6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
T he box of drug tests sat on the dashboard of Oakley’s car. He stared at the thing, then at the bus he’d parked beside, guts churning. His first time meeting XVI Hours and he’d be asking them to piss for him. Well, for the test, but with something so intrusive, he doubted they’d see any difference.
This had to be a cruel joke Aunt Reese was playing on him. Was she really that angry he’d lost his first job? Why not give him a chance to get another normal one? He could do better. He was very motivated.
Dropping his head back against the seat, he closed his eyes and pictured the bandmembers, all of them glaring at him before one finally got fed up and punched him. Likely breaking his nose. Maybe a few teeth. If he asked nicely, they might avoid beating him too badly—just enough to give him a good excuse to return to his aunt, admit he wasn’t fit for the job, then go home.
Then what? You live with Mom until she gets fed up of your pathetic ass too?
Oakley rubbed a hand over his face. He’d tried to prove he could be independent, but the execution never turned out the way he planned. He wanted people to like him. He didn’t have many friends, so when the few he had asked him for things, he couldn’t say no.
Mom worried that his friends were using him, but he refused to believe that. They’d been there for him even when…even when he’d been completely broken. Unable to care for himself in the most basic ways. So had his mother, but she didn’t want his help with anything anymore. Not around the house, not at her software company—hell, his gratitude only seemed to upset her.
One accident and his life might as well be over. He hated thinking like that, but seven years later and he still wasn’t a ‘real adult’. While everyone he’d gone to high school with was building families and careers, he was still stuck in the same place he’d been at eighteen.
He was lucky and he knew it. Things could have gone so much worse. Rather than coddling him and paying for his car and his one failed attempt at having his own apartment, his mother could still be spoon-feeding him three times a day. Or having nurses do it. She could be forced to watch him lie in that bed he’d been stuck in for the rest of his life, rather than several months.
His eyes burned as he remembered the first time he’d heard the doctor talking to her about his future.
“That he’s become somewhat responsive is encouraging, but you should prepare for a tough battle even if he does wake up. He’ll have to learn how to walk again. How to speak. How to write.” The doctor’s voice was so far away, but it might as well be right in his ear, telling him everything was hopeless. “Your son may never be who he was again.”
“He’s alive. That’s all I care about.” His mother’s tone was soft. A little raw, as though she’d been crying, but he sensed her determination. “Tell me what I have to do to give him his best chance and I’ll do it.”
His mother had done that and more. Aunt Reese wasn’t really punishing him, she was pushing him in a way his mother couldn’t. Didn’t make suddenly being on his own, away from the security he’d relied on for too long, any better, but…that was the point.
As dependant as he’d become, he wasn’t completely oblivious. The only way he’d ever get out on his own would be to remove the temptation—from both himself and Mom—to stick to the status quo. Sure, she could still wire him money, but he wouldn’t ask for a dime. He never did.
The car had been a ‘surprise gift’ when Mom heard he was taking public transportation. Paying his rent the result of her checking in with his landlord because Oakley had missed a call from her when he was in the shower. All things he should tell her not to do, but how the hell could he? He couldn’t say he didn’t need her anymore, he’d always need her. Though, not as he had when relearning things she’d taught him as a child.
Going from his first apartment to living on a tour bus traveling across the country was exactly the kind of drastic change Aunt Reese would consider reasonable. He hadn’t told her how terrified he was. He didn’t want to insult a band she was so committed to, but they were the type of people Oakley used to hang around with. Wild and reckless and unlikely to listen to a word he said. Being the responsible one hadn’t saved him in the past.
“Turn the music up, Oakley! I love this song!”
“Danny, get back in your seat!”
“Oakley look out!”
A knock on the window made him jump. He gripped the steering wheel, lifting his head and staring up. Then smiled when he saw it was only Vanessa.
She smiled back at him as he rolled down the window. “Getting your nerve up to meet the guys or are you planning to drive away?”
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and leaned back with a heavy sigh. “I haven’t decided yet.” Absently brushing his hand through his hair, he touched the base of the scar that stretched from behind one ear, all the way to the center of his skull. Thankfully well hidden by his thick, white locks. “Have you met them?”
“I’ve met North and Annette. I think you’ll like them.”
“North is the one who was in jail.”
“The charges were dropped. And if you’d read the whole report you’d know North didn’t lay a hand on the man. He was considered an accessory to the crime.” Vanessa watched his face closely, as though trying to read something in his reaction. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her. “You don’t have to be afraid of them, Oakley.”
He should insist he wasn’t, but he didn’t want to lie to her. Instead, he grabbed the box off the dashboard. “I have to ask them to piss.”
She spat out a laugh. “Which will be funny as hell. Will you do it before or after you introduce yourself?”
“Before. Then they won’t know my name and it will be harder to hunt me down.”
Resting her folded arms on the open window, her chin on them, Vanessa held his gaze for a moment. “Have you considered there’s a reason Reese asked you to do this? Besides forcing you to be independent? She doesn’t seem like the type who’d set someone up to fail.”
Why did the woman have to be so damn reasonable? And so hard to ignore? Her voice had a smooth, calming quality, her light brown eyes so warm and earnest he couldn’t help wondering what she saw when she looked at him. Not a weak man or a failure—she wouldn’t be wasting her time if she saw that, right?
Dark brown hair pulled back in tight braids, smooth rich brown skin glistening with golden hues in the sunlight, Vanessa really did look like a model. Or an athlete. Or a damn goddess. Everything about her radiated strength. He wasn’t sure why he’d questioned her being the head of security for a second. She’d keep the band safe.
But could he do his job half as well? He wanted to argue with her assessment of his Aunt’s choice, but he couldn’t say anything bad about Aunt Reese. Except that any faith she had in him was misplaced. “I doubt she expects me to fail, but—”
“Then don’t.” She straightened and opened the driver’s side door. “Your first task is to make sure our band is free from any drugs that will impact them or the music. Do that. You’ll be learning along the way, so no one expect you to know everything. They’ll be grateful to finally have some help.”
“Our band…” He rubbed his hands over his lips, then laughed. “You make it sound like we’re going to be part of something.”
“We are.” Her smile widened as he rolled up the window and climbed out of the car, holding the box. She squeezed his shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Ish?” He grinned at her laugh, keeping to her side as she started toward the bus. “Is there anything I need to know before we head in?”
She slowed as they reached the bus. “Only that they’re people, Oakley. Not wild rock stars, not criminals. Just people."
Squaring his shoulders, he inclined his head. The bus door was open and he climbed the steps, box under one arm, surprised at how quiet things were. He moved past the large, leather driver’s seat with a small, foldable co-driver’s seat in the space closest to the door, observing his surroundings for a moment. Beyond the entrance was a large space with two long, dark blue sofas, one on each side against the walls, two large screen TVs above one. All the windows were shaded in black, but the area was well lit. Clean.
Of course, no one had been living here yet, so that would change. He could deal with a reasonable amount of clutter, but not puke and spilled beer everywhere, which was what he’d imagined. So far so good.
At the end of the open area was a small kitchenette that consisted of a full sized sink, a long counter with a microwave, toaster oven, coffee pot, a small inlaid fridge below and a row of drawers. Cabinets lined the walls, big enough for dishes and a modest amount of food. They’d have to stock up pretty often to feed everyone unless they had takeout often—he really hoped not.
The small table and bench across from the kitchenette wouldn’t sit more than four, but when he looked back at the lounge sofas, he saw what looked like compartments by the armrests. If there were trays in there, everyone could eat comfortably at the same time.
Beyond a black curtain was two rows of bunks, four on each side, which would be enough, but he’d expected more. If he hired extra security, or roadies, they’d have to rent a camper or something for them to sleep in.
The bathroom was small, but that didn’t surprise him. He stepped in, actually impressed by the size of the shower behind a sliding glass door. Losing bunk space had paid off in one way at least, he wouldn’t feel like he was standing in a coffin to wash.
Soft voices came from the very back of the bus. He followed them, expecting to find another lounge area, like he’d seen on the tour buses he’d looked up online. Instead there was a decent sized room, with a full-sized bed, a small loveseat, and more TVs.
On the bed were two men, both muscular, though one looked like he worked out as a hobby, while the other had the tight build of a soldier, with a close-shaved hairstyle to match. The first man had longer brown hair, rumpled as though he’d just woken up.
Relaxing between them, leaning against their thighs, was a young woman with auburn hair and white skin only slightly less tanned than the men’s. She was familiar from the files he’d gone over. Annette Paige, the backup singer.
The lead singer, North Beauregard, was on the loveseat with the lead guitarist, Kace Raybourne. The two men looked quite comfortable, North slouched back, one knee bent, with Kace half lying on him, both facing the TV. Kace had skin only a bit darker brown than Oakley’s, while North was the palest of the group.
He hadn’t been so pale in his pictures. Damn it, had he been getting high all summer? Wasting away without the constant touring and making music to keep him focused? Oakley tightened his grip on the box in his hands, hating that he might be the one to find out within the next hour and have to tell the vocalist he couldn’t join them on the road.
And what then? Find a replacement? Or could Annette carry the band on her own?
Why the hell did anyone think I was fit to make decisions like this?
He was still standing partially in the bunk area. Far enough that they might not have noticed him. They were watching TV, but he couldn’t hear it, so they must all be wearing earbuds. Maybe he could…
But no, he sensed someone’s gaze and looked back at the bed. The military-type man hadn’t moved, but his eyes were fixed on Oakley. Waiting.
You told Mom and Aunt Reese you’d try. And Vanessa believes in you for some strange reason. Don’t punk out now.
He cleared his throat.
The military man sat up, nudging Annette and nodding toward Oakley. The movement drew the attention of everyone else in the room. Earbuds came out. They stared at him, expectantly.
“Hey, sorry to disturb you.” He drew in a deep, slow breath. His palms grew damp on the box. Why hadn’t he left it on the table or something? Fuck, this was awkward. “My name is Oakley Godstone—your new tour manager.” He frowned at the box, looking around for somewhere to put it. “I…I have to give you all this test, but we can wait until everyone’s here.”
Lips curving slightly, the military man eased off the bed, took the box, and set it down on the edge of the mattress. He held out his hand. “Balthazar Bornstein, head of security for Winter’s Wrath. Jesse, our tour manager, should be along shortly to show you the ropes. He just finished giving our band and all the crew the same test.”
“That’s good. Did everyone pass?” Should he be asking that? He wasn’t sure, but Balthazar would’ve mentioned if the tour was cancelled, right?
Balthazar nodded. “They did. We aren’t expecting any issues. This is simply a precaution to avoid any problems on the tour.”
“I see…” Oakley glanced over at North. “Then you’re all prepared for the test?”
North’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me like I wouldn’t be?”
“I’m not. I—”
“Bullshit.” North shoved off the loveseat, almost knocking Kace over before striding up to the bed and tearing open the box. “I’ll take the fucking test right now.”
“North, will you calm down.” Annette glared at the lead singer. “He’s doing his job. If you’ve got nothing to worry about, relax.”
Kace’s brilliant green eyes, framed with black eyeliner, were doubtful as he slid to the edge of the sofa. “I don’t know about you guys, but I smoked up a few times this summer. What if I fail?”
Finally, Oakley had something useful to offer. “THC isn’t being counted as failing the test. Cannabis is legal in Canada, and many of the places we’ll travel to. So long as you don’t overdo it, my aun—Reese has no issue with you consuming.”
“Didn’t you read the contract, Kace?” Annette gave the guitarist a fond smile when he ducked his head. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Connor just did one and he passed.”
“And I’m on all kinds of shit.” The man still laying on the bed, Connor Phelan, rhythm guitarist for Winter’s Wrath, folded his arms behind his head on the pillows. “So long as you’re not sniffing lines or popping unprescribed stuff, you’re good.”
Biting his full bottom lip, Kace nodded. But he still looked uncertain.
Expression softening, North returned to the loveseat, crouching down in front of the other man. “If I pass, you will too. I’ll go first, all right?”
“I just don’t want to screw this up for everyone. We’ve come so fucking far.”
“You won’t. I promise.”
After patting Kace’s knee, North straightened, grabbed a sample cup from the torn box, then disappeared into the bunk area.
Balthazar motioned to Oakley, who quickly grabbed the disposable gloves from the box and let the bodyguard lead the way back into the front area of the bus and taking a seat at the table. He nodded to Vanessa, who’d remained in the lounge, sitting on the sofa and going over files.
Oakley slid onto the bench across the table from Balthazar.
Folding his thick forearms on the table, Balthazar gave Oakley a bracing smile. “Nervous?”
“Is it that obvious?” Oakley tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling ridiculously overdressed. He’d figured a black dress shirt, grey vest, and black pants would be professional, and still fit with the vibe of the band, but everyone was in jeans and t-shirts.
He hated the idea of ditching his familiar style, but it would likely be one of the many things he’d have to change to fit in.
“ Very .” Balthazar gave Oakley’s hand a pointed look until he stopped fussing with his collar. Sitting back, the big bodyguard observed him for a moment. “XVI Hours had a tour manager in the past that screwed them over. Rather than managing their money, he was fleecing it. Convincing Annette and North to give someone else a chance took some work, but they trust Reese.”
“They have every reason to. She’s amazing at what she does.”
“I agree.” Balthazar’s head slanted to the side. “But you have doubts about your ability to meet her expectations.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Balthazar’s lips curved slightly. “That means you won’t be overconfident, you’ll put in more of an effort, and you’re willing to learn.” The bodyguard leaned forward. “There’ll be some adjustments, there are many strong personalities on this tour. And in this band. Get to know them. And let them get to know you.”
Oakley nodded slowly, fiddling with the collar of his shirt again. “Maybe a me that…” He laughed and motioned to all of himself. “Doesn’t clash quite so much.”
“Are you comfortable that way or did you dress to impress?”
“This is the style I like, but—”
“Then keep it. You’re not here to fit in with the band, you’re here to make your own place. If your aunt hasn’t advised you to change your appearance, don’t. It’s that simple.” Balthazar stood, glancing over as North came out from the bunk area with Kace close behind. “I’ll give you all some privacy and meet you in the studio in an hour.”
“An hour. Got it.” Oakley pulled on the gloves, thanking North and Kace as they handed over their cups. He turned, calling out before Balthazar started down the front steps of the bus. “And thank you.”
“Anytime, Oakley. I mean that.”
Those words stuck with Oakley as he checked the tests, bracing himself to repeat the awkward introductions as the last two members of the band came in. Which ended up not being necessary because Annette took over, making Oakley feel like he really didn’t need to be here.
She was trying to be nice and he appreciated the effort. Almost as much as he appreciated the support from both Vanessa and Balthazar.
Ignoring Oakley’s request for a quick band meeting, North strode off the bus without slowing. Which got the rest of the band looking at Oakley expectantly.
I’m going to need all the support I can get .