24
There's a hell of a lot of freedom in this rock and roll circus ... it's where the freaks go.—Brian Molko
It could have been any conference room at any major venue—industrial beige carpeting, florescent lights, neutral-colored walls, and beverages to keep everyone hydrated.
Except the beverages were mostly alcoholic in nature, and the inhabitants were mostly twenty-something girls dressed in the latest fashions from Sluts R Us.
Rhett stood next to the wall with Sara, watching the parade of barely-there shorts, bras worn as outer garments, and sky-high heels, all of it displayed on tanned, firm bodies. She tugged on the sleeves of Lilith's shirt and wondered what in the hell she was doing there.
"All of a sudden my shirt here doesn't feel so Rock 'n Roll girlfriend anymore."
The look Sara gave her was full of understanding. "On the contrary, what you and I are wearing are the only things in here that are. Because we are Rock 'n Roll girlfriends, right? Don't let it bother you."
"I'm not bothered. I just kind of feel like I've stumbled into one of those video games where you nail whores for extra points."
Sara laughed so hard she had to lean against the wall for support.
"That's the best description I think I've ever heard.
And you're right. It is a game, and when some of the band decide to show up it'll kick into high gear.
Just sit back and watch it play out. Believe me, it'll get really entertaining. "
"Are you kidding? It already is." Rhett took a swallow from her bottle of Sam Adams. "So how'd all these people get back here anyway?"
"Some of them probably won passes from radio station contests. A couple are probably girls who caught either Drew or Parker's eye during the show."
"Really?" She looked closer at the girls preening themselves and casting wrath-filled glances at each other. "I thought that was just urban legend. You know, that the rock star plucks girls from the audience."
"Oh, no, they do it." Sara shrugged. "Of course, they've forgotten who they saw by now, so it's no big deal. Although that is how Drew met his ex-wife." She shook her head. "He learned real quick that you just fuck the girls you find in the audience, you don't marry them. It wasn't pretty."
"So most of these girls got back here like that?"
"Oh, hell no. The majority of those passes were given out by the road crew."
"Seriously?" Rhett turned wide eyes toward Sara. "Why?"
"Why do you think? Hey, there are girls who will be satisfied to just boff a crew member when they can't get one of the guys from the band."
A flurry of activity by men wearing Illicit crew shirts caught Rhett's attention. "What's going on?"
Sara looked toward the door. "Incoming."
Rhett's bemusement at Sara's cryptic statement turned to understanding when the band's tour manager, Mike, entered the room, followed by Drew, David and Parker. The imminent stampede toward them halted when Mike held up his hands and blasted an impressive whistle from between his teeth.
"This ain't a zoo, so don't act like animals," he said. "They'll get around to everyone, so just wait your turn."
Rhett hadn't seen so much tossing of hair since her senior prom as girls prepared to come face to face with the three rock stars.
"Freakin' amazing," she said. "They act like they're auditioning for something."
"Oh, but they are." Sara snickered. "David will definitely find someone to leave with, and Parker might.
Sometimes he does. Drew's a little pickier, but you never can tell.
But you ain't seen nothin' yet. I don't want to put down these guys, because I love the hell out of them.
But most of these people are waiting for Ross and Rhys. "
"But—"
"Yeah, the only two who are taken. But these little hussies don't care. In fact, they see it as a challenge." Sara shrugged at Rhett's open-mouthed look of shock. "Just wait. You'll see. And there's T now, so it won't be long." She sidled closer to Rhys's head of security. "Where's Owen?"
"Right behind me," T said. He winked at Rhett, and then turned his attention to the room, his gaze scanning the crowd like a Secret Service agent.
A moment later, Ross and Rhys walked into the room with Ross's head of security, and, as Sara predicted, the excitement that zapped through the pass holders was almost visible to the naked eye.
Neither man seemed to notice but remained in what looked like deep conversation with each other, ignoring the buzz their entrance generated.
Rhett was feeling a nice buzz, too, and it had nothing to do with the beer.
It was the sight of Rhys that made her nerves sizzle.
In the time since she'd seen him, he'd gone from flushed and sweaty to a hot of a different kind.
With a start of recognition, Rhett noticed he was wearing the same clothes he had on the day he left for Vancouver to record the album.
Pleasurable heat flooded her cheeks at the memories of the two of them in the back seat of his car, and of the way he looked on stage singing about it when the band played "Auto Erotic. "
As if her thoughts somehow summoned his attention, Rhys looked past his guitarist to where Rhett stood with Sara. A slow smile crossed his face as he said something to Ross with an imperceptible nod in their direction.
Ross looked over his shoulder and winked at his wife. Sara laughed under breath. "Hey, Rhett, you want another beer?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks."
"Be right back." Without taking her eyes from her husband, Sara moved toward the coolers, shadowed closely by Ross.
Rhett looked back at Rhys and found him in front of her, that devastating smile still in place. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good." She gave the smile back. "Better now that you're here. Especially given what you're wearing." A soft laugh shook her when he looked down at himself with a confused frown. "That's what you had on when we, um, took a tour of the back seat of your BMW."
"Really?" He looked up at her through his lashes.
"The only clothes I was concerned with that day were yours, and the only thing I remember about them is that they came off.
" He drew in a deep breath and shook his hair back.
"Can't think about that right now, though.
I have to go play nice for a bit first."
"I know." Rhett beat back her own libido with effort. "Go do what you have to do. I'm not going anywhere."
One of the men who Rhys referred to as Mike's minions appeared at his elbow. "Uh, Rhys? Mike says there are some people over there he thinks you should—"
Rhys turned to the guy with a smile that held no warmth. "You go right back over there and tell Mike I don't have to talk to anyone if I don't want to. I can turn round right now and walk out if I feel like it. And you can tell Mike I'm not a toddler, and I don't need my playtime scheduled."
The skin over the poor guy's cheeks tightened, and he bobbed his head in a stiff nod. "Right."
"Sorry." Rhys rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as the guy walked away. "I really didn't mean to snap at him like that."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." His lips curved in a rueful smile. "Just not feeling it tonight. I should have blown it off so I could do what I really want. Spend time with you."
"Hey, Rhys." Sara approached holding two bottles of beer and a tumbler with amber liquid. "I got you your favorite, Johnnie Walker, two ice cubes."
"You're one of the best, Sara." Rhys took the tumbler and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "All right, I'm off. I'll work my way back here as soon as I can." He placed a longer, more lingering kiss on Rhett's cheek, and then walked away.
"Here you go." Sara handed Rhett one of the bottles. "Drink up."
"Thanks." Rhett put the bottle to her mouth and watched Rhys as he did his thing.
While she had been entertained by Drew, Parker and David, standing by and watching Rhys being pawed was anything but fun.
Through narrowed eyes she watched hands stroking his arm as he smiled charmingly, watched firm young bodies press against him as photos were snapped.
Her breaking point was reached almost an hour later when a well-endowed girl handed him a Sharpie, and then pulled down the low-cut neck of her blouse until her entire breast popped out.
She must have made some sound because Sara leaned close. "Chill out, Rhett. They're rock stars. Signing ta-tas is part of the job description."
"I know. It's just..." She broke off with a shrug.
"Hard to watch, I know. Listen, I want to tell you something, okay?"
"Sure." Rhett tore her eyes away from the sight of Rhys signing his name across the girl's flesh. "What's up?"
Sara put her arm around Rhett's shoulders and gave her a sympathetic hug.
"Look, I've known Rhys since he was twenty and Ross dragged him to the States.
Rhys was married then, and I watched him turn away every single groupie that threw herself at him during that whole tour.
He kept turning them away until he got divorced.
Rhett, I've known him for almost thirty years, and that's what he does when he's with someone.
He doesn't cheat. Ever. So all these girls can shake their titties in his face and put their hands on him with the excuse that they're taking a picture, but that's as far as it's going to go.
He's with you. You're the one he wants, and you're the only one he's going to be with. Hear me?"
Some of the tension left Rhett's neck and shoulders, and she forced her hands to uncurl from the fists in which they were clenched.
"Thanks, Sara. That's good to know. I just...
" She glanced over at Rhys who appeared to be deep in conversation with a pair of blondes dressed in an assortment of black leather that did little to conceal their bodies.
Rhett couldn't help but wonder if those outfits came with a pole or if it was sold separately.
"I just didn't quite expect it to be like this. "