Take Me With You

by K. A. Linde

  “I’m not leaving you here if you’re in danger!”

  He leaned forward until our foreheads were resting against each other. “I know we’ve argued a lot, Ari, but you are the most important person in my life. And the bastard won’t hesitate to use any advantage he has. You understand?”

  “Grant…” I whimpered.

  “Please—for me.”

  “Okay, Grant, I’ll go,” I consented with a sigh. “But you should go to the police if you think you’re in danger.”

  He groaned and pulled away from me. “I’m not involving those idiots. They’re not going to do anything unless he actually does something illegal. Trust me, they won’t think a phone call constitutes that.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to alert them—and me. You have to be sure to check in with me.”

  “If it looks like he’s coming at me with a gun, I’ll contact you and the police,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  I playfully smacked him on his arm. “Don’t joke about that.”

  After a pause, he sighed. “I wasn’t.”

  “Let’s get this shit out of the way,” Hollis said, clapping his hands together. “Time is money!”

  I glared at Hollis. I still couldn’t fucking listen to the moronic things that came out of his mouth. And I couldn’t believe that, after all this time, we were actually here in New York City about to sign with Pacific Entertainment. I wanted to be pissed about it all. Hollis gave me a bad feeling, but at this point, I also thought we had an understanding.

  So, I couldn’t stop my stomach from fucking flipping like an idiot at the thought. We were really going to be on a fucking record label!

  It almost displaced the paranoia I had about my dad showing up in Princeton at any given moment and the constant pain from the motorcycle accident.

  Almost.

  At least I’d gotten Ari to go to Florida with her roommates. Peace of mind about that situation. She hadn’t been happy to hear we were signing the week she was going to be gone, but at least she was excited for me, for all of us.

  Neither of us knew what this meant going forward, but we’d fucking figure it out together. That was what we had decided before she left.

  “I read over the contract you forwarded to me, Mr. Tift,” the lawyer Miller had acquired for us said, “but I want to read the this document here before we hand my clients a pen.”

  “By all means,” Hollis said. He waved his hand at the stack of papers on the table.

  I walked a short distance away from Hollis with Miller. “This lawyer is legit, right? He’s going to figure out if Hollis is fucking us over?”

  “Best I could find on short notice, but I think we’re covered,” Miller told me. “Anyway, I don’t see why it would be in Hollis’s interest to fuck us over.”

  “Because he’s a douche. It’s in his job description.”

  Miller cracked up and shook his head. “Well, I think we’re covered.”

  I punched Miller on the arm. “I can’t believe I let my fucking cousin come up here with us today.”

  “Me either. How many dudes do you think she’ll blow before the night is over?” he joked.

  “I can’t control her. I thought I knew someone who could help with that.”

  Miller raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. No one can control that level of crazy.”

  “You seemed to handle her fucking fine at the ski lodge, if I remember correctly.”

  “Sometimes, I think she handled me.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “That sounds like Sydney. But, bro, she’s still my little cousin. I don’t give a shit what’s going on with Shelby, but if you hurt Sydney…”

  “No one can hurt Sydney,” Miller said quickly. “No one and nothing. She does whatever the fucks she wants. We’ve all known her forever. We all know how she is. Just as much of a slut as you were.”

  “That’s my cousin,” I growled. There were few people I defended fiercely.

  “Don’t I fucking know it? I bet you’d love for her to find the equivalent of Ari.”

  “I think she likes dick too much,” I regrettably told him.

  “You know what I mean. Chick can’t be tamed.”

  “My comment still holds. You’re not a douche bag, Miller. Leave that to Vin.”

  I didn’t clarify whether I meant to leave Sydney to Vin with all her crazy or for Miller to man up and claim his woman. In the long run, my two cents didn’t fucking matter. I just hated that my boys were still arguing over my dumbass cousin.

  “Everything seems to be in order,” our lawyer finally said. “Same document I read earlier this week.”

  “Fucking great!” Vin cried. “Let’s fucking do the damn thing!”

  Miller and I moved toward the table where the other guys stood, and we all stared down at the contract that was about to change our lives. Hollis handed out pens, and then we signed page after page of a document that had so much fucking legalese that it read as if it were in another language. But we kept signing until every page was full.

  I dropped the pen onto the table. All the fucking worries that had led up to this moment vanished. We were on a major record label. We were a part of Pacific Entertainment.

  “Good to have you guys,” Hollis said. He shook each of our hands and laughed at the shit-eating grins on our faces. “Time to celebrate. I wish I could stay and party with you, but I need to get back on the road and catch up with The Drift. I flew in from Dallas just for you guys!”

  I didn’t even care that he was feeding us his typical bullshit. I was high on life right now. It was unreal compared to all the other shit I’d had to deal with, but signing those papers would turn it all around. I wanted to fucking party. I wanted to get wasted and fucking go crazy tonight.

  “McAvoy! Send out a blast, letting people know where we’re headed. Let’s make it a party!” I cried.

  We all cheered, dancing around like fucking dopes and giving each other bro hugs. This was the motherfucking dream.

  Hollis promised to be in touch about everything going forward. He kept using words like tour and debut album and studio recording—all these fucking things we’d never thought would fucking happen in a million years. Miller sending out those shit demos last year had seemed like such a joke at the time. Just last semester, I couldn’t have foreseen any of this actually happening.

  Once McAvoy had sent out the blast to our social media sites, we took a cab to a nearby bar. We’d played New York City enough that we had a few local groupies who came to all our shows. After the New Year’s show in the city with The Drift, our fan base had grown. But I hadn’t anticipated the number of people who would show up.

  “Ugh! Look at all those sluts,” Sydney said. She stood next to me in another tiny fucking skirt and shirt with cowboy boots.

  Those goddamn cowboy boots.

  “This coming from a girl who has fucked the entire Tennessee football team.” I nudged her.

  “Not the entire team.”

  “And half of my band.”

  “I can only fuck three-quarters of the band, cuz. Sounds like I’m missing out.” She smirked defiantly.

  “And how many dudes did you blow at the ski lodge?”

  She shrugged. “How long were we there? I lost count.”

  “Long enough that you should remember. What’s up with you and Miller?”

  “Oh, stop, Grant. I don’t want to talk about Miller. Just because you went and got your ass whipped doesn’t mean I should suddenly change my ways. I like sex. I like lots of it. I’m not fucking waiting around for him or anyone else while I live three fucking states away.”

  “You know I don’t give a fuck what you do, Syd. I’m far from a model fucking citizen. Just don’t fuck with my boys.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Who else am I supposed to fuck?”

  She gestured around the room, and she had a point. Practically everyone who had shown up was a chick. And at least half of them seemed to be trying to figu
re out who Sydney was, so they could make a move on me.

  The chick in the front had on a skintight dress that showed off all her curves in all the right places. Two or three girls nearby were busting out of their tops. Christ, it was like someone had told them I fucking loved them busty. Another girl caught my eye who had a dark, mysterious vibe about her. I bet she could suck cock. Before Ari, I would have found out. Now, I made a mental checklist. I could appreciate a chick if she was hot and imagine what she would probably do to me without actually fucking wanting it to happen. At least I’d never go through with it.

  “Your pick of the lot, and my pussy-ass cousin is waiting on his girl in Florida.”

  “Hey, watch your fucking mouth.”

  A smile crossed her face, and she playfully punched me on the shoulder. I winced, but I tried to cover it up. I hadn’t told anyone else about the motorcycle accident because I felt like too much of an idiot to admit to it.

  “Shots,” I suggested. Alcohol could dull the pain of more than just the accident.

  We rounded up the guys and toasted to our newfound success.

  After a while, I remembered the number of shots I had taken about as well as Sydney remembered how many dudes she’d blown at the ski lodge. All I knew was, I felt wonderfully fucking numb everywhere and goddamn happy about the band.

  I wandered away from the group and dug out my phone from my pocket.

  Ari answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey!” I cried.

  She laughed. “Are you drunk?”

  “Barely had anything, anything at all.”

  “Right. That’s why you’re slurring your words.”

  “Okay, I might have had more than one.” I crashed down onto a barstool and pressed the phone closer to my ear.

  “I saw the status that was posted. Congratulations! How does it feel to be a signed band under a major record label?”

  “Almost as good as your pussy.”

  I could practically see her blushing.

  “Oh, Grant.”

  “Speaking of my favorite thing, can you bring her over tonight? We’re fucking celebrating!”

  “I wish I could, but it’s kind of a long flight from Florida.”

  “Then, what am I supposed to fuck?” I asked.

  There was a short pause before Ari answered, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You keep your dick in your pants, Grant McDermott.”

  “Oh, Princess, you know you’re the only one for me.”

  “You’re doing what?” I crossed my arms and stared at Grant in disbelief.

  I’d been back from spring break for only a total of three hours. It had been a great vacation. I was glad I had let Grant convince me to go even though that had meant he had to deal with the band and his dad by himself. Luckily, there had been no sign of his father while I was gone, but there had been a major development with the band.

  “Going on tour,” Grant repeated.

  “Already? I mean, doesn’t that seem…I don’t know…crazy?”

  “Definitely crazy.” He picked me up around the middle and swung me around in a circle. “Ari, ContraBand is going on a real tour. We’re going to be playing multiple shows a week, making money off of our music, promoting ‘Life Raft’ and the upcoming album.”

  “The album you haven’t even recorded yet,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, we just signed. And we have so many songs that have never even seen a real album before.”

  “Besides the one from Corey.”

  “Forget about Corey,” he said. “We’re talking about a big studio album recorded in Los Angeles. We’re talking about working with the best in the business.”

  As I recalled, Grant had been thoroughly impressed with Corey’s work on their Life Raft EP, but I understood the enthusiasm. I wanted him to do well. I was being selfish. I didn’t want him to go away. I especially didn’t want him to go away when his crazy dad was on the loose and looking for him. Maybe it would be better for him. At least Grant would be gone. His dad couldn’t get to him if he wasn’t here.

  “A tour and Los Angeles—big time.”

  “That’s right, Princess.” He drew me in close to him and dropped a soft kiss on my mouth. “You’re dating a big-time rock star. How does it feel?”

  “About the same as when you were a nobody rock star—totally and completely strange.”

  He laughed, wove his fingers through my hair, and kissed me again. “I like tilting your world off balance.”

  “You’re rather successful at it.”

  “I’m going to keep it that way.”

  “Good,” I murmured. “Now, tell me all the details about this tour.”

  The Drift concert I had stumbled into the weekend before my birthday was the beginning of a small nationwide tour. They were hitting medium-sized venues all around the country, trying to gauge interest in a blowout arena tour.

  The opening band Hollis had scheduled would be pulled from the lineup halfway through the tour because of lack of audience interest. I wasn’t surprised about that bit at all. The part I’d heard from them wasn’t that great, not that it was exactly my kind of music. But I remembered thinking that The Drift needed a better opener. Well, it had turned out that they were getting one—ContraBand.

  Hollis wanted to plug the guys in as The Drift traveled back up the East Coast for the second half of the tour. Grant claimed it would give ContraBand a huge boost building anticipation for their upcoming album. They’d gain a larger fan base that would be anxious for more of their music. “Life Raft” was already out there, and Hollis wanted to hammer it home to their audience. That way, when they were promoting, the song would already be a hot commodity.

  It all made sense logically. I just found it surprising, not that I had any knowledge of how the music industry worked. Maybe this was more common than I thought. Growing up, I’d rarely gone to concerts, and I had never been a teenybopper who religiously followed bands like some girls.

  All I wanted was for Grant to be happy. If this record deal and the tour and the studio album made him happy, then I’d be there for the ride.

  At the start of the next week, ContraBand was supposed to leave to pick up on The Drift’s tour, which meant I only had one more week with Grant before he would be gone for two whole months. I knew we could make the distance work, and in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t be that long, but I was going to miss him. I could already feel the ache of missing him settling into my chest. I’d finally found a boy who made my heart skip, and I didn’t want him to go away.

  I tried to smother those feelings when we were together. I needed to cherish the moments we had while we had them rather than obsess about the fact that he was going to be gone.

  God! How had I become this girl? I’d spent my whole life trying not to be a lovesick sap. Somehow, Grant McDermott, of all people, had forced it out of me.

  As much as I wanted to revel in every little moment, I still had classes, not to mention tests in my Molecular Biology and Calc IV courses. It hadn’t been an easy semester, and it was even worse when I was trying to grab on to every minute with Grant.

  But trying to hold onto time was like sand in a sieve, slipping away one grain at a time until there was nothing left.

  Soon enough, it was the weekend, and after that, Grant would be long gone.

  The guys decided to celebrate their upcoming tour with The Drift by playing at The Ivy League one last time for all their local fans. Hurst wasn’t too thrilled about the fact that they were leaving since they brought in so much business, but I knew he was secretly pleased with their success. Everyone was happy for them. We were cheering on the hometown heroes.

  When I arrived at the League with Cheyenne, Gabi, and Shelby, it was already at full capacity. The bouncer at the door was having trouble with people slipping inside on his watch. The packed building was a fire hazard, but no one seemed to care. They all wanted to be there, in that moment, to witness the beginning of the band’s rise
.

  The crowd made me practically claustrophobic. Cheyenne needled people out of the way, but no one seemed to want to move. She was determined though. I almost told her that we should go through the backstage entrance and watch from there, but I liked the idea of being able to see the band front and center.

  Eventually, we made our way through the crowd to a spot a short distance from the stage. Their instruments were already set up, even Grant’s cherry red Gibson.

  The crowd chanted, “ContraBand. ContraBand. ContraBand.”

  I held my breath and let the memories flood my mind. I’d first met Grant here. Listening to him sing and play guitar that first night, I’d actually seen him, and it had made me realize that he wasn’t some idiot. He was pure passion and talent. On Halloween, he’d pulled me up onstage to kiss me. He’d written music for me and sang to me and loved me.

  My throat tightened as Grant walked out. There he was, in all his glory, wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a new leather jacket. His dark hair was perfectly tousled. His eyes searched for me out in the massive crowd. The McDermott smirk made the girls all around me swoon.

  My heart thudded in my chest in time with the beat McAvoy thumped against the drums.

  Then, Grant found me.

  His smile was one of pure devotion. It was my smile—the one that had won me over, the one I would never stop loving.

  “Leaguers!” Grant cheered into the microphone.

  The building shook with the enthusiasm of the crowd’s screams, claps, and stomps.

  “Thank you so fucking much for being here tonight. We’re ContraBand! This is a special show for us. This kicks off our first ever tour with The Drift, who we’ll be meeting in New Orleans on Monday!”