by Emily Snow
“Morning, Montana.” I sighed.
“Where’re you going so early?”
I shrugged. “I thought I’d go catch some coffee and breakfast somewhere or something. Why are you up so early?”
He shrugged. “Had to kick a broad out.” I rolled my eyes. “Just kidding. I was hot. Couldn’t go back to sleep.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking me over. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out with someone other than the band, though.” He stepped around me to get into the bathroom and spit into the sink. He rinsed out his mouth and the sink and then turned to face me. “Mind if I come with you?”
“Sure, why not?”
He raised an eyebrow, his right cheek lifting to form a smirk. “You don’t sound so thrilled.”
I sighed, dropping my things on the counter. “It’s called sarcasm. Since girls are always throwing themselves all over you guys, you probably haven’t heard it directed toward you in a while.”
“Are you always this feisty in the morning?” he asked, pressing his palms on the walls outside the door and leaning in. “It’s kinda hot. You’re hot.” He winked, smirking charismatically.
“I’ll see you after I’m done, Montana.”
I slammed the door in his face and he laughed behind it. After I showered, I wrung my hair out and then wiped the fog from the mirror. I stared at myself, the spitting image of my mother—oval-shaped face, button nose, soft, crystal-like blue eyes, naturally full lips. Sometimes I wondered where she was or what she might’ve been doing. I wondered if she’d gotten better over the years. It sucked knowing what she’d done to me, but oh well. I couldn’t do much about it.
I rushed for my room before anyone could see me and locked the door behind me. I couldn’t afford to have anyone getting a glimpse of my tits by accident. It seemed like a pretty warm day so I went with letting my hair air-dry. I grabbed a turquoise blouse Ben bought for me, some light-blue skinny jeans, and then a pair of jeweled sandals to add a little spunk. I guess I wasn’t so bad at making myself look presentable.
I checked the wall mirror, sort of excited about my appearance. Ben had great taste, and the outfit was really hot on me. I had to give him some credit for making me look more like a lady than a little girl. We’d made a deal that as long as I was comfortable in the clothes, I would wear them. Of course, with the club dress he bought, I had no choice. I could’ve gone with what I’d worn at the show, but I felt it was too simple for a club. I didn’t want to look like too much of a fool. I had to fit in somehow.
After scrambling through my suitcases for my wallet, grabbing my camera and my new sunglasses, I headed out of the room, ready to take on a new day.
Montana was already sitting on the couch, fully dressed in a tight vintage-green T-shirt, skinny jeans, and black boots. He didn’t really do much with his mohawk, not that it looked bad. There were just a few loose blond pieces hanging on his forehead and the nape of his neck.
“Do you know what’s around here?” I asked.
He looked up quickly and then stood. “Nope, but we have a driver with a GPS. We’ll find something.”
Nodding, I turned for the door and stepped out. It was blazing outside. I looked up and no clouds were around, only the sun. I placed my sunglasses over my eyes and Montana came out, his sunglasses in hand, too. He shielded his eyes as well, and then looked toward the black Escalade parked on the curb.
The driver was on the phone as we approached and as soon as he saw Montana and me getting closer, he yelled something into the phone and then pulled it from his ear, ending the call.
“Arguing with the ol’ lady, huh, Stan?” Montana asked.
“Nah.” Stan sighed, stepping around the car to get to the back door. He opened it for us and I climbed in first. Montana climbed in and shut the door behind him. Stan hopped in quickly with a heavier sigh. “Okay, I lied. It’s the wife. She’s annoying the hell out of me.”
“What’d she do?” Montana asked.
“Just nagging. Obviously in need of some good ol’ Stan. No worries.” He grunted, sitting forward and starting the car. “As soon as I get back home, her nagging’ll stop. She just misses Big Papa, that’s all.”
Montana laughed and rolled down his window. I couldn’t help but giggle. “Keep telling that to yourself, Stan.”
Stan was a round man with an evident beer belly and a bald head beneath his black chauffeur’s hat. He had a meaty neck, but he had kind brown eyes, which made him seem friendlier than anything. To top it all off, he was funny and I automatically knew he was a big teddy bear who probably tried to act tough whenever his wife wasn’t around. I was certain when he was alone with her, he did anything for her in a heartbeat. He just seemed like the type of guy who would kiss his woman’s toes if she asked him to.
Stan looked over his shoulder. “Where to?”
“Just take us to the nearest diner, if you can,” I inquired.
“You got it. I actually know of a place that’s really close. They serve the best damn waffles and eggs I’ve ever had. The waffles aren’t too crisp or too fluffy. They’re just right. I’m tellin’ ya.”
Montana chuckled again, staring out the window. I couldn’t help but laugh as well. Stan was a cool guy. I wanted him to be my driver instead of Marco’s perverted ass.
It took us about ten minutes to get to the diner. It was pretty old-fashioned, small, but seemed really comfortable and welcoming. As soon as we stepped inside, a woman with grey hair smiled at us from the counter. Her lips were smothered with pink lipstick and her makeup was a bit dramatic for her age.
“It’s you!” she squealed, rushing in our direction.
I looked up at Montana with a face full of confusion and he frowned at the lady before looking down at me and shaking his head. “Trust me, I do not get that drunk.”
She continued rushing our way, but then I saw she wasn’t coming for us. She was going for Stan, who was trailing in behind us. “Hey!” Stan boomed from the door. Montana and I took a step to the side as they hugged.
“What brings you back to Houston?” the woman asked, grinning up at him.
“On the road again, as usual. Got a few rockers on tour and I’m one of the drivers.”
“Aw, ain’t that nice.” The woman patted Stan’s belly and then looked in our direction. “Well, let’s go fill you on up, then.”
I figured out during our chat at the bar that the woman’s name was Marceline. She and Stan were like siblings because Stan lived in Houston, Texas, for two years. He’d even worked at the diner with her as a chef for a short period of time.
I ordered the house famous waffles and scrambled eggs Stan mentioned and I admit he was right. The food was phenomenal, the coffee was perfect, and to top it all off, Marceline and the staff were extremely kind.
“Do you guys mind if I snap a few pictures of you?” I asked, pulling the strap of my camera over my head. “I just—I have a thing where I like to take pictures of my surroundings.”
“Of course, dear,” Marceline chimed, waving her hand at me. “I’m all up for makin’ memories.”
“Just make sure you don’t drool all over the sight of me in that pic later,” Montana teased, standing from his barstool. I rolled my eyes playfully and he laughed, standing on the right side of Marceline. Stan was on her left.
I snapped a few pictures of them doing a few poses and making funny faces and when I was done, I hooked the strap of my camera around my neck again. Marceline gathered our dishes while she and Stan started talking about the diner and I decided I could find a few more things outside to take pictures of, so as soon as I finished my orange juice I headed out.
“So, are you making a scrapbook or something?” Montana asked as he stepped to my side.
“Something like that.”
He chuckled quietly and I looked up at him. “You’re a really confidential person, you know that? It’s weird because I feel like I’ve been around you long enough to call you a friend, yet I don’t know a sing
le thing about you.”
I pursed my lips with a shrug. “I’m not that hard to figure out.”
“You are to Gage,” he said, chuckling.
I was about to smile, but it evaporated immediately as he said Gage’s name. “How am I hard for Gage to figure out?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Gage is a complicated man. He’s one of those guys who likes to get under people’s skin by trying to figure them out completely—girls especially. He calls it a ‘panty dropper thing.’ Trust me, once he’s figured a girl out, he’ll use it as a sweet weapon against them. He’s weird as fuck that way, but I can’t blame him because it works every damn time.”
“I’ll never understand you rockers,” I sighed. I turned around to find something to snap pictures of and he followed after me.
“Look, I don’t want shit to get ugly so I think I should say this now.”
I paused in my tracks, turning to face Montana, who’d placed his sunglasses over his eyes, his face now serious. “What are you talking about?”
“You danced with Deed the night before—at the club. I’m sure it was fun and all, but when Gage is interested in someone, I know it. I can tell. I’ve known Gage for years and he isn’t usually one for talking about a girl repeatedly, but it’s weird how he talks about you. And it’s not in a way that makes it seem like he’s crushing on you or even wants to get in your pants. He’s just met you and for some reason he won’t stop bringing you up.
“Like the night at the club, for instance. We were talking about the girls dancing on us and he’d mentioned that you might have gotten mad at him for it. He also told me he thinks Deed danced with you on purpose since Deed knows he called ‘dibs’ on you. Right after he said something about you, he bailed on us.”
“He didn’t sleep with anyone that night?” I asked, slightly relieved. Of course I tried to hide the relief.
“Nah. He called a ride and went straight to the bus. I’ll be honest here. I think he was upset that you danced with Deed, but of course he wasn’t gonna say it out loud to us… but I could tell.”
I pretended not to care much about what Montana was telling me, but I was kind of glad to hear it. He didn’t sleep with anyone that night. I thought he did since I saw a few girls getting off the FireNine bus the previous morning. I guess there were only two girls for a reason. One for Montana and one for Deed… or maybe two for Montana.
Turning slowly, I looked ahead and tried to find something to take a picture of to distract myself from these mindboggling thoughts of Grendel. Of course, Montana kept bringing it back up.
“What I wanted to say before is if any one of us tries to claim you, it should be Gage. Don’t fuck with Deed. He’s only doing it to get under Gage’s skin.”
“No one’s claiming me,” I said over my shoulder. I bent down to take a picture of a ladybug sitting on a dirty water bottle.
“Just saying.” Montana’s shadow shrugged. “I just hope he doesn’t get too caught up on you—not that you’re a bad girl. I just know he and Deed are supposed to be sort of partners for the tour and Deed can act like a real bitch sometimes when it comes down to going out and shit. The kid hates to be alone for some reason.”
Stan came tumbling out of the diner and I was glad to see he had on his hat and his keys clutched in hand because the conversation between Montana and me was beginning to get a little awkward.
I didn’t want to talk about Gage with him. I didn’t really want to care. On the inside, I was excited as hell. If I would’ve known Gage didn’t sleep with anyone the night we were at the club, I probably wouldn’t have been so rude toward him the morning after. Of course I was still annoyed about him kissing a girl he didn’t know while dating Penelope, but at least it wasn’t me he was hurting. At least, during his whole night, I was somewhere on his mind.
That made me kind of giddy.
IMPORTANT
Ten minutes until the show.
That’s what the men kept yelling backstage, but it had been twenty minutes and no one was singing. The crowd was getting upset that FireNine wasn’t out there pleasing them. The opening act did their part and had to hit the road ASAP.
“Where the hell is Deed? He should have been here an hour ago!” Ben growled through clamped teeth. “I swear if he isn’t here in thirty minutes, he’s getting replaced. It’s only been three days and he’s fucking up already?”
“Ben, I’m sure he’ll be here,” I whispered. “Just calm down.”
There was one side of Ben I didn’t like: his impatient and pissed-off side. He could definitely hold a grudge, which was why I always aimed to be on his good side. He was a bit more emotional than the normal male (for obvious reasons), but he was also about business. When it came down to it, there could be no slacking off, no disappointments. Ben was about his money and he had his reasons to be. After getting robbed of everything, he had to get it back as best as he could. He worked hard for his living.
Ben started pacing as the fans yelled and complained even louder. I think I heard every negative name in the book during our wait. “If we don’t start in two minutes, the show will have to be cancelled and we’ll have to give these people their money back,” a man with circular glasses and a broom-like moustache said to Ben. Ben nodded and the man walked off quickly with his clipboard and walkie-talkie in hand. As soon as Ben stopped pacing, the back door swung open.
In came Deed with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He had on a black T-shirt with the FireNine logo printed in bright orange. His hair was gelled and spiked in a few places, but his face was hard, edgy. A tall man followed in behind him, his face harder than granite. He had salt-and-pepper hair, his face was clean, and he wore a suit, proving he was about nothing but business. Neither one of them were smiling as they met up with us.
“Found him,” the man in the suit said, glaring at Deed.
“Sorry I’m late, Ben. I can explain later,” Deed muttered.
“Oh, you better explain later. Right now you all need to get your asses on that stage and please this damn crowd.” Ben clapped his hands and the boys gathered their instruments.
“Deed, what the fuck happened?” Montana hissed at him.
“Nothing.” Deed stole a glance over his shoulder at the man in the suit who’d just slid his fingertips into his front pockets. He was staring at Deed the entire time and it was making my skin crawl. It wasn’t a normal stare. It was almost like an “I’ll fuck you up” stare.
The boys stopped asking questions, shaking their heads as they marched for the stage. The crowd was still yelling and beyond impatient, even when the boys were getting set up. But then Gage leaned into the microphone and his voice filled the arena.
“Good evening, Texas,” Gage said, gripping the microphone with both hands. The crowd stopped ranting and went wild. There were some yelling, “I love you, Gage!” and others yelling madly over Montana, who’d winked and blew an air-kiss at the crowd, strapping his guitar around him. “There was a bit of an issue backstage, but it’s nothing we couldn’t handle. Shit happens, right?” The crowd hollered again, maybe louder this time, and I bit on a smile as he watched them with cheerful eyes, grinning widely. “We’ve got to make it up to you somehow, so I figured we could sing one of our newest songs. It hasn’t even been recorded in the studio yet, but you deserve it for sticking around.”
“What the hell is he doing?” Ben snapped, his hand on his chin. His foot was tapping and anger still had a hold of him, but I placed a hand on his arm, shaking my head.
“Ben, you’ve got to calm down. Gage is smart. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
“This song,” Gage said, his deep, bedroom voice echoing across the large arena and making the center of my legs clench, “is one we thought of while sitting in the garage. The title is ‘Promised Me.’ Sounds cheesy—we know.” Gage chuckled, shaking his head. “But the lyrics make up for it.”
Gage looked over his shoulder at his band brothers and they nodded, ready to
play. Deed did a quick countdown with his drumsticks and the music blared. The crowd went wild as Gage strummed his guitar, singing into his microphone. His eyes lowered and he leaned forward, winking, singing, his fingers moving rapidly along the strings. With a few words, he’d pucker his lips and I’d melt on the inside, craving another low, deep note of his voice.
“I can’t believe it,” Ben said, smiling. “It’s the song they were practicing in my garage. They said they weren’t going to sing it for another few months!”
“It’s getting a great reaction!” I yelled over the music.
“A very great reaction,” Ben said, rubbing his hands together. “Terri!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Terri, a short guy with a large nose, square glasses, and cropped black hair, hustled his way forward to get to Ben’s side. “You’ve got to record the performance. I’m sure Luke will love to hear this one.”
“Yes, sir.” Terri dashed away but returned in less than a minute, fidgeting with a video camera. My attention turned to Gage singing exquisitely. He’d dropped his guitar to wrap his fingers around the microphone. His eyes shut and as the boys slowed down the beat, his voice came out powerfully. He was giving it his all.
…You promised me
You’d let it all go.
You swore to put me first,
But all I got was your worst.
So where the hell are you?
What the hell are we?
I needed you with me,
But you continuously destroyed me.
You promised meeee… so much.
The lyrics were heart aching, incredible, but I questioned where they came from. Had Gage been in love before? He mentioned to me that he wrote most of the lyrics. I was sure this song was his as well.
There was a lot about Gage that left me curious. I asked myself more and more questions about him each day. He had more within him that he wasn’t showing and I couldn’t help but think there was a reason behind it all. What was he hiding?