Chapter Three
Kit
My eyes popped open just before I shoved my dick between those plush pink lips.
It was no surprise my cock was rock hard, and not in the morning wood way.
I’d been dreaming of River Ashe, a twenty-one-year-old kid with raggedy dark-brown hair and an amazing smile, whom I’d spent ten minutes with inside Nate’s bathroom, attempting to talk him off the edge of a panic attack.
Why the kid became stuck in my head, I couldn’t begin to imagine.
It had to be because his face was filled with fear as everyone at the table on Nate’s patio was coming up to him for information about the tour.
It reminded me too much of my first week of boot camp when I was a kid myself, and the world was big and scary.
I got out of bed and went to the ensuite bathroom, splashing water on my face. We were still at Nate’s, but we were returning to El Segundo in a few hours. I knew Pop was anxious to get home because his cell phone had been ringing off the hook with calls from his lady friends.
After a quick shower and a stroke session I wasn’t proud of, I dressed, packed, and went downstairs to find Chanice in the kitchen making breakfast. “Is that French toast?” The woman knew it was my favorite from when Mom and I would visit Nate when Dad was too busy to come with us.
“With a mixed-berry compote, just as you like it. How was the food last night? I researched companies in town and recommended the caterer to Nate, but I had no experience with them.” It was evident on Chanice’s face that she was worried.
“Oh, seriously, it was delicious. Everyone enjoyed it, and I doubt there were many leftovers.” Chanice got me a cup of coffee, and I sat at the kitchen island while she continued cooking.
“Good, good. Do you know if Nate is seeing that young singer, the one I’ve seen on the news?”
That was out of left field, and she sounded pissed. “What young singer?” I hadn’t heard anything about Nate pursuing a young woman, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Uh…Stella Rae? Have you heard about her?” I glanced up to see the hurt on Chanice’s face. I’d suspected she might have feelings for Nate, but it was never more apparent than when she turned away from me and grabbed a dish towel to dry her eyes.
“Chanice, do you have feelings for Nate? How long have you worked for him?”
She tossed the spatula onto the spoon rest on top of the stove and turned to me. “I’ve outlasted three wives, and still, he doesn’t give me a second glance. I’m about done with him, Kit. I’ve loved the man for twenty years, and I’m at the end of my patience.”
For the life of me, I had no idea what to say to her. I’d never fallen in love with anybody, and as far as I knew, nobody had ever fallen for me.
“What are you going to do, Chanice? If you leave Nate, I’ll pay you to cook for Pop because there are about eleven women in his neighborhood who keep bringing him food he doesn’t need to eat. He has his own harem and—”
“Oh, Kit, you can’t keep a man from his admirers. Your father seems to be very happy with the attention. I’d never disrupt that. Besides, if I leave Nate, I’m planning to go back east, where my family lives.”
Chanice flipped three pieces of French toast onto my plate and placed a small silver pitcher of berry syrup in front of me. “Eat, Kit.”
My head was spinning like a top, trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to help the woman, but it wasn’t really my problem. I had to figure out my own shit, and now I had a new worry: why was I fixated on a kid in a band?
It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? I was straight.
I fired up my Peterbilt and drove to Sound Waves Studios to pick up the trailer with all the band’s equipment.
The first stop was The Offbeat in LA, a small music venue that didn’t have enough stage space to use the backdrops, so unloading and reloading would go a lot faster, making it easier to get away and head for the next tour stop, which was next weekend.
Until then, I’d have almost a whole week to be a bum.
The House of Blues in San Diego was a venue where Samuel Dixon, the stage manager, had a lot of previous experience.
He knew exactly how to set up the stage, so it wouldn’t take long, and reloading the equipment would be quick and easy.
I didn’t have to do the heavy lifting—that was the road crew’s job.
With the backdrop loaded into the front of the trailer, I wouldn’t need to circle back to Los Angeles to pick it up, so I’d get to Ensenada—where they played two dates—the day after the House of Blues show, and I’d have several days to myself there.
That meant I’d be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation before the band flew in.
That was a nice perk. Anyway, I was being paid too much to bitch about any of it.
Nate emerged from the back door of the building as I was raising the landing gear on the trailer. “Kit, you got this?”
I laughed. “You gonna help me hook up? That doesn’t seem like something you’re used to doing.”
“Oh, if you wanna hook up, I know a plethora of beauties who would love to get with a guy like you. You sure you don’t have a special lady?” Nate wore a smirk I had to wonder about.
“Nope. I’m happily single, Nate. Don’t worry about me. How about you? Do you have anyone special? Are you looking for the fourth Mrs. Ashby?”
Nate glanced away, which gave me the impression there was someone special to him, but he wouldn’t say who. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Stella Rae. Nate would have bragged about that until he was blue in the face.
“It’s not that easy, Kit. Life hands us situations we can’t always understand, but we have to learn how to navigate them in the least damaging way. When you grow up, you’ll see what I mean.”
I laughed. “Nate, I’m thirty-five—or did you forget? You’re only seven years older than me. I’ve already lived a long life. I’m not looking for a happy-ever-after. I’m just living one day at a time.”
“Good on you, Kit. Good on you.” What that meant, I wasn’t sure.
“Are you okay, Nate?” Something about him seemed off.
He chuckled. “I’ll always be fine, nephew. Look out for those kids, will you? I know you didn’t sign up for that, but those boys are special, I promise you.”
I waved as I got into the cab and drove away, heading to the first venue on the tour. I had a sleeper cab, so I’d be able to get some rest while they were performing and then meet them in San Diego at the next stop. That was how things should go.
But something inside me wanted to see that blasted concert. What made me want to see River Ashe in action?
The Offbeat Bar was a small venue on York Boulevard in northeast Los Angeles.
The oddly shaped building was located in a strip mall with very little parking.
It hosted an eclectic mix of performances, such as DJs, live bands, comedians, and drag performances.
The venue held about a hundred people, I was guessing, and it seemed to be a popular place.
The concert was advertised as Mystery Band on the marquee, with the designation 21+ in small letters at the bottom.
I parked in the lot behind a MedSpa while I waited for the van to arrive with the roadies.
I walked into the business and asked if I could park there until the concert was over.
At first, the manager was skittish, even though the place was closing in ten minutes.
When I pulled out my wallet and Ben Franklin made an appearance, he was only too happy to accommodate me.
When the van carrying the roadies pulled into the lot, I got out and unlocked the back of the trailer for them. Allen Pace, the equipment manager, escorted everyone over, and two of them pulled down the ramp to unload the trailer.
I felt like an idiot just standing there watching, so I picked up two of the guitar cases and joined in. So much for not doing any heavy lifting.
We emptied the trailer, except for the backdrop, and when the bartender offered us water, I took one. Allen walked to the end of the bar and sat on a stool. “Thanks, man. You don’t have to help us, you know, but we were a man short, and we really appreciate it. Thanks again.”
“Sure. Glad to help. I was just standing there anyway. I was thinking about hanging around to see the show. Think that’s okay?”
“I can’t see why not. You wanna come backstage and watch?”
“Nah. I don’t want to get in the way.”
Robert Wilder came over to the bar, signaling that the band had arrived, and I felt a little flutter inside my gut, which was unusual. I hadn’t seen River Ashe since the dinner at Nate’s, and I was looking forward to this concert.
“Hey, Hansen. You ready for this chaos?” Wilder asked.
I chuckled. “Am I?”
Wilder laughed. “I say I’ll never do another tour with a young band at the end of every tour with a young band.
Then, we’re approached to do another one, and the money is good, so I end up saying yeah.
It will be hell by the middle of the tour, I promise you.
The bandmates were already arguing on the ride here from the studio, so this might be more contentious than others, but I blame it on their ages.
We might have to have a few bitch sessions after we put them to bed to get the anger out of our systems.
“I’m hoping they’ll be too busy with the tour and writing new music so they won’t have too much time to get into it.
Anyway, you’ll be sheltered from it more than us because we’ll be rotating traveling on the bus.
Are you staying at the same hotel or elsewhere during the tour?
Some of the tour stops are for more than one night, so you won’t be able to leave after every show,” Wilder explained.
I knew there would be multi-night tour stops, but I hadn’t looked beyond Ensenada at the schedule. I really needed to do a little research and plot the route on my GPS.
I was about to go outside to my truck to do just that when the door opened and River Ashe stepped right into my chest. I grabbed him to keep him on his feet. “Hello, River,” I said.
He glanced up to meet my gaze, his cheeks flushing as his hands ended up on my chest, the warm sensation burning through my T-shirt even after he moved them. “Hi, Kit.”
“You guys excited about the show?” It was a lame question, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
JD pushed River to the side so he and the rest of the band could get by us, so I stepped to the right with him. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple catching my gaze as it bobbed.
“I, uh, I usually throw up before we take the stage, but please don’t tell anyone. The guys won’t let me live it down if they know.” He cast his gaze at the floor as he began wringing his hands.
“I was in the Coast Guard, and one of my fellow Coasties used to get seasick when we were confronting an emergency situation. I can teach you some breathing techniques I learned to try to help him get through it. It’s a symptom of stress. Do you see a therapist or take anxiety meds?”
One of my friends, Jared Boatman—an ironic last name for him—used to puke his guts out when we were called to an emergency.
Regular patrols never bothered him, or if we came upon an emergency while on regular patrols, but if we were called out for a boating accident or any other maritime emergency, he’d start puking the minute he got into the response boat. The guy was fucking miserable.
I took him to the Naval Medical Center in Pearl Harbor to talk to a doctor, and he was recommended to an anxiety workshop. I attended with him so I could help if he needed it. I learned everything he did and went through the exercises with him when he needed me.
“No, I don’t. I, uh, I don’t know if what’s wrong with me is worth seeing a doctor. Usually, if I smoke a bowl, I’m fine.” His cheeks turned pink, which stirred something in my soul.
“And you’re able to play after getting high?” I’d smoked weed back in the day, and all I could do was fucking eat.
Now, I had to keep my system clean because I was subject to random drug testing to maintain my CDL. Plus, if I were to get stopped for speeding or being over my weight limit—it happened from time to time—I didn’t want a DUI charge on top of it.
River’s expression fell. “Not as well as I usually play, but it gets me on the stage, and once the fog clears, I’m okay.”
It wasn’t my business, but… “Okay, let’s try my way this evening, and if it doesn’t help, I’ll never bring it up again.”
What the fuck was up with me? I was no fucking doctor or guru. I practiced yoga to counteract the effects of driving a truck for hours at a time, and I worked out whenever I could. I still surfed when I was home, but I wasn’t a licensed professional. Why was I trying to help the kid?
“O-kay. Sure, I’ll give it a try. We’re doing a sound check in an hour, and then we’re going back to the hotel. We go on at nine. Do you want to meet me here, or should I come to you?” River asked.
“I’ll be here with the truck. Come find me when you’re ready, and we’ll find a quiet place to try the breathing exercises. I’m not saying it’ll be a magic pill, but it can’t hurt to try.”
River nodded. “Thanks, Kit. I’ll see you here.”
With that, he walked away, and when my eyes settled on his ass, I nearly swallowed my tongue. What the hell was going on with me? I truly needed to get laid.