Page 21 of Before Now

“Hey, Remi,” I say, my lips turned up even though she can’t see me.

A few more seconds pass. “Hey, Foster.”

I smile the rest of the way.

8

REMI

Now…

I’ve always dreamedof being fully immersed in my work. Of shooting a documentary where I live, breathe, and sleep the subject. I just never really thought through the sleeping part until right now, awkwardly standing with my camera bag slipping off my shoulder in front of a luxury bus.

The band just finished kicking off the last leg of their tour with a show in LA. I’ve been filming with my handheld ever since they stampeded off the stage. Loving every second of the excitement of finally getting on the road. Even if it is mostly B-roll of cables being wound and bags flinging into storage beneath the buses. The power of adventure intoxicates.

At least it did until a few seconds ago when the coordinator directed me to a bus. The one without the band’s faces on the side. The discreet one, lower profile for the higher-profile occupants.

Glory and Nate—my assistants for cam and audio—disappeared onto the other bus a few minutes ago with the rest of our equipment. The bus I should be on. I can easily film footage on the road by riding with the band a few hours here and there if that’s what the label’s worried about.

I’m hesitating outside the bus, about to go object when a hot body brushes by me. Foster’s arm grazes mine, causing him to pause on the bus’s steps and look over his shoulder. He quirks a brow, seeing me below. I can’t help but take it as a challenge, and with a dismissive shake of his head, he makes up my mind for me.

I readjust my bag’s strap and climb up behind him.

Christian’s waiting at the top with a smile, even as he dodges Foster. I force something similar onto my face. I slip by him and stop to survey the lounge area. Two sweaty rock stars already cover one of the expansive couches lining each side. Plush and overstuffed with the worn-in throw pillows tossed out of the way.

Felix sinks deeper into the dark charcoal cushions. “Welcome home.”

He slaps Dev on the chest with a flat palm, and the bassist throws me a smirk.

I scoped out the buses earlier today. I ran my fingers over the pristine leather of the couches, opened the microwave in the kitchenette for no reason. The four spacious bunks deeper on the bus are twice the size of the six on the other one. Worthy of rock gods in the making.

I’m flashing back to sleep-away camp and trying to recall which bunk is best when Colton appears from behind the drape that separates the back from the front. My brows slant together.

“You’re sleeping on this one too?”

He stalls his steps. “Where else would I sleep?”

Four of these guys. Four bunks.

“Doing the math?” Christian asks, and I cut him a look. “Have no fear, gorgeous. I took care of you.”

His eyes shift, and mine follow to carved-out footholds in the wall. I missed them earlier. They lead up to what looks like a loft space above the cabin.

“Roomiest digs on the bus,” he says.

I question that but try another quick smile before taking the ladder. My head breaches first, and I stop. A queen mattress waits for me, fresh bedding and extra pillows. A small ledge borders three sides of the bed. A foot or so of space by the ladder already has my bags with more room to spare. I can’t help the real smile that curves my lips.

I rush the rest of the way up and drop my camera bag with the others before I flop onto the bed. Flipping over, I blow out air and stare up through the skylight perfectly centered above me. Not much to see now, but I can already imagine the stars as we cross the country. Muted sounds filter up from below. A cushioned beat of bass. Someone laughs.

I close my eyes and listen in what feels like a room all to myself.

* * *

I anglethe camera to avoid any reflection as I shoot out the tinted window. The image through the viewfinder shows the road’s shoulder across from us. Palm trees whip by as we meet cars on the highway.

“You ever stop with that?”

My eyes flick to Colton, his mouth lifted on one side.

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