by K. K. Allen
As I walk down the stairs to the lobby, I see Derrick pacing back and forth. I hang up on my end of the line and chuckle as I watch him get pissed, thinking I’m ignoring him. Then he sees me crossing the lobby and glares.
I roll my eyes, following him through the sliding glass door to the sidewalk. “When does he not have a stick up his ass?” I laugh.
“Hey, sugar,” Derrick greets a smiling Terese, who’s standing just outside the doors. He swoops her up and kisses her before letting her catch a ride on his back for the rest of the walk to our waiting van. He turns back to me. “I think Lyric’s got Crawley all riled up. She’s already confirming bookings for Europe and emailed him some stuff, but he’s still giving her shit. And you know her. She’s not taking it.”
Terese giggles. “Lyric’s a badass. When’s Crawley going to learn not to mess with her?”
I smirk, agreeing with Terese. “I’ve got plans for that douchebag. Don’t let him get to you. Where’s Lyric?”
“I’m covering for her,” Doug replies as he comes up behind me.
“What? Why?” I’m surprised by my anger, and it takes me a second to realize I’m upset because I was looking forward to seeing her. “She just got back on tour and she’s already bailing?”
Doug chuckles and holds the van door open for me. He eyes Crawley and then leans in. “Dickhead over there has her working on some things for Europe. They went at it this morning in the lobby, so I figured I’d help keep them apart since it’s my last day, anyway.”
I nod. “Fine. Tell me about it later. I’d like to know what he’s got her doing.”
“Sure thing.”
We spend less than an hour at rehearsal, just going through the motions. I think I’m the only one not painfully hungover after last night’s party, but I’m still as distracted as everyone else. I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Lyric’s return and our fight this morning. She’s had this effect on me since the day we met. She’s like a branding iron, scalding and raw upon first kiss, then permanently engrained where it hurts the most: my fucking heart. And nothing I do can make it go away.
Everyone’s still in zombie mode when we get back to the hotel, so we head straight for the restaurant on the first floor and have the waitstaff pull four tables together for us near the back of the restaurant. The crew is loud and boisterous as always, even after a late night of drinking. Until Lyric walks in, that is, and all eyes turn to her. I couldn’t pull mine away if I fucking tried.
She smiles sweetly at Melanie and pulls out the empty chair next to her. I shift, feeling the anger from earlier bubble up within me. If this were a week ago, there would be no question about who Lyric was going to sit next to.
Hedge, who’s chugging a mimosa next to me, must notice my discomfort, because he coughs mid-sip and then stands. “Switch with me, Lyric,” he says. “I need to talk to Stryder.”
Lyric looks panicked for a second as she looks from me to Hedge, but then she stands and comes around the table without arguing—and without making eye contact with me. I haven’t taken my eyes off her since she walked through the door, and the fact that she’s avoiding my gaze pisses me off. But of course, Lyric walks toward me. Always the professional. It doesn’t matter that I kicked her out of my room this morning or that Crawley’s apparently been up her ass.
She sits down beside me and immediately turns toward Terese. What is this shit? She can’t even acknowledge me now? She should be trying harder to earn my forgiveness after leaving me with no promise of return. I shift in my chair noisily, hoping to catch her attention somehow. Like a fucking toddler.
I can feel the eyes of my crew as they wait for my next move. Everyone’s witness to our tension, probably wondering what happened after our fight last night. There’s not much time to dwell on it. I’m distracted by the giggles coming from Terese and Lyric as they chat about something, and then Lyric’s phone starts vibrating.
At this point, I’m the only one paying attention to Lyric besides Terese. Everyone else has gone back to their loud chatter, but I can’t stop looking at her. Her phone vibrates again, and she glances at it. The name Destiny lights up her screen, but the message is hidden. Lyric ignores it and turns back to Terese.
Interesting. I wonder what’s going on there. When it goes off again, I lean in casually to ask Lyric about it, but she swipes her phone from the table and shoves it in her pocket. I frown. More secrets.
Lunch is awkward. Lyric and I don’t speak at all, and when the meal is over, she’s the first one to get up and head back to her room. In typical Wolf fashion, I follow her to the elevator. There are a few crew members readying to get in next, but I silently gesture to them to take another elevator. Rex included. This is one of those times I have to pull the asshole rock star card. I’ll apologize later. When the doors close and we’re alone, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Is this a coincidence, or are you following me?” Lyric asks flatly.
I look at her, wondering if she’s flirting or angry. Definitely angry. “Following you.”
She turns to face me. “Why?”
I mirror her, crossing my arms across my chest. “Because I can’t stop asking myself why Destiny’s been blowing up your phone and why you aren’t responding to her.”
Lyric narrows her eyes and a flush spreads on her cheeks. “I … I don’t know. She wants something from me, so I’m ignoring her.”
“What does she want from you?”
This is it. The moment of truth. Lyric is either about to change the subject or divulge something she’d rather keep hidden. When she takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, I know she’s about to let me in.
“My mom wants me to work with her. To write for her. Soaring is rebranding her image, and they need fresh songs. She thinks I can help, but I don’t want to. So, I’m avoiding her.”
I know better than to take Lyric’s explanation as the entire story. What she says doesn’t sound so bad, but there’s anger behind her calm exterior.
“Well, I’m sure your mom will get her songs elsewhere. Or maybe she can write her own. She is Destiny Lane, after all. She’ll figure it out.”
Lyric snorts. I’m surprised to hear the sound come from her, and my look of shock doesn’t get past her. She chuckles at my reaction and wipes a tear from her eye. “Destiny’s sure resourceful, but not in the way you would imagine. She’s not the most ethical person when it comes to getting what she wants.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
The ding of the elevator brings us to our floor, and I step back to let her out first. Like always, a feeling of yearning tugs at me, and I want to pull Lyric into my room and make love to her. We had our sexcapades down pat before she left. Every moment we could steal to be alone, we were rolling around naked together. I miss it. Even after our argument this morning, I want her.
“This is me,” she says flatly when we reach her door. “I’ll see you tonight, Wolf.”
She inserts her keycard into the slot, and a dull ache hits my chest as she pushes open the door and steps inside her room.
“Lyric.”
She swivels around, her face lighting up with hope.
I’m not ready to give her hope, so my expression remains blank. “Thank you for telling me that.”
She swallows and nods, the hope fading from her eyes first, smile last. “It’s not easy, you know? I’ve kept it all locked up for as long as I can remember. Just give me time, Wolf. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just…” She swallows. “There’s a lot of shit I need to let go of, and don’t know how.”
I can’t respond. She’s not giving me a choice. She’s not giving me a chance to be someone she can trust. And I’m not sure how long I can settle for the mystery that is Lyric Cassidy.
I’m exhausted by the time the show ends and Wolf is escorted from the stage to his dressing room. The band still has a meet and greet with the fans, and then we head to the airport to catch the private plane that will take us to Mia
mi. The guys have to be in the recording studio tomorrow afternoon, so leaving tonight is a must.
I groan as I make my way to the bus. Terese catches up to me and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Ready for Florida, sexy?”
I smile at her, loving that she’ll be in Florida with us, even though she will undoubtedly spend the time constantly sucking face with Derrick.
“I guess.” Then I frown. “I wish I was more excited, but with things so awkward between Wolf and me, I’m just not sure. I have a hotel booked, but now that seems kind of weird.”
Terese gives me a sympathetic expression and links my arm with hers. “You and Wolf will be okay. He’s looking for something you’re not ready to give, but you’ll get there. He’s crazy about you, Lyric. And no arguments, you’re staying in that house with us. Don’t leave me stranded.”
I want to laugh and keep the conversation light, but my heart has been so heavy since I left Wolf’s room this morning. Even after our short talk this afternoon, not being with him feels wrong. And I’m afraid that every second we’re apart only widens the divide between us.
Instead, I change the subject. “C’mon, let’s get our bags transferred. I can’t wait to pass out on the plane.”
Terese groans. “Me too. But I think Derrick has other ideas in mind. That boy is constantly trying to get in my pants.”
I can’t hold back my laughter. “You two are ridiculously cute. It kind of makes me jealous.” I pause, turning serious. “Wolf and I need to get back together fast. I miss him.”
“Then get over your shit and talk to him about whatever’s bothering you. You know you can trust him.”
She’s right.
“I know I can,” I resolve. “I’m telling him everything.”
“Good.” She smiles. “And then maybe you’ll tell me.” She winks and then tugs on my arm. “C’mon, let’s go get our bags.”
Once our bags are loaded into the van, we wait for the boys to finish up with the signing. It occurs to me that when I left for San Diego a few days ago, I was in such a rush I didn’t grab my things from Wolf’s room. I should probably get whatever’s left before we take off.
As I walk toward bus number one, I’m surprised to see Rex standing near the entrance in a heated exchange with Rory, the band’s bus driver. They don’t look like they’re fighting, just talking, but I’ve never seen Rex so angry. He’s a huge guy, capable of taking down an entire football team if given the opportunity, but I’ve never seen him show anger. He just looks threatening.
A voice catches my attention, and I turn to see Derrick approaching Terese, a wide smile on his face.
“The signing’s over?” I call out to him. “Where’s Wolf?”
He’s already pulling Terese in for a kiss, but he stops to respond. “Said he had to grab his shit from the bus.”
That’s all I get before he devours Terese’s mouth. My stomach rolls as it hits me that Wolf must already be inside.
I rush the last few steps and reach for the door. Rory calls for me to stop, but fuck that. This used to be my bus too, and my things are still on it. I quicken my pace down the narrow aisle and past the main living area, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest.
Something feels wrong.
I stalk toward Wolf’s bedroom at the back of the bus. Behind me, Rex is now the one calling for me to stop, but I can barely hear him over my raging heartbeat. I’m at Wolf’s door. It’s closed, but that’s not unusual. That’s not what makes my stomach churn to the point I think I might lose my lunch all over the floor.
It’s the moaning. The moaning is loud. The screaming is louder, a woman’s voice pleading, “Fuck me harder.”
Rage swirls through me as I pound on the door twice before deciding that I don’t actually want to see what’s on the other side. I just want him to stop. But the sounds keep getting louder. I clasp a hand over my mouth, stifling the sob quickly building in my throat. Without energy to fight, I allow a pair of strong arms to lead me off the bus.
The pressure in my chest is too much and my vision is blurry. I think I might fall if not for the arms around my shoulders. Even when we step off the bus, the arms keep me steady. Maybe so I don’t make another run for Wolf’s room; I don’t know. All I want to do is run back on that bus. Find Wolf and rip his heart out of his chest the way he just did to mine.
When the arms release me, I swivel to find a sympathetic Rex in front of me. He opens his mouth to speak when a voice from behind him cuts in.
“Lyric.” The voice sounds like Wolf’s, but that must be my imagination. Wolf is fucking some rocker slut in his room. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I try to breathe through the pain. It doesn’t work. The first tear slips from my eye and rolls down my cheek … and then another. I’m not sure I could have stopped them if I tried.
Strong, familiar arms wrap around me. “Lyric, what’s wrong?”
I look up, but I have to blink the tears away to see clearly. Wolf wipes a finger across my eyes, drying them tenderly. He must be a mirage.
But no, he’s here, standing before me, concern etched into every line on his face. And then he gently moves the strand of hair from my face and hooks it over my ears. “What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”
He grips my face with his palms, pleading for me to speak, but I’m still reeling from the sight of him.
“It wasn’t you?”
“Who?”
I inhale sharply and look up at the bus. “On your bus.”
He shakes his head, clearly confused. “What? No. I was backstage with some VIPs. Why would you think I was on the bus?”
I pull away from him and dry the rest of my face with the back of my hand and stare back up at the bus. Confused, I turn to Rory and Rex, shaking with adrenaline. “Who’s on the bus?”
The men exchange worried glances, but neither says a word.
Wolf faces them fully, narrows his eyes, and puffs out his chest. “Who the fuck is on the bus?”
Just then, the door to the bus opens, and out stumbles none other than Destiny Lane. Crawley’s behind her, zipping up his jeans. Both look wasted and are cackling with laughter as if sharing an inside joke. Destiny looks completely strung out, a large Chanel handbag weighing down her arm. Destiny and her fucking purses.
And her eyes… I’ve seen that look before, as she snorted lines off the bathroom counter right in front of me when I was eight years old. Coke was always her weakness, but I thought rehab fixed her the last time. It’s been years since I’ve heard any rumors of her addiction resurfacing, but here it is, in the flesh.
My eyes are fixed on Destiny’s bugged-out eyes, her jittery body flying high—but then a loud, gravelly shuffle catches my attention. Wolf is moving quickly, his hand gripping the collar of Crawley’s black button up shirt and slamming him against the bus. Everything seems to shake.
Wolf’s expression is as ferocious as the beast he was named after as he uses his grip on Crawley’s shirt to lift him just enough so that his toes have to fight to feel the ground.
“What the fuck are you doing, you shit stick? Were you just fucking her on my bus?” He slams Crawley into the bus once more.
Crawley already has blood running down his face, but the prick is laughing like a madman, spinning me further into a spindle of rage.
“You piece of shit,” Wolf spits. Then he looks over and sees Destiny in Rex’s arms. She looks like she’s about to topple over without him.
“Is that Destiny?”
Wolf doesn’t wait for a response before his fist slams into Crawley’s face, and I hear a loud crunch as blood sprays from his nose.
Oh my God. I run to Wolf, but Hedge leaps toward me and holds me back, hugging tightly me from behind. “You don’t want to go over there, Lyric.”
“He’s going to kill him!” I say, desperate to free myself.
Chaos becomes charged with more chaos as screams and shouts wake the night. Security pushes their way through the crowd, rushing to reach Wol
f and Crawley.
“Let him go, Wolf!” I shout. “He’s not worth it.”
I’m not sure if he hears me or if he knows he’s done enough damage to the old prick, but Wolf slams a dazed Crawley into the bus again and then throws him onto the ground before backing up until he’s by my side.
“You’re fired, asshole. We’ll mail you your shit.”
Concert security rushes forward, wasting no time to haul Crawley away.
“What is that dick doing with your mother?” The question is directed at me, but his heated eyes are still on Crawley as security hauls him off the ground and toward one of the vans.
I shake my head, overcome with embarrassment. I’m just as bewildered as Wolf at the sight of Destiny and Crawley. The woman is desperate to get to me. It doesn’t completely surprise me that she showed up here. When she wants something, she goes after it. That form of perseverance worked well for her early in her career, in her teens, when she was competing for the spotlight against the Cyndis and Madonnas of her generation. That competitive edge, paired with perfect timing and well-produced, catchy pop songs catapulted her into fame.
But over time, all her music started to sound the same. Autotune can only get you so far in this industry, and her clock was running down. Another big artist began to outshine her efforts, and then another, and then another … and then, when I was seventeen, she released her best album ever.
Wolf lets out a huff, distracting me from my thoughts, and then he walks away without another word. I watch as he approaches Doug and security while the van holding Destiny and Crawley pulls away from the lot. I didn’t even have a chance to talk to her to find out what she wanted. Not that she’d register much in her state. But maybe I could have tried. My expression hardens in response to my hopeful thoughts. Always hopeful, even when I know better.
I reach for my phone and scroll through the text messages she sent me today. Nothing gives any hint that she was going to show up. And definitely nothing about Crawley. Just “Call me, Lyric,” and “Pick up the phone, Lyric,” and “I’d like to talk.”