Page 20 of Under the Ink

That didn’t mean he had to answer his phone.

DENVER, COLORADO

JUNE 7

Naomi bit her lip, realizing she’d forgotten to pack a tube of Chapstick. If that was all she’d forgotten, though, she’d be okay. But that was the least of her worries.

Right now, she felt like she was at a crossroads. The band was still in Colorado, less than a hundred miles from home.

No. Not home.Winchester.But, home or not, it was still less than two hours away.

The few hours she’d spent with the band and crew had already been ridiculously tense. Everyone was on edge, like a gym class full of girls on their period. She’d been questioning her decision the entire ride up here.

Why had she left a life she might not have loved but was at least comfortable in? She’d exchanged it to be surrounded by a bunch of grouchy people crammed in a bus like sardines.

Well, that wasn’t true. The bus wasn’t horrible and was actually way nicer than her apartment. But she had a tiny bunk and she’d brought with her a small bag of personal belongings. No one there she really knew made it all the more uncomfortable—and the supposed friends were all bickering and snapping at each other.

At last, though, they had arrived at the Coliseum where they’d all filed off the buses. Johnny, the lead singer and band founder, seemed nice enough. He’d gone out of his way to greet all the newcomers and thank them for supporting his band.

Sage hadn’t so much at looked at her, though—but, of course, he seemed to be on the same bender he’d been on the day before.

Even though Shock Treatment would get set up after the first band, she’d checked out everything just the same, wanting to be prepared—and now she was just sitting backstage nursing a bottle of water while staring at her phone.

Should she send the text or not?

Finally, she pressedSendbefore she’d change her mind and delete it for the tenth time.

Mom, just wanted you to know I’ll be out of town till Ginny’s wedding. I took a job as a drum tech, so I’ll be traveling for a few months.

Ginny had begged her to call her parents or even go by their house before leaving, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Visiting them during the holidays was hard enough.

No more. She was an adult and could make the choice—and the best she could do was a text.

One of the crew, a tall guy with long brown hair, sat next to her, sticking out his hand. “Name’s Greg, but you can call me Andy.” His voice was interesting, and she thought maybe he was from somewhere south.

“Andy?” From Greg? That was quite a leap.

“Yeah. Everyone here calls me that.”

“Why?”

“I’m from New Orleans, and my favorite beer’s called Andy Gator. The whole damn crew teases me, ‘cause that’s the first beer I always ask for at a bar.”

“When you have your favorite…”

“That’s what I say. And how will a bar in Denver know it exists if I don’t ask? And how will I know ifIdon’t ask? Anyway, that’s how I got the name. It stuck like flies on shit and I can’t get it off. Meanin’ to say…you can call me Greg, but I answer toAndy.”

Naomi shook his hand after turning off her phone screen, nodding her head and grinning. She really liked this guy. He was kind and warm, and his accent—Cajun maybe?—was music to her ears.

“Y’all got a name or should I call youGirl?”

“Oh. Naomi. You can call meNaomi.”

“Naomi it is. But careful, though. Anything ‘bout you sticks out, the guy’s ‘ll be callin’ you that.”

Bring it on. She’d been called all kinds of names…and nothing would hurt her again. Especially words. “There could be worse things.”

“I dunno. You’d be surprised.” He started really looking at her tattoos, his eyes scouring the artwork painted on her skin. It made her want to wrap her forearms over her upper ones to hide as much flesh as possible…because what if he could see what was underneath the pictures? “Nice ink, Naomi.”

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