Page 25 of Love You Like That (Excess All Areas 4)

Alex jogged alongside her until he was in front of her, his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he signed.

“Not your fault he was a douchebag, but maybe don’t lead with what I do next time. Some men obviously see it as a sure sign I’m an easy lay.”

“I’m sorry,” he signed again.

Zoe sighed. “I’m tired. I’m just going to walk back to the hotel.”

He pointed to himself, then walked his forefinger and middle finger in the air, then pointed at her.

“Fine. And walk is this.” She dragged the same two fingers over her palm lightly.

Alex repeated it. “Like this.”

“Yeah.” She took in the look of concentration on his face. “Just like that.”

Needing a break from looking at stock photographs of guys who could pass for bikers, Zoe wandered over to the main stage where Rich, the tech assigned to Alex, was setting up Alex’s marimba. A humidifier whirred nearby.

She stepped up onto the stage. “Hey, Rich. Is it okay if I move the humidifier?”

He carried on setting up the kit without a glance. “Rich,” she said, louder this time. At least, it felt like it was louder. One of the problems she had sometimes was second-guessing her volume.

When he still didn’t respond, she stepped right in front of him until he looked up with steely eyes. “I said you can’t. The extension cable it’s on won’t reach any further.”

From the shake of his head, his gesture toward the cable, and the words she’d been able to lipread, she put it all together and decided it was a very strong no.

“High humidity is the nemesis of the marimba. You don’t want this much moisture in the air anywhere near it.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Fineshe understood.

“It’s not fine. Wood expands with moisture, and with heat. It contracts in cold. It’s a fickle thing.”

Rich shrugged. “Who made you an expert?” The accusation in his eye told her the comment was snidely made.

Made. Expert.

“I studied percussion at uni.”

Rich began to say something, but he turned to face the equipment.

“I didn’t catch that.”

Alex stormed towards them, his face like thunder. Whatever he said was said with anger, the snarl making it hard to read his lips.

Rich stood, his back to her, facing Alex. Fuck, there were times when it was positively exhausting navigating moments like this. Just as she was about to turn to head back over to the tour bus, Alex put his arm out to stop her.

Facing her, he said, “What’s going on?”

Rich glared at her, daring her to say a word. Zoe rubbed just in front of her ear. She flinched as the background noises filtered through. Everyone sounded as if they had moved to the other end of a soup can through her hearing aids. All echo. “I felt the humidifier near the marimba was unhelpful. Wood and damp don’t mix, especially when the marimba has been boxed up beneath the tour bus in the cold. You know they project sound the best at twenty-three degrees centigrade and low humidity.”

Alex glanced over at the humidifier and unplugged it. “Not so hard, was it.”

“Ben’s going to be pissed. It’s to help the guitars,” Rich said, tipping his head toward the guitar rack. “They need a little moisture in the air to sound good.”

“For fuck’s sakes.” Alex placed his hands on his head. He carried on, speaking quickly. Toured on our own. Never did this. More expletives.

He dragged the guitar rack to the other side of the stage. Quickly followed by the humidifier. He unplugged an amp and plugged in the humidifier.

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