Page 4 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

I glance at my to-do list and sigh.

Afterthe tour.

2

JORDAN

Three Nights Later in Kansas City

Fourteen shows down. Ten to go.

Not quite the home stretch just yet, but we’re almost there.

Laughter draws my attention away from my clipboard and planner. I gaze across the hotel bar at Criminal Records, the nation’s most popular rock band.

At the moment, they’re engaged in a fierce game of billiards. Girls versus boys with Addison, Harmony, and Katrina, taking on Knox, Jonah, and Bronson. Not sure how they’re managing that with those numbers, but they’re all so tipsy I doubt they even care who’s winning at all.

I smile, happy to see them happy.

Then, I go back to my work.

One show down means another one is up next. I go through my planner, making sure everything that needed to be accomplished in Kansas City has been checked off. The Midwest route is easy, thankfully. Until we reach Chicago, that is. That’s when things get tricky.

I eye the next few days. Tomorrow morning, we hit the road to Chicago. Then, I’ve scheduled an afternoon practice — which won’t be fun, unfortunately. Since The Electrics know about our new song-in-progress,Strawberry Daiquiris,I imagine they will want to scrap the whole thing and start over. Can’t say I blame them, though. It’s not nice to be spied on.

The next day, we have lunch with romance author Melanie Rose. The ladies do, anyway. The men are free to do whatever for the afternoon — as long as they don’t miss practice later.

The day after, it’s show day! That’s prep and sound check and everything that goes with that.

Then we?—

Someone sits down in my booth.

I look up as Bronson slides into the seat and plants his back against the wall. “Hey, Bronson,” I say.

He bobs his head; a silent hello. I’ve always appreciated Bronson’s quiet nature. Makes for good company sometimes.

Speaking of silence...

I glance around the bar, suddenly aware that the others have dispersed. “Where did everybody go?” I ask, then scoff. “No. Don’t tell me. I can guess.” I go back to my planner spread out on the table. “The couples started making naughty glances at one another before escaping upstairs while Katrina blushed. Is that close?”

Bronson shrugs a yes, the hood of his sweater flopping slightly on his shoulder.

“I figured,” I say. I tilt back, giving my arms and shoulders a stretch. “Well, I’m happy they’re happy.”

I skim my clipboard, confirming today’s page is completed before sliding it free and folding it up to dispose of later.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Bronson asks after a minute.

“Ugh,” I grunt, exhaling hard. “I’d love to! In fact, I want nothing more than to go upstairs, empty the mini-fridge, anddraw myself a long, luxurious bath. And I don’t evenlikebaths. Unfortunately, however, I still have to complete next week’s schedule and set up a call with the venue to meet their coordinator.” I groan. “There’s also?—”

“Jordan.”

I look up, surprised by the sudden punch of his voice.

Bronson looks at me across the table. “Do you want to go upstairs, with me?”

I go blank. For several seconds, my mind is an empty void of confused exhaustion.

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