Maybe she should be offended by his crass compliment, but it made her heart sing. She couldn’t help but smile when he took her hand and led her into the venue through the back entrance.
The stage had already been assembled by a combination of temporary workers and Sinners’ regular roadies. Marcus was barking orders like a general. He scowled when he noticed Rebekah. That scowl deepened when he saw that Eric was holding her hand.
“Your drums are behind the stage,” Marcus said, before turning to find some other temp to bellow at.
“He doesn’t like me,” Rebekah told Eric.
“Do I need to kick his ass?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“I’ll do it. I will. Say the word.”
“Stop it, Eric. Let’s get your drum kit set up.”
They started with the bass drums. He explained how important it was to get the three of them in the proper order. “Or I’ll sound like shit.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
They worked on the toms next and then the cymbals. He placed his stool in the center of the kit and took a seat. “Something’s missing,” he said. “Something that usually sits between my legs here.” He pointed to the empty space between his thighs with both hands.
“Your snare?”
He tugged her body in front of him. “Nope, it’s you.”
He retrieved a set of drumsticks from the inner pocket of his black leather vest and tapped a cymbal to his left before entering into an amazing drum solo. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep a beat and try to remove her shirt with his teeth at the same time, but she was laughing so hard by the time he finished that her stomach ached. He had a couple inches of her belly exposed and blew a loud raspberry on her skin. She laughed even harder.
“My snare sounds a little off. I think a few adjustments are necessary,” he said.
She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his lower back. “Is that better?”
“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Maybe move it a bit closer so I can reach it properly.”
She snuggled against him, pressing her br**sts into his hard chest, her face into his neck. She inhaled his scent and couldn’t seem to stop herself from sucking gentle kisses over his throat.
“Gah! Boner time,” he said and wrapped both arms around her to shift her closer. He wasn’t just saying that to make her giggle until her cheeks hurt. He really was hard. She felt him against her mound.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing the heat between her thighs against him. He groaned and kissed her forehead. “If you don’t stop encouraging me, I’m going to tell you all the things I want to do to your hot little body and embarrass the hell out of you.”
“Try me,” she murmured, kissing the sexy cleft in his chin and then sucking his lower lip into her mouth.
“Are you going to f**k her right here in front of everyone?” an unfamiliar voice said from the other side of the drum kit.
Rebekah swiveled her head and caught a glimpse of Jon Mallory before Eric and the stool toppled backward, taking her with it. A cymbal clanged.
“Ow,” Eric protested.
His body had cushioned her fall.
“Are you okay, Reb?” Eric asked.
She grinned at his concern. “Me? You’re the one who hit
the floor.”
“Who’s the girl?” Jon asked, circling the drum kit and offering a hand to Eric. Rebekah tried not to stare. Jon had aged twenty years since she’d seen him on TV last and that had only been five years ago.
“Our new FOH,” Eric said, climbing to his feet and helping Rebekah scrape herself off the floor.
“No shit? What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She offered Jon a friendly smile. “Rebekah.”
“Jon.”
“Well, yeah. I think I know who you are.”
He grinned, his gray eyes sweeping up her body. “I suppose this is the reason Marcus has his panties all in a bunch. He about took my head off when I asked him where my bass was.”
“He best be getting over it,” Eric grumbled.
Rebekah understood why Marcus was upset, but she wasn’t going to relent and give up her position as FOH, even if he did have seniority. She had to live up to Dave’s expectations, and the band’s, and most importantly, her own. “I suppose I should get to work on the mics,” she said. “You guys ready to rehearse?”
“I’d rather keep you as my snare,” Eric said and wrapped both arms around her back.
“Sounds pretty violent,” Jon said.
“Keeps her between my legs.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be between hers?”
“Maybe someday,” she said and wriggled out of Eric’s grasp.
She shuffled through equipment cases and found the microphones she’d read about in Dave’s notes the day before. She set them up from memory, making sure they were in the right location and the perfect distance from the drumheads.
“You sure you haven’t done this before?” Eric asked as he watched her set things up.
“I have done this before. In college and on-the-job training. I just never got paid before. Besides, Dave gave great instructions.” Speaking of, she’d left the notebook in the equipment truck. She’d probably need it to figure out the wiring configuration. “I’ll be right back.” She headed out of the venue and into the truck, which was now empty. The amplifier she’d left her notebook on was gone. The notebook, also gone. Rebekah’s heart sank. She raced back into the building and found Jake changing the strings on one of Trey’s guitars.
“Hey, Jake, have you seen a wire-bound notebook with a black cover? I left it on an amp in the truck, and it’s gone.”
“Sorry, sweetie, haven’t seen it. Maybe Marcus or Travis know where it is.”
Rebekah asked Travis next. She really hoped Marcus hadn’t been the one to find it. He’d probably give her a hard time for needing it. Travis was helping someone she hadn’t met set up a light panel behind the drums. “Hey, Travis!” she called. “Have you seen a notebook around here? I left in the truck.”
“Sorry, sugar, haven’t seen it.”
“I think Marcus might have it,” the temporary roadie said.
Great.
“What’s the matter, Reb?” Eric asked. He had his snare in place now and was shifting his drums and cymbals around slightly to get them lined up to his preferred specifications.