Chapter 70
T he Dallas concert was amazing. The guys were tight on stage. Musically, they played off each other. The crowd was with them. Their support propelled the performance to the stratosphere. Just off stage, I got to watch the entire thing. My emotions were a kite on a string. Every one of Bo’s smiles, every wink, and each flourish seemed to be for me, making my spirit soar. The fans demanded and received three encores.
But that was then, and this is now. I let out a sigh, reluctant to refocus on the after-party. Here, my spirit has plummeted. Most of the partygoers are groupies. They’re not here to celebrate the music. In my opinion, they aren’t genuine fans. They just want to latch onto the guys, grab a piece of their fame, and they don’t care what they have to do to get it.
Stevie and Levi have one sexy groupie under each arm. Carson has one, too, and there are extras nearby, should he require a replacement. It shouldn’t be possible for my spirit to sink any lower, but it does when I glance at Bo and see that the pretty blue-eyed brunette I noticed earlier is standing beside him.
Foolish, Peace. So we shared a moment at the guitar shop and another one by the bridge. It felt like old times, but it wasn’t. I need to wise up. Further, I need to insist he not touch me. Every time he does, my heart skips down the street of impossibility like it did in Seattle, believing the one night we shared would lead to more.
“You okay?” Looking concerned, Stevie approaches me with two women wearing little more than lingerie attached to him.
“I’m fine,” I lie and rip my gaze away from Bo. My wounded heart lurching inside my chest, I think I understand now why my dad didn’t want my mom to accompany him on the road. “I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, so are we.” Levi joins us, bringing his groupie over. He hooks a thumb over his wide shoulder. “We’re going to the bus. Planning to have a little fun before we depart.” He rakes his brown eyes over me. You’re welcome to join us.”
My throat tight, I shake my head. Obviously, I’m not wired for meaningless sex. But I might as well leave with them. I’ve completed all my official Black Cat Records duties. I introduced the guys to the tour sponsors and local press. Best to cut my losses and learn from my mistakes. I vow to leave the after-party earlier at the next stop.
“Can I walk to the bus with you?” I ask the brothers. “I’d like to get settled for the night.”
“Sure, babe.” Levi circles his hand above his groupie’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“We got you,” Stevie says, his gaze warm.
At least someone does.
“Thanks,” I mumble. Following them to the exit, I don’t look back, even though there’s a spot between my shoulder blades that burns as if someone is watching me.
Outside, it’s warm and humid but not nearly as hot as it was when the sun was up. It’s blissfully quiet compared to the party. Crickets chirp as the brothers weave around concrete blockades. They’ve been drinking heavily since the show. The groupies are mostly drunk or high and so is just about everyone else. But not Bo or Carson. I know why Bo doesn’t drink anymore. I wonder why Carson doesn’t.
“And here is our lovely abode.” Levi releases his woman. Going to the front of the bus, he retrieves a key from behind the license plate. He opens the door with a flourish. “You first, Peace.”
“Thanks.” I appreciate the courtesy, but once I’m inside, the gym-like smell makes me nauseated. Trying not to breathe too deeply, I climb the stairs. The driver’s seat is empty and so is the front lounge area that is laid out as I expected. Two black leather couches on opposite sides of the aisle dominate the space. There’s a dining table with bench seating across from a small kitchenette, and the place is a complete mess. Red Solo cups litter the light wood floor. Wadded up clothes are strewn over nearly every available surface. Dirty dishes are stacked precariously high on the kitchen counter. Inside the sink, there’s a formation of beer cans. All the ashtrays are overflowing.
“Lovely, huh?” Levi asks, watching me closely.
“Um, no.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Well, it’s home, and your bag should be on the top bunk on the left side.” Stevie points with one hand and grabs the groupie’s ass with the other. “The sleeping compartment is just past the bathroom.”
“Do not poop on the bus.” Levi wags a finger in my face.
“Or the bus will have to be serviced, and the tank will have to be cleaned,” Stevie adds.
“Black Cat will deduct the cost from our advance.” Levi nods somberly. “Trust us. We learned that the hard way.”
“Got it.” I make eye contact with Levi, trying not to notice him sticking his hand down the groupie’s bra.
“And only drink bottled water, nothing from the sink,” Stevie cautions.
“Okay.” I’ll do my best to remember all that.
“We’re going to the back lounge.” Levi starts moving that way.
“You can still come with us.” Stevie waggles his brows at me, and the two women with him giggle like geese.
“No, thanks.” I shake my head.
“Your loss.” Stevie follows his brother, and the front lounge goes quiet. A light comes on at the back of the bus, then it goes off as the door closes.
Alone, I allow my shoulders to sag. “This place is disgusting.”
So I start cleaning up. It’s my home at least for a while. If I don’t want it to be gross, I can tell it’s going to be up to me to keep it clean.
I find an unopened box of trash bags under the sink. Sweeping all the trash up doesn’t take me long since I’m motivated to get it done fast so I can go to sleep. Exiting the bus, I throw the bags into a dumpster behind the venue.
When I return, I set the dirty, food-encrusted dishes in water to soak and head to the bathroom. As expected, it’s small. The shower stall is the size of an old phone booth and it’s disgusting. I find a container of Fabulosa spray under the counter and paper towels. Cleaning is required before I can even think about showering. My eyes are heavy when I’m done. Half-asleep, I get in the shower. I use my own T-shirt afterward to dry off because there are no clean towels anywhere.
Exiting the bathroom, my damp clothes stick to my body. I find the towels—all of them dirty—shoved into a basket on top of a stacked washer and dryer. I put them in the washer and start a load. Then I return to the kitchenette and hand wash the dishes. After I put them all away, I’m officially exhausted. I leave the lounge and try not to cry when I see my suitcase. It’s on the top bunk along with a pile of extra-large pleasure ribbed condom packets.
I drag my suitcase down, ignoring the packets that rain down around me. Unzipping my case, I withdraw my favorite sleep shirt, a vintage Jones and Jones tour T-shirt. It’s big enough that I get undressed beneath it. Climbing into my bunk, I fall into it face first. The sheets don’t smell bad. I’m so tired I don’t care about the condom packets. Sleep seizes me almost immediately.