by Rye Hart
“Delia, can I speak with you for a second?”
“Sure Hank. What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re going to hate me for this, but there’s nothing I can do about that I suppose. I need you on the bus with the guys.”
“What?” I asked. “Why? You said I could follow in my truck.”
“I know, I know. But I got your sobriety plan in my inbox and I think it’s good. I agree with you that surveying him without intervention on this trip could be a good thing for you. But you won’t see that unless you’re on the bus. Plus I have a couple of meetings set up along the way and I’ll need my car for those.”
“I can gather all I need to know as we stop along our journey,” I said.
“Delia, you’re on the bus. The label said you can park your truck at the edge of the lot and keep it here. The bus is ready to roll. All we need to do is get on it.”
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” I asked.
“Not if you want me to approve your sobriety plan. But here’s the deal. If you feel the need to implement the plan sooner, I’m not gonna stop you.”
“Trust me, I won’t. If things get out of hand, I’ll do whatever is necessary to get it back under control. Especially if I’m going to have to live with those idiots for the next little while,” I said.
“I knew I hired the right person for this job. Good luck.”
Great.
Just fucking great.
I walked over to my truck and moved it to the edge of the parking lot. They had a space blocked off for me and everything, which only served to help the reality sink in a lot faster. I was now on the bus with a drunken man I couldn't resist and his two idiotic cronies. I had watched the videos that surfaced of their after parties and official videos of their concerts. I knew what I was getting into, and it wasn’t good.
“Come on, I’ll show you where to put your bags,” Drake said.
I grabbed my bag and followed Drake onto the bus. Landon was already there, sleeping in his bunk with his hand hanging out into the aisle. I made my way for the bedroom in the back, but Drake’s hand came down onto my shoulder.
“You’ll sleep in Stone’s bunk until we pick him up,” Drake said.
“I’m not doing this unless I take that room. Putting a door or something between me and you guys,” I said.
“Then the front door’s that way. Enjoy trying to keep up.”
I heard Landon chuckle as he turned over in bed, his eyes peeking out at me as he tapped the bunk above him.
“This is Stone’s bunk. Hope you don’t mind having a neighbor,” Landon said.
Throwing my eyes back to Drake, all he did was shrug his shoulders. He walked back into the room and closed the door, locking himself away from the two of us. Landon was already back to snoring again, and I sighed as I stowed my bag away. There was a small compartment next to the head of my bunk and I shoved my bag in, resolving myself to the bunk as I sank down on the covers.
At least he wasn’t expecting me to share the room with him.
Fumbling around, I slid out my laptop as the bus got on the road. I opened up a final paper I was working on. A paper about Drake, in fact. It was a comparison paper between him and my father, though both were remaining nameless. It was on the theory that addiction, no matter who it struck, always followed the same path, resulted in the same side effects, and eventually ended the same way. I was titling it, ‘The Mirror of Addiction,’ and I was hoping to eventually make it my doctoral thesis, whenever I had the funds to pursue my higher degrees of education.
I sank myself into the meat of the paper as the bus rolled down the road.
Settling in, I got so engrossed in my work I didn’t pay attention to the time that passed by. A door opening caught my attention, and I saw Drake pass by my head. He went to the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, opening it loudly as I tried to concentrate on my paper again.
But once Landon moved from his bunk, I started fumbling for my headphones.
“Can I get some of those?” Landon asked.
“Sure. You want some ketchup to dip ‘em in?” Drake asked.
“Of course. There any other way to eat chips? Hey sweet stuff, you want some chips?” Landon asked.
“It’s Delia, and no,” I said.
“Don’t bother. She’s a stick in the mud,” Drake said.
“They can be fun,” Landon said.
“Off limits. She's off-limits, man. You'll have to find someone else to have fun with.” Drake said.
“Oh, you know Stone. He always finds us the best ones. I remember that one redhead that got on here. Fuck. I'm so glad you let me have that one,” Landon said. “That was a classic night. Don’t think Stone remembers it, though.”
“Shame. It was a good night,” Drake said.
Sighing, and cussing Hank again, I plugged in my headphones and turned on my music.
I went back to typing my paper, trying to drown out the disgusting nature of their conversation. It was obvious they were just trying to get to me. I looked back and saw them chuckling, eyeing me playfully as I shook my head.
Clearly, I was going to hate every second of this fucking trip, and I couldn’t wait to get into my own hotel room and away from these juvenile jackasses.
CHAPTER 13
Drake
Our first stop on the small tour was Jacksonville, Florida, which just happened to be Stone’s hometown. When we rolled into town, Landon and I cheered. He was meeting us at the venue tonight, then he’d pile on the bus and ride with us to the last three dates.
But the moment we got to the venue, Hank’s face was the first face I saw.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting set up for a concert. What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
“What the hell did you two idiots do to Delia?”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“I saw her at the hotel. She was fucking close to tears. What did you do to her on that bus?”
“Nothing. Just me and Landon shootin’ the shit,” I said.
“You’re intentionally making her uncomfortable and it stops now. She’s here to help you, to keep you on track. To make sure you’re—doing okay.”
The only thing she’s helping me with right now is a recurring case of blue balls.
“You’re the one that sprung this on everyone and put her on the bus. If she’s close to tears, that’s on you too, buddy. You know how rowdy we get on the road.”
“She told me about the alcohol in your bag, Drake. What the fuck’s it doing on the bus?”
“So now you got her spying for you?” I asked. “I’ll make sure to be more careful next time.”
“Knock if off, or I will make your life hell. Got it?” he asked.
“Whatever,” I said.
I strode past my grumpy manager and headed for the dressing room. I had to admit, I did feel guilty about the bottle of alcohol in my bag. Delia had seen it and had given me the most disappointed look. Not disapproving. Not like Hank. But disappointed. Maybe one day I would sit her down and talk to her about the pain both physical and mental.
Rright now, I had a fucking concert to give.
The show went off without a hitch. It was loud and crazy, with women tossing their bras and panties to the stage just like they always did. Beer was being guzzled and I kept throwing them back on stage myself. The women went wild whenever I gyrated my hips and I picked one out of the crowd to come up on stage with me. I was in my element, adored by throngs of people who accepted me for what I was.
The show ended with two encores and people throwing their shirts at me in praise. My band and I took a bow before we left, and I could feel hands groping at me. They were grabbing at my chest and ripping my hat off my head.
While I usually put up withit, I didn’t tonight. Instead of the groping making me ready for the party tonight, all I wanted to do was get back to the bus.
I ducked into a bar after the show and
made my way into the shadows. I ordered a whiskey neat and downed it quickly, then asked the pretty little waitress to get me another. Landon found me and slid into the seat in front of me, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline of our performance.
“Disappeared on us pretty quick there, Drake.”
“Needed something stronger than beer,” I said.
“I hear ya on that,” he said, as the waitress set my drink in front of me.
“Want one?” I asked.
“Nah, man. I’m good. Stone’s supposed to get us later. Got some hotties I wanna keep it up for.”
“You’ve never had an issue with whiskey dick.”
“I wanna get mine tonight down a woman’s throat. Pussy’s getting a bit old,” he said.
“Only you would think something like that,” I said, with a grin.
“Hey. What’s up with you? You weren’t your regular self on stage.”
“The fuck’s that mean? That show was one of the best we’ve done in a while.”
“You just seemed a bit—distracted. Kept asking the crowd to sing so you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t do your usual stage diving. What gives?”
“Just wasn’t what I was feeling tonight. But the crowd was happy, so what?” I asked.
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay is all. I know you got a lot of shit on your shoulders. Didn’t know if there was somethin’ I could do.”
“The fuck’s wrong with you? I’m good. I always am.”
“Landon! Drake!”
“Stone!” Landon said. “What’s up?”
“Come on, come on. I went to the bus to find you guys and you weren’t there. I’ve got some lovely ladies waiting for us. Ready to party it up, Drake?”” Stone said.
“I’m good tonight, guys. Gotta get some rest,” I said.
“What?” Stone asked. “This is our first night. We always take a lady each on our first night. You know, to christen the tour.”
“It’s just a mini tour. And even though you two don’t do shit on our off days, I do. My knee’s killing me. You guys have fun,” I said.
“I’m sure that silky blond wouldn’t mind sitting on your lap,” Stone said.
“Can it, Stone. Go have fun. I’m heading back to the bus.”
“Not going to the hotel room?” Landon asked.
“Nope. Night guys.”
I didn’t wanna be in a damn hotel room with people watching over me. I wanted peace. Quiet. Serenity or whatever the fuck it was called. I wanted a place to be my own man for a little bit. For no one to need me, want me, or want to fuck me. I wasn’t feeling any of this shit tonight. None of it. All I wanted was to fall asleep face first with a stomach full of alcohol and no pain in my damn knee, and no memories in my brain.
Was that too much to fucking ask?
Landon and Stone left to go find whatever women they were screwing tonight. I paid my bill and left the waitress a decent tip, then headed back to the bus. I opened the door and got on, making my way toward the back as I grabbed a beer from the fridge.
But something that sounded like my name drew my attention.
I held my breath as I listened for it again, but I couldn’t hear anything. Fuck. I was drunk enough already. I put the beer back in the fridge and passed by the bunks, but then the sound happened again.
“Drake.”
It was nothing but a whisper, a prayer in the wind as I stood in the doorway that held the bunks on the bus. Stone’s bunk was shielded with its heavy curtains, but I could see movement behind the walls. I stepped a bit closer, holding my breath and trying to keep as silent as I possibly could.
Then, it happened again. Only this time, the moan was undeniable.
“Yes, Drake. Right there.”
Delia. Oh God, I walked in on her again. She was on the fucking bus. I crouched down and made my way toward the back door that housed my room, but when I heard my name again I couldn’t ignore it. It was wanton. Desperate. Breathy and full of desire.
Delia was fucking pleasuring herself again, and I could hear her fingers stroking in her wet arousal.
I turned around and gazed through the crack in the curtains at an angle. I had the perfect view of her hand between her naked thighs. Her skin was glistening, and she was bucking wildly into her fingertips so much so that her bunk was moving. I stood there, rooted in shock as my name continuously dripped from her lips.
Delia was getting herself off to me. Again.
My cock jumped to attention, pressing painfully against my jeans. I palmed myself, trying to relieve some of the ache as her sighs and moans grew louder. Her voice got higher and the bed moved harder. Her fingertips were moving faster and I could see her lifting her hips off the bunk. I unbuckled my jeans, shoving them to the floor and opened the door behind me.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I heard her climax, a mixture of choking and gasping as I closed the door quietly behind me. I pulled my cock from my boxers and stroked my thickness, my skin drenched with precum. I listened as she panted, cooing my name as my hand slid along my length. I could feel my balls already curling into me as I pressed myself against the door.
I closed my eyes and saw her hands again, deep between her thighs and covered in her juices. I could smell her. Fuck, I could smell her pussy permeating this damn bus. Why the fuck she wasn’t in her hotel room I’d never know, but I was fucking glad she wasn’t. Her sounds rang loudly in my ears as my hand squeezed my cock, my hips pushing into my own hand as I bit down onto my tongue.
If I moaned or called her name like I wanted to, she would know I was here.
It would ruin everything.
I stumbled over to my bed and pressed my face into my pillow. I thrust my hips into my hand, envisioning my cock taking her virginity. I could see it slicked with her juices as I fucked her into the world of debauchery. I could hear her moans as my name dripped from her pouty lips.
My toes curled as I came into the palm of my hand, coating my bed with cum that I wanted to desperately pump into her.
I panted heavily into the pillow, resigning myself to sleep with my pants down around my ankles.
Delia had been moaning for me.
All I wanted was for her to moan with me.
CHAPTER 14
Delia
When we got to the hotel in Jacksonville, Florida, I discovered my first mistake. When booking hotels online, make sure to get a confirmation email. Even though I used their online site to purchase the hotel rooms for the band, myself, and Hank, my room didn’t take. So I was relegated to the bus the first night on the road.
Wonderful.
Now, we were on our way to Birmingham, Alabama. I was on the bus with all three of the guys, and it was crowded. I couldn’t work on any schoolwork without Stone poking his nose into my business, Landon kept making the crudest comments he could when he knew I was listening, and Drake kept asking me if I was okay.
It was getting annoying and I was ready for this trip to be over.
All I could hope was that all of the hotel room reservations went through in Birmingham. I couldn’t find any sort of confirmation email for the room I had booked myself, even though Hank had one for his and the band had gotten one for theirs. I was pissed off and ready to blow through the roof. How the hell could this have happened twice?
The guys were loud and smelly, and I couldn’t drown them out. Every time I cranked up my music, they got louder. Every time I took advantage of them sleeping to do some schoolwork, it wasn’t long before someone was asking me some sort of idiotic question.
When Drake got curious, I saw a way in to talking about his drinking.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” he asked.
“A final project for my degree,” I said.
“What’s the class?”
“Intro to Clinical Psychology.”
“You’re taking an introduction course your senior year?” he asked.
“It’s a jumpstart class into a Master’s degree. I won’t b
e platforming into it, but it is a class I’ll need eventually.”
“So you want your own practice or something?”
“With my particular degree and concentration, I want to work at a drug rehab center. You know, to help people with their addictions and stuff.”
There was silence on Drake’s end, and I tilted my head to see what he was doing. But the only thing I saw was him walking back to the guys.
So much for that starting a conversation.
Once we pulled into Birmingham, I had to go with him to his first of two major interviews while on the road. He was moody and pissed off, tired and slightly drunk. I had to babysit him and make sure he didn’t say anything stupid in his interview, which was a task in and of itself.
Because he was all about stupid.
“So, why a mini tour? Why not please your fans all over the nation?” the reporter asked.
“Who said I can’t do that?” Drake asked. “Maybe I’m just doing it in bits and pieces. You know, teasing my audience.”
“Well when is the teasing done?” the reporter asked. “The world wants to know if you’ll add more dates to this tour of yours.”
“There’s plenty of Drake Blackthorn to go around, I promise.”
“I’m sure your fans will be happy to hear that,” the reporter said.
“I hope you will be too, sweetheart.”
I wanted to smack him—for that and every single other fucking innuendo he spewed in that interview. I sat there like a bump on a log, holding up plausible answers to his questions so he didn’t look like an asshole. But instead, he read my answers, grinned at me, and then spewed his own womanizing bile all over the pretty little brunette reporter.
I wrangled him to the show, not speaking to him once between the interview and the set-up time. I had to talk with the venue guy to make sure the band members had everything they needed for their pre-show rituals. I saw a few giggling girls make their way backstage as Stone held out his arms to him and I rolled my eyes.
It fucking figured they would have girls right before the show.