Page 34 of Reverb
He doubted he would, but it was a nice sentiment. “Thanks, Ray. You, too.” He turned away and headed to the crew bus, the shifting of the gravel under his feet an echo of Ray’s steps back toward the band’s bus. Where Mish was.
He shook his head and climbed onto the bus. The soft murmurs of the crew halted when he boarded, and they all looked at him.
“Hey,” he said, and slipped past the folks who hadn’t yet crawled into their berths, intent on his own.
“David.” It was Faith, and she held out a mug. “Take this.”
He did, and peered down into it—but it was the scent that gave the whiskey away. “God.” He breathed in the fumes, then swallowed a huge mouthful, both wincing at the burn and loving every painful second as the heat slid down his throat and the alcohol into his bloodstream. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You did good tonight.”
Why did everyone keep thinking that?
“I did shitty tonight.” His next swallow wasn’t quite so large. He leaned against the wall close to his berth.
“You chased down and caught that dude.”
“I should have never let him near Mish.”
Faith shrugged. “He had a wristband. Not like you could have stopped him.”
David blinked at the booze in his mug and then at Faith. “He had a wristband?”
She nodded, confusion in her eyes. “Yeah, you know. For the signing event. You had to buy them in advance, kinda like the VIP encounter—but a lot cheaper.”
Despite the alcohol seeping into his system, David’s brain processed that information. He knew the dude’s name. “Is it like with the VIP—the person who orders needs to pick up the wristband?”
“Yeah. Name on the ID needs to match.”
Maybe they could figure out who bought him the ticket. Follow the money.
David drank down the rest of the whiskey and handed the mug back to Faith. “Thank you. I needed that. And not just the booze.”
She gave him a lopsided grin. “Go to bed, hotshot. That lead will be there in the morning.”
Despite not thinking he’d be able to sleep, as soon as David’s head hit the pillow, the warmth of the booze and the rhythmic swaying of the bus on the highway dropped him straight into darkness and oblivion.
Chapter Eight
Crusty morning eyes were theworst. Mish spent a couple of minutes lying in her berth blinking and rubbing the gunk out of her eyes so she wouldn’t look like she’d spent a good portion of the night crying into her pillow. Fucking tears. Once they started, they were so hard to turn off. Damn Ray for being so understanding and giving her the affection she needed.
She loved the man, inside and out—a brother from another mother, as the saying went.
It was early, but the others were moving around the bus, given the murmurs, the clink of ceramic, and the wonderful smell of Adrian’s coffee. When she was sure she only looked like deathhalfwarmed over and not completely, she crawled out of her berth and stumbled to the bathroom. Emotional hangovers were worse than alcoholic ones. She didn’t get drunk that often, but when she did, she could blame the nausea and headache on being foolish.
This wasn’t foolishness, but her life. Emotions she couldn’t bottle up and some dude doing what they so often did—made her life hell because they thought she was public property. Or worse, their property.
When she returned to the front of the bus, Adrian handed her a steaming hot mug of black coffee, and she could have kissed him for that. Whatever magic he wove with those beans of his, he’d taken their tour bus coffee from fine to transcendent. “Thanks.”
His smile was sleepy. “No problem.” He claimed Dom’s seat, since Dom hadn’t emerged from his berth.
Zavier and Ray were in their usual spots—opposite ends of the same bench, legs twined with each other. They had similar expressions, but it was Ray who asked the inevitable question. “How do you feel?”
Mish pursed her lips and stared into the depths of her coffee. Shaken. Unbalanced. It wasn’t a good place to be, especially since they had a concert tonight. She didn’t want to tell them that, but they’d vowed to be honest with each other.
She took a sip of coffee and sat next to Adrian. “Fragile. It’s—” She shook her head, trying to sweep the dust bunnies from her mind. “I think once we get to the next place and I can get on stage, I’ll be better.” Too much time to think on the bus.
Ray grunted. “Yeah, I hear you. Performing’s the best. It’s all that exists when you’re doing it.”
