Sinners On Tour 05 Double Time (21 page)

Brian stayed on the tour bus for the first night since his son had been born. That didn’t mean he came out of the bedroom at all or that he talked to anyone about their “baby intervention.” He was probably still talking to Myrna on the phone. Or sleeping. Reagan was still pissy about what had happened onstage. Trey couldn’t blame her. He was still pissy about it himself, mostly because she couldn’t see how wonderful she’d been and could only think about some asswipe hitting her with a shoe. She was sitting on the sofa talking to Jace about nothing again. Trey wasn’t sure why she prattled off at him on a regular basis. Probably because he was such a good listener. Or maybe because he seemed a little lonely now that Eric spent all of his time with Rebekah. Trey was sure Jace missed Aggie, but he never complained or let it show. Jace never complained about anything.

When Trey got sick of watching Eric and Rebekah play kissy-face across from him in the dining booth, he stripped down to his silk boxers and went to collect his woman. He was fine with her being pissy. He was not fine with her ignoring him.

“I’m going to bed. Are you coming?” he asked her.

“Brian’s in there,” she reminded him.

And truthfully, he’d rather join Brian than cuddle up to an angry woman all night, but if they didn’t get this all out in the open, it was going to bite them in the ass later.

“I meant in my bunk.”

“You expect me to squeeze in there with you?” She looked down the hall anxiously.

Trey rested his hands on his hips and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t having the best night of his life either. He’d thought one reason for having a steady girlfriend was so you could share this kind of thing with her.

“Forget it,” he said.

Reagan grabbed the sofa arm when Jace tried to shove her off the couch. “Go to bed,” Jace insisted, as if she’d annoyed him beyond his last shred of tolerance.

“Don’t push me off the couch,” she said, punching him in the shoulder.

“Then sit there quietly. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Jace,” Reagan admonished.

“Me too,” Sed agreed. He was sitting across from them in one of the captain’s chairs, periodically glancing toward the bedroom door for signs of Brian, but otherwise sitting in gloomy silence holding a half-finished beer on his knee. Trey knew a Sed guilt-trip when he saw one.

“You guys are jerks,” Reagan said.

“I’m going to bed,” Trey said. “Do what you want.”

He walked down the corridor and climbed into the top bunk on the right side before he tugged the curtain shut. As if he could actually sleep with his mind so full. He stared into the darkness for at least thirty seconds before a hand smacked him in the face as Reagan looked for a handhold to boost herself into the bunk with him.

He grabbed the back of her shirt and hauled her up. Much squirming ensued until they settled on their sides facing each other. He switched on the small dome light in the corner so he could see her more clearly. She looked close to tears.

He stroked her hair from her face. “What’s wrong, Reagan?”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.”

His heart sank. “Our relationship?”

Her eyes widened and she shifted closer. “No, not that. Is that what you thought was bothering me?”

Now she stroked his hair from his face.

“I wasn’t sure,” he said. “You haven’t talked to me since you stormed offstage.”

“I haven’t?” She hugged him. “I’m sorry. I guess after I unloaded on Ethan, I didn’t have much else to say.”

“Ethan? You talked to him about it?”

“Yeah. I called him earlier.”

“So you go to Ethan with your problems instead of me?”

“I’ve known Ethan a lot longer than I’ve known you, Trey. Depending on him is a habit, I guess. I can unload on you for the next forty-five minutes if you really want me to.”

He cringed. “How about you give me a summary?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “I’m not sure if I can take too many more shoes to the face,” she said. “I know I’ll have to win the fans over, but when I was up there I felt… I don’t know. Not good enough.”

“I never feel good enough. You sort of get used to it after a while. Why do you think Brian gets so worked up before a show?”

“Brian does?”

“I guess it’s not as obvious with his comings and goings recently. He turns this odd shade of green and starts twitching uncontrollably. He gets a horrible case of stage fright every time we perform.”

“Why would he be nervous? He’s phenomenal.”

Trey kissed the tip of her nose. “So are you.”

She laughed. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“The crowd was stunned by your appearance, but you missed all the cheering they did for you after you ran off.”

“They cheered for me?”

“Yeah, of course they did. You were awesome.”

“Then why did they throw shoes at me?”

He kissed her forehead where a light bruise had formed. “
They
was a she. One person. Not everyone. And she was escorted from the stadium.” And Trey actually knew that she. He’d texted her three hours before the show to tell her that he would not be available for her entertainment that night. He wondered if Reagan needed to hear that. Maybe it would make things easier for her. Or maybe it would make her angry with him. Only one way to find out. “I think she was more jealous that you were with me than anything.”

“You knew her?”

Trey cringed. “She’s a regular hook-up. Or was. I told her otherwise earlier today.”

“So she didn’t bean me with a shoe because I sucked. She beaned me with a shoe because you dumped her?”

“I think so.”

Reagan released a long sigh. “Thank God. Wait. Did you tell her I was your girlfriend?”

“No, but she saw us play together. The way I was feeling when we played that solo had to be expressed all over my face.”

She smiled. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Nothing like it.” Except playing with Brian. He sighed inwardly. Would he ever stop comparing her to Brian? She was so wonderful and he cared about her so much. Maybe it was a compliment to continually measure her against the only other person he’d ever loved, but it wasn’t fair to her. Even if she did keep measuring up to his idea of perfect. Well, perfect except for that lack of a penis thing, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that. “Feel better now?” he asked. Her body language had shifted from guarded to relaxed, but he wanted to hear her say it.

She nodded. “Yeah, but I do recall someone owing me a session with a talented tongue.”

He drew her against him and kissed her. “That I do, baby. That I do.”

Usually the band had a huge party after their last show of a tour, but Brian was in a hurry to get home to his wife and baby, Sed was ready to start making babies of his own, and Jace looked like he was going to bust out of his skin at any moment. Besides, they were going back out on a new tour in eight days. It wasn’t as if they were going off tour for long. Reagan sat on the sofa with her electric guitar, practicing fingerings for Exodus End songs. She knew them all by heart, but as the day that she would debut as their rhythm guitarist drew near, her anxiety grew exponentially. If she hadn’t had Trey’s constant reassurance, she’d have been lost.

Trey was banging around in the cabinets in the kitchenette, growing more frantic by the moment. After checking each one at least twice, he made his way to the front of the bus. “We have to stop,” he told Sed, who was currently driving the bus. “I’m all out of suckers.”

“Trey, it’s two a.m. and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Even if I was willing to stop, and I’m not, there isn’t a cherry sucker for a hundred miles.”

“I need one. Now.”

“You haven’t smoked for almost two years now. I’d think you’d be over it by now,” Sed said.

“Sweetie, I think I have one in my purse,” Reagan said.

He turned to look at her as if she was an angel descended from the heavens. He retrieved her purse from the counter and dropped it beside her.

“You used to smoke?” Reagan asked.

“Yeah, I had to give it up because of my mother.”

Reagan lifted her eyebrows at him. “Your mother?”

“She saw me smoking in some music video of ours and called me every hour of every day harping on me until I quit,” he said.

Reagan rummaged around in her purse for the sucker she knew was in there somewhere.

“And if he refused to answer, she’d call Brian,” Sed said. “And if Brian refused to answer, she’d call me. And if I refused to answer, she’d call Eric. One time she called our manager.”

“She’s a bit persistent,” Trey said.

Reagan laughed and tugged a sucker from the bottom of her purse. “So you traded one vice for another?” A folded up piece of paper fell into her lap when she lifted the sucker to Trey.

“Pretty much. Mom doesn’t much care if I suck on suckers all day.”

“Did the talent with your tongue come before or after you started with the suckers?” Reagan asked him.

He wriggled his tongue at her, unwrapped his sucker, and stuck it in his mouth. “I’ve always had an oral fixation.”

Reagan started to put the folded piece of paper back in her purse, but she noticed her name written on the outside and it didn’t look familiar. She opened it and found a handwritten message inside.

You
took
what
is
mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.

She felt the blood drain from her face and the piece of paper tumbled from her slack grip.

“Reagan?” Trey asked.

She blinked hard and looked up at him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Trey retrieved the piece of paper from her lap and read it. His brow furrowed with confusion. “What’s this?”

She snatched the note out of his hand and stuffed it into her purse. “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She headed to the bathroom with her cell phone in one hand. As soon as she was inside, she called Ethan. As usual, he answered on the first ring.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not going to be home tomorrow. I miss you like crazy.”

“I’ll be home. We’re already in New Mexico.”

“Okay, good. So what’s up?”

“I got another message. Well, the same message again.”

“Did you get the number this time? I never did get anything out of the phone company. Times like these I wish I was still on the force.”

“It wasn’t a text message,” she said. “It was a note in my purse.”

“In your purse? Reagan, that means this is someone close to you.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” she yelled and realized how thin the walls were in this place.

“Who could it be? One of the band members? The crew?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what it means. You took what’s mine. I haven’t taken anything from anyone.”

“It still sounds like a jealous ex-lover to me, Reagan. Maybe you should ask Trey if he’s dated any psychopaths.”

“Ha ha, Ethan. Will you be serious?”

“I am serious. Did you tell him about the last message?”

“No.”

“This one?”

“He saw it, but I played it down.”

“Maybe it’s a practical joke. One of the guys messing with you the way guys mess with each other. Maybe the joker didn’t realize how inappropriate it is.”

“Maybe,” Reagan said. Eric did have a strange sense of humor. Maybe he was behind it. It didn’t seem like something he’d do though. Put saran wrap over the toilet bowl, yes. Send threatening messages to his bandmate’s girlfriend, no.

“Well, stay close to Trey. Let him know you’re worried about it. Bring the note to me tomorrow and I’ll see if I can find any telling clues.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” Just talking to him made her feel safer.

“See you tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone and left the bathroom to find Trey standing just outside. “So what did Ethan say?” he asked.

Caught. Reagan swallowed and decided to take Ethan’s advice. “He said to tell you that I’m worried about this and that this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten this message since I started dating you.”

“What?”

“I got a text message a little over a week ago. Said the same thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me someone was threatening you?”

“Because I wasn’t sure it was real. I can’t deny that it is now. That note had my name on it. It was in my purse. The message was exactly the same. Eric wouldn’t pull a prank like that, would he?”

Trey shook his head. “Not his style. It’s not funny.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“When did you get the last message?” Trey asked.

“The morning I called my father.” She hadn’t told him about that either. “Um, after your first concert in Topeka.”

Trey nodded. “I’ll make some calls in the morning. See if I can find out anything. We have no way of knowing for sure how long that note’s been in your purse.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. He stepped closer and hugged her. “I can protect you, you know. You don’t have to keep going to Ethan.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t usually frighten this easily. Something about this sends chills down my spine.”

The next afternoon, Reagan slipped into the backseat of Exodus End’s limo. The man inside resembled someone’s grand-father more than someone who had made a metal band like Exodus End superstars. Sam Baily was talking into his cell phone but looked up and smiled at Reagan warmly when she settled into the seat closest to the door.

“I’ll call you back. I have my work cut out for me here,” he said and disconnected.

What exactly did he mean by “work cut out for me”?

“So I take it you’re Reagan Elliot,” he said and reached across the console to shake her hand.

She was half-tempted to say, “who? I just wanted a limo ride,” in an attempt to break the ice, but she didn’t think this guy fucked around.

“Yes, sir.”

“My assistant is dying to get her hands on you. She likes that girly sort of stuff. She’ll take you shopping for some decent clothes, get your hair fixed, help you with your makeup.” He tilted his head and assessed her more closely. She was five seconds from popping him in the mouth and telling him to go fuck himself. Who did he think he was?

Exodus End’s exalted manager, that’s who.

“How would you feel about getting breast implants?” he asked.

She was too stunned to answer at first, and when she finally could speak, the most she could muster was, “No.”

“The band would pay for it.”

She met his pale blue eyes steadily. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s too bad.” He opened a tan leather folio on his lap and wrote something down. He clicked his pen with finality and closed the folio again. What was he writing? Something about her? Had she totally blown it?

She looked down at her small breasts. Would it be the end of the world if she got a little augmentation? No. But if she ever did get cosmetic surgery it would be because she wanted it, not because someone pressured her into it. “I just want to play guitar.”

“That’s fine. I thought you’d rather be an asset to the band instead of a liability, but we can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Having small boobs made her a liability? She didn’t know if she should be offended or hurt, so she settled on pissed. “I know I’m a nobody, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to me that way.”

“Forget I offered.” He opened his folio and she half-expected him to pull out a sign that read “reject” and hang it around her neck. Instead he pulled out a thick piece of off-white paper and handed it to her. “That is your itinerary for the next week. Today is reserved for finding you the right look both onstage and in public. The rest of the week you’ll be rehearsing for the show. Questions?”

She scanned the sheet but didn’t really internalize anything it said. She was still upset about becoming a sex object, or whatever it was this guy was trying to convert her into. “Why are you so fixated on my look?”

“You’re an entertainer, Reagan. It comes with the territory.”

“I’m a musician.”

“In the studio, you’re a musician. Onstage, you’re an entertainer. Get used to it. It’s not up for negotiation.”

She stared down at her itinerary for the day. In ten minutes, she had an appointment with a hairstylist. She rubbed a hand over the short hair at the back of her head. Was her twenty-dollar haircut that bad? And why did she need a pedicure? She wore combat boots on a daily basis.

“Reagan?”

She glanced up at Sam.

“Instead of fighting it, try having fun with it.”

Easy for him to say. He didn’t have to worry about the size of his boobs being a liability.