The Song Remains the Same (11 page)

“I’m only doing the expenses accrued on the road. If I do a good job, then maybe I’ll take over everything else. This is just a trial period.”

“Ready for the grand tour?” X came up and slipped his arm around Alys’s waist. “We can break in our bunk. They’re super private with sliding panels that lock and everything.”

“Are they soundproofed?” I drawled.

X shrugged. “Meh, that’s what headphones are for.”

“Ugh,” I grumped under my breath.

“I’m not sure there are headphones powerful enough to drown out Phil’s sex screams,” Alys hissed in my general direction as X tugged her toward the bus door.

Fair enough.

I felt a warm big hand on my ass and looked over my shoulder to see Phil smiling at me.

“Come on. Let me show you our new home.”

Taking my hand, Phil led me on and straight to the back of the bus, passing the dining and living area, the sweetest travel kitchen imaginable, and the foxholes—aka bunks. From the cabinets to the furniture to the pine flooring, everything was light with neutral colors.

Reaching above our heads, Phil tugged on a cord with a brass ring secured at the end and pulled down a sliding set of retractable stairs.

“After you, woman.” He grinned.

Climbing up, my head popped into the sleeping space at the foot of the bed. On either side of the queen-sized bed, mounted to the wall, were lamps and small compartments to stow our stuff. Sitting on the bed, I watched as he tossed our carry-on bags into a corner. Our bigger duffel bags had gone in the storage area underneath the bus, for the time being.

“Wow. Are you sure the guys don’t mind not having this sort of space for themselves?”

“If they do, they haven’t said anythin’ to me,” he replied.

Leaning over me, Phil crawled up on the bed, pushing me back, until I was beneath him, our chests pressing together. His smile made me lose any and every thought while his dimples did funny things to my libido. One would think that, after ten months of being together, that sort of thrill would have dissipated, but no…all he had to do was smile, and my world would light up like New Year’s Eve.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rolling over me like warm fudge.

“Hey.” I smiled back.

“I’m fuckin’ stoked that you’re here with me.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m road-trippin’ with my best friend across the country, and to top it all off, she’s my number one groupie—”

I pinched the sensitive skin above his hip.

“Ow!”

“
Groupie
?” I mock-raged at him.

“Can’t you be my groupie on the road? Who else am I gonna be bangin’?”

“I don’t know. Your
fiancée
?”

“Where’s the fun in that—ow!”

“Ass.”

“Mmm…” His hand slid up my denim-clad thigh to cup a cheek. “I do love your ass. Can’t my fiancée be my groupie, too?”

His mouth claimed mine in a scorching kiss that made my knees draw up and my hips arch into his groin. Already chubbing, he growled at me to let me know how much he liked that. His hand slid up under my shirt to cop a feel on a braless boob.

“Dude, you think you could wait until we take off before dry-humpin’ my sister?”

We turned our heads to see Connor’s head popping up through the trapdoor.

“Obviously not,” said Phil. “What do you want?”

“Jason said for everyone to meet in the living room.”

“The fuck for?” grumped Phil.

“I don’t know! Band meeting or some such shit.”

Phil scowled at my brother. “Yeah, gimme a minute.”

“He said—”

“A fuckin’ minute, asshole!”

Connor’s head disappeared, and Phil huffed with irritation.

“Aren’t you going to go?” I asked, trying to prop myself up on my elbows.

He twitched his cock against me.

“Oh. Yeah, you might need more than a minute.” I snorted. “And you might want to get off of me.”

“I don’t wanna get off of you. I wanna get off
in
you.”

“Dude!” my brother shouted from below. “Gross!”

“Fuck you!” Phil shouted back at him. “Yeah, this is going to be a real treat.” He rolled off me and onto his back next to me. “I’m startin’ to think that maybe we should’ve found someone who doesn’t share your DNA for the last band member.”

“Liar.” I laughed. “You love him.”

Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his face and adjusted his crotch. “Maybe. But I love your pussy more.”

“Send Alys up?”

He grunted and headed down the ladder, grinning. Glancing up at me, his eyes sparkled with happiness. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Kicking off the tour in Bethel Woods, Alys, Lili, and I were in seventh heaven. This was where the original 1969 Woodstock concert had been held. We wanted nothing more than to traipse our asses around the whole park, and Lili was gnashing her teeth to go out and use her state-of-the-art camera.

Our bus pulled into an assigned lot. As NOLA’s Junk was headlining the event, we had the closest spot to the stage, but it wasn’t all that close. They also had the biggest crew and the most equipment.

Excitement was bubbling over in the three of us, and we practically ran off the bus to get out into the fresh air and early morning sunshine.

“Here, you have to take these with you,” Sheri said, hopping out behind us and handing us our passes. “It’s the only way security will let you guys back here. Don’t lose them. Make sure your phones are on you, so in case you do, you can call one of us to come out and find you.”

“All right,” I said, pulling the pass over my head. “Where’s the security detail?”

“Past the trees. They patrol around in civilian clothes, too, so try to keep the pot-smoking to the confines of the lot. If they bust you anywhere else, you might be arrested.”

“Damn!” grunted Lili.

Tim came scurrying up to us, looking excessively stressed for so early in the morning. He exchanged a look with Sheri.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Slaying Stacy had to cancel. Mike has laryngitis.”

Mike Stacy and his band, Slaying Stacy, was one of the bands that had played at the House of Horrors show in LA last year.

“So?”

“So, they’re not opening for us now.”

“Who’s taking their place?”

Tim looked pained and mildly panicked. “Cornered Cannibal.”

Sheri sagged under the weight of that news. “When did that happen?”

“Two days ago. Apparently, Mike can’t make a noise at all. Cornered Cannibal was free. They’ll be arriving sometime tonight.”

The concert was tomorrow. Tonight, we were all going to stay in a hotel to have some privacy and decent showers. The roadies and technicians were going to stay with the buses.

“Where are they flying in from?” asked Sheri.

“LA. I don’t think they’re in the same hotel,” replied Tim.

“What’s going on?” asked Jason as he stepped off the bus.

Tim and Sheri exchanged another look.

Then, Tim turned to Jason. “Band meeting. Now.”

Jason’s golden brows rose up. “Yeah, all right.”

Alys, Lili, and I exchanged looks as well. One thing was clear. We were getting the hell out of here.

“Keep your phones on you,” Sheri whispered, knowing we were ready to run. “If you don’t hear from me, be back by two o’clock, okay? That’s when we’re scheduled to be picked up.”

“Okay,” Alys replied.

We hauled ass through the lot and into some trees, deciding that camouflage might work in our favor.

We all knew what it meant when NOLA’s Junk and Cornered Cannibal were in the same zip code. Once, the two bands had been great friends and amicably toured together. Then, Phil and Devon GianFranco had picked up a hot redhead one night in Germany, and it had all fallen apart. Alys and Lili knew about it because I had told them. Of course, they were never to utter that conversation to another soul under threat of a painful death.

“So…this should be interesting,” drawled Lili as we hurried farther away.

I wanted to be out of earshot when Phil blew his lid. I had the feeling that they did, too.

Alys giggled. “Poor Tim.”

“For real! That guy is gonna die from a heart attack before he’s thirty-five!” I said.

“Well, it’s not like you see him quitting,” said Lili.

From inside my jeans pocket, my phone started to ring and buzz.

“Twenty bucks it’s—” Lili started to say.

“Hey, babe,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Can you come back? Now. Please?”

“Phil!” I whined. “We’re already on the track, heading for the security—”

“Now!” he barked before hanging up.

“Are we going back?” asked Alys.

“No.” I replied. I pushed on his number to call him back.

“Yeah?” he snapped.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. I’m sorry you’re pissed by this news, but that doesn’t mean I deserve to be your verbal whipping post.”

He sighed. “You’re right, Baby Girl. I’m sorry.”

“And to save us all the trouble of having to go back there since we’re nearly to the checkpoint, I promise not to go near anyone involved with Cornered Cannibal—not the band, not their crew, and certainly not their groupies. Okay?”

I could practically hear the steam coming out of his ears, but he took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“All right. We’re just checking shit out, and Lili’s gonna take some photos. Then, we’ll head back.”

“All right.”

“All right.”

“Baby Girl?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really upset about this.”

“I get that, but there’s nothing we can do about it, and at this very moment, it doesn’t warrant me coming back to the bus I just escaped from.”

“Not even so I can get a hug?”

“Quit it! I’ll give you one when I get back!” I snapped.

“Don’t be gone too long, okay?”

“All right.”

We showed our passes and stated our names at the security gate. Through the gate led us to the backstage area, which we went around, following the concrete path.

“Do you think they’ll put us on lockdown or something?” Alys asked.

“Who? The guys?”

“Yeah.”

“If they try that shit, we can just go home. There’s no point in traveling for ten weeks if we’re going to spend the whole time locked up in the fucking bus.”

It was true. As the accountant for NOLA’s Junk, Alys kept tabs on their daily spending and crunched figures nightly, and I might be their licensed nutritionist and therapist, but during the shows, we were to go out and scout for bands on the lesser stages, which were currently being set up for the festival the next day. Lili was to accompany us, so she could take photos of the talent on her digital camera and then upload them into her shiny new laptop, courtesy of NOLA Records.

But…this was
it
really. This would be my first attempt at writing reviews on bands. It wasn’t for
Rolling Stone
or anything, and the only people who’d be reading them were the guys, but it was a start. Phil had faith in my writing and my musical taste, and I wasn’t going to let Cornered Cannibal take that away from me.

“So, if they’re opening for NOLA’s Junk, does that mean they’ll be parking next to us at venues and shit?” asked Lili.

“How the hell would I know?”

This whole situation was starting to suck, big time. Phil was going to freak out and go all Neanderthal. I could feel it.

“I think if we just keep our heads down and mouths shut, we should have no problems,” Alys said quietly. “X hates those guys. He told me Jürgen treats women like garbage, and he has an iron fist on the other guys in the band, like he
owns
them or something.”

I’d read articles about the wild shit Cornered Cannibal had gotten up to. Orgy-type drunken shindigs were the norm for them, and they had a very specific group of women with whom they traveled. Drugs and alcohol heavily lubricated them as well. No female journalist would interview them anymore. The last one had been sexually harassed to the point that she feared for her safety, and she’d brought it to court against the notorious lead singer and the bass player, Peder. I had read that Devon hadn’t been much of an active participant in that kind of behavior for a long time. It was rumored that there was a lot of tension between him and Jürgen these days.

Alys was right. Keeping our heads down and mouths shut was the way to go.

Fresh air, decent exercise, sunshine—it was good for us to get away from everyone else and just be the three of us. We took a couple of hours to get the lay of the land, and Lili got some shots of the park.

Upon our return, Connor, Flipper, and Phil were sitting outside in folding chairs. Motherfucker was shirtless and bootless, soaking up the sun and turning a toasted caramel color. Fuck, he was hot. I’d never get used to the raw, sensual beauty that was Phil fucking Deveraux.

“Hey, Kenna Baby.” His deep voice rumbled through me.

Combined with his smile, my knees went a little weak.

“Hey,” I replied, all but skipping over to him.

Pulling me onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck, his stubble tickling me.

“What do you wanna do today?”

I shrugged, relaxing into him. The man was living, breathing furniture.