On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

I MANAGED TO find my keycard and get in my room before I had to bang on the door so Barbie could let me in.  As much as I wanted to explore the new song filling my head, I didn’t have my guitar with me in my room and my head was pounding to boot.  I stripped down to my undies, grabbed the phone out of my jacket pocket, and lay in my bed.  Then I switched off the lamp and swiped my phone.

“What you been up to?”

I hoped my voice didn’t give me away.  “Nothing.”

“You left in kind of a hurry.”

Shit.  Diversionary tactics were in order.  And maybe appealing to her emotions.  “How’d your slutty video turn out?”

“God.  Why are you such a fucking bitch, Kyle?”

“Why are you so damned annoying and self-absorbed, Barbie?”

She huffed and rolled over, tugging at the comforter twice.  Good.  I took a deep breath before swiping my phone again, and I also rolled over so my back was to Barbie’s as well.  I pulled up text messages and, of course, CJ’s unopened ones were at the top.  I finally felt ready to read his responses.

I tapped on his name.  His first response to my text,
I’m not waiting for YOU
, was
What?

Then, thirty seconds later,
You texting me back, Kyle?

Three hours later: 
You there?

And then nothing.

Okay, so…he wasn’t even going to say a fucking word about the problem.  I typed several responses, deleting them all before sending.  I was still too fucked up to deal with it.  I decided to wait till morning.

I set my phone on the nightstand, face down so no notifications would flash and steal my attention.  I needed my rest.

As I drifted off, I realized I had, for the first time, put my
sex as a weapon
plan into action.  So Bad Dog had been a bad fucking idea—but, if I had any say in the matter, he would be the first in a long line of men I’d choose in an effort to help me forget about the only guy I
wanted
to be with.

* * *

One great thing about having Barbie as a roommate was that you never had to fight for the shower—or the bathroom in general—because she was a big believer in her beauty sleep.  It explained part of the reason why she was late all the time.  Not only did she feel the need to sleep as late as humanly possible, but then she had to spackle all kinds of shit on her face before she felt ready to grace the world with her presence.

So I could shower when I wanted.

I picked my phone up off the nightstand.  No text messages.  Hmm.  So that was it, huh?

That was all it took, his lack of further response, to make me realize he wasn’t just going to come out and apologize.  Nope.  I had to call him on his shit.  After giving it a little thought, I decided to keep it simple, because beating around the bush wouldn’t get me anywhere, and I was tired of playing this game.  I typed out two simple words: 
Pepper J.

I waited for two minutes and there was no response, so either he was scrambling, trying to figure out some stupid ass way to respond, or he was unavailable.

I realized I was still angry and upset, almost on the verge of tears.  Sleeping with Bad Dog last night had been a great distraction, but that was
all
it had been.  It had kept my mind off CJ for all of half an hour while I was wandering around the hall trashed and thinking about getting laid and then when I
was
getting laid.  The rest of the time, though, I’d been thinking about him.

God.  At least I wasn’t thinking about him during.  That would have been too much.

But I couldn’t go around having sex all the time.  Yeah, I could fuck more guys and do it more often, and I was beginning to think I would, but it would be too much to have sex three or four times a day just to keep my mind off CJ.  If the sex was
with
CJ…

Shit.  I had to quit torturing myself like that.  It wasn’t helping anything.

I got out of bed and made my way to the shower.  It wasn’t until I was peeing before getting on the shower that I realized my hair smelled like Dog.  He didn’t have an unpleasant smell, so it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the smell of the guy I
wanted
to be with.

Fucking stop it, Kyle.
  Once in the shower, I did manage to stop thinking about CJ for a little bit, because I had an immediate problem I was going to have to deal with.  Dog last night had seemed to want to shift into boyfriend/ girlfriend territory, instead of realizing that he’d just been a convenient, semi-hot guy for me to bag.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and not just because it would make the rest of our tour hell.  He was a person, a human being, and after seeing the emotions in his eyes last night afterward, I knew I couldn’t just stomp all over him.

This would be a delicate procedure.  The problem?  I didn’t know that I had the tools to perform the job adequately.

I got out of the shower and got dressed, then put on my makeup.  Once done, I started blow drying my hair, and that made Barbie stir.  When my hair was dry enough and I put the blow dryer away, I started packing my shit, because we were back on the road today.  Barbie muttered, “Time is it?”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.  “A few minutes after ten.”

Her eyes were still closed when she asked, “What’s our call time again?”

Man…I could fuck with her so bad right now, and the little devil inside wanted to.  Barbie annoyed the shit out of me on a regular basis, and it would be fun to mess with her.  I could give her an earlier time so she jumped out of bed right now and then would be pissed at me that I’d cut into her sleeping time, or I could give her a later time and she’d be in even more trouble for being later than usual.  Peter was starting to threaten her with docking her stipend (I suspected that Liz had, diplomatically, of course, asked Peter to stop letting Barbie get away with shit), and she seemed to be actually making an effort.

So I decided to not mess with her.  Even though she had the same materials I did and could check them herself (and I could feign making a mistake), I needed to do my best to keep our band happy and together and doing what we were supposed to.  So I told her, “One.”

“Not eleven?”

Eleven was most often our call time, but we didn’t have far to travel, so apparently Peter had thought some downtime before hitting the road was a good thing—and the hotel even gave us a late checkout time.  “Nope.  One.”

“‘Kay,” she mumbled again, rolling over in the bed.  Then, as an afterthought, she asked, “Can you get me up at eleven?”

Okay, now I was irritated.  “If I’m here.”

And, as if on cue, I felt a text in my back pocket.  I halfway expected and hoped it would be CJ, but it wasn’t.  It was Liz. 
Meeting in the lobby in five for breakfast.  You guys coming?

Just me.  Barbie wants to sleep later.

Surprise.  See you in a minute.

I was relieved to see only Liz and Kelly in the lobby when I got there.  I never knew who breakfast would be with, but since we’d started the second leg of our tour, we tended more often than not to try avoiding meals with Peter and, unless there was something we had to meet about, he seemed okay with the arrangement.  Every once in a while, though, we’d still have Andrew or Bad Dog and TT along for the ride.

But, for now, it was just us girls—just the
sane
ones, thank you.  When I saw them, I asked just to clarify, “Anyone else coming?”

“Nope.”

Internally, I felt a weight slide off my back.  “Where we goin’?”

“I saw a few restaurants and cafés on this street that might fit the bill.  I say we walk a little until the smells pull us in.”

That sounded like Liz.  One thing I’d say for the girl was that she’d allowed her tastes to change—and become less finicky, more like a rock star—the longer she’d been with us.  I was pretty damned sure she’d never set foot in a Wendy’s until she’d been on tour with us.  And, if she had, it was only because of her high school friends.  I’d bet my last dollar her parents had never taken her and her sisters to any fast food restaurant.  I could tell by her discomfort in those places, but I’d also bet my second-to-last dollar she always knew what fork and spoon to use, even if there were three of each at a fancy dinner.

I liked Liz, though.  Out of everyone else in my group, she seemed to share similar work ethics with me.  Yep, she partied and was also beginning to explore her sexual appetites now that we had ultimate freedom on the road (hell, I’d even forgotten by this point that we were supposed to pretend to care about our education), but she still had the big picture in mind, just like I did.  We couldn’t continue to enjoy this freedom if we didn’t perform.  It was as plain and simple as that.  And, if we put on a shitty performance, our freedom wouldn’t last long.  Nope.  We had to work our asses off and we had to be good, because if we weren’t, there would be someone else to take our place.  Sure, Peter was along for the ride, but I also knew we weren’t the only egg in his basket.  I think he was with us because of our age.  Death Crunch was another of his babies, and he wasn’t chaperoning them—although I knew he kept in touch with them and he also kept his fingers in whatever else he had going.  The man was constantly on his phone or his tablet, conducting business.  That was good, because it kept him from shadowing us all the time.  He probably would have been unbearable if not.

Once we were out in the cool humid air (not cold like Colorado would have been in February but still jacket weather), we started walking down the street.  It was a charming section of the city (and damned if I could even remember where the fuck we were) and I felt pretty good emotionally, in spite of all the shit I was going to have to deal with.

And, now that it was at the front of my mind again, I needed to get my rational bandmates’ opinions.  “Girls, I fucked up last night and would love your advice.”

Kelly, walking next to Liz, who was in the middle, looked over at me.  “What happened?”

I took in a deep breath.  Holy shit—what the fuck would they think of me when I confessed?  I wasn’t going to tell them the
why
—only the
what
.  “I, uh…I fucked Bad Dog last night.”

Liz’s eyes got big.  “No way.”  She paused.  “Wait. 
Fucked
as in
slept with
or
fucked
as in
fucked over
?”

I scrunched my nose.  “I slept with him.”

Kelly said, “Oh…yeah, I knew he really was a dog.”

“No, it wasn’t him.  It was
me
.  I started it.”

“What?”

Liz again:  “No way!”

“Yeah.”

Then Kelly’s voice grew conspiratorial.  “Was he any good?”

I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face.  “Holy shit.  He was fucking amazing.”

“So what’s the problem?”

There was the sticking point.  I sucked in a deep breath of air.  “I don’t want a relationship—and I think I got his hopes up.”

Liz was giving me her full attention, but she managed to say, “Here.  Let’s eat here.”  I looked at the sandwich board in front of us.  The black chalkboard had pink and white writing, letting us know the specials of the day, but I agreed with Liz, even without the ads.  I could smell coffee and sausage and even warmth, and I wasn’t turning those down, so we took a left and walked into the restaurant.

Ah—those smells intensified when we stepped inside.  A waitress at the counter said, “Grab a seat, ladies, and I’ll be with you in a sec.”

We located a booth by the window—the only seats left with a view of the street—and we sat down.  Kelly sat next to me and asked, “So what the hell inspired it to begin with?”

Oh, I hadn’t expected that question.  Last fall, when we’d first set out on the road, I wouldn’t have said a word to either of these girls about anything personal.  Vicki was the one I’d felt most comfortable with, the girl I thought I could trust the most.  Today, though, I wouldn’t have trusted her with a food order.  Liz and Kelly truly were the people I felt were my allies, and so I trusted them.  But I was going to sound childish when I told them.

Who was I kidding?  It
had been
childish.  Might as well ‘fess up.  “Vicki…showed me a picture of CJ with another girl.”

“CJ Slavin?”

“Yeah.”

“You guys have a thing?”

Okay, how did Kelly not know about what was going on between me and CJ?  I could tell from Liz’s reaction that she knew, but Kelly was clueless.  After the waitress brought us coffee and took our orders, I filled her in and then said, “So it was stupid and rash—but I don’t think I regret it.  We’re young, right?  We should be out here having the time of our lives, not saving ourselves for guys who may or may not be there when we get home.”

Liz said, “I’m not arguing with you that we shouldn’t be seizing the day, my friend, but you
did
know that whole thing was just a publicity photo shoot, right?”