Cole: How’d it go?
Me: Excellent. Still married. Will tell you everything at dinner.
Dinner was a few hours away. I tossed my cell phone on the mattress beside me and rubbed my tired eyes. Yesterday, Maddy and I’d spent most of our time together on phone calls thanks to the Internet meltdown our Vegas wedding had caused. Our publicists, Jodie and April, hadn’t been happy, but after a few heated what-did-you-do-now words, they’d sent out a fresh respect-their-privacy statement, following Jodie’s initial post. But as if the tabloids and paparazzi would ever do that!
Conversations with our families were even more cutting. My older brothers, Theo, Julian, and Luca, had just laughed. My mother had cried and cursed my soul for not getting married in a church. Not sure she’d ever forgive me for not having a big, over-the-top, Italian wedding. Dad had barely said a word. His silence had hit me with the full force of his shock and disappointment. This wasn’t the first time I’d done something that didn’t meet their approval. I’d thought they’d be ecstatic I was finally married—that was what they’d always wanted...but nope.
Maddy’s mom had been out with friends for lunch. But her tense tone hadn’t been full of cheer and celebration.
“You what?Got married?...Oh, for goodness sake, Maddy. It’s not like you to do something so foolish. Did you honestly think this through? You should be focused on your career, not a relationship.”
Maddy’s stress levels had spiked when her mother had said those things. I’d spent the last hour before I’d had to leave reassuring my wife we’d work things outby doing wicked things to her in bed.
It had taken all my willpower to walk out Maddy’s door and get on the plane. But if the kiss she gave me before I left was anything to go by, we’d be married for this lifetime and the next.
I stretched, bending from side to side, kneading my hip. After the long flight, my lower back ached like someone was digging a blunt knife into it and ramming another one through my hip joint. Worry crept into the back of my mind. We had two back-to-back shows ahead of us, then it was on to Osaka for two more. I couldn’t wait to get on stage. But how could I perform in this much agony? I couldn’t. I needed a solution.
I shot a message to Filipe, the band’s personal trainer and physical therapist.
Me: Urgent. Need a massage. Can you see me now?
Filipe: Sure. What room?
Me: 1402
Filipe: See u in 5.
Then I texted Jade, our tour doctor.
Me: Urgent. Hip not good. I’m in Room 1402.
Jade: Be there in 10 after cup of tea.
My old surfing injury had been okay for years until I’d fallen snowboarding, fourteen months ago at Big Bear. Following that accident, I’d put up with the aches and pains. I’d had countless treatments, injections, lower back nerve blocks and shit needled into my hip joint. On occasion, I drank more vodka than I should to numb the agony. Nothing lasted long. Some days were okay; some weren’t. But since our tour had kicked off three months ago, my lower back had twinged more, and my hip had gradually worsened. It was now at the point of being unbearable. Having a ton of mind-blowing sex with Maddy in Vegas hadn’t helped but that had been worth the temporary heightened level of agony. My hip would calm down. I just needed to take it easy.
I chuckled as I toed off my Adidas sneakers.
Me? Take it easy?
That wasn’t my style.
Go hard or go home.
Hmmm. Going home had some merit . . . I could be with Maddy.
Ten minutes later, I lay stretched out on my stomach in nothing but my red boxer briefs on Filipe’s portable massage table in the center of my hotel room. Jade sat at the desk by the large window, typing notes on her tablet.
Filipe had worked for several NFL teams before we’d hired him for our tour. He was unrelentingly brutal in ensuring the guys and I were fit and took good care of our bodies since we often pushed ourselves to the limit during shows...and in our extracurricular activities. He was hairy as a bear, laughed like a hyena, and had hands as big as a gorilla’s. As agony flared in my hip, there was nobody’s touch I wanted more than his since Maddy wasn’t there.
“Ready?” In his black The Flintlocks Crew sweatpants and T-shirt, Filipe patted my rump and grinned behind his groomed beard. I nodded, rested my folded arms on the front of the table, and stuck my face into the hole. Filipe squished warm massage oil onto my skin. The peppermint smell filled the air as he smoothed the liquid over my aches and pains and then drove his thumbs into my flesh.
“Fuck.” I flinched, bucking as agony shot through my hip, down my butt and along my leg.
“Damn, Slip. You haven’t been this sensitive before.” Filipe didn’t ease up on driving his brilliant but cruel fingers harder into my muscles. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Yep!” I gripped onto the end of the table, digging my fingernails into the padding as Filipe pushed into a pressure point. Pangs coiled across my lower back and up my spine. Every touch hurt like hell, but I’d feel better after his onslaught.
“Slip?” Jade’s voice drifted across the room. “You need to slow down on stage. Not so much jumping around. You have months of shows ahead.”