Page 43 of Fire
We’ve already done three encores, and this crowd is so wild they’d gladly take a dozen more. But Ash gives a final wave, his shirt long since tossed into the crowd. His hair is slick with sweat, and his tattooed body glistens.
The girls in the front row go fucking nuts, hoping he’ll single one of them out to go backstage. But he doesn’t.
He never does.
He gives us the signal, a quick thumbs up to the crowd, and Darius and I give a quick wave and make our exit first. I hand off my bass to one of the roadies as someone else removes my earpiece and hands me a towel and a water bottle.
I down that sucker in two gulps.
“Christ, that was bloody brilliant,” Darius exclaims, nearly breathless from chugging his own bottle of water. “I fucking love Nashville.”
“I didn’t think they’d be so energetic, considering…” I say, just as breathless. The heat from the lights and the buzz from the crowd have me amped and exhausted all at the same time.
“They’re known for country music here?” Someone offers us both another water as the crowd roars, and I see Zander and Ash leaving the stage. They’re both laughing and slapping each other on the back. “Nah. This city just loves music, period. Can’t you feel it?”
I stare blankly at him. “Feel what?”
“The love, mate. That crowd? They’re buzzing. Giving us nothing but pure love.”
When I stand on the stage, I definitely feel something from the crowd. Whether it’s love, I’m not sure. Excitement? Sure. Lust? Definitely.
Whatever it is, it’s better than any high I could ever chase, and now that I’ve experienced it at this level, with twenty thousand screaming fans surrounding me, I don’t ever want to go back.
I see a tornado of chocolate-brown hair fly by me as Elena throws herself into Zander’s waiting arms. His hands possessively palm her ass, and then they’re practically mauling each other, right there, in front of the whole damn crew.
“Fuck,” Darius curses. “That’s hot.”
Asher joins us and promptly whacks the back of his head. “Ease up with the staring, yeah? If Zander sees you, I’ll need a new bloody drummer.”
“Tell me how, mate? When he’s squeezing her peachy little arse like that. Ooh, speaking of peaches.” His attention turns sharply away from Zander and Elena, and as I follow his wandering gaze, I see Zara heading our way. She’s still wearing her white lab coat, and her silky brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Just as she notices us, Darius gives a flirty little wave.
“No.”
“What?” He glances back toward me. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean exactly that, Dar. No. Zara is off limits. She’s too important to the tour for you to pursue for one of your late-night hookups.”
I glance back in her direction and see that she’s joined Elena and Zander, who have managed to pull apart. Zander sneaks a glance my way, and I give him a slight shake of my head. He nods.
He will keep the girls away until this little matter is settled.
“Woah.” He holds up both hands, feigning innocence. “Who said I was going after her?” Asher and I just stare at him, not saying a word. He instantly folds like a house of cards. “All right, fine. Maybe the thought crossed my mind, yeah? But can you blame me? I mean, have you had a look at her? I can’t imagine what she looks like under that white coat with all those lush curves?—”
“Stop,” I growl. I didn’t realize I had taken a step forward, but now we’re practically nose to nose. “Not another fucking word.”
I see a brief moment of confusion before something clicks, and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Oh, I see.” He takes a casual step back. “You want her. That’s what this is all about. It’s not about me or what’s best for the bloody tour. No, you want her all for yourself.”
I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. I look over at Asher, and his expression is a blank canvas as he just watches the exchange between us. He already knows Zara and I hooked up, but that’s about the extent of what he knows. What anyone knows, for that matter.
My family was generous enough not to ask for details that night when it all came out, thanks to my former favorite sister, Presley. They were more worried about how it might complicateour relationship and the tour. Somehow, I managed to convince them it wouldn’t—on both counts.
I’m not sure how any of them fell for all the lies I was feeding them, when I barely believe it myself. But I went into this tour trying to convince myself it would all be fine, that Zara Valentine would not be an issue. And now here I am, three stops in, ready to rip the head off our drummer for even thinking he might have a shot with her.
Yeah, totally not an issue.
Fucking hell.
“That’s not it at all,” I lie. “I’m simply looking out for her. Zara and I are good friends. We go way back, and I know this job is important to her.”
