15. Hendrix
Chapter 15
Hendrix
T orture. That’s what this fucking was. Panic and euphoria roared through me like a train, and it took everything I had to finish out the show. I wasn’t 100% certain what was going on, but Arlo had disappeared, and not too long after, pleasure had flooded the bond. At least I knew what that was now. It was a far cry from all of the suffering it had been delivering the last few months. I was covered in goose bumps, and my cock was trying its best to break out of my leather pants.
Gary blocked all of us when we bolted offstage after the last song. “Where the hell are you going? You have the VIP meeting.”
“We have to skip,” Beckett insisted.
“Tell them we’ll refund, reschedule,” added Phin. “Move.”
The two of them slipped by, but I wasn’t so lucky. Gary grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. “You have the VIP meetup. You’re not skipping again.”
Seriously? I felt her. She was so close, and Gary wanted me to go get fawned over? Granted, I usually loved getting fawned over, but right now, all I wanted was to find Arlo. Find her .
“I can’t,” I said, trying to wriggle away.
“Like hell, you can’t. At least one of you is going to do this. What the fuck is going on? The press wants to know why Arlo left the stage.”
Shit. He wouldn’t react well to the truth. “Bad shrimp?”
Gary narrowed his eyes. “When did you have shrimp?”
“Uh…lunch?”
I could already tell he didn’t believe me, but it was as good an excuse as any to have the entire band fuck off.
He shoved me around the corner and in front of a reporter, and I did my best to school my features so I didn’t look high or panicked, though I was definitely both.
“Apollo,” the reporter greeted. “Arlo Cook left the stage rather abruptly in the middle of the concert, and fans are concerned. Would you care to comment?”
Fucking hell. Beckett was so much better at these. “Uh, yeah, bit of food poisoning, unfortunately. Not that the place we ordered from did anything wrong. Totally our fault.”
“Your fault how?”
Come on . I dragged my stray thoughts together, trying to construct a convincing lie. “Arlo’s a chatterbox, the tour bus got hot, and we got distracted.” Yeah, that was good. People would believe that, right? “Must’ve been past the safe limit by the time we got around to eating.”
“Is that why Beckett Campbell and Phineas Hall ran out a few moments ago?”
Oh, yeah. “Yep. They didn’t eat as much as Arlo, but it caught up to them.”
“And you’re well?”
“So far, so good,” I replied, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Will any of the band require medical attention?”
“If they do, we’ve got an excellent medical team on staff,” Gary added for me as he sidled up. “Our performers are very well taken care of. No need for the fans to worry. I’m sure Arlo will be feeling fit as a fiddle and back onstage for the next show.”
After a bit more chatter, I was finally free. Well, free from the reporter, anyway, because Gary was not going to let me off the hook.
“Get to the fucking VIP room. Now. I’ll go after the others, and I expect you to be there when I return.”
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “They’re actually sick. They held out as long as they could. Arlo had a double portion; that’s why he bolted early. I’ll go to VIP. Just let them rest.”
Gary sighed deeply. “You boys are the reason I have gray hair.”
I didn’t point out that Gary’d had gray hair since the day we met. “Sorry.”
I allowed him to herd me to where the fans would be waiting in a few moments.
Get it together . If my omega was actually here and Gary found out, he was going to freak the fuck out, maybe even drive her away, and I couldn’t allow that to happen. He didn’t like when we were distracted, and a pregnant omega was about the biggest distraction that could be dropped in our laps right now.
I knew how to handle fans. Sometimes it was easy when I found the ones I could form a genuine connection with, but a lot of the people who came to these events and paid extra to see us didn’t care which one of us they got to spend time with—or make out with or fuck. They wanted a story to tell. Screwing someone from Hard Knot Life made a good story. I didn’t blame them, not really. Being famous attracted all sorts, and just because they’d be as happy with me as they would with any of the others didn’t mean I had to hate our time together. I simply tried not to think about being interchangeable.
I slipped into the room, guzzling a bottle of water and shoveling half a protein bar into my face before chugging another bottle of water. We usually drank at least a little alcohol at these things, but I had to keep my head in the game right now.
The doors opened, and I flicked that little switch in my head that changed me from Hendrix to Apollo. That was who they were expecting, and I wasn’t going to disappoint.
I swung my arms wide, plastering a bright smile on my face. “Ladies! Welcome to VIP. It’s just me tonight, I’m afraid.”
A few of them pouted.
“I know, I know. Suck those beautiful lips back in. The others aren’t feeling well, so I get you all to myself.”
Our bartender emerged, getting drinks for everyone, and I took a soda for myself, sitting down on the couch, where I was instantly surrounded. The ventilation system wasn’t doing nearly a good enough job, the cacophony of scents making me dizzy. Or maybe that was whatever Gary had given me starting to wear off. Either way, I was miserable.
I used every ounce of brainpower to keep a smile on my face, to be charming but a little aloof, to be exactly who they thought they knew. I answered questions, redirected wandering hands at a rate that would usually have given me flutters of excitement but today only made my stomach turn.
The temptation to ask for something stronger from the bartender was ever present, but my omega was waiting. None of the others had come back, and it took a lot for my bandmates to skip their obligations, especially with paying fans.
The bartender waved me over, and I slipped away. He handed me a stack of red cups, a case of beer, and a package of Ping-Pong balls. “Something to occupy the masses, since you’re holding down the fort yourself.”
“You are a fucking angel. Thank you.” I snatched up the cups and spun around, holding them a loft. “Who wants to play beer pong with Apollo?”
The chorus of screams was exactly the reaction I had hoped for. At least if we had a game, no one would feel left out. The fans made quick work out of setting up everything, arranging the cups on a folding table while others emptied the cans into them. This definitely had the potential to backfire, but I was fucking awesome at beer pong.
We bent the rules to include more of those present, playing with teams of five and letting everyone else crowd around to watch. It was fun enough, the room full of raucous joy with every ball that landed in a cup. I lost track of how many pictures were taken, how many times my ass was groped, and how many women grabbed my face for a kiss when they sank a Ping-Pong ball. Whoever my omega was, she was not going to appreciate this many scents on me. I wasn’t appreciating it, either. The back of my mind kept reminding me that all of these were wrong. Not a single one of them was anything like the white rose and lilac I craved, even though I couldn’t remember the omega it belonged to.
Exhaustion sank into my bones. I didn’t fucking want to be here anymore. I hadn’t wanted to be here to begin with, but it didn’t matter. Even with fame and money, sometimes we were forced to play by rules we didn’t like. I knew why Gary was so insistent. These people paid good money for this experience, and if word started getting around that we weren’t fulfilling our end of the bargain, it was only a matter of time before we lost fans. I would suffer through a lot to stop that from happening.
“Apollo? Apollo!”
I jolted, turning to the brunette beta at my side. “Sorry. Yes?”
“It’s your turn.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if they would mind if I dipped out early, but I knew what the answer would be. I would do it for my pack. I set a mental timer, willing to give them twenty more minutes before I succumbed to the siren pull of my omega being nearby.
The others were probably with her right now. How fucking unfair was that? She was my bond mate, but everyone else got to run off and see her before I did.
I whipped the Ping-Pong ball and sank it into one of the few remaining cups, the women around me cheering. The rest of the game was a test of patience, and I felt myself losing it with every second that passed.
Glancing at the clock, I finally raised my arms. “Ladies, thank you for an incredible evening. I would love to spend hours more with you, but I’ve had a very long day. Please feel free to stick around, enjoy some drinks, and thank you so much for coming to our concert.”
I blew the room a kiss and spun on my heel, practically sprinting out the back door.
There. I had done my fucking duty. Now it was time to meet my omega.