True Loves (A Collection of Firsts)

by Michelle A. Valentine

  I’m taken back. How could he possibly know I have even the slightest hint of reservation? “Noel…I…”

  He leaves one arm around my shoulder and threads my fingers with his free hand. “It’s okay. I know I’m moving kind of fast, but I can’t seem to help myself. All I want to do is be with you. Now that I have you back, I can’t see my life without you. When I think about my future, I think about you.”

  I want to be with Noel, but I don’t want to ruin this by rushing. We’ve only been reconnected for a couple days; there’s so much I don’t know about him anymore. Four years in the rock world pretty much equals ten in the real one. Everything is always on the move here. The most I can offer him is honesty. “I want to be with you too. I really do. But I think we need to take things slow. I mean, there’s no rush, right?”

  Noel’s shoulders sag. “I guess not.”

  He looks away, and I know I’ve hurt him. The familiar pain of heartbreak tears in my chest. I touch his cheek. “I’m not saying I’ll never move in, or that it’ll even take long. I’m just saying let’s see how the next couple of months go, and then we can talk about moving in together. For now, I’m here. And for now, I’m yours.”

  He turns those powerful blue eyes on me and nods. “If that’s all you can give me for now, then I’ll take it.”

  By the end of the week, I know I’ll probably feel the same way Noel does, but for now, we need to take it slow. I’m just glad he understands. Noel never was a very patient person. He’s always been an all-or-nothing type of guy. This compromising side of him is new, but I like it. It shows he’s grown. I kiss his lips just as we reach the arena. It’s another mammoth building, but nowhere near as big as the huge soccer stadium Black Falcon just filled back in Ohio. It’s my sixth day on the road with him, and I can see how a different city every night would get tiresome.

  The car stops beside Big Bertha. Trip sits on a short concert retaining wall across from the bus and slaps his thighs with drum sticks—Tyke beside him, a hood over his head, fiddling with his phone. Noel helps me out of the car and grabs my hand. I smile and glance at him. His eyes watch me intently as he runs his thumb over the back of my hand. Something is on his mind. I can tell. Years of being friends with a man do have some benefits.

  My smile fades. “Are you all right?”

  He runs a hand through his hair and scrubs it over his face. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

  I don’t buy his story, but I don’t want to rehash the same issue from the car ride over, if that’s what’s still on his mind. Hopefully, he really does understand and respect my need to take things slow. Most of the things I’ve done in a rush didn’t work out. Prime example: breaking up with him the first time.

  We just need time.

  Trip notices us and nods. “What’s up, love birds?”

  Noel smirks at the black-haired drummer. “Did you guys hang out here all day?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. This little town is boring as hell. They don’t even have a fucking Starbucks. Can you believe that shit?” Trip rolls his eyes at the city’s lameness. “The only thing to do is hang out on Bertha and play Xbox. Did you go over to the hotel?”

  “Lane and I did.”

  Trip grins. “Damn, dude. You’re a machine.”

  The skin on my face burns. I know I’m beet red. Did everyone on the bus hear everything we did yesterday?

  Trip laughs, and Noel shoves him. The force of the playful shove sends Trip against the shrubs behind him. That only causes him to laugh harder and his brother, Tyke, to join in.

  Noel pulls me by the hand toward the bus. “Ignore them. The more they see it gets to you, the more they’ll keep at it.”

  I want to die.

  I’ve never been overly sexual or boisterous about my sex life, so to suddenly have everyone on the planet—okay, maybe not the planet, but definitely the band and most of the Black Flacon crew—know Noel and I have been at it like rabbits since yesterday bothers me. It’s totally embarrassing. Noel opens the bus door and leads me inside. It’s surprisingly clean, and it smells like a cleaner of some sort and air freshener. This is most certainly a different, yet welcomed, sight.

  Noel notices my expression and grins. “Told you we’d get this cleaned up. We aren’t total animals, you know.”

  The toilet flushes, and my eyes scan the hallway, curious as to who is back there. Riff steps out wearing yellow rubber gloves and holding a spray bottle. My eyebrows lift. Riff is the last person on earth I’d expected was the domestic type.

  “You did all this?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to have to live in our filth. Plus…” He pauses and glances to Noel, then back to me. “It’s kind of a peace offering for teasing you in front of Aubrey. No hard feelings. All right?”

  I smile. “That’s very sweet of you. Consider it forgotten.”

  He grins and nods while Noel stiffens next to me. Clearly, the little act of kindness didn’t win him over as easily. I don’t get why Noel is like this with Riff. I figured he’d chill out a little bit after I’d reassured him Riff isn’t my type. I mean, Riff is kind of with Aubrey now. That alone should relieve his fear.

  A ringing cell phone cuts through the tense air. Noel reaches into his pocket and twists his lips. “I have to take this.” He answers the phone and tells the person on the other end to hold on a minute while he goes outside.

  Riff pulls off the gloves and opens the cabinet beneath the sink. He tosses them in a blue tub along with the cleaner. “I’m going to find Trip. I’ll catch you later, Lanie.”

  Riff pats my shoulder as he slides past me toward the door. I follow him out the door and spot Noel arguing on the phone. It looks heated and reminds me of the last time I caught him in a heated conversation over business. Riff stops in front of Noel, and they exchange a few words I can’t make out. Riff shakes his head and walks away. Noel’s eyes don’t leave him until he’s out of sight.

  I have the feeling there’s way more to their tense relationship than either of them are telling me. I’m going to have to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later if I’m going to make it on this bus for another week.

  18

  Noel really is amazing onstage. The way he belts out lyrics sets me in a trance—along with the other twenty thousand people in attendance tonight. I sway to the beat, and my head bobs in time to the music. It’s so easy to get lost in him.

  I don’t notice the scantily clad woman in fishnet stockings and five-inch stiletto heels approach until she’s directly beside me. Like me, the woman’s eyes fixate on the guys performing. The blonde is pretty much in a black bathing suit covered by a black—what I assume is supposed to be—dress. Only it doesn’t cover anything. The dress is basically strings held together on each side of her body by a three-inch piece of black fabric. She’s brave, I’ll give her that.

  I give her a polite smile when she catches me staring at her revealing outfit, and then I return my attention to the stage. I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever get used to all the women who hang around at shows.

  When the song ends, Noel thanks his screaming fans before he glances in my direction. His smile fades, and my eyebrows scrunch together at his sudden change of mood. He’s scowling at me. It’s the same evil look I catch him giving Riff sometimes.

  What’s his deal?

  The woman beside me has an odd expression, too, but she doesn’t appear mad—quite the opposite. Some might call it a shit-eating grin, which in my book always equals to “up to no good.” The hairs on my arms stand as I wonder how Noel knows this trashy-looking chick. Things start to click. He’s been with this woman. Why else would he act like that? As if he’s scared that she’s next to me. Like she might say something?

  My eyes scan the woman a little more closely. Her body is amazing, which is probably why she feels the need to show it off, but what else could he possibly see in her? For that matter, if he’s been with women who look like that, what is he doing with an a
verage girl like me?

  She turns toward me and smirks when she notices my stare. I’m tempted to smack it right off her face. “You can run off now.” She points her gaze back in Noel’s direction. He’s still staring at us. “I think we both know who’s getting Noel tonight.”

  My blood boils, and my hands ball into fists. “What?”

  She folds her arms over her chest. “Come on. Don’t play dumb. We both know I can do way more for him than, well”—she looks me up and down and laughs—“well, than you. I’m more his speed. You aren’t ready for the big leagues, Princess.”

  All of my coherent thoughts leave me. I want her to stop talking. Doesn’t she think I already know I’m not worthy of Noel? What gives her the right to rub it in my face? I don’t know where she gets off. Noel wants me, not her. I know that. I do. But the need to help her shut her mouth rips through me. I stand there, fists clenched, praying she just walks away from me.

  “Go on.” She uncrosses her arms and shoves my shoulder a little.

  The second she lays her skanky hand on me, I snap. My fist whips up and makes contact with her face before I even realize what I’ve done. She stumbles back but manages to stay on her feet. Blood trickles from her right nostril, and she wipes it away.

  Her eyes blaze with fury. “You bitch.”

  The woman lunges for me and shoves my shoulders. The electrical cords behind me tangle my footing, and I fall back. When I hit the floor, she jumps on me. My hair ends up in her hand, and she yanks my head to the side before she smacks my face. The blow rattles my skull. I’ve never been hit, and I’m surprised by how much it stings. I’m desperate to get her off me. I buck my hips when she draws back to hit me again. Before she has the chance, she flies off me.

  I scramble to sit up. After I’m up on my knees, I push forward after her before she has the chance to come back at me. Two large hands grab me under my arms and yank me to my feet. Adrenaline flows through my veins, and my eyes stay locked on the center of my anger. One of the crew members helps the blonde up, and I notice her “dress” is torn and hangs off her body. Her bikini top is also out of place, exposing one of her nipples.

  She readjusts her clothes and scowls at me.

  I didn’t even notice that the band had stopped playing until that moment, and every eye in the place, along with every camera, points in my direction.

  “Lane! Answer me. Are you okay?” Noel asks. My eyes dart to his face—his brow knitted in confusion and concern. I didn’t even realize he’s holding me. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head and gaze toward the crowd. Somehow, my little run-in with this chick ended up onstage in front of all these people. We must’ve rolled right on out here.

  Trampy girl flips me off before she turns away, and a security guard escorts her off the stage.

  The impatient crowd grows louder, and Riff picks up his guitar. “Noel, man, we need to wrap this show up. She’s fine.”

  Noel’s mouth pulls into a tight line. He doesn’t want to leave me alone, but he knows the crowd will rip this place apart if they don’t get the show they paid for. He touches my cheek and I flinch. “Go to the bus and put some ice on that. We’ll talk as soon as the set is over.”

  I don’t want to go. What I really want is answers about who that woman is and why she thinks she has claim over him. But now isn’t the time. I know that. Not with twenty thousand witnesses. Instead of making a scene, I nod, and Noel kisses my forehead.

  “Ice. I mean it,” he says as he steps away.

  A collective sigh echoes around the arena, and I want to puke. Can I deal with fighting women day in and day out over Noel? This isn’t me. I’m not the crazy girl willing to fight every woman who looks at her man. What’s wrong with me?

  A couple security guards escort me off the stage and ask me if I’m all right.

  “Sorry about that. Women. What can you do?” Noel says, and the crowd laughs. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it stings a little. “Bet you guys didn’t know you’d get two shows today.”

  The crowd laughs even harder, and then the drums kick up the beat. I want to die.

  Back on the bus, I manage to find a baggie and stuff it with ice. It stings when it touches my cheek, but the numbness on my skin is welcome. I can’t even make it one day without making enemies. I plop down on the couch and close my eyes. This day can’t possibly get any worse.

  There’s a knock on the outside door just as I get comfortable. That’s strange. I’ve never heard anyone knock on that door. Most of the guys come and go as they please on the bus, but the show is still going strong, so I know it can’t be anyone associated with the band. I don’t think I can handle any more crazed fans today.

  I shove up from the couch and twist the door handle. On the other side stands a very well put together Diana Swagger. Her red hair sits in a low bun against her neck, and her pressed, tan suit flatters her curvy figure. I look down at my torn black tank and jean shorts and panic surges through me. I’m a freaking disaster. I can only imagine what my hair and face look like.

  Diana removes her Gucci sunglasses. “What the hell happened to you?”

  I pull the ice pack away from my face and switch it to my left hand. I rub the moisture off my right hand onto my shorts before I stick it out to greet her. “Hi, Ms. Swagger. Won’t you come in?”

  Diana raises an eyebrow and doesn’t make a move to shake my hand. “You’re a complete disaster.” She scrunches her nose while she digs her phone from her purse. I drop my hand to my side. “Harold? Yes. Hi. I found her. She’s not…” She pauses and glances at me. “I’m not sure if this is going to work. You may need to come down here and get this account straightened out before we lose it completely.”

  Oh no. She’s firing me already? My heart leaps into my throat. If I don’t work for her, I have no reason to stay on tour with Noel. “Please, wait. This isn’t normally me. I wasn’t expecting you this early. Please come in, give me a chance to explain. I’m begging you.”

  Diana stares at me. “Harold. I’ll call you back.” She ends her call and shoves her phone in her purse. “Better be a damn good explanation.”

  Relief floods me as she brushes onto Big Bertha and I close the door.

  Diana looks around the bus. “You share this space with four men?”

  I step around the counter and stand across from her. “It’s not so bad. Noel and I share the bedroom in the back. The rest of the guys sleep in the foxholes.”

  Diana nods but doesn’t appear surprised. “So you and Noel are an item?”

  I tilt my head. “Well, yes. But you already knew that, right? ”

  “I had an idea.” She adjusts the purse straps on her shoulder. “That explains his motivation to get you here. Typically we don’t allow our employees to have personal relationships with our clients. This account with Black Falcon is rather large, and since Noel Falcon chose you personally, I have to let it slide. Just be warned, if Noel wants you gone, you’ll be terminated. That is not up for negotiation.”

  I swallow hard. Lose my boyfriend and I lose my job. Those are some hefty stakes. “Understood.”

  Diana sighs. “Good. Now that we’re the same page, let’s go over a few things, shall we?” She sets her purse on the counter and pulls out an iPad. After a few clicks, she sets it on the counter and turns it in my direction. “Here is your contract. H.R. apparently forgot to go over it with you, which is why I got so lucky to bring it to you myself. It’s standard, really. Basically, all it says is that you won’t sell, trade, or disclose any marketing campaigns we are working on for any of our clients. It also has a non-compete clause.”

  “Non-compete?” I understood everything else.

  “That means if you leave or become terminated, you can’t join a competing marketing firm within the state of New York for three years.”

  I swallow hard. New York is the Mecca of advertising. Sure, there are firms in other states, but my dream is to work for a firm in New York. That’s wher
e all the action is and where I live with Aubrey. But this job is my foot in the door. It’s my shot. I have to take it. Noel and I will be fine, right? “Where do I sign?”

  Diana hands me a pen to sign the electronic document. Once I’m done, she turns the device toward her. “Let me just email this back to the main office, and we’ll get down to business.”

  We chat for the next thirty minutes about how I’m expected to find out what the client—Noel—wants and how he wants his charity represented. Apparently, he told them he wanted me to have complete creative control over the campaign.

  My stomach twists into a knot. This is a lot of responsibility for a first job. I was expecting to have help, but Diana makes it sound as though I’m on my own. If this falls apart, it will totally be my fault.

  Diana checks her watch. “Any questions?”

  Only a million, but none I can ask without making myself look even more foolish than I already do. “No, ma’am. I think you’ve made things quite clear.”

  She stands and straps her purse over her right shoulder. “If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.” She hands me her business card, but I don’t think she’s sincere about me calling her. “My car is waiting. I have a flight in an hour.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “They didn’t allow you much time, did they?”

  Diana cocks her head to the side. “If it’d been any other client, you would’ve only received a phone call, not a personal visit. That’s how important this client is. Mr. Falcon’s happiness means a great deal to me. So make sure he stays that way.”

  There it is again, the little jab that I only have my job because of Noel. Apparently my marketing degree from the University of Texas means nothing. I follow Diana out of the bus and watch her get into a black Town Car. She doesn’t even look back, which confirms her pure loathing of me. Great.

  A shriek grabs my attention. A group of twenty or so females rush Noel as he makes his way toward the bus. He stops and takes a few quick pictures with the group, along with autographing a few things, before he glances at the bus. A shy wave is the best I can muster. Noel waves back while security holds back the screaming girls.