Chapter 36
36
REMI
I’m getting the shot tonight.
Of Men and Wolves will walk to the stage and cross in front of my projector. The venue’s light gray curtains will work perfectly as a backdrop to cast a video of them performing. I have a lens to soften the edges, and I’ll use a lower frame rate so the shot looks more vintage, and I can add grain in post-production.
I’ve told myself all along this is a self-indulgent shot, one for me. But deep down, I’ve always imagined it as the opening of the documentary. Audio of the crowd chanting layered over top, then a soundbite from one of the band members. A line or two to set the tone straight out of the gate.
By the time I set up the projector, I feel a charge running under my skin. I adjust the angle and then go to arrange the curtain, wanting the backdrop smooth except for one fold near the stage. The heavy fabric takes both hands to slide, requiring me to tug it into place while backing up.
I stop before running into the stage and am still staring up when I’m caught by the waist. A combination of a squeak and a gasp rushes out of me as I’m pulled behind the curtain. Then someone’s kissing me. Someone so incredibly familiar, the lips and tongue and palm wrapping the front of my neck.
When my eyes flutter open, they meet Foster’s. But with the audio techs just above us in the wing and his name echoing through the arena, he’s Adams North right now too.
“What are you doing back here?” I drape my arms around his neck, fingers twisting in his hair.
“What I do before every show.”
The last time I found myself in the dark with him by the stage pops into my mind. And I finally unlock his pre-show ritual. “You’re listening to the crowd.”
“They ground me. Hearing them reminds me they want me out there as much as I fucking want to be.” His hold sinks lower. “What are you doing, director?”
“Setting up for a shot that haunts my dreams.”
Foster cocks a brow. “If it’s me bending you over and fucking you against the stage, then our dreams align.”
“Tempting.” I back away, which breaks his hold. “But staying a dream.”
“For now,” he says.
Following me out, he roughs up the back of his hair and then tracks the light beam to the curtain. “What’s the vision?”
“An old video of the band will be playing when you guys pass in front. Your shadows will cut through, light highlighting your profiles.” I admire the perfect fold on one side of the blank projection.
“You should stay recording after we take the stage and grab the audio of me greeting the crowd.”
My eyes bounce to him, surprised I hadn’t thought of that.
He smirks. “I’m kinda brilliant.” Then he nods to the projector. “You need me to pass a couple times so you can check the angles?”
“Isn’t this disrupting your ritual?” I ask.
His shoulder lifts and falls. “Worst that can happen is I ruin the entire show. And in that case, I’ll just blame you for depriving me of your delectable pussy.”
After dropping a kiss on top of my head, he walks away.
I only need him to cross in front of the beam half a dozen times before I figure out the best place to set the tripod. With the cart holding the projector angled, it should cast their silhouette and catch the video on their faces. If I film with the old video of them playing at 2x, I can slow the entire shot down in post-production, then the band will appear moody, slowly crossing.
“Here.” Foster hands me his phone with a video pulled up. “I don’t know what you planned on using, but this probably beats it.”
I watch him, Felix, and Dev play together, an ugly orange shag carpet in a nook behind Felix and his drum set. I look at Foster, recognizing the background. “The music store in Houston where you had your meet and greet?”
“Finding a cheap lefty bass is a pain in the ass, so we drove from Austin after Dev tracked one down. Back then the place was owned by a Deadhead and named Grateful Fret. The guy let us jam while Dev got a feel for the bass.”
When the band stops playing, the person filming lets out a “ haaaaah ” to emulate a roaring crowd. “Thank you, Houston,” Colton shouts. “We’re Nameless Because Our Guitarist Is A Broody Fuck. Good night!”
In the video, Foster glares at the camera. Beside me, he shakes his head before he taps the screen to pause it.
“The bickering is endless after that, but…” He steadies the phone with his hand behind mine so the other can zoom in on the wall over Video Foster’s shoulder. The blurry image in the frame is barely distinguishable as a wolf. “I stopped being broody, and we left as Of Men and Wolves.”
My smile is so big my cheeks ache when he steps behind me and takes his phone.
“This is vital lore, Foster West. Why am I only hearing about it now?”
“You hadn’t earned it yet.” His lips are at my ear. “This is the only freebie you get from me. Anything else you pay for by stripping out of one of these slutty little outfits you wear.”
Then he’s gone, striding across backstage. I’m still smiling when he texts me the video. I watch it again, my sole focus on the guitarist. Tortured eyes and hard-set jaw. A hint of a melody emerges while he plays, barely there but enough I recognize what it will evolve into eventually. The song that put them on the map.
“Echo.”
* * *
After both of the next two shows, I become prey as soon as the final song ends.
Like tonight. Adams North closes out the show with his guitar hanging. He has a hand on the microphone stand. His voice is worn and oh-so sexy.
And his heated gaze is locked on me offstage through it all.
People scream while he, Felix, and Dev walk off, and Foster hands off his guitar to one of the roadies before descending the stairs. Same as last time, he stalks toward me, grabs me by the nape, and then his lips crush to mine. His kiss is hot and claiming and everything.
I gasp when his hands drop to the backs of my thighs and he hikes me up. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck.
Once he has me breathless, he tugs at my lower lip. “Are you mine?”
I’m so his it hurts. But he means for the night, to which I slowly nod, and then he nods with me and carries me to the dressing room.
The door’s open, no Felix or Dev. Foster takes my bag, tossing it on the floor, and lowers me onto the couch. He comes down on top of me, his mouth back on mine, my hands in his hair.
“Sinner, I need him,” Christian says.
I turn my head, and he winks at me from inside the doorway.
Foster groans and drops his forehead onto my shoulder. “Fuck off.”
The band’s manager tugs down his sleeves, switching back to business mode. “Would if I could. You know how much I hate to be a cockblock, but I need all of you and your attention. So, be a good boy and heel.”
He walks out.
Foster’s lips find my neck before he climbs off me with a sigh. “You good to hang out for a bit? I don’t want you leaving without Colt, and I have no clue where he is right now.”
I nod, sitting up as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen.
“Shit.” He seems to mull something over and then glances up. A little smirk forms as he tosses his phone at me. “I’m expecting a call from a guy about a thing. I don’t know how long this will take, so if he calls, let him know I’ll call him back as soon as I’m done.”
“A guy about a thing?”
“Yep,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. He pulls back enough to see me. “The passcode’s how many times I think about you a day—184369.”
“Uhhu, sure,” I say as he heads for the door. The battery’s nearly dead when I glance down. “On top of being your secretary, I’ll charge it for you too.”
He spins to walk backward and clutches his chest over his heart. “The sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
I laugh as he pulls the door shut. Once he’s gone, I sink into the couch, fucking dizzy from him.
Felix left the charger he used earlier, so I plug in Foster’s phone before moving my bag to the wall beside it. After I review the list of shots I wanted for tonight, I start to text Xander to see if they’re still meeting. They might as well swing by here so he doesn’t need to relay everything.
Despite the rough start, having him around has taken some pressure off. We have an extra set of eyes for potential shots and hands for the planned ones. Not to mention he knows how I work and easily slips into the assistant role or a leader one when I need it. He’s also been respectful of me and Foster, back to being my friend—where he started, and I need him to end.
Before I hit send, Foster’s phone lights up. I stretch for it, realizing I have no idea if the guy about a thing is saved in his contacts. If he is, I doubt it’s as A Guy About a Thing .
Sitting back, my brow dips at the name. It takes me a second to realize the numbers separated by a dash is yesterday’s date. Apparently vagueness is Foster’s favorite language.
Not sure what else to do, I swipe to answer.
I haven’t even brought the phone to my ear when I hear a shocked, “Holy shit.”
Then, “You never answer. I mean, I knew you were still part of the club since you’ve texted me anytime you get a new number, which is a lot, by the way, but seriously?”
The voice and cadence and rambling rips through me until a shocked numbness takes over. Or maybe a disbelieving one. Either way, I can’t move. Can’t speak.
But she barely takes a breath. She never did. “I call you every year on Remi Day, and the one time I worked a double and call a day late, you pick up?”
I swallow, my heart thrashing in my chest at my name even through the numbness. When it becomes undeniable who called Foster’s phone. Who knows Foster to even call him.
“Hellooo?” Sage says. “You?—”
The door swings open, and I end the call. I look up as Colton slows down, scanning me over. I’m breathing hard even though it feels like I’m not at all. Dizzy for a completely different reason than when Foster left.
“You good, lioness?” Colton asks, two lines between his brows.
After a few blinks, my eyes fall to the phone screen again. I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat are too dry.
“Remi.”
My attention jerks up, his expression even more concerned.
Then the sensations flood back in. The reality of what just happened crystallizes in my head. Whether it was shock or disbelief freezing me before, it morphs into something else now. Anger. Or maybe hurt? No, this time it’s very much both.
I grab my bag, pushing to my feet, and rush by Colton, not sure I could answer him if I tried.
“Hey,” he calls after me, but I’m already charging down the hall. “Hold the fuck on, Remi.” He catches my arm, but I wrench away.
“Let me go, Colt.”
He darts in front of me, blocking my path. “Not until you explain what the fuck is wrong.”
I look up at him, searching for words, for an explanation without exposing every bloody wound. “The world is full of liars and the oblivious,” I tell him.
“Okay, cool.” Then he shrugs and asks, “What the hell does that have to do with why you’re upset?”
One side of my mouth lifts, the smile broken. “I always thought I was a liar.” I force a breath through the threat of tears—I don’t even know the reason behind them. But that’s the problem.
I hand over Foster’s phone. “Tell Foster we’re doing his solo interview. Tonight. Center stage.”