4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
W ith a slanted smile on his lips, North pushed away from the wall, ready to be the asshole everyone knew and loved. He had a reputation to keep.
“Mr. Beauregard?”
North turned, shielding his eyes as the sun broke past the treeline at the other end of the lot, sending a sharp pain through his alcohol-abused brain. He blinked fast, trying to make out the face of the tall woman striding toward him.
Black hair pulled back in a tight braid, the woman had deep-toned brown skin and rich brown eyes. She didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup, besides a bit of gloss on her lips. Her outfit was all black, boots, jeans, and an XVI Hours T-shirt. Not a groupie—not with that hard gaze and military walk. She reminded him a lot of Ballz.
“Yeah?” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. “What can I do for you?”
She held out her hand. “My name is Vanessa Templar—Van for short—”
“That’s gonna be confusing. Some of the guys call Jesse ‘Vaugn’.” North relaxed a bit when her brow furrowed. He’d been given her name by Reese, so he knew who she was, but maybe she wouldn’t be as uptight as those on the Winter’s Wrath’s crew who’d been Marines. “You’re our new security, right?” He looked over the tight muscles of her arms and the rigid set of her shoulders. “I feel safer already.”
“If you’re concerned a woman can’t fulfill this position, I assure you—”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. You look like you could kick some ass.” He patted his own arm, which had some nice definition, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to challenge someone like her, whose whole bearing radiated strength. “This is all for show.”
Her lips quirked slightly and she nodded. “Very well. If you’d rather call me—”
“I’ll call you Van if you’d prefer.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d stop interrupting me.” Vanessa’s tone hardened. “Whatever you decide to call me, your safety is my priority. Orion, Quinton, and Kace will be arriving within the next twenty minutes. Annette is secure on the bus with Winter’s Wrath’s head of security present. I will try not to restrict your movements, beyond what’s absolutely necessary, but so long as you are in an exposed area, I’ll remain close.” She held his gaze for a moment, continuing when he inclined his head. “Now are you planning to spend some time with your fans?”
“I was debating going over there and finding a few people to fuck.” He waited a beat, pleased when her expression didn’t change. The band did need security, and a bodyguard who couldn’t take him being crass would probably ditch them after the first week. “I hope that won’t make you uncomfortable?”
With a dry smile, she shook her head. “If that made me uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have taken the job. You won’t shock me, North. This is nothing I didn’t learn about you from scrolling through a few articles online. I expect it will take longer to find out the things I really need to know.” She held her hand out toward the crowd. “Until then, I’m only here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“Works for me.” He started forward, slowing as the noisy throng was ushered back from the barrier and the partition was moved to allow a long, black limo to pass. His throat locked when he saw Brave leaning out the window, quickly signing whatever was thrust at him past the bodyguards, smiling as cameras flashed in his face. Behind him was Malakai, trying to tug him back, but North couldn’t make out anyone else.
Was Tate with them? He’d assumed Winter’s Wrath was already on their bus, but maybe they’d had something scheduled this morning? Something important enough to merit the extravagance of a limo?
Brave might simply be showing off, but as much as the lead singer of the chart-topping band irritated North, he didn’t see the man wasting money on appearances for a drive to the warehouse district. And either way, the rest of the band—minus Connor—had to be in there.
North couldn’t face Tate. Not yet. Not out here when he hadn’t had enough coffee, when he was still hungover, when he’d pulled on regular jeans and a T-Shirt and looked fucking…ordinary. The fans would love him, no matter how he looked, but Tate—to steal himself against Tate’s cool dismissal again, North needed his leather and studs, his black eyeliner, his sunglasses, as many layers as he could manage to feel untouchable. To not care.
He backed away from the crowd, spinning around, shoulders hunched.
Vanessa effortlessly kept pace with him, not asking why he’d changed his mind, simply walking with him back to XVI Hours’ bus.
She didn’t say a word when he stopped by the door, leaning against the side of the bus and reaching into his pocket for the small baggie he’d shoved in there.
But when he moved to pop the pill in his mouth, she caught his wrist.
“What is that?”
He frowned at her, then stared at her hand. “Tylenol. Do you mind?”
“Yes, I do. Let me see.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because Reese is having a drug test done for all members of both bands before the tour starts. It’s in your contact.” Vanessa sighed at his blank look and released his wrist. “You did read your contract, didn’t you?”
“Annette read it.” North lowered his hand, fisting it around the pill that would have made this morning fucking bearable. “I don’t even know if this would show.”
“I’ll ask again. What is it?”
North scowled, shoving the pill back in his pocket. He was careful with the shit he took, only indulging now and then, mostly when he needed a bit of a high to get through a night at a club. Or, like now, when he needed to mellow out.
He didn’t expect Reese to understand. And he didn’t know Vanessa, so why would he tell her anything?
“North, let me make one thing clear. I am not here to judge you, but if you’re addicted to some kind of pills that will put you in danger, I need to know.”
“So you can tell Reese?”
“I work for the band, not for Reese. She simply drew up my contract for you. Which includes a non-disclosure agreement.” She studied him for a moment, her jaw ticking with frustration, but her tone remained calm. “I can’t force you to tell me, but I’d rather not have you end up the next beloved star who died too young because of an overdose.”
“I never take more than one.”
“What about mixing with alcohol?”
He made a face. All right, he wasn’t always careful with that. “It’s just Ativan. I used to have a prescription.”
“As in you no longer do?”
“Didn’t need it anymore.” He frowned at her skeptical look. “I like how it makes me feel, but I don’t need it.”
She nodded slowly. “Which I’m sure your doctor told you, which is why you’re getting refills from someone else.”
Tipping his head back against the bus, he inhaled slowly. “No, because fucking my doctor was starting to make me feel like a whore again. I couldn’t afford insurance, so I did what I had to, okay? This guy I know sells them to me cheap.”
“Can you afford insurance now?”
“We’re paying your insurance, so of course I can.” He tried to keep the sharpness from his tone, but he hated talking about shit like this. And he hated fucking doctors, so he didn’t plan to see another. The drugs he took weren’t a big deal. Ecstasy once in a blue moon, the Ativan, and edibles because they didn’t give him any side-effects, but he’d run out of the latter.
He’d done hard shit in the past, but as the band grew in popularity he’d realized he couldn’t rise with them and be stoned out of his mind all the time. Luckily, he’d been able to kick the worst of them on his own, isolating himself from the band so they wouldn’t see him a sweaty, shaky mess.
They still thought he was stoned half the time, but he didn’t bother correcting them. He’d tried going all legit and seen a doctor after they’d sold the rights for their first big hit, but when the medical bills started coming in, and he had to choose between chipping in for the band or paying the doc… Well, he’d come up with another arrangement.
Anything for his health , right?
“Look, the NDA means you don’t repeat anything I said?” He relaxed at her nod. “Cool. Then I won’t take any more pills. It’s been a few weeks, so I’ll pass the drug test. Then I’ll just drink myself stupid if I’m antsy.”
She folded her arms over her small breasts. “Are you feeling that way now?”
“Are you gonna be the band’s therapist? Like Ballz is for Winter’s Wrath?”
Her lips curved as she shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’d talk to you if you needed.”
“Considering I almost got his girlfriend knocked the fuck out? Naw, I don’t think he would. But I’m good. Honest.” He pulled the baggie out of his pocket, popped the pill inside, then handed his remaining stash to her. “Here. You can flush them. That’s all I have and no one touches anything besides weed unless I’m handing it out.”
Her brow lifted. “That easy?”
“That easy.” He took a deep breath. “You’re here to make sure Annette is safe. If you’re worried about us mixing shit and getting ourselves dead, you’ll be distracted.”
“I’m here for all of you, North, but I appreciate this.” She palmed the baggie, her lips thinning slightly. “Since you’ve been honest with me so far, please don’t hesitate to do the same if you’re having trouble. Or if you slip up.”
“I will. I promise.” North glanced over as Annette climbed off the bus, followed by Connor and Ballz. “Annette, this is our new head of security, Vanessa Templar. Vanessa, this is Annette Paige or… no, it’s Phelan now. And her husband, rhythm guitarist for Winter’s Wrath, Connor Phelan.” He nodded toward Ballz. “I take it you know Winter’s Wrath’s head of security, Ballz…umm…”
“Balthazar Bornstein. Yes, we met briefly earlier this morning.” Vanessa inclined her head to Ballz— Balthazar? Huh —shook Annette’s then Connor’s hands, and continued. “Once XVI Hours is all here, I’d like to go over the new security measures. I’ll be coordinating with Winter’s Wrath’s detail, so it should be an easy transition, but until the threat is eliminated, there will be some necessary restrictions on your movements.”
“I fucking hate this.” Annette leaned against Balthazar’s side, pressing her eyes shut as he put his arm around her. “Everyone should be excited about the tour, not worrying about me.”
“If I do my job, you can all be excited anyway, Annette.” Vanessa gave the singer an encouraging smile. “I was just speaking to North about the priorities for the band and I’m confident we’re all on the same page.”
Really? North grinned, even though Annette, Balthazar, and Connor looked shocked. People didn’t usually have nice things to say after meeting him for the first time, but Vanessa was fucking cool. Talking to her made him feel better about the tour—at least until he spotted a man making his way past the security barrier.
Despite the dark blue hoodie with the hood pulled up and his head down, North would recognize the way that man moved anywhere. He swallowed as he watched Tate cut across the parking lot, rolling a suitcase behind him, a school bag slung over his shoulder, heading straight for Winter’s Wrath’s bus without glancing up once.
At first, North wished he would look over. That he could catch Tate’s eye and…and maybe see what had once been there. A warmth no other man had ever given him. A connection where they could share thoughts and dreams no one else would care about. The way he’d had of staring up at North as though he was worth more than a quick fuck.
His last words to North had proved he wasn’t even worth that.
Gritting his teeth, North dragged his gaze back to the small group around him, shaking his head when Vanessa gave him a concerned look.
“The priority is finding out who’s after Annette and making sure we put on a damn good show every fucking night.” North fisted his hands by his sides, struggling against the urge to glance over again at the click of the other bus’s door. “Nothing else matters.”