Page 6 of Stuck With My Rockstar Boss
Mika
This is a bad idea. I just know it’s a bad idea in my gut, but I don’t want it to be a bad idea. Except my heart flutters at the idea of getting to be that close to Lucas so much. Then I remember he’ll be paying me for it and I feel like a glorified escort without the sex and… I sort of wish it included the sex.
When I wake up the next morning, though, I have two things to remind myself of.
One: the money. I need it. My family needs it. My parents just took out a second mortgage on the house. Ever since they quit their jobs and got wrapped up in a glorified pyramid scheme, their finances have been a wreck. I’m not one to just abandon my family, especially not my folks who have always supported me. But it does feel shitty to be parenting my parents.
Two: he needs me. Lucas needs me. He all but begged me to help him. And I feel bad for the guy. He’s a fucking star. He brings joy to thousands with his voice and he can’t even enjoy it.
Okay, it’s settled. I’m doing it.
I head over to the guys’ tour bus bright and early and wrap on the door. To my surprise, Dylan is the one who answers. His light brown hair is frizzed and drooping over his face. He looks almost wired.
“Jeez, what happened to you?”
“Creative night,” he shrugs. “Haven’t been to bed yet.”
Shaking my head, because the guy is nuts, I ask, “Is Lucas up?”
Dylan doesn’t have a chance to answer before Lucas appears. Unlike his friend, he looks well-rested and handsome as ever. Strike that, not handsome. Can’t be handsome if I’m going to be spending all this time with him. “Hey!” he says, a smile on his lips.
“You wanna chat really fast?”
“Totally. Let’s step outside. ‘Excuse me, man,” Lucas shuffles past Dylan who looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion.
We step outside the bus and lean up against the metal siding. “So…” I start.
“So…”
I nibble on the inside of my lip. “I have a pretty jam-packed day. I’m gonna head to Café Du Monde for coffee and then cruise around a bayou, finish off the day hitting up some of the cemeteries and then maybe the French Quarter. If I’m not too tired.”
Lucas frowns and cocks his head to the side.
“Do you think you can keep up?”
His frown creeps into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I can definitely keep up.”
“Good. Come on.”
“Now?”
“It’s already nine AM. Chop chop!”
The tour manager has a fleet of cars for the guys to use. Us backup singers have to share one, but Lucas offers to drive. I can’t refuse being chauffeured around for the day. We head over to the famous Café Du Monde located right on the Mississippi River. We both get a café au lait and a beignet—which Lucas remarks would be a funny lyric—and go for a walk down the river. The whole time, I can feel eyes on us. Luckily, Lucas doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb in his day to day. He’s wearing an Astros baseball cap to hide his hair, a nondescript plain dark green t-shirt, khaki shorts, and is hiding his eyes behind his glasses. But we’re both on-guard. I’m not sure who is looking because they think they recognize him and who is looking just to look.
The conversation is small and casual. Nothing deep. It feels like any moment he will turn to me and say, “This is a mistake,” but he doesn’t, and we hop in the car to head out to the bayou which is across town on Lake Ponchartrain. The car ride is quiet except for the bristling of music on the radio, until Lucas speaks: “Didn’t take you for an outdoors girl.”
I snort. “Sorry?”
“I mean, you know. Like, some girls are indoor girls and other girls are outdoor girls.”
“I think you mean some people,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Some people are indoor and some– “
“Right, sorry,” he says with a nod. He hadn’t meant anything by it, and I know that. But I wanted to see his reaction anyway. “I just mean… I wouldn’t take you for being someone, a person who likes being outdoors.”
I smile at his correction. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never spent a lot of time with you on a normal day. I usually see you all dolled up rather than… ready for the bayou.”
