Page 15 of Stuck With My Rockstar Boss
7
Lucas
We’re back on our game in Nashville. The Florida heat (and the Miami partying) zapped our energy, stole our focus. In Orlando, we had to restart our cover of “Young Americans” because one of Chase’s sticks flies out of his hand. It’d be embarrassing if the crowd didn’t love us. Moments like that, I’m grateful for the ferocity of my fans.
Mika and I don’t drink around the world at Epcot, but we do visit the Magic Kingdom because she had never ridden Space Mountain and I thought that was a crime.
When we’re together, I need to remind myself that she’s working for me. She’s literally being paid to be there. It’s not a playdate or hanging out with a friend. So, any time we get a little too close, I push that button in my brain to reset.
I’m having dreams about her. Sometimes sexy, sometimes downright weird. Every time I see her at the beginning of the day, I have to try and bury the fact that I’m thinking about her constantly.
Things with the guys are… strained. They hate that I’m not partying with them. Or something. Maybe they think I’m being a diva. I don’t mean to be hurting their feelings, but I can’t stomach the lifestyle anymore. Part of it is, of course, my anxiety. I’ve never had this problem. In all these twenty years, on all these tours. The other part of it is how hollow it feels. So, we go out and get wasted in another town and let fans flock to us and let them drool over us? End up in bed with some chick? Have mediocre drunk sex?
No thank you. I’m over that. We’re grownups. Of course, that’s part of the fallacy. Rockers never grow up.
Leaving the band is out of the question. It’s not what I want and I could never do that to the guys. No… it’s everything around it I need to get under control.
But anyway: Nashville. It’s a tough crowd. Afterall, it’s Music City, USA. Smashville. They know good music. And luckily, we’re quick to get in their good graces. The crowd is fucking wild tonight. By halfway through our set, most of us are shirtless. As we get set for an acoustic number, Mika, Crystal, and Lee keep the audience happy with an impromptu version of “Suspicious Minds” that is hauntingly beautiful. Elvis would be proud.
We finish the set and do our encore, but the fervor from the crowd doesn’t die down. They want more.
“We gotta go out,” Dylan says, reaching for his guitar that his tech had just snatched from him.
“Well, what are we playing?” Chase asks.
“How about a cover? ‘Black Dog’?” Jay suggests.
I roll my eyes. “They don’t want to hear a Zeppelin cover.”
“You got a better idea?” Jay asks with a cocked smile, elbowing me. At least he tries to keep things light.
Dylan looks to me coolly. “You pick, bro.”
It sounds like he’s giving up. As if no matter what, I’m going to get my way so they might as well just get it over with. “Well, I don’t know…”
I cast a look over at the backup singers who are waiting for us to make a call. Mika smiles at me.
The crowd roars again and the chanting begins. “Soul Sounds! Soul Sounds! Soul Sounds!”
“’Vicky’.”
Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Okay, do you have Kesha on speed dial?” Jay snorts.
“Mika can do it,” I say firmly, looking directly at her.
Mika’s eyes widen. “Me?!”
“Yeah, you know it,” I say, although I’m not too sure she does. I have reckless confidence in her. It was played nonstop on the radio for like three months.
“I mean, yeah, I do…”
The guys exchange wary looks.
“Listen, if we fuck up, we fuck up. But let’s do it. People love that song,” I say, corners of my mouth turning up. “Let’s not phone it in. Let’s make it big.”
Jay is the first to agree. “Fine, I’m in, let’s go.” He bolts onstage and the crowd erupts. Chase follows him.
