Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (7 page)

It was no ordinary bus!  It was, in fact, nicer than most houses I had seen.  It even had a fireplace inside and, as one of Brandon’s bandmates casually informed me, they were looking into whether it would be feasible to install a hot tub on the roof.  I was pretty much left speechless.

Brandon had three bandmates and they all seemed nice, if not a bit quirky.  One was covered in tattoos.  Another seemed to be a bit of a conspiracy theorist and spent a good ten minutes talking my ear off about crop circles as we drove through the countryside.  The third was a dark and brooding type – at first I thought he didn’t like me but then Brandon whispered that he was like that with everyone.

It wasn’t the bandmates who really caught my attention, though.  It was the women.

There were six of them – four busty blondes and two brunettes who all looked like they could be supermodels.  All six of the women were wearing a ton of makeup and jeans so tight it was a wonder they didn’t split.  I felt underdressed, inadequate and out of place.

Or at least I did until one of the women approached me and exclaimed, “I love your sweater!  Where did you get it?” 

I looked down at the soft white cashmere sweater I had on.  “Uh, I’m not actually sure,” I admitted.  “Brandon had it sent to my room early this morning.” 

He had, in fact, arranged to have an entire rack full of clothes delivered to my hotel room shortly before we had hit the road, allowing me to pick out whatever I wanted.  The gesture had made me feel special, like I was royalty.  I still couldn’t get used to the way he doted on me.

Brandon seemed to love spoiling me at every opportunity, and yet I could tell he wasn’t trying to show off.  He just seemed to like doing nice things for me.

I’d opted to wear the cashmere sweater and a simple but stylish grey skirt.  The outfit fit me like a glove, clinging to my body in all the right places.  For once, I didn’t feel self conscious.  Instead, I felt like a million bucks.  And speaking of money, I had a feeling that one outfit probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back home!

As the concept of “home” crossed my mind, I let out a deep, involuntary sigh.  It was hard to think of Carl’s place as home.  The longer I was away, the less it felt that way.  In fact, maybe it had never felt like home.  What was home supposed to feel like, anyway?

“Um, are you alright?” the pretty blonde asked. 

That was when I realized she had been talking to me while I had been lost in thought.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’re Brandon’s girlfriend.  He never has girlfriends or even one night stands, as far as I know.  And God knows lots of girls have tried to get with him!” she laughed.  Then, perhaps seeing my wide eyed stare, she quickly added, “I’m not one of them, though, so don’t worry.  Mike over there is my guy,” she said, pointing to the man with all the tattoos.

“What about the other women?” I asked, noting that two of them were now perched atop the crop circle enthusiast’s lap giggling and flirting.

The blonde woman shrugged.  “They’re groupies,” she told me.  “A couple of them are longstanding ones – they follow the band around from show to show and basically provide, uh, comfort, I guess you’d say?”

“You don’t mean...?” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” she replied, chuckling at my incredulous reaction.  “Every single tour, from start to finish, those women are around.  The others come and go.  If they have the right look, they get invited onto the tour bus and maybe stay for a day or two.  Then it’s onto a new town and, well, into a new woman.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, feeling naive.  “How can those women afford to follow the band around for entire tours?  Don’t they have jobs?”

“Well I can’t speak for every woman, but let’s just say those two over there make a career of being groupies.  They’re two of the favorites and the guys are more than happy to shower them with money and gifts to keep them around.  It’s easier than keeping a girlfriend happy I guess,” she shrugged.  “Poor Mike,” she added with a laugh.

“But you said Brandon doesn’t do that?” I asked again, wanting reassurance. 

Suddenly I was beginning to question everything, afraid that I had been too quick to trust the first guy who had treated me like an actual human being worthy of respect.  His generosity hadn’t had an ulterior motive, had it? 

“No, Brandon isn’t like the other guys,” the woman assured me.  “Neither is Mike,” she added.  “They don’t do that.  That’s why I asked if you’re Brandon’s girlfriend – I was surprised to see you here because he never brings girls onto the bus.”

“Oh.”

“So are you Brandon’s girlfriend?” she asked again with a sly grin.

That was a good question.  It was a very good question. 

I wanted to say yes because I desperately wanted it to be true.

But even though we’d shared a few moments – or at least I thought we had – Brandon and I hadn’t even kissed.  So that pretty much meant the answer was a big fat no, didn’t it?

“We’re just friends,” I replied, trying to sound upbeat about it.

“Oh.  That’s too bad.  You seem nice and God knows Brandon could use a good woman in his life after all the craziness.  But hey, friends are good too.”

That caught my attention and piqued my curiosity.  I assumed the life of a famous musician with hoards of screaming fans must be pretty crazy in general.  Was that what she was talking about, or was she referring to something more specific? 

Just as I opened my mouth to ask, Mike walked over.  “Can I steal her away for a bit?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied, because what else was I going to say?

“Nice talking to you!” she said to me as she took Mike’s hand and began to walk to the far end of the tour bus.  Then, with a toss of her blonde hair, she looked back over her shoulder at me.  “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around here!” she called out with a smile.

I hoped the same thing.

*****

“Did sound check bore you to death?” Brandon asked me later that afternoon.  We’d arrived at our destination - a huge stadium – and the band had immediately gone to work preparing for that night’s show.  I had sat on the sidelines quietly watching, taking it all in. 

“No, it was fine,” I replied.  “Don’t worry about me!  Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“When you guys started to play that one song?  The one that’s like...well, I’m not going to try to imitate it,” I decided, laughing self consciously.  “But I’m pretty sure I recognized it.  I’ve heard it on the radio in the diner before.  So I
do
know your music!”

Brandon groaned. 

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked in confusion.

“No.  I don’t know.  Just don’t change on me, okay?”

“Uh...okay.”

“Do you want to go back to the hotel for a while?” Brandon asked.  “We can’t really go out anywhere due to security concerns – which
sucks –
but maybe we can watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds nice.”

“Okay, cool.”  Brandon hesitated and then said, “I don’t want to sound presumptuous but if you want to come to the show tonight you’re more than welcome.  If you’re not interested that’s fine too,” he added quickly, giving me an out.

“Are you kidding?  Of course I want to come to your show!” I exclaimed, and then inwardly kicked myself, hoping I hadn’t sounded overly enthusiastic like one of the crazy screaming fangirls Brandon was constantly having to run from. 

Clearing my throat, I casually admitted, “I’ve actually never been to a concert before.”

“Never?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Whoa.  Well I apologize that your first ever show will be one of mine,” he joked.  “On my next night off we’ll have to see who’s in town playing and go to a real concert.”

“Yours isn’t a real concert?” I asked.

He shrugged, looking equal parts uncomfortable and nostalgic.  “In the beginning, playing shows was fun.  It was such a rush!  And the music was authentic.  Once we blew up and got famous, everything became about money.  We’re sellouts.  I mean, thirteen year olds have posters of us in their bedrooms,” he said, making a face.  “I still don’t know how to feel about that.  It’s weird.”

“Well I’m still really excited to see you play tonight,” I told him.

“Are you going to throw your panties onstage?” Brandon asked.

I stared at him blankly.

“Joking,” he reassured me.  “Sorry, bad joke.”

“Does that actually happen?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Unfortunately, yes, it has happened.  How did that trend even start?  I mean, on what planet is that a good idea?  I guess it’s supposed to be hot, but it so isn’t.  I’ve gotta say, being hit in the face mid-song with a stranger’s underwear is pretty gross.”

“I can’t even imagine living your life,” I told him.  “It all sounds so insane!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied as we made our way out of the stadium and into the black SUV that was waiting for us out back.  “It isn’t anything like I imagined it would be.  Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life.”

“I think I know the feeling,” I replied as Brandon opened the SUV door for me, my thoughts momentarily turning back to what I’d left behind.  Without even intending to I sighed.  It was a deep, defeated sounding noise that made my shoulders heave.

“What’s wrong?” Brandon asked, catching the tail end of my sigh as he crawled in next to me.  As Steve and a driver got into the front, we lowered our voices to keep the conversation between us.  I didn’t think the two men were paying attention anyway – they seemed to be having a rather spirited and intense conversation about football.

“Oh I was just thinking that I have a lot of decisions to make and a lot of things to figure out,” I told Brandon, buckling up my seatbelt and glancing out the window at unfamiliar surroundings.  “I still can’t believe I walked away from it all.  What am I going to do next?”

“Well tonight you’re going to come to my show,” Brandon replied.  “And after that, you’re going to do whatever the hell you want,” he said with a wink.  “But seriously, try not to worry, okay?  I can appreciate it must be scary to have everything so up in the air right now, but you’re not alone.  I’ve got your back.”

“What you’ve done for me is absolutely amazing,” I told him appreciatively.  “The hotel rooms, the meals, the new clothes – I don’t know how to begin to thank you, Brandon.  But I can’t keep living off your generosity forever.”

“It’s fine by me if you do,” he shrugged.

“Yes but...”

“But what?” he pressed.

How could I explain that I didn’t want to find myself in a situation that resembled the dynamic I’d had with Carl?  I’d had no say in my own life, allowing him to call all the shots because, as he often liked to remind me, it was his house and that meant he made the rules.  He hadn’t treated me like an equal and there had certainly been a lack of respect in our relationship.

Brandon was nothing like Carl.  I understood that.  But I also knew I didn’t want to be in a position where I had to rely on a man ever again.  I wanted to be self-sufficient and in charge of my own destiny.  I wanted to live for myself instead of living to please someone else.  But how could I verbalize that without sounding ungrateful?

Thankfully, I didn’t have to.  It seemed like Brandon could almost read my mind.

“You want to be independent, yeah?” he guessed.  “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Sure.  And I can totally respect that.  But I’d also hate to lose you, Hayley.”

“You would?”

“Having you around is like a breath of fresh air, as cliché as that sounds.  I don’t want to be selfish – it’s your life and your call, obviously.  But is there any way I can convince you to hang out for a bit longer?” he asked hopefully. 

The last thing I wanted was to say goodbye.  I wasn’t ready for that yet – not by a long shot.  But I had unfinished business to take care of, and a whole lot of planning to do. 

“I’ll call Carl when I get to the hotel and see if he’ll send me my stuff,” I told Brandon.

“Most stuff is replaceable,” he pointed out.

“Not Mittens.”

“Who or what is Mittens?”

“My cat,” I replied.  “I’ve had him since I was thirteen.  He was a stray I found hanging around the house and he’s the sweetest thing in the world.  When I moved in with Carl I put my foot down about keeping Mittens.  I’ve only been away for a couple nights and I miss his whiskery little face already.  I need to arrange to get him somehow.”

“Okay, well let me know how I can help.  I can hire someone to drive the cat out here – whatever you want.”  After falling silent for a moment, Brandon added, “I don’t mean to worry you, but is it a good idea for your jackass of an ex to be left to care for a cat?  Or
anything
, for that matter?”

Though I could appreciate Brandon’s concern, I was already shaking my head before he had finished talking.  “If I had any fears about that whatsoever, I wouldn’t have left Mittens behind even for a single night,” I reassured him.  “Carl is a hothead but he’s not abusive.”

“You’re sure?”