Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2)

by Martin, R. C.

  “Six weeks will come and go before you know it,” says Lindsey, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I nod, a part of me hoping that she’s right. However, there’s another part of me that hopes that she’s wrong. I know what this tour means to him. What it means to all of them. I hope they soak it up for all that it’s worth and that it doesn’t go by so fast that they miss it.

  “Have you guys talked about you meeting up with him while he’s gone? I mean, we have fall break around Thanksgiving. You totally could.”

  “You’re right,” I mutter, appalled that the thought never crossed my mind before. “I think they’ll be on the West Coast by then. I’d have to double check.”

  “See? That would be perfect! You weren’t planning on going back to New Jersey for the holiday, were you?”

  “No. Definitely not.” Hearing her speak of New Jersey makes me think of my mother. Suddenly in need of a distraction, I resume gathering my belongings.

  I haven’t heard from my mother for three weeks. Every Saturday, I wonder if she’ll call. I wonder if I should. Every Saturday, she doesn’t and I don’t. I really thought that she would recant her threat of being done with me. After all she’s said and done to get it through my head that she is my only constant—that every man in the world is unworthy of affection because he will end up breaking my heart—it’s hard to believe that she would discard me.

  Most days, I don’t consider it a loss.

  “Well, now that I’ve planted that little idea into your head, I suppose I should let you go. You have a night out to prepare for. I’ll be expecting details on Monday. And if you happen to come back with anything signed by the lead guitarist from Lawful Sinners, I would be willing to accept it as an early Christmas present,” she says with a wink.

  “Noted,” I chuckle.

  “Have fun, Millie.” She parts with a wave and I watch her leave before gathering the rest of my things and heading for home.

  I arrive just after four with enough time for a quick clothing change and a moment to retouch my face. Thankfully, I picked my outfit earlier this morning before leaving for work. With November right around the corner, the air is starting to smell like chimney fire. I expect we’ll get our first little snow any day now. That being said, I’ve had to come up with more subtle ways to show off the legs that Sage admires so much. Tonight, I’ll be wearing a pair of black sequin leggings, along with a clingy, long-sleeved, black midriff sweater. The small bit of skin that’s left on display between the two items is just enough to tease my dreamer. I finish the ensemble with my yellow envelope purse and a pair of electric blue heels.

  I choose the heels as a sort of good luck for Sage. He doesn’t know it, but I do and that’s enough. He doesn’t need luck. Not with his talent. But the blue of the shoe reminds me of the first time I ever heard him sing. He burns so hot up on that stage…

  I shake the thought away, knowing I don’t have time to be distracted by my daydreams. Instead, I rush to the bathroom and apply a fresh coat of mascara before running a brush through my hair. I gather it to one shoulder, allowing it to drape down my chest, and decide that for tonight—it’ll have to do. I take one step into the hallway just as a knock sounds at my door. Knowing who it is, I don’t waste a moment closing the distance between me and him.

  The second I open the door, my mouth begins to water.

  He’s sexier than any man I’ve ever seen on the front of any magazine.

  He’s in his favorite pair of Converse—the red ones. He’s got on dark wash jeans, and a white graphic t-shirt under a black leather jacket. The black beanie that slouches off the back of his head hides most of his hair, but leaves just enough out that I want to run my fingers through it.

  And of course, he’s wearing those glasses.

  Fuck, those stupid things turn me on.

  “Hey, doll face. You look hot,” he says, stepping toward me.

  “You, too,” I manage before his lips are pressed firmly against mine. I reach up and grab a fistful of his t-shirt, needing air but too desperate for this kiss to take a breath.

  He slides his hand over my backside, drawing me close as he pulls his mouth from mine. “You ready to jet? We have to go.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” He kisses me once more. “Lock up.”

  We step into the hallway and I turn to close and lock the door. As I do so, his hand doesn’t leave my body. He slips a finger under the hem of my sweater, tracing his way from my side to my back. I take a breath, reminding myself that I don’t want to love him, and then I turn and offer him a smile.

  “Let’s go.”

  FIGHTING OUR WAY through rush hour on a Friday night is a bitch. It takes us two hours to get to The Fillmore, making us twenty minutes late. When we pull into the parking lot, the guys are more frazzled than I’ve ever seen them. Violet and JJ rode with Sage and me, the rest of their crew riding with Derrick and all of their equipment.

  We pile out of our respective vehicles and immediately make our way to the trailer. Derrick opens it up and we each grab something before hurrying our way through the back entrance. Sage is greeted by a big, burly guy with a bright yellow t-shirt on. He’s obviously a member of the security staff and he eyes each and every one of us warily.

  “You playin’ tonight?” he asks.

  “Yeah. We’re Mountains & Men. Our manager, Stefany, should be inside. She has our passes.”

  I notice as his face softens at the name Stefany, and he nods before waving us inside. Just as the door shuts behind us, Stefany bursts into the hallway.

  “Thank fucking god you’re here!” she cries, clearly relieved.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Derrick mutters. “Traffic was a fucking nightmare.”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” She waves off his explanation and reaches for the bags in Sage’s hands. “Let’s just get you all set up and then I’ll introduce you around. Doors open in a half an hour—show starts an hour after. You know you’re opening up tonight. By the looks of the line that’s already wrapped around the building, I’d wager that’s certainly not a bad thing.”

  “We’re playing at The Fillmore, Stef,” Knox begins with a laugh. “We’d be happy playing for the staff.”

  “Aww. Aren't you guys just the cutest,” she teases before leading us backstage.

  The place is swarming with activity. There are roadies and technicians all over the place, getting things ready and putting the final touches on the stage for the show. After one more trip to the trailer, the guys have everything they need and they busy themselves on stage, setting up their stuff with the help of the staff. Of course, Violet is in the thick of it, as usual, while I stand to the side watching like the useless girlfriend that I am.

  “A chick with an ass like yours should not be left unattended.”

  I turn at the sound of his strange, deep, sultry voice and my eyes widen at the sight of him. He’s a little shorter than Sage, but still taller than me. He’s got wavy jet black hair that falls to his shoulders, and big, brilliant brown eyes full of mischief. He’s sporting a bit of scruff, along with a sly grin, and I have to stop myself from perusing the rest of him. Though, it doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s ripped—I can tell just by the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders.

  “Fuck me, beautiful,” he says, bringing a hand up to his chest. “And yeah—I mean that literally.”

  A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I shake my head at him. Two months ago, if I was on the hunt for a bed fellow, he would definitely have had a chance. Now, he’s just some hot guy wasting his time. I’m not looking for a piece of ass tonight, and I’m not interesting in being a piece of ass, either.

  “No, thank you.”

  His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No, thank you?”

  “I’m sorry—are you having a hard time hearing me? Or do you just find yourself so tempting that you can’t fathom a single reason why I would say no?”

  He chuckles, folding
his bulging arms across his chest as he stares at me. “Feisty, just the way I like ‘em. I might have you singing a different tune after our set.”

  “I doubt it,” I say with a shrug.

  He narrows his eyes, studying me as if I fascinate him. Though, for the life of me, I can’t understand why. Smarter men would have gotten the hint and left me alone by now.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Should I?”

  He barks out a laugh. “Fuck me,” he says with a grin. “And I still mean that literally.” I lift an eyebrow at him, but he’s not discouraged. “You must not be much of a Lawful Sinners fan.”

  “They’re pretty good,” I say with a shrug. “But no, I’m not here for them.” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, it dawns on me that—“Oh, shit. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty. And if you’re not here for the headlining band, it means you’re here for one of the newbies. So who do I need to outplay for you? Twisted Tuesday or Mountains & Men?”

  “Sorry, you don’t stand a chance. I’d like to think of myself as a big Mountains & Men fan. And the lead singer happens to be a big fan of my ass. So, while I may lend you my ear tonight, the only man I’ll be fucking is him.”

  “Ahhh, I see,” he mutters, his grin still firmly in place. “You must be the girlfriend.” I affirm his assumption with a nod and he coughs out a laugh. “Look me up after the tour if you’re in need of a good revenge fuck.”

  I stare at him for a moment, appalled by his statement. Suddenly, this conversation is neither fun nor amusing. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He leans toward me, the mischievous look in his eyes intensified with his close proximity. “It means, six weeks is a long time to keep his dick in his pants, especially with more than a few asses as fine as yours hanging out backstage, like you are now.”

  “I trust him,” I murmur. Though, why I feel the need to inform him is beyond me. I don’t know him. Neither do I care to know him.

  “You might trust him, sweetheart—but it’s the musician inside of all of us that can’t be tamed.” He winks at me as he turns to walk away. “Remember what I said. My offer doesn’t expire, beautiful.”

  WITH THE HELP of the crew, it only takes us twenty minutes to set up. Perfect timing. We’re headed backstage just minutes before the doors open. I walk straight to my girl, who only seconds ago was talking with Clay—the lead guitarist of Lawful Sinners. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t impressed. A smirk curls my lips as to why I recognize the face. It’s how she looked at me the first time we met. Unfortunately for Clay, he won’t have a chance to change her mind. Fortunately for me, I’ve managed to win her over so as never to see that look directed at me again.

  “Hey, baby,” I say, slipping my arm around her waist. “Over here making friends without me?”

  She leans into my side as she shakes her head. “Not really.”

  “Do you even know who that was?”

  “Didn’t catch his name.”

  I can’t help but chuckle before leaning down to kiss her lips. “You’re something else, baby doll.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  “Dweeb, come on!” calls out Derrick.

  I look over Millie and spot him with the rest of our group, waiting on us. I tip my chin in acknowledgement and then take Millie’s hand.

  “Time to meet the guys we’ll be touring with. Come on, doll face.”

  We follow Stefany down a couple narrow hallways until we’re standing in front of a closed door. The sound of music and laughter wafts from the cracks between the hinges and she knocks before inviting herself inside.

  “Stefany. Hey, what’s up—these your boys?”

  Some guy with short curly hair, in slacks and a button up shirt he wears untucked, crosses the large room and reaches for her hand. She accepts his gesture, giving him a firm handshake before she answers his question.

  “Yeah, my boys and girl. Heath, this is Mountains & Men. Mountains & Men, this is Heath. He’s a sucker for Skittles and any book by James Patterson—keep that in mind for if you ever piss him off.”

  “Or just don’t piss me off,” he says with a shrug.

  “I like that plan. I’m Sage, by the way.”

  We all take our turns introducing ourselves and then he nods, indicating that he’d like to introduce us to his guys. Clay, Nate, Gabe and Adrian are chillin’ on a couple couches in the corner, each of them with a beer in hand. Gabe, their lead singer, and Nate, their drummer, each have a girl on their lap, while Adrian, their bassist, seems to be eyeing the chick refilling the beer cooler. Clay doesn’t seem to be interested in any of the available ass in the room, his gaze trained on Millicent.

  Jealous fucker. Better keep his hands to himself. I’ve thrown punches for her before, and I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.

  Millie hugs my arm, sending a message of her own, and my irritation subsides.

  For now.

  “Have a seat. Grab a beer. We’ve got some time to kill,” says Gabe, motioning at the empty chairs scattered around the room. “We heard your EP. You guys are good. Looking forward to hearing more.”

  We all reply with a thank you of sorts, and I know I’m not the only one of us flattered beyond words. I know what I told Alex a couple weeks ago about all of us just being people—and we are, musicians, every one of us. Nevertheless, a compliment from the lead singer of a band with their level of success, it’s certainly nothing to scoff at.

  “Which one of you is on bass?” asks Adrian.

  We all turn and look at Alex whose cheeks burn bright red as she lifts her hand.

  Adrian’s face falls and then the room erupts.

  “Noooo!” Clay cries before he starts laughing, clapping Adrian on the back.

  “Daaaaaaamn!” Nate adds, bringing a fist up to cover his grin.

  “Clearly, we’re missing something here,” JJ says, giving voice to what I’m sure we’re all thinking.

  “You should have heard this guy,” Gabe laughs, hooking his thumb at Adrian. “Would not shut up about that wicked bass solo in—what was it?”

  “Contortion,” Adrian mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck! That was you?”

  Alex shrugs and Derrick reaches over and smacks her arm. “Ow!” she yelps.

  “Stop being such a pussy, Ali.”

  “Yeah,” I pipe in. “Where’s the badass who laid us out the day of her audition?”

  She rolls her eyes but then smiles at me before she squares her shoulders and looks back at Adrian. “Is it my stature or my boobs that make it hard for you to believe I can rock the bass?”

  His shocked expression slowly transforms into one of amusement as a sly smile shifts the features of his face. “Definitely not your stature. Maybe your boobs. But I’ll give you mad props either way. We’ll have to jam while we’re on the road.”

  Her blush returns and she offers him a nod. “Definitely.”

  Twisted Tuesday enters the room—four more guys and a few girls I’d imagine are groupies. They don’t exactly look like the types of girls you’d want to keep, more like glorified bed warmers—but I’m not one to judge.

  More introductions are made and then we spend the next hour shootin’ the shit. We talk music, we swap band stories, and they tell us about life on the road. Twisted Tuesday has toured before—never with Lawful Sinners, and not with a bunch of large venues, but it’s definitely a one up from what we’ve got. When the stage manager pops his head in and announces that we’re on, we waste no time heading out—a few of the guys following behind to watch from the wings.

  I hear the chatter of the crowd before I even get a peek, and my stomach clenches in anxious anticipation. For just a second, I allow myself to get nervous. When I crane my neck in an attempt to get a look at the packed venue, all the air in my lungs rushes out, as if they’ve suddenly collapsed.

  “Holy fucking shit.”

  “We got this, bro,�
�� says Knox. He claps his hands on my shoulders and gives me a squeeze before letting me go. “We’re going to rock the hell out of this set.”

  “Yeah. Yeah—we got this,” I mutter, willing my bravery to resurface.

  “This is it, man,” Maddox cries, smacking his fingers against my cheeks.

  I laugh, because I can’t help myself, and jerk away from his abuse. He’s getting hyped and this is his way of trying to get me there with him. I throw a playful jab to his side and he catches me off guard, pulling me in for a hug.

  “I mean it. This is it, Sage. This is what we’ve been working for since we were a couple of fucking kids who barely knew which way was up. We made it.”

  I hug him back, soaking in the significance of this show. He’s right. It’s been Knox, Maddox, and me since the very beginning—and we’re finally here.

  I pull away from him just as Derrick pats me on the back. When I look at him, he smiles at me knowingly.

  “Time to give them one hell of a show, eh, Dweeb?”

  “You got it, D.”

  The house lights go out and the crowd goes wild, now fully aware that the show’s about to start. Knowing that’s our cue, Derrick, Maddox, and Knox start to take their places. JJ grabs my shoulder and I peer through the darkness, knowing I’ll find his fist waiting for mine. I pound his knuckles against his.

  “Kill it,” he yells over the noise as he goes to join the others.

  I almost jump when I feel a small hand slide into mine. I’m surprised to look over and see Alex. She looks back at me, giving my fingers a squeeze as she says, “Tell me something good. I need to hear something good.”

  I shake my head, understanding that her stage fright has kicked in, but surprised—after the last month—that she still has reason to doubt what she’s capable of. “Hey,” I lean down so that I can ensure that she hears every word I’m about to say. “Did you see the look on Adrian’s face an hour ago? We told you you could play circles around that guy. Now get your ass out there and show him how it’s done, Zip.”