Chapter 7
(Rebel)
“So, what’s it going to be tonight, after-party, or are you sneaking off somewhere with your favorite guard?” Johnny asked, slinging a sweaty arm around my shoulder, not that I wasn’t a hot mess too.
We’d just finished an outdoor set in the blazing heat, tripping over water bottles after we’d chugged the hell out of the contents, and I could still use another one, especially with a hot body draped all over me.
“Not my favorite,” I complained, brushing him and his damn powers of observation off me so I could grab another cold bottle of water from catering.
Johnny being Johnny, he just followed me over to the table and snagged a couple of bottles for himself; one he dumped over his head before shaking his damned hair everywhere like an oversized puppy.
“I was already planning on a shower, thanks,” I grumbled, wishing for the t-shirt I’d been wearing at the start of the set so I could wipe my face.
I’d tossed it into the crowd three songs in, the moment I’d started growing overheated, and seriously considered stripping off my denim shorts too and playing in just my boxers.
My guitar would have covered any bits that happened to fall out, though if anything had slipped and wound up on social media, Draven would have had my head.
That was the only thing that held me back, well, and my tendency to stage dive with Johnny while Ozzy was playing one of his infamous drum solos.
“Seriously though, are you coming to the after-party tonight?” Johnny persisted.
“I’m shocked you’re going,” I replied, still deflecting, because now that he’d mentioned my favorite guard, I realized I’d maybe been a bit too obvious when I’d sought him out after shows.
Would it stop me from seeking him out again? Hell no. But I’d certainly be more circumspect about it.
“Draven said there are supposed to be a few DJs there that he wants us to chat with in the hopes they’ll want to have us on for an interview,” Johnny explained. “Between the two of us, I figure we can share just enough behind-the-scenes tidbits to snag their attention.”
“Or you could just show them the video of you dangling upside down from the rigging with your pants around your ankles, still singing for the fans,” I pointed out. “That should be good for an invite or two.”
“There was nothing else I could do but sing in that situation,” Johnny growled, “and fuck you all very much for not erasing that video.”
“Hey, I did erase it,” I protested. “From my phone. You never said anything about the cloud or any other digital storage places.”
“I hate you so hard right now,” Johnny grumbled.
“Good, maybe you’ll stop bugging me about the after-party."
“Hey, if you don’t want to go, just say so, and I’ll go pester Dash,” Johnny said. “But it’s always more fun when you and I work a room.”
“It used to be,” I said. “Before Draven claimed that ass and turned Johnny Fuckin’ Amaral into Johnny ‘don’t fuckin’ touch me’ Amaral.”
“Nothing saying they can’t look and admire from afar,” Johnny pointed out. “Besides, that just leaves more of the action for you.”
“Thanks for that, seriously, but I’m not sure I’m in the mood tonight,” I admitted, still conflicted, because my first thought when I’d come down off that stage was to go find Steel and see if room service and a ride on his cock were in the cards for me tonight.
“Okay, spill. What's been going on with you lately?” Johnny said. “I’ve never known you to turn down three after-parties in a row.”
“I just haven’t been in the mood to be fawned over and have people try to get me to pick them up,” I admitted.
Johnny fanned himself with his wet hair and studied me with a shrewdness most people didn’t realize he possessed.
I liked to think of it as his superpower, because people rarely looked past the seductive allure of his packaging to see the verbose man behind many of our most successful songs.
Hell, I’d witnessed people speaking patronizingly to him, spitting out ten-dollar words I knew they didn’t think he’d understand, only to be absolutely shredded when he flipped the script on them by eloquently telling them off, and at times, correcting their usage of a term.
The hilarity of it alone, along with the possibility of it happening again tonight, was almost enough to get me to change my mind about going to the after-party.
Almost.
“You want to be the one being picked up by someone, not the other way around,” Johnny said after he’d studied me so long I began to squirm beneath his scrutiny.
Grumbling, I decided to skip the sandwiches and opt out of the rest of this conversation by shrugging and turning to head for the shower. Instead, I found my wrist ensnared in a tight grip as Johnny stared up at me.
“So what?” I snapped. “It never happens, and I’m not in the mood to spend half the night turning down offers that are just gonna leave me horny and frustrated by the time I get the hell out of there.”
“You know you don’t have to hide that from me, right?” Johnny asked. “You don’t have to hide that from any of us. No one is going to judge you for what you enjoy.”
I started to say that I wasn’t worried about being judged, only I didn’t lie to my bandmates, and that would be a lie. I did worry about what other people would think if they saw me staring starry-eyed at some massive wall of muscle I knew could manhandle me.
Like Steel had every night we’d been together.
Dammit, my mind was constantly on the man these days. Hell, I’d even written a song about that moment of longing I’d had in the hotel bar and how he’d come along and turned wishes and desires into one of the hottest nights of my life.
“I’m gonna grab a shower and get the fuck out of here,” I declared, tugging until Johnny finally got the hint and let go of my wrist.
“Yeah, okay. You know where to find me if you ever want to talk,” Johnny said, “or just slam back a couple to blow off steam.”
“I might take you up on that last one.”
“Anytime.”
I scurried away while the getting was good, happy to step beneath the hot spray and wash the sweat and grime from my body.
By the time I was dry and dressed, with my hair tucked beneath the hood of my hoodie, I no longer questioned my decision not to go to the after-party.
There was only one place I wanted to go tonight, and that was back to my hotel room.
And I didn’t intend to head there alone.
Finding Steel among the cluttered backstage area was easier than I expected. He was posted outside Jagger’s hotel room and judging from the sounds drifting from behind the door, Jagger and his men were going to be busy for quite a while.
“Why are you wandering around alone?” Steel asked when he saw that none of the other guards were with me.
“I’m not alone; I’m with you,” I pointed out, going for an equal mix of sassy and flirty.
“Only I’m not assigned to you, and right now, I’m on duty,” Steel declared. “Which means that I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you’re cooking up in your head.”
I just winked and cocked my hip, grinning up at him. “You like my shenanigans.”
“At the appropriate time and place, yes, I do. But not at times like this when you’re distracting me from what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Dude, no one is coming out of that room anytime soon.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not just posted here waiting for someone to exit, as you well know,” Steel declared.
“The last thing anyone needs is some overzealous groupie sneaking in and trying to get in on the action going on in there, or worse, taking pictures and spreading them all over social media, so get moving. I’ve got a job to do. ”
“You really need to learn to relax a little!” I snapped.
“And you need to learn to take things more seriously,” he replied, lowering his shades so there was no chance of me missing the look of displeasure in his eyes.
“I’d better not hear about you slipping away from here without a guard tonight, either.
I’m already pissed to see you wandering around alone. ”
“No one’s so much as run up on me looking for an autograph,” I said, because with my hoodie pulled low, hiding my wild mane and a good chunk of my face, I moved undetected through the space, easily mistaken for one of our roadies.
“Maybe not, but wearing that hoodie that way isn’t safe, especially not when you’re walking around with your head down.”
“Dude, I’m not going to slam into anything; I can see just fine.”
“Really,” he said, then his hand shot out so fast I couldn’t track it, and when I tried to turn my head to see what he was doing, all I saw was cloth and a glimmer of the tattoo on his arm before everything went completely dark.
The fucker had tugged the hood down so much I was blinded by the material, trapped in it really, as he’d gripped the material covering my shoulder, pinning the hood to it with a hold so solid that batting at his hand did nothing to free me.
“My point exactly,” Steel said as he finally let go. “Now get back where you're supposed to be and find whoever the fuck is supposed to be glued to your side tonight.”
“I was hoping that would be you.”
“You’re not my principal; now I’m not going to tell you again to get moving,” he snapped. “And just so you know, …"
“Yeah, yeah, you will be reporting this to Sully, just like the whole bar incident that wasn’t an incident until you made it one,” I said, feeling a bit shredded by his refusal to flirt back, even a little. “What time do you get off?”
“Late enough that the only thing I’ll be in the mood for is sleep,” Steel snapped. “Now get your ass in gear.”
“Fine, I’m going! You didn’t have to be a dick about it,” I snarled as I turned to walk away.
“Neither did you. I told you the rules from the jump. I should have known you’d never be able to follow them. This, whatever it is, between us. I don’t think it’s going to work. I have a job to do, and so do you, so this might need to be the end of things.”
Flinching, eyes stinging, I stormed away with my hands shoved in the pocket of my hoodie rather than spitting poisonous words at him the way I wanted to do.
What held me back was that I truly, genuinely had caught feelings for him.
Worse than that, perhaps, was that I didn’t think my words would wound him at all.
He clearly didn’t care that he’d just stomped all over my feelings and made me feel like shit for wanting to spend the evening with him instead of going to that damned afterparty.
And I couldn’t go now, because I’d pretty much let slip to Johnny what my plans for the night would be, or at least, what I’d hoped they would be, only to have that blow up in my face spectacularly.
And he’d know.
He always knew.
I had a shit poker face, and he was too damned perceptive, so it looked like I was headed back to the hotel alone.
Since I was already going to be reported to Sully for not sticking to my bodyguard’s side, I decided to just toss the whole night in the fuck-it bucket and slip out the rear door where our roadies were busy loading gear back into the semi.
Sucking on my vape, I marched my ass over to the black SUV Sully leaned against as he shrewdly kept watch over the activity going on.
His eyes narrowed when he spotted me stalking towards him alone.
I was close enough to hear him bark Cyril’s name into the walkie he yanked from his belt, followed by an ass chewing I knew I’d receive my fair share of as soon as he was done ordering Cyril out to the parking lot.
“I’m not going to the afterparty,” I declared as soon as he was done on the walkie. “Can Cyril just drive me back to the hotel, where I swear I’ll stay until whenever the hell we have to be at the meet and greet tomorrow."
“Like you swore the last time that you wouldn’t go wandering off somewhere?” He snapped. “Na, you deal with me tonight. Get in.”
I doubted that was all he’d have to say before we got back there, so I hopped in the back, buckled my seatbelt, and watched through the windshield as he gave Cyril his new assignment.
It wasn’t a good feeling to know I’d just fucked up someone else’s night along with my own, but maybe, just maybe, I could salvage some shred of it and channel the crushing defeat I felt into something positive.
Like a song.