Page 89 of Show biz

Giggling, I run my fingers through his light-brown hair. God, that black eye is awful against his caramel eyes. At least they didn’t break his glasses. The black rim of them may be only a hint darker than the bruised skin underneath it.

“My poor wounded warrior, we’re fine,” I tease. “Hungry and sleepy though.”

“Food is coming, Little Flower, I promise. I was checking in with Ronan, too. I asked him to call up some friends of his to install a camera across from our hotel room,” he explains. “I want to know we're all going to be safe. Someone will watch the door for us while we get some sleep after eating.”

“Someone is coming out at this time of night?” I ask him.

“Yeah, as much as we all haven’t talked in years, Ronan and his brothers don’t like that we’re still in this city. They were morethan happy to be of help,” he explains. “Mr. O’Brien also has his schedule. Asshole.”

Smirking, I shake my head. “My growly men,” I say sleepily.

“At this rate you’ll be falling asleep before food comes,” Draven chuckles.

“I promise to wake you up.” Tyler grins. “Close your eyes, Baby Girl. We got you.”

My eyes get heavier by the second, and I drift away.

TYLER

Today has been so busy, I’m ready to go home and sleep.The Midnight Lights’crew is filled with lazy assholes who won’t be returning after tonight. Laurence is going to get a laundry list of things that I’ll need from him before the next show.

It appears without an iron fist, things behind the scenes go to shit. None of that flies for me, so I’m cleaning house.

Layla looks on in amusement as I fix things. I’m not even micromanaging, it’s just obvious they’re giving this job less than their best. I don’t need my girl getting hurt on stage because of it, or having their equipment not working correctly.

It doesn’t help that I didn’t sleep well last night despite the added security of the video camera. Blowing out a breath, I nod as I watch everyone busy actually working. Sitting in a chair, I pull out my phone to start drafting an email with a list of people I need to replace this tour.

“Already sleeping on the job?” Looking up, I smirk as I see one of the only roadies who actually knows what he’s doing and is willing to do the work.

“Emailing the label,” I explain. “We’re going to need new people for the rest of the tour. I apparently have a very different view of work ethic than some of the people here.”

“We need a hard ass.” Bernie grins. “Jordan wouldn’t have let this shit slide. He’s been in the music circuit for years. Miss seeing him.”

“I’m filling in for the moment,” I say with a tight smile.

“I’ll leave you to it. I can go bark at them now that you’ve laid down the law, and they’ll listen,” he says with a nod.

Jaw tightening, I think about how Jordan is stuck with the head of the mob boss working for him under duress. Layla is heartbroken and wondering if it’s her fault he’s there at all. Shaking my head, I decide it’s definitely Mav’s fault. We wouldn’t have been there to begin with otherwise.

Banging out the email, I struggle to control my breathing. I can’t beat the shit out of someone just because I don’t like their face. I’m definitely too old and mature for that shit. It would feel really good to beat his face in, but I won’t.

“Hey, what did that phone ever do to you?” Draven asks, squatting next to me. “You look terrifying.”

“I’m pissed off and irritated,” I mutter. Poor Laurence is getting an earful right now and I don’t even care.

“Do tell?”

Draven isn’t someone I talk to. Will I fuck the love of my life with him because it makes her happy? Absolutely. Are we braiding each other’s hair? Not a chance.

“I hate people, and I’ve been having to deal with a lot of incompetence today. Also, Mav’s face is bothering me,” I grunt. I finish off the email with a flourish, making sure it was professional and authoritative, and send it off.

I take great pride in the fact that not a single F-bomb squeezed through.

“Do you need to rearrange it?” Draven laughs. “If the asshole didn’t have so many adoring new fans, I may be coerced into holding the ass for you.”

“That’s… Um, thanks?” I say, kind of confused.

“Look, the guy fucked up and I think it’s really sinking in now,” he says, jutting his chin over to where Mav is staring at Layla backstage like a kicked puppy. My girl is ignoring him and Atlas by watching the opening show wrap up.

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