Текст книги "The Song Remains the Same"
Автор книги: Kelli Jean
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 28 страниц)
Phil needed to physically feel the pain that was eating him raw on the inside. He wanted to own his guilt and terror over the last three weeks in his flesh. I understood this, and admittedly…I kind of liked it. It was absolutely sex-inducing.
But I had a feeling he wanted more.
That was how he ended up naked with his wrists bound together, secured to the headboard with only enough slack to flip over if I needed him to. A few ideas were flitting through my mind, and I really thought he deserved to hurt a little bit, enough to feel it later on.
Right at this moment, I understood why he’d needed to share his hurt in the past, give it over to someone else. This felt…necessary. I needed to deliver it. As I straddled his waist, he and I stared into one another for some minutes, unguarded.
“You were the cause of most of my pain, Phil,” I told him, my voice deceptively soft.
He nodded. “I know, Baby. It’s why I want you to give it back to me. I need to carry it for you now.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, and my hand connected with his face with a sharp, stinging crack.
His head whipped to the side, and the breath left him in a whoosh.
“That’s for not touching me.” I slapped him again. “For telling me not to touch you.” Again. “I lost so many friends, people I loved, and just when I needed you the most, you abandoned me to face that horror alone!”
His chest jerked beneath me. “Fuck, Kenna—” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “I did. Oh my God…I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry? You left me! You let me rot alone in my own ringing head! You know what I felt?” What I’d felt was a furious and deep burning, fueled by all the mental anguish I had suppressed, ignored, and tried to forget.
“No, Baby—”
Crack!
“Fuck!” he grunted.
“I felt betrayed by the one person I had all my faith in. Deaf, alone, unwanted—”
“No!”
“Undesired. Unloved! Like a fucking burden being passed from one person to the next, whoever was taking fucking pity on me!” I shouted. The more I spoke, the more I recognized how true it was.
“Baby Girl—”
“I didn’t even know if I was Baby Girl anymore! You made me feel like garbage, Phil! Like, if I wasn’t one hundred percent functional, then I was disposable! I had just fought my way through literal hellfire, and it had only been the thought of you that made me fight so hard to survive. Then, you just turned your back on me—”
“STOP!” he screamed, tears leaking out of his eyes now. “Kenna, please…oh God, Baby…I’m sorry! I’m so, so, sorry.”
“Tell me I’m wrong!” I roared.
“You’re wrong!” he roared.
My hearing buzzed.
“I never stopped lovin’ you, Kenna! Fuck! I was out of my mind when I felt…you were gone! My heart was dead the moment I felt that last blast! You weren’t here anymore! I don’t know where you went, but you weren’t here with me! I was ready to die, woman!”
“Then, why did you leave me?” I spit.
“I was scared that I’d hurt you, that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself—”
“I needed to feel you!”
“You needed to heal!”
“I needed your strength! Your love! And you took that away from me!”
He bit his lip so hard that blood welled and stained his pretty mouth red. “I know. I didn’t know what else to do, Kenna. I was so scared, and it wasn’t until…I know I did wrong. I know that. I don’t…I love you, Kenna. I love you more than it should be possible!”
Bending over, I brushed my mouth against his, tasting the blood. “I forgive you,” I whispered.
“I never wanted to make you feel like that,” he softly told me. “I was stupid.”
“No. Just scared.”
“Scared stupid then.”
I smiled. “If you insist.”
He nodded and licked the rest of the blood off his lip. “Don’t stop.”
“Just getting started,” I assured him.
Kissing him deeply, I sucked on his wounded lip before pressing my lips to his chin. Slowly, I went down his neck, his chest, his stomach. Abs rippled as his skin flushed with goose bumps. His breath hitched, and what a sweet sound it was.
Bright afternoon sunlight poured into the bedroom, and it felt so strange to do this to him with the luminous golden glow showcasing him. How enchanting, that he was so comfortable like this with me.
“Tell me…did you let anyone else have what’s mine?” I asked, knowing he hadn’t.
That shit with Koko had been repeatedly replaying itself in my head. He’d made it obvious he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him.
“Fuck no!” he snarled.
I rewarded him with a long, slow lick up the length of him, from base to weeping head. Salty clear fluid spread over my tongue, and I had to close my eyes and savor it. I’d missed his flavor.
“You taste so good, babe,” I told him.
“It felt good,” he whispered. “Fuck, I missed you. I was so fuckin’ lost without you. I felt…broken. You were there, within reach but so fuckin’ far away.”
Grasping him, I sucked the head of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. My hand slipped between my legs, and I lubed my fingers up with myself. As I took him to the root, I wiggled my wet fingers into his crack, finding his tight ring of muscle, rubbing and pressing.
“Fuck…fuck, Kenna…” he moaned, making me tingle everywhere.
Inching my way inside, I sucked him hard. Phil started to tremble, sweat slicking his body. Thrusting his hips, writhing, he gasped and groaned, and—fuck me—it was beautiful to witness. His anus pulsed faintly, and I knew he was toeing the edge.
“Baby…oh God!” he cried.
He was a nerve ending away from an explosion when I pulled out my finger and drew my mouth up to the tip. Flicking it once with my tongue, I pulled off completely and shimmied off the bed.
“Fuck!” he screamed. “Don’t stop!”
Ignoring him, I sauntered into the bathroom to scrub my hands and smirk at my reflection in the mirror.
“KENNA!” he roared.
My, I loved the sound of it.
Emerging back into the bright bedroom, with the sight of Phil’s bronzed body blazing in the sunlight, I couldn’t help but smile. Poor man, he was being tortured. His cock looked close to erupting, red and purple, the veins bulging.
“Turn over,” I commanded. “It’s ass-beatin’ time.”
“Kenna, I can’t—”
“What’s our word, babe?”
“Kashmir!” he barked.
“Are you calling Kashmir on me?”
“No!”
“Good. Turn over.”
Phil’s chest shuddered with his awesome breaths, his body strung up tight. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, and then rolled onto his stomach. The contact of the bed with his erection made him moan. Turning to face me, he watched as I removed his thick leather belt from his cargoes.
“Holy fuckin’ shit, Kenna! What are you gonna do?”
Shrugging with mock confidence, I replied, “Whatever I need to do to get out all this aggression that’s been building up. You know how it is.”
“I ain’t ever beat you with a belt!”
“No…you only shoved that monster cock up my dry ass and told me to take it.”
Having nothing to retort with, he turned his face into the pillow. Phil’s ass really was an epic piece of flesh. It should be illegal for a man to have an ass like that.
Folding the belt in half, I grabbed each end and tugged hard, creating a resounding snap to echo through the room. Phil jumped, his ass cheeks clenching, and he buried his head deeper into the pillow. His shoulders tensed, bunching, as his arms tugged on the silk cord bounding his wrists. I started to wonder if I could go through with it.
“Oh my God, woman!” he yelled. “Fuckin’ do it already!”
Well, I can damn well give it a shot.
Climbing back onto the bed, I got myself into a steady stance on my knees. I raised and crossed my arm over my chest and let that fucker fly.
“AUGH!”
Fuck yeah.
A fat red welt rose up across both of his cheeks, and I lovingly licked it. “That was fun.” I laughed.
“Fuck you!”
Crack!
“AAUUGH!” he roared. That time, he ground his pelvis into the bed.
“You nasty freak! You liked that!”
Shuddering and panting, Phil broke out into a sweat all over, even behind his knees. I pulled my arm back to deliver another stinging blow.
“Argh! Fuck!”
“You ever going to treat me like that again?” I asked.
“Fuck you!”
Crack!
“SHIT!” His screams could probably alert the neighbors to domestic violence.
Feeling giddy, I laughed before demanding, “Are you?”
His ass looked like it was on fire. I hadn’t broken the skin, and I didn’t want to, but I noticed the tail end had a bruise blooming.
“Would it matter? Wouldn’t you forgive me anyway?”
I crouched down, my mouth right next to his ear. “Would you really want to test that?”
“No,” he answered truthfully. “No, Baby. I never wanna hurt you like that again. I swear, it killed me inside. Please…can I have one more?”
Glancing down at his flaming arse, I bit my lip. “I think I might have gotten carried away. You’re getting bruised.”
“One more,” he begged. “Just one more.”
A deep breath steadied me, and I rose up, arm across my chest, belt over my shoulder, and then I let one last beating whistle through the air before connecting with his welted-up perfect ass.
“FUCK!” he screamed, grinding into the bed again. “Baby, I’m gonna come. I’m so fuckin’ close.”
“Roll over,” I snapped.
He flipped onto his back, sucking air through his teeth. “Ohhh fuuuck!”
“How do you want me?”
“Sitting on my face with my dick in your mouth,” he replied.
Quickly, I untied his wrists, and he grabbed me. In the blink of an eye, I found myself straddling his head, and his hand was sliding up the back of my neck, fisting into my hair.
“Fuckin’ suck me dry!” he snarled.
Then, his mouth was on me, and I ceased to think at all. He shoved my head down, and I took him to the back of my throat where he spurted hot and thick. His powerful ecstatic moan buzzed through my clit, my cunt, up into my nipples.
“Don’t stop,” he said harshly. “Keep goin’.”
Phil’s soft lips and tongue devoured me—sucking, licking, kissing—until I cried out around his once more throbbing cock as I convulsed from clit to sternum. Limp and trembling, he threw me off him and pounced on me, thrusting into me hard and fast.
“How do you want me, Baby? You want me to make love to you? Or you want me to fuck you stupid?”
“Fuck me stupid,” I replied breathlessly.
Slamming his mouth on mine, he slicked the taste of me onto my tongue.
“You like it when I taste like you?” he asked.
“Fuck yes!”
“Yeah, me, too,” he growled.
My gorgeous, wonderful Phil held nothing back, his cock pile-driving me into a state of utter bliss. He stretched his long fingers through my hair and pulled, exposing my neck for him to score his teeth over. I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back, gripping fistfuls of muscle with bruising force.
I came and came and came.
“Make love to me now…” I whimpered, feeling deliciously battered and bruised.
Like a switch flipping, he turned gentle and sweet, thoroughly kissing me. He rode in and out with easy slick strokes, making me come one last time as he himself dripped over the edge.
“I love you,” he whispered against my mouth, his cock twitching hard inside me.
Phil pressed his Third Eye to mine, and my brain filled with the terror, pain, loss, heartache, hope, elation, frustration, fear, longing, desire, anguish, and love he had felt these last few weeks. Leaving had never been an option, but he had desperately tried to figure out how to make us whole again.
“Damn, Phil…”
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Kenna. I died that day with you. My heart…she was gone.”
“It’s not like I did it on purpose!”
“I don’t care. I can’t exist without you.”
Phil had had a few days where it was a little difficult for him to sit down without wincing, and though I’d questioned whether I should have taken it as far as it had gone, he’d had no complaints.
Freak. I’d catch him grinning when he felt the soreness.
It wasn’t like he wanted a beating every time we would have sex. It was saved for rare occasions. He had encouraged me to bite him more though. I was really wondering if maybe he should give Sheri’s therapist a call. Not that I wondered too hard.
Apparently, I was a freak, too, because I’d liked it just as much. Maybe I should be the one calling a therapist…
About a week after my hearing had come back, Phil had wanted to discuss my plans for the future. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of what I was supposed to do.
Sitting at the kitchen island, chowing down on sushi, he looked at me, and I knew something was up.
“Have you given any thoughts to what you wanna do now?” he asked.
As though a great weight had descended upon my shoulders, I sagged on my stool. “What would you have me do, Phil?”
“Marry me, and give me my fat little giant babies,” he promptly replied.
“Besides that, ass!”
Mixing some soy sauce with wasabi, he said, “I want you to consider maybe working for me. For us. You know, NOLA’s Records.”
“Huh?”
He nodded and shoved a piece of sushi into his mouth. “Yeah.”
“Doing what?”
He shrugged.
“Listen here, caveman, quit being all coy, and just spit it out.”
Laying his chopsticks down, he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top. “I want you to talent-scout for us. You’d let us know when you hear or see really good bands and write up reviews for us. That way, you could come on tour, for the whole tour, and you could give us and the crew treatments and do your doctor thing to keep you happy.”
“Do my doctor thing?”
“You know what I mean. Look, if it had just been Rita who had died and not the fuckin’ clinic blowin’ up, I wouldn’t be askin’ this of you. You worked your ass off to be what you are, but I also know it ain’t what you really want to do. Will you think about it?”
It seemed like the perfect solution. I could spend all my time listening to music, going to shows, and getting paid to do it, while still doing my doctor thing, if I were so inclined.
“The guys think it would be awesome. They’ve all agreed.”
“I’m sure,” I mumbled.
“We’ve hired Alys as our personal accountant.”
“Seriously?” I asked, wondering why she hadn’t told me about that. “Does she know?”
He rolled his eyes…and then shot me a guilty look. “She will when her dad tells her at the end of the week.”
Alys worked for her father, Papa David’s, accounting firm.
“Damn, Phil.”
“Like she’d object! She wants to come on tour, too.”
“What about Lili?”
“Well, she is our favorite photographer…and maybe Lewis agreed to be our personal chef for the summer.”
“Shit. What does he charge for something like that?”
Phil shrugged. “He’s writing a new book, and he needs to travel to gather recipes from all over the nation anyway. Two birds, one stone, you know? He can try out his spin-off of the recipes on us, and we’ll be happy to tell him if it’s shit or not.”
“You’ll eat anything!”
“Except that ambrosia garbage. That was like solidified vomit,” he said, and picked up his chopsticks once more.
“For the love of—”
He jabbed his chopsticks in my direction. “I can have what I want, woman, and I want all our friends with us on this tour. We spent five fuckin’ years tourin’ the world with strangers and weirdos and people who smelled worse than the tour bus. We all want this. And Connor will need you for moral support.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
Too fuckin’ right. “I’ll think about it.”
It was a no-brainer really. Phil was like an enormous fairy godfather, just handing out answers to people’s wildest fantasies. He was brilliant, intuitive, compassionate, and wealthy enough to give the people he loved what they wanted in life.
Alys’s hand flexed around mine as we stared up at the monstrosity that was to be our new home for the next ten weeks. Sleek, shiny, and massive, the black tour bus with its obscene amount of vehicular decadence loomed above us.
“Kenna, I think it’s bigger than our house,” Alys whispered.
“Mmm…”
This was our first look at it. We hadn’t even gone inside yet, and we were scheduled to head out in less than an hour. NOLA’s Junk had had this thing custom-made for them. Usually, a beast of this size could fit around twenty-five people, but it would service only the band, their women, and a small handful of friends.
The bunks housed double beds with smaller spaces for those who needed to tag along. However, Phil, being the mad giant of the clan, had a special space on the second level to house a queen-sized bed. For five years, Phil had slept on a sofa on their tour bus because the bunks were unable to contain his gargantuan body, so the guys had happily let him have the space they had coined as The Attic. The Attic was now my space, too.
Most of our luggage was already on board, carried on by the roadies who had joined us the night before. They had their own smaller, older bus that would be following this one.
They’d hired their driver, Mack, from their European tours. He was the quintessential truck driver—middle-aged and bald with a gut that had only shown up from a diet rich in beer and fast food. He smelled a lot better than he looked though. Phil had said the man could drive through any condition.
There was a fully functional kitchen, and according to Lili, Lewis had brought on every imaginable appliance for it. Since I was a certified and licensed nutritionist, Lewis had asked for my help in designing the menus. I’d be working alongside Lewis fucking Lee on his new cookbook.
How awesome is that?
“How much did this thing cost?” Alys asked, still whispering. It was as though, if she raised her voice, the bus might take offense.
“I’ve given up trying to figure the cost of shit anymore,” I replied, my voice strong and audible. The bus didn’t scare me. Spending ten weeks cooped up with horny, moody musicians was what scared me—along with having only one toilet. “Aren’t you their accountant? How do you not know?”
“I’m only doing the expenses accrued on the road. If I do a good job, then maybe I’ll take over everything else. This is just a trial period.”
“Ready for the grand tour?” X came up and slipped his arm around Alys’s waist. “We can break in our bunk. They’re super private with sliding panels that lock and everything.”
“Are they soundproofed?” I drawled.
X shrugged. “Meh, that’s what headphones are for.”
“Ugh,” I grumped under my breath.
“I’m not sure there are headphones powerful enough to drown out Phil’s sex screams,” Alys hissed in my general direction as X tugged her toward the bus door.
Fair enough.
I felt a warm big hand on my ass and looked over my shoulder to see Phil smiling at me.
“Come on. Let me show you our new home.”
Taking my hand, Phil led me on and straight to the back of the bus, passing the dining and living area, the sweetest travel kitchen imaginable, and the foxholes—aka bunks. From the cabinets to the furniture to the pine flooring, everything was light with neutral colors.
Reaching above our heads, Phil tugged on a cord with a brass ring secured at the end and pulled down a sliding set of retractable stairs.
“After you, woman.” He grinned.
Climbing up, my head popped into the sleeping space at the foot of the bed. On either side of the queen-sized bed, mounted to the wall, were lamps and small compartments to stow our stuff. Sitting on the bed, I watched as he tossed our carry-on bags into a corner. Our bigger duffel bags had gone in the storage area underneath the bus, for the time being.
“Wow. Are you sure the guys don’t mind not having this sort of space for themselves?”
“If they do, they haven’t said anythin’ to me,” he replied.
Leaning over me, Phil crawled up on the bed, pushing me back, until I was beneath him, our chests pressing together. His smile made me lose any and every thought while his dimples did funny things to my libido. One would think that, after ten months of being together, that sort of thrill would have dissipated, but no…all he had to do was smile, and my world would light up like New Year’s Eve.
“Hey,” he said, his voice rolling over me like warm fudge.
“Hey.” I smiled back.
“I’m fuckin’ stoked that you’re here with me.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m road-trippin’ with my best friend across the country, and to top it all off, she’s my number one groupie—”
I pinched the sensitive skin above his hip.
“Ow!”
“Groupie?” I mock-raged at him.
“Can’t you be my groupie on the road? Who else am I gonna be bangin’?”
“I don’t know. Your fiancée?”
“Where’s the fun in that—ow!”
“Ass.”
“Mmm…” His hand slid up my denim-clad thigh to cup a cheek. “I do love your ass. Can’t my fiancée be my groupie, too?”
His mouth claimed mine in a scorching kiss that made my knees draw up and my hips arch into his groin. Already chubbing, he growled at me to let me know how much he liked that. His hand slid up under my shirt to cop a feel on a braless boob.
“Dude, you think you could wait until we take off before dry-humpin’ my sister?”
We turned our heads to see Connor’s head popping up through the trapdoor.
“Obviously not,” said Phil. “What do you want?”
“Jason said for everyone to meet in the living room.”
“The fuck for?” grumped Phil.
“I don’t know! Band meeting or some such shit.”
Phil scowled at my brother. “Yeah, gimme a minute.”
“He said—”
“A fuckin’ minute, asshole!”
Connor’s head disappeared, and Phil huffed with irritation.
“Aren’t you going to go?” I asked, trying to prop myself up on my elbows.
He twitched his cock against me.
“Oh. Yeah, you might need more than a minute.” I snorted. “And you might want to get off of me.”
“I don’t wanna get off of you. I wanna get off in you.”
“Dude!” my brother shouted from below. “Gross!”
“Fuck you!” Phil shouted back at him. “Yeah, this is going to be a real treat.” He rolled off me and onto his back next to me. “I’m startin’ to think that maybe we should’ve found someone who doesn’t share your DNA for the last band member.”
“Liar.” I laughed. “You love him.”
Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his face and adjusted his crotch. “Maybe. But I love your pussy more.”
“Send Alys up?”
He grunted and headed down the ladder, grinning. Glancing up at me, his eyes sparkled with happiness. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Kicking off the tour in Bethel Woods, Alys, Lili, and I were in seventh heaven. This was where the original 1969 Woodstock concert had been held. We wanted nothing more than to traipse our asses around the whole park, and Lili was gnashing her teeth to go out and use her state-of-the-art camera.
Our bus pulled into an assigned lot. As NOLA’s Junk was headlining the event, we had the closest spot to the stage, but it wasn’t all that close. They also had the biggest crew and the most equipment.
Excitement was bubbling over in the three of us, and we practically ran off the bus to get out into the fresh air and early morning sunshine.
“Here, you have to take these with you,” Sheri said, hopping out behind us and handing us our passes. “It’s the only way security will let you guys back here. Don’t lose them. Make sure your phones are on you, so in case you do, you can call one of us to come out and find you.”
“All right,” I said, pulling the pass over my head. “Where’s the security detail?”
“Past the trees. They patrol around in civilian clothes, too, so try to keep the pot-smoking to the confines of the lot. If they bust you anywhere else, you might be arrested.”
“Damn!” grunted Lili.
Tim came scurrying up to us, looking excessively stressed for so early in the morning. He exchanged a look with Sheri.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Slaying Stacy had to cancel. Mike has laryngitis.”
Mike Stacy and his band, Slaying Stacy, was one of the bands that had played at the House of Horrors show in LA last year.
“So?”
“So, they’re not opening for us now.”
“Who’s taking their place?”
Tim looked pained and mildly panicked. “Cornered Cannibal.”
Sheri sagged under the weight of that news. “When did that happen?”
“Two days ago. Apparently, Mike can’t make a noise at all. Cornered Cannibal was free. They’ll be arriving sometime tonight.”
The concert was tomorrow. Tonight, we were all going to stay in a hotel to have some privacy and decent showers. The roadies and technicians were going to stay with the buses.
“Where are they flying in from?” asked Sheri.
“LA. I don’t think they’re in the same hotel,” replied Tim.
“What’s going on?” asked Jason as he stepped off the bus.
Tim and Sheri exchanged another look.
Then, Tim turned to Jason. “Band meeting. Now.”
Jason’s golden brows rose up. “Yeah, all right.”
Alys, Lili, and I exchanged looks as well. One thing was clear. We were getting the hell out of here.
“Keep your phones on you,” Sheri whispered, knowing we were ready to run. “If you don’t hear from me, be back by two o’clock, okay? That’s when we’re scheduled to be picked up.”
“Okay,” Alys replied.
We hauled ass through the lot and into some trees, deciding that camouflage might work in our favor.
We all knew what it meant when NOLA’s Junk and Cornered Cannibal were in the same zip code. Once, the two bands had been great friends and amicably toured together. Then, Phil and Devon GianFranco had picked up a hot redhead one night in Germany, and it had all fallen apart. Alys and Lili knew about it because I had told them. Of course, they were never to utter that conversation to another soul under threat of a painful death.
“So…this should be interesting,” drawled Lili as we hurried farther away.
I wanted to be out of earshot when Phil blew his lid. I had the feeling that they did, too.
Alys giggled. “Poor Tim.”
“For real! That guy is gonna die from a heart attack before he’s thirty-five!” I said.
“Well, it’s not like you see him quitting,” said Lili.
From inside my jeans pocket, my phone started to ring and buzz.
“Twenty bucks it’s—” Lili started to say.
“Hey, babe,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Can you come back? Now. Please?”
“Phil!” I whined. “We’re already on the track, heading for the security—”
“Now!” he barked before hanging up.
“Are we going back?” asked Alys.
“No.” I replied. I pushed on his number to call him back.
“Yeah?” he snapped.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. I’m sorry you’re pissed by this news, but that doesn’t mean I deserve to be your verbal whipping post.”
He sighed. “You’re right, Baby Girl. I’m sorry.”
“And to save us all the trouble of having to go back there since we’re nearly to the checkpoint, I promise not to go near anyone involved with Cornered Cannibal—not the band, not their crew, and certainly not their groupies. Okay?”
I could practically hear the steam coming out of his ears, but he took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“All right. We’re just checking shit out, and Lili’s gonna take some photos. Then, we’ll head back.”
“All right.”
“All right.”
“Baby Girl?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really upset about this.”
“I get that, but there’s nothing we can do about it, and at this very moment, it doesn’t warrant me coming back to the bus I just escaped from.”
“Not even so I can get a hug?”
“Quit it! I’ll give you one when I get back!” I snapped.
“Don’t be gone too long, okay?”
“All right.”
We showed our passes and stated our names at the security gate. Through the gate led us to the backstage area, which we went around, following the concrete path.
“Do you think they’ll put us on lockdown or something?” Alys asked.
“Who? The guys?”
“Yeah.”
“If they try that shit, we can just go home. There’s no point in traveling for ten weeks if we’re going to spend the whole time locked up in the fucking bus.”
It was true. As the accountant for NOLA’s Junk, Alys kept tabs on their daily spending and crunched figures nightly, and I might be their licensed nutritionist and therapist, but during the shows, we were to go out and scout for bands on the lesser stages, which were currently being set up for the festival the next day. Lili was to accompany us, so she could take photos of the talent on her digital camera and then upload them into her shiny new laptop, courtesy of NOLA Records.
But…this was it really. This would be my first attempt at writing reviews on bands. It wasn’t for Rolling Stone or anything, and the only people who’d be reading them were the guys, but it was a start. Phil had faith in my writing and my musical taste, and I wasn’t going to let Cornered Cannibal take that away from me.
“So, if they’re opening for NOLA’s Junk, does that mean they’ll be parking next to us at venues and shit?” asked Lili.
“How the hell would I know?”
This whole situation was starting to suck, big time. Phil was going to freak out and go all Neanderthal. I could feel it.
“I think if we just keep our heads down and mouths shut, we should have no problems,” Alys said quietly. “X hates those guys. He told me Jürgen treats women like garbage, and he has an iron fist on the other guys in the band, like he owns them or something.”
I’d read articles about the wild shit Cornered Cannibal had gotten up to. Orgy-type drunken shindigs were the norm for them, and they had a very specific group of women with whom they traveled. Drugs and alcohol heavily lubricated them as well. No female journalist would interview them anymore. The last one had been sexually harassed to the point that she feared for her safety, and she’d brought it to court against the notorious lead singer and the bass player, Peder. I had read that Devon hadn’t been much of an active participant in that kind of behavior for a long time. It was rumored that there was a lot of tension between him and Jürgen these days.
Alys was right. Keeping our heads down and mouths shut was the way to go.
Fresh air, decent exercise, sunshine—it was good for us to get away from everyone else and just be the three of us. We took a couple of hours to get the lay of the land, and Lili got some shots of the park.
Upon our return, Connor, Flipper, and Phil were sitting outside in folding chairs. Motherfucker was shirtless and bootless, soaking up the sun and turning a toasted caramel color. Fuck, he was hot. I’d never get used to the raw, sensual beauty that was Phil fucking Deveraux.
“Hey, Kenna Baby.” His deep voice rumbled through me.
Combined with his smile, my knees went a little weak.
“Hey,” I replied, all but skipping over to him.
Pulling me onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck, his stubble tickling me.
“What do you wanna do today?”
I shrugged, relaxing into him. The man was living, breathing furniture.
“What do you feel like doing?” I asked.
“Whatever my Baby Girl wants. I was thinkin’ we could just stay in tonight, order room service,” he casually mentioned.
