Sinners On Tour 01 Backstage Pass (31 page)

“Brian?” she whispered when he broke their kiss.

He tugged the ear bud out of her ear. “Yeah, baby?”

“If I wanted to restrain you, would you let me?”

He chuckled. “You know I would. Do you want to switch places now?”

She smiled. Jeremy would have never even considered al owing her to have total control. Brian was so different than that frigid bastard. That Brian would be wil ing to submit to her without any hesitation had her thinking of al sorts of things she wanted to do to him. But for now, she wanted him to continue. She was enjoying this far too much to want it to end just yet. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’l look forward to it,” he growled into her ear and then settled the ear bud back in place.

The bus lurched to a sudden halt, sending empty beer cans scuttling over Myrna’s sandals. Something thick and gooey spil ed from one of the cans and trickled between her toes. She retched and jumped from the bench, slipping with her first step and sticking to the floor on her second. She’d had enough! She stomped over to where the guys sat perched on a pile of dirty clothes playing a video game in the living area. There was a sofa under that mountain of filth somewhere.

Myrna planted her fists on her hips and glanced from one band member to the next. “Al right, guys. Some things need to change around here.”

Four pairs of eyes turned toward Brian.
Control your chick
, they seemed to say.

She pointed to her foot. “Would someone like to tel me what just dripped out of a beer can onto my foot?”

“A loogie?” Trey guessed.

“As in phlegm?” Myra sputtered. “Oh. My. God.”

Brian tossed her a dirty shirt, which smel ed like ass, and she used it to wipe the slimy mess off her foot. It wouldn’t surprise her to see one of the guys wearing that very shirt the next day.

“This place is disgusting,” she said. “The five of you are going to clean this bus from top to bottom and it’s going to stay clean or I’m going to smother every last one of you in your sleep.” She kicked a beer can out of her path.

“Myr—” Sed began.

She lifted her hand to silence him. “We’re going to start with that disgusting refrigerator. Al that moldy takeout food has to go.

And then I’m going shopping for some real food. I am sick of fast food.”

At the mention of food, the guys’ expressions shifted from abject horror to mild interest.

“Real food?” Jace whispered, as if they were speaking a foreign language he’d never heard.

“Yeah, real food. Meat, vegetables, pasta, fruit,
liquid
milk. I don’t mind cooking for al of you, and the roadies too, but you guys wil clean this bus and keep it clean. I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Yes, mommy,” Eric said. “Wil you spank my tushie if I’m a bad boy?”

He stood, turned around, and presented his butt to her.

“I’l only spank your tushie,if you’re a
good
boy, Eric Sticks,” she said, “which I think is pretty much never.”

Eric’s lower lip protruded in an exaggerated pout.

She pul ed a black garbage bag out of a drawer and tossed it at Jace. He caught it, blinking hard as he always did when something surprised him.

“Everything goes,” she said.

“Except the beer,” Sed said.

“Put your beer on the other bus. Keep your party pigsty over there. Over here, we’l have a peaceful, clean home.”

“This is bul shit,” Sed said. He looked at Brian. “Dude…”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Brian said.

“Me, too,” said Trey. “Wil you spank me if I’m good, Myrna?”

She smiled at him. “You’re always good, Trey.”

Everyone laughed at her false statement, except Jace. Jace was already braving the refrigerator. Without a hazmat suit. He tossed things in the garbage bag without even looking at them. Sed rescued the beer, setting bottles and cans al along the stained and cluttered counter.

Myrna touched Sed’s arm. “I hope you don’t mind me bossing your boys around.”

He grinned crookedly, showing a dimple. She’d forgotten he had dimples. He didn’t smile that broadly often. “They do miss their mommies sometimes. I’d love a home cooked meal, to be honest.”

“Then you get to pick the first one. Assuming I can cook it.”

“Pork chops,” he said.

“And mashed potatoes!” Trey cal ed, helping Jace empty the refrigerator. He opened the freezer, cringed and closed it again.

“Asparagus?” Eric asked hopeful y.

“Yeah, asparagus sounds excel ent,” Sed agreed.

“That I can do. I’m going shopping. Who wants to come?”

Al five men lined up in front of her. She grinned, deciding they probably just wanted to get out of cleaning. “My car is a coupe, guys. I only have room for one. The rest of you stay here and clean out that refrigerator. Come on, Brian.”

“Why does Brian automatical y get to go?” Eric complained.

“I’m her boyfriend. Duh.”

“We can take my bike,” Jace offered. “I’l fol ow.”

“I’l ride with you,” Trey said to Jace.

“And Myrna can sit on my lap in the car.” Eric snagged her around the waist and tugged her against his side. “I won’t mind.”

“I’m not fuckin’ staying here by myself.” Sed slammed the refrigerator door.

The five of them stared at her like puppies at a pound desperate to be adopted.
Pick me. Pick me!

Like she could say no to any of them. “Fine. We’l find a way to fit, but when we get back, you’re cleaning. Al of you.” Her eyes drifted over her companions. They’d stand out more than usual in this podunk town. “Do you think you al need disguises? Otherwise we’l have to fight off fans.”

“We’re in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming,” Trey said.

“This town has like, twelve hundred people,” Eric said. “And I think most of them live in the old folks’ home.”

“What? You don’t think the elderly listen to metal?” Myrna asked.

“We’l take a chance,” Trey said.

Trey settled on the back of Jace’s motorcycle. The rest of the guys crammed themselves into Myrna’s little Thunderbird.

With Brian driving, Eric sitting in the middle, and Sed on the passenger side, Myrna was forced to sit partial y on Sed and Eric’s laps. She spent most of the short drive moving Eric’s hands from inappropriate locations. Sed thumped him upside the head on occasion. “Wil you leave her alone?”

“I hope we don’t get pul ed over,” Myrna said. “We look like a group of thugs on our way to rob a bank.”

Brian laughed. “Yeah. Except our getaway car is frickin’ pink and worth more than Sed’s dental work.”

Sed grinned like a shark to show off his perfect teeth.

They found a family-owned grocery store near the edge of town. Brian pul ed into the parking lot and Jace’s bike rumbled in after them.

Eric grabbed Myrna in a tight embrace on his lap, while Sed unfolded his 6 foot 4 frame from the little car. Brian climbed from the driver’s seat and offered a hand to Myrna to help her out of the car.

“We’re good, thanks,” Eric said, squeezing her closer. “See you when you get back.”

Myrna slid a hand up Eric’s neck into his black hair. He had the craziest haircut she’d ever seen. It was long on one side and down the back, yet shaved to stubble on the other side. A ridge of spikes along the top separated the stubble from the long strands.

The finger-thick lock that curled around his throat changed color on occasion. Today it was a deep blue. A week ago, it had been crimson red. His hair suited him, she supposed, but he should sue his hairstylist. As her fingers intertwined in the long strands at the nape of his neck, he glanced down at her, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah, you guys go on ahead,” she said, staring up into Eric’s pale blue eyes and running her tongue over her lips. “Eric and I are going to stay in the car and make out.”

His grip on her slackened as he lowered his head to-

“Psyche!” She shoved him away, before squirming out of his lap.

“Dude,” Eric complained. “That was so not cool.”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. He helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her back. “No one says ‘psyche’ anymore.”

“Wel , I’m old,” Myrna said. “I can’t help my lack of cool.”

As soon as they entered the store, a thin, nervous-looking man started fol owing them through the aisles. Myrna supposed rock stars looked like shoplifters. She smiled reassuringly at the little man and he turned to fiddle with the stock on the shelves.

Eric moved to stand next to the store clerk. He stroked his chin as he examined the condiments. “Brian’s woman thinks we need to eat better,” he said to the guy. “That attractive, normal-looking babe over there. See her?”

The manager glanced at Myrna. He nodded slightly and returned to his unnecessary shelf tidying.

“Anyway,” Eric continued. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to make us eat salad. Do you like salad?”

“I guess.”

Eric clapped him on the shoulder. The man flinched. “Great! I assume you’re a salad dressing expert, since you keep rearranging these bottles. So, what dressing would you recommend to a bunch of derelicts like us?” He grabbed the man’s nametag and leaned unnecessarily close to read it. “Kevin.”

“Eric,” Sed said. “Leave the guy alone.”

“Why? I assumed
Kevin
wanted to offer some customer service to his customers. That’s why you’re fol owing us around, right,
Kevin
?”

The man brushed Eric’s hand from his shoulder. “Raspberry Vinaigrette is good.”

“Do we look like the kind of guys who’d eat Raspberry Vinaigrette salad dressing?” Eric asked.

Kevin glanced from one band member to the next. “Uh…”

Myrna grabbed Eric by the ear. “The answer to that question is: Shut up, Eric.”

“Ow!” Eric protested.

“I like Raspberry Vinaigrette,” Trey said. He put a bottle of dressing in the cart. “Do they make anything cherry-flavored?”

Kevin shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Trey took his sucker out of his mouth and pointed it at him. “Wel , they should.”

“Cherry salad dressing? Disgusting,” Brian said, his nose wrinkled. “Ranch is best.”

Jace selected several bottles of creamy dressing and put them in the cart without a word.

Eric grabbed Myrna’s wrist to pul her pinching fingers from his ear. “My point is,
Kevin
,” he said, “we don’t need a babysitter.

Thanks.”

Sed was at the end of the aisle looking at spices. “Hey, Myrna, do you know how to make lemon-pepper chicken?”

“Sure do,” she cal ed to him. She pul ed her arm from Eric’s grip and went to help Sed pick out spices. The other guys fol owed her with Jace pushing the cart. Apparently, Jace had been grocery shopping before. Without any prompting, he added things to the cart that Myrna would have chosen herself.

“Get some jalapeños,” Eric said to Jace, who’d just added a jar of dil pickles to the cart. “I’l make us some omelets.”

“You’l make yourself an omelet,” Brian said. “Your cooking is worse than Trey’s.”

“Is it my fault you don’t like cherries?” Trey said.

“No one likes cherries in stir fry.”

“I do.”

Myrna rubbed Trey’s head, messing up his hair. “I’l bake you a cherry pie, sweetie. Would you like that?”

He hugged her against his side and kissed her temple. “I love you. Brian, I love your woman.”

Brian smiled slightly, but didn’t look at Myrna when he said, “Don’t we al ?”

They didn’t lose their tail as they wound through the aisles, but Kevin was a little less obvious about fol owing them. He watched them from one aisle over.

The store had an excel ent butcher who produced choice cuts of fresh meat. “We’l have to clean out the freezer when we get back,” Myrna said. “I can’t pass up this meat.”

“The freezer is highly toxic,” Trey said. “Can’t we just throw out the whole refrigerator and get a new one?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Jace agreed. He was tossing T-bones into the cart as if they were having a buy-one-get-ten-free steak sale.

“Sheesh, Jace, are you hungry?” Myrna asked.

“There are fourteen of us.”

“Good point. Get ground beef. I’l make chili.”

“Do you real y want to be trapped on a tour bus with a bunch of guys who’ve consumed large quantities of chili beans?” Brian asked.

Myrna laughed. “Another good point. Okay, I’l make lasagna instead. Tomorrow.”

“Now you’re talking.” Brian kissed her temple. “I love Italian food.”

“Make sure you get enough pork chops, Jace,” Sed insisted. “I’l eat like three or seven of them.”

They made a second trip through the store for things she’d need for lasagna. By the time they finished, two carts were ful to the top.

“I’m not sure al of this wil fit in my car,” Myrna said. For a smal car, the Thunderbird had a good-sized trunk, but their carts looked like they were stocking up to start their own mobile grocery store.

“We’l make it fit,” Brian said. “Or load Eric up like a pack mule.”

“Uh, no,” Eric said.

Jace started unloading the cart onto the conveyer belt. Myrna had a hard time accepting what the groupies said about him. A sadomasochist? He was always such a sweetheart. Quiet. Shy. Gentle. If she hadn’t seen what he kept in his suitcase with her own eyes, she’d never have believed it. He didn’t even attempt to look like a natural blond. Platinum hair, dark beard stubble, dark brows.

It was cute though. Myrna couldn’t put her finger on why. With that baby face of his, he looked like the requisite tough guy of a boy band, not a member of a metal band.

Jace must have felt her stare, because he glanced up, his brown eyes inquisitive. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She handed him a package of Italian sausage. He placed it on the conveyer belt.

“God, I want a cigarette,” Trey said, eyeing the locked case behind the counter. He fidgeted with the zipper on his sleeve repeatedly before cleaning out an entire display of cherry suckers and dumping them on the checkout stand.

Myrna squeezed his elbow in encouragement and moved around Jace to the cashier.

“Did you find everything you needed?” the young woman asked as she dragged products over the scanner.