Random on Tour: Los Angeles (Random Series #7)

by Julia Kent

  I needed her.

  I hated needing people.

  “Then why did you say you don’t have a home?”

  I looked around her house, this nice suburban two-story colonial along the edge of the city. No one I knew lived in a house like this except Joe and Trevor and Liam. It was like another world. This was a home. Where I lived with my dad and Johnny?

  That was just a warehouse for fleshbags.

  “I don’t know,” I said. And it was true. I didn’t. No answer came out. Just the cloud of confetti.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You say that a lot.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know.”

  She went to open her mouth and ask another question. Normally, I walk away from people when they do this. The questions felt like bullets. But this time, I asked one.

  “Why’s your hair half purple?”

  She reached up and touched it like she was suddenly remembering it was there. “Oh, this?” One corner of her mouth tipped up. “I was just...” Something in her smile faded. “I was just upset.”

  “You dye your hair when you’re upset?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. Beats getting high or cutting myself.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Man, she just jumped the shark, huh? “You do that shit?”

  She shook her head then looked at me, steadily, eyes rolling. “No. That’s the point. I dye my hair instead of doing that shit. Weren’t you listening?”

  “It’s hard to figure out which of the thousands of words that come out of your mouth I’m supposed to pay attention to.”

  She gave me a hard look.

  “All of them, Frown. All of them.”

  I could taste her heartbeat in my throat.

  “Fine. Look, you got a bathroom? And a dryer?”

  “What?” The hand holding the plate of cookies started to shake.

  I gestured at my body. “I need to dry my clothes. I need a quick shower. And a first aid kit. If we’re leaving now, I need to—”

  “Hold on!” she protested. “Leaving now?”

  My eyes searched the room for a clock. Found one. “Yeah. It’s about a twenty-nine hour drive, and that’s with a good pace. Gotta be there by Monday for the Tuesday show, and that’s cutting it fucking close. So...”

  She looked me up and down, then looked upstairs. “Yeah. Um, the shower’s up there. Towels are in the linen closet.”

  Linen closet. We didn’t have a linen closet in my apartment. A closet for nothing but towels and sheets? These people might as well be Martha Stewart.

  “Okay.” I walked past her and got halfway up the white carpeted stairs. “I’ll leave my clothes in the hall. Can you, uh...put them in the dryer?”

  She let out a long sigh.

  “Sure.”

  Chapter Four

  Maggie

  He walked up the stairs and I waited, willing my brain to stop thinking about the fact that he was about to be naked in my parents’ shower.

  The past fifteen minutes had just upended my life. Again.

  Charlotte had insisted I needed to do this. That the band’s big break would be ruined if Tyler wasn’t there. She had begged and pleaded, but ended the call with words that haunted me:

  “Maybe this is just what you need.”

  What? I need to spend two days driving to the west coast to rescue some asshole who didn’t have the decency to turn me down gently when I threw myself at him?

  No.

  And yet...she’d begged. If Tyler couldn’t make it to L.A., the band was screwed. Their tour would disintegrate and it was like that old kid’s story.

  For want of a shoe, the kingdom was lost.

  Except in this case, for want of a Frown, the rock stars were fucked.

  The bathroom door opened, and I heard a weird, muted thunking sound. Those must be his wet clothes. The shower went on, and I trudged up the stairs slowly on legs made of concrete. A small, tidy pile of—oddly enough—folded, wet clothes were there. T-shirt. Jeans. Socks.

  And...hmmm. No underwear.

  He must go commando.

  A furious blush hit my body like a heat wave, like being in an overly air-conditioned theater in August and walking outside into ninety-four degree weather. My eyes darted to the door, my ears catching the sound of the shower curtain sliding on the pole.

  I ran down the stairs and threw his pile of clothes in the dryer.

  Kathunk. Kathunk. Kathunk.

  The rhythm of the machine soothed me.

  I didn’t want to drive halfway across the country with a guy who had just set my heart on a salsa dance. Being contained in a car for all those hours alone with him was about as appealing as, well, being rejected.

  But Charlotte was my best friend. You do weird, crazy stuff for your bestie. Mostly so you can throw it in their face for the next six decades.

  A cup of coffee, three more cookies, and a thorough reading of all of Darla and Charlotte’s messages later, I was more composed. The GPS on my phone said L.A. was twenty-nine hours away. More than 1,800 miles. A rudimentary plan formed in my head.

  That plan was: no.

  I couldn’t seriously think about doing this, could I? I’d said yes to Charlotte, but that was under pressure. Now, as Frown washed his naked body with the same shower gel I used on mine, as his clothes tumbled in our dryer, and as my foot still tingled with the feeling of crushing his testicles, the absurdity of all of this seeped in.

  I began to laugh and couldn’t stop.

  The rumble of Lena’s car engine in the driveway shook me out of my thoughts. I heard a car door slam, Attila bark, Lena call out to someone, and then—

  “Why is Mrs. Wilmer standing out there like a member of a SWAT team surveying a hostage situation?” she asked, eyebrow cocked, her suit wrinkled and shirt collar stained with a thin line of coffee.

  “Well....”

  She froze, her ear turning toward the upstairs. “Is someone showering?” In that exact instant, the water went off.

  “No.”

  “Maggie!” she whispered, the sound furtive and laden with meaning. “Do you have a man here?”

  We both swiftly turned our heads toward the upstairs as a door clicked open. The sound of footsteps on carpet followed. Tyler appeared, his hair wet, his colorful skin on display, because he was only wearing a bath towel tucked around his waist.

  “Holy mother,” Lena said under her breath.

  I shot her a nasty look that might as well have screamed, Mine.

  At least she could breathe. I, on the other hand, lost the ability.

  “Oh. Uh, hi.” Tyler gave Lena an awkward look. “I’m Tyler.”

  Lena smiled nice and wide, her dimples showing in triplicate. “Hi, Tyler. I’m Lena. Maggie’s sister.”

  He walked down the stairs slowly, the towel nearly slipping. He caught it and acted as if there were nothing at all out of the norm about parading around my parents’ house wearing a small piece of terrycloth in front of me and Lena.

  “My clothes dry?” he asked me, his face pleasant but not smiling.

  “Um....”

  Lena bit back a laugh.

  “Where’s the dryer?”

  Lena pointed. I had become a statue, completely entranced by the way his tats danced on the strong curves of his muscled chest and arms.

  He walked into the little laundry room off the back of the kitchen where his clothes went Kathunk. Kathunk. Kathunk.

  Like my heart.

  “You finally decide to sleep with someone and that’s who you pick? You have some fine taste, sis,” Lena said in a conspirator’s voice.

  I hit her shoulder. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

  “Then can I have him?”

  “Shut up! And you’re supposed to be gay!”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire.” She snorted. “If you’re not sleeping with him, why is he naked in our house?”

  She had me there.

  “It’s a long story.” I frowned. “And I need to borro
w your car.”

  “For what?”

  “To drive to L.A.”

  Lena’s eyes went wide with surprise, then narrowed with suspicion. “I need cookies for this conversation.”

  “I need alcohol.”

  “You got any coffee?” asked a deep baritone. Tyler came back from the laundry room dressed in his mostly-dry clothes, finger-combing his wet hair. He was barefoot and, as I now knew, commando, the faded denim jeans all worn and sculpted to fit his hips and ass.

  “We have coffee!” Lena said brightly. “What can I make you? An espresso, a latte, a cappuccino, or—”

  “Just coffee. thanks.”

  Perplexed, Lena watched him like he was an alien.

  “Do we have ‘just coffee’, Maggie?” She looked at the espresso machine Dad bought on a business trip in Seattle a few years ago.

  “Run a double shot of espresso and let it go until the cup’s full,” I ventured.

  Tyler looked at us like we were the aliens.

  “If it’s too much trouble, we can just hit a donut shop on the way out of town,” he said.

  Lena visibly shuddered. “Dear God, no. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even on my douchey ex.” She pulled out the small ceramic container where Mom and Dad stored ground coffee and began making Tyler’s cup.

  Tyler looked at me.

  “How long before we can go?” he asked.

  Lena flipped the switch and the pump began, thick, black coffee pouring into the white mug. “You’re serious,” she said to me as the coffee poured out. “You need to borrow my car for a road trip?”

  “Um,” I said, swallowing. My mouth had gone dry. Tyler just stood there, eyes on the coffee machine.

  Lena switched the pump off and handed him the cup.

  He surveyed the thick milky foam with narrowed eyes. “Oh, uh—I usually drink it black.”

  She smirked. “It is black. That’s just crema. Drink up.”

  He took a tiny sip and raised one eyebrow. “Huh.”

  “Can I talk to you privately, Maggie?” she asked, teeth together, eyes aglow. There was fear, intrigue, curiosity, surprise, and a determination I knew damn well.

  Lena thought I was nuts.

  And, really, was she wrong?

  She grabbed my biceps and pulled me in the hallway where our parents’ bedroom and office were. Tyler was left alone in the kitchen, now gulping the coffee.

  “Tell me what you’ve done with my real sister, because the Maggie I know would never in a million years have a bad boy tattoo’d hottie taking a shower in our house while asking to borrow my car so she could go on a road trip to L.A. with him and have some fun.”

  “I’m offended you think I’m not capable of having fun!”

  “Don’t red herring me, Margaret,” Lena said in a severe voice, her finger in my face, pointing up. “I’m a lawyer. I was in debate club. I know when I’m being distracted. And I’m distracted enough by that chest. Holy Jesus, did someone carve it out of marbled butter?”

  “Hey! Quit ogling my...” Oh, damn. Tyler wasn’t “my” anything. She had every right to turn him into eye candy.

  She swallowed, her face softening, eyes going narrow with worry. “What are you doing? Who is this guy, really?”

  I leaned against the wall for support. “He’s my friend Charlotte’s boyfriend’s substitute bass player for their band.”

  “Oh, well, then. That explains everything. He’s practically family.”

  Lena’s sarcasm made me defensive. “He’s fine. I’ve known him for a while.”

  A small lie. Seeing him a handful of times at concerts over the past year, throwing myself at him on a rooftop, and kissing him in the hospital a few days ago didn’t exactly add up to a long-term friendship, but...

  “Look. He got mugged. Someone stole his instrument and his phone and wallet. The guy has nothing but a few hundred bucks. That’s it. He needs to get to L.A. and without ID, the only safe way is to have someone drive him there. I can’t even lend him a car—”

  Lena cut me off. “Listen to yourself, Maggie! Lend him a car? Are you nuts?”

  “I said I can’t—and won’t—because he has no ID. And suddenly, the band manager called and they entire band has a huge big break. But we have to get him to L.A. in two days. The concert’s Tuesday.”

  “You plan to drive alone with this guy for two days?” Those big, brown eyes were calm on the outside but underneath I knew she was evaluating me. Assessing me. Making sure this wasn’t a Maggie who was devolving. She’d seen it before, seven years ago, and the worry lines etched into her face as she studied me made me think of Mom.

  Who, thank God, wasn’t here right now. If either Mom or Dad were here they’d talk me out of this.

  “He looks pretty menacing to me,” she said, then cleared her throat meaningfully.

  I touched my hair. “Seriously? You’re judging people by their exterior?”

  “You do it to keep people out.”

  I thumbed toward Tyler. “Why do you think he does it?”

  “I don’t get tats and crazy hair colors. I can admire them, but I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t have to get it. You just have to lend me your car for a few days. Use Dad’s while I’m gone. I can’t take that.”

  She smirked. “He’d kill you. No one touches his Tesla.” Dad’s midlife crisis had been to buy a Tesla. Mom said she appreciated that vs. a mistress. Who wouldn’t? Teslas don’t give you herpes. Although, Dad loved that car so much he probably would have sex with it if he could.

  Lena sighed and bounced one foot nervously. I watched her face, realizing how tired she was, as she grappled with this.

  “You need to do this,” she finally said, her voice firm.

  “I do?”

  “Yes. You’ve been wound tight as a drum for more years than needed. Mom and Dad treat you like you’re broken. They love you, but the kid glove treatment is hard to watch.”

  “Jealous?”

  She shot me a look that said she was anything but. “Not jealous. I just think that if something in you intuitively says to do this, you should trust your gut.”

  My gut. Trust. The words didn’t make sense. Some day maybe they would. All I knew right now was that she wasn’t fighting me on this. Weird.

  She reached into her jacket pocket and handed me her car keys. “Good thing we’re all still on a family car insurance policy.” Ever-pragmatic Lena lived in a small cottage behind the house. Our grandma had lived there until last year, when she’d died. Lena’s return was smooth after she and her long-term boyfriend of eight years had separated.

  Having her accept this made me deeply insecure. It was like someone poked a small hole in my slightly under-inflated balloon self. The steady, small leak made me collapse from the inside out. Already on the fence, I found myself questioning this strange ordeal.

  And then my phone buzzed, forgotten in my pocket and now insisting on my attention. I held up one finger to tell Lena to hold on and answered it.

  “Hi, Darla.”

  “Oh, thank fucking God, Maggie. I’ve been half out of my mind sending messages. Tyler emailed me from the library earlier about how he got cleaned out and I freaked and called Charlotte and I can’t believe he lives in the same city as you! How’s that for serendipity.”

  Yeah. Right.

  “Lucky, huh?” I muttered.

  “It’s fate!” she shouted. Lena widened her eyes and I mouthed the words band manager.

  She nodded slowly and whispered, “I’m going to talk to Mr. Bad Boy. Give him the third degree.”

  I rolled my eyes. I knew Lena. She’d pack him a goodie bag and bake him two dozen pecan sandies while covertly doing an interrogation worthy of the CIA.

  “Maggie, you there? Tyler there?”

  “He’s here.”

  “So you’ll drive him out?”

  My answer perched on the tip of my tongue. Once the promise was made I couldn’t back out. Seven long years
since the defining moment of my life. Two months since I tried to use Tyler like a white board eraser. I’d needed him to rub me out.

  Er...

  “Yes,” I answered quickly. Before I could change my mind.

  “YAY!” Darla screamed. “You got a credit card? We’ll reimburse you for expenses. If you guys need a hotel room for the trip, let me know.”

  Record scratch moment.

  Hotel room?

  I heard a low, smooth baritone voice laughing in the distance. Who else was here? I walked to the end of the hall and peered into the kitchen to see Lena stacking bags of chips and pulling out coffee thermoses from the cupboards.

  And laughing with Tyler.

  I’d never seen him laugh like this before. Ever. The sound was infectious, making a grin spread across my face and filling me with a fuzzy glow.

  Twenty-nine hours of that sound, alone, in a car with him? Oh, yeah.

  “Maggie? You there?”

  “Yeah, Darla. I’ll get him there.”

  She let out a whoosh of relief. “Thank you so much! I know you and Tyler have a...past.”

  “Stop right there. I’m not talking about it.”

  “But maybe this is fate.”

  Please.

  “Maybe it’s just bad luck,” I replied, trying to get her off this track. “And I can help Frown now. It’s all good.”

  “The band owes you. Big time.”

  “The band can foot the bill for my night at a luxury hot springs spa in Colorado on my drive back.”

  I could hear her smile through the phone. “Deal.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do.”

  By the time I got off the phone and back into the kitchen, Tyler’s smile was long gone and his laugh was, too. Lena was filling an insulated grocery bag with enough food to feed the entire band for two days.

  My bags were packed from coming home. I was just on a plane yesterday. My mind reeled. Tyler drank another cup of coffee and expertly worked the espresso machine, filling a mug with an empty thermos next to it.

  Way to make yourself at home. And how had he figured out the machine so quickly, without watching the instructional DVD?

  “You need to pack?” he asked, not looking up from the machine.