Page 4 of Snared

We were ten shows into this tour, with over thirty to go before we took an extended break. Two more months of bus and hotel life.

I was living the dream I’d had since I was a kid, and it was so damn sweet.

“Meet and greet in twenty,” Josh said an hour later as we lounged in the dressing room backstage.

We’d finished our set and the encore, and I was exhausted. I’d taken a quick shower to get some of the sweat off, but it wasn’t enough. Not that the shower on the bus was that luxurious, but Steelwolf’s tricked-out tour bus was leaps and bounds above the vans and crap buses I’d toured on with my previous bands.

We could’ve flown from show to show but it was easier to drive since this leg was in the USA.

“I’m almost ready,” Jax boasted as he whipped his shirt off, then grinned at us all. “Ready.”

“No one wants to see that,” Bash teased.

“Yes, they fucking do,” Jax said. “I’m a feast for the eyes. The fans love it. Right, CH?”

“Whatever you have to do, Jax,” Josh deadpanned, before stepping out of the room.

I held back my sneer in a feeble attempt to keep my feelings for our manager in check. I got why the guys were making Josh act as our tour manager, but I wished he’d stayed in LA.

He might be great at his job, but all the band managers I’d met over the years weren’t people I could trust. They were always in it for the bottom line. And I got it—didn’t mean I had to like it though. I wasn’t a fool. Josh probably loved having a female drummer. It was different. Unique. I was a gimmick to him.

And I wasn’t completely convinced that he hadn’t leaked the information from James’s paternity test for the buzz. Bad press was still press.

He claimed to have our best interests at heart, and the guys seemed to believe him, but I’d been burned before by managers, and I wasn’t going into this wearing blinders. That way led to disaster, and not just because of my gender. Hell, my last band was all girls, and our manager still tried to get us to all wear short skirts when we performed. No fucking way was I parting my legs behind my kit wearing a mini-skirt. Not happening.

That band had imploded when our lead singer, Betsy, hooked up—and then broke up—with our manager’s son, who also worked for his father.

Messy train wreck didn’t even begin to describe it. We’d had a good sound and an album that was almost ready to go. I’d thought that everything was going well, but then—bam. Gone. Our manager had been pissed at all of us, not just the lead singer. And then the bickering and blame game started and snowballed until he said our drama wasn’t worth it and dropped us. I’d never been a big fan of Betsy’s, so it was probably for the best, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t stung when we had to walk away from everything we’d worked so hard on.

I polished off the rest of my water bottle, trying to calm myself. I needed to push aside my irritation. All that mattered was that my current bandmates valued my skill behind the drums.

And I was a member of Steelwolf, one of the top rock bands in the world. My internal fangirl squealed a little bit every time I thought about it.

I stood up from the couch. “I’m ready. Not taking my shirt off.”

“Like anyone wants to see that.” Jax paused. “And I’m anyone. But we don’t want to start a riot, so yeah, keep yours on.”

He wiggled his brows at me, and I shoved him in the shoulder. Jax nudged me right back. He’d hit on me a few times right when I first joined the band, but we’d quickly settled into sibling-style teasing. Jax could annoy the shit out of me, but there was no sexual tension. Exactly how I wanted it.

Jax slung his arm across my shoulders. “Come on, Spidey. Let’s go greet our fans.”

I groaned. “That nickname is so boring.” I had no plans to tell him my mother had named me after that damn spider.

“But you seem annoyed by it, so it might stick,” he pointed out.

“Yes. It’s better to ignore the clown than encourage him,” Tristan said as he pulled his hair back into a floppy bun.

“Oh, MB, your moody is showing,” Jax teased.

We headed toward the meet and greet set up a short walk from our dressing room, security flanking us the entire way. It was something I was getting used to. I could still walk around outside without getting recognized, but the guys—forget it. They were usually swarmed, but hopefully, that wouldn’t happen to me for a while because I liked my random walks in the cities we played and at home. Helped clear my head.

As we entered the area, I noticed the massive banner with our name and the wolf logo spread across one wall for group pictures.

“Come on, people. Quick band pic before we start,” Jax said, tugging me toward the banner, while Tristan and Bash grudgingly followed behind.

We hammed it up for the camera as our tour photographer snapped a few shots. I was exhausted from the show, but laughing with the guys turned my energy up a notch. It still amazed me how easily they’d welcomed me in and made me feel like family. Sure, there’d been some hiccups, but I’d never been in a band like this. And it was more than just the stratosphere levels of fame. We were a solid unit, each working off each other to be the best band possible and make the most amazing music.

The VIP fans started streaming in, and the noise in the space ratcheted up. I plastered a smile on my face, ready to go. A year in and it was all so surreal to me.

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