Chapter 24 – Kincaid #2
As much as I want to stay plastered to Lumen’s ass, it’s already noon. We’re supposed to be at the venue before three to tour the accommodations, then hit our sound check.
I force myself out of bed and head over to the room Riser, Malcolm, and I are sharing. It’s where we dropped all our shit, anyway.
Who knows if Lumen will feel inclined to let us sleep cuddled up to her tonight.
I take a quick shower, get dressed, and head out to get everyone else up.
Only, I walk out of the bedroom to find Parish and Tennyson glaring at one another. There’s a woman in a long T-shirt and nothing else standing behind Parish. Based on the way her arms are crossed, and the horror written all over her face, I’m going to guess she would rather be anywhere but here.
My head bounces between them, causing a painful thump in my temples. I’m never at a hundred percent the day after partying like we did last night, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t pass out until after six in the morning.
I creepily held my head on my palm, curled around Lumen, and watched her like a total psychopath.
Or a lovestruck fool.
Neither of which I am.
“Did you fuck Wren?” Tennyson asks, jabbing a finger around Parish to point at the woman.
Huh, I wonder if he thinks Parish doesn’t know her name. That wouldn’t be shocking under other circumstances, but she hung out last night and slept here.
Ten’s jaw clenches to the point it becomes a real possibility that he’ll crack a tooth.
“No, dude.” Parish shakes his head, making his long black hair fall around his shoulders.
“Not that it would be your business if I did. The couch and chairs were taken. I offered her my bed, but then I realized I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep, so we shared.
If I would have known that you were going to pass out in the living room, I would have slept in your bed. ”
“Right,” Ten says, shoving his messy blondish-brown curls back from his face. He leans around Parish, gesturing to the living room. “You’re fine with this, Rhys?”
The man in question sits on the floor in front of the coffee table, rolling a blunt.
“Eh, you know how I feel. She’s my sister, not my kid.
She’s an adult. I don’t parent her. She doesn’t try to parent me.
That’s how we keep our friendship intact.
Goddamn, I swear, you two never stop bickering.
” His thumbs shove at the bottom seam of the blunt, and he rolls it, gesturing at Tennyson with his pointer fingers.
“Just remember, you owe me, and you promised.”
“What?” Tennyson asks, a look of pure bewilderment crossing his face.
“Yeah, man.” Rhys nods, pulling the blunt to his mouth and licking the seam. “I’ve got some shit to clean up, and you gave me your word.”
“I was high off my ass,” Tennyson says. “Anything I agreed to doesn’t count, you shady fucker.”
“Too bad. You promised you’d keep an eye on her for me.” Rhys shrugs. “Don’t owe people favors if you don’t want to have to pay them back.”
If Ten was going to drag some poor woman along with us on tour, he really should have cleared it with the rest of us. Then again, I definitely didn’t ask how he or Parish felt about us bringing Lumen onto the bus, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I can look out for myself,” Wren says with a huff as she taps her foot against the carpet.
“We have six bunks,” Parish chimes in, reaching back to grab the woman’s hand. “It’s not a problem.”
Ten’s face reddens, and it looks like he’s about three seconds from having the top of his head pop off. “I’m going to beat you to death with my bare hands.”
On that note, I leave them to battle that out among themselves.
The main stage in Columbia is fucking sick. We do our sound check on it. Afterward, Benji and the venue coordinator show us to our greenroom. It sucks not having the buses around, meaning we have nowhere to run off to for a nap or even just to chill and eat.
During my entire post-practice shower, I wonder what we should do to kill time. The doors open at nine, and we have to be back here at seven-thirty for other pre-show shit we have to do.
We could take Lumen out for dinner or shopping. She could grab some clothes and souvenirs.
Once I’m out of the shower, I get myself into my jeans and take the connected hallway back toward the greenroom. When I’m almost to the end, my head tilts, and I stop in my tracks.
Mal tried to get me to listen to her perform that day in the practice room in… I don’t even remember what city. I was more worried about convincing him not to go after another musician’s girlfriend.
Goddammit.
She’s good.
More than good.
Incredible.
She has this low, raspy, breathy grit to her voice that makes female musicians into superstars.
Mal wasn’t exaggerating. She would need voice lessons, but she could be trying to get her own contract within a year.
More than that, I want to hear the rest of that song she’s working on.
Did she write that for Tangled Desires?
Where did it come from, and how do I get her to let me play while she runs through it again?
I’m just pulling on my shirt when the door to the greenroom opens.
I peek around the corner as I zip my jeans and move to buckle my belt.
It’s Grant—Tangled Desires’ manager.
My metaphorical hackles rise.
Why the fuck is he in our greenroom, and why does he set Lumen on edge?
I suppose he could be trying to play the middleman between Theo and Lumen.
“Ms. Fields, if I could have a moment of your time?” Grant says. “I promise it won’t take more than a few minutes.”
I frown as she closes her notebook, stands, and follows him out the door without coming to give any of us a heads-up about where she’s going.
If I’d come into the greenroom to find her missing, I would have freaked the fuck out.
I got a generic copy of the NDA she signed regarding Liminal.
Benji gave it to me earlier, but I haven’t had the chance to read it over.
It’s not like I’m a lawyer.
I’ve just read a shitload of contracts over the years.
I also have an excellent attorney on retainer.
Is Grant trying to get her to sign something so she can’t talk about Tangled Desires?
I’d better follow them just to be safe.