Page 30 of Revived

“What do y’all have planned tonight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Chevy cracked.

“I haven’t seen a show yet, so Chevy said I needed to get the full side-stage concert experience tonight.”

“You haven’t seen a single show?” Gabe asked, clearly stunned by that. I shook my head in answer. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working.” The explanation rolled off my tongue the way rote responses usually do, causing Gabe to frown at me.

“There couldn’t have been an emergency every single night for four weeks, Mel.” The infuriating man let out an exasperated huff, letting me know that he felt the same about me. “You’re not on the clock 24-hours a day, seven days a week.” I didn’t respond to that because I had no clue what to say.

“Gabe, you’re needed in your dressing room. They have a wardrobe change for tonight.” Everly called out before speaking into a headset she had on.

“I have to go, but we’re going to remedy your work-life balance after tonight.” He patted Chevy on the shoulder. “Good call,” he told his son before rushing off to handle his business.

Chevy beamed at me as we got our food plated. “He’ll make sure you get out and do things now.” His smug face told me that had been his goal in dressing me up and making this night happen anyway. I couldn’t really complain, because he’d only been looking out for me.

“While I appreciate your meddling on my behalf, I wish you’d stop. Your father has enough to worry about, without adding me to the list.”

“Sounds to me like he has it handled though.”

No response to Chevy was necessary. Instead, we worked on putting away some food. The spread covered a wide array of selections from light finger goods to fish and chips or steak, potatoes, and vegetarian options. I had a sampling of several of the finger foods rather than giving into a heavy meal that would bloat me. I’d worn the one going-out outfit I’d bothered to pack. Black leather pants, that made my ass look phenomenal, a cropped, shimmering red top that cupped my boobs, enhancing my cleavage and clasped behind my neck. My hair was swept up off of my neck while auburn curled tendrils slipped free of the hold of the clip that I used to pull it back. My makeup was on point as well, with heavily coal-lined lids, lush mascara, and lips that matched the ruby red of my top. I’d probably fit in better with an older, 80s rockers crowd of groupies, but whatever. I thought I looked great.

“Holy shit, hot momma! Has Gabe seen you, yet?” Cal asked as she strode into the room just as we were finishing our meal.

“Yeah, he got called away though,” Chevy told her while wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Bet he was pissed about that,” Cal teased. “If I swung for the other team, you’d probably have to beat me off that ass with a stick.”

“I’ll beat your ass off with my stick,” Wen called out as he approached, having heard his woman’s taunting comments to me. Then he did a double take to see who Cal had been talking to. “Fuck me! Mel, has Gabe seen you yet?”

I couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from me that time. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you look like a fuckin’ wet dream walking around like that.”

“I’m not even mad about that comment because I agree,” Cal told him.

“You’ll always be my ONLY wet dream, baby,” Wen told her. To which Cal rolled her eyes and mumbled, “If only.”

“We have to go,” Chevy finally told them. “I promised Mel the full concert experience. WE have to be out there for the opening act tonight.”

Wen laughed. “Stealing your dad’s woman, huh?”

Chevy winked while I shook my head, prepared to deny that I was Gabe’s. Too quickly though, Chevy had a hold of my hand and tugged me toward the door. “Gotta go,” he called out as we moved. I assumed we were trying to move through fast enough that no one else would stop us.

“Why does everyone keep insinuating that I’m your dad’s anything?”

“Because you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Agree to disagree, Mel. My dad is infatuated with you.” We left it at that and moved to hit up the side of the stage to take in The Funky Tenderloins. “What a name,” Chevy commented and I laughed with him. They were a local band who had apparently won a battle of the bands style contest to open the show that night.

They mostly played classic rock covers with two original songs thrown in. The originals were pretty good, which made me hate their name even more. It didn’t suit them at all. “If only they’d change their name,” I mentioned just as they all took a bow and started to walk off the stage, heading in our direction. The lead singer, who had to be around 30-years-old, gave me a rather indecent eye-fucking before he went all in and scooped me in towards his body, ready to plant a very unwanted, extremely wet kiss on me. A giant palm slapped forward from over my shoulder and slammed right into the man’s face instead. That action caused his bandmates to howl in laughter.

“Dude, you got face-palmed by Gabe Fucking North.”

The singer shook it off. “What the fuck, man?”

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