Songbird (5 page)

The advance man was crucial to any tour. Not
only did he make sure the hotel was ready but he verified the venue
was ready for us as well. The success of any tour was whether or
not the advance man had any issues with the preset plans. Which was
why he was always a day or two ahead of the tour.

“Hello?”

“Is this Obadiah Small?”

“Yes. You must be Bianca, the Tour Manager.”
His voice was deep and missing the drawl of southern that was so
common in Tennessee. He obviously wasn’t from around here.

“How’s Seattle?”

“Wet. Prep’s done here. The girls are settled
into their rooms. Just waiting for y’all to show. Then I’ll head to
Portland.”

“Wonderful. Keep me posted if any issues come
up.”

“Sure thing.”

Satisfied, I stuffed the phone away.

Since I was here and the bus was here I
scoped out the living arrangements. I didn’t look forward to living
on a tour bus for the next three months no matter how great the
company. The luxury bus was complete with a full bathroom and
kitchenette. Deciding I wanted the bunk farthest from the
bathroom—because I had no doubt the private bedroom was
Nicholas’s—I went out to my car and got my two bags.

Most of my thousand dollar signing bonus went
towards get the materials I needed for this trip, primarily
business suits and luggage. I bought very pink towels and
washcloths as well because I knew no self-respecting guy would use
them. I wasn’t taking chances on cleanliness on a tour bus with six
men.

Thanks to my brother, knew how items went
missing with guys present. And this wasn’t only one. I was trapped
with four of them not counting the drivers. Dear God. I was about
to spend three months on the road with six men.

I hung my wardrobe bag in the communal closet
and then settled my stuff into the lower bunk that happened to be
closest to the private bedroom as well. The lower bunk had drawers
for storage underneath and a little cupboard thing that my suitcase
fit into just right. I noticed the upper bunks had overhead storage
like airplanes.

Just to make my claim on the bunk definite, I
tucked the stuffed bunny rabbit my great grandmother had made my
mother against the pillows. I was a little old for stuffed animals
but this one was older than I was. In a way, it was my good luck
charm.

At quarter after seven I began to pace. None
of the band had shown up yet. I stepped off the bus and found Doug
and Charlie doing the bus check.

“Do they always do this?” I asked and glared
at the garage entrance willing them to appear.

“They have forty five minutes yet.” Doug
replied and looked up from his check list. “It’s Nicholas you
should worry about. He continuously misses departure time. Even for
planes.”

An Escalade rolled in as I was about to go
back for my phone and fire off text messages. I stood and waited as
three guys piled out and grabbed a single suitcase each from the
back.

“Thanks, Doris.” One of the guys bent in
through the driver window and kissed the woman behind the wheel
like he was going to war and may not come back, not on tour for
three months.

One of the guys walked directly over to me,
dropped his bag and executed a crisp salute ruffling his honey
toned hair. “Reporting for duty, ma’am.”

I couldn’t hold in the laughter as I saluted
back. “Which one are you?”

His beautiful smile made his dark eyes
twinkle. “Arc.”

“Archibald.” The guy not kissing the woman
stupid approached, scanning me over with guarded blue eyes.

“You know I hate that,
Maximilian
.”
Arc picked up his bag. “Permission to come aboard.”

“Granted,” I shook my head still laughing.
“Go.”

“It’s Max.” He ran his hand through hair as
dark as mine before sticking it out to shake. “You must be Bianca.
It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Officially?” Arc turned from where he stood
with a foot in the first step of the bus. His eyes narrowed as he
looked over me.

Max rolled his eyes. “Yes. Officially. Get
moving.” He swung his suitcase at Arc’s backside.

“Hey, don’t damage the goods.”

“Wrong side, idiot.”

“My ass is my best asset.” Arc wriggled it
once and lurched forward in haste as the suitcase swung again.

Max gave me a once over after Arc disappeared
and smiled when he reached my feet. “Nice shoes. Ezra told us to
leave everything in your capable hands.”

“These hands are the path to timely
success.”

“I wouldn’t trademark that slogan yet.
Nicholas isn’t here.” Max stepped passed me and onto the bus which
meant the one remaining had to be Guy, the bassist.

“Could you perform oral surgery when we get
back?” I shouted over to him. I heard laughter from the bus and
couldn’t exactly tell what the guys were laughing at.

Arc’s head stuck out of a window, “Guylan,
let’s go, man. She’ll be here when we get back.”

“Has hell frozen over and Nick is actually on
the bus?” Guy shot back though he did pull away, grab his bag and
come toward the bus.

Well this was a problem. They all apparently
thought or knew Nicholas wasn’t going to show up on time. Ezra had
warned me, but I had sent a text—okay ten of them—yesterday and he
had replied that he would be on time. Son of a bitch. He was not
going to ruin my schedule.

I marched back into the bus grabbed my purse
and my phone. “Doug, call me if Nicholas miraculously shows up.” I
blew past Guy as I dialed the number Ezra had put into my phone. I
hissed when the answering machine picked up and climbed into my
car. He was not going to start this tour on a bad leg. I refused to
let that happen.

If I hadn’t been so irritated, I might have
noticed the time and skill put into the wrought iron gate. I might
have noticed the pretty landscaping that accented the very elegant
Georgian style mansion. If I weren’t pissed.

I knocked and waited. Then checked my watch
and knocked again. The third time I knocked hard and made sure to
vibrate the wood. The butlerish housekeeper Nick employed should
answer the door, even if the temperamental singer had already
left.

The man who opened the door was young, though
older than me by a handful of years, stared at me. “Yes?”

“I’m the Tour Manager, Bianca Sheridan.” I
pushed past him and studied the suitcases in the foyer. “These are
for the tour?”

“Yes. Why exactly are you here?”

“I’m also filling the role as Mr. Walker’s
assistant for the time being. He’s running late.” I looked at the
butler fully. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Shamus.” The butler smiled. “Late is his
MO.”

“Not today.” I tossed my keys at the guy.
“Can you get his bags in my trunk please? I’ve got to go get Mr.
Walker. His room is upstairs?”

“Yes, he has a guest.”

“Call a cab when you get back in and escort
her out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head slowly and
gave a quiet laugh. “Good luck.”

“Bianca is fine.” I hurried up the stairs and
picked up the trail of female clothes on the way. Interesting to
note I didn’t see any of Nicholas’s clothes in the trail. The fact
sort of gave me the impression of an in and out kind of guy. Since
no one watched, I rolled my eyes then rapped twice on the open
bedroom door.

“Mr. Walker?” Walking in I continued picking
up clothes—even I didn’t wear this many layers—and stood next to
the bed. Nicholas was half under the covers and snoring lightly.
Lovely.

“Mr. Walker.” A little frustrated I nudged
the bed with a foot, no way was I going to put a hand on it with
his reputation, and he didn’t budge.

The female groaned softly from her prone
position next to him and rolled to face me. “Who are you?”

“Mr. Walker’s assistant. Get up and get
dressed. A taxi has been called.”

She yawned. “He said he didn’t have to leave
until noon.”

I could have ground my teeth to powder. “So
I’m here, in his house before eight in the morning because he’s
early? Get up. Put your clothes on.” I handed them over to her. She
huffed, climbed out of bed and slammed the bathroom door behind
her. The shower clicked on moments later.

“Mr. Walker.” I leaned over and with a hand
on his bare shoulder shook him hard.

“What?” His exhale had me reeling back. If
air could cause intoxication I would have been on the floor.

I pinched the bridge of my nose before
looking around for inspiration. His pants were in a heap on top of
his boots. The shirt was across the room. I walked across the room
and picked up the shirt contemplating ideas. I grabbed his jeans
and boots and stood next to the bed again.

I set the clothes on the bed and leaned down
to Nicholas. Taking a deep breath, I shoved down my irritation to
speak in my gentlest voice. “It’s time to go.” I gently tugged on
his arm. “Come on sit up for me?”

Guiding a toddler had such similarities that
I smiled to myself. Nicholas grumbled but sat up with his eyes
closed. I reminded myself not to stare, after all staring was rude
without permission, but his bronze skin on display deserved a hymn
to honor its perfection. His pecs were bare but a trail of hair ran
from his belly button down to where thankfully, the blanket still
covered him somewhat. Swallowing hard and glancing nervously at the
bathroom door I decided to get this over with. I tugged the shirt
over his head and guided his arms through the sleeves.

On the middle finger of his right hand he
wore the ring he kept toying with last week. Up close, I could see
a black stone—possibly onyx, maybe obsidian—set into a fleur de lis
pattern that almost looked like a cross. Chunky and made of either
silver or platinum, I bet it was worth more than my advance for
taking this job.

I took a slow deep breath and exhaled just as
leisurely.
I will not look
turned into
I will not
judge
when I pulled the covers back and pulled his legs over
the side of the bed. I kept my eyes carefully focused on his closed
eyes so I wasn’t tempted to look where I had no business casting
eyes onto. Apparently returning to his passed out state he slumped
forward. Since he wasn’t arguing or fighting I assumed he was okay
with me dressing him.

His feet easily tucked into his pants and I
pulled them up to his knees. Next was the tricky part. I kept my
eyes on his face. “Come on, Walker. Stand up for a minute.”

He grumbled but swayed to his feet with my
help. His torso fell heavily against me as I lifted his pants into
place and nearly took us both to the floor. I tucked his shirt in
and was very careful to keep fabric under my hand.

I wanted the fabric against his skin for two
reason. One—me touching, even accidentally, that part of him
without his permission felt wrong in so many ways. Two—when I
zipped his pants, if anything caught I didn’t want it to be man
flesh.

He slumped back to the bed the moment I got
his jeans snapped but that worked for me. I tugged his boots on,
then picked up his wallet and phone from the nightstand and shoved
them into his available pockets.

“Okay. It’s time to go.” I had no clue how I
was going to get the still mostly drunk and semi-conscious Nicholas
Walker down the stairs.

“I want to sleep,” he muttered.

“You can sleep on the bus. For as long as you
want.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Walker.”

“That’s nice,” he mumbled when I pulled him
up a second time.

“What is?” I wrapped an arm around his waist
hoping he’d hold up most of his own weight.

“Walker. No one’s called me that since high
school football.”

“You played football?”

He seemed inclined to follow my lead as long
as I kept talking.

“Some in college too,” he mumbled and
stumbled, but at least he was moving.

I had to grab his belt loops to keep him from
tumbling down the stairs. His body slammed into mine, knocking the
air out of my lungs and pinning me against the wall. I was
breathing hard for entirely different reasons when his hand came up
and rested on my hip.

“Walker.” I cleared my throat. The breathy
tone definitely did not sound authoritative. “Walker, you’re
heavy.”

“You smell good.” He nuzzled the side of my
neck. When his tongue licked as if testing I couldn’t stop myself
from quivering.

“Thank you.” I gave up the fight on breathy.
I could barely breathe, so breathy was okay. “You need to hold more
of your weight I can’t breathe.”

“It’s not me.” His nose rubbed the side of my
face and I felt his mouth drifting across my jaw. The hand that
wasn’t on my hip was traveling up my side and flirting dangerously
with the side of my breast. Thank God my gun was on the other
side.

I turned my head as his lips reached my mouth
so he only brushed over my cheek. I called as loudly as I dared
without upsetting Nicholas. “Shamus.”