But someone was pounding on her door, which meant a delay in the “Justine gets comatose” plan. The identity of her unwelcome invader didn’t surprise her in the least.
“Justine! Open up! We’re going out!”
Ash.
She scowled as she stomped towards the door. A week on the road with him had taught her many things. He was fun, wild, crazy, a walking good time. He was also spoiled, reckless, self-centered, and right now, a huge pain in the ass.
“Ash,” she snapped as she opened the door. “I’m not going anywhere tonight except straight to bed.”
Ash and Dillon stood outside her door. Ash leaned forward with a comical leer. “Wow. I am totally on board with that plan, Princess.”
She planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back with a dismissive snort. “Alone.”
“Uh-uh, my queen,” he said, snagging her hand and tugging her forward. “Dillon’s got the lead on some awesome local music and we’re going to go find it.”
“Guys, I’m so tired.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead. Now get your shoes on, Angel, because I don’t want to carry you all the way there.”
Justine cast a pleading look at Dillon. He smiled, lacking all of Ash’s over-the-top charm, but having a thousand times more pull on her. “This band is supposed to rock. You should come.”
The one thing that could convince her to leave the sweet allure of a quiet room and a soft bed was Dillon. She cast one more longing look back over her shoulder at the hotel room before Dillon drove the final nail into her coffin.
“Come on, Justine,” he said quietly. “I really want you to come with us.”
She groaned, hating her weakness where he was concerned, but also recognizing when resistance was futile. “I need my shoes. And a jacket. And you assholes are buying all my drinks.”
“It would be our honor, Sweetness,” Ash said, pressing his hand to his chest. Dillon snickered.
“Thanks for coming,” he told her. “I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
Thinking she would be very likely sorry tomorrow, she turned to find her shoes.
One of the local crew had pointed Dillon towards the best bars for local music, and told him about one place and one band in particular he shouldn’t miss, so they headed there first. Downtown Louisville was pretty unremarkable and at nine pm, mostly deserted. Justine doubted there was any live music scene at all, never mind one worth giving up her date with her bed. Ash and Dillon entertained her the whole way, though, so eventually her bad mood improved.
Their deep connection to each other was clear, now that she was spending so much time with them. Ash was by far more talkative and outgoing. Most of the time, Dillon hung back and just watched him. A casual observer might think Ash didn’t even need him there. But Justine had seen him turn to Dillon in quiet moments, asking his opinion on everything from small things, like which number to sing for the encore to major ones, like what they should do about Japanese distribution rights. And when Dillon talked, Ash listened. That was, unless Dillon was telling him to slow down or take it easy. Then Ash didn’t listen to anyone. He charged through life like he had something to prove. Like his only mission was to suck every last dreg of enjoyment from his stardom now that he had it. Justine suspected he’d had no impulse control when he and Dillon were sleeping on bare mattresses in a crummy Hollywood apartment. Now that the world was his oyster, nothing would slow him down.
Sometimes Dillon attempted to rein him in, to get him to say no to one more drink, one more line of blow, one more girl. But unfortunately not too often. Mostly he watched him with those all-knowing eyes and, much to Justine’s sadness, he tried to keep up. Dillon liked to party as much as the next guy on the road, but Ash’s hedonism wasn’t a natural fit for him. Justine could see it every night. But it didn’t stop him from trying. His place was at Ash’s side, no matter where Ash went.
After a few wrong turns and a lot of laughing, they found the hole-in-the-wall bar they’d been looking for.
“This place?” Ash asked, looking at the plain storefront.
“We’ve played venues way worse than this,” Dillon said, snagging his sleeve and dragging him in. There was no cover charge. It was just a small dark bar filled with people watching the three man band under the lights at the far end. Ash disappeared into the crowd to get their beers.
“Come on, let’s move up,” Dillon murmured, absently reaching back for her hand. She let him tug her through the crowd until they found a clear spot near the front on the right, against the wall. Dillon kept his eyes on the band, but he angled his body towards Justine, shielding her a little from the crowd around them.
He was an immense distraction, standing so close to her, so warm after the cold walk over, and smelling so good, freshly-showered and minty. She forced her eyes away from his shoulders, broad under his leather jacket, and the strong edge of his jaw above the smooth curve of his neck.
He was right— the music was good. For a little three-man set up, they had a huge sound. Kind of bluesy and a little folk, but with a great rock feel underneath it. In a few minutes they beat even the allure of Dillon. She found herself swept up in the set, swaying in place with the music. Ash rejoined them, but hovered at the back. Dillon stayed put at her side, seeming to enjoy the music as much as she was. After one song, as she applauded along with the rest of the bar, she looked over at him just as he looked at her. He flashed her a smile so wide, so genuine, she felt it hit her square in the chest, almost a physical impact. They shared a connection through music, but what Dillon did to her was so much more. And sometimes, when he smiled at her like that, it was almost like he felt the same way.
At the set break, they shifted to talk with Ash. He liked the band, too, but wasn’t as enthralled as Dillon and Justine. Ash always preferred to people-watch anyway. Justine leaned against the wall, sipping her beer, while Dillon talked about the songs they’d just heard and Ash listened, nodding, his eyes scanning the crowd.
A group of three girls, maybe in their twenties, walked past on the way to the bathroom, laughing and talking. One locked eyes with Ash and smiled.
“Evening, ladies,” he murmured in his oh-so-distinctive purr. The girl stopped and turned to look at him.
“Oh God. Are you Ash Thoren?”
He smiled that rakish shark smile of his, showing all his teeth. “That I am.”
All three girls squealed collectively. They were ordinary looking, dressed up in their best for their night out on the town in this boring mid-sized city. Running into Ash was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to them in months.
“We have tickets to see you tomorrow night!” the tall brunette shrieked.
“Well, well, well. I hope you girls like the show.” Ash was enjoying himself. Justine wondered at it. He had so much attention, so much adulation all the time, but it was never quite enough. He always wanted more.
Justine elbowed Dillon and smirked. “Show off.”
He chuckled and for a moment, it felt good. Let Ash grandstand for the girls, like it mattered. When the music started up, Dillon would turn to her. She was the one to share it with him.
“Oh!” the little curly-haired blond gasped with her hand over her mouth. “You’re in Outlaw Rovers, too! I remember you from the video!”
Ash reached out and slung an arm around Dillon’s neck. “This genius is the band. This is Dillon.”
“I love that name,” the petite blond said, reaching out to touch his arm. Dillon glanced down at her hand, still lingering on his forearm and smiled. Justine felt it then, the flash of emotion she didn’t want to name. Jealousy. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want to feel this way about a random girl who meant nothing to her, or to any of them. She didn’t want to feel this way about him, her friend. She was attracted to him, she couldn’t help it. But if it grew into more, if she started wanting him… then Emily was right. It would crush her heart.
Except watching this girl run her tacky ma
nicured nails down his arm, wrap her fingers around his wrist, watching him smile and flirt back, she knew it was too late. She wanted him for herself. She’d never have him, but the wanting had already dug its way into her heart, unleashing a potential river of hurt and jealousy in its wake.
She stood off to the side for a few minutes, watching it unfold. Ash invited the girls to come back stage the following night while they laughed and preened for both of them. The girls told them about bars and clubs in town the guys just had to check out. Justine shifted from foot to foot, trying not to pay attention, but finding nothing to distract her. She was tired, and she was rapidly becoming miserable.
“Hey guys,” she interjected. “I’m really beat. You stay for the second set. I’m going back to the hotel to crash.”
She watched three pairs of female eyes swivel to her, finally noticing she was standing there and registering her as a potential rival. Except she was no rival to any of them, not really. It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much. It turned her mood more sour. She didn’t wait for a reply before turning away.
Dillon broke away first. “Hey, wait.” He caught up to her quickly and snagged her arm. “Why are you leaving?”
“You guys have plenty of company. Just stay.”
Dillon shook his head. “Them? They’re just some girls.”
Girls who would probably tag along with the guys all night. Girls who would probably show up backstage tomorrow. One of these girls would probably sleep with Dillon before they left town. The thought made her sick and her own weakness made it worse.
“Look, we’ll get rid of them,” Dillon said in a low voice. “We want you with us tonight. We asked you.”
Justine peered up into his face, trying to parse his words. “We want you.” Did it mean he did? Or was she just a new playmate, this month’s novelty? Over his shoulder, she saw Ash already disengaging from the girls, trying to join them. The girls wandered away towards the bathroom, casting one or two curious glances back over their shoulders.
She blew out a breath, trying to get her head on straight. Her feelings were her problem, her issue to deal with. Still, she could make it easier on herself. “Look, new ground rule. When you hang out with me, no groupies, got it?”
Ash and Dillon both looked startled. She pressed on, trying to sound self-possessed, confident, strong. All the things she wasn’t right now. “I don’t want to spend my nights catching stink eye from a bunch of bimbos. Do it on your own time.”
Ash nodded. “Understood, my queen. Only you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be anybody’s queen. I just don’t want to deal with it.”
“Got it,” Dillon said. “I’m sorry, Justine.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. It’s your life. Just leave me out of that part of it, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay. Now will you stay?”
“Come on, sweetness,” Ash said, snagging her hand and pulling her up against his chest in a clumsy approximation of a waltz. “You look cold. Let me buy you a drink and warm you up.”
“Ash,” Dillon snapped, voice low. Ash hiked an eyebrow at him, but released her.
“Right. New ground rules all around, I guess,” he muttered.
Ground rules, Justine thought ruefully. So she could keep Dillon from picking up girls in front of her, but she herself was apparently off-limits. Like a little sister or a mascot. She wanted to cry. Still, she knew when the band started playing again, she was the one Dillon would look for. She was the one he wanted to share it with. Maybe it wasn’t everything she hoped for, but for now, it was enough.
March, 2008
The air was thick with smoke. Cigarette and other kinds, too. The lights were turned low and there were people everywhere. There were always so many people backstage after the show. Justine didn’t know who most of them were and how they managed to get in. How did so many people have access to them?
At the edges of the crazy scene that was life on the road, she sensed a shady network of managers, road crew and security guys, orchestrating these parties after shows. There were always plenty of girls and they were always pretty. There were always friendly guys with lots of drugs. Every city was the same.
Justine pushed off the wall, heading to the green room, even though she wasn’t sure why. Everybody else seemed to be having a good time. She wanted to have one, too. The problem was, how? Nothing back here seemed to fit. The walls seemed to flex slightly as she made her way down the hall, proving she wasn’t entirely sober herself. She’d had a few drinks earlier, and then there was all the smoke. It was hard not to get stoned just breathing the air.
Faces loomed out of the gloom and receded. Some she knew. Rocky smiled at her and reached out to squeeze her shoulder as she passed. She liked Rocky. He was such a solid guy, always up for a good talk during those endless hours in the bus or backstage.
She passed Paolo, head together in conversation with some guy she didn’t know, but he didn’t notice her. There was Eric, the road manager, talking to Eddie and JD. Eric had a thankless job corralling this crew. She didn’t envy him.
She paused at the door to the green room. The lights were lower, the haze thicker. This is where the real party happened. Well, at least for now. Later people would start disappearing into the dressing rooms or to the bus or maybe to the hotel, and that’s when it got intense. She never stuck around then. Across the room, she was surprised to see David. He hardly ever partied after the show.
David showed up promptly for sound checks and call times. He played solid sets and didn’t make a fuss for special treatment. But he refused to hang out with anyone from Outlaw Rovers and wouldn’t hang out with his own band if Outlaw was there, too. It caused a little tension, since the guys from Outlaw knew they were being snubbed when they’d gone out of their way to bring Failsafe on the road with them. Eddie and Paolo were good sports and had become friendly with all the Outlaw guys, and Justine was almost always with Ash and Dillon, so that helped the overall atmosphere, but David was a thorn in everyone’s side.
Justine wasn’t sure why he’d hung around tonight, since he was just sitting in an armchair, not talking to anyone, not even drinking. He certainly didn’t look like he was having any fun.
As she stood in the doorway, he looked up at her with his usual inscrutable expression, but he didn’t say anything so she figured he didn’t want to talk. Anyway, Ash had spotted her and lurched to his feet.
“Hey, beautiful,” he called across the room, gesturing her closer. When she was close enough, he grabbed her hand and twirled her in a little pirouette. “Kick ass show tonight, pretty girl. You were great.”
“Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself, except when that chick got on stage and came at you. You freaked.”
Ash looked stricken. “She had facial hair. I mean, I know I’m a slut, but even sluts have standards.”
Justine laughed. “No you don’t.”
Ash chuckled, too. “No, you’re right. I don’t. What’s your game tonight, Princess?”
Justine shrugged, trying to look around the room for Dillon and not look too obvious about it.
“I don’t know. I just want to relax a little. Have fun.”
“He’s not here,” Ash murmured.
“Who?”
He gave her an exasperated stare. “Your bestie. I mean, he’s here somewhere, just not in here. I don’t know where he got off to.” Ash chuckled and shook his head. “Although I can guess.”
She didn’t miss his implication and she knew exactly what it meant. Dillon had disappeared backstage somewhere with some girl. She ignored the sharp stab of disappointment. It was becoming familiar.
“I never said I was looking for him,” she snapped, flicking her hair back over her shoulder.
Ash laughed again. “Oh really? Were you looking for me? Because I’ll always let you find me, angel.”
She shoved at him as Ash’s gaze darted over her shoulder. “Seems like somebody else is looking fo
r you anyway.”
“Huh? Who?”
Then she felt a light touch on her shoulder.
“Hi, Justine?”
She turned. His name was Ian. At least, she thought so. He was a reporter from some music magazine here to do a feature on Outlaw Rovers. He’d been interviewing them before the show and she’d met him briefly. Through the fog of her inebriation, she examined him closer. He was cute, if you liked the type. Tall, decent body, blond hair, nice blue eyes. English, too, which was delicious. She’d thought she’d caught him checking her out while she passed through the greenroom earlier in the night. Seeing the appreciative expression on his face now confirmed she’d been right.
“Yeah. It’s Ian, right?”
“Right. Hey, you were great tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Truly. The voice, the numbers, you put on a hell of a show.”
“Oh… wow.”
She felt Ash nudge her in the back and resisted the urge to turn around and smack him. He could be such a twelve-year-old boy sometimes. As she was working up some appropriately polite but uninviting response for Ian, she caught herself scanning the room one more time for Dillon. Now she really was angry— at him and at herself. No doubt he was getting a blow job just down the hall as she stood here making small talk with the reporter who’d come to talk to his band.
Ian was still standing there, still smiling that warm, and frankly, very attractive smile. Why not, she wondered? Everybody on the tour was getting debauched and enjoying themselves and she was spending too many hours hanging on the fringes, pretending Dillon’s actions didn’t matter to her. Time to get over that. If it wasn’t going to matter, she needed to make sure it didn’t. And the perfect tall, handsome, English distraction was standing right in front of her.
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