For Now (Forever Book 1) (2 page)

Camden

              Look at that
jackass
, at the rate he’s going, tonight could be bad. My father is going to kill me. It is my job to keep Ryder happy, but also keep him in line. That is a fine line to walk when you work for a rock star. 

              I look around the bar and sigh; it is the same thing night after night. Clubs and bars. Though, they all try to be original and have something special, they are all the same. Same dull girls. Same watered-down drinks. Same lame music.

              The club is dark, aside from the steady flash of the strobe lights and the music is earsplitting. This combination is making my head throb. There are desperate girls in tight dresses trying to impress the guys standing at the bar watching them.

              “Yo Cam, come check these girls out.” Ryder yells over the music. I just want to go home and go to bed, since I won’t get to sleep in my own bed for a few months. Ryder’s band, Line 9, is going on tour and it will be tour buses, and the occasional hotel.

              “Don’t you think we should be going home? We have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow before the tour. We leave in two days.”

              “Dude, you mean you have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. You know I hate packing and you’re so much better at it,” he looks at me with a grin because he knows I’ll do it. 

              “Thanks
dude
,” I mumble under my breath and roll my eyes. He doesn’t see because he is back to watching a few girls making out on the dance floor, trying to give him a good show.  I guess this is why he pays me. He is lucky that he happens to be one of my best friends or I would have told him to take this job and shove it a few years ago.  The two of us grew up together; my dad managed his dad’s band when we were kids. His mom and dad were never around, always on a tour or at a party, so he stayed with us a lot. My mom thought of him as one of her own.  Several years later, Ryder has a band of his own and my dad is managing him.  That is how I got stuck with this gig as his bitch. I’m sorry, I meant personal assistant. It isn‘t all bad, I get to see the country and hang out with my best friend, who isn’t always a total jerk.

              A redhead saunters up to Ryder. “Aren’t you Ryder Kinick from Line 9?” she says in her most annoying baby voice. Really? Why do girls think that is so hot? 

              “Yeah, you wanna go somewhere more private?” No way should this line work. I roll my eyes.

              “Sure, let me grab my things,” she purrs. Of course, she went for that, I guess when you are rich and famous, it doesn’t matter how much game you got. He could say “Hey baby, let’s bone” and she would be ready to go to the nearest bathroom for a quickie.

              I trudge through the crowd, towards the exit to get Ryder’s car because I can see that I’m going to be driving Ryder and his groupie to his place tonight and I’ll probably be taking her home in a few hours. Am I ever going to get some sleep?

              I glance back at Ryder, there is a big, bald man heading right for him. Before I have a chance to do anything, Ryder turns to head towards the exit, gets a fist to the jaw and is down on the ground. Oh no, this isn’t good.

              “Where the fuck do you think you are going with my girlfriend,
asshole
?” the man roars.

              Ryder blinks, raises his hand to his mouth, and pulls it away to check for blood. He stands up and then his fists start flying. Ryder is a lot stronger than he looks, he is tall and thin, he looks small compared to my 6’2 230-pound frame, but he is aggressive and knows how to fight dirty.  We were always playing around as kids and trying to kick each other’s asses, I always won of course, but I was able to teach him a lot about how to fight smart. My mom let me take boxing lessons as a kid and I learned a lot.  It came in handy now trying to deal with the crazy ass fans when we are out together.

              ‘Groupie chick’ is flailing her arms around and screaming for them to stop.
Really?
This wouldn’t be happening if she could just keep her legs closed.

              I push my way back to where they are fighting. There is a crowd of gawkers holding out their phones and taking videos of the brawl. When I finally make my way to them, Ryder has the guy on the ground and is pounding his fists into his face. It looks even more violent with the pulsing strobe lights and the flashes of the cameras.
Damn it!
I pull Ryder off him and to his feet.  I have to push him back to few times and tell him to calm down.

              I look back at the guy lying on the ground, there is blood on his face and he isn’t moving.
Shit! Not good.
The redhead decides that even though, she was about to cheat on this guy mere minutes before, she suddenly cares about him and runs to his side.

              Just as I’m about to tell Ryder to go to the car and get my phone to call 911, there is a cop shoving Ryder up against the bar and cuffing him. I look up at all the phones out recording. This will be all over the morning news.

**********

              I wake in the morning to my phone ringing. 
Ugh, what time is it? 
The sky is still dark, though I can see a little light on the horizon. I look at my clock and see it is only 5:45.  I was up until 3:00 talking to my dad and trying to figure out how to handle things. Ryder’s reputation has taken a bad turn with his behavior lately; putting a guy in a coma isn’t going to help.

              “Hello?” I mutter as I put my phone to my ear.

              “You can pick him up at 9:00,” my dad grumbles.

              “Okay, I’ll be there.  Are we still leaving for the tour?” I ask as I get up and find my jeans and pull them on.

              “Yes, but you two will have to be back for his hearing whenever it gets set.  Really, how could you let him do this?  I trusted you to be able to talk him down,” he scolds.

              “Dad, I was going to get the car and the guy came out of nowhere and punched him,” I snap. Now I’m pissed off too.
How is any of this my fault?

              “Just keep a better eye on him for now; I’m working on a strategy to help his persona. I got him a private plane scheduled for today at 1:00. The last thing he needs right now is to be in the tabloids doing anything but helping orphans or feeding the
damn
homeless. He needs to stay out of the spotlight until we figure this out. The rest of the band will meet you there.”

              “Thanks Dad, I’ll try to think of a way to fix this too.”

              He sighs and I know he is rubbing his temples like he used to do when my sister and I were young and we would cause trouble. “I wish he could stop messing around with all the girls. That is what started this whole disaster.  He needs to start thinking with his other head every once in a while. If he could just find a nice girl, and stop being seen with so many of them, the tabloids wouldn’t have any ammo. Wait, that‘s it!” he says. “We need to find a respectable girl. The public needs to see him with a sweet girl to prove that he is capable of growing up and putting an end to his wild ways. No more trouble. Find someone ASAP.”

              Great, where was I going to find a nice girl willing to put up with his
shit
for a while?

**********

              I get to the jail a little after 9:00 to pick up Ryder. His hair is a mess and he looks like shit. He is fidgeting and pacing back and forth on the street with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

              “Thanks for making me stay here longer than necessary,” he barks.

              “I’m sorry, I was getting you breakfast and making calls, trying to fix
your
problems,” I snap back at him. If he could just learn to control his temper or keep it in his pants for a night, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “Dad thinks he has a plan to get you back in the tabloids in a positive light. How do you feel about a good girl?”
              “What are you talking about?” he asks me, confused, throwing his cigarette down and stepping on it.

              “Dad wants us to find a nice girl to be seen in public with you, trying to show the world that you can change your ways and settle down. If people see you with only one girl for a while, it would help. Think you can keep it in your pants that long?”

              “What the
fuck
?!?” he yells as an old couple walk by us on the sidewalk earning him an evil glare. He just glares back, pulls out another cigarette, and places it to his lips. “I can’t stay with one girl and where am I going to find a girl that I can put up with? You know that sweet isn’t my type.”

              “You don’t actually have to like each other, it’s for show. Just for now,” I say trying to placate him.

              “Dude, we’re going on tour.” We are now walking back to the car, but he stops to look at me.

              “Yeah, about that, she’ll have to join us on tour.” Poor girl. Where am I going to find a sweet girl willing to be stuck on a tour bus with a bunch of rock stars? The kind of girls that follow the band around, aren’t the kind of girls we need right now.

              “What?  I can’t have some stuck up, prissy girl trying to
cock block
me every night,” he complains. He looks intently me at me, “I’m making you responsible for her.”

              “Fine, just as long as we get through this mess,” I tell him. “Our plane is leaving today at 1:00; we just need to get out of LA and out of the spot light, so we are taking a private jet to Chicago. The rest of the band will meet us there.”

              “Chicago sounds fun,” he says. “Find me some good bars; we need a night out after this mess.”

              “Really? Do you really think you should be seen in a bar right now?” I ask him.

              “We’ll find a low key bar, it’ll be fine. Besides, we gotta find me a hot girl,” he says with a wink as he heads toward the car.

              “Dude, bars aren’t usually the place the good girls hang out,” I shout after him, but I know I’ve already lost him. Guess we are going out tonight. Again.

Elaina

              The bar is busy for a Sunday night. I’m running around trying to make drinks and small talk with the regulars; that always helps with the tips. The bar is in a lot of debt right now, so every little bit helps.  My Aunt Karen inherited this bar from her dad when he died fourteen years ago. She had to take out a loan to pay some hospital bills. I have to help her since she was there for me when I had no one else.

              I’m wondering why I’m doing a lot of the work myself and I’m unable to find any of the other waitresses when I see a group of girls standing around a table near the back. I work my way back there to find Amy, flirting with a guy that kind of looks familiar. He is tall and lean with short black hair, but what really grabs my attention are the eyebrow piercing and the tattoos. Lots of tattoos.

              “Amy,” I say, “can you please help me out? There is food in the window and I need to go take a few drinks out.”

              “Be right back babe,” she purrs as she get up from the table. “Do you know who that was?” she asks me.

              “I guess he kind of looked familiar,” I sigh as I blow my hair out of my face.

              “Ryder Kinick from
Line 9
!” she squeals, walking right by the food in the window that she should be taking out now. 

              “Oh,” I say as I head back up to the bar. I hope she is at least delivering the food before heading back to flirt some more.

              Luckily, it started to die down a bit by 9:00 and I could take a few minutes to check my phone and see if Karen called. No missed calls.

              I look up from my phone and see the most amazing guy I’ve ever seen. He is big, muscular and tan. He is wearing a tight, grey V-neck shirt that makes his light blue eyes stand out even more. His brown hair is styled in a messy way that makes it look like he just got out of bed and he’s one of those guys that can make scruff look good. He’s smiling at me now because I’m just standing here gawking at him like a loser. Oh wow, look at those dimples.

              “Can I get a drink?” he asks.

              “Oh, umm, sure,” I stutter, trying to reassemble my thoughts. “What can I get you?”

              “I’ll just take a water,” he says smiling at me again.

              “I haven’t seen you in here before, you must be visiting?”
Really, Ellie, this is the best you can come up with?  You talk to guys every day and you can’t come up with anything better
.
Though I don’t think I’ve ever talked to a guy as hot as him before.

              “Yeah, just here for work. We are leaving in a few days. You don’t really look like the bartenders where I’m from,” he says.

              Is he making fun of me?  I was called in to work today with no notice, so I’m wearing what I wore today when I went out to lunch with a few of my former classmates, my short coral colored sundress that flared at the bottom. I love this dress and Amy tells me that this color looks good with my blonde hair and tan skin.

              “What is wrong with the way I look?” I ask with a note of irritation in my voice.

              “Nothing, you just look too sweet to be a bartender. You aren’t originally from here, are you?” he asks while eyeing my cowboy boots.

              “No,” I admit, “I’m from a small town in Iowa.”
Why am I telling him this?
I never talk about personal stuff with customers. There are guys who come in here several times a week and still don’t know anything about me.

              “Oh, so did your family grow potatoes there or something?” he jokes. 

             
Really? Can no one get it right?
I roll my eyes at him. “No,” I answer him, “Iowa is known for corn, not potatoes. You are thinking of Idaho. And not everyone that lives in Iowa is a farmer either. My mom was a schoolteacher and my dad was a vet. Though I did live at the edge of town and have a corn field in my back yard.”

              “When did you move here?” he asks.

              “I moved here with my aunt and her son when I was thirteen. Well, my mom’s best friend and her son. I still live with them. This is her bar,” I tell him.
Jesus Ellie, stop talking.

              He looked a little confused and just as he was getting ready to respond, the guy Amy was flirting with walked up to the bar. Ryder Kinick. Why was he in here anyways? We never got celebrities. It was just a neighborhood bar; we only really get the regulars.

              “Hey,” he said, “I was wondering where you went.”

              Just as I was trying to figure out what he was talking about, the cute stranger at the bar answered him. “I was just getting another drink and talking to….”

              “Ellie” I tell him.

              “Hi Ellie, I’m Camden and my friend here is…”

              “Ryder Kinick,” I say.

              “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he asks with a smirk and a wink. 

              “Everyone has, you’ve been all over the papers today,” I say.  With that comment, his smile drops.

              “Just a misunderstanding,” he assures me.

              “Is this the girl you found for me?” he asks Camden.

             
What’s this guy talking about? Was Camden just interviewing me for a night with the “Ryder Kinick”? What kind of girl does he think I am?

              “Excuse me?” I say glaring at Camden. “What do I look like some groupie who will just jump in bed with any famous rock star?” I say as I can feel the tears in my eyes.

              “N-no,” he stutters, “it isn’t like that. That isn’t what he meant.” Then turning to Ryder, he says, “No, I don’t think that she can help us.”

              “Help you with what?” I snap at him.

              Then Ryder answers, “My manager and my personal assistant here, seem to think that I have a bit of a PR issue.” he rolls his grey eyes, “They think I need to been seen with a good girl to prove that I’m capable of settling down and all that bullshit. Blah blah blah. I need a girl who can go on tour and be in a few pictures with me acting like a stupid, sappy couple, in love. You are cute and you look sweet too, would you wanna be my girl?”

              How dare this jerk just assume that I have nothing better to do than follow him around on tour and get my picture taken, like some trophy girlfriend. I, unlike him have to work very hard just to help put food on the table and help pay for this bar. Then I think about it, this guy has lots of money to burn, which was obvious when he started buying shots for all the groupies at his table. He wants a favor and I need money. I look down and start to bite my lip and contemplate if I’m really willing to do this. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a picture of Jackson behind the bar and think about everything he has been though in the last few months and I have my answer.