Page 13 of Living on the Edge

Girl broke up with me?

Not a good guy.

So I walked away.

Except my maternal grandmother didn’t give a shit about what the rest of the family wanted for me—she wanted me to be happy. And rich. I got access to my first trust fund when I turned twenty-five, and believe it or not, you can live pretty damn well with ten million in the bank.

I feel a slight pulsing behind my eyes, reminding me that last night’s shenanigans are catching up to me.

Time for a gallon of water, breakfast, and a nap.

Tonight, I’m absolutely hiding in my hotel room with a book.

No parties, no hanging out, and definitely no lusting after a nosy redhead.

* * *

The restof the band looks just as hungover as I am, so the ride to Milwaukee is quiet. I sleep for a while but wake up about an hour from Milwaukee. Everyone else is still asleep and I look around, taking it all in.

We’re traveling by bus on this tour, in a convoy with Nobody’s Fool’s bus. They’re big and roomy, so it’s not like we’re slumming it, but there isn’t a lot of room to stretch out. We all have bunks, but they’re smaller than a twin-size bed so it’s not the most comfortable way to rest after a show. We don’t sleep on the bus often, though. That’s Nobody’s Fool’s rule, and I’m grateful for it.

Usually, we sleep in hotels and then travel to the next city the following day. The semis with all our equipment leave right after each show because it takes them longer and also because they sometimes need hours to set up before we get there.

The crew definitely works harder than we do in that regard.

But we do what we can to take care of them.

My drum tech, Bobby, has been with me a long time.

We met in college, became friends, and he wanted to tag along on my rock and roll journey. He got a job working for Pretty Harts on their final tour before Casey married a European king and went from rock and roll queen to actual royalty. We lost touch for a while, but when things got serious with Crimson Edge, I reached out and asked him to come work for me.

He knows my real identity, of course, but he has no interest in outing me since I supplement his income. He was making a ton more than he makes working for Crimson Edge, but I take care of him. In turn, he takes care of me, both personally and professionally.

“Where are we?” a quiet voice asks.

I turn to see Ryleigh blinking sleepily.

She fell asleep as soon as we got on the bus, wrapped in a light blanket, and now she’s sitting up.

“Almost to Milwaukee,” I reply.

“Thank God. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too.”

“I want a steak,” she murmurs, almost like she’s talking to herself. “With a baked potato and all the toppings. And a big-ass salad.”

“Drowned in ranch,” someone else adds.

I glance in the direction the voice came from and realize it’s Mick.

“And someplace that brings bread to the table,” Tate calls out, though his eyes are still closed.

“Fuck, I’m really hungry now.” Jonny sits up and looks around.

“Let me find a steakhouse close to the hotel,” I say, pulling out my phone.

“Somewhere that’s not too expensive,” Mick mumbles. “Like an Outback Steakhouse.”

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