Vintage Volume Two (7 page)

I gagged a little just at the thought.

“Want to go to the after party?” Parker asked once we were settled into a comfy leather chair together back in his dressing room.

Vinnie was in a corner shoving his tongue down some woman’s throat. She had far too much cleavage sticking out of her shirt. Fitz and Garrett sat on the couch talking a bit more civilly with some other women. They seemed interested in conversation, at least, but Vinnie made it pretty clear what he wanted. I glanced over in the corner, and his hand had was grappling with her breast. He really was kind of a scumbag.

“If you do,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice that I didn’t really feel. I wasn’t sure why, but I had a bad feeling about the after party.

“Then let’s get drunk and have some fun. George is here, Bruno is around somewhere. We’ll be safe.”

I nodded. “Sounds fun,” I said, not really meaning it. But I’d prevented Parker from enough fun on this tour. It was the last night. He deserved the celebration and the chance to blow off some steam after a stressful few weeks.

Parker got up and headed over to a counter stocked with bottles and cans and liters. He poured a generous amount of whiskey into one cup and a generous amount of vodka into another. He splashed some soda in each and brought me a vodka mixed with a few drops of Sprite.

I tapped my red Solo cup against his, and we each took a sip. He grinned at me as I winced at the strength of alcohol in my drink, but as soon as I took my third or fourth sip, it didn’t seem as strong. I felt the warmth begin to spread through my system.

I heard some noise in the hallway outside of the Flashing Light dressing room, indicating to me that my dad’s set was done. It was nearly time to get ready to leave, but the warmth of the vodka in my chest was preventing me from wanting to move from my spot in the chair next to Parker.

I felt his lips press to my temple, and the warmth in my chest blossomed to my entire torso. Alcohol always managed to intensify feelings, but it was the love I felt for him without the liquor that was diffusing through my system.

Before I knew it, Parker was standing and pulling me to my feet. My dad always treated on the last night of the tour, and that night was no exception. As we walked out behind the venue toward our buses, a line of SUV limousines waited for the members of Flashing Light, Pure Adrenaline, and Black Shadow—plus their guests, of course.

We’d missed the fireworks lighting up the night sky on the Fourth of July, but I was happy as long as my hand was clutched in Parker’s.

Parker and I were sharing a car with Fitz, Garrett, and Vinnie. All three men had also brought along the women they’d been talking to. I was shocked that Vinnie hadn’t ditched the blonde he’d been making out with in favor of hooking up with someone new at the bar, but I supposed he’d already gotten his start with this one. Considering she’d watched him up on that stage, and he’d be relatively unknown at the bar, she was probably his best bet.

I glanced around the limo. It held bench seating across one side of the stretched interior, capped at each end with a luxurious looking leather seat. The other side had a long bar that was stocked with beer, wine, champagne, and plenty of spirits.

Parker guided me all the way to the far end, closest to the driver, and the others trailed in behind us. A glass partition separated us from the driver, and I couldn’t help but be thankful that this was my life. I tended to take a lot of my blessings for granted, but for some reason, limousine rides always reminded me what money could do for people.

And then I thought about the fact that Randy was after us, that my dad was in some sort of trouble with him, that my dad married Jadyn and I still didn’t trust her…and I was reminded once again of the downsides to the many blessings we had.

I wished that Parker and I had taken a different car. I liked my time alone with him, and I didn’t like watching Vinnie play his disgusting games despite the vast area of the limo. I snuggled into Parker, who wrapped his arm firmly around my shoulders. I tried to psych myself up for the night ahead. I tried to block out Vinnie and thoughts of Randy and all of the issues that had surrounded us on this tour. I tried to focus on the feel of Parker next to me. I tried to be happy that I didn’t have George or Bruno on my ass for five minutes. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. A sense of foreboding pierced my abdomen.

Parker unwrapped his arm from around me and I sat up, my eyes wide at the fear I felt permeating through me. He left me for just a moment to fix us both a drink. He was only about a foot away from me. He handed me my second vodka drink of the night. This one was as strong as the first, and it lowered my inhibitions just enough to help alleviate some of my anxiety.

We arrived at the bar after about a twenty minute drive. Bourbon Street was only about a four minute drive from the venue, but traffic was heavy. The concert had been over for at least an hour, but fans were insane and waited around long after the show to catch a simple glance of one of the band members. If only they knew that we were headed to a bar just down the street.

Parker’s hand firmly clutched mine as we exited the limo. He only let go to put his arm around my shoulder, and I wasn’t sure if it was a gesture of intimacy or a gesture of protection. It didn’t really matter either way. I liked being cocooned in Parker’s arms.

We headed up some stairs and entered Bourbon Balcony, a bar with an obvious name and a balcony overlooking Bourbon Street. Music pumped through the place, led by a deejay set up on a stage in one corner. The bar was decorated in golds, purples, and greens—Mardi Gras colors—but it was dim inside and more than a little run-down. Rebecca had handled the details for the final after party before she’d taken her leave of absence, and I briefly wondered what had made her choose this particular bar. It was a little shoddy compared to the places my dad usually booked.

I watched as my dad made a beeline for the stage, George following close behind him. He huddled together with the deejay and some other men standing around.

“You want anything?” Parker yelled in my ear over the music.

I shrugged, and he grinned. “Typical.” He grabbed my hand and led me to the bar, where he ordered us each another round.

A mixture of exhaustion and anxiety filtered through me, and I knew taking the drink wouldn’t be a good idea. I wanted to have a good time, but knowing this was our last night and not knowing what awaited me in California the next day was eating away at me.

So I sipped slowly. And, of course, I was teased for it.

“You want me to get you a nipple for that bottle?” Parker asked with a grin as I looked anxiously around the bar, not knowing what exactly I was looking for but sure that there was something.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked when I didn’t respond to his bantering.

I shook my head.

“What’s up?”

I shrugged—not to be a smartass, but because I really didn’t know. I just knew what I felt. “Something feels off.”

“Do you want to leave?”

I shook my head as guilt washed over me. He was so sweet, always looking out for me and giving up anything and everything in order to protect me while he was on tour with one of the biggest bands in the world.

I couldn’t take more from him despite the strange anxiety I felt. “I don’t want to take away the last after party from you. It’s fine.”

“I could not care less about this party. All I care about is you.”

I softened at his kind words—words that were exactly what I needed to hear.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text, and then he grabbed my hand and led me back to the stairwell that took us down to Bourbon Street.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we merged into the throng of people walking one of the most famous streets in America.

I glanced around me. I was young enough that this should have been my scene. Drunk people hung off of balconies, calling down to people on the streets. Others meandered in and out of bars, carrying tall cups of beer or frozen drinks in red, white, and blue glasses a yard tall. Women flashed their tits to men on the balconies to earn themselves a string of plastic beads. Faces were painted with stars and flags.

But instead of getting caught up in the raunchy fun, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I feared Randy and whatever point he was trying to prove. I wasn’t sure that separating ourselves from my dad and his security team was the best idea, but we hadn’t gone far when Parker pulled me into a diner.

It was quiet inside after the madness on the street. Parker pulled down the bill of his Sox cap, presumably to avoid being recognized after playing a huge show that was walking distance from where we stood.

A waitress sat us, and we took a booth in the far corner. We sat together, both of us facing the door, me inside the booth and Parker on the outside. Regardless of what awaited us, I felt his protection. Always.

“You want menus or just drinks?” the waitress asked. I checked her nametag: Tamara.

“Menus,” Parker said. He glanced at me. “What are you drinking?”

“Coke, please.” I smiled at the waitress, and then I watched in disgust while she ogled my boyfriend.

“Coffee.” He kept his attention on his menu and not on the waitress, and I couldn’t help but press myself a little closer into his side.

I glanced up at Tamara and earned myself a little glare. With that move, she managed to score herself a lower tip.

“Cream and sugar?” Tamara asked, her voice suddenly a little more sultry than it had been moments earlier. Why did women feel the need to act like that around men who were clearly in relationships?

I rolled my eyes as Parker answered, and Tamara left to get our drinks.

I flipped through the menu, not looking up. “She wants you.”

He chuckled. “So what? I want you.”

I felt his lips at my temple, once again giving me comfort in only the way he could.

She brought our drinks, and his attention was solely on me. We ordered pancakes, drenched them in syrup, and giggled through our meal, just the two of us. Waitresses named Tamara no longer existed. Randy’s anxiety-inducing presence no longer mattered. Whatever awaited me the next day at home was no longer an issue. It was just Parker and me, my boyfriend and his girlfriend, enjoying a date night together in the middle of Bourbon Street.

Parker paid our bill, and then he sent a text. We had to wait for a reply before he would let me out of the booth.

“Who are we waiting on?” I finally asked on a sigh as I played with the straw in my Coke.

“George.”

“What’s taking him so long?”

Parker shrugged. “His responses are usually immediate.”

Alarm bells sounded in my head. George was always on call. The only reason he would not immediately respond to Parker’s text was if something was wrong. My eyes met Parker’s, and his were as worried as mine. “Try Fitz or something.”

He nodded and punched out another text, and then his phone started ringing a moment later. We both checked his screen. It was Fitz.

“Yeah?” Parker answered.

I tried to listen to the conversation, but the din of the restaurant was too noisy for me to hear Fitz.

“Fuck,” Parker muttered. My blood turned to ice at his reaction. Something was definitely wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it was. He continued his conversation. “We’re at a diner about a block from the bar.”

They finished talking, and I waited patiently for an explanation after he hung up. He turned toward me and lowered his voice.

“You know how you had a weird feeling all night?”

I nodded.

“There was a fight at the bar.”

“Oh my God. Is everyone okay?”

“Fitz said yes. A few bruises, but everyone is okay.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He took a deep breath. “One of Randy’s guys showed up. Sounds like George took care of him.”

“What does that mean?” I shrieked, my hands suddenly shaking at the thought that this huge threat was nearby.

His words were reminiscent of the time someone had been following me and Bruno “took care of him.” I wasn’t sure what it meant then, and I didn’t know what it meant now, either.

“I’m not sure, Jimi. But we’re staying here until I get the all clear.”

“Where is Randy’s guy now?” My voice was still at shriek level, and I wasn’t sure that I was capable of bringing it down to a normal decibel.

He pulled me against him, rubbing soothing circles on my back. He clearly wasn’t sure what to do, but I was pretty sure there was nothing he could do that would make any of this go away.

A text buzzed through Parker’s phone, and a minute later I saw my dad appear in the doorway of the diner. He looked around the place a moment before his eyes landed on mine, and I saw relief pass through his. I also saw a bruise on his cheek and fresh wounds above his eyebrow and on his lip.

He looked rough from across the room. I couldn’t imagine what he looked like up close.

I pushed past Parker and ran to him. People in the diner were starting to recognize him, so we didn’t have much time for a family reunion. He pulled me into his arms, and tears started leaking from my eyes.