Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (60 page)

“What are we going to do?” There was no doubt in her own mind of whose child she was—although sometimes she wondered how she could be Henni’s! But Tyler… She felt a connection to Tyler Conterra with every cell in her body. Maybe that surety is why her mind tacked off the main problem to what should have been the miniscule. “I don’t need this kind of publicity after that damn sex video!”

“Scarlette, I want to tell you something. You should know. The sex video. He did it.”

“Ketchum did it?”

“He was following you looking for an opportunity to hit you up for money and took that opportunity instead. Then I guess that was easy enough money, and he turned paparazzi full time.”

“How do you know this?”

“He told me when he came to Belize. He wanted ten thousand dollars to hold him off from asking you for money until you and I talked. I said no, and he bragged how much he made from the video and threatened to do something like that again. So I gave him five to leave you alone. Now I’ve been talking to a friend who is a lawyer. He thinks―”

“Stop!” Scarlette knew Logan had to be wondering where she was as she had slowed to barely rolling along her neighborhood streets with Henni behind her. “I can’t believe you’ve fucked this up like this!”

“I’m the victim! And I’m trying to fix it so we never see him again! The lawyer says―”

Scarlette jabbed the ‘call end’ button, becoming aware of just how many times her mother had driven her to the breaking point of hanging up. Drawing in deep breaths, she tried to compose herself as she was dangerously near tears. Too much drama had been crammed into a very short time span.

When they reached her house, she waved to Logan who was a shadow inside his car lit by his phone screen. Before she put her own phone away, she texted her mother that she needed some thinking time and asked her to stay at a hotel.

Instead of joining Logan inside his car, she watched her mother drive away and leaned into the window on the driver’s side. “I’m not feeling up to going out after all. Come up and we’ll order pizza or Chinese or something?”

“Sure. If takeout is what you want on your graduation night, takeout you get.”

When the food arrived, she only picked at it while picking at her guitar. The conversation with Ketchum only stopped replaying in her mind when the conversation with her mother went on repeat.

For some reason, the personal confessions Henni had shared niggled at her more than some of the broader ones. The slight change in her mom’s voice tone when she spoke of Tyler being unfaithful on tour began to eat at her more than the enormous sum she must have paid out to a seedy extortionist.

Fuckin’ rock stars. Why were they so fucked up?

To think since the day trip to Dallas she had seriously contemplated the life of a career musician for herself. To think every night before she drifted to sleep she contemplated making up with Gage.

Her fingers dwindled and the melody slowed. Logan began stacking the trash and offered to put the leftovers away.

“You want to take them home? I don’t think they’ll hold out until the end of the summer.”

He threw her a sheepish look. “It doesn’t seem real yet that you’ll be gone so long.”

She set the guitar aside and stood. Rounding the sofa table, she moved close. “Doesn’t seem real to me either.” Resting her palms on his shoulders, she tipped her head back, locking gazes. “Will you text me every day?”

“You know I will.” His bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top. She’d always found it sexy, especially when he smiled as he did now.

“Will you sext me?” Going up on her tiptoes, she whispered the inquiry against his lips.

He wasted no time kissing her. She was enjoying the glide of his tongue against hers when she realized he hadn’t answered. No matter. It had been a rhetorical question. A foreplay of words.

She was taking him to bed tonight. ‘No’ was not an option. She wanted her head clear of rock stars, and fathers, and rock star fathers. The kiss progressed into the next few minutes. She tugged the hem of his shirt from his dress pants and tunneled her fingers beneath the fabric to trace his chiseled abs. The continued fusion of their lips soon had them both panting. When his hands heated the skin beneath her shirt and dipped into her bra, she skimmed one of hers down the front of his slacks.

Encouraged by his groan of pleasure, she fumbled with the unfamiliar fly. The moment it parted open, he stilled. “This isn’t a good idea. You’re leaving for a long time.”

“So? That’s why we should. I’ve wanted you a long time. Haven’t you wanted me?”

“Yeah.”

Why did his affirmation sound like an admission of guilt she’d dragged from the depths of his soul?

“I’m not trying to trap you with sex into a long distance relationship, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking that.”

“So?” She clasped her fingers at the nape of his neck and used the traction to lift her lips to his again. “Let’s
do
this.”

Gripping her forearms, he pushed down, breaking her embrace. “I can’t.”

Suddenly only one scenario made sense. “Are you gay?” And yet if he were, why was he responding so heatedly any time they started something?

“No!”

“Married?”

“No!” His expression seemed tormented. “Do you really think I’d string you along if…” And then she saw something suspiciously like guilt glaze his gaze. “I can’t do this. I like you. So much.” So quick, she didn’t have time to turn away—because she would have—he kissed her. “Take care on tour. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Religious?

The speculation came after she’d been staring at the closed door for a minute or two.

Deep down though, she knew. It was Gage. Whether Logan was extremely loyal or he was afraid of losing his job, she was positive it all came down to Gage. She hurled food into the trash and carried it out, washed the last of the laundry and dishes, and packed with a furious fervor.

Before falling into bed, she showered, positioning the spray of the water just so. Closing her eyes tightly, she imagined the fuller bottom lip. But as always happened, whether her illusion was Logan, her hot chemistry partner, or her latest celebrity crush, it was an engaging sexy pout, lengthy layers of tousled hair, inked up skin, and long, strong talented fingers that pervaded while her quiet moans echoed in the closed space.

“T
his place is a pigsty. Dammit get the clothes outta the floor!” Gage never stopped wiping down the bathroom as he yelled from it into the main area of the bus.

Landon, his least favorite of the Rattler clan yelled back, his voice carrying over the explosions of the game onscreen. “Why? It’s that chick’s job. Tomorrow’s Monday. She’ll clean.”

How these Neanderthals had managed to secure travel options for a shared personal assistant slash maid slash whore—yeah she fucked them too—he had no idea. This tour wasn’t the size of Fire Flight’s last few, and they’d only had room for essential crew—managers, tech, and their one luxury had been a chef. Damn but a chef was a wet dream now after weeks of fast food and roach coach catering.

“She shouldn’t have to pick your shit up off every surface before cleaning it.” Gage tossed the scummy paper towels he’d been cleaning with into the wastebasket and washed his hands. Stepping into the galley, he grabbed a few clean squares to dry with.

“Wait!” Landon threw the game controller aside the moment the game ended. And he had the attention of the rest of the band when he dramatically jumped to his feet. “I get what’s going on. This bitch arriving today… She’s the one in your video… The famous chick…”

“Scarlette Conterra.” One of the other guys supplied.

“Yeah. Her! The sister or something he banged! I just put that together.”

As they mumbled on, he tuned them out for their own protection. He was managing his anger better these days. These guys still being alive was a testament of that fact.

The bus was currently parked at the venue where they would be playing a show in approximately eight hours. They had checked out of the hotel, had lunch, and were now killing time. He was excited that Scarlette would be with them once they began rolling again. However, he was not looking forward to sleeping on the road, and he wondered how she was going to handle it. That was another thing different about this tour. Hotel nights only happened a couple of times a week. With Fire Flight, they’d slept in a comfortable bed at least five nights out of seven.

Rattler was a talented band, but instead of being happy to be a part of it, these inconveniences made it easy to feel sorry for himself for being downgraded from a headlining band to a supporting band.

“…The chick from the video? She’s the one joining the tour?”

The inquiry sounded far too eager. He went to the back room for his shoes with the intention of getting away from this conversation before he went off on them.

“…Yeah. To babysit Landon’s ass.”

“Happy to let her babysit my
ass
…”

Okay. That was fuckin’ it. He jerked at his shoestrings and imagined how purple Landon’s face would be while being choked in about ten seconds. The rap on the door had him pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. Yep. It could be Scarlette already if she was running slightly early. Jumping to his feet, he sprinted down the narrow aisle between the bunks ready to save her from the obnoxious men of Rattler when she entered.

“Damn… You lied, Landon. Wrong girl…” Disappointment dripped from their bassist’s words just as not Scarlette, but Allison ascended the stairs and came into view.

Her gaze was unsure as it bounced around the bus interior, skittering from one of his bandmates to the next. But when her thickly charcoal lined eyes landed on his face, she grinned, held her arms wide, and hurled herself at him. “Surprise!”

Ahh fuck
.

“Yeah. Surprise is right…” Ignoring the scrutiny of his bandmates, he held still for her kiss of greeting and then gently set her away. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.” He grabbed his pass and they debarked the bus. It was always a relief to close the door, even temporarily from the other guys. Outside was a hive of activity, and he scanned the area for a place to speak in private. “How’d you get back here, anyway?” She was the only person in the vicinity without a laminated card attached to a lanyard swinging with each step.

“How do you think?” Pushing her shoulders back, she proudly gave her titties a shake.

“Right.” Reaching out, he tugged her to a stop behind one of the line haulers without a hive of activity around it. Watching the handoff of a tour case to a pusher, he pondered his next words. “Alli, you should’ve texted or called. You can’t just show up like this. In fact, we agreed to only a couple of shows.”

“I miss you though.”

And I miss you
. He stopped the sweet-talking lie right before it left his lips. Obviously, he needed to be firmer—probably even a dick, to keep her at a bearable distance. “Then call me. Like I said. Don’t drop in. This is a tour, not a party.”

“I do call you. And you don’t call back.”

“Because I’m busy. I’m working. This is work. I’m either doing a show or sleeping.”
Or cleaning the blasted bus!

“The pics you’re posting look like you’re partying.” Her perfectly outlined lips mashed together.

Seeing the spark of accusation in her eyes and knowing the pictures she spoke of, he knew she was doing an admirable job of holding back a barrage of bitter words. Still, he deliberately antagonized her. “I don’t have time for this. For you. Here. Now.”

Was that a sheen of tears?
Okay, now he felt shitty.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Assholes didn’t care when they made a pretty girl cry. They were pricks and eventually the girls got tired of being treated like shit and left. And that’s what he needed. Allison gone.

“I won’t get in the way. I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Damn it! Why are you making this so hard? “You need to leave. Not tomorrow. Now.”

“Are you cheating on me? Is there someone else in there?” Turning her chin toward the bus, she brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes.

“How could I be cheating? We talked about when I’m on the road. Right?” She nodded, and again he snapped his emotionless shield in place and forced ugly words out. “What happens on tour isn’t any of your business.”

“And I’m supposed to just sit back in L.A. alone while you stick your dick in every pussy you see? That’s bullshit.”

Yeah. It is. Don’t take that shit. Tell the asshole loser musician it’s over!
“It’s not bullshit. It’s how this arrangement works. I do what I want. And you better not fuck around.”

“I hate you.”

He didn’t care, and suddenly it bothered him that he didn’t. That he’d had sex with and slept with this woman exclusively for more than a few months now, and he’d developed no feelings for her. He wasn’t a monster though. The stricken gleam in her eyes was almost his undoing. She’d put up with him—his new kinks, his seclusion in his studio, and his moods. On her part, she was more than everything a girlfriend should be. For a second, he pitied her ever meeting him. Instead of reaching to comfort her, he rested a hand on the trailer just to the side of her head and leaned in. “If you don’t like it, pack your shit and leave. There’s another one just like you in line.”