Love on the Rocks (Love on Tour #1) (3 page)

“That’s not a good idea,” Sean said.

“Don’t you wanna see our show tonight?” Henry asked, looking extremely hurt.

“I could come to the show. I won’t be leaving town until tomorrow, anyway.”

“Good,” Henry said, looking satisfied. “Then you can stay with us until then.”

I must have looked as confused as I felt.

“We’re staying here. We’re gonna take a nap, too. You can stay here,” Henry said, as if he were explaining a hard math problem to a child.

“I told you, I can’t afford it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can’t let you pay for my room,” I protested. “I already owe you gas money.”

They both rolled their eyes, at the same time. It was uncanny.

“Look, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Baby. We’re rich. One night in a hotel, it’s nothing to us,” Henry said.

“No way. I can’t do it. You’ve been too generous already.”

“Then you can stay in my room,” Henry suggested, beaming.

“Think again,” I said.

“I always get a suite,” Sean said. “There’ll be a couch at the very least, sometimes even an extra bed. You can stay in my room. I’d be paying for it anyway, so it would cost me nothing to have you stay for a few hours.”

I stared at him, feeling shocked by the offer, and not really sure what to do. He waited.

“I don’t know… I guess I could do that.”

“Good. It’s settled.”

3

Despite the fact that I had worried about being able to sleep on the couch in a hotel room with Sean Rush twenty feet away on the bed, I did pretty well. I fell asleep within minutes and didn’t wake up again for over three hours.

When I opened my eyes I could see Sean standing not far away, his back to me. He was doing something on the counter that ran alongside the small kitchenette. He was wearing a pair of black running shorts and a cotton tank top. His hair hung loose on his shoulders and was wet, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. His bare calves were facing me, and I could see the tattoos on them fully for the first time. But I couldn’t quite make them out. I tried to move quietly on the couch, scooting forward for a better view, when he turned toward me.

He held a plate piled high with sandwiches, each cut in half on the diagonal. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” I admitted.

He grabbed two water bottles from the mini-fridge and came to sit beside me on the couch. He put the plate on the coffee table between us and handed me one of the waters.

“It’s just PB&J, we’ll get a real meal when we get to the venue.” He looked at his watch. “And we’ll be leaving pretty soon.”

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Of course. But eat first,” he gestured toward the plate with his chin.

We ate in companionable silence, then I went to take a shower. The shower felt amazing. I lingered in the hot water, trying not to feel guilty for using so much of this precious resource in the desert. After I put on a set of clean clothes and dried my hair, I opened the bathroom door and stopped as I saw Sean standing directly opposite the door, his back to me, packing a duffle bag that sat on the bed.

His tattooed calves were right there in front of me. I was surprised by what I saw. The back of each calf was completely covered in one continuous tattoo. The object in the center of the image was surrounded by gentle background shading to make the entire thing fit the shape of his leg. On his right leg was a vase. Not an ordinary, put-your-flowers-in-it vase, but an ancient artifact. It was cracked throughout and looked as though it had been broken and put back together with glue. A large chunk was missing near the top. The vase was a faded orange color with darker lines that ran around its circumference. The object on his left leg was a bowl, also cracked and ancient looking, with more of a mottled pattern.

Sean turned around. I was still staring.

“I suppose you were wondering about these,” he said, pointing behind him.

I nodded. He pulled his right leg up onto the bed, so that I could see the back of it.

“My dad is an Archaeology professor and he took me with him on digs sometimes when I was a kid. I found both of them. This one is about 2,000 years old. I found it when I was eight. It was in pieces. The tattoo was made from a picture taken after we restored it.” He put that foot down and pulled the other up. “This bowl is even older, perhaps 2,500 years. I was around 11 when I found it nearly intact.”

He put his foot down and grinned at me. “I was pretty proud of myself.”

“I would be too,” I said. “That is the best tattoo story I’ve ever heard.”

“You got any?” he asked.

“One,” I admitted. “A tree.”

I contemplated showing him. He waited. What the hell. I turned around and lifted my shirt up, careful to keep the front covering my bra, but I lifted the back up to my shoulders.

“Unsnap the bra,” I instructed.

Sean hesitated, but then he did it, quite easily I might add.

“Beautiful,” he said as he got the full view of the tree with wide branches at my shoulders, tapered trunk, and thin roots that reached down toward my waistline. “That’s a nice piece of ink,” he said in admiration.

I dropped my shirt and turned around, quickly refastening my bra. “Thanks.”

“You gonna tell the story?” He asked.

“Maybe another time,” I said.

“Okay. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll just grab my pack,” I said, heading toward the couch.

I shoved my toiletries bag and dirty clothes haphazardly into the bag and went to lift it. But Sean grabbed it. He pulled it up on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. Then he opened the door for me and followed me down to the hotel lobby.

It was here that I came face-to-face with reality. I had foolishly come of think of Sean and Henry as ordinary men over the past twelve hours I’d spent in their company. But they were far from ordinary.

When we had entered the hotel it was an odd hour, late in the morning, not yet lunchtime. But we left in the late afternoon and the lobby was filled with people checking in, or coming into the air conditioning to escape the height of the afternoon heat.

People turned to look as we entered the common area. Some gasped and turned to their friends in excitement. A few started to move toward us. I noticed that Mike and a man I didn’t recognize were standing at the counter. Mike turned, an annoyed look on his face. Sean waved him off. By the door, Henry stood waiting. He was surrounded by a small crowd. He was signing autographs and being gracious. The men in the crowd were trying to look cool and casual. The women were outwardly exuberant.

Sean headed toward Henry. I followed closely. But I was unable to stay the course. A group of women, about my age, managed to pull in between me and Sean. I was pushed back.

“Hey Hank, ready to go?” Sean called.

“Yeah, we should get moving.” Henry looked over to see Mike and a short, balding, middle-aged man, headed toward them. “Thanks everybody,” he said to the crowd gathered around him. “I hope to see you all at the show.”

Mike got to the door without trouble and wrenched it open. The bald man and Henry followed. But I was still trapped behind the crowd of girls. When I tried to get around them, a few men crowded in and closed the hole. Fortunately, Sean’s height helped. I could see him over everyone’s heads. He paused in the doorway and was looking through the crowd. I hoped he was looking for me. I raised my hand over my head.

Sean moved toward me with purpose. “Excuse me everyone, I’ve left something behind,” he said.

The crowd made room and he marched back to me and wrapped his arm around my waist. As he ushered me through the people, I couldn’t help but notice the absolutely mystified looks on every woman’s face.

****

It turned out the balding man was Oliver, the dreaded tour manager. We spent the ride to the venue listening to a litany of information about the show from him. Henry rolled his eyes frequently. Sean said nothing.

When we got there everyone seemed to have something far more important to do than entertain me, so I found a quiet spot in one of the back rooms that appeared to be unused, and pulled out my laptop.

I needed to e-mail my mom and sister and let them know where I was and that I was okay. I also wanted to check social media to see which of my friends were where. It would help me to better plan my travels after I left Phoenix. I could do most of that on my phone, but it hadn’t been charged since Vegas, something I remedied while I worked on the laptop.

Mike came to get me eventually and took me to a large room filled with a banquet table of food and several tables with chairs. It looked like it was set up for a church luncheon. The food was hot and untouched.

“I thought we would sneak in first and get the good stuff,” he explained, rubbing his hands together.

He was right about the good stuff. The trays were fresh and hot, and there was a staggering variety of things to eat – chicken, pork, tofu, multiple salads, honey-glazed carrots, and on and on.

We filled our plates and took a seat at a long table covered in a plastic tablecloth. I was only two bites in when Henry entered, followed by several very rocker-ish looking men.

“Hey, Baby,” he greeted me from the doorway. I waved.

They all filled their plates and joined us at the long table. Henry introduced me to everyone. His band consisted of Greg, back-up guitarist, Tommy, drummer, and Alonso, bassist. Sean’s band members were Joe, drummer, Raif, bassist, and Lyle on guitar.

“So this is Baby,” Alonso said, giving me a lascivious grin.

“You been talking about me, Henry?” I asked him in a teasing tone.

“Henry?” Greg asked.

Henry shrugged and grinned. “Apparently.”

They ate and talked. I listened and laughed. They were fun and rowdy, and I enjoyed them immensely. Sean showed up when we were almost done with our meal. They teased him about where he’d been.

“Was it a blonde? It had to be a blonde.” Raif said.

Sean shook his head. “Whatever, you all jetted out of there and left me to get cornered by that radio station exec. I didn’t even have Mike to get me out of there.”

Mike chuckled. “Nope. I was hanging out with Baby.”

Rather than looking angry about this, Sean looked pleased.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Backstage meet and greet,” Henry said, abandoning his empty plate and leaning back in his chair.

“So that’s what you get when you get a backstage pass. I always wondered. Do they watch from backstage, too?”

Several of them laughed at my question.

“No, they go back out to watch the show,” Sean said. “You will be the only one backstage tonight.”

“I will?”

“Yeah, but Mike will hang with you.”

“Why?” No one answered my query, so I asked again. “Why don’t I get go out front, too? No seats available?”

They all laughed at me again.

“No, Baby,” Henry said. “There aren’t a lot of seats out there, just the balcony. The rest is a massive pit.”

“Oh, so they stand and watch?”

“Kind of,” Henry said, grinning.

They seemed to be amused by my ignorance, but I decided not be offended. What did I know about hard rock concerts?

“So, tell me again why I can’t go out there?”

Sean leaned over, a serious look on his face. “It’s too dangerous.”

This took me by surprise. “What about all those girls I saw in the hallway earlier?”

An entire army of women in short skirts and heavy make-up had floated past me on a cloud of perfume when we’d first arrived. They didn’t seem to notice me at all. Mike explained to me that they were the groupies traveling on the other busses. Some were sleeping with band members, others were sort of girlfriends to roadies.

“They can handle themselves,” Henry said.

I wasn’t sure if I should be amused or offended.

“What about my guns?” I asked, pulling back my shirtsleeve and once again showing off the small bump on my bicep.

“Not bad,” Greg said appreciatively.

Lyle leaned over and took a gentle squeeze on my arm. “Very impressive.”

Henry was grinning, so was Mike. In fact they were all grinning at me, except for big brother Sean.

“Not happening,” he said sternly.

I decided not to argue. Everyone was done eating, except for Sean, so they got up and went their separate ways.

Henry looked at Mike as he stood. “We got about an hour, yeah?”

“At least,” Mike said, leaning back in his chair.

“Good. Come on Baby, I want to show you something.”

****

I was sitting on the catwalk, high above the arena. My legs dangled down into the oblivion below. Henry sat beside me, looking down at the crowd. Thousands of people were making their way into the arena now. The balconies were slowly filling up, but the main floor, which was completely devoid of chairs, had been filled to capacity even before we made our way up the metal staircase to this overlook.

“You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

“You ask me now?”

Henry laughed. “So that’s a no then?”

“Just the opposite in fact, I love being up high.”

“You ever sky dive?”

“No, but I would. I bet you’ve been sky diving before, Henry.”

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Did Sean go with you?”

Henry laughed. “No. He’s afraid of heights.”

“Really,” I said with surprise. “He’s like eight feet tall.”

“He’s only four inches taller than me,” Henry said defensively. “And the big man falls hard. You know what I mean?”

“So do you bring girls up here to make-out?”

Henry grinned at me. “Sometimes. Why? Do you wanna make-out?”

Hank Tolk was hot. He was tall and built, but not so much as to be terrifying-looking. He had beautiful blue eyes and a sharp nose and chin, framed by high cheekbones. The small scar above his left eyebrow only made him look better. But having a one-night stand with a rock star was not on my bucket list.

“No.” I said quickly.

Henry chuckled and looked back over the crowd. “Then I guess we better talk.”

“Tell me how you became a rock star.”

“Well, I was fourteen when my mom’s boyfriend kicked me out of the house and I was on the street. I stole the bastard’s guitar and taught myself to play on a street corner. I survived by collecting money in a can.”