Текст книги "Double Time"
Автор книги: Olivia Cunning
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter 14
Reagan wasn’t exactly an early riser, but the members of Sinners slept most of the day away. She supposed she’d have to get her sleep cycle more in sync with the up-all-night, sleep-all-day lifestyle of the average rock star, but for now she was wide awake at seven a.m. and the bus was still and silent. Trey was snoring softly beside her. He’d earned his sleep after the hours of pleasure he’d gifted her the night before. It was almost as if he was trying to prove something or make up to her for some wrong that he continued to deny. Not that she was complaining. The man was a phenomenal lover. She believed that he hadn’t cheated on her, but she wondered how long it would be before he did. The opportunity was always there. It would be so easy for him to give in to temptation. She’d just have to trust him. No matter how scary that thought was. Ethan’s cheating had ripped her apart inside, and she didn’t care for an encore. But if she wanted to be with Trey, and she did, she knew she couldn’t spend every moment they were apart seething with suspicion.
Reagan inched toward the edge of the mattress, trying not to disturb Trey as she got up. She had to pee and a shower sounded like a little piece of heaven, but Mr. Cuddles apparently had some extrasensory perception of when his bedmate was about to vacate the premises. Trey’s arm wrapped around her waist and he tugged her against him, spooning up against her back and tangling her in his arms and legs until she was trapped. He murmured something unintelligible against her hair. She relaxed into his warm body and told her protesting bladder to shut up. This was nice. There was no place she’d rather be. She gently stroked the skin on his forearm, concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing. She could have lain like that for hours. If she hadn’t had to pee so bad.
She carefully untangled her body from his and hurried out of bed. He lifted his head off the pillow and blinked at her. “Where you going?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep.
“To the bathroom.”
“You coming back?”
“How long are you going to stay in bed?”
“Depends on if you come back.” He grinned at her and dropped his head on her pillow, burrowing into it and inhaling deeply. “I already miss you.”
No wonder he got anything he wanted. He was so sweet and unashamed of it. He wasn’t manipulative, exactly. Persuasive. That’s what he was. “I’ll be back,” she promised as she slipped into her discarded panties. She’d thought about getting some guitar practice in and working on the technique Brian had shown her on the plane, but spending the day in bed with Trey sounded a lot more entertaining. She was a little disappointed that Brian had left immediately after the show and would be gone until they played in Saint Louis the next night, but she understood that his family obligations came before indulging a fangirl guitarist with lessons on his grandeur.
Reagan put on her clothes from the day before but rummaged around in her suitcase until she found everything she needed for a shower.
“Looks like you plan on doing more than going pee,” Trey said.
“I’m going to take a shower.” She was sticky with cum. Trey had used condoms the night before, but he’d peeled them off at the last moment and spurted on her belly. Her back. Her ass. Her breasts. Probably other places too. She’d lost track. At the time, it had been incredibly sexy, but now she needed to feel clean.
After her quick shower—there was a limited supply of water on the bus—she found her purse in the dining area and checked her phone for messages. Her father had called and left a message. “I spent all day Sunday wondering if you’re alive or dead.” She had meant to call him. She made it a habit to call him every Sunday, but so many things were happening that it had slipped her mind. He would probably be at work, but she’d leave him a message so he knew that she was safe. He’d never wanted her to leave Arkansas. He’d been convinced that she couldn’t take care of herself. Or maybe he’d been more worried that there’d be no one to take care of him anymore. She’d taken over the role of domestic goddess when Mom had left. Cooked, cleaned, did the laundry. She sometimes worried that Daddy ate canned tuna every night and wore dirty socks, but she also knew that she had to make her own life. Catering to her father for twenty-one years had been long enough.
She was surprised that he answered when she called.
“Is everything okay, Reagan?” he asked gruffly.
Her heart started to pound. She already knew that Daddy wouldn’t approve of her going on tour with a rock band. Of making her dream to become a professional guitarist a reality. If he had his way, she’d have become a concert cellist in some orchestra. Yawn.
“Everything is wonderful, Daddy,” she said, her voice giving away none of the anxiety in her chest. She wanted him to be proud of her. She didn’t want to listen to him berate her for having dreams that did not match his. “I have some exciting news.”
“I thought you were dead. Or worse. Strung out on drugs.”
“I don’t do drugs,” she said flatly. He was big on stereotypes. “I did win a contest.”
“A music contest?” He actually sounded excited.
“Yeah.”
“So you’re going back to cello?”
“No, it wasn’t an orchestral contest. It was a rock guitarist contest.”
Silence. She could picture the look of displeasure on his face. She’d seen it enough times.
She pressed on. “I’ve been selected to be the rhythm guitarist for Exodus End while they tour the US and world this year. This is an amazing opportunity for me.”
More silence.
“So if I forget to call you, I’m probably doing drugs or sleeping around with tattooed freaks or showing off my ass on stage.”
More silence.
Something, Dad. Say something.
“I’ve got to go,” she said after a long moment of listening to silence.
“Be careful, Reagan.”
The phone clicked in her ear as he hung up. “I love you, Daddy.”
She sank into the booth at the dining table and stared down at her phone. She figured she’d never make the man proud. She might as well let that dream go. Her cell phone sounded, alerting her to the receipt of a text message. She viewed it without much thought.
You took what’s mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.
She sucked a deep breath into her lungs and erased the message before thinking better of it. She’d probably received the message by mistake. She’d never taken anything from anyone. Why would someone threaten her? She suddenly wanted to talk to Ethan. She dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Reagan?” His deep voice was groggy with sleep.
“Another late night?” she asked. Her heart was still pounding, but she felt safer just hearing his voice.
“Yeah, lucky me.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
“I’m glad you called. I’ve been wondering how you’ve been. I didn’t want to come across as a paranoid, overprotective asshole, so I somehow managed to keep myself from calling you.”
“You are paranoid and overprotective.”
“But not an asshole?”
“Usually not.”
He laughed. “So why did you call? Everything okay?”
“Mostly.”
“New boyfriend getting on your nerves already?”
“No. Trey’s wonderful. I called my dad this morning. Told him about the tour.”
Ethan groaned. “I can imagine how that went.”
“And then… I got a strange text message.”
“Strange? Strange how?”
“Threatening.”
“Someone threatened you?” Ethan no longer sounded groggy. “Who sent it?”
“I don’t know. I deleted it. I didn’t think to check.”
“I can probably get the information from the phone company, but it will take some digging and persuasion.”
Ethan’s means of persuasion were far different from Trey’s methods.
“What time did you get it?” he asked.
“Right before I called you.”
“Seven thirty-ish your time.”
She nodded.
“Reagan?”
“I’m here. Yeah, around seven thirty.”
“I’ll see if I can find out who sent it. If you get another one, make sure you don’t delete it.”
“It scared me,” she admitted.
“What did it say?”
“‘You took what’s mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.’”
“Probably some jealous ex of your new boyfriend’s. It was most likely an empty threat, but I’ll still check up on it. Are you still scared?”
“I feel better now.” Ethan always made her feel safe. She was thinking she overreacted. She’d never been threatened like that before.
“If you need your bodyguard a couple weeks early, I can fly out. Where are you now? On your way to Saint Louis, right?”
“How did you know?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I sort of mapped out your entire trip based on the tour dates posted on Sinners’ website.”
Reagan laughed. “See. You are paranoid and overprotective.”
“You can count on it.”
“I’ll be okay, Ethan. Thanks for being there when I needed you.”
“You can count on that too.”
Chapter 15
Several days later, standing in the dressing room of the venue in Indianapolis, Trey held his cell phone in an iron grip. “What do you mean, you’re stuck in traffic?” Trey asked Brian. “We have to be onstage in twenty minutes.”
“It can’t be helped, Trey. I didn’t order a car fire on the interstate in an attempt to annoy everyone.”
“If you’d quit fucking running off to L.A. every frickin’ night—”
“I have other obligations now, Trey. I know the word ‘responsibility’ isn’t in your vocabulary, but maybe you should think about someone other than yourself for five goddamned minutes.”
Trey hated arguing with Brian. The man had a skill for laying on a guilt trip. “I’m not thinking of myself. I’m thinking about those twenty thousand fans who paid to see us perform and who expect us to be onstage at ten o’clock. Not ten thirty. Not eleven. Ten.”
“So stall them for half an hour. I’ll be there. I’m just going to be late.”
“Stall them? What are we going to do? Put Jace onstage to do his knock-knock joke routine?”
“You’ll think of something.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Trey caught sight of Reagan laughing with (or at) Eric. “You know what? We’ll just start without you.”
Trey hung up before Brian could say anything else. Trey found Sed drinking a beer with several fans who’d scored VIP passes from a local radio station.
“Brian’s going to be late,” Trey told him.
“Late?” Sed glanced at the clock. “Like how late?”
“At least thirty minutes.”
“Fuck. The crowd will go berserk by then.” Sed set his beer down and headed toward the dressing room exit. The last of the opening bands was finishing up their set. Trey knew what Sed’s plan was. Try to keep the Kickstart onstage longer. Trey had a better idea. At least he thought it was great. He started after Sed.
One of the fans grabbed Trey’s arm. “Is Master Sinclair okay?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
“Yeah, he’s just stuck in traffic. No worries.”
By the time Trey caught up with him, Sed was talking to Kickstart’s soundboard operator. The guy shook his head and pointed at his watch. Sed wiped a hand over his face and stared up at the rigging over the stage.
Onstage, Kip Forrester, the lead singer of Kickstart, yelled, “Are you ready for Sinners to rock your faces off?”
The crowd roared and then followed Kip in chanting, “Sinners, Sinners, Sinners.” He was doing his job as a great opening act by getting the crowd pumped up for the headlining band.
Trey took Sed by the arm and led him to a quieter hallway behind the stage. “If we make them wait an hour before we start the show, they’ll probably riot.”
“That’s what I was thinking. William says there’s no way Kickstart can do another encore. Any ideas?”
“Reagan can fill in for Brian.”
Sed looked at him as if he’d said, “Reagan can walk on water.”
“Just to get us started,” Trey clarified. “As soon as Brian gets here, he can take over.”
“I don’t think our fans will like that much. Most of them come just to see Brian.” He paused. “And me.”
Sed was never short in self-confidence.
“Do you have a better idea?” Trey asked.
“Yeah, I do. We’ll tell Brian he can’t go back to L.A. after every show. Put our foot down with him. This is bullshit. I thought he was going to pass out onstage in Saint Louis.”
Trey scoffed. “Good luck with that, Sed. He’s not going to give up seeing his family for anything.”
“I understand where he’s coming from, but we only have one more week on the road. He fucking looks like the walking dead. He’s stretched too thin and not doing a good job at anything. Not performing. Not taking care of himself or his family.”
Even though Trey was pissed at Brian, he didn’t like anyone saying bad things about him. Not even Sed. “He’s doing his best.”
Sed snorted derisively. “You don’t really believe that.”
“He’s just trying to do too much right now.”
“And failing at everything. Go see if Reagan is up for this idea. We’ll try it. We might have to do the entire show twice, but at least we won’t have an out-of-control crowd.” Sed rubbed his jaw. “I hope.”
Trey grinned, his heart drumming with excitement. “She’ll do great. Everyone will love her.”
Sed chuckled. “I think you’re a tad partial, Trey.”
Trey hurried back to the dressing room and found Reagan chattering at Jace, who listened intently to her entire one-sided conversation and nodded occasionally but said nothing.
Trey moved in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He probably should have okayed this plan with her before bringing it up with Sed, but how could she refuse? And if she did, Trey was sure he could get his way with very little effort. He knew she kind of liked him.
Reagan covered his hands with hers and pressed them against her belly, encouraging him to hold her more tightly. “Are you ready to go onstage?” she asked.
“Are you?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I can’t wait to do my first show in two weeks. I’m getting anxious.”
“I meant are you ready to go onstage tonight?”
She turned around in his arms and gave him a questioning look.
“Brian’s going to be late, so I thought you could stand in for him for a couple of songs until he gets here.”
“No way! I haven’t rehearsed. I’d make a total fool of myself.”
“You know all of Sinners’ songs. You’ll do great.”
“Trey, I can’t do this.”
“I already told Sed you’d do it. Don’t make me look like an ass.”
Her eyebrows drew together and she pinned him with a heated stare. “You’re being one, why not look like one?”
Trey tilted his head just so and held her gaze with his. “Please.”
“Don’t ‘please’ me, Trey Mills. That look will not get you everything you want.”
“Even if I want to please you?”
Her lips twisted as she tried to suppress a smile, and he knew she was going to cave. “You always please me,” she said.
“So you’ll do it?” he pressed.
“Sure. Why not?”
He kissed her neck and murmured in her ear, “You’re getting the extra-large tongue stud tonight, Reagan Elliot.”
“You’re supposed to sweeten the deal before I agree to your terms, not after.”
“Are you objecting?”
She wrapped both arms around him and stared up into his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“I guess we’d better let the stage crew know there’s been a slight change in the show tonight.”
Eric tapped Trey on the shoulder. “Uh, Trey, I think Reagan is great and all, but I don’t think this is the best idea.”
Trey lifted an eyebrow at him. “What would be your best idea?”
“To wait for Brian.”
“They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?” Reagan said. “I’d hate me if I was waiting to see Master Sinclair perform and some tomboy stepped out on stage in his place.”
“They’ll love you, Reagan. I guarantee it.”
* * *
Reagan didn’t feel right borrowing Brian’s guitar without his permission, but his equipment was already tuned up and synced to the amplifiers, so switching out guitars now would have put undue stress on the sound crew. She was excited to get her first real taste of the limelight, but she could hear the restlessness of the crowd. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. What was she doing here? And why did she always do exactly what Trey wanted her to do? She couldn’t even get mad at him about it. Not when she so eagerly did his bidding and then benefited from his happiness. Because a happy Trey was a generous Trey.
Trey rubbed her back and smiled at her. “You ready?”
“Are you sure about this? I don’t know ‘Betrayed’ very well. It hasn’t been out very long.”
“You played it perfectly five minutes ago.”
Yeah, but there hadn’t been forty-thousand eyeballs on her five minutes ago. Rebekah gave them their cue to enter the stage, and Trey gave Reagan an encouraging squeeze before he climbed the steps and crossed the stage to its far side. Jace gave her a set of knuckles in the shoulder and followed Trey. Sed, who stood behind her, nudged her toward the stage. She found the taped X on the stage where she was supposed to stand in front of Brian’s stomp pad. She knew the notes but had no idea which amplifier she was supposed to switch to and when. This was going to be a disaster. Trey owed her a lot more than a session with his talented tongue to make up for this.
Eric thudded the bass drum and Reagan jumped as if it was a shotgun blast. Jace’s bass line entered and she found proper fingering on the strings of Brian’s guitar. Her head started swimming and she realized she had forgotten to breathe. She gasped for air and played the first chord. Bright lights hit her in the face and she winced, but she somehow kept playing. She’d been fooling herself into thinking she was half as good as Master Sinclair. Every slight variation in tone made her cringe. No one else seemed to notice. The crowd, what little of it she could see with the blinding lights in her face, was enthusiastic for the music. They didn’t seem to notice that someone else was playing the role of their favorite guitarist. Sed entered the stage and the audience roared their approval. He paced the stage as he sang, lifting his hands to the roof and getting the crowd to mimic his motions.
Reagan glanced across the stage at Trey, who nodded at her in encouragement with a huge smile on his face. Okay, this wasn’t so bad. She could do this. Her eyes began to adjust to the bright lights, but the heat coming off them was brutal. Sweat slickened her lower back and the nape of her neck. When the solo approached, she wasn’t sure if she should mimic Brian and head for the ego riser at the front of the stage or just stay put and hope the crowd didn’t notice Brian had sprung a set of boobs since his last performance.
Trey headed for the front of the stage and nodded his head in that direction to get Reagan’s feet moving from where they’d rooted themselves into the stage. She stubbed her toe on a foot pedal but somehow managed not to fall flat on her face as she joined Trey on the ego riser. He leaned against her, just as he did when he played with Brian, and an undeniable connection flowed between them. She’d never experienced anything like it. The feeling of oneness was even more pronounced than the one she felt when they made love. She closed her eyes and let the music carry her away with Trey. She might have been lost in that sweet nirvana forever if a shoe hadn’t whacked her dead in the forehead. She faltered and stepped back off the riser instinctually. If Sed hadn’t been there to steady her, she would have fallen on her ass. She finished the solo near the back of the stage. Getting hit with a shoe had hurt, but more than that, she felt utterly humiliated. Someone nudged her arm and she opened her eyes to Trey’s concerned expression.
“Are you okay?” he mouthed.
She didn’t know. She’d suffered far worse injuries falling off skateboards, but this had stung more than her pain receptors. It had stung her pride. The fans didn’t want to listen to her play. She didn’t blame them. And she was certain Exodus End’s fans would react the same way when they saw her trying to replace Max.
The song ended and, without waiting for instructions or looking at anyone, Reagan removed Brian’s guitar. She handed it to Jake on her way backstage. She could hear Sed talking to the crowd, but she wasn’t really interested in his words. He said something about kicking the ass of whoever threw that shoe. And a bright new talent in the guitar world. Someone to watch out for. Someone to throw shoes at, he meant.
She’d almost made it to the door that led to the dressing rooms backstage when Brian burst through the door and she staggered backwards. He steadied her with both hands.
“They actually started without me? I can’t fucking believe this,” he said.
“You have nothing to worry about, Master Sinclair. Your adoring audience awaits,” she said and jerked out of his grip before racing to Sinners’ empty dressing room.
She went straight for her cell phone and dialed Ethan. He was there. He was always there. He listened to her tirade about the entire incident from before the show until the instant she’d called him. And then he listened to the confession of her fears. And then her discourse of self-pity. And finally her indignation at being treated that way for doing someone a favor. After she’d unloaded all of her feelings, Ethan said, “Are you ready to give up and come home then?”
“No, I’m not ready to come home. You don’t think one little catastrophe is going to make me give up this dream, do you?”
“Nope, but with all that bitching, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about what you wanted.”
She wished he was there so she could glare at him. “I just needed someone to talk to.”
“And where is that wonderful boyfriend of yours?”
“He’s onstage right now.”
“Does he know you call me every time you have a problem?”
“If you don’t want me to call you anymore, I won’t.”
“I do want you to call me, Reagan. I just wondered if he knew.”
“When he’s around, the last thing on my mind is my stupid little problems.”
“And the first thing on your mind?”
She grinned to herself. “His tongue.”
Ethan chuckled. “I bet. So other than getting hit with a shoe, how is everything going? Are you learning how to be a rock star?”
“Not a very good one,” she admitted.
