Page 10 of Stuck With My Rockstar Boss
I push him away from the bunk and pull the curtain back closed. I bury my head in the pillow.
Fuck this.
When I see Mika later, I can’t help but be a little shy. I hope it just comes off as aloofness rather than disrespect. But from the moment she meets me at the tour bus and smiles her smoky smile, I’m overcome with the memory of coming to the thought of her.
That immediately drifts away when I’m reminded of the swaths of fans waiting to get into the venue and all of the people that will be milling about backstage during soundcheck. I never know if someone’s a hanger-on or has somehow finagled their way in by charming a security guard.
Mika seems to notice my nervousness. “You alright?”
I nod unconvincingly.
She casts a look over her shoulder. If there weren’t other people around, she’d probably reach out and touch my bicep to steady me or to give off the impression that people should back off. I know we’re trying to keep this arrangement on the DL and I don’t want to compromise her job if that’s really what it comes down to. I’ll settle for imagining her hand on me. That alone steadies my pulse.
Once we’re in the venue, we head to soundcheck and then we do the gig. We’re a little tired, I think. Getting used to life on the road again, having come down off that opening night high. It’s okay though, the audience still loves it. Luckily, at our worst, we’re still better than most.
Mika, though, is never at her worst. Her voice always sails above the fray, cuts just right. I think she’s got the nicest voice out of the background singers. It’s a shame that’s not her real passion. She could really make something of herself. Hell, I’d produce the record myself. I’ve even thought about asking the guys if they want to work in a song off our last album, ‘Vicky’; Kesha featured on the track so it would need a female vocal. I think Mika would do amazing.
After the show, we all retreat to our respective buses. I’m a little disappointed to see Mika go, but she pinches my arm and says, “Speedo tomorrow,” with a mischievous smirk.
Beaches in Miami are going to be teeming with people. I’m going to need to get good rest and really prepare for the onslaught that might happen. When I get onto the bus, the guys are already frantically changing out of their sweaty show clothes.
“Why are you just standing there?” Chase says, throwing a towel at me. “Jump in the shower! We’re going out.”
I catch the towel and shake my head. “Thanks, but y’all go out. I’m good.”
Chase exchanges a look with Jay who has already managed to freshen up in record time, having put on his trademark Hawaiian. “Man, come on,” Jay says with a smile. “You didn’t go out in NOLA.”
“So?” I ask with a shrug, taking a seat on the couch that extends down one of the bus walls.
“So, you’re missing out on all the fun!” he adds with a grin.
“I have plenty of fun onstage. That’s where I have fun,” I say coldly. I grab the remote control for the television of the bench beside me and flick on the TV. The local news is on and, even though it’s not usually my cup of tea, I fixate on it in order to tune out the rest of the world.
“When did you become a stick in the mud?” Chase asks. I know he’s trying to be funny, but it just gets my blood pumping faster.
My head starts to beat. I feel my chest constricting. “It’s just not a good night, okay?” I answer.
“It’s always a good night to party in Miami,” Jay says. “The venue arranged a whole afterparty, it’s gonna be–“
“Think about the girls!” Chase exclaims. “Think about the action.”
“Oh my god, is that all you two think about?” I growl. “That’s really fucking lame. We’re over thirty. Time to spend more time taking care of ourselves than chasing tail.”
Jay and Chase exchange a look. “I know what you need,” Chase says suddenly and then calls over his shoulder, “Dylan!”
Ah, fuck.
From the back of the bus, Dylan tumbles down the hall and out of the shower, only a towel covering his lower half. His hair is still sudsy with shampoo. “What? What?!”
“We need your help. Lucas doesn’t want to go out,” Chase replies.
“Lucas, baby, why don’t you want to go out? In Miami?? City of dreams?? You need to get some fresh air.” Dylan begins, gesturing with his hands so emphatically I’m afraid his towel is going to fall off.
“Apparently, Lucas has gone hermit,” Chase grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s getting frustrated with me. He’s been getting annoyed with me for months ever since I’ve retreated from the usual band antics.
Dylan tries again. “Okay, even I’m going out tonight. Please don’t make me suffer these two alone?”
“I hope you guys enjoy your night, but nothing will force me out tonight,” I say and anxiously get to my feet. My chest tightens more and more. I aimlessly pace back and forth.
