by Grace James
Blake waved his stickers in front of my face. “So…?”
I put one hand on my hip, trying not to smile at his hopeful expression. “I know you’re just getting me to do this so you can go drink beer with Derren.”
Blake glanced over his shoulder to where Derren was slumped on a couch with his unplugged Gibson resting on his lap, plucking at the strings. When he saw us looking, he tipped the bottle our way and grinned smugly.
Blake looked back at me, raising his eyebrows. “And that’s okay? Because you love me and want me to be happy?”
I laughed and shook my head at him, pulling the stickers from his hand before I waved him away. “Fine. Go.”
He broke into a grin and kissed the top of my head. “You’re the best.”
“I know.”
It only took me about five minutes to decide that, of all the clothes hanging on Blake’s rack, he would probably only happily wear about eight items. I didn’t miss the death glare Lacey sent me as I draped the – mostly unused – streamer of stickers over the end of the rack and walked over to where Derren and Blake were jamming.
“All done,” I told Blake as I perched on the arm of the couch next to him and took a sip of his beer that he offered me.
“So, you gonna dress me like a dipshit after all?” he asked.
“No, I took pity on you,” I said, leaving out the part where I just couldn’t resist putting a sticker on the hanger of a hideous, pink, practically transparent t-shirt with a neckline that would probably go down almost to his navel. It was truly icky. Imagining his horror when that showed up with the rest of his wardrobe had made me giggle sadistically.
“Blake! You’re up!” Aiden’s shout sounded through the trailer from where he was leaning in through the open door.
Blake let out an almost inaudible sigh before he got to his feet to head out for his first interview. “See you after, Princess,” he said quietly as he leant over and kissed me. “Have fun, okay?”
65
Being backstage with Hayley – after the other guys had all been called away to do interviews, too – was like having a tour guide to the Disneyland of the music world.
Hayley was an old hand by then, having already been on tour with the guys numerous times since the beginning of their careers, but for me everything was a first.
She took me to the VIP section where the view of the stage was awesome, and we watched the artists perform while sipping beers and singing along non-stop. I saw more famous musicians – in the flesh – in a few hours than most people probably do in their lifetime if they’re lucky. I spent most of the time star struck, grabbing onto Hayley’s arm every few minutes and squeaking things like, Oh my God! I just saw Chris Martin! and Holy SHIT! Is that Lars Ulrich?!
About ten minutes before Sons of Sinners were due to headline the show, we met the guys back in their trailer. They were all set to go when we got there, with their in-ear monitors hanging around their necks, ready to be shoved in right before they walked on stage.
“Hey, Princess,” Blake greeted me with a grin. “You have a good time?”
“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I just saw Corey Taylor!” I told him excitedly, making him laugh.
There was a crackling noise, followed by the abrasive sound of someone’s distorted voice travelling through the walkie talkie that Grant held, “Ready for Sons of Sinners A-SAP.”
“We’re walking,” Grant replied into the radio.
Blake moved away from me then, moving towards a small table in the corner where Kane stood, pouring out three shots of Old Crow from a small bottle. Derren headed over, too, and each of them picked up a glass. Danny hung back, as did everyone else, and hush fell over the room.
Looking at the three of them there like that, huddled close, it was so painfully obvious who was missing.
“To Connor,” Derren said quietly.
As one, they clinked glasses and then threw back their shots.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat as they slammed their empty glasses down onto the table.
Then Blake turned back around and I caught sight of his face – it was totally blank, for about a second, then it was as if he woke up. “C’mon, fuckers! Let’s do this!” he yelled.
“Yeeeah, man!” Derren cawed, while Danny did a kind of howl. Kane just smiled, stoic as usual.
Slinging and arm around my neck, Blake led them out of the trailer.
As we got closer to the stage, the whole thing became more surreal. We must have passed a celebrity every five yards, and every single one of them were beyond excited to see Blake. It was like walking next to a king or something.
When we got side stage, Blake pulled me in for a quick kiss. “You gonna be okay here with Hayley?”
I smiled at him. “Of course.”
He grinned back as he put the monitors in his ears, then he stepped out onto the stage.
It was the weirdest feeling watching him. Like two worlds colliding. For the first time, my boyfriend and Blake Maxwell the Rock God were the same person. It sounds weird, but that’s the only way I can think of to describe it. And I was so proud of him. Of what he’d achieved and how good he was at what he did.
Blake strolled to the center of the stage, looking so at ease out there that it kind of blew my mind. I could barely think straight with the noise of the crowd, but he was acting like he was going for a stroll in the park. Casually, he pulled the mic from the stand and sent a panty dropping smile out across the audience. “Heeey, New York,” he drawled.
The screams got deafening then, as he said a few words about how honored the band were to be there and how much they believed in the cause.
Right before they blasted into their opening song, he turned to look right at me, and shot me a wink and a smile.
My heart almost beat right out of my chest.
Don’t get me wrong, that cocky wink never failed to have some effect on me, but when a guy is being lusted after by thousands of women, and he looks right at you and does that…well, it’s kind of the biggest turn on imaginable. Especially when you’re in love with him anyway.
I don’t think I looked away from Blake for the entire two-hour set. I’d hated that the last time I had watched him at The Academy, but now I reveled in it. Finally, after everything, I could just enjoy watching him without the guilt I used to feel all those years ago, or the conflict I’d felt ever since.
It was freeing.
“This next song feels a little weird for me tonight,” Blake said into the mic after he and the rest of the guys had jogged back onstage for the encore. “It’s called Loaded Deck –” he paused when the crowd noise doubled at the mention of their most famous song “– and it’s depressing as fuck. Whenever we performed it before, I could get right back there again in my head. But it’s different tonight, ‘cause the woman that it’s about is right here with me.”
The noise was deafening when he said that.
Blake smirked that cocky smirk of his and looked over at me.
I sent a huge smile back at him.
Then Sons played Loaded Deck and, for the first time, it didn’t hurt to hear it. But even if it had, what came next would’ve taken away the sting.
“This last song is a new one,” Blake said, fitting the mic that he had been holding back into the stand.
As he did so, the other guys gave the crowd a few waves and walked off the stage to stand with me and Hayley, leaving him out there alone.
“We’re recording our third album right now,” Blake continued, “and this is one of the tracks that’s gonna be on there. It’s still a little rough ‘cause I only wrote it last week. Don’t have the rest of the instrumental parts figured out yet so I’m gonna sing it solo.” A roadie jogged on stage to hand him his acoustic guitar. Blake threw the wide leather strap over his shoulder before stepping back up to the mic and adding, “It’s called Home Again, and it’s for Amy.”
For all the songs
I’ve sung for you
I realize
d that
I never did it right
‘Cause there’s just one thing
I should be telling you
That’s why I gotta
Set this straight
But I was just a boy back then
Acting like I knew
How to be a man
You cracked the shell
Around my heart
Late one night in a parking lot
Hopped up on the hood
Of my old pickup
Looked at me
Like I was worth a damn
And I ran so far and so fast
But you bring me home
And home again
I left you there
Like I didn’t care
So beautiful
In the moonlight
Knew soon as my feet
Hit the street outside
That all my answers
Stayed with you
But I was just a fool back then
Running from everything
I couldn’t have
You cracked the shell
Around my heart
Late one night in a parking lot
Hopped up on the hood
Of my old pickup
Looked at me
Like I was worth a damn
And I ran so far and so fast
But you bring me home
And home again
I wanted this
With you for so long
Tears and lies won’t
Touch us now
‘Cause you’re still
The riff my fingers know
Same girl I loved
Before I had this life
But I was just too proud back then
Fought the spark
When I should’ve
Let it burn
You cracked the shell
Around my heart
Late one night in a parking lot
Hopped up on the hood
Of my old pickup
Looked at me
Like I was worth a damn
And I ran so far and so fast
But you bring me home
And home again
‘Cause you looked at me
Like I was worth a damn
Can’t fight the spark
So we gotta let it burn
And you’ll bring me back
Across the miles
Yeah, you’ll bring me home
And home again
“Awwww!” Hayley dug her fingers into my arm as the crowd erupted. “Did your womb just spread her legs?!”
I laughed, but didn’t take my eyes off Blake. “Something like that.”
My panties were maybe a little wet.
Okay, soaking. They were soaking.
When Blake came off stage a few minutes later, after handing his guitar back to the roadie, I launched myself at him. He caught me with a huge grin as I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him hard, tasting the salty tang of sweat on his lips. “I love you,” I told him.
“You liked it?”
“Yes! I loved it! And I love you,” I told him again, not even caring about the camera flashes that seemed to be raining down around us.
“Love you too, Princess,” he said against my lips. “Always have.”
66
Walking into the after-show party with Blake’s arm around me was surreal. It was like I was somehow the First Lady of music. Everyone wanted to talk to me. People I’d seen on the cover of Rolling Stone introduced themselves to me.
It was crazy.
If I wasn’t completely aware that people were only treating me that way because I was with Blake, it would have been heady.
The party was held in the ballroom of this suuuuuper swanky hotel, The Winchester, in Manhattan. It was the most decadent place that I’d ever set foot in. Along one side of the huge room, there were metallic, crescent-shaped couches – silver, bronze, gold and emerald green – which is where we found Danny chugging champagne straight from the bottle.
Blake laughed as we took a seat across from him. “Couldn’t find a glass?”
“Fuck that!” Danny shouted raucously. “What’s the fuckin’ point of bein’ a rock star if you can’t neck…” he held the bottle up in front of his face, squinting at the label “…Krug? Who calls champagne fuckin’ Krug?”
“The people who sell it to idiots like me so that I can give it away for free to morons who don’t appreciate it,” a well-spoken, British voice commented dryly from behind me.
I turned to see a really handsome guy – wearing a navy suit with a white dress shirt, open at the collar – grinning down at us.
As soon as Blake saw him, he stood up and held his hand out to shake with the other man. “Vinnie, man, how you doing?”
“Ah, you know, same old,” Vinnie replied. “How about you? Man of the bloody hour in here or what?”
Blake grinned, ignoring the questions. “‘Same old’? Whatever, man. This place looks good. You did a hell of a job renovating this place.” He turned to me, taking my hand and pulling me up alongside him. “Amy, this is Vinnie Bailey. He owns this and a bunch of other hotels down the east coast.”
“Wow. It’s beautiful,” I said to Vinnie.
He shrugged, the move highlighting the broadness of his shoulders. “Thanks, Amy, you know how it is, you do what you can with what you’ve got.”
Blake laughed. “This?” he said, pointing at Vinnie but looking at me. “This is bullshit. Really, the guy thinks he’s ‘the bollocks’.” He put on a laughable British accent when he said that last part.
“Yeah, but I’m too British to blow my own trumpet,” Vinnie replied before clapping Blake on the shoulder. “That’s what you Yanks are for.”
Vinnie’s grin widened as Blake flipped him off.
“Can I borrow your man for a minute?” Vinnie asked me. “There’s a couple of blokes over there have been begging me for a meet and greet.” He looked back at Blake and his grin took on an evil glint. “Trust fund brats whose daddies think I’m about to bail them out of a shit ton of debt. Help me play the game, mate?”
Blake shook his head but his expression was amused. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Back in a minute, Princess.”
“Um, okay,” I agreed, not really sure what was going on. “I’ll hang out with Danny.”
“Honored,” Danny piped up, instantly grabbing up a fresh bottle of Krug from one of the ice buckets next to the couch and setting about opening it.
“Something tells me that Vinnie Bailey doesn’t just own hotels,” I said as I sat down next to him and took the champagne he offered me, smiling at his assumption that I would drink it straight from the bottle like him.
I watched Blake walk away with Vinnie to a group of college aged guys; they immediately started smiling like lunatics and practically falling over themselves to shake his hand.
“Not much gets past you, does it?” Danny said.
For a second, I just looked at him, before breaking into a laugh when I realized he was teasing. “How do you guys know him?”
“We don’t so much – but Blake plays poker with him now and then. Not a hundred percent sure how they met. Somethin’ to do with a Russian pole dancer.”
“Seriously?”
Danny considered briefly, then squinted, cocking his head to one side. “…or was she Latvian? I forget.”
I wrinkled up my nose. “That’s okay. Not sure I really want to know after all.”
He nodded sagely. “Wise – oh, and do me a favor? If you change your mind and ask Blake about it later, don’t tell him I mentioned it. I’m not dyin’ to go back to the day job just yet.”
I jerked my head back, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Not being funny, love, but I don’t think you get how protective he is over you.”
Maybe I was being incredibly dumb, but… “I still don’t get how that means you’d have to leave the band.”
He took a long chug
of champagne before he answered. “If Blake wants me out, I’m out. And me tellin’ you how much of a playboy he used to be would probably get me sacked quicker than I could say ‘unfair dismissal’.”
“Not that I love to talk about it, but Blake knows I’m well aware of how he’s lived his life,” I told him.
Somethin’ to do with a Russian pole dancer.
EW.
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t fire you for telling me something I pretty much already knew.”
Danny snorted loudly and shot me THE most incredulous look of all time.
“What? He wouldn’t!”
“Yeeeah, that’s easy for you to say, love, but I’m the one who’s been stuck on a pissin’ tour bus with him for the last three years, listenin’ to him cry-wank over you.”
I stared at him, agape. I really couldn’t tell if he was being serious – until I saw the glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Ew! Shut up!” I laughed.
“What?” he asked innocently. “It’s true.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Okay, not the wankin’ part…or even the cryin’ –”
“So, none of it.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I bet he did it, but obviously he’d never admit it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. And I can’t believe you think he’d fire you. Could he even fire you?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”
“But you’re a band. None of you can be fired by just one person, can you? Isn’t it like a ‘majority rules’ type of thing?”
“Ah, yeah,” he said, leaning closer and raising one finger, as if he was giving a lecture. “But I’m not really in the band.”
“So – wait – who was that guy in the seriously tight SpongeBob SquarePants shirt I saw drumming for Sons an hour ago?”
Danny glanced down at the image of SpongeBob and Squidward smiling manically on his torso, and grinned. “Like it?”