Chapter 27
Xander
The mood before the concert was so weird. The whole crew was on edge. I saw more than one roadie acting jittery and unsure like this was their first concert. Which was strange considering we’d been on the road in the UK for weeks.
And if people weren’t jittery, they were MIA. I hadn’t seen Harper since soundcheck.
As I kicked off my Old Skool Vans, Chase, Jesse, and Ella strolled into our greenroom like we weren’t ten minutes from our kickoff toast.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Noah since soundcheck either.
“…wild. And they booted his ass?” Chase asked as he tugged his shirt off.
“Ick. Gross, Chase!” Ella whirled around and covered her eyes. “Could you at least go into a dressing room first?”
“What? It’s just my shirt.” Chase grinned as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband.
“Like I don’t know that your pants are next. You’re so freaking predictable, bro.” Ella huffed, her hand still covering her eyes despite turning her back on her brother.
“I love that Shay has got you saying freaking.” Chase laughed as he tugged his pants down in the middle of the room, just like Ella had said he would. “She’s a good influence on you.”
“Marrying Shay is the best thing you’ve ever done. That includes the band and any songs you’ve written,” Ella retorted. “Shay is too good for you.”
“Shit, you don’t have to tell me. I say as much to Shay all the time.” Chase snorted as he stood in his boxer-briefs with his hands on his hips, not an ounce of shame in him.
Ella rolled her eyes. “Do you seriously think it’s the best idea to tell your wife that she can do better than you? She might just believe it and start looking elsewhere.”
Chase laughed as he turned to paw through his rack of clothes. “Nah, I keep her too tired to ever think of anyone else. That woman is satisfied.”
“Eeww! Gross. No sister should ever have to hear about that.” Ella shuddered.
“Better than literally hearing it,” Jesse muttered as he crossed the room to his rack of clothes. “Or seeing it.” He shuddered like Ella had.
I laughed as I tied my Doc Martens. My kink was definitely not their kink.
Ella turned her head my way at my laugh and her expression softened. “How’s Harper doing?”
“Harper? She’s fine last I heard.” I frowned. “Why?”
“You don’t know?” Ella’s eyes rounded.
Even the guys stopped and looked at me.
A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Last I saw Harper she was standing with Tyler and getting asked out. Like she’d always wanted. Like her dream had finally come true. Like I’d all but pushed her to do. I might’ve spent the last two hours skateboarding around the area parking lot, trying not to think about the two of them dating, having to watch them hook up over the rest of the tour.
And definitely not thinking about how all that made me feel.
“What the fuck happened to Harper?” I asked as anxiety pooled in my stomach. Had I been wrong to leave her alone with Tyler? Did he do something to her?
“That new security guard, Diego, attacked her.” Ella blinked back at me. “She caught him doing drugs or something and he grabbed her—was going to do who knows what to her—but Noah showed up and kicked the fucker’s ass.”
“Shit!” I roared. “Why didn’t anyone call me? Where is she? Is she okay?”
“Probably over at the bathrooms overseeing all the piss tests.” Chase shrugged. “She looked fine when I saw her. But all Black Hat employees have to pass a drug test now. That’s why everyone is jumpy.”
“Well, that, and one of our own was literally attacked by one of our own.” Ella gripped her camera so hard her knuckles turned white. “I’ve never felt unsafe on tour with you guys, but now…”
Jesse crossed the room and took her into his arms. “That’s never going to happen to you, baby. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
“I will too, El.” Chase came over and tried to hug her too.
“Oh gross!” Ella shrieked. “Get dressed, Chase. Don’t touch me.”
I didn’t even give them another glance. I took off to find my girl.
“Where is she?” I hollered as I ran toward the closest restrooms where Marisol stood with a clipboard next to a folding table.
“Harper?” Marisol blinked owlishly through her thick glasses. “She’s in Meeting Room F with Walker going through—”
I didn’t hear the rest of whatever she said. I took off in the direction she’d pointed which was hopefully Meeting Room F. Counting down the rooms as I passed the signs. D. E. Breaking hard, I was pretty sure my boots left a skid mark in the hallway. I ripped open the door and found Harper sitting calmly behind a long table with a pile of paperwork in front of her and Walker sitting next her with his knee bobbing up and down. Stoic, calm Walker was agitated too.
Fuck.
I ran across the room and took Harper’s shoulders in my hands. She couldn’t hide the grimace she made at the movement. “Are you okay?” I ran my hands down her arms, pushing her sleeves out of the way. “What hurts? What did that bastard do to you?”
She wrenched out of my hands and frowned up at me. “Seriously? Now you give a shit? Or do you think I need a man to look after me?”
“What?” I flinched and took a step back like she’d hit me. “What the fuck are you talking about? I just found out about that asshole, Diego. He attacked you? Why didn’t you call me? I was here the whole time. I would’ve been there in a second.”
“I don’t know what this is about, but I’m busy right now. Walker and I have a lot to go over, so if you don’t mind…” She made a shooing motion like I was an annoying fly.
Like it was crazy that I was worried about her.
Like I hadn’t been inside her.
“What the fuck? Seriously? That’s how you’re going to treat me?”
“I’ll just…” Walker pushed away from the table and quietly left the room.
“I’m sorry, I thought we broke up. Or wait. Apparently we’re not a couple, right?” She cocked her head and glared at me. “That’s what you told Tyler, anyhow. And that I need a rich man to get under. Wasn’t that what you said at soundcheck? Or am I a cheating bitch? I can’t really keep up.”
“What’s that got to do with Diego attacking you? Are you serious right now? I was worried about you!”
“I’m fine.” Harper stared back at me with an angry glint in her eyes. “He didn’t attack me. He grabbed my arm and made some…not-so-subtle threats. But I’m fine. He’s gone, and I have a mountain of paperwork to get through to sort this shit out. So if you don’t mind, can you send Walker back in on your way out? We have more to discuss.”
“Harper, I don’t—”
“I mean it. I’m really busy right now. We can talk after the concert. Or tomorrow if you want.” She sighed and suddenly she looked so fucking exhausted. And like she literally had the weight of the world on her shoulders. For someone so small and so feminine to be in charge of everything here… I wanted to step in, comfort her somehow, but it was clear she was hanging on by a thread and wanted nothing to do with me at the moment.
Or at all, maybe.
Fuck.
So I did the only thing I could.
I nodded and headed for the door. “But I’m holding you to that. We’re talking. Tonight. As soon as the fucking concert is over tonight as a matter of fact.”
She sighed heavily and nodded. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeated, and then walked out.
I waited for the door to close behind me before I turned to Walker. “I want someone on her at all times. I don’t give a shit what’s going on with us. She’s important. She’s so damn fragile.” I had to pause as my breath hitched. “She’s priority, especially at all arenas going forward.”
“Already done. Wes flipped his lid. He’s on his way back. Should be in the air by now, actually.”
I closed my eyes as I absorbed the news that while I’d been skateboarding my blues away, Harper had been assaulted, and everyone else had been filled in. Wes was already on a plane.
I’d fallen that far down on Harper’s list of people she cared about.
“Only experienced staff will be on protection duty for the girls,” Walker went on. “We shouldn’t have any issues with newbies anyhow. Mandatory drug testing already weeded a few dipshits out.”
I nodded tightly. “Thanks, Walk. I appreciate it.”
He tipped his chin at me then opened the door and disappeared inside. The door closed with a soft click.
And all I could do was stare vacantly at the floor under my feet. I didn’t know what to do with all this fucking emotion coursing through my body. I wanted to beat on someone. Fuck up Diego beyond all recognition.
But I couldn’t. He was already on a plane back to the States.
So I did the only thing I could.
I stomped over to the kit room, grabbed the nearest guitar, and put my emotions into making as much noise as I could.
Fuck the toast.
Fuck the opening act.
Fuck everyone.
I needed to be alone.
* * *
Surprisingly, the guys gave me distance. They must’ve known I was on edge, given what’d happened. Or they just heard the wailing guitar from a few hallways away. Either way, I’d made considerable progress on a new song by the time Chase burst through the door of the meeting room I’d holed up in.
“I get you’re deep in your feels right now, but we’ve got a concert to do.” Chase hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “The people are hungry, and we’re on in five.”
I jumped off the table I’d been sitting on and strode to the door. “Let’s do it.”
“Really? Wow.” He slapped my back as I walked by. “I really thought that was going to be harder. Not mad that I lost the draw now.”
“What?”
Chase shrugged as he walked next to me toward the greenroom. “We drew straws over who had to come get you. Thought it’d involve a few punches or some physicality at least.”
“And Noah didn’t immediately volunteer? I’d think he’d have some pent up shit he’d be dying to get out.”
“Nah, it was just me and Jesse. We didn’t want Noah to have to get into another fight tonight. Plus he looks kinda rough—knuckles torn up and mopey as fuck. I didn’t realize how close he and Diego had been. Guess it hit him kinda hard. He didn’t even drink at the toast.”
Sounded like our London show was off to a stellar start. Huge fight at soundcheck, drug tests for all, and half the band didn’t show up for our traditional kickoff shot. Fuck.
I didn’t have time to look for Harper or even talk to anyone. Chase and I walked into the greenroom, where Marisol grabbed us and shoved us onstage.
The first half of the concert passed in a blur. I played all the songs by rote and tried to participate in the banter, but it was so fucking hard when all I wanted to do was work on Harper’s song. I couldn’t get the melody out of my head. Usually that was Chase’s job, but when I’d sat down with my guitar, the notes just came to me. And I wanted to build on it. It felt like the beginning of something epic, but I had to do this.
It might not have been my best show, but I’d shown up, so that had to count for something. Even Kelly’s bullshit just rolled off my back. I didn’t look at her the entire time she was onstage. I wasn’t angry. I was just apathetic.
And then it happened.
We were winding down to the end—before the encore—when Noah took his drum solo to a crazy place. He wailed on the skins way past the time his solo should’ve ended. His arms were a blur of motion as he crashed his drumsticks down over and over again.
We tried to keep up. I traded looks with Chase and Jesse, concern clear on their faces, as I was sure it was on mine. But we played along with Noah, providing a backtrack and trying to make it sound like it was on purpose.
And not like the painful wail that made the rest of us onstage ache.
Noah was in the zone. His arms flailed and crashed down on his drums again and again. His head bobbed to the rhythm, and we all tried to keep up.
After a few minutes, I stepped toward his kit at the back of the stage.
Keying off my mic, I yelled at him. “Noah! Come on, man. Wind it down!”
His arms kept going.
I traded another look at Chase, and he shrugged helplessly.
His instrument tech, Alice, stepped up behind him, dressed all in black. She touched his back, and it was like a jolt went through him.
He blinked back into the present and saw me in front of him.
I tipped my head at him. “My fingers are tired, man. Can you wind it down?!”
He nodded tightly, then worked in a large crescendo that we all followed before crashing his sticks down on the crash cymbal.
“Noah Hawker! Ladies and gentlemen.” Chase led a round of applause for our drummer then sent him a fond smile. “He’s stepped forward as a hero for us today. He, uh…” Chase caught the killing look I was throwing his way and trailed off before clearing his throat. “But uh, I don’t think I need to tell you all that. No one can play the skins like our man. Noah is a heroic drummer. Right?”
It didn’t make a lick of sense, but they cheered anyway.
We stumbled through the rest of the show without any major hiccups. The encore went just as easy.
After we were through, I looked for Noah backstage. I wanted to talk to him about what happened—both earlier with Harper and Diego and also with that angsty drum solo—but I couldn’t find him.
“Chase? Have you seen Noah?” I called across the greenroom after I’d done more than my share of gladhanding and bullshitting.
Chase turned from the very famous and old British actor he was talking to. “Yeah, he left like twenty minutes ago. We all tried to get him to have a few since he looked so wound up, but he said he had someplace to be.”
I nodded and let him get back to bullshitting with his idol.
I looked around the greenroom, but I couldn’t see Harper either. Maybe they had something else to do with the whole Diego situation?
Or more likely, she was avoiding me and Noah had left to get plastered.
Either way, I wasn’t going to get any answers here.
I headed out to the only place Harper couldn’t avoid me—our bedroom back at the rental.