“Except me, because I don’t fucking snore,” Mish said.
“No, you don’t.” Zavier took a pull on his beer. “That is, in fact, Ray’s job for all of us.”
“Hey!” Ray looked indignant, and David couldn’t help laughing.
Mish downed a gulp of Adrian’s whiskey, then chased it with a swallow of beer. “Damn, I needed that.” She snuggled in closer to David. “Need this, too,” she said.
If the others heard, they were polite enough to pretend they hadn’t. Which, David guessed, was bus etiquette. He put his arm around her. Given that Ray was pretty much draped over Zavier, he suspected that was fine.
Zavier gave David a little grin and stroked Ray’s hair.
True to Dom’s words, once the bus was moving and they’d consumed their drinks and babbled for about a half hour, everyone slinked off to their racks. David had thrown his bag on one of the empty berths, figuring that’s where he’d end up. After they’d all gotten changed, Mish pulled him into the lounge in the back and closed the curtain.
“If the curtain’s drawn in the middle of the night, chances are there’s something going down.” She paused. “Or someone.”
“Don’t think I have the energy, darling.”
“I know I don’t.” She did cup his face and kiss him. “I’m glad you’re here, though. It’s—better. As long as it’s okay with you.”
He took her hands from his face and held them in his own. Because he had to be honest with her. “Mish, what’s going on between us is wonderful. Amazing. No idea where it’s going, but I want to see.”
“But?” She had a wry look.
“I’m still here to do a job. To keep you safe. To keep the band safe. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t worried that getting this close, feeling what I do, is gonna get in the way of me staying sharp and keeping you—all of you—out of danger.”
“But?” Her look had softened.
“I’ll be where you need me to be. I can’t help what I feel.” Sometimes he saw years and years when he looked into her eyes. “You want me here. I’m here for you, princess.”
Her next kiss had passion and longing and everything David was afraid to name. He knew what the tumble and lurch in his chest meant. Understood exactly why his soul soared every time Mish touched him.
He was falling in love with his rock queen.
They left the lounge and moved to their respective racks. Not enough room to share one comfortably, though they both eyed Mish’s with the same thought. In the end, David put Marly in her hands. “I think he enjoys you better, anyway.”
She’d laughed and kissed David once more before slipping into her berth.
Once he’d settled in his own rack, he didn’t think he’d fall to sleep given how he was turning the day over and over in his mind, but the sound of the road cut through his mind, slipping him out of his thoughts. That’s all it took for slumber to find him.
* * *
So weird to be in a venue this early for a concert. It wasn’t even noon yet. Mish had already sucked down several cups of Adrian’s coffee in the greenroom and was on another now. Somehow, Adrian had managed to insist that he provide the beans and make the joe, rather than relying on the catering service the venue used. Guess being a big-name band helped smooth over that.
Twisted Wishes had never been obnoxious in their needs, so insisting on their own coffee was probably way low on the Band Diva list.
After the tumult of the day in Boston and the show that’d blown all of them away, they’d played another stellar show in Philadelphia. Now they were between Baltimore and DC for a stop at a music festival, as one of the headlining big-name bands.
Five Asylum was there, too, and that was also strange—to be meeting up with them as equals this time, not as their opening act. On social media, Adrian was all over the two bands meeting again. He’d been strategizing with the woman who was his counterpart, along with Marcella and a man she recognized as Five Asylum’s band manager.
Gregor Daye, Five Asylum’s lead singer, pulled Ray aside for a private chat, and both men returned with smiles, though Gregor’s was more subdued. He also took a cup of Adrian’s coffee—then lobbied to hire Adrian for himself. “What the hell you put into this? And how much do I have to pay you to leave these louts?” It was all said with humor and amusement.
Adrian grinned. “The ingredients are top secret.”
“And he’s mine,” Domino said. “Or I’m his, or whatever.”
“And Dominic is priceless,” Adrian said.
“Oh god.” Gregor mock grimaced. “Aren’t you two stinking cute?”
Mish, though, had kept away from most of the action. Everything felt off. Nothing had happened at the concert in Philly, and both David and Adrian swore up and down that no new messages had come in. Marcella backed them up on that.
“I’d tell you,” David had said. “You know that.”
She did. Adrian might demur, but David wouldn’t lie. Every day they got closer, their relationship firmer, and Mish fell more for the man. If she were honest with herself, she liked that he was there, at her back, watching out for her. Sure, Twisted watched out for each other, but no one had her back like David did.
It should’ve made her relax. But that horrible sensation she’d had during the radio show hadn’t let up. Somewhere out there was a man obsessed with her. She’d heard his voice and still couldn’t place it. Many voices sounded familiar, but this one had made her stomach tumble and her anxiety soar. She shivered in the heat of the day.
Gregor must have noticed, because he sauntered over. “Hey, lady. How’re you doing?”
She wasn’t in the mood to lie, even if Gregor had helped them find a kick-ass lawyer during their scare with Ray. “I’ve been a lot fucking better, to be honest.”
“I heard scuttlebutt about an abusive caller. The shitty assholes will get to you every time.”
She couldn’t help a small smile. “Yeah, well.” She gestured at herself. “Hence the mood.”
“Fucking world. You play harder and better than pretty much all the men out here, and you get crap for it.” He grunted. “And here I am telling you what you already know.”
His words unlocked something in her chest and lifted her spirits. “That acknowledgment is nice. Thanks, Gregor.” Mish held out her hand, and he clasped it and pulled her into one of those backslap hugs she’d seen him give other band members.
At least some folks treated her like an equal and not a piece of meat or a porcelain doll.
“You take care, Mish. And don’t let the jackasses get you down, as my grandpap used to say.”
She laughed. “He give you any advice on how to handle them?”
“Oh yeah, but I don’t recommend what he said to anyone.” He shook his head. “Pappy’s advice consisted of a shotgun, the backwoods, and the fear of god.”
She couldn’t help her bark of laughter. “Yeah, not my style.” Even though a part of her wanted to strangle the unknown dude.
Gregor gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We gotta get ready, but we’re gonna watch you play, for old times’ sake.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I hope we still live up to the hype.”
“Of course you guys do.”
He and Five Asylum filtered out, and Twisted Wishes got down to business. There was no fan encounter at this event—no time between their warmups, sound checks, dressing, the show, and all the other acts. Plus the general chaos of the festival crowd was intense enough without all the extra bits.
Juggling all the sets and bands and sound checks was hard on the techs and venue staff, yet somehow the crews made it work. Twisted Wishes went on for their sound checks at about the time they’d been told to be ready, got off when asked, and managed to be dressed to play their abbreviated set when they were supposed to. The concert even started reasonably on time.
The vibe of the afternoon crowd went a long way to settling Mish’s nerves. The throb of the audience, the vibrations of their instruments magnified by the huge speakers. The music played down in her bones. Zavier’s drumming, Domino’s screaming guitar, and Ray’s voice were inside her, part of her movements and her own soul.
Wasn’t anything better than being on stage. Not a fucking thing in the world. She danced and played with Domino, sang with Ray, and flirted with Zavier, and her heart soared. Unfettered, she was giddy with excitement and pleasure.
Music relaxed her more than sex did, though it was a close contest—both were intense. But when it came to playing in front of fans in tears because Twisted Wishes was there, right in front of them—that was something she never wanted to get used to. That was love.
They gave the fans joy and pain and anger and hope, all tossed out on a messy but perfect string of notes and beats, twined around Ray’s words and his voice, and then it was all thrown back at them, through screams and singing and the sparkling of tears and sweat and smiles on a sea of faces. Love returned in outstretched hands and shouts of their names.
What could be better than that?
In the moment when they’d finished playing “Lightning” and before they launched into “White Hot Midnight,” Mish spied David in his black T-shirt and jeans, a smile on his face and his gaze fixed on her as if she were the only one that mattered in the universe.
That look wasn’t part of his job at all. Mish’s chest ached even as her heart screamed upward like the opening notes of Domino’s guitar. She closed her eyes and let her fingers and her bass answer what she’d seen in David’s eyes.
The hope and fear there. The love neither of them wanted to admit they felt.
Mish looked over to Ray, then spun close to the mic to lend her voice to his. This was the way she knew to express how she felt. Note by note, song by song. She hoped David understood, that he got it.
Mish always performed her best for the fans. They were Twisted Wishes’s lifeblood. But today, she played for David. For their unknown future and their simmering present.
Ray must have noticed, because he gave her such a look when they finished, but there was no time to probe. Zavier led them directly into the next song.
Mish threw her heart and soul into that one, too, and the next, until the end, when the crowd screamed and she tossed her pick and blew Adrian a kiss before disappearing back behind the stage with the band.
Mish was a live wire who desperately wanted privacy, David, and a good fuck. She made do with water to quench her thirst.
As the adrenaline and joy wore off, the tightness in her body and mind returned, that unsafe feeling, and that voice—that damn voice over that damned phone line.
“Fuck,” she said under her breath. Thankfully, no one heard.
She went about changing and cleaning herself up enough to head back to the bus. Ray perched on a rotating stool and spun himself around. “We should go out tonight. There’s that club we can get into now, and I hear it’s karaoke night.”
Adrian held up his hands. “Not it this time!”
Mish said nothing. Usually she loved going out, wanted to tonight. But her mood was tanking fast. ’Cause she’d have to figure out what to wear, and what if that got her another call at another radio station or another email or...
This time, the fuck came out louder.
“Mish?” Ray stood and crossed the room.
She held up a hand. “Sorry, kiddo. I’m—thinking too much.”
“We can nix the idea. Not gonna leave you out of anything.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.
There it was, the other issue. Her problems trickling out to the others. “No, the club sounds great. I want to go. I—god. I’m a mess.”
“You’re not.” He glanced at Zavier, and something seemed to pass between them. Those two were so often in sync. Ray focused on Mish again. “Not any more than the rest of us.”
Yeah, they’d all had their moments, but she hated spinning out of control. Then again, Ray’d been at that point not so long ago. “Let’s go. I can do this.”
Ray nodded, and over his shoulder, Zavier slipped out the door. “You change your mind, let us know? We’ve got your back.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.”
They all did. All the important people in her life. Still, Mish felt like she was letting everyone down by not being able to shove this shithead situation into the back of her mind and enjoy their rise to fame and the love of their fans.
And David. Then again, she wouldn’t have known David if not for the shithead.
Mish rubbed her forehead and got back to cleaning herself up. She’d go. Find an outfit that wasn’t...so fucking controversial, or maybe throw every caution to the wind. She could do this. Even if she hated the thought of stepping out into public right now.
Chapter Seventeen
David was surprised when Zavier tracked him down after the show. He’d stayed to watch Two Times Strong, and also to recover from the dizzying effect of watching Mish with Twisted Wishes. He’d okayed it with Ray and Marcella—security was so tight even he, with a freaking crew badge and all-access pass and the right damn colored bracelet, had a hard time getting backstage.
He downed half a bottle of water he’d claimed from security and upbraided himself for becoming so distracted during the show. He had to stop watching her on stage, because doing so wasn’t going to let him see any threat to her should one appear. He was consumed by Mish and the band when they performed, like everyone else in the audience.
But sometime after Twisted Wishes left and before Two Times Strong came on stage, Zavier slipped out from backstage and wandered up the aisle toward David like he wasn’t a fucking big-name rock star.
Fans stopped in their tracks. Venue security did a double take.
David met him halfway down the aisle. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice pitched up a notch, which should have annoyed him, but didn’t because fucking Zavier Demos was walking around in public at a music festival and he was going to start a riot.
“I came to talk to you.” Zavier’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but his smile was full of that devilish charm he was known for.
“You can’t just—” David gestured with his hands. “You’ll start a scene.”
“Nah.” He clapped David on the shoulder. “I’ve got security with me.” Now there was laughter in his voice.
David dropped the volume of his own. “Oh, fuck you.” Didn’t put any heat into it.
“Not your type, I think. Besides, turns out with Ray I’m hopelessly monogamous, which is a strange thing, indeed.”
That was a train of thought David decided not to follow. He led Zavier up to the soundboard—there were techs there, but also added guards who would keep fans away. They moved away from the techs so no one could overhear, especially with the music that was playing from the pavilion speakers.
“So why are you risking life and limb and your husband’s ire to come talk to me?”
“I enjoy causing a little shock and awe once in a while,” Zavier murmured. “And Ray asked me to find you.”
David’s heart dropped to the ground. “Did something happen to Mish?”
Zavier held up both hands and his expression fell open. “No! Nothing!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve thought about how that might sound, rather than playing Mr. Obnoxiously Cool.”
David laughed, part in humor, mostly in relief. “Well, you play the part very well.” He dusted his hands on his thighs. “So what do you need from me?”
That earned him a rueful smile. “We—the band—were thinking about going out tonight. To a club. Blow off a little steam.”
God, a club could be a nightmare. “What kind of club are we talking? Logistics-wise...that could be an issue.”
“I�
��m not—we’re not asking for you to be security. It’s a well-known place.” He rattled off a name, and yeah, it was. “And they’re known for their security and we certainly wouldn’t be the first names to drop in.”
David rubbed his chin. “Or even the most famous.”
Zavier shrugged in acknowledgement. “Truth.”
“So if not security, what do you need from me?”
In a rare moment, Zavier looked sheepish. He even slipped off his sunglasses before answering. “To talk Mish into going.”
A thousand thoughts bumped off each other in David’s mind. He grasped at the most important one. “Zavier, if Mish doesn’t want to go, I’m not going to coerce her.”
Once more Zavier held up his hands. “It’s not like that. She’s...” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Mish is fine on stage. Playing. On the bus, because you’ve been there. But Ray and Dom are worried, and so am I.”
“So you want to make her go to a club.” David knew his voice was flat, and his temper was showing. These three should know better.
For his part, Zavier looked damn uncomfortable. “I’m not explaining this well.”
“Which is unusual for you.” Zavier knew what he wanted, and said what he meant. “So try again?”
He met David’s gaze, and his blue eyes had more than a hint of concern in them. “I’m worried about her. Deeply. That makes me less precise.” He seemed to chew on some words before continuing. “Mish wants to go to the club. We decided as a band, like we do with everything. But she’s worried about the publicity, her mood, the next show, what to wear. Everything.” He spread out his hands. “The very idea is stressing her out, and the whole point of going is to relax. When Ray offered to nix the idea, she insisted we should all go. But...it’s also obvious she’s not happy about it.”
Okay, so he had an idea of what Zavier and Ray were asking of him. “You want me to help Mish unwind at the club. Give her a reason to go.”
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