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“I can’t imagine.”

“They’ve provided a fair share of drama over the years, but were always quick to make up and often did before the wheels hit the ground. Ben and Lexi—whole different animal. Lexi wouldn’t let Ben take Benji on tour without her, so those weregood times.” Joel widens his eyes and tips his head back. “Picture an entire rock band, their spouses and kids, and mix that with some of the company the band kept,” he harrumphs. “It was a circus.”

I wince. “That bad?”

“Mostly when they toured with another band who gave zero fucks around toddlers and infants.” He shakes his head. “Put it this way, certain people with egos and unlimited money shouldn’t be granted the freedom that comes with it—no matter how talented they are—because they’re fucking terrifying to be around. I’ve had to deal with that in abundance, some of it on this fucking plane.”

“This is the Sergeants’ plane, isn’t it?”

Joel shrugs. “Well, it doesn’t belong to a big-breasted pop princess.”

“So why not tell me—” I widen my eyes. “Shit, Joel, did Easton steal the Sergeants’ plane so you could pick me up?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckles. “Or the second.”

“Jesus,” I can’t help my smile. “And I thought sneaking my dad’s Audi out for a joyride made me a rebel.”

“Easton has anamazingtrack record of busting Reid’s balls.”

“Apparently. So, speaking of band dynamics, how are the guys getting along?”

“They’re killing every show without fail.”

“Yeah, but backstage? Easton said he and LL don’t vibe well. Easton thinks he’s on something.”

“Something is going on with him. I’m not sure it’s drugs, but he’s definitely wrestling some demon. As long as he keeps his shit away from you and East and does his job, I really don’t give a damn.”

“I think LL’s misunderstood,” I say honestly.

“Natalie.” The warning in his voice jars me. “Do us both a favor and don’t look into it.”

“It’s escalating that badly?”

“For now, Reid’s keeping them both in check, but Easton’s been a lot less tolerant of LL since Dallas.”

“Really?” Anxiety spikes. “I’m partially to blame for that. I’ll talk to him.”

Joel goes to object, and I lift my hand.

“I won’t say a word about this discussion or rat you out, I swear. I’ll figure out a way to work it into a conversation.”

“Thanks. See, this is a prime example of when it gets dicey,” he relays.

“I totally understand, but you can trust me,” I promise.

“Why don’t you just enjoy tonight and let them work their testosterone issues out for themselves.”

“I think I will. I can’t believe he sent you for me.”

The pilot announces our flight time to Salt Lake City as our attendant approaches us with champagne and orange juice. Taking both glasses of champagne, I extend one to Joel, bristling with renewed excitement.

“I’m not the only one who needs to enjoy themselves.” Joel eyes the champagne, and I press in. “Come on, Joel, just one. Celebrate with me.”

“Just one,” he says, taking the glass before clinking it with mine.

FORTY-SIX

“Hypnotised”

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