32. Riley
Chapter 32
Riley
S ound-proof headphones are not, indeed, sound-proof. It’s fucking impossible to not hear the sound of Collins’ moans— again —mere feet away from me on the other side of the wall.
My mind has been fucked since I walked in on them hours ago, the first time he was wringing her pleasure from her.
The more I sat around them, the harder it became for me to wrap my head around because my own feelings were standing in the way like a fucking bouncer blocking a door I’m trying to exit through.
I feel like I’m spiraling. In the span of a week, it’s like I’ve been on a never-ending rollercoaster of emotion. It started with a long trip back to the U.S. from our European tour, then I got my first lap dance by none other than the girl Creed has been losing his mind over for the last two years—literally. Said girl, has become a friend, and my feelings rapidly grew into something more before I even had time to think about it. I could tell how she felt about Creed from the start, but that didn’t stop my heart and my head pining after her anyway. It fucking sucks because I’ve never felt anything for anyone before, and the first girl who actually makes me feel— the girl who gives me friendship and expects nothing in return—is in love with my best friend.
Shit on a motherfucking stick.
Another moan creeps through the walls and I can’t handle it anymore. I either need to blow out my eardrums with the volume of music already playing, or I need to alleviate the pressure rapidly growing behind my sweats. I value my position in the band, so I choose the latter. Considering the moans and whimpers coming from the other side of the wall, I think it’s pretty safe to say they won’t be emerging for a minute.
I palm my rigid dick over the fabric of my pants, squeezing once, twice, before she cries out again and I’m fucking gone. I pull the elastic far enough down my hips to free my aching cock and grip it tight.
Fuck.
I turn the volume of the music down with one hand while stroking myself from root to tip and listen to the sounds of Collins like an auditory voyeur. I close my eyes and the image of her splayed out on her back, that white hair of hers fanned across the pillows, her creamy thighs spread wide, her eyes closed and head thrown back in the throes of pleasure as Creed gives her what she’s craving.
I bite my lip to stifle a groan as I tug my cock harder, swiping my thumb over the leaking tip, spreading my precum around my shaft, making it slicker as I pump.
My breathing is heavier and I feel my balls tighten when my vision of her suddenly shifts, and it’s me kneeling before her, begging to worship her body. Fuck, what I would give to be the one between her thighs.
I didn’t see much of her when I’d accidentally walked in on her and Creed, but my imagination is running fucking rampant right now, just picturing the furrow of her brow as I sweep my tongue over the soft bud of her clit. I imagine the sounds that would escape as I devoured her sweet release, that rasp of her voice that is uniquely Collins .
My dick pulses as I squeeze my shaft harder, each stroke of my fist bringing me closer to blowing my load. For a moment, I let myself really drift off with this forbidden fantasy, imagining the feel of her pussy wrapping tight around my cock, her wetness allowing me to slide in, all the way to the hilt, like it’s where I’ve always belonged.
“ Fuuuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I know I’m not gonna last much longer. I rip my headphones off and chuck them to the side so I can hear every sound she makes, and as if on cue, she releases one last husky cry as she comes for Creed. That does it for me. I bite my lip and exhale heavily through my nose, trying like hell to not make a sound as my own orgasm rushes through me, long ropes of cum painting my black shirt in streaks of white.
My moment of bliss is short-lived before shame washes over me. I just fucking came at the thought of fucking my best friend’s girl.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I would never, fucking ever , betray my best friend by making such a move on Collins—or any woman for that matter. So why did I allow myself to fantasize about something so forbidden to me?
Not wanting to spiral too deep into my own thoughts, going too deep to dig myself out of the self-deprecating hole I’ve dug, I quickly roll my shirt up my stomach before whipping it off my head and wadding it into a ball and slip from the curtained bunk where I’d holed myself up.
I toss my shirt into the laundry hamper, and grab a new one from my bunk. Not knowing what to do with myself, I put on my headphones again, grab my silent drum pad and start tapping at it with my sticks, needing something to keep my mind busy. We’ve been on the road for a few hours now and I’m already going insane.
I couldn’t be happier for Creed and Collins, there’s no ‘but’ about it. However, being near Collins has sparked new emotions within me that I’ve never felt before. Maybe I should ask to stay with Bear until I get them under control. It’s only been a week, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to jeopardize my newfound friendship with my new best friend by doing something stupid. Like, accidentally flirt with her or something because I’ve never done that before, either.
It's fucking sad that I’m twenty-three and I’ve got no sexual experience other than jerking my dick.
Yep. You know that movie where the girl had never even been kissed before? That’s me. I’ve had zero sexual contact with any woman before. Other than hugging Collins, that is.
I give up on the drum pad and stalk over to the cabinet to grab my m&m’s only to find that over half of the giant bag is gone.
“Collins loves sweets, as you might have guessed.”
“ Jesus-fucking-Christ,” I jump, startled by the sudden timbre of Creed’s voice behind me.
I turn to see him leaning against the counter adjacent to me, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. “Sorry,” he apologizes, not looking sorry at all. Crazy bastard.
Just as I pull a handful of the chocolatey goodness out of the bag and go to pop them in my mouth, his entire demeanor shifts and so does the air around us. My hand pauses halfway to my mouth when he pulls a phone from beneath his arm where they were crossed. My brow furrows at it for a second before I take in the sparkling red case and realize that it’s not his phone. It’s Collins’.
“Why do you have that?” I ask, not wanting to butt into their business, but I know snooping in your brand new girlfriend’s phone is a pretty big fucking no-no.
“Relax, Ri. She knows I have it. It kept fucking vibrating after she fell asleep, and I asked her if I could take a look. I have her permission to look through it.” He turns and walks towards the couches and sits down on one.
I follow him and sit next to him as he unlocks the screen. He’s practically vibrating with anger as he opens up the text messaging app. There’s a small list of contacts she’s sent messages to, some of the names I recognize from the stories she’s told me about her co-workers at Viper. But at the top of the screen reads Unknown . Creed releases a heavy, rough breath before clicking on it. “Fucking look at this.” He seethes next to me as he angles the phone to where I can see it better.
I don’t even get to process what I’m looking at before Creed’s practically shoving the phone into my lap and shoves to stand, pacing a hole into the floor of the bus. I watch him with concern for a minute, wondering what the fuck could possibly be on Collins’ phone that’s shoving him back into crazy mode. My heart races and my palms get sweaty.
I pick up the phone but Creed’s hand slaps over the screen, and my head snaps up to meet his panicked gaze. His eyes are fighting between raging and devastated. Fuck. He swallows, his throat bobbing hard.
“Ri, there’s some… really fucking fucked up shit that he sent to her.” He grits through a clenched jaw. “She—” he pauses, looking away briefly before removing his hand and pointing at the screen instead.
I look down and start scrolling. When my brain processes what I’m looking at, nausea churns in my stomach. It’s image after image of Collins. She looks younger, and her tattoo is missing in some of them. I press my hand to my stomach as I take in the pictures this guy sent.
All of which are Collins in various forms of consciousness, but all of them, she’s covered either in blood or bruises. I squeeze the phone in my grip when I pause on one where she’s awake with her hands zip-tied to a headboard, and her legs pinned open with some kind of device strapped between her ankles. She’s clothed in a t-shirt and cotton shorts, but in this photo, you can see the hand-shaped bruises on her inner thighs and large bruises marring her wrists and upper arms. Her upper lip is split and bruised with blood running down her cheek, staining her white hair. Her eyes are swollen and lashes stuck together from crying, wet tears visible and shining at her temples.
I press down the bile threatening to rise as I take in each photo. My chest aches and my lungs cease to draw in another breath as I watch her expressions morph from fear to… nothing. The last photo is pretty similar to the first, but it must be more recent because that floral tattoo is cascading down her shoulder. But her eyes are completely vacant. Void of all emotion. She’s…dissociating.
I don’t know if I want to rage or if I want to puke.
Beneath the photo is a text message.
Unknown: What fun we had, little girl. You always bled so pretty for me.
Unknown: I can’t wait to paint you in my favorite colors again.
Unknown: You think you can run, but I will always find you, little girl.
Unknown: See you soon.
I stare at the phone, unseeing for a moment.
What. The. Fuck.
Slowly, I set the phone down, mindful not to launch it across the room, and lift my head, my eyes snapping to Creed’s crazed ones. His blue irises are downright menacing with the promise of a painful death. I can’t say I feel much different right now.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, unsure of what else to say.
“She—” he covers his mouth, his hand swiping furiously over his lips. “She fucking suffered because of me, Ri.” He resumes pacing while gripping his hair in tight fists, tugging hard.
Oh, fuck. He’s spiraling again.
I shoot off the couch, my mind immediately snapping into caretaker and storm tamer mode and grip my best friend by his shoulders and give him a single, firm shake. Now is not the time to play the fucking blame game. “We already had this talk, Creed. Stop. Focus.”
His wide eyed stare volleys on mine before he nods robotically. “She can’t—” he points at the phone again. “She can’t see that. And we,” he motions between us, “will not treat her any differently. She deserves to fucking heal and she can’t do that when she’s constantly reliving her past and looking over her shoulder.”
I nod in agreement. She’s easily the best person I’ve ever met besides my bandmates—most of them, anyway—and I’m in awe of just how wonderful she turned out to be as a human being, despite how all that she endured throughout her life. Collins deserves all things happy, and I stand by my promise to give that to her as her self-designated new best friend.
Creed finally takes a calming breath and flops onto the couch, worrying his bottom lips between his teeth so hard I’m afraid it’ll bruise or split. I sit next to him again and without looking at me, he starts speaking while staring at a fixed point on the floor. “When we stop for food I’m going to get her a new phone. The only numbers she’ll have are mine, yours, Asher’s, and Bear and Ayla’s. I know she’s got contacts that she spoke to at Viper, but we need to keep her contact with them nearly non-existent because we don’t know where Guy is.”
He picks up her phone and starts scrolling through old messages, his rage starting to reach a boiling point.
“He made it seem like he found her and has been following her. These pictures are proof that he’s watching her or at least has someone with eyes on her. From what I’ve read, he’s a wealthy, well-respected guy in the community. A snake. A fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’m hoping our spontaneous trip to see her brother and the trip straight here was enough to throw him off, though with powerful men comes powerful resources, so I doubt the harassment and stalking will stop.
He nods to himself, seeming to come to some internal conclusion. “We need to be smart about this, Ri. He’s clearly a dangerous man and he even fucking threatened you from your trip to the mall with Stardust earlier this week. We need to get this to someone who can try and locate where these messages are coming from and see if we can pinpoint that it’s actually her former foster father who’s been sending them.”
I nod again, knowing he’s right. We both think for a minute before we look at each other, and I’m pretty sure we just found the same answer to our unspoken question. Without a word spoken, Creed locks Collins’ screen again and pulls his own from his jean pocket, then dials and holds the phone out as it rings on speaker phone.
“Miss me already, Brother?” A deep voice chuckles out by way of greeting. I instantly recognize the voice as Collins’ older brother, Asher.
“I need a favor,” Creed rushes out, not bothering to play into Asher’s teasing words.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Asher snaps, his demeanor shifting, instantly alert.
Creed sighs before he speaks again. “I need you or one of those brothers you work for to look into an unknown number that’s been sending threatening texts to C—me.” He stumbles over the last words before he corrects himself. I lower my brows at him.
What the fuck is he doing?
He looks at me and shakes his head twice as if to say shut up and let me do the talking . I have no idea what he’s up to, not telling Asher that his own sister is the one being harassed. I know they hadn’t had contact in years, and Asher’s stayed out of the tabloids since he left the MLB years ago, but I briefly wonder if there’s a deeper reason for switching the narrative. But it’s a story I’ll ask about later. Right now we’ve got other problems to deal with.
The image of Collins being fucking duct taped or zip-tied to her bed covered in blood and bruises flashes through my mind. Nausea churns in my stomach at the thought and I squeeze my eyes shut as tears threaten to rise when I think about the sweet, beautiful girl who’s turned my whole world upside down in the span of a week.
I feel Creed’s hand cup the back of my neck and he squeezes once in comfort. The action is grounding and I suck in a deep breath. He might be a bit unhinged at times, but he always seems to know when to flip the switch to care for others. I open my eyes but keep them focused on the ground.
“I’m just a bodyguard right now, but Lachlan is the tech guy. Let me see if I can patch him into the conversation?”
“Please,” Creed says, his knees starting to bounce uncontrollably.
“Okay, hang on and I’ll call him.” The line goes quiet and we sit there waiting. Since we can’t both start spiraling, I reach over and squeeze his knee once. Instantly, he slows his bouncing. He eyes me and gives me a barely-there grateful smile but it drops the moment an unfamiliar foreign voice comes over the phone.
“Mister Saint James?” A male asks, his voice deep and crisp with a bit of a Scottish lilt.
“Uh—y-yes.” I know he usually finds it funny when others call him such a formal name, but right now there’s no humor to be found on his face.
“I’m Lachlan McTavish.” He introduces himself. “Sutton told me you’ve got an issue with an anonymous number contacting you with messages that are threatening in nature?”
I’ve heard about the McTavish family in Northern California. Creed had mentioned they own a nightclub, but I was curious about why they needed security so I looked them up. Rumor has it that they’re part of some kind of Scottish Mafia family, though nothing has ever been confirmed. I’m not one to judge someone based on their looks alone, and I’d only seen the one brother earlier this morning, but that scary, scarred-up fucker definitely fits the bill for belonging to an underbelly mob or something.
“Is Asher still on the line?” Creed asks, running a heavily tattooed hand through his hair.
“No,” Lachlan answers. “I sent him on an errand with my wife and her sister. It’s just us on the line. Is there something more you wish to tell me about this situation before we dive into details?”
Creed and I share a look with raised brows. Though I’m sure Creed’s question begged for discretion, but it’s like this dude can read our minds through the phone.
Creed glances down the hall, noting that Collins is still asleep before he speaks. “The harassment isn’t for me.”
“And who is the harassment aimed at?”
“It’s my…girlfriend.” He admits, and the word coming from his lips makes my stomach dip a little and a small wave of guilt rushes through me when I think about what I did earlier with her as the center of the fantasy.
“Your girlfriend?” Lachlan parrots.
“Yes. She’s Asher’s half-sister. Collins Weston.”
“Ah,” is all he says, as if it all makes perfect sense. Maybe Asher told him their story. “I have a program that can grant me access to the phone remotely, but I’d like to get some of the details from you first. I assume that Collins is aware that you are in possession of her phone?”
“Yes.” Is all Creed says blandly, and I catch him rolling his eyes out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help but silently laugh because it’s the second time he’s been grilled about that.
“What is the nature of these threats?”
Creed opens the phone that’s squeezed hard in his grip and he scrolls quickly past the images, trying to avoid looking at them before he reads off some of the messages that this dude has sent over the last week. And Jesus fucking Christ, this guy is an absolute lunatic.
After a couple seconds of silence pass, save for the sound of keys clicking on a keyboard before Lachlan clears his throat, trying to gain my best friend’s attention again. “Creed? Is there anything else I need to know about before I access the device?”
Fuck. Creed’s knee starts bouncing again. He’s silent for too long and Lachlan tries saying his name again. I squeeze his knee again to try and calm him as I try to swallow past all the dryness that’s taken over my mouth. “Sir,” I interject, “My name is Riley Graves. I’m Creed’s friend and housemate. I’m somewhat aware of what’s going on, so I’ll do my best to help answer questions.”
“Very well.” Lachlan answers simply.
I clear my throat, swallowing past the lump lodged there. “There are, um, pictures in this text thread.” I exhale a shaky breath, my heart pounding. “They’re not good. Each one looks like it was taken in the past by whoever this guy is, and she’s in some…” I curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “They’re just…they’re triggering. Sensitive and vulnerable, and she looks like she’s been injured in each photo.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I speak. “I know it’s your job to investigate, but I— we— don’t want anyone to see her like this.”
Lachlan was silent for another beat before he says so low, you can barely hear him. “Any content on this phone will be kept secure and confidential. No one besides the three of us will have access to it, and I’ll do my best to find out who the motherfucker is that’s behind this as quick as I can.” He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “My wife was taken about a year ago by a stalker. She kept the threats to herself until it was too late, so I’m proud of your girl for coming to you with this in the first place.”
I’m sure he’s not talking to me, and it’s a super inappropriate time to think this, but I can’t help but think his words are directed at me when he says your girl. She’s not mine, but I’ll protect her like she is because in a way, she is mine. She’s my friend. My family. She’s everything and I will do anything I can to keep her safe.
Creed snorts, his voice laced with humor for the first time during this conversation. “Didn’t give her much of a choice in the matter. If it was up to her, we’d never have known.”
“I know the type all-too-well, unfortunately.”
“Alright, so what do you need from us on our end to do this?”
More clicking sounds and Lachlan sounds like he’s now on speaker. “I have a system that can hack into a phone’s system remotely, I just need you to call me from that phone and I should be able to take over the interface and access the messages. Once I’m in, my program will intercept and record any and all incoming calls and texts. Hopefully I can get an accurate location based on the surrounding towers the IP address pings from. Sometimes we get the occasional techie who can scramble the location or is able to hit from separate cellular towers, but let’s hope that’s not the case.”
“Why do we not want that?” Creed asks, but then adds quickly, “I mean I know why we don’t want that, but why don’t you want that?”
“Because it’ll make finding the stalker more difficult. If we can’t pinpoint a location, then we have no way of knowing whether this guy is actually following Collins or if he’s all talk from a distance.” Lachlan answers and anxiety roils within me.
“Either way, I want this fucker found and dealt with.” My head snaps to Creed at the venom in his words.
“You want him dealt with by the law?” Lachlan asks casually, like what my best friend is implying is the same mundane topic as talking about what he wants to eat for lunch.
“You’re a McTavish, right?”
A pause. “I am.”
“Then you know exactly how I want him dealt with.”
Lachlan is quiet for a moment, then, “Understood. Keep the phone charged so I have constant access to it. Try to keep Collins from using it or resetting it so that I don’t lose connection to the device.”
“I’m getting her a replacement today and I’ll keep this one plugged in and in a drawer so it’s out of sight and out of mind. Do you need anything else from us?”
Lachlan simply repeats that he needs us to dial from her phone. Once we do that, he confirms the connection and tells us to put the phone out of sight and that he’d keep us updated. After he disconnects the call, Creed calls and arranges for extra security around Collins. He wasn’t stripping her of freedom, but I doubt she’d take kindly to having new shadows following her everywhere. But that’s where we come in.
Creed and I will do our best to distract her and to keep her happy. I think she’ll be glad to be rid of the nasty shit that this guy has been sending her.
Collins is still napping by the time we stop for our first stretch break so when Creed comes out of the bathroom, I catch him by his elbow, speaking low, not wanting Collins to hear in case she wakes now that the bus isn’t moving. “You didn’t really mean what I think you meant when you told Lachlan to deal with it , did you?”
That half-unhinged grin spreads across Creed’s face and his ice blue eyes light up as he tips his head to one side, his expression full of mischief and malice. Fuck, this situation has Crazy Creed rearing his wild head. “What did you think I meant, Ri?”
I look around, double checking to make sure Collins isn’t listening around a corner. “You don’t mean for them to… kill the guy?”
Creed’s smile never wavers. In fact, it gets fucking crazier. I jump when both of his hands clasp my cheeks by my jaw and he just stares at me with that cocksure, shit-eating grin. It’s really unnerving. Then Creed does his Creed thing and pulls me in, pecking me on the tip of my nose with his lips before releasing me with a pat on my cheek. “You’re so smart, Riley Benjamin.” And he walks down the hall, chuckling.
Oh, fuck.
This is getting bad. Creed has never been a violent man, but what Collins’ former foster father has done has him fucking contemplating premeditated murder. I mean… I can’t blame him after seeing what I saw, but still. Murder?
A few minutes later, I hear the gleeful rasping squeal that is uniquely Collins and the tension leaves my body and my heart warms at the sound of her laughter. Creed reappears at the same time I plop back onto one of the couches with a laughing Collins thrown over his shoulder.
My eyes momentarily snag on the roundness of her ass and the smoothness of the backs of her thighs. I also don’t miss the Creed- sized handprint near her ass as well. My cheeks heat and my dick twitches at the thought of Creed spanking her. My mind flashes to the images of her bound and gagged and I quickly shove them away, giving her a huge grin when Creed finally sets her back on her feet. I slip my Vans onto my feet and push to a stand.
“Sleep well, Snow ?” I ask her, ruffling her hair as I pass her to head towards the steps of the bus.
“Very, I haven’t been able to sleep that hard in a very long time.” She says softly behind me as she follows me off the bus, Creed right behind her to lock up.
“It’s not the only thing that’s been that hard in a very long time.” Creed mutters under his breath. Collins chokes on air and I feel my face heat, remembering earlier when I had come to the sound of Creed and Collins doing…whatever they were doing to make her moan like that. I kept facing forward to hide my embarrassment.
We round the corner to the restaurant that Steve had booked out for us. Collins catches up to me and links her arm through mine. I glance over at Creed who’s caught up to us and he seems blissfully unaffected by the fact that his girl is currently clinging to me. Neither of them know you’re fucking crushing hardcore on her. You’re her newly appointed best friend. Be that for her.
“Have you ever been to this restaurant?” she nods toward the entrance.
Words & Whiskey.
“Yeah,” Creed answers, slinging an arm over her shoulder and kissing her temple as we approach the front door. “When our tours take this route, Steve usually books out the same restaurants because the owners are all familiar with us and are able to keep out other patrons to reduce the risk of paparazzi invading our personal lives and downtime.”
She nods, “That makes sense.” Creed opens the door and ushers us in with extra flare. I roll my eyes and jab him in the side with my elbow when I pass him. He seems a little more tame now that he’s got his eyes and hands on Collins, so I relax, knowing his crazy isn’t shining as brightly as before. He lets out a dramatic umph and clutches his side before pulling me into a headlock only to smack a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek.
“You’re disgusting,” I say, though I’m chuckling as I wipe my cheek on the shoulder of my shirt.
“You love me.” He says, patting my cheek like he loves to do, and walks up to Collins, wrapping an arm around her waist. She melts into him. I can’t deny how much I love the way her body relaxes when she’s around him. That she can finally just release the tension she’s been clinging to for so long.
She hasn’t asked for her phone and I’m not sure if Creed has clued her in to anything yet, but I leave it be.
The rest of the crew is already seated within a large circular booth at the back of the restaurant. This place is actually pretty cool. It’s got warm tones throughout and dim lighting. There’s a mini stage in the opposite corner that serves as the speakeasy on weekdays, but on weekends it turns into a stage for smaller bands and the occasional karaoke DJ. Tonight I guess it’s karaoke because an already drunken Tony is up there singing along to False Pretense by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. I roll my eyes. How appropriate.
Bear and Ayla sit at one end of the booth, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Creed ushers Collins in next to Ayla, then slides in after her, and I sigh while sliding in last, knowing I’ll have to tolerate Tony. But I’d rather it be me than Creed while he’s still half in and out of his crazy state. Definitely me over Collins sitting beside him. Tony is unpredictable when he’s sober, but he’s worse as a drunk, like when he was continuously verbally harassing her at the club. I couldn’t be more thankful for him passing out when he did. While I was trying to not combust at Collins dancing in my lap, I’m not sure I could’ve taken it if she’d done the same for someone like Tony who would only debase and degrade her for dancing.
“You want to split this appetizer sampler?” I hear Collins shout over Tony’s shitty singing and I look up to see her eyeing me and Creed. “I know they’ve got other fancy stuff on the menu, but greasy finger foods sound delicious.” She practically moans the last word and Creed and I both freeze and he shifts, no doubt adjusting his hard on as he slips his hand to her thigh under the table.
I place a hand over my chest and groan playfully. “A woman after my own heart, Snow . This is why you’re my best friend.”
Creed’s head snaps to me, his face a mask of mock horror. “I thought I was your best friend?”
I laugh at his expression and nudge his shoulder, hating that I still have to yell over Tony’s song. “Can you blame me? She’s the fucking coolest. How can I not give her the number one best friend spot?”
“Ha!” Collins pumps her fists into the air as Ayla laughs and Creed says at the same time, “You got me there.”
The girls start talking after placing their order and Creed leans in with his chin propped on his fist like he’d rather be nowhere else but right here, in the thralls of girl-talk.
I look over to see that Bear is sitting quietly, looking at something on his phone that’s got him frowning suddenly. He’s usually a pretty serious and stoic guy, but this look is actually tugging the corners of his lips down. All the humor of his demeanor earlier has evaporated. My brow furrows when I see the grip he has on his phone tighten to the point of his knuckles whitening.
I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay, hating that something is bothering him, but the entire bench shifts as Tony plops down hard with a loud, drunken whoop. “You are the fuckin’ best, man,” he points his beer at the DJ, his words slurring. Jesus, he had to have been drinking on the bus to be this intoxicated already. “I’m coming back for round two after I finish this beer, yeah?” he calls out. The DJ nods noncommittally as he plays some quieter music in the background.
It's just us in here, as Steve’s booked out the entire place .
Tony presses into me, his stale breath fanning across my face. “You guys order already—” he pauses and I finally look at him to see he’s staring past me. Right at Collins. His eyes are raking over anywhere she’s not covered by the table and it makes me uncomfortable for her.
I instinctively lean forward to block her from his view and try to strike up conversation with him, though it’s painful. “We ordered a few of the sampler platters while you were..ah..singing.”
“Right on,” he nods, trying to look round me again. “Who’s the chick? I saw her on your bus earlier. She a tagalong ?”
A tagalong unfortunately isn’t the name of the delicious cookie anymore. It’s the name Tony gave to women—or groupies, specifically—who were invited to stay with one of the bandmates for a length of the tour. He was the only one who took part in this escapade that he started, but it quickly got shut down by Creed when he caught Tony one night years ago crowding one of the girl’s personal space, trying to kiss her and touch her while she was too intoxicated to tell him no.
“She’s not a tagalong, Tony.” I say bluntly, wishing he’d take another shot and just pass out already. “She’s… family.” And she is, in a way.
“So she’s fair game?”
“ NO,” Creed and I snap at the same time.
Tony’s eyes flare with curiosity as they ping back and forth between me, Creed, and Collins. His eyes narrow as he takes another swig of his beer. “Riley just said she’s family. So if she’s not yours, then she’s fair game.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too fucking much, Ritz?” That was Bear who finally looked up from his phone. “Family is more than blood. That’s what we’re supposed to be, so if a bandmate says someone is off limits, then she’s off-fucking-limits, right?” He chastises, raising a condescending eyebrow at the loudmouth next to me.
Tony just slumps down in his seat like a pouty child. “Whatever man. ”
“For the record,” I say, leaning over, not wanting Tony to stew and cause a scene later, “She does belong to Creed. They’re together and he is extremely protective of her so keep your fucking thoughts to yourself.”
“Fuck off, you peace-keeping hippie.” Tony grumbles and stumbles out of the booth and over to the bar, taking a seat there.
Not sure that his comment about calling me a peace-keeping hippie was necessary but I don’t give a shit. I do want to keep the peace. We don’t need to give the press any ammunition. Something Lachlan had warned us about. Having Collins’ face in the tabloids could be detrimental if the information on her whereabouts got back to her stalker. If he’s lost track of her, we don’t want her to be found.
After an hour of sitting and chatting and stuffing our faces, Creed disappears to go get her last gift from the bus and she slides over to me, nudging my shoulder with hers. I force myself to ignore the heat from her body and the amazing way she smells like candy so sweet that I want to bury my face in her neck to see if she tastes just as sweet.
“Do you sing?” She asks while sipping her virgin strawberry daiquiri.
“What?” I ask, completely distracted by her.
She giggles into her straw and sips again. “I asked if you could sing, too? Or is it just drums for you?”
“Oh,” I rub at the back of my neck, “I just like to stick to drums. I mean, I sing, but I’m not anywhere near Creed’s level.”
She turns her body to face me and I’m captivated by her jade-green eyes. She studies me for a second before setting her drink down and scoots out of the booth, shoving me out first.
“What are you doing, Snow?” I say, trying to catch my footing but now she’s in front of me, yanking me along with a huge smile on her face. Her hair is now pulled up into a messy bun-type thing with longer tendrils hanging down around her face. She’s fucking adorable. We stop in front of the Karaoke DJ and it’s become very clear what she wants .
The girl is challenging me like she did at the mall. I back up a step. “Oh, no. Nope. I don’t sing, Snow .”
“Come on,” She pleads, folding her hands under her chin and looking at me with doe eyes.
“That… that is unfair.” I gesture to her face, laughing softly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She feigns innocence, batting her lashes. This girl.
“Did you want to sing, or?” The DJ asks through our banter.
“No,”
“Yes,” –we answer at the same time.
Creed sneaks up behind Collins and wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the top of her head. “You gonna sing for me, Stardust ?”
“Ha! No,” she barks a sarcastic laugh that breaks at the end. “Riley is.” She says with full confidence.
Creed eyes me. “You are?”
“I can’t sing—” I start to deny it, but now there’s a fucking dare in Creed’s eyes, too.
“Horseshit, Ri.” He turns to Collins, a goofy grin on his face. “This guy can absolutely sing.”
Collins looks at me with a brow raised and I raise my arms out to my sides, partially in defeat, but partially as a what the fuck to Creed for outing me. I’ve never sung in front of anyone but him and even that was an accident. “I have no idea what to sing.”
“One second,” Creed says as he eyes a guitar behind the DJ and hops up on the stage. “You mind if I borrow this, man?”
The DJ just shakes his head with a smile and gestures to the stool behind him. “Be my guest.”
With a nod of thanks he scoots it over near the microphone and strums it a few times, checking the tuning. “Come on, Ri. I’ve got just the song.”
Collins stays right where she’s at, standing at the edge of the stage and looks up at us after I hop up and stand next to Creed. He starts strumming and immediately I recognize the song. It’s not one of our own, but it’s one of my favorites.
I grip the microphone on the stand and look at Creed who gives me a softened grin and nods. Looking up, my eyes lock onto Collins who is watching on bated breath, her fingers twined together in front of her. On the next beat, I open my mouth and sing.