Having Hope (The Blow Hole Boys Book 4) (8 page)

Again, her eyes narrowed and her shoulders stiffened. I’m sure she was expecting something sexual.

“And what would that be?” she asked.

“I need you to promise you’ll never mention last night to anyone … ever.”

Her shocked eyes moved over my face. She hadn’t expected that.

“If you can promise me that, we can be best friends for fucking life as far as everyone else is concerned.”

I waited and watched as she thought it over, and finally, she nodded and uncrossed her arms.

“I promise, but you shouldn’t let yourself get that way, Chet. We’re here to work. Keep your shit together, man.”

I chuckled and nodded. “I will.”

At least, I would try to keep my shit together. It wasn’t like I had much control over the situation. It wasn’t like I could make the symptoms go away or stop completely.

I’d have to find a way to make sure it never happened again in front of anyone. Or worse, that it never happened on stage during a show. I don’t know what I’d do if I suddenly forgot how to play or couldn’t remember the beats for each song. That would suck so much ass.

I held my hand out. “So friends?”

Her eyes went to my hand as if it was a snake, but slowly, she reached out and shook it. “Friends.”

I left her room feeling as if I’d accomplished something. I’d secured her promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the night before, and I trusted that she wouldn’t. But I’d also squashed whatever issues Hope had with me. The tour would be a smooth ride from that moment on … at least as long as I could keep my brain from screwing me over.

Friends.

I was now
friends
with Chet Rhodes.

I wasn’t sure how long it would work, but if it meant taking the attention away from me and any connection with him, I’d do it. The tour wouldn’t last forever, and soon, I would be away from him and everything he stood for. I could move on, focus on work, and get my life together.

Our next stop was in Phoenix, and when I stepped off the bus and into the dry heat, I was sent back to a time when I enjoyed the hot summers of South Carolina. I’d spend the day outdoors away from my parents, and I wouldn’t go home until I was sure they had both passed out and would leave me alone.

My back ached when I stretched in the sunlight. Sleeping on a bunk was really starting to get annoying. It made me long for the stops when we parked for more than a day and would stay in a booked room. I didn’t really sleep well in the bunks, but on a king bed in a five-star hotel, I could sleep like a queen.

“Fuck, it’s hot out here,” Mia said as she stepped off the bus. “The boob sweat is legit.”

She was wearing large black shades that covered the majority of her face. She’d piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun, and she was still wearing her pajamas. We all were. Except mine were
Star Wars
and boyish, and hers were purple and cute.

“Holy shit! Who turned up the heat?” Lena followed. “The crack of my ass is starting to sweat.”

I laughed.

It was hot, but it was also nice.

We spent a good chunk of the day doing our sound check and then left the venue for an early dinner before the show. Both bands and a few of the crew members took up the entire VIP section at one of Phoenix’s hottest restaurants, and we ate and had a few drinks.

“When we get to New Orleans, I’m hitting Bourbon Street so hard. I’ve never been there,” Lena said.

Chet laughed, making us all turn his way. “Don’t get too excited. Bourbon Street smells like hot shitty ass.”

“Shut up. No, it doesn’t,” I countered.

He nodded his head. “It does. It stinks so bad they clean the streets every morning with lemon juice.”

“He’s right.” Zeke chuckled. “Holy shit, did I just say that Chet was right?”

The guys started laughing, and I couldn’t help myself; I laughed, too.

It felt strange. For the first time in a long while, I felt lighter. Like becoming friends with Chet and letting all the bullshit go for a bit had lightened my heart. I laughed with the girls and joked with the guys, and I had a great time doing it.

The waitress cleared away our dinner dishes, and I didn’t miss the way she smiled down at Chet when she took his plate. He leaned to the side to take a good look at her ass when she walked away from our table.

“I’d like to tongue punch her fart box,” Chet whispered to Zeke.

I know the rest of us weren’t supposed to hear it, but I had.

“Dude, could you not talk about eating ass while we’re eating?” Mia blurted.

I nodded in agreement.

“What? Ass is good for you.” He grinned my way. “A piece of ass a day keeps the blue balls away.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up! There’s no such thing as blue balls, and you know it,” Twiggy interrupted.

Every guy at the table turned to her with wide eyes.

“No comment,” Finn muttered, making the guys at the table burst into laughter.

The rest of the dinner flowed in the same manner, and it wasn’t long until we were in a black SUV headed back to the venue to play our set.

“Looks like things are friendlier with you and Chet,” Twiggy pointed out.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Lena agreed. “Did you guys finally squash your issues?”

“Guys, there were no issues. We just weren’t very talkative is all,” I lied.

“What changed since Vegas?” Twiggy asked.

“Nothing changed. We just haven’t had many opportunities to talk. We did tonight. It’s no big deal … seriously.”

Thankfully, they quit talking about it, and the conversation turned to the show tonight. We were making a slight change in the song lineup, but with us going on after the main show, we had plenty of time to get our shit together.

We went on after Blow Hole. Not because we were the more popular band because we weren’t. We went second because the boys had asked us to. Mostly because Finn and Zeke wanted to be back on the bus so they could Facetime with their families before the kids were settled into bed.

It was sweet.

Lena, Mia, and Twiggy hung out on the bus while the boys played, but Constance and I sat on the side stage and watched the show. At one point during the show, Tiny turned toward Constance and mouthed the song that he’d written for her.

“I’m so in love with that man,” she said with a smile, her eyes still on the big beast playing the bass guitar.

“I can see that.”

“I’m going to tell him when the tour is over.”

“Tell him what?” I asked.

She turned my way with watery eyes and a magnificent glow I hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m pregnant.”

A gasp slipped from my lips, and I found myself clutching my chest.

“Oh, my God! When did you find out?”

“Two days ago. I wasn’t feeling well and my period was late. I took a test and sure enough.” She smiled. “I’m so happy about it.”

“Congratulations, babe.” I leaned over and hugged her. “You’re going to be a kickass mom.”

At that, she chuckled sarcastically. “Poor kid.”

“No, lucky kid … he or she will have two rock star parents. The minute the baby is born, it’ll be a celebrity.”

At that, Constance’s face dropped. “My dad was a rock legend. I’ll never let this baby live the life I lived.”

And then she walked away, leaving me to remember all the bullshit she’d gone through just a few months before. I was fucking famous for putting my foot in my mouth, and I’d done it again. I brought up the past she wanted to forget, and I understood that better than anyone else did.

I’d have to apologize to Constance the minute we were alone again, and I needed to remember that just because she was raised differently than I was, with the money and status, didn’t mean she’d had a better life. We all had our demons. That included Constance and her legendary rock star daddy.

We played our set, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chet watching us play from the side stage. I always played better when I knew the guys were watching, and this show was no different. I played so hard and fast that the sweat was dripping into my eyes.

I downed five bottles of water, hydrating myself and even dumping some over my head to combat the Arizona heat. My sleeveless Misfits tee stuck to my skin, pulling at my arms when I tried to lift them, and prompting me to pull it over my head and toss it to the side.

The crowd lit up with my little strip show, and the girls laughed, their voices echoing throughout the venue through their mics. I played even better in just my black sports bra and decided that I might continue to play half-naked the way Chet did.

After the show, we said our good-byes to Phoenix and left the stage at a run for our bus. The crew members surrounded us once we broke through the exit door where hundreds of waiting fans welcomed us.

I stayed in the back, letting the girls lead the way. I’d wrapped my soaked tee around my neck, and I wrung out the ends as I jogged behind my group. The crowd was a bit wilder than usual, and some of the crew guys had to be a little more forceful, but I kept moving, ready to get on the bus, shower, and climb into my bunk.

Then it happened.

The crowd came together in front of me, blocking me from the rest of the group as they jogged to the bus. A wall of drunk and rowdy fans trapped me, taking pictures and asking questions.

I stopped jogging and backed away, bumping into another wall of fans. They were closing in on me; forming a circle around me and making me feel like a trapped animal.

“Let me through, guys. I need to catch my bus,” I yelled out above the rumble of the crowd.

I tried to remain calm and seem unbothered by my situation, but I couldn’t see any of the crew members because many of the people closing in the circle were much bigger than I was. I was going to be ripped to shreds if the girls and the crew didn’t notice I was missing and come back for me.

A man stepped into the circle, throwing his arm around me and pulling me into his large body.

“Holy shit, Nate! I’m with the drummer. Take a picture of us together. Hurry up!” he slurred.

His meaty hand moved down my back and grabbed my ass cheek.

I shook him loose and pushed him away. “What the fuck, dude? Not cool. Keep your hands off the goods.”

“Ah, come on, baby. I have a ticket. I paid for a tiny touch.”

He moved close again, and again, he pulled me to his body.

I shoved him away and balled up my fist ready to strike.

“I’m not fucking around, man. Touch me again and I’ll fuck you up.”

The big fucker had the audacity to laugh at me before he moved again; trying to pull me by the tee I had around my neck. When I pulled back, he tugged harder on the tee, jerking my neck forward until I slammed against his hard chest.

I pushed back and swung for his face, but before my fist could make contact, a hand came out of nowhere and caught my first.

“Whoa,” Chet muttered at my side. “Easy, Short Stack. If you poke the bear, he might bite you,” he whispered my way.

Then he turned toward the guy who was pulling on me and getting too rough and shook his shoulder as if they were longtime friends.

“What’s up, bro? Everything good here?”

He was calm. Obviously, he’d been dealing with drunken, crazed fans longer than I had.

The man’s face lit up when he realized Chet was talking to him.

“Holy fuck, Nate! Get a picture, man.” He pulled me to his other side as if he were trying to get a picture with both Chet and me, and I gave in and smiled so his friend Nate could snap a picture.

But when I started to walk away, he pulled me back yet again.

“Come on, babe, don’t you want to party with me and my boy.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond.

Chet moved between the crazy fan and me. He was just as tall as the drunk was but not as large.

“For real, man, chill out with that shit. The ladies don’t like to be grabbed.”

The big guy laughed loudly and pushed into Chet’s space as if he was ready to start something.

“And if I don’t.”

The crowd around us was getting louder and closing in, making me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

Pulling on Chet’s arm, I got his attention. He looked down at me with a question in his eyes.

“Let’s just go,” I muttered.

But he wasn’t hearing it. He was already amped up. I could see it in the slamming pulse on the side of his neck and the reddened glare he was throwing the big man’s way.

“If you touch her again, I’ll break your fucking fingers.”

I gasped, shocked that Chet, the man I wasn’t all that fond of, was taking up for me.

In that minute, something shifted. I couldn’t muster up any of the hate I’d carried around for him, but instead, I felt a tiny bit of respect seep into my core.

Luckily, no punches were thrown, and no asses were kicked. The crew decided at that moment to break up the crowd around us and get us to the safety of our buses.

We were pulled apart, him taken to the Blow Hole bus and me returned to the Siren’s bus. Because of that, I didn’t have a chance to thank him for helping me out.

I’d be sure to thank him the minute I could, but until then, I’d spend the drive to Houston wondering when Chet had turned into a decent guy. Because by stepping in and helping me out, he’d become just that in my opinion.