Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (62 page)

“Not attack. Not really. It was scary. And he stole the money from my purse. But not attack―”

“What! He mugged you?”

“Not mugged―”

“You call the police?”

“No.”

She’d expected him to explode here, but he nodded, seemingly in understanding. And of course, he did relate because of all he’d been through. Protect your name from the press was the name of the A-List game.

“There’s no way you’re this asshole’s kid. You know that. Right?” His voice was low, and she turned from his gentle regard to keep from throwing herself in his comforting arms.

Outside the dark tinted windows, afternoon was dimming into evening. The glow of lights was just becoming noticeable in the shadows. “I know.” She spoke to the window. “But I want to do a test anyway if it’s possible.”

“Call my dad. He’ll know where to start.”

She nodded. Behind her, he moved, and her body automatically shivered when she realized he’d scooted closer. His arms encircled her, and relenting, she let her head drop to his shoulder.

“It’s gonna work out okay, Scar.”

Inhaling, she breathed in a long whiff of him—a mixture of soap, sweat, and a trace of… was it lemon cleaner? Moving her head a tad until the tips of his hair layers brushed the skin of her forehead, she closed her eyes, pretending for the next few seconds he was hers in some form or fashion. Brother… Boyfriend… It didn’t matter. As long as it was the two of them against the world.

G
age Remington was a rock god.

From her position side stage, Scarlette concluded the obvious at some point during every show. Rattler was good—a better than average band well on their way to stardom. But Gage stood out among them with a charisma rivaling that of their vocalist. Maybe it was because Gage really was first and foremost a vocalist and relegating him to a supporting position in a band didn’t hide his inborn nature.

Bobbing her head to the music, she divided her attention between him and the crazed fans thrashing to the songs. Watching him made her hot, and she savored the fire kindling inside her ‘tunnel of love.’ Later, after the show, she would cool down. Watching practically naked females throw themselves at him during the parties afterward always ignited a new heat, and the burn of jealousy helped her forget how horny she was for him.

The melody climbed into a crescendo and then dropped. Right on cue, Gage jumped in with his guitar solo. His wrist raced along the frets and his fingers skipped on the strings. Step by step, he backed up until he was even with her, and although he never looked at her, she knew he’d purposefully stopped near her. The solo ended, and he hopped back to the front of the stage, putting his mouth to the mike as he added backup vocals to the next verse.

Maybe during the gigs, seeing him in his element injected her with a giant dose of lust. But more than her libido went out of control during these times. Yeah. She still loved him. What she was going to do about it? Well, that was a question she continued to push to the back of her mind.
Damn fucking rock stars.

Lifting her hand, she rerouted a strand of hair blown into her face by the giant fans positioned behind the Jumbotron screens. The sun baked the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, but the band and those viewing from the stage were shaded from the harsh day.

After the final song on their set-list, the guys exited the stage and departed into their dressing area. She stopped to refill her canteen at a nearby water station and considered roaming the festival grounds. Rattler had rolled into the talent gate within minutes of their pre-show interviews, and she had remained nearby, enjoying watching them. Now was her chance to explore the festival the guys had been talking non-stop about for two days. They were to be on the road again in several hours.

Rattler had begun their tour in early April, warming up as the supporting act in arenas across the country. Around the time she had joined them, summer’s outdoor music festivals had begun. As a relatively new band making a name for themselves, they were still playing indoor gigs in between the major festivals they performed. So, while many of this day’s lineup would head to a hotel after their show, Rattler’s tour bus would be eating up the road stripes with the band snug inside.

“Hey!” Gage’s hail was close enough to her ear to startle her.

She turned, finding him showered. His dark wet hair was brushed back from his face, and the wavy strands gleamed, just touching the shoulders of a black tee imprinted with the ‘U’ festival logo.

A familiar flutter tickled her insides. “Hey.”

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” Sexy and sweet, the inquisitive taunt rolled from his tongue, and one of his dark brows arched.

“Over there.” Her arm gestured vaguely, and she was happy when he fell into step beside her.

“What’s over there?”

“No idea. But whatever it is will be amazing! It has to be. Because this is Ultima!” She curved a smile to accompany the mocking lilt of her voice, and sent a side-glance up to his face. “Where do you think you’re running off to? Don’t you have band stuff to do?”

“Now that’s hurtful. Almost like you want to get rid of me.”

“If I did want to get rid of you, I’d try harder.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” They were weaving through the crowd, and she used the mass of bodies to demonstrate. Two steps to the right, and several more forward, put distance and a dozen people between them.

With a gleeful grin, she turned back, only to find her joke had worked too well. He was gone! And Gage with his giraffe stature should have been easy for her to spot. She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until her elbows were jostled as the crowd parted and then closed around her. Craning her head, she searched, and her spirits plummeted to find herself surrounded only by strange faces. Her gaze hung for a moment on every black tee shirt with a psychedelic ‘U,’ but these shirts were liberally mixed in with costumes and vibrant attire.  

An odd tingle vibrated her cells, and she shook the feeling away. Should she head back the way she’d come, or continue? The aroma of food made up her mind. She rotated away from the stage, ready to fall back into the throng, but a rock solid chest brought her up short.

Barbed wire entwined in staff lines and a smatter of music notes peeked at her from the V-neck of the black Ultima tee. She was encircled with familiarly inked arms when she wobbled. “Looking for someone?” The brightness of the day allowed her a tinted glimpse behind Gage’s shades to his amused eyes.

Continuing to crane her neck, she didn’t break the gaze. “I was looking for an asshole. But I found him.”

“Ouch! You’re so mean today! Why are you so mean, Scarlette Conterra?” His voice dropped on the last sentence, enough that it was an intimate question between the two of them.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night.” She aimlessly followed the main path. “The person in the bunk below me snores too loud.”

She and Gage were positioned one over the other. Her first night on tour, Gage had offered her his lower bunk, but she’d declined, knowing she’d feel less claustrophobic in the top one.

Gage reached, and she automatically passed her container of water. After taking a long sip, he drawled, “You never complained about snoring before.”

No? Maybe snoring was way better tolerated when the snorer was a naked mass of muscled flesh spooning me
.

The internal thought had her face flaming. Had he said that purposely to take her thoughts to him in her bed? Of course he had. Although he’d been a total gentleman in the short time she’d been back in his company, she hadn’t missed the longing in his looks.

“Hey guys. Scarlette!” Landon edged his way in between the two of them. “I’m dying for some chicken wings. Please say they’re on my diet.”

One of the things she’d done was put the guys all on a healthy diet. Food derivatives were a direct effect on mood and energy level. It was her hope that a happy and energetic musician wouldn’t crave a chemical alternative on the side.

“They’re not. Not these anyway. But eat up and be sure to drink the smoothie mix when you get back to the bus.”

“Thank you! Thank you. I LOVE you, Scarlette.” Landon engulfed her body in a boisterous embrace, and she saw Gage’s jaw tighten as if he were gritting his teeth. But to his credit, he said nothing and his bandmate disappeared into the crowd unharmed.

They caught part of a show. Ate very unhealthily themselves. Took a stroll through a misting station when they became too hot. Refilled her water canteen and shared it. Dipped into an air-conditioned dance tent, and even danced in a group who waved a totem with a sign perched atop it. ‘If you’re lost, stay and dance with us.’

Dark had descended, and the party had become a colorful glow when she and Gage got the text to return to the bus. They stood for a moment, getting their bearings. Neither of them had downloaded the festival app to their phone, which included a map tracker.

“This way.” She concluded after her thought process.

“Uh Uh. This way.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her back before the crowd swallowed her up.

A lick of liquid heat shot from her palm, up her arm and then somehow shot sideways to explode in fireworks in her belly.

“Sure?” Restraining the urge to snatch her hand from his grasp, and another equally strong compulsion to yank at his hand and pull them even closer, she tried to look casually around and control any quake in her voice. As casually as possible, she disengaged from him and pointed to a monstrous structure of colored lights. “There’s the Kruell stage. So that would mean―”

“You’re right. Absolutely. That way.” He pointed to the way she’d been headed before he’d closed those long talented fingers around her hand.

The bus was a dark hulk with blue running lights in the lighted parking area. The lot had been full this afternoon when the driver had eased into their designated space. Now there were empty spaces, as well as new neighboring buses. As they approached, the door burst open, and to a backdrop of light, two giggling groupie-looking girls spilled down the steps, and behind them, the door closed again.

“Well?” One asked once they had put a short distance between them and the bus. And the other giggled again. “I’ve had better. You?” Another drunken titter. “Definitely.”

Mutually, Gage and Scarlette used a luxury RV for cover until the girls passed, and then together they burst out laughing.

Two of the guys were sprawled in the back area, setting up the video game system. When one greeted them with “Hey, you just missed the party!” Scarlette and Gage dissolved into laughter again.

“What?”

“Nothing. We saw your party.”

“And why’s that funny?”

“It’s not.” Scarlette interjected before Gage could say something that would start a fight. “It’s just when we saw them, I said to Gage, ‘Aw, we missed the party.’”

Behind her, Gage was ransacking the fridge, and he snorted, drawing suspicious frowns from his bandmates. Thankfully, the door burst open and Landon stumbled in with a “Honey, I’m home!”

“Fuck! What’s that smell?” Gage scrunched his face and Scarlette held back a gag.

Ignoring the way they skirted out of his way, Landon sauntered to the fridge and it was then the muddy-looking streaks on the backside of his jeans were revealed. Bending for a moment, he selected a covered tumbler and straightened, holding the smoothie up for Scarlette’s approval.

“Yeah. Good boy.” She praised, deliberately, as if he were a puppy. But curiosity got the better of her. “What the hell is that on your jeans?”

“My jeans?” He poked a straw into his cup, took a long pull of the drink, and looked down his front.

When she directed him with a finger to turn and he continued to look confused, Gage chimed in. “Backside, dude.”

Comprehending, at last, he arched and immediately began to gag. The smoothie dropped from his hand, barely righting itself on the table, while Landon unzipped. The two gamers, drawn by the fanfare, appeared, just as Landon stripped the jeans off right there in the tiny kitchen. Still gagging, he raced for the door, ripped it open, tossed the garment out, and pulled the door closed again.

“What! What the hell?” They all echoed some version of the same sentiment.

“Banged this chick in the porta potty.” Landon’s confession was sheepish. He closed himself in the bathroom. The sound of the shower running didn’t cover his retching.

“Scar, my darlin’.” Gage set his own smoothie in the sink. “That pretty much killed the smoothie for me. Forevermore.”

The bus soon settled down and they were on the road. She dumped extra sanitizer down the toilet, splashed it around the bathroom, and tried not to think that less than an hour ago the guy who had been covered in strangers’ shit had showered and puked in this small space. She tried not to remember that Jax had offered her a choice of travel arrangements, and she had chosen the band bus.

Gage was sitting at the table when she emerged in her comfy clothes—yoga pants and a large long-sleeved tee. His features were intent and his attention was on the screen of his phone. She knew that look. He was composing lyrics.