Chapter Two
River
“Why are we going to Mr. Ashby’s house? Isn’t he still pissed at us? I mean, we paid the hotel for the damage and shit, but we didn’t call him to apologize,” I said to Marshall Kensington.
I’d just returned from West Peoria, where I’d looked after Petey Ritter, the high school student Skyler and Sandy had taken in and had been appointed as guardians.
The kid was nice, and he was easy to be around.
His girlfriend, however, was annoying as fuck.
She came over one afternoon, and Petey introduced us, and the moment he said I was in a band, she followed me around the whole afternoon while I was trying to find a quiet place to work on a song.
Thank god, she didn’t come over after that. He went to her house instead.
It was a common case of groupie fever, as Clancey, the band’s bus driver, labeled the throngs of screaming girls and boys chasing us down outside hotels and venues during our winter mini tour. It was absolutely insane.
“He is pissed at you, but he wants you guys to meet the whole team because this is a much longer, larger tour, and you need to know who’s who.
The band has acquired quite a following, so we need to be prepared for anything.
When someone tries to hustle you out of a crowd, I want you to know it’s someone on your team, and not some crazy bastard trying to kidnap you.
” Marsh didn’t crack a smile, which was a little concerning.
JD stopped his discussion with Arlo and turned toward us. “Is that really a thing? Do we have stalkers?” His smile grew like it was a good thing, the stupid asshole.
“Oh, yeah! Bring ’em on,” Hardy added, he and Goldie bumping fists. Arlo stared out the window of the limo without adding anything. Something was going on with my half-brother, aside from our dumbass father’s push and pull regarding Arlo and his mother being accepted into the family.
That whole hidden-baby charade was a disaster of epic proportions, and I’d heard some of the fights Mom, Hope, and Regal had over Cindy, Arlo’s mom. It was a time bomb waiting to explode at the least opportune moment, no doubt.
“You laugh and think it’s a good time, but if you’re caught in the middle of a circle of frenzied groupies wanting a piece of your hair or clothes or wanting you to sign something, you’ll wish to hell you had someone watching out for you.
” Marsh pulled his phone from the front breast pocket of his jacket and began scrolling, paying no mind to the rest of us.
Five minutes later, the limo made a right and stopped at a gate. The driver spoke to a guard, and when the gate opened, the car pulled through. I’d seen a lot of those gates leading to fancy mansions on television, but it was the first time seeing one in person.
“Daaammmn!” Everyone rushed to the windows at Goldie’s outburst. All the visual did was make me nervous.
The limo stopped at the stairs leading from the driveway to the front door, and we all bailed. I saw several other vehicles parked to the right of the circle drive, so obviously, there would be more than just Accidental Fire and Nate Ashby at this party.
We climbed the steps and Marsh rang the bell. The door opened, and a pretty lady smiled. “Mr. Kensington, welcome. Please come in. Nate’s on the pool deck with other guests.”
“Chanice, good to see you again. Guys, go straight through and out the sliding doors at the back of the kitchen.” We followed Marsh’s directions, all of us taking in the sight of the beautiful home.
There were shiny marble floors and a massive staircase with deep mahogany stairs and railings leading to a second floor. The art on the walls appeared to be fancy, though I didn’t recognize any of it.
There was an expensive-looking round table in the center of the entry, adorned with a huge bouquet of white flowers. I laughed when JD walked over to it and touched one of the blooms, plucking off a white blossom and tucking it behind his right ear.
I reached up and slapped it away, the stupid idiot. We were going into a business meeting, not partying with our friends at the beach. We needed to at least give the illusion of being mature.
“Come in. Come in,” Mr. Ashby greeted us in the kitchen, sporting a big grin.
I glanced around to see a lot of other guys and a few women seated around tables on the pool deck.
Everyone was wearing casual, neat clothes.
We looked like bums dragged in off the street.
I didn’t remember if I’d even combed my hair that day.
I’d pretty much been in a drunken stupor since my birthday.
I reached into the pocket of my jeans and grabbed an elastic hair band, reaching up and pulling my hair back to secure it behind my head. I followed everyone out the huge sliding doors that led from the kitchen to the pool. It was cooler than anything I could imagine.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Accidental Fire.” Mr. Ashby stepped to the side as the five of us stopped in the doorway. People began clapping like we were a big deal, and I felt the heat rise on my cheeks.
When we played at Rocktoberfest in 2024, we saw a lot of bands that weekend, and it occurred to me that Skyler had led us through that whole overwhelming experience with a calm energy that I appreciated.
We’d naturally looked to him to show us what to do and how to act and then fallen in line without argument.
Now, he was returning from New Zealand and getting ready to have the summer off with his new husband.
He wouldn’t be with us to keep us from looking like talentless hacks.
That thought sent a shiver down my spine.
“Guys, introduce yourselves to your tour support team.”
The other four looked at me, the stupid dicks, so I went down the row, starting with JD, who stood next to me.
“This is JD Horn, our bass player and backup vocals. This is Arlo Timmons, our keyboard player and backup vocals. Next is Goldie Robbins, our lead singer, and then Hardy Boyer, our drummer. I’m River Ashe, lead guitar and backup vocals. ”
Marsh started clapping and turned to everyone in the room to lead them in a round of applause. Nobody seemed to know who we were, and some of the people didn’t seem impressed, which was no surprise to me.
“Okay. Let’s start with the teams. Security team, you’re up.” Mr. Ashby pointed to a group of three large men and a petite woman with dark dreadlocks and a bright smile.
One of the men stepped forward. “We’re from Guardian Security Specialists. We’re based in Los Angeles, licensed in the US, and affiliated with a European-based security company, Golden Elite Associates-Italy, should an international tour be in your future.
“We specialize in personal protection and crowd control for individuals in the entertainment industry. I’m Robert Wilder, the lead protection specialist on your detail, codename Rowdy.”
He pointed to the young woman next. “This is Specialist Danae Flowers, codename Orchid. Next is Specialist Calvin Bartholomew, codename Cavalry, and last is Specialist Dagr Blix, codename Yeti.” That guy was as large as a bus.
We joined the applause, which was apparently a thing we needed to do with every introduction. Mr. Ashby turned to another table. “Next.”
A tall, slender man with a pointy nose and a pretentious attitude stood. “I’m Barker Dussault, your tour promoter. I don’t travel.”
Mr. Ashby laughed. “Barker works for me, but I wanted him to meet the band.”
He then pointed to another man at the table, whom I easily recognized. “You guys know me. Clancy Morse. I’ll be driving your tour bus again. I’m not your friend or your father, so leave me alone. That’s what these other folks are for.”
Clancy patted a gorgeous man on the back, who laughed before he stood.
“I’m Kit Hansen. I’ll be responsible for moving your instruments, equipment, and stage backdrops.
I leave immediately after the show, so if you want your shit on the truck, get it to one of these guys as soon as you step off the stage.
” He pointed to the four guys sitting at the table with him and Clancy. “Otherwise, take it with you.”
Kit sat down, but I couldn’t peel my eyes from him. The man was stunning.
The rest of the tour staff introduced themselves, though I didn’t hear a word of what they said.
I had no idea who they were, and at that moment, I didn’t give a damn.
All I could do was stare at Kit Hansen and imagine his handsome face between my ass cheeks as he ate me out like his favorite dessert.
My dick started to grow, and my torn T-shirt wasn’t going to cover it, so I glanced at the view and thought about playing with Hope’s two dogs, Bess and Midnight, until I calmed down.
Food was brought out to create a buffet, and we all filled our plates. There was a self-service bar with beer and wine, and after I filled my plate, I sat at an empty table, expecting my bandmates to join me. Marsh had other ideas.
“Guys, spread yourselves around and get to know your crew. River, come and sit over here with us. These are the leads. If there are any problems, you talk to these guys. River is the spokesman for the band.” How Marsh determined I was the spokesman was a mystery.
The glorious Kit, Clancy, Allen, Sam, and a woman named Lauren joined us at the table. Marsh and Mr. Ashby sat, and everyone began talking at once.
“I meant what I said about not being your friend or your father. That shit that happened last year with Perry Whatshisname? Never again.” That was Clancy.
He was speaking about Petey Ritter’s brother, who was currently in jail for trying to poison Sky. The idiot thought that if Sky had enough bad experiences on tour, he’d go back to West Peoria and take care of Petey after the death of their grandmother.
“No, sir,” I responded, my stomach churning at all the scrutiny.
“I’m Lauren Mittler, your stylist. I’d like to have an afternoon with the five of you to go over style choices so I can plan your tour wardrobes. I’ll get with Marshall and set a day for you to come to my studio. I love your music, by the way.”
Barker Dussault walked up behind her. “I’d like to have a photographer there to get some candids to use in the promotions, so will you call me?” he asked. Lauren tilted her head up and smiled at him, nodding.
The equipment manager, Allen Pace, touched my shoulder.
“Can we talk about your guitar preferences? I think I can get you a few loaners from Fender, Gibson, and Schecter. I know some guys who work for them, but we need to discuss the types of pedals you want. Oh, and mic preferences. I’ll talk to Goldie about his preferences, but the rest of you have options, so have Marsh schedule something.
I need to talk to Hardy about his favorite setup for a drum kit. ”
Another guy sat down after Allen moved on, which was when I noticed the rest of the band being cornered by the tour leads. I found it hard to breathe at that point.
“I’m Samuel, and I’d like to have a sit-down with you and the band so we can discuss the stage setup. Nate and Marshall have expressed their wishes, but I’d still like to hear from you guys. Have Marsh call me, and we can meet for lunch this week.”
I hadn’t touched my plate or the beer in front of me. It was all so fucking overwhelming that I fought to get any air into my lungs.
“Hey, uh, River, can you show me where the bathroom is in this place?” I glanced up to see it was Kit Hansen. He quickly stood from his chair and hurried around the table to pull mine out and lift me to stand.
He hurried through the kitchen, leading me to a hallway where he opened a door and took me inside. “Sit on the commode and put your head between your knees.”
His voice was strong and commanding, which was exactly what I needed at that moment. I sat on the toilet lid and bent over, but I couldn’t catch my breath.
Kit knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Meet my breaths.” He lifted my right hand, putting it on his chest and holding it there. “In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four.”
We repeated the exercise a few times until I was able to breathe normally. Tears were sliding down my cheeks, but when he lifted my chin, he had a kind smile.
“You’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s all overwhelming, but I think you’ll do fine. You play those crazy licks on ‘Chasing You,’ right? Genius.”
I was shocked to hear him describe my playing as genius. Maybe he was trying to pacify me so I would calm down, but even if he was just saying it to help me get myself together, I’d take the compliment.
“I, uh, I wrote the song with my brother, Arlo. He was into this girl who didn’t pay him any attention until he got into the band.
He chased her all over town, and she ignored him.
Then, when word got out that we’d played at Rocktoberfest last year, she started chasing him.
It didn’t work out with them, and he’s been brooding about it.
I hoped that if he got it out of his system, he’d be able to get over her.
But sometimes, things don’t work that way, so we wrote the song, included it on the EP, and plan to put it on the album that’s coming out in September. You’ve heard it?”
Kit chuckled as he stood and took my hand, leading me to the sink.
“I bought the EP from a streaming service and want to get the vinyl when it comes out. My mom and pop got me started collecting vinyl. I can remember sitting on the back porch on warm nights while my parents danced to their favorite records. Those are good memories. Now, I have a huge vinyl collection myself. Kinda weird, right?”
I chuckled. “If we go vinyl when we finish the album, I’ll gift you a copy with all the band’s signatures. Thank you for saving me from embarrassing the shit out of myself. How’d you get sucked into this circus?” Turning on the cold water, I splashed my face to get my head together.
Kit handed me a towel. “Nate hired me to haul your equipment during the tour, and since I have nothing else going on, I agreed.”
I sucked in a breath. “Oh. Well, thanks, I guess?”
“Sure. You okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m just going to use the bathroom. Thanks for keeping me from throwing up in front of everyone. I appreciate it.”
Kit nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him. I stood at the sink, staring in the mirror at my hair, which was out of control. I needed to do something about that before we went on tour, but the bigger question was…
How can I spend more time with Kit Hansen?