45. Jackson
45
jackson
It’s after the show, and Brian insisted on buying us all drinks. He’s in rare form tonight. He keeps smiling and throwing his arm around anyone’s shoulder who will let him—he even kissed Dave on the cheek at one point. Usually, Brian sits in the corner, wears his suits, and makes sure none of us get too out of line. Tonight, he’s a different man, and I can’t figure out what the hell he’s celebrating.
Sure, we had a great set, but we do most nights. The place was sold out, but that’s not new either. Everything about tonight’s show holds up to how our shows have gone for most of the tour. The only thing different is the fact that it was Brian who suggested we hit the bar down the street and not Marty.
It’s a nice place—definitely nicer than any bar I would have walked into on my own. The guys seem to feel right at home, but I’m just pissed no one asked to see my fake now that I finally have one. Maybe we’re starting to be well-known enough for them to not want to risk turning us away. If we all left, I have a feeling most of the people here would do the same. The bar probably figures letting me drink is worth the risk at this point .
I’m still standing at the bar, watching Brian live like a king in a booth toward the back, when Mya brushes past me. Catching her by the elbow, I pull her closer so she can hear me over the music. “What the hell is up with your uncle tonight?”
She looks over her shoulder to spot Brian before she looks back at me. “He’s having fun.” Placing both hands on my chest, she adds, “Maybe you should try it.” She gives me another playful pout as a dismissal before sliding up to the bar next to me and ordering her next drink.
She’s right. I probably shouldn’t be unsettled by it. Maybe Brian’s just excited that so much of the tour has gone well so far. He’s entitled to enjoy a night out as much as the rest of us. Hell, he may have earned it the most out of all of us.
Grabbing my whiskey from the bar, I head toward the back where most of the band sits with our suspiciously happy manager. Marty is the only one missing, but that’s nothing new. I don’t even have to look for him to know he’s finding the next girl willing to fuck in the bathroom.
When I approach the table, the three guys cheer. It only takes a second for me to spot the array of shot glasses in front of each of them.
Sliding into the booth, I nod to the mess of scattered glasses on the table. “You know it’s not a race, right?”
“You want one?” Brian sits up straight like he’s ready to flag someone down and order more.
Lifting my cup, I shake my head. “I’m all right.”
Brady eyes my whiskey. “Did they card you?”
“Nope.” I set down my glass. “Fucking waste.”
Dave’s laugh still manages to carry throughout the bar. “Aw, don’t let it get you down. I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to use your fake.”
Brian studies me as I take a sip of my drink, and I pause. “What? ”
“You’re too sober.” Looking at the other two guys, he reiterates. “He’s too sober.”
Brady laughs as Brian’s hand shoots into the air, signaling to someone he’d like another round.
I smile. “Someone should keep an eye on us now that you’ve loosened your tie.”
Mya slides into the booth next to me. “Damn, this place is packed.”
“Hey, Mya, want to make sure no one fucks up tonight?” Brian yells across the table over the music.
Mya’s eyes narrow. “You mean do your job?” She holds his stare as she brings her drink to her lips. “No.”
Dave snorts a laugh. “If you think about it, the only one who might need watching is Marty.” He points to me first. “He’s head over heels for Margot, I’m trying to get back in Lynn’s good graces, and Brady will probably propose as soon as this tour is done.” He shakes his head. “I can guarantee you that pissing off any of those women is ten times more terrifying than the threat of bad press.”
Brady lifts his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”
Dave gives Brian a knowing look that has him cursing under his breath. “Let me go find that horny son of a bitch.”
Brady steps aside to make room, and a tall brunette sets four shots on the table. Before he leaves, Brian points to the shots and then points at me. “Three of those are for you.” Grabbing the fourth, he mutters, “I’m taking this one.”
“You do that.” I toss the first shot back, and grimace. “Tequila?” I shake it off before downing the second. “Gross.”
Mya reaches past me to pick up the third. “Then you won’t mind if I take this one.” She downs it like a machine, but quickly chases it with whatever pink drink she’s sipping through a straw.
By the time Brian comes back after finding Marty, I’ve somehow let Dave talk me into taking another shot, Mya left us and is now flirting with some girl at the bar, and Brady has been talking to any fan who stops by the table. The way he can talk to people he doesn’t know might be even more impressive while he’s buzzed.
I’ve just been drinking.
Well, that, and I texted Margot to let her know I’m thinking of her. I’m always fucking thinking of her.
“Well, I think he’ll keep his dick in his pants until he’s in private,” Brian says with a huff as he collapses in the booth. You’d think the guy had just run a marathon hunting down our bass player.
“Did you tell him public bathrooms aren’t private?” I ask as I take another sip of my drink.
Brian stares at me. “Do I need to?”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt considering his track record.”
I figured everyone knew about Marty’s quickies, but based on the way Brian lets out a sigh and says, “Goddamn it,” I guess I was wrong.
When he goes to get up again, I motion for Brian to sit back down. “Let him have his fun. It’s not like we’re at the venue.” It feels weird to defend Marty, but I don’t want to be the reason he gets scolded.
Brian considers my point before fully sitting again. “I guess that’s fair.”
Dave leans in closer to me. “We’ll just leave out the fact that he told a few of the staff from the venue to join us here.”
I shake my head and take another sip. “Of course he did.”
When I’m brought another whiskey, I start to sip slower. I’m feeling it, and the last thing I need is for someone to get a kick out of me stumbling.
Someone jumps into the booth next to me, and I look up to find Mya peering at me innocently as she rests her elbows on the table.
“How are you feeling? Drunk? Happy? Agreeable? ”
My eyes narrow. “Why?”
Taking in a deep breath, she casually turns one of the empty shot glasses on the table in front of her. “There may be a girl at the bar who loves the band, and she may have asked me to introduce you.”
I look over my shoulder to find the girl at the bar already staring at me. I lift my drink to her before turning back to Mya. “I thought you were flirting with her.”
“Oh, I was. I’m hoping this will score me some points. Help a girl out.”
I let out a breath of laughter. “I’ll do my best.”
Mya pats me on the shoulder like I’ve passed some type of test. “Try not to scare her away before I get back from the bathroom.” She gets out of the booth, and I follow her lead.
“Better be quick.” Meeting fans is fun, but I usually like when we do it as a group. I’m not like Brady. I can’t make small talk the way he can.
By the time I get to my feet, Mya has already disappeared. The girl at the bar has long, blonde hair, and she’s wearing a black leather jacket. She’s pretty, and there’s an edge to her that makes it clear why she’d be Mya’s type. Gesturing toward the drink in her hand, I say, “That looks a lot like whiskey.”
She smiles and brings the glass to her lips. “Bourbon.”
“Good for you.” The only other girl I’ve known to drink dark liquor is Margot. She only did it at that house party we went to, and she might have only done it to spite me at the time, but I swear the whiskey somehow tasted sweeter knowing her lips had touched the bottle before mine.
She nods, looking pleased with herself before taking another sip. “Thanks for coming over here and meeting me. I’ve been a huge fan for a while. I actually came to the show tonight to see you guys more than Crooner Sins.”
It isn’t the first time someone told me something similar, but it still surprises me when I hear it. Crooner Sins feels lightyears ahead of us, but maybe it’s just because I didn’t join the band that long ago. To me, the work still feels the same. The cities and venues are different, the crowds are bigger, but we’re still the same group of guys playing the same songs each night. Half the time we aren’t even aware of people discovering our music until moments like this when we’re blind-sided by someone knowing who we are or knowing the words to one of our songs. “Yeah?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up. “That means a lot. Thanks.”
The girl holds out her hand. “Tarah.”
“Jackson.”
When I shake her hand, she gives me a funny look. “I know.”
I crack a smile and take another sip of my drink. “Right.” Looking around her, I ask, “Did you come to the show alone?”
She shakes her head. “No. My friends are around here somewhere. But can I tell you something?” She wraps her fingers around my bicep, her thumb grazing over my skin. Leaning in close, she playfully whispers in my ear, “I’m kind of glad they wandered off.”
“Annoyed with them already?”
She cocks an eyebrow, and amusement flickers in her features. “No . . . I’m glad they aren’t here so I can talk to you alone.”
Red warning flags slowly raise in the back of my mind, and I look over my shoulder to see if Mya is coming back from the bathroom yet, but she’s nowhere in sight. Looking back at the girl, I say, “Weren’t you hitting it off with Mya? She’s great.” I sound fucking stupid, but I have no idea what else to say.
Her lips lift. “She is great, but I just met her tonight. I’ve had my eye on you for a very long time.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s uh . . . bold.” What the hell do I say to that? I’ve had fans flirt with me, but there was always some type of barrier. There was always a barricade, or a merch table. Hell, even Mya can be a great diversion when I need her.
I go to take another sip of my drink, but Tarah takes it from my hand and sets it on the bar behind me. She lets out a light laugh. “That’s not bold.” Her hands run from my chest to my abs. “But I can be.” She hooks her fingers into the front of my jeans and leans into me. “Say the word, and I’ll show you bold.”