Right now, though, he was having a hell of a time…and it couldn’t be helped.
He was busy chatting with all the band members spread out in the living area of their tour bus. They’d recently sunk money into a nicer, newer one but, really, it was just for show. The bunks weren’t any more luxurious than the last bus they’d had and the interior was a little nicer but certainly not worth all the money they’d dropped on the damn thing. He didn’t mind, though, because they were making more money than ever before. It was disgusting the money they were earning. Half a million a year each at least when all income streams were figured in, and that was after everyone else was paid.
It was, in a word, obscene.
So obscene, in fact, that he let Emily talk him into donating even more to charity than he had in the past. He’d always donated some to various different causes, but she found other worthy ones, sharing her passions with him, and he’d readily agreed. His tax guy had told him they were deductions too, so it was win-win. Honestly, it was more than fine with him. His house and cars were paid for; his daughter’s future education was taken care of; and he still had a ridiculous amount of accumulated wealth. He saw no way he could ever spend it all in his lifetime, not anymore—not if Last Five Seconds continued doing what they loved.
And they would. There was no escaping the draw of a live crowd or that deep, burning compulsion to create and perform.
They were getting ready to do that now, and that was why Clay was beyond pumped. The energy he felt flowing through him when he performed live fueled the part of him was Jet. It was hard to describe, but Jet truly was a different part of himself—part asshole, part showman, cocky as hell, on fire. Clay would swear to his dying day that he wouldn’t have been nearly as popular or well-loved by fans had he not become this alter ego.
He was afraid, now that Emily was seeing him full-blown and out of control, that she might have second thoughts about their relationship.
What worried him more, though, was all the sweaty assholes he was surrounded by. Jesus. He’d expected the roadies to make comments about his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean he was prepared. First off, most of them hadn’t seen her till now, but he’d figured they’d make sure not to say anything in front of him. That had obviously been a dumb assumption on his part, because it wasn’t long before the foreman of the crew told Clay that Emily had a “nice tight ass.” Clay—or Jet, rather—felt his nostrils flare and his eyes squint. As if to appease Clay, the guy quickly added, “You got nice taste, boss.”
Clay had merely muttered, “Hmm,” and let it go.
Worse was Devil, their lead singer, who’d gone out of his way to tell Clay that his current girlfriend was beyond fine. Clay had raised his eyebrows at the man, wondering if he needed to say anything or not. He did mention that Devil was already attached, and his friend replied, “Yeah…but I can look, can’t I?” Clay gritted his teeth, wanting to tell the guy it was okay as long as it wasn’t his girl. Instead, he again tried to relax because, after all, Emily was with him. He needn’t worry about anyone else.
But as they’d loaded all their instruments that morning, Clay had heard various comments that, he supposed, the guys thought were under their breath but weren’t. These stupid asses had gone to way too many concerts without wearing ear plugs. They were probably deaf. Dumb fucks. You’d think they’d never seen a hot woman before.
Well, maybe no other woman had ever let them get that close.
Clay only knew one thing—he was going to have to keep an eye on all these filthy animals, because if one of them laid a hand on her? Only God knew what he’d do…
How do Emily and Clay fare on tour? Read BOILING POINT now to find out!
Copyright
Copyright 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2020 by Jade C. Jamison
Cover image © Elnur_/ Depositphotos
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 179