by Anna Edwards
“Just shut your eyes. I need coffee,” Liam moans, stumbling into the kitchenette and flailing his hands around in search of the caffeinated reviver.
I could do with a cup myself, but I stay hidden, wanting to keep watch for some reason.
Zoey glances up from where she’s sitting at the table. It has paper’s strewn all over it along with stickers, scissors, and glue. She takes one look at Liam and gives him a look of disgust. His ass is facing her, but when he turns around, she’s now looking directly at his dick. She doesn’t freeze the way she did with me. Instead, she screws up her nose and covers her eyes.
“Cover yourself up, Liam,” she orders with authority.
“For fuck’s sakes.” Liam looks around him.
There’s an assortment of clothes scattered all over the floor. He reaches down and grabs the pair of pants nearest to him, ones I happen to know aren’t his, because only Austin wears green pants on this bus—apparently, it’s a nod to his Irish heritage. Liam doesn’t care. He slips them on, commando, and covers up his private parts.
“I’m decent,” he moans and returns to trying to pour himself a coffee.
Zoey slowly scissors open the fingers covering her eyes. When she’s confident Liam’s no longer flashing himself to one and all, she lowers her hands and resumes whatever it is she’s doing at the table.
Something flutters in my chest. I can’t describe it, but I feel happy she didn’t give Liam’s dick the same attention she gave to mine. She was genuinely repulsed and annoyed he was walking around naked, yet with me, it was like she was trapped in a spell and didn’t really want to walk away. Well, until the brunette insulted her. Anger flares in me now. Why did I put myself in this position? And why is my dick stirring again at the thought of Zoey liking my appearance? Don’t go there, Tate, stay away. She’s got that darkness behind her eyes, and it’ll only lead to disaster.
Suddenly a body slams directly into me. One of the other guys has decided to slide from their bunk without paying any attention and has landed on me.
“What the hell, man.” Cameron rubs his eyes. His shaggy hair is all over the place, and he looks like he had a good night. “Why are you lurking in the corridor? Shift it, I need coffee.”
Cameron’s voice is so loud that Liam and Zoey must hear him because they both turn our way to see what the commotion is.
“I’m going,” I mumble and stumble forward.
I can’t take my eyes off Zoey’s reaction to me. Her cheeks have gone red, and she looks me up and down quickly before burying her head in her paperwork again, trying unsuccessfully to ignore my presence.
Cameron barges past me and grabs a coffee before I can pour my own.
“Man, I think the blonde broke my dick. I’ve got chafing.” Cameron is wearing workout pants and adjusts himself.
“Need to get them wetter,” Liam says as he takes a seat at the table with Zoey.
She looks up at him and glares.
“She was plenty wet.” Cameron chuckles, his deep voice reverberating around the bus. “How about you, Tate? What was yours like? You disappeared pretty quick into the bedroom with her.”
Zoey places the pen she’s holding down, and I can see her head lower. The conversation is making her uncomfortable, and I find myself wanting to put a stop to it.
“Nothing happened. She left shortly after.” I cough into my hand and tilt my head toward Zoey. “Not sure this is appropriate conversation over the breakfast table.”
Both Cameron and Liam look in Zoey’s direction before turning back to me. They stare at me with open mouths like I’ve suddenly grown two heads or something.
“Okay,” Cameron singsongs and pours himself a second coffee, having downed the first already, despite it being hot. “Morning, Zoey, what you up to?” my idiot best friend says pointedly, making it totally obvious what had prompted my comment. However, Zoey seems to shrug it off and stares him straight in the face.
“I’m making a schedule. We’ve been on this bus for twenty-four hours, and it’s already a pigsty. I don’t even want to know who was last in the bathroom, but it’s disgusting. I have to live here alongside all of you. We’re going to install some discipline and well…health and safety.”
“Schedule?” I question, and stepping forward, I stand to the right of her, peering over her shoulder.
She has indeed developed a schedule. To be more precise, she’s written a long list of daily chores with our names beside each of them. It’s decorated in lots of different colors and adorned with motivational stickers. When I look down at the table, I see even more colored stickers and tapes as well as a journal sitting open, embellished to within an inch of its life.
“Er, don’t we have people to come and clean up after us?” Liam scratches his head.
“You do, but there’s no reason we need to live like slobs. It only takes a few minutes to pick up dirty clothes or wash some dishes. I may be a woman, but I’m not going to be doing the bulk of the chores. I have to work as well. I know it’s not as exciting as going out on stage, but it’s still important for your future. I don’t have the time to look after you all like a mother hen.”
Zoey puts Liam in his place and finishes coloring in a red square with my name on it. It informs me that this morning I need to ensure the main bedroom is clean for the next person sleeping in it.
I reach over and pick the schedule up to examine it.
“I’m not cleaning any toilets,” I inform her and press my finger onto the red square that has me doing just that tomorrow morning.
“It’ll take two seconds. All you have to do is ensure it’s flushed and the bowl is clean. There is a spray next to the toilet. You just have to give it a quick squirt.”
“I’m not cleaning any toilets,” I repeat and drop the schedule in front of Zoey.
She lets out a frustrated sigh and places her head in her hands.
“Please, I’m not asking you all to wear rubber gloves and give the bus a deep clean every day. I’m just asking for basic cleanliness to be checked to make it comfortable for everyone in here. It’s about decency and showing care for the other people around you. I know it probably doesn’t bother you all to wake up and be faced with empty bottles, used condoms, and dirty underwear of both the male and female variety on the floor in the morning, but it made me feel”—she gulps a deep breath—“uncomfortable. I’m sorry if it makes me sound like a prude, but I just wanted you to know, and I thought this would help.”
We all look around the room. It’s a mess and not the least bit hygienic. Cameron and Liam then turn their attention to me when they realize what they’ve left strewn around. I pick the schedule up again and look at it. It’s not bad, really. She’s right—it’s common sense stuff.
“Ok, we’ll adopt it,” I say and hand it to Liam to inspect. “You like making things look pretty.” I gesture to Zoey’s collection of bits and pieces on the table.
“I’m a bit of a planner addict. Any spare cash I get, I like to treat myself. You can get some good stuff really cheap in the sales.” She points proudly to a hole punch with about ten different holes. “I managed to get that at two-thirds of its usual price, and the tape comes from China—it’s really cheap.”
“So you prefer to spend money on stickers than clothes,” I observe and instantly realize I’ve hit a nerve when she starts to gather all her stuff together in a fluster. I reach out and grab her hand just as she’s about to pick up her journal. “Zoey, I’m sorry. I didn’t say it to be mean.”
“I don’t have money for designer clothes. I’ve got bills to pay,” she replies quietly and flatly. “But yes, I prefer to use any spare cash to buy things for decorating my planners and journal.”
I look down at her journal and read the sticker placed on the cover.
‘No matter what you look like on the outside, be confident the person on the inside is beautiful’.
“I like that.” I point to the sticker. “More people need to have it as a motto. Too ma
ny worry about the outside rather than the inside.”
“They do. If I believe in what I can do, then it doesn’t matter what I look like on the outside. I don’t need designer clothes to prove I’m a good person, and I like to help others.”
“I agree, but sometimes a little boost on the outside helps as well. This is a strange world we’re in. There’s a culture of looking at the façade rather than the heart, and there’ll be times when you’ll come under pressure because of what you’re wearing. God, ask Austin all about it. He’s got an eclectic fashion sense, and the press ridicule him for it.”
“I can look after myself, don’t worry.”
I realize I’m now sitting next to Zoey. Somewhere during our conversation, I moved to be closer to her.
“The schedule tells me that, but I don’t want you to have to do it alone. This babysitter gig—I think it goes both ways. You want to be able to do your job and protect us, but you can’t if you’re getting slighted all the time.”
“Tate, please, I can’t…”
I place my finger to her lips to silence her, and I’m shocked she doesn’t bite it off.
“Guys, get Austin up and direct the driver to find the nearest mall. We’re going shopping.”
Whoops and cheers go up from my two bandmates as they go off in search of the third.
“I can’t let you do this. I can’t afford…”
I press my finger harder against her succulent lips—they’re the perfect shade of pink.
“You’re not paying, so no more arguing.”
Chapter 9
Zoey
#MaybeTateGordonIsntSoBadAfterAll
“Have you ever seen ‘Pretty Woman’?”
Tate straightens to his full height as he talks to the male manager of the shop. Liam, Cameron, and Austin flank him, and I’m hiding behind them while the band’s security works around us to empty the store of anyone who isn’t essential to us being here.
“I have, sir.”
“That’s what I want her to feel like this afternoon,” Tate continues.
The manager silently nods his head in understanding. He’s looking a little intimidated by the four heavily tattooed guys with crazy hair, wearing leather and denim outfits and towering over him.
“A whore?” Austin questions with confusion, and Cameron whacks him in the stomach.
“Not that part, asshole. The part where she gets all the expensive clothes, and everybody’s nice to her.”
“Oh, I skipped that part. Julia Roberts was wearing too much at that point.”
The two men laugh, but all I feel is an overwhelming need to run as far as possible from the shop. However, I can’t because Tate has a tight grip on my hand, and he pulls me in front of him.
“Make her look and feel special,” Tate orders as he almost thrusts me at the manager.
“Immediately, sir.”
The manager waves over a couple of his female staff, and I’m ushered into a changing room where my old jeans and t-shirt are stripped off me, and a tape measure is wrapped around all the vital parts of my body.
“She’ll need underwear as well,” one of the women says as she looks disapprovingly at the bra and panties I’m wearing.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. All right, they’re a few years old…well, approaching five years old and have seen better days, but they serve their purpose.
“This bra size is all wrong. We want to accentuate our breasts not flatten them into hiding,” the same woman continues, shaking her head, and I feel guilty my underwear is so objectionable.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
The other woman who hasn’t spoken yet wraps her arms around me. “Don’t worry, my darling. We’ll get you looking a million dollars in no time at all. I’m Ellie and my colleague is Penny.”
I melt into her, allowing her reassurance to comfort my entire body as I let a few tears fall. I don’t know this woman, but her kindness is my undoing, and I allow myself to lament my situation. After a few moments, I dry my eyes and the two women step back and give me some time to compose myself.
“Right, I’m ready,” I finally announce with a smile.
“Good, give us a few minutes, and we’ll be back. Any favorite colors?”
“Pinks, blues, and purples.”
Ellie winks at me, and they both disappear out of the dressing room.
“Are you all right in there?” A deep timbered voice comes through the changing room door a few moments later. I instantly recognize it as Tate’s.
“I’m good, just waiting for the ladies to find some outfits for me,” I shout back.
“Are you sure?” Tate’s voice is closer this time, and I realize he’s standing immediately behind me. I scramble to cover myself, suddenly fully aware of the tatty underwear I’m wearing.
“You can’t be in here. Get out!”
He rolls his eyes.
“You’ve got girl parts, so what?” He lowers his eyes and surveys my body. It’s virtually impossible to shield everything from him, and he suddenly gulps. “Okay, maybe I should leave. If you need anything, just shout. Pick out whatever you like. Don’t worry about the cost. The other guys and I are covering it between us.”
I nod, still uncomfortable at him being in the changing room. My body is starting to heat with the way he’s looking at me. He bites his lip, and without saying anything else, he leaves the room but not before taking one final look at me frantically trying to cover my vital parts.
Breathe, Zoey.
A second later, the ladies return. “We’ve got so many great things for you to try on.”
I’m beyond grateful for the distraction as I’m dressed and undressed in a variety of outfits. Jeans, skirts, dresses…leather, denim, silks. You name it, I try it on. Some look good, but others are a bit too much for me, and I reject them straight away. All of the clothing is casual, though, apart from a couple of evening dresses that, according to the women, Tate requested in case we have to attend any functions as part of the tour. Nothing is screaming suitable for work to me.
“Shouldn’t I get some suits? I’m supposed to be working after all.”
The women give each other a knowing look that indicates something has been said about my suits.
“What?” I question.
“Mr. Gordon specifically requested no suits. He wants you to dress like them for the tour even when you’re working,” Penny explains.
Ellie coughs.
“I believe his exact words were, ‘She has a killer ass in a tight skirt, but suits aren’t really us. While she’s traveling with us, she’s one of us. The suits have to go.’…or words to that effect.”
I chuckle because Ellie’s comment does indeed sound exactly like something Tate would say.
“Okay,”—I pause as a thought hits me—“but I’d like one skirt. Do you have a tight leather one?”
I’m not sure where the minx inside me is coming from, but if Tate won’t let me wear a suit, I’m going to frustrate him with a short, tight leather skirt instead. Why not? I’ve got the legs for it—they’re not too skinny and full of muscle from all the walking I do.
“I know just the skirt.” Ellie smirks at me and disappears out of the changing room.
“I suppose this must all seem very strange to you?” I try to engage with Penny.
“Not really, we get all sorts through here. I’m just glad you seem happy. I don’t know what made you cry earlier, but it’s lovely to see a massive smile on your face now. It makes you look gorgeous. Mr. Gordon is a lucky man.”
“Oh, we’re not dating or anything,” I interject.
“Yet,” Penny mouths just as Ellie returns with the leather skirt.
I try it on, and it fits perfectly.
“I love it.”
They match it with a t-shirt and a pair of cute cut-off boots, which make my legs seem to go on for miles.
“Penny,” Ellie addresses her colleague. “I think we should call Jennifer
and get her in here.”
“Agreed.”
“Who’s Jennifer?” I ask as Penny picks up a telephone, situated on the wall in the corner of the room, and makes a call.
“You’ll see.”
A few minutes later, another lady enters the room. She’s carrying a big box with her.
“I see what you mean.” She looks me up and down with a warm smile on her face. “I know just what she needs. Subtle but foxy.”
“Subtle but foxy?” I question, getting nervous as to what’s happening.
The new woman, Jennifer, opens the box and starts laying out all different types of makeup. “I’ll put a bag together for you with instructions, don’t worry. What’s your usual skin care routine?”
“Er, soap and water, lipstick, and a bit of mascara if I have time.”
“A natural beauty. God, I use every potion under the sun to look only half as good as you. It’s not fair sometimes,” Jennifer complains with a sigh.
All three women stand around me, staring at my face. Eventually, Jennifer pulls out a small bottle of liquid foundation and checks the shade against my skin tone before she starts applying it to my cheeks. I turn and look in the mirror as she does my makeup. It’s subtle, but gives me a warm glow. I’ve never seen myself this way before, and it takes my breath away.
“You should consider getting some color in your hair as well. Give it a bit more depth and fun. I can’t do it now, but I’ve got some hair sprays that will make it look interesting.”
Jennifer reaches into her box, and taking out a spray can labeled purple, she pulls on a strand of my hair and squirts the can. My blonde hair turns a vibrant shade of purple. I adore it. I’ve always wanted to color my hair like this, but even if I’d had the money to do it, I wouldn’t have known where to start.
“I love it,” I exclaim and do a little twirl in front of the mirror.
In my new clothes, underwear, makeup, and colored hair, I feel like a completely different person, but I know deep down I’m not. This is the person I was always meant to be.