On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (11 page)

Chapter Seventeen

THE BOWLING ALLEY was a completely different experience.  For the first ten minutes, I had old high school acquaintances spot me and ask me about my life on the road.  And then one of them recognized CJ—and he actually called him
Siege
.  Awesome.  My nickname for him was sticking.

When we were finally left alone, we bowled one game while sipping hot cocoa with whipped cream.  Before the tenth round, I asked CJ if he wanted to wager anything.  “Like what?” he asked.

I laughed.  “How about that sweet car?  I know you could afford another one.”

He looked up at his score.  There was no way in a million years I could beat him.  Well, maybe a million, but it would definitely involve a miracle of some kind.  His score thus far was 168 and mine?  Well, let’s just say mine was barely over one hundred.  So I guessed there would be no way I could beat him at that point.

He grinned and started to say, “You know there’s—”

“Shh,” I interrupted, placing my index finger on his lips.  “Are you man enough to take my bet or not?”

He chuckled and then sucked my finger into his mouth. 
Holy shit.
  That was hotter than it had a right to be, and I was pretty sure he read that reaction all over my face.  I forced myself to let the air out of my lungs while he released my finger.  Then he replied, “Fine, darlin’, I’ll take your bet.”

“Sweet.  I love that car of yours.  Now…what do you want
me
to wager?”  I chewed on my bottom lip a second before adding, “I could make some suggestions.”

He blinked once, slowly and methodically, a slight grin making his eyes twinkle.  “I’m sure you could.  Why do I get the feeling you’re being naughty?”

My smile grew wider.  “Am I
that
obvious?”

“Mm-hmm.”  Yeah, like he hadn’t encouraged it.

“Okay, so let’s take care of this last frame.”

“But the bet—”

“How about…”  He lifted my ball off the return and held it in his palm for me to grab.  I stuck my fingers in the holes and he continued.  “I choose my prize if I win?”

Oh.
  Okay.  That would involve a lot of trust.  Two seconds and I decided—I
knew
I trusted him.  Two more seconds and I felt a thrilled shiver charge through my spine wondering just what he’d choose.  I nodded.  “All right.  Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.  Good luck, babe.”

Another shiver darted through my body.  He hadn’t called me
babe
often, but I loved when he did.  I couldn’t quite smile at him as I took my ball out of his hand and walked up to the line.  I adjusted my wrist, trying to compensate for the weird veer the ball had been doing for every frame I’d bowled.  Then I took a step forward and swung the ball, closing my eyes as I let go of it.  I kept them closed, listening for the sound of the ball hitting the gutter.  But that sound never came.  In fact, I heard the steady whirring sound of the ball rolling down the lane in a straight-ish path.

I finally peeked through the slit of one of my eyelids and saw that my ball was still traveling right down the middle, ready to hit the front pin.

And it did.  My first strike of the evening.  I couldn’t help but squeal (not metal at all, I know) and then I jumped up and down.  I knew I’d get to throw the ball twice more now, and I turned around, smiling wide.  “I got you now, mister!”

CJ grinned and brought the fingers of both his hands to his mouth, imitating the act of biting all his fingernails off.  “Oh, no.”

Even had I hit all the pins twice more, I would haven’t beaten his score.  But I didn’t even come close.  Nope.  I knocked down five pins on my next roll and three on the one after.  I was still behind, and CJ hadn’t even had his turn yet.

He picked up the heavy black ball off the return and said, “This doesn’t even seem fair.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Just get it over with.”

He threw the ball, this time
not
getting a strike, but he did get a spare and an extra ball.  Talk about adding insult to injury.  So, as we took our bowling shoes off and put our street shoes back on, I said, “Well?”

He looked over at me.  “Well
what
?”

“What’s it gonna be?”

He shrugged.  “I have to think about it a little bit.”

So we turned in our shoes and threw away our paper cups from the cocoa and walked outside into the cold.  “Have you decided yet?”

He laughed.  “Nope, not yet.”  We got to his car and, after letting it run for a few seconds, he turned the heater on.

“Okay…
now?
”

He laughed.  “Impatient.”  He reached over and turned down the radio.  “I think I’ll collect sometime this summer.”

Oh.  Oh, God,
no
.  I knew what that meant.  That meant he
did
want to have sex with me, but he was going to make me wait until I was eighteen.  That stupid fucking rule of his.  But I kept my anger in check and instead figured out a way to slither myself in between his body and the steering wheel to straddle him.  He was laughing again and held his arms up to allow me to sit on his lap facing him.  I pressed my forehead into his.  It was only thanks to the glow of the dashboard and the lights in the parking lot that I could see his deep brown eyes in the darkness of his car.  “I
want
you to collect
now
, dammit.”

And there was that magnetism, that draw, that
need
I felt for him as my lips brushed over his.  My eyes were closed by then and he responded—thank the heavens he responded—touching my tongue with his.  It was another magical kiss, one that transported me out of that car and into the sky, out of the freezing night air and into a flaming furnace.  My fists were gripping his leather jacket, and I could feel his hands on the small of my back through my coat.  But as I kept kissing him, I got an inkling that he might be changing his mind.

That inkling was getting harder against my jeans.

Yeah.  That was what I wanted, and that indication was all I needed to know that I could talk him into it
now
.  So I kept kissing him, unwilling to let up, until the car actually started feeling too warm with all the layers I had on.  I pulled back a little, as much as the steering wheel would allow, and started unzipping the front of my coat.

“Mmm, Kyle.  Stop.”

“Why?”

“We can’t do it in here.”

“Why not?”

“Seriously?  It can’t be done.  The space is too tight.”

“That’ll make it more exciting.”

He placed his hands on my cheeks, in effect, stopping me from kissing him anymore.  “Kyle, I
want
to.”  Yeah, I had no doubt, but I wasn’t going to say it.  “But I told you I won’t.  Not till you’re eighteen.”

I squinted at him, although the effect was likely lost in the dim car.  “You know that’s fucking stupid, right?”

“To you, maybe, but if I don’t have my honor, I’ve got nothing, Kyle.”

God.  I thought
that
was fucking stupid too.  Honor.  And yet, I cared about CJ and I also respected the hell out of him.  As much as I wanted him, I wasn’t going to make him break a promise to himself.  I wasn’t going to exploit his weakness, either.  If he wasn’t willing to sleep with me without me begging…then I didn’t want him.

“Fine.”  I pulled myself off his lap—an awkward feat, believe me—and plopped back down in the passenger seat.  “Then take me home.”

“Come on, Kyle.  Don’t be mad at me.”

I huffed, but I tried to make my voice calm and steady.  “I’m not mad at you.”  He reached over and turned down the heat, and then he put the car in reverse.  Soon we were on the way back to my house.

I couldn’t help myself.  Halfway there, I said, “You know you’re a pussy tease, right?”

“What?”  I repeated what I said and then he started laughing.  “What the hell’s a
pussy tease
?”

“Same as a cocktease, only for girls.”

I saw him bite his lip as he turned into the residential section where my house was located.  “I promise I’ll follow through, but—”

“I know.  I know.  Not till I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah.”

We were quiet on the way home, and we arrived early enough that my parents actually invited him in, and we played a quick game of Trivial Pursuit before I walked him to the door.  I stepped outside, even though he urged me not to, because I wanted to give him a kiss goodbye.

I wanted to give him a last taste before I saw him again.  I wanted him to have something to remember me by.

“I’ll be waiting,” I said.

He nodded and smiled and touched my nose with the tip of his finger.  “I know.  Not long now.”

Yeah, right.  For all my body knew, it might as well have been years—because that was what it was beginning to feel like.

“Fully Alive” ~ Flyleaf

Chapter Eighteen

ON MONDAY AROUND noon, the Vagabonds were heading to Nevada.  I’d glanced over the itinerary the night before, relieved that we appeared to be spending the rest of the winter in warmer states.  We had a couple of stops in southern Nevada, then southern California, and on to Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and the rest of the extreme south until we’d wind up in Florida and start making our way up the east coast for a bit before veering inward again.

I brought my coat anyway, because it had been well below freezing when my parents had driven me from Winchester to the Vagabonds’ meeting spot in Colorado Springs.  I knew I’d probably wind up leaving it in the van once we got to our first destination, but I needed it for the moment.

The vibes—oh, God, the weird vibes I was picking up when we got back together.  I should have thought more about my bandmates while I was on our tiny break, but I hadn’t.  I’d spent that time enjoying my family, relishing sleeping late and waking up feeling great, appreciating my mom’s cooking (there was nothing like her cooking, and she just got better and better as time went on), playing around online—not only “mingling” with new fans but also listening to and buying new music and also purchasing some ebooks for the times on the road when I’d get bored…and flirting with CJ.

Although he was beginning to feel like a lost cause.

But things now felt strange.  We were standing in the parking lot, waiting for Barbie to arrive (so what else was new?), and I tried to assess what was going on.  Things were tense and unusually quiet.  After my mom and dad left, Kelly said, “Hey, Kyle.  I’m gonna go get some Starbucks for the road.  You want some too?”

I took that query for what it really was—an excuse to get me alone so we could talk.  So I nodded, making sure I had cash in my pocket.  The ruse wouldn’t fool anyone if I didn’t come back with something in hand.

Liz said, “Me too.”  Well…so much for that.

But when we got close to the building and far enough away from both vans that we wouldn’t be overheard, Kelly said, “You missed it all, Kyle.”

I nodded.  “I could tell something was going on.  What the hell happened?”

Okay, so apparently Liz wasn’t part of the weirdness, because Kelly was fine talking about it with her.  She pulled the glass door open, and I was hit with the smell that is Starbucks—you know, that underlying, slightly burned coffee bean odor that all Starbucks have, and I started salivating, knowing that sweet caffeinated goodness was just ahead.

We walked toward the line and she said, “Peter, TT, and Bad Dog were already here when I got here, and Peter was doing something on his phone.  It was just a few minutes later when Andrew and Vicki showed up together.  I think they might have gotten a ride or, hell, maybe they walked here from somewhere else, but Peter immediately told Andrew he needed a word with him.  They walked over to the other side of the equipment van, and Andrew was shouting after a minute or two.  Vicki ran over there and started screaming too, and that’s when Liz got here.”

“So what the hell were they arguing about?”

We were interrupted while we gave the cashier our coffee order, but when we slid down the line to wait for our drinks, Kelly resumed.  “I’m not sure what all the commotion was about.  I only caught bits and pieces, but I get the idea Vicki and Andrew are together and they’re not hiding it.”

I almost made a smart ass comment, because all the girls but me had fucked him as a group, and he and Barbie hadn’t been too secretive about their little relationship early on tour.  Vicki, though?  That seemed odd…and she hadn’t said a word to me about it.  So I just nodded.

Quiet Liz said, “I think they spent the entire week shooting up.”

I felt my eyes grow wide as her words sank in.  You mean…heroin?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, God, no.  No.

That hadn’t taken long, had it?

Before I could even say anything else, the barista said, “Mocha latte for Kelly.”

She grabbed her drink and then I said, “Shit.  I knew she was moving into the harder stuff, but
fuck
.  You think he’s supplying her?”

Liz shrugged.  “No idea.  And this is just speculation on my part…just based on what seemed to be going on our last week on tour.  They were nowhere online last week—they disappeared.  And then when they show up?  They look strung out and dog tired—and they were holding hands.  So—just speculation.”

“But it sounds well-founded.”

“Vanilla latte for Kyle.”  I turned and took the drink off the counter and the barista said, “Crap.  You guys are the Vagabonds, right?”

It took me a second to register what he was saying, because I was too immersed in the conversation I’d been having with my friends about the girl who was probably my
best
friend and completely tearing herself apart.  What should I do?  How should I handle it?  Was Vicki going to kill herself—and was Andrew a willing assistant?

But I’d already learned in the short time we’d been on the road and exposed to rabid fans that you never let them see what’s really going on with you.  Nope, you put on a happy face.  I’d already seen Black Matter treat a few of their fans like shit and it had influenced the way I, a fan, felt about them.  The fans just want to tell you that you’re their favorite band or shake your hand.  They don’t want to know that you’ve had a shitty day.  They don’t want to hear that your best friend is on the fast track to becoming a junkie and that now is a bad time to talk.  And, believe me, if you give them a reason to lose respect for you or think you’re a fucking bitch, they’ll run with it and never look back.  Now,
you
might think, “Oh, well…it’s only one person,” but one person usually has lots of friends.  I’m not giving any of those people a reason to feel justified about pirating my music.  Besides, it’s bad karma.

So, this cute little barista (I shouldn’t say
little
—he was in his early twenties) said, “So I’m guessing this Chai Tea is for—Liz, right?”

She also had the same idea I had, that fans are to be respected and treated well, and so she smiled politely and said, “Right on both counts.”

I threw up the metal horns and said, “Thanks, man.  You’re giving us just the fuel we need for the road.”

“Still on tour?”

“Yeah.”

“When do we get a concert here in Colorado?”

Kelly said, “We did a small concert in August, but that was before the album was released.”

I nodded.  “We’ll be doing a show in Denver sometime in July—with Death Crunch.”

Liz added, “Details are on our website.”

“Dude, Death Crunch is hardcore.”  He was getting ready to say more, but one of his coworkers came up behind him, acting like she was going to say something.  Before she could talk, though, he said, “These ladies are from the Vagabonds.”  The woman had a confused look on her face until he added, “You know, the rock band?”

“Oh, yeah.”  She turned and raised her voice, “Kendra!  Come here!”  She turned back to us.  “Sorry, but she’s a huge fan.”

Needless to say, we were then stuck at Starbucks for another ten minutes, signing autographs and answering questions and, when we left, we weren’t thinking about Vicki anymore.  We were thinking about how awesome our band was and, when we got to the vans, Barbie was finally there…and we were blamed for why we were getting a late start.  Jesus.

Typical bullshit.  Goddamn, wasn’t it fun to get back on the road?

* * *

Well, I discovered over the next few weeks that it was all true—Vicki and Andrew were fucking each other and fucking up their lives together.  I’d known Vicki to be impressionable, easily influenced, and eager to try out the next high, but Andrew had seemed to have such a semi-level head.  I think he was just surrounded by too much pussy and too little responsibility.  He had no idea how to reign it in.

The fans, the music, though—they were always amazing, and they were what I was there for in the first place.  I was just sick and tired of the lack of professionalism my fellow musicians continued to display.  Barbie was always the last one on the van when it was time to get to the next venue.  We started telling her we had an earlier call time, but she was too smart for us.  Once, just once, I wished we’d fucking leave without her and make her find her own way to the venue.  Liz—or, hell, even
I
—could sing the songs if it came down to it.  But no.  Instead, we continued to reward her childish behavior by letting her continually be late.  And I knew Peter wasn’t planning to withhold from her pay.  Nope…even though he’d lectured us about punctuality early on.  She was clearly his favorite, and we all just had to deal with her prima donna bullshit because of it.

And then it was getting down to wondering night after night if Vicki would be sober enough to play.  There were nights she could hardly hold on to her sticks, and I stressed out, hoping she could make it through the whole set.  There were nights she’d be playing the beat to a different song until one of us would glare at her or walk up to the drum kit waiting for her to look at us and then give us a sheepish look and change what she was doing.  It was ridiculous.

Because of Barbie and Vicki’s antics, it was easy to overlook what my other bandmates were doing.  Kelly had withdrawn and her happy, perky self was not so much anymore.  I blamed Peter.  We were kicking ass, but he continued to treat us like dirtbags.  He had no people skills whatsoever.  Drill sergeant, my fucking ass.  More like Vlad the Impaler.

So Kelly was drinking.  A lot.  Every night, she’d party till she was drunk and falling over, and then she was barely functioning the next day.  I partied too, but the music was always first.  It didn’t matter if my head hurt.  The show must go on.

Liz…Liz was her usual quiet, hardworking self, but she decided to explore her sexuality.  The problem there was that she was also sometimes hard to locate.  She had plenty of money (I was guessing she’d made up with mommy and daddy) and started paying for her own room.  I was no fool.  I knew she’d done it so she could indulge her sexual appetites and explore her tastes without having to find odd out-of-the-way places or put herself in compromising situations.  That worked for a while.

All my bitching here might lead you to believe that I was a perfect fucking angel.  I was
not
.  I just hadn’t been pushed over the edge again.

One night before a show, Vicki was on Facebook on her phone and she let out a loud gasp.  Barbie and I both asked what she was making a big deal over.

She acted innocent.  “Oh, nothing.”  She set her phone down on her lap, but it was clear to both me and Barbie that she was setting it down as bait.

Frankly, I was tired of playing games, and Vicki had worn me thin.  But Barbie darted across the room.  “Don’t be cutesy, Sticky,” she said and snatched the phone from Vicki before she could do anything else.

Vicki let out the requisite
Hey!
but she wasn’t fooling either of us.

Barbie touched the screen and moved her finger and then gasped too.  She handed the phone back to Vicki.  I was getting pissed.  “Oh, Jesus Christ.  What?”

Barbie snatched the phone again and giggled before her laughter turned raucous.  “No. 
No.
  You can’t see this, Kyle.”

I rolled my eyes and I could feel my blood pressure begin to rise, but this shit would go on all fucking night if I let them know they were getting to me.  “Fuck off.”  I started to walk out of the room.  I didn’t need this nervous energy right before a show.

Barbie raced back across the room and grabbed my arm.  “Kyle, I’m sorry.  But we really shouldn’t hide this from you.”

“What the hell?”  I couldn’t help but look down.  I stared for a few moments, not sure what it was I was seeing.  But, as I focused, there was no question.  It was a picture of CJ, dressed in a suit, with his hand on the back of a young woman wearing a gown of some kind.  Both were smiling at someone to the right of the camera.

I clenched my jaw because, for one of the first times I could think of, I wanted to cry.

From the depths of my soul.