Daisies & Devin

by Kelsey Kingsley

  He responded with a loose shrug. “I’m an honest motherfucker. If I want O’Leary to know I’ve rubbed one out to the thought of his girlfriend sucking my cock, I’m gonna tell him. The two of you assholes could learn a thing or two from me, instead of kissing his ass because he’s the reason for your paycheck.”

  I sneered at him, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ, man. Shut the fuck up.”

  Richard stuck his head in. “What are you guys doing? Let’s go.”

  Robbie took off first, sauntering away in a staggering sort of way to grab his Strat. Sebastian followed, flipping one stick in the air and then the other, juggling to expel his own nervous jitters before walking on stage. With one last heavy gust of air, I bent over, pressing my hands to my knees.

  Ty took one long look at me and asked, “Hey man, you okay?”

  “Just nervous as fuck,” I confessed, looking up at him. “I’ve never performed for a crowd larger than like, fifteen people.”

  He nodded and scratched the back of his head. “It’s different for you; you’re the head honcho. I don’t have a whole lot of advice for you, other than to focus on something that calms you down. But honestly, the worst part is right before you start playing. The rest comes a lot easier.”

  I stood up and exhaled deeply, nodding. “Thanks, dude,” I said, before following him out toward the crowd, roaring with anticipation.

  For me.

  ♪

  The sound the record label had decided on, was a little more upbeat than what came to me naturally. They said it would get the crowd moving and that it would add balance to my act. When they had initially told me I needed to make some changes, I had scoffed and, in kinder words, told them to go fuck themselves.

  But kicking the show off with the refurbished “Edge of a Blue Existence” did get the crowd of roughly two-hundred and fifty men and women on their feet, leaving them hungry and ready for the next.

  And all of those dead poets,

  They sit quietly on their shelves,

  Waiting to be discovered,

  By somebody else.

  Dead but far from sleeping,

  Their talking has been keeping us,

  From forgetting all the shit,

  That we bring upon ourselves.

  When I strummed the last chord in a particular favorite of mine, “Sleeping Poets,” I was not only free of all nerves and anxiety, but also pumped full of electricity and life.

  “Thank you, Connecticut,” I said into the mic, over the roar of applause. “Thank you for being the perfect first gig for this guy, and this band. You guys are fucking beautiful.”

  In jest, I took that opportunity to jump into the first notes of One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful,” and when Sebastian chimed in with the cowbell, I snorted, catching Kylie’s eyes. They sparkled, sharing the excitement that raced through my veins, and with that encouragement, I tested the waters. I piped the first couple of lyrics to one of the boy band’s biggest hits, and the crowd lost their minds. I laughed through the chorus, going with it, getting high on the thrill of singing in unison with nearly three-hundred people.

  I shot a grin at Ty with the final lines and chords, and the applause engulfed me in confidence. I looked down at Kylie, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide, and I was overwhelmed with the desperation to feel her body against mine. To kiss her and taste her and ride the waves of my energized joy with the pleasures of sex. She bit her lower lip, dragging her teeth over its fullness, and I wondered if we’d even make it to the car.

  Fuck. I was glad my guitar concealed my hard-on.

  The night was a rollercoaster of boners and gratitude, of awe and emotion. When I thanked the crowd one final time, I could barely keep my shit together as I whipped my guitar around my back and walked to the edge of the stage. A few pairs of daring hands reached to grab at my legs, but my eyes were set on Kylie. She sensed it and grinned, extending her arms as I hoisted her up. I pulled her intently toward backstage, leading her with my hand and eyes.

  We made it as far as the hallway.

  I lifted her up, pinning her against the wall. My fingers interlocked with hers, raising them above her head as her legs hooked around my waist and my tongue was plunging between her lips, reaching the furthest corners of her mouth.

  And if it weren’t for Robbie’s obnoxious wolf-whistle, I would’ve forgotten entirely where I was. I would’ve had her right there, and I wasn’t sure she’d stop me.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, my lower lip between her teeth, and she released, turning her head to see Robbie staring, his shoulder against the wall.

  “Oh, please, don’t stop on my account,” he said with a mischievous jump of his brows. “The rush does that type of thing to people. It makes you wanna fuck.”

  With disappointment, I lowered Kylie to the floor and discreetly adjusted myself before turning to him, spotting the other guys milling around behind him with bottles of water in hand. Chewing on some snacks that’d been laid out.

  “That show was …” Incredible? Amazing? Out of this fucking world? I rounded a hand to the back of my neck, searching for a suitable adjective that could adequately describe what I’d just experienced, when Richard startled me with a one-man applause. “Fucking outstanding,” he said.

  I whirled around on my heel to see him standing there in his crisp suit, hands clapping noisily in the tight space. Kylie’s cheeks blazed crimson, eyes pinned to me with only one thing on her mind, and I swallowed. Conflicted between wanting to leave and make love to her, and wanting to hear what he had to say. What he thought I could do differently, what he thought I did perfectly.

  “Did you know that hashtag ‘daisies and Devin’ has been popping up all over Instagram and Twitter for the past week?” he asked casually, slipping his hands into his pockets. Kylie nodded. “In one week, it has gotten over nine-thousand tags throughout the country.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I’ve been watching.”

  “The country?” I repeated, unaware that my music had made it much further than the Connecticut border.

  He nodded. “Good news travels fast, and good songs travel faster. People are sharing with their friends, and their friends are sharing with their friends. They love you, they want you, and that’s why, in a couple weeks, we’re heading out on a national tour. I’ve already gotten the venues lined up.”

  “That’s pretty short notice,” I commented. “I usually buy concert tickets months before the show.”

  “We’re striking while the iron is hot,” Richard said. “When you’ve made a lasting impression, then we can think about booking a tour more in advance. We want people to see you now. We want them to remember you now.”

  “And even before the full album is out?” Kylie asked, pressing herself to my side.

  Richard nodded. “The EP is already out and spreading like crazy. We can jump in the studio after the tour and bang out an album, and that can be released in just a month or two. We want to push as hard, and as fast, as we can right now.”

  “Richie Rich knows what he’s talking about,” Robbie tossed in, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it. “You’re on fire, my friend. Don’t want to let that flame die down before it’s gotten a chance to burn.”

  The guy was an ass and couldn’t keep his big mouth shut to save his life, but when it came to the music industry, I trusted his word. If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right, and I was going to do it now. So I nodded, allowing my smile to consume me, and I gave Richard my consent.

  Because, if that first show was any indication of what the rest of my shows were going to be like, I needed to keep it going. Needed to feel that rush again as soon as possible.

  I’d gotten a taste, and I was addicted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Kylie

  “Come on tour with me.”

  Devin was pleading with me, curling his body around mine in the darkness of our bedroom. The show the night before had stoked a fire
in him, excited him in the way I knew it should. He felt powerful and strong. He felt like Titanic’s Jack Dawson, king of the world—our world—and I was more than willing to hand him his crown. Except that logic told me I couldn’t tour the country with him, as deliciously exciting as that seemed. I wanted to see the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore, but the call of responsibility kept me from leaping at the chance.

  I hesitated in my response and sighed. “Devin …”

  “No, come on, KJ. I want you there. I need you there,” he said, nuzzling into my neck, hugging me tighter in his arms and legs. “I need to see you in the front row at every fucking show.”

  “But the shop, Dev ... and Eddie …”

  His lips touched my neck, then my ear. “Brooke can do it. She can check in on Eddie. It’ll be fine.”

  “Babe, I can’t expect Brooke to handle everything by herself for months. She has a life too.”

  “So, hire other employees!” He was laughing, smiling against my shoulder. His lips pressed into my skin again and again, elation radiating from his body like a heavy, consuming mist. “It’s ridiculous that you don’t have anybody else working there anyway.”

  “But,” I began, regretting every bit of my hesitation. Because as much as he wanted me there, I wanted to be there even more. “We’re not making enough money to hire on more people. I mean, we could maybe swing one other part-time employee, but we couldn’t handle a whole roster of people, babe …”

  The reality of it all brought his forehead to dip against the pillow as he nodded. “No, I know,” he sighed against my ear. The weight of his disappointment brought his head to press heavily against mine.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, interlocking my fingers with his. “Maybe it’s for the best,” I offered weakly. “I mean, maybe it’s good we get used to this now, instead of later. I won’t be able to go with you on every tour, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “But not every tour will be my first,” and with that, he unwrapped himself from my body and got up from the bed to walk into the living room.

  I sighed as I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees. His point was valid. This was a once in a lifetime circumstance. He would never again have another first concert tour, and bearing that in mind, I climbed off the bed and went to join him on the couch. His fingers plucked slowly against the strings of his old guitar, the one he never used anymore. Not since the Hummingbird fell into his hands.

  “How many dates do you have on the East Coast?” I asked, presenting my quickly conjured compromise on a golden platter.

  “I don’t know,” he shrugged halfheartedly. “Richard estimated about ten, I think. Two weeks’ worth, maybe.”

  I crawled to his end of the couch, taking the guitar from his hands. I eased it to the floor and climbed into his lap. “What about this?” I leaned forward to kiss him softly as his arms wrapped around my waist. “I’ll take two weeks off and travel the East Coast with you.”

  The fire in his eyes flickered gently. “Two weeks, huh?”

  I nodded. “It’s really unrealistic to take off more than that, babe, but I’m sure Brooke would be fine taking care of the place for two weeks, considering the circumstances.”

  His fingers ran through my hair, gripping as he pushed my lips back toward his. “And those will be the best two weeks of my life.”

  ♪

  “Kylie, I’m really glad you decided to come along,” Richard called from the passenger seat, next to Evan, the tight-lipped driver. “This gives us some time to hang out together.”

  Two weeks after I made the decision to join Devin on the first leg of the tour, I found myself heading off to Pennsylvania. My expectations of a tour bus, like the one I had seen in a Hanson VHS, had been abruptly laid to rest, when I was presented with the black Mercedes van. Richard explained that the need for a tour bus just wasn’t there when we weren’t traveling great distances in between stops and there were hotels to stay at along the way.

  This wasn’t the worst arrangement—what girl turns down jacuzzi tubs, room service and King-sized hotel beds? But sitting between Devin and Ty wasn’t the most glamorous of travel conditions. I was the only one to fit in the middle of the back seat, being the smallest and thinnest of the bunch, and it wasn’t unlike being squished inside a pickle jar.

  “Yeah, I’m glad too,” I said with a smile, as I listened to the thump-thump-thump of Ty’s head against the window as he slept on the way from River Canyon to Philadelphia.

  Robbie glanced back at me from the middle row and smirked. “I’m sure you are, Princess. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than crammed in a van with six sweaty guys, huh? Got plans for an orgy? Just so you know, I’m a backdoor kind of man.”

  Sebastian didn’t hide his revulsion as he scoffed from the seat beside him. “You’re one classy motherfucker, aren’t you?” And his eyes drooped as he pulled his headphones up.

  Devin’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders and I judged the gesture as protective, from the other guys in the group. Marking his territory from men he still hardly knew.

  His mouth dropped down to my ear. “Ignore him, okay?” he whispered.

  “Consider it done,” I said, and his lips brushed against the delicate spot below my earlobe. I slumped against him, finding my happiest of places in the comfort of his body.

  “Kylie, have you ever been to Philly?” Richard called, turning in his seat.

  I shook my head and called back, “No, I’ve never really done much travelling.”

  He nodded. “Well, you’ll be able to do a lot of sightseeing during the next couple of weeks. You can go see the Liberty Bell, and the zoo … Oh! And you really have to go see the Magic Gardens. I think you’d really love it there. Maybe we could go together, the three of us, before rehearsal tomorrow.”

  Richard was trying to form a bond between us. I suspected that was a large reason for his insistence that I come along on the tour, and my smile broadened as I nodded. “That’d be nice.”

  “How sweet,” Robbie snickered, and Richard shot him a stony glare. “What?” he snapped at him. “I wasn’t aware I was signing a contract with the fuckin’ Partridge Family, that’s all.”

  Thump-thump-thump went Ty’s head against the window, and I eased my own against Devin’s shoulder. I sighed, settling into the rise and fall of his chest.

  He whispered under his breath, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  My lips curled and my heart fluttered as I replied, “I can.”

  ♪

  The Logan Philadelphia Hotel was the epitome of luxury. Devin and I walked together into the lobby like the Beverly Hillbillies, fingers interlaced and tense with anxious excitement.

  “Devin,” I whispered, wrenching from his grip as I ran ahead to touch the fabric of the couch, sandwiched between the flanking staircases leading to the bar. “Oh my God, this is gorgeous. Come here and touch this. I want this couch.”

  “Okay, okay, but hold on, look at these.” His face was turned upward, staring at the two chandeliers, comprised entirely of photographs. “You should do this in Black & Brewed,” he mused, nodding to himself. “Hang pictures of all the famous River Canyonites.”

  I walked slowly toward him, my face stretched into a painful smile, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Who would that be? William Fuller and you?”

  His cheeks flourished with bright crimson as one arm circled my shoulders, pulling me against his hard body. “Well, I don’t know about me, but …”

  “Do you see where you are right now? That couch over there is worth more than everything in our apartment. You’re on your way, babe.”

  In an overwhelming urge to ensure that this was real life and not a dream, Devin grasped my hand and pulled me into him. He dipped his neck, thrusting his mouth hard against mine, prying my lips open with his energetic tongue and within fractions of a second, we were making out enthusiastically in the lobby of one of Philly’s most prestigious hotels.

&nbs
p; “Knock it off, lovebirds. Some of us have to actually work to get laid tonight,” Robbie chided, walking by us with his guitar slung over one shoulder. He waltzed through the place like it was nothing special, nothing to be appreciated, and there it was again; the unsettling friction of being rubbed the wrong way.

  Smiling against my lips, Devin chuckled, without fraction of embarrassment. “Fucking hell, Kylie, I love you so much. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “So am I,” I grinned, squeezing around his middle before stepping backward.

  Sebastian and Ty came to join underneath the chandeliers, while Robbie moseyed around with aggravating nonchalance. He was the seasoned veteran and he was making no secret of it. Richard came to stand with the four of us and beckoned the cool guitarist over with a wave of his hand.

  “Okay, all of us are on the same floor. Devin and Kylie, I have the two of you in the James Logan Suite.” He handed us each a card key. “Sebastian and Ty, you’re in a double room suite across the hall from them.”

  “I have to share a suite?” Disgruntled, Sebastian lowered his brows, eyeing the card in his hand with bitter disdain.

  “We’re all sharing,” Richard said, narrowing his eyes at the shaggy-headed blonde.

  “It’ll be fun, bro,” Ty said, clapping him on the back. “I’ll braid your hair for you and you can paint my nails.”

  “Wonderful,” Sebastian grunted, pocketing the key and crossing his arms. “You better not snore, bro. I don’t tolerate that crap.”

  “Come on, just give me my key, Richie,” Robbie demanded, thrusting his open palm into the center of our pow-wow.

  Richard placed a key into his hand. “You’re bunking with me.”

  “Wonderful,” Robbie beamed with a condescending grin. “And I swear to God, Richie Rich; if you cockblock me, I’m making your life miserable.”

  “I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” Richard drawled with an impatient sigh. “You think you could remember that we have a lady with us, huh, Rob?”