Chapter 10
Jodi Castle
Present
Paul, rightly or wrongly, insisted everything would seem better after breakfast—unlikely—thus he waltzed her onto the Black Halo tour bus, when what she really wanted to do was crawl into her tent alongside the cats and sob into a pillow.
At least on his bus, she could tidy herself up a little before she faced Nash, and maybe…
maybe, she wouldn’t have to make a big deal out of it, if, once he had some food inside him, Rock Giant became more amenable to the notion of sweeping the whole nonsense under a bush.
They had, after all, both been off their heads.
Plus, all they’d actually done was agreed to some shit she couldn’t even remember.
Well, except for the forever part. She distinctly recalled that part.
In fact, it kept echoing around her head in a particularly nettlesome way.
She must have been looking him in the eyes during that part, too, because the memory came complete with a vision of his pretty hazel eyes and blissful grin.
A kitchenette occupied the space directly behind the driver’s berth, complete with a diner-style table and padded bench seats.
“Who’s this?” A guy with floppy brown hair looked up and asked.
“My wife, so keep your sticky mitts off.”
“Your what?” The guy continued to scratch at his morning stubble.
“Wife,” Paul replied. “I got married. Oops, sorry, forgot to invite you.”
His band mate’s—she assumed—interest morphed from one of bored amusement to full-on scrutiny.
“Yo, guys. Rock Giant’s hitched,” he called, prompting other figures to creep out of various crevices.
Two sets of booted footsteps hurtled down the stairs that emerged just behind the dining area.
A waif-like woman in fishnet tights and a band tee came out of the back room and perched on the worktop, while an ogre uncoiled from the driver’s seat and leered at her as if he was eyeing her up as his next lunch.
“You got married?” The question came from one of the two men who’d come downstairs. He peered at her intently, like some prince of darkness inspecting the latest offering left at his altar.
“Yep.”
“No. We’re not married. It was a handfasting.”
“Same thing,” Rock Giant muttered.
“It’s not. It isn’t legally—” She’d meant to say it was merely a ceremonial union, not legally binding or recognised, but based on the looks the guys and girls were now giving them, that didn’t seem to matter. To them, to Paul, they were official.
Shit! This was going to require far more explaining, now, than when it’d simply been a matter for her and Rock Giant to work out.
“Congratulations.” A guy she’d not noticed yet pushed his way forwards.
Long blond hair fanned around his shoulders, and a wealth of leather bangles covered his forearms. He offered her a hand, then pulled her into an embrace.
“Welcome to the lunatic asylum. Hope you realise what you’re letting yourself in for… ”
“Jodi,” she supplied, realising he was waiting for a name.
“Jodi,” he repeated as he looked her over again. Some sort of illumination seemed to strike him as sparks lit inside the hearts of his eyes. “Of course.”
Of course, what? She didn’t get a chance to ask as various people swaddled her in hugs and spat names at her, among them an Ash, and a Spook, and a Troll.
A nickname she hoped. Also, a Mrs Ash, and the prince of darkness, whose name she didn’t catch but maybe started with Z, and a guy with strikingly different coloured eyes called Luthor.
“I thought you were hanging with Ronnie last night,” said the latter.
“Hanging,” said the ogre-troll, “I thought Ron was slurping his giant.”
“Where is Ronnie?”
“Still in bed,” Mrs Ash said.
There were so many of them cracking jokes and making remarks she couldn’t keep up with it all. Paul removed a guitar pick from her hand then laced their fingers again.
“So, how’d this come about?”
The prince of darkness seemed to be their leader. “You ditched Ronnie and found yourself a lady friend…”
“Careful,” Rock Giant cautioned.
“I’m just pointing out that you weren’t betrothed at the start of the night. What did you do, make a pact with some old-world deity?”
“I suspect mushrooms were involved.” A red-haired woman entered. She lifted her hands in a shrug when Paul glared at her. “Soz, Ronnie told me.”
“Blabbermouth strikes again,” Ash remarked.
“Mushrooms! As in ’shrooms!” Evidently, the Prince of Darkness didn’t approve. “Are you fucking kidding me? You got married because you were tripping your bollocks off. What happened to being mister clean living, huh?”
“Fuck off, Xane. Besides, fungi are the natural bounty of Mother Nature. And don’t fucking lecture. It’s not like you’ve never partaken of anything. We’ve all been naughty a time or two on tour.”
“Naughty?” Xane blurted. “Mate, shagging isn’t illegal. ’shrooms definitely are.”
Now instead of smiles, everyone was giving them serious stink-eye.
The bus’s axle groaned as a large man entered behind them as if summoned by the spectre of trouble. He had on a suit, though it appeared to be wearing him rather than the other way around, and his bulk instantly made the bus seem narrower. “What’s illegal?”
“The bogs in this place,” Ash replied without blinking, proving that when it mattered these guys had one another’s backs.
“That is true,” the new arrival said. He noticed her and gave her a quick up and down glance, before returning his attention to the band. “Useful to find you all up and gathered. Saves a summoning. You know I only like to say things once.”
Yet another figure stumbled in from the back, this one in llama pyjamas and blinking sleepily.
“What’s all the noise, guys? It’s like two hours until rise and shine time.
Oh, hi, Graham.” He gave the suit a nod, then attempted to open a cupboard, prompting three of the guys to duck their heads.
Having retrieved a packet of custard creams, he set about laying waste to them.
Jodi’s stomach rumbled. She’d been promised breakfast. If she’d realised it’d involve meeting forty-three people; she’d have given it a hard pass.
Mrs Ash leaned into the biscuit-crunching new arrival, and hand over her mouth whispered, “Rock Giant got hitched while tripping his bollocks off last night. Thought you were taking care of him.”
Graham either didn’t hear her or pretended he didn’t hear her.
Ronnie’s sleepy eyes widened. “Um…well, yeah, I was… I did… we got parted.” He squinted at Jodi, evidently realising she was an unknown, then at her and Rock Giant’s clasped hands. “Wait, did you say hitched? Like married, hitched?”
“Who’s hitched?” Graham turned his head in a two-seventy-degree arc to laser each of them with his glare.
“Yeah, I know about you,” he said on reaching Ash, before bouncing his gaze back to Spook, who shook his head, and then Xane and Luthor.
The former of whom rolled his eyes, while the latter pressed his knuckles to his mouth, which barely contained his mirth.
He didn’t even give Rock Giant a glance.
“Obviously not you,” he said to Ronnie. “Given that like usual you’re the one running their mouth. Pfft, you’re not my problem, anyway.”
“I did,” Paul confessed.
“He got handfasted, last night,” Spook elaborated. “Plighted his troth to this lovely lady here.” That drew all the attention back to her, right when she’d been contemplating a swift exit down the steps.
“And you are?” Graham asked.
Rock Giant stepped between her and their manager. “My lucky bride, that’s who. She’s not your concern. You’re in charge of band management, not our private lives. Being hitched doesn’t affect my ability to play bass. Therefore, not your problem.”
Their manager grunted, then pulled out an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose into it. “Allergies.” He stuffed the soiled cloth into a pocket. “Do I at least get an introduction.”
“Sure.” Scary how lit up it made him to show her off. “Jodi, this is our manager, Graham Callahan. Graham, this is my wife, Jodi.”
“Congratulations, Julie, was it? I suppose I’m going to have to look into getting you lot a bigger bus.”
“We’re fine, Graham.” Xane stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder.
“There’s still an excess of bunks. There’s only nine…
ten of us when we’re all here, and not all the ladies want to ride along with us all the time.
Now, why don’t you tell us why you’re here, then Ronnie can get back to his beauty sleep. ”
“Oh, no, I don’t need to sleep anymore. I want to hear about everything.”
Curiously, she wasn’t the only one who groaned in response.
“Yeah, right, it’s nothing major, just been asked to ask you all to keep a look out. Seems your new support act has mislaid someone,” Graham said.
“Someone,” Xane echoed. “One of the band? You promised us some decent support who weren’t going to cause havoc. That’s not a good sign if they’ve lost a member.”
“Singer’s fiancée. Not one of the band.”
Xane’s gaze flicked to her then back to Graham.
“Probably just got sick of the bugger or got wasted and is sleeping it off under a bush.”
Jodi’s cheeks burned. She’d have protested the description of herself, if it didn’t ring a little too true.
She had spent the night under a bush sleeping off the aftereffects of doing something dumb, and now on top of that, Nash was worried enough to have organised a manhunt for her.
He must have checked her tent and realised she wasn’t there. Hopefully, he’d at least fed the cats.
“Description?” Spook asked.
“Female…”
That was apparently it. She was missing, and the best description out there of her was female. Great going, Nash. Graham gave a semi-apologetic shrug, which caused his shoulders to collide with various storage cupboards.