded. “If you’re just going to sleep anyway, I might just stay on—”
“Manny’s bus. Or Cody’s or whatever. Yeah, Dad. I know how this works.” Even though it took every last bit of the energy I had left, I pushed up to stand. Dad followed. “Party hard,” I said.
Dad chuckled. “I’ll keep my phone close in case you need anything,” he promised, pulling me into a hug.
“And I will keep my phone very, very silent for the sleeping forever. If you need something, you should probably call Dean.”
“Night, Ladybug.” He squeezed even harder.
“Oh, don’t start that again.” I pulled back.
“And if I do?”
“I might have to run home and tell Mom. Night, guys.”
As I slowly dragged myself toward the exit, it became clear the Courting Chaos party was still in full swing with its loud music and laughter. Nothing I said to Cross had made a damn bit of difference.
Then I remembered Bellamy’s text a couple of hours ago. You should send me a Courting Chaos T-shirt. I’d love you forever. So instead of going right to the bus where I really wanted to be, I found the people packing up the merch tables and grabbed a T-shirt, CD, and a couple of other trinkets. Maybe I’d even get someone to have them signed though I wouldn’t ask the guys myself.
Then I pushed out into the night air and was met with fevered screaming. They did that every time someone opened a door or moved or breathed or blinked. To their utter disappointment, it was just me. There was a collective groan followed by silence. That kind of reaction could ruin a girl’s self-esteem. Me? I just laughed it off. I wasn’t the one they were trying to catch a glimpse of.
Yet inside Dad’s bus, now my bus, the air was calm and quiet. Exactly what I needed.
That bus basically became my bus once I joined him on tour. Some nights Dad would stay on with me, some he’d spend on another bus indulging in the “benefits” of being on tour.
Bellamy and Maggie thought it was weird how chill I was regarding Dad and his life. This life with my dad was all I knew and I didn’t get the details, didn’t want the details, would’ve stabbed the details in the face just to not witness it.
But it was his life.
Though I did have the bus to myself a lot, sometimes others crashed here as well. Buses got crowded. People needed breaks. It wasn’t unusual for one of the guys who didn’t have his own to sleep in one of the bunks for the night. Not just anyone was allowed, but those in Dad’s trusted circle knew they could ask and I wouldn’t likely say no.
I’d sleep in Dad’s room with the real bed at the back. He insisted he could sleep in a bunk because this was what he spent his life doing. But for me, he wanted the privacy the bedroom afforded.
If I could make it there. The couch looked pretty comfortable when I finally got up the steps, so I sat down on it just for a minute.
And it was the last thing I remembered doing.
Chapter Eight
Cross
There wasn’t much time to contemplate yet another run-in with Indie Cinderstone.
Indie was a puzzle that I no longer wanted to figure out. Sexy as hell, nice, but given the chance, a sharp attitude and apparently a judgy personality. I really liked the first part but wanted nothing to do with the second.
Moments after Indie had stormed away from me after the show, having given me more than her fair shar
e of thoughts on our lifestyle, a half-dressed redhead dropped into my lap. Though if I were honest with myself, I didn’t love what was considered the “rocker lifestyle” any more than Indie. I hated how Drink treated the girls who came along. Yet when Indie had made her judgment, I’d felt the need to defend the life and in the process him. Though I didn’t admit it to her, I also wasn’t exactly comfortable Drink’s preference for the younger looking ones but I assumed they were all legal.
I mean, I doubted she had any idea of the things I’d seen her father do and we’d barely started the tour.
Drink took his whole focus off the girl Indie had seen him with and split it by adding a second. Not replaced—added. He was taking turns kissing one, moving on to the other, and then back again.
I knew a threesome was supposed to be the dream of every living man, but I didn’t see the appeal. Drink must like them because he did it on the regular.
Dixon wasn’t in the room. He was great at disappearing like it was his superpower and Ransom stood across from me talking to a group, though I couldn’t hear about what.
“Sorry,” the girl on my lap said with a voice several notches sweeter than could possibly be real. She’d landed somewhat hard, barely missing crushing my balls. “I’m Macy.”
“Hi.” I took a look around, then added, “There are some seats available.”
“You’re Cross from Courting Chaos.”
“I know.”
“You are so hot. The way you play, these tattoos.” Macy twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and shivered like just talking about how hot I was gave her a mini orgasm. Then she leaned over to run her fingers up the ink on my right arm. The sleeve I’d just recently gotten finished. “The tattoos are definitely hot.”
I was about to tell her that she could admire them from the chair next to one of Drink’s girls. I didn’t have the chance.
She pushed her lips against mine aggressively. Like this was her chance and she couldn’t pass it up. I supposed that was true and didn’t mean it in a conceited way. Most of these girls couldn’t care less which of us they hooked up with. They wanted the story of how they’d hooked up with Courting Chaos.
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