Page 76 of Give Me What I Want

But her body wasn’t ready for that. So I, and no doubt the others too, resigned myself to jerking off in the shower every day, just like I had done way back at the start of this tour. Like I had done for months before too. And in the darkest moments, I had wondered if I could fuck one of the guys, just for a decent goddamn release. Just to push out the darkness that crept in during those silent moments at night. But I always came to my senses. I could handle a couple of weeks; she was more to me than sex anyway. All of them were.

She wasn’t just some girl I was sleeping with. And she wasn’t just my bandmate either. I wanted more from her, but I had this feeling that it would be a long time until it felt safe to ask for that. What Jordan had done had set us all back. She said that she trusted us all, but there was something in her eyes that told me she wasn’t entirely telling the truth. She was waiting, waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I didn’t want to be the cause. I wouldn’t betray her or leave her, or…

“Are you alright, Maverick?” I looked up to find Kelly staring down at me, one of my other guitars in hand and a set of my favourite strings in the other. Her hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail that swished from side to side as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, frowning up at her.

She laughed, then sat down beside me, ripping open the pack of strings and making fast work of removing the ones on my Gibson. “Because you’ve put your strings on upside down…” Kelly bit her lip, holding back another laugh at she inclined her head towards the guitar in my lap.

I looked down and found each of my E strings sitting in the entirely wrong places. Cursing under my breath, I twisted the tuning pegs and started again, rearranging the strings and tightening them in place as Kelly sat beside me doing the same thing. We worked quickly, both staring down at the instruments in our laps, until she had finished, barely a second before me and grinned as she lifted her head.

“You’re getting sloppy, Maverick,” she teased. “The fame must be going to your head.”

“Speed and quality do not go hand in hand. This will take barely a minute to tune.” I lifted my guitar, slipping the strap over my head. “And that will take at least five.” I nodded at my other guitar.

“We’ll see about that,” Kelly said, lifting the strap over her own head. “Starting now.”

I bowed my head, tested my strings, then made a couple of minor tweaks. Less than a minute later I strummed once, and the most beautiful sound left the Stratocaster.

“That,” I said cockily, flopping against the back of the sofa with a smug smirk on my face. “Is how it’s done.”

“Alright, show off,” Kelly laughed. Still fiddling with the Gibson until she received my nod of approval. Then her face dropped, turning serious. “I suppose I better get off. Things to do. Wouldn’t want your show to not run smoothly, huh?”

She got to her feet, and something panged in my chest. Kelly was awesome, the best roadie we had, and I was a dick to her, constantly. But just now, we’d had fun, even for just a moment, and it made me think back to when we were fresh on the scene, when we were still classed as up-and-coming, not world fucking famous. Kelly had been there from the start, and back then I had liked her. We got on well. Then I went and got too big for my boots and started to treat her like crap.

“Kelly,” I blurted, and she turned, slipping the guitar to her back to carry.

“What can I do for you, Maverick?” All spark had left her, and she looked defensive, like she was waiting for me to bark at her.

“Accept an apology?” I asked, and her mouth popped open. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. Honestly, Kelly, you’re the best in the business, and I’d be lost without you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do trust you. I might not like the way you do things and the choices you make, but you’ve never done us wrong. You’re too damn good for us really, but I don’t want you to leave us, ever. So if you can accept my apology, I’ll start being nicer to you.”

Her lips twitched, then curved up slightly. “And if I don’t accept? Will you be more of a dick?”

She was teasing me. I strummed the guitar, pretending to need to seriously think about it, and then met her gaze with a dark grin. “I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“You really are the devil.” She laughed. “Fine, I’ll accept. Could’ve done this earlier in the tour though, dude. We only have four more shows.”

“And I will be a delight to work with, aren’t you a lucky duck.”

“Quack quack,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and walking away with a wave. “Put that guitar back where you found it when you’re done with it.”

“Or what?” I called after her.

She paused, glanced over her shoulder, and grinned. “I’ll makeyourlife a living hell.”

Chuckling to myself, I played my guitar for a while, then decided that I was hungry and should probably eat before the show. So I got up, put the guitar back, like a good boy, then strolled out of the back of the venue, down an alley, and up onto the bus where I found Bea, Cole, and Ronan eating meatballs.

“There’s a portion for you in the oven,” Ro said. “It should still be hot.”

“Thanks.” I threw him a grateful smile, slipped off my shoes, and went to retrieve the scolding hot bowl from the oven.

We all ate together, just like we did every night, and for the first time since Jordan’s betrayal, since we had kicked him off of our bus, I didn’t feel like something was missing. I didn’t look at the empty space where he’d usually have been sat and wonder where it had all gone so wrong. I didn’t sit and worry about the future of our band, because we didn’t have a second guitarist. I just ate my food and enjoyed the company of the remaining family that I had left. My joker best friend, the girl I loved, and Ronan. Fucking Ronan.

“Edinburgh, you’ve been incredible tonight, thank you for having us,” I shouted into the mic as Bea ran across the stage to Ro and kissed him, sending the fans wild.

I went on, charming the adoring faces that stared up at us as the team backstage ran around like crazy getting everything ready for our encore. It was the same every night, and I’d keep talking my ass off until someone came through my earpiece, usually Mark, telling me it was time to come off stage.

Then, behind the curtain, we huddled close, staying out of the way of the people working their asses off. It was an effort to not lean over to Bea and kiss her cheek, something I couldn’t do right now, not with our stand-in guitarist at my other side.

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