by Anna Edwards
Chapter 6
Tate
#FlaredJeansWentOutInTheEighties
If Miss Danson can’t take a joke, then she’s in the wrong place. I’m furious at the way she walked out on me. It’s childish and stupid. I knew she shouldn’t be on this tour, and with one moment of clarity as to her true nature, it’s been proven. Fuck her. I’m not going to waste another moment of my time thinking about her.
I take a slow, long look around the room, surveying what is happening. The band is surrounded by the usual die-hard fans and the obligatory group of women who are desperate to spend a night with a rock star. I think it’s time for this party to move to somewhere a little more private. Cameron catches my eye, and I see he has the same idea. I nod at him, and he stands up, all the eyes in the room move to him as one of the stars of the evening.
“Time to head back to the bus,” he orders, and the room fills with groans of disappointment. “But I’m sure we can take a few select individuals with us.”
All the women in the room sit up and try to make themselves look as seductive as possible. It’s hilarious, but my bandmates don’t seem to notice instead they set about picking a few women to join us. I can’t be bothered to pay attention to all that crap tonight. I’m too angry for some reason. Instead I grab another beer for the road, and head to the bus.
When I step outside the stadium, the roar of adoring fans deafens me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is one of the reasons I love my job so much. A big smile crosses my face, and ever the showman, I lose the anger instantly when I approach them and begin signing as many autographs as I can on a variety of different materials—paper, fabric, even skin. It sends endless thrills through me.
“Tate, Tate, please,” a couple of younger fans call out, and I make my way toward them.
“Hi.” I flash my pearly whites at them. “Did you see the concert?”
“We did,” the girl and two boys answer in unison.
The girl continues, “It was the best thing ever. I’ve been looking forward to coming to see you live for ages, but our parents kept saying we were too young. Finally, they said yes, even if my dad did have to be here.” She looks toward an older gentleman standing directly behind her before adding, “You were amazing. I’m still shaking.” The girl holds her hand out, and I see it quivering. I reach out and touch it with the tip of my finger.
“See, now it’s shaking even more.”
“Oh my God, Tate Gordon touched me. I’ll never wash again,” the girl screams, and I try not to laugh when her father rolls his eyes.
“How about you all give me something I can actually sign. I think you’ll need to wash that hand eventually.” I chuckle with the group who immediately thrust posters and autograph books into my hands. I sign everything before handing them back. It makes me feel good. These are the genuine fans I want to make happy when I sing.
“Thank you for bringing them.” I nod toward the father. “I hope it’s not been too awful.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t tell her, but I was voted by the other parents to take them because I had a thing for Guns N Roses and Def Leppard when I was their age. This isn’t my first rock concert.”
“I would’ve loved to have seen those bands. I bet we didn’t compare at all.”
“You were cool enough.” The man holds his hand out, and I shake it.
“Thank you.”
“Daddy, you can’t say that.” The girl goes bright red with embarrassment.
“Safe trip home,” I tell them, then moving away from the crowd, I give them a final wave, and head back toward the bus.
I can hear the others are already aboard, having avoided the signing frenzy, but it’s our manager hanging around outside that captures my attention. He’s smoking a cigarette, and the smoke’s twisting up into the air, illuminated by the lights from the bus. He traveled here tonight to see the first concert but will be returning home tomorrow. I’m surprised to see him because he’s not staying on one of the buses but in a nearby hotel.
“Fred.”
“You did good with the fans.”
“They’re the reason we’re here. I’ll keep signing as many autographs as I can until I get cramp.”
“There aren’t many people who will willingly do that.” Fred finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the ground.
“Is that the reason why we have the babysitter? To make sure we do the right thing instead of becoming one of those bands who mess up all the time.”
“No, I know with you leading the way there’ll always be positive stuff coming out from the band. Zoey is simply here to show it off better.”
I lean back against the bus. The crowds are still screaming in the distance while security try to get them to disperse.
“She’s really not going to fit in, you know. She’s wrong for us and is going to ruin everything. A man would have been much better.”
“Why is that, Tate? Is it because you wouldn’t need to feel guilty about fucking random chicks on the bus with your publicist looking on?”
Fred comes to stand in front of me. He’s a couple of inches shorter than me, so he isn’t imposing enough to scare me.
“Zoey Danson has experienced stuff you know nothing about, Tate Gordon. I wouldn’t have put her on this assignment if I didn’t think she could handle all your shit. You can push her all you want, but I’m telling you here and now, she won’t break. She’ll run and take a breath, but when she comes back, she’ll be fighting stronger and will give you a run for your money. She won’t back down. Accept she’s here, and get on with the tour in whatever way you choose. Don’t blame your insecurities on Zoey. They have nothing to do with her.”
I go to open my mouth to tell him to fuck off because he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but I know it’s not true. He does—he knows me very well, probably better than I know myself sometimes. Fred is a genius when it comes to business, and he’s obsessed with music as well. He can read the meaning in any lyric and know what’s going on in your head. He’s discovered all my secrets through my songs.
I huff, my shoulders moving up and down against the side of the bus.
“Don’t be upset if a future song talks about a manager who likes to stick his nose into business that doesn’t concern him.”
Fred raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I think you’ll find sticking my nose in places where it’s not wanted is part of the job description. How do you think the illegal drugs are kept away from you and band? They should be rife, but I’ve threatened the dealers to stay the fuck away. Now get back on the bus and enjoy your night.”
I don’t have an answer for my manager this time. I’ve always wondered why we haven’t been hassled like other bands to indulge in substances that are required, evidently, to make a party brighter. I’m grateful to him and show him my appreciation by giving him the middle finger, a form of affection in my world, before ascending the steps to the bus.
“Tate,” Fred calls after me.
“Yes.” Turning my head to see what he wants.
“You’ll apologize to her tomorrow, please.”
“Whatever.”
It doesn’t take me long to join the party going on inside. I feel a little lighter after my talk with Fred. I’ll apologize to Zoey tomorrow, but tonight it’s time to celebrate, and a few beers will certainly help. I’ll take Fred’s advice—I’ll stop worrying about the blonde babysitter and do whatever I want to do on this tour.
Cameron is already sucking on the tits of a woman sitting on his lap. Her breasts look good, natural for once. Austin is playing games with another couple of women on his PlayStation. They squeal with delight every time one of them shoots the other. Liam is chatting to a couple of others, and I choose to make my way over to them.
“Evening,” I address the threesome.
“Didn’t think you were going to join us tonight.” Liam looks up at me from where he’s been staring at one of the lady’s tits.
“Had
to sign a few autographs.”
“I’ve got a few things you can sign for me,” one of the women says as she slides over to me and places her hand in my lap.
She’s a pretty little brunette, wearing clothing that leaves little to the imagination. My dick instantly goes hard.
“Oh yeah, and what would they be?” I run my tongue over my lips.
“How about signing your name on my breasts with your cum?” She rubs her hand across the front of my jeans, and my dick pounds against the zipper, begging for her attention.
“I’m sure I can oblige. Do you want a drink and maybe get to know each other a bit first?”
“You’re Tate Gordon. I already know enough about you. All I need to know now is how big that dick of yours is in my mouth.”
“I’m good with that.” Standing up, I take her hand and lead her to the back of the bus, uncaring of whose night it is to take the big bed. As the lead singer and song writer, I might as well get some perks.
I’m on tour and need to embrace the rock star life.
Chapter 7
Zoey
#TateGordonHasTheWorldsSmallestDick
After a short walk to clear my head, I return to where the buses are parked behind the stadium. The crowds are starting to disperse, but I still have to show my ID badge to get anywhere near the band’s tour bus. Security is incredibly tight, which is to be expected.
Everyone here has come to see them and wants a piece of them. It’s a scary prospect for the four members when you really sit down and think about it. Anything could happen. It only takes one person to go a bit too far. I shiver at the thought and huddle my arms around my chest. I hope the fact I’m traveling on the bus with them doesn’t get out. It could make me a target for the crazy that always follows the famous around. Maybe I’ll ask Fred about any possible situations I should be aware of.
As I get nearer the bus, I can tell there’s some sort of party going on. I deflate a little. I’d been hoping it’d be over by now, and I could just crawl into bed and get some sleep. I was informed earlier it was my turn to have the big bed at the back of the bus tonight, and I couldn’t be more grateful—it’s been a long day. Thankfully, tomorrow we’ll be traveling on the road, and I can rest a bit in between working.
Ascending the steps of the bus, my stomach turns as I’m greeted by Cameron with a naked woman on his lap. She’s going up and down on the lead guitarist’s dick, riding him like he’s a horse. He sees me and winks.
I knew this would happen.
I can do this.
I give him a lame thumbs up and step around the two of them as best I can. It doesn’t get any better, though. Liam and Austin are entertaining another three women between them.
Pussy and tits everywhere.
Zoey, you really can do this, you can.
Groans of carnal ecstasy fill the bus, and all I can think about is making sure the cleaner is going to fumigate the seats tomorrow before I sit on them.
I’m old before my time. I probably should want to watch all the hotness—maybe dip my hand into my panties and have my own little party, but no, all I can think about is putting on rubber gloves and scrubbing the furniture to make sure all bodily fluids are removed.
“Are we behaving, Zoey?” Austin slurs his words a little as he thrusts into his woman.
Thankfully, the position the men are in means I don’t get sight of their private parts, but I definitely see more female parts than I care to.
I really should have checked the small print in the contract.
How will I face them all tomorrow morning?
“You’re doing well, Austin. Make sure the lady gets home safely afterward, and it’s a good news story.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m going to bed.”
I tiptoe over the clothes strewn on the floor and head toward the back of the bus.
“Zoey, wait!” Cameron calls out as I open the door to the bedroom. “Tate’s in there.”
Too late.
Inside, I see Tate sitting on the black sheeted bed, his legs wide apart, and a naked woman crouched between them. Her head bobs up and down with Tate’s hand twisted around her ponytail. I know exactly what she’s doing to him. My stomach turns. Tate has his eyes shut but must hear Cameron’s voice or the door creaking because he opens them and his gaze meets mine. His eyes widen when he sees it’s me—his pupils are as black as the night.
Get out and shut the door, Zoey.
I will myself to move, but I’m frozen to the spot.
Shut the fucking door and get into your bunk and hide under the covers until this whole sorry episode goes away.
Still, nothing, the link between my brain and the rest of my body has gone missing.
Tate shifts his hand in the girl’s hair, and I can’t help but follow the movement. He tightens his grip and lifts her head up so I can now see his naked body. He’s stunning—perfect in all the right places, sculpted, tattooed, godlike, and his dick is hard, long, and fierce looking as it waits to welcome back the willing mouth. I can’t take my eyes off it.
Pushing the girl aside, Tate stands up, and she protests with a small whimper. Unashamed at the fact he’s naked and aroused, he comes closer to me, but I still don’t move…I can’t. My legs have forgotten how to work—it’s as though they’ve grown roots and buried themselves into the floor of the bus. But worse than that, my eyes appear to have totally lost all sense and sensibility. I can’t make them move away from Tate’s cock and the way it’s standing proudly upright with no wavering to either side—there’s just a little bounce as he moves. I’ve become a complete pervert. In effect, this man is my boss. His musical talent pays my salary, and I’m staring at his dick like it’s the best lollipop in the world. I’m a freak. It’s officially been decided.
“Zoey, my eyes are up here.” Tate’s tone is amused, and I finally manage to lift my intense gaze a little higher up his body.
“Sorry…” I stumble over my apology because looking into his eyes isn’t any easier. They sparkle with his arousal.
I’m in big trouble.
“You didn’t say anything about having someone join us, Tate. But I’m happy to go along with it. She’s pretty enough. Even if she does need her entire wardrobe refashioned.” The girl, who’d moments earlier been sucking Tate’s dick, appears at his side—her hand with inch-long, fake nails is draped over his shoulder.
Tate momentarily flinches at her comments. It’s a brief reaction, but I see it, and it’s enough to break the spell he has over me.
What the hell was I thinking staring at him like he’s my last meal?
He’s a complete dick!
“No, thank you,” I spit out and give the girl my finest example of a look of disgust. “I’ve got better things to do than catch whatever STDs you’re passing between you. If you’ll excuse me, I was supposed to be staying in here tonight. I just need to grab a few things I placed in here before the concert.”
Holding my head up high and trying not to make eye contact with either of the lust-filled people in the room, I retrieve my bag and sling it over my shoulder.
“Are you going to let her talk to you like that? Who is she anyway?” the girl protests to Tate with the high-pitched shrill of a banshee.
“Nobody of importance to you,” Tate answers.
When I try to leave the room, he goes to grab me, but I shove him aside with my bag.
“Enjoy your night.”
I catch a glimpse of Tate’s furious stare when I offer my parting words. His face is like thunder, and his jaw ticks. I make sure to get the hell out of the room as quickly as possible, before he explodes. I may have angered him, but he’s disgusted me.
“Urgh!” I dump my bag back onto my assigned bunk, crawl under the sheets, and change in the darkness into my pajamas. All around me the sounds of sex fill the bus.
You can do this, Zoey. You have to do it!
I turn onto my side and stick my fingers
in my ears so I can’t hear anything.
Life will get better.
It has to.
It’s my turn to shine for once.
Who am I kidding?
I’m one of those doomed people.
My life is hell and always will be.
Chapter 8
Tate
#ABitOfColorNeverHurtAnyone
Once I’d kicked the brunette out of the bedroom last night, I sat on the bed and wrote down lyrics followed by even more lyrics. My dick wasn’t too impressed as it was still rock hard, but I couldn’t face anybody touching it, not even myself. After seeing the look on Zoey’s face, I knew I was totally and utterly screwed.
It’s morning when finally I get up from the bed and go in search of my clothes. I find a pair of workout pants and pull them over my lower half. None of the t-shirts lying on the floor smell decent, and we’ve only been on this bus for one night. I’ll worry about getting a fresh one after I’ve showered. My stomach rumbles informing me it’s time for food.
When I leave the bedroom, I can smell the intoxicating aroma of coffee permeating the bus, and I can hear chatter and laughter coming from the main living area.
“Seriously, Liam, please find some underwear. I don’t need to see your dick first thing in the morning,” Zoey complains and makes a gagging sound.
I maneuver myself so I can see her, but I remain hidden from view unless someone looks directly this way. Liam’s wandering around with everything on display. It’s a common occurrence between us all. We’re comfortable with each other’s bodies. We’ve seen them enough over the years and don’t bat an eyelid anymore. For Zoey, though, it’s different. She’s clearly not spent any time traveling on a bus with four naked grown men before, and the way she was looking at my dick like it was the tastiest treat in the world last night makes her seem naïve.