Beat (Life on Stage 2)

A frown pulls at Dylan’s lips. He wasn’t in a good mood to begin with, and Flynn’s presence doesn’t do much to enhance it. “I skip breakfast most days,” he mumbles, as if it’s an annoyance to even have to respond.

Flynn’s lips twitch as he brings the bottle to his mouth again.

Ten minutes later, Dylan declines a Rockband video game challenge in favor of taking a nap.

The minute the door to the back closes, Flynn grabs another beer and plops down next to me at the table. “Skips meals. Naps.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Must suck to get old.”

I crinkle up my napkin and throw it at his face. “You’re in a devil mood tonight, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Must have been the way my morning started.”

“I think you should sit on the other side of the room.”

“Can’t keep your hands off me this close?” He takes my fork and pops a ravioli into his mouth.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?”

“I wasn’t. Guess I just get hungry for a good meal when I come closer to you.”

A loud female moan comes from the back of the bus. Duff and his date were at it half the afternoon; guess he caught his second wind. The female voice gets louder. “Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh.”

“Sounds like Duff might be having a late breakfast.”

I feel my cheeks blush.

Flynn surprises me by getting up and pulling the door closed. Then he turns on Rockband, letting the sounds drown the rest of the moans out. He hands me one of the plastic guitars and waits for the game to start, not looking at me when he speaks. “New tour bus, huh?”

Of course, we didn’t really have any discussion this morning, and the last time I walked away from him was after Dylan suggested I’d agreed to go on tour with him. “Dylan asked me to go on tour with Easy Ryder long-term. I didn’t agree,” I clarify.

The music starts up and Flynn begins to press the buttons on the guitar handle. He doesn’t even have to focus much to hit all the notes. “He asked and you said no?”

Not exactly. “I suppose I didn’t give him a definitive answer.”

“What will your answer be? Is this how you see us a few months from now? When In Like Flynn joins Easy Ryder on the tour? Sneaking away when we can?”

I shake my head. I wish I had a better answer to give him. But honestly, I still have no idea how any of this will wind up playing out. I’m afraid to trust my heart blindly again.

He nods and says nothing more. We play together for hours, laughing and falling back into that comfortableness we’ve had since the first day we met. Only, we’d never let anyone see our true relationship. Eventually Duff and his date come out and join us, and the two guys battle it out on the guitars, cursing and drinking beer. It’s not until Dylan walks back out into the lounge and eyes us strangely that I realize the relationship that Flynn and I have is starting to bleed through. We’re no longer able to hide the bond that has grown between us, even when we try.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Flynn

The last of my anonymity fades into oblivion as we walk into Club Sixty-Six in Vegas. In Like Flynn has toured before—I’d even been on TV—but after only a few weeks with Easy Ryder the vague recognition I was used to seeing on people’s faces changed into instant identification.

Mick looks over at me as a group of women swarm us the minute we walk inside. Together we sign autographs on the way to the VIP area. More than one woman slips me her number. Instead of tempting me, it makes me wonder if Dylan really does indulge when Lucky isn’t around. It’s not really a question one can ask directly without raising suspicion.

“I can understand why no one brings their wives and girlfriends on for the whole tour,” I say to Mick as we reach the bar and order two shots. We’re the first two from the band here.

The bartender pours two tequila shots and Mick lifts one into the air with a toast. “Over the gums and down the hatch, keep the wives at home and collect the snatch.”

I drink to his anthem with a chuckle, but then step out on a limb. “How is all that gonna work when Lucky’s shacked up in the bus permanently?”

“It’ll slow Dylan down, that’s for damn sure. But I’d bet the bus it doesn’t stop him from his visits with Jamie.”

“Jamie?” I don’t let on that Duff has already filled me in.

“Retired porn star. Been seeing her for a decade. Mark my words, Ryder will go missing one night while we’re here in Sin City.” He motions to the bartender for another round. “No ring is going to change that shit.”

Ring? A figure of speech, I hope. “Him and Lucky aren’t engaged.”

“Not yet. Think he’s planning on popping the question when we get out to LA.”

I only realize how much I drank when I stand to go in search of a men’s room and stumble up the step from the sunken bar. Turning back, I curse the step. “Who put that fucking thing there?”

Shit just goes downhill from there. Returning to the bar, I find Dylan, his arm wrapped around Lucky’s tiny waist. Even the simple touch bothers me tonight. Maybe it’s the familiarity his hands have on her body, I’m not really sure, but I find myself staring at his fingers. I’ve known what I was getting myself into from the get-go, yet anger bubbles from within tonight.

A petite young woman with dark hair, tan skin and pale blue eyes works at capturing my attention from a few feet away. Her eyes are so pale, with lashes so thick and dark, they hold me captive for a beat too long. She smiles, her tongue swiping over her glossed lips, then she leans in and whispers something to her friend.

My attention is diverted from the pretty little lady when Dylan says something to Lucky I can’t hear and then kisses her on the lips. The alcohol has slowed my response time and, when he releases her mouth, he turns and finds me staring. His eyes meet mine, and in some sort of unspoken challenge, he turns back to Lucky and kisses her again. Really kisses her.

I clutch the beer bottle in my hand so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break. Pale Eyes calls my attention away from the car accident in front of me. “Are you…Flynn Beckham?”

“That’s me.” I smile¸ turning on the charm. “And you are…let me guess…the woman with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Pale Eyes giggles innocently, but the way she’s looking at me is in stark contrast to the sound. “I have tickets to the show tomorrow night.” She takes a step closer and runs the nail of her pointer finger down my chest.

It’s been a while, but it’s just like riding a horse…so to speak. “And what are your plans for tonight?”

Her eyes light up and she cocks her head coyly. “Whatever you want.”

Duff chuckles next to me. “Don’t forget your old pal Duff.” He turns to Pale Eyes’ friend and says, “You and me should probably stay with them. Looks like they could use a chaperone.”

If I wasn’t feeling like such a selfish bastard at the moment, Lucky’s face would shred me alive. Instead, I focus on the hand still wrapped possessively around her waist. I raise my eyes to meet hers before speaking to Pale Eyes, although my gaze doesn’t leave Lucky’s. “I’m starving. Haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. What do you say we get out of here and take care of my appetite?”