Chapter 6
6
Being Lainey’s best friend, I have been to my fair share of Ryder Brothers concerts. But usually we arrive shortly before the show starts and are in a private box away from the mayhem. That cannot be said today. Today we arrive hours before the show and are thrown straight into the gauntlet.
The moment our car pulls up at the arena in New Orleans, we and I are split up and ushered to our respective jobs. Lainey is sent to the wardrobe department while I am left to wander until I find my new boss, Shonda. After walking the length of the concourse, I finally stumble upon the merch area.
I’m greeted by the sight of a tiny blonde woman barking orders at a group of sweaty men as they unload boxes and set up tables.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt, in a soft voice. When no one acknowledges, me, I try louder.
Ponytail whipping around, Shonda appears shocked to see someone there. When she sees the lanyard around my neck, she asks, “You Ellie?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ew, no. We’re not doing that. I am not old enough to be a ma’am. Call me Shonda or Boss Lady like these schmoes. You ready to work?”
Damn. This woman is a force. I don’t think I’ve ever been this intimated and in awe at the same time. For such a small woman, she has a commanding aura. The ‘schmoes’ are all big guys who have a good thirty plus pounds on her. I need her to teach me her ways.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
“Great! You can start by unboxing anything marked ‘L.O.’ and ‘N.O. 1’ and stocking it into the wire cubbies the roadies have built. That is all the product left over from previous shows and what is allotted for today. Each style and size gets its own cubby. Smalls on the bottom. 3XL on the top. Got it?”
“Yes, ma—Boss Lady.”
She narrows her eyes at my almost slip before nodding and leaving me to my task.
Working diligently, I unload the boxes she mentioned and organize them as best I can. The system is easy to understand, but I’m not sure it is the most effective. I keep those thoughts to myself, though. Shonda has been doing this way longer than I have.
As I make it to the end of the shirts and get to hats and accessories, a badly tatted hand rests on the box I need to open. As my eyes trail up the arm it’s attached to, a cocky grin waits for me.
“Well hello there. I didn’t know we had a new girl helping out. What’s your name, beautiful?”
I hold in my eye roll at the come on and take the compliment. I get my share of male attention, but the men who usually hit on me are not quite this forward. Shifting my gaze up, I take in my new companion. The man in front of me is a mix of good ole boy and indie rocker with a hint of ‘my dad has money but I’m a rebel.’ He is far from the type that usually approaches me, but cute nonetheless. He must be one of the ‘schmoes’ Shonda spoke of.
“Hi, I’m Ellie.”
“Donny,” he replies, extending his hand to mine. He lets go after holding it a beat too long while he scans my body. The lick of his lips before he meets my gaze again tells me he appreciates what he sees. “You Boss Lady’s new lackey?”
“I guess. I’m here to help with merch for the rest of the tour.” I almost mention that Lainey and I came together, but I’d hate to rob her of her own introduction. She loves guys who are too cocky for their own good. The thicker they lay it on the more fun she has squashing their egos.
“Donny! The other merch stands aren’t going to put themselves together,” Shonda barks across the open air space from a similar set up.
“On my way,” he replies. Turning back to me he gives me one final once over. “See ya around, beautiful. Find me if you need anything.”
I barely manage not to laugh as he saunters away. That guy has peacock energy if I’ve ever seen it. Despite his attempts to hit on me, he seems fun. I’m sure Lainey will prefer partying with roadies over her brothers. It doesn’t hurt to make friends early.
As I pull out the first set of hats, I hear my name muffled.
“Ellie?” I glance around for the source, but there isn’t anyone around me.
“Ellie, do you copy?” The sound grows as I get closer to the table. When I shuffle the cloth around, I find a walkie-talkie buried under discarded packaging.
“Hello?” I question into it.
“Finally. I need you to take a hat to the dressing room. ”
“A hat?”
“Yeah, the new vintage rope hats. The black one. Wardrobe needs one for Jack. It’s a new item for this leg of the tour and they want him to showcase it during the concert. I need you to take it since you apparently have full access to all the dressing rooms. A fact we will definitely be discussing later,” Shonda says.
“Where are the dressing rooms? They sent me straight to you when I got here.”
“Go through the tunnel on the floor. Take the first hall on the right. The dressing rooms will be labeled.”
“I’m on it.”
Grabbing the hat Shonda mentioned, I head off on my mission. It only takes a few minutes of wandering to reach my destination. Knocking on the door, I release a tense breath when no one replies. Jack isn’t there. Thank God. I know seeing him around is inevitable, but I am not mentally prepared only hours after my arrival. I’m a sweaty mess after unloading all those boxes in a warm concourse. Not the impression I want to make, even if I know he sees me as a little sister. A girl has some pride.
I peek inside the space to ensure it is empty before stepping inside. Peering around my mouth waters when I see a basket of snacks. The grumble of my stomach reminds me I haven’t had anything except crappy airport coffee and a minuscule bag of pretzels. Flying makes me too nervous to eat before and I have been too busy since we got here to grab something.
Placing the hat on the coffee table, I sift through the snacks, squealing to myself when I see Zapp’s voodoo chips. These are my absolute favorite and are getting harder and harder to find. It makes sense they have them here in NOLA, though. Snagging the bag, I tear it open and moan as the sweet and tangy flavor with the perfect amount of spice explodes on my taste buds.
“While this isn’t the first time I’ve had a girl moaning in my dressing room, it is the first time I wasn’t the cause. ”
Letting out a gasp, I drop my treat and chips cover the ugly grey carpet. I momentarily consider putting them back into the bag, but I’m not sure I’m ready for Jack to see me that low. I almost want to cry at the loss of them. RIP my dinner.
I swing my gaze up to him to complain about the loss of my beloved snack. The words die in my throat when I see he's standing there wrapped only in a towel as water drips from his hair down his ripped torso.
How on earth does he stay in such great shape while traveling? I got a glimpse of those strong biceps when I saw him in Nashville, but I was not prepared for Jack Ryder to have abs. It is truly unfair for him to be both an amazing musician and have the body of a professional athlete. How are mere mortals supposed to compete?
Watching as a droplet trails down his obliques, all I can think of is how much I want to chase it with my tongue. Almost as much as I want to explore the tattoos that trail from his shoulder to his left wrist. The blood in my veins heats at the idea.
The sound of him clearing his throat rips me out of my thoughts and draws my attention back to him. The smirk on his face tells me he caught my perusal and I flush hotter with embarrassment.
“You’re not supposed to be in here!” I stammer.
He glances around as if to confirm his surroundings. “I’m not supposed to be in my own dressing room? I’m pretty sure of the two of us, I am the most supposed to be in here.”
“I-no one answered when I knocked.”
“Ah, so you thought you’d be able to steal my chips without an audience?”
“I didn’t come in here to steal your chips,” I protest, even though I did technically do that. Something about the glint in his eye has me unwilling to concede to that fact out loud, though .
“Why did you come in here then, Wildflower?”
My heart hammers at the nickname. The endearment reminds me of simpler times when I didn’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders or expectations I set for myself. A time when hearing his voice would cause butterflies to erupt in my stomach. Much like I am pretending they aren’t right now.
Lainey’s brother. Lainey’s brother. Lainey’s brother. I repeat in my head as I scramble for something to say. Jack watches me expectantly.
“I brought you a hat,” I eventually reply, lamely pointing to the coffee table before wringing my hands together.
Sauntering past, he leans behind me, close enough that the heat from his shower radiating off his skin warms me. How much better would it be against my skin instead of through fabric? Bad Ellie! No more thoughts about him or all the sexy skin he’s displaying.
“This hat?”
I nod.
“I gotta say, Ellie, giving me a hat with my own band name on it is a lame present.”
His familiar teasing takes some of the tension away from the moment and for that I am grateful. “It’s not a present. Wardrobe asked us to drop it off. They want you to wear it tonight to entice people to buy it.”
“That’s a shame,” he muses. “I might have been willing to trade you my other bag of voodoo chips for it. Guess all that salty goodness will remain with me.”
“There are more?” Whipping around, I rake my gaze through the basket and spot more under some red vines. My stomach grumbles again, causing me to blush for the second time in this conversation.
Jack laughs, reaching into the basket to pull out both the chips and candy, handing them over to me. “Sounds like you need these more than I do. Make sure you grab real food before the show, though. I’d hate to have you passing out on your first night.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, pressing my bounty to my chest. “I’ll, uh, let you get dressed. Sorry about all this. I really did think the room was empty.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve seen me in a towel plenty of times by the pool. You’re not the first girl to see me post-shower and won’t be the last. Plus, my parents would kill me if I let their ‘Ellie girl’ starve.”
“I appreciate your dedication to your parents' wishes and will happily accept it in the form of my favorite chips. Good luck tonight.”
“Since you’re manning the merch tables, you may need luck more than me. Fans can be feral. Stay safe out there.”
The reminder that he’s concerned about me out of obligation is the reminder I need to douse the last tendrils of lust pulsing through me. I’m his sister’s friend, his pseudo-family member, and nothing else. If I could just get my body to get back on board with that.
Waving goodbye, I make my way slowly back to the concourse, savoring my snacks as I try to brush off our interaction. The further away I get from his dressing room, the more I realize this would be harder than I anticipated.
When out of sight, I can forget the way being near Jack causes my body to react. In person, with his flirty charm directed my way? Not so much. Even though he acts this way with everyone, my inner teenager laps up the attention every time.