Hard Rider

His beady little eyes positively glowered, but he didn’t lose his temper. However, he did seem to evaluate the circumstances, because there was a pause before he finally opened his fat, ignorant mouth again.

“Okay. Fine. Be the fucking prima donna,” my unsightly manager finally muttered. “The bitch – the girl stays,” he quickly corrected himself, “so long as she ain’t a liability. She stays out of my way, she doesn’t interfere with the band, or your performance, and she can stay.”

I let go of his cuff. “Deal.”

“We’ve only got, like, five or six shows left anyway. Don’t go fucking this up for some pussy.”

I contemplated knocking him out, but chose to take the high road. I met his sneer with a furious curl of my lip before letting myself onto the bus.

The others were loitering around the kitchen and entertainment areas. Dylan and Terence were playing Mario Kart on one of the game consoles we kept hooked up to the big-screen TV.

Waylon, however, was contemptuously watching me with a disdainful frown. As I tried to walk past, he stepped in front with his arms crossed, his greasy, lean frame almost comical in threat level.

“What’s this fuckery about you coming in late with some wet-behind-the-ears chick?” He asked me pointedly.

“It doesn’t concern you,” I told him distantly.

“Actually, it does. It means I’ve gotta miss lunch. You know how much I hate missing lunch? It makes me all cranky, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Right…”

He let the thought trail.

With a sigh, I took the bait.

“What’s the problem?”

“What was your rule with the bus?”

I fucking knew he was going to pull this.

“…No girls.”

“Right…” the thought trailed again. “Except, funnily enough, just saw one. Only, the rest of us? We’re already here. She came from your direction. Wanna, you know, clue us in on that?”

The others were listening now.

I growled inwardly.

It was time to lay down the law again.

“She’s not going to be a problem. I’m taking her home with me. She’s going to stay out of sight, you understand?”

Waylon deliberated on this for a moment.

“Yeah. Guess so. Even at the shows, right?”

“What?”

“Well, you know, special treatment and all. Unless you want to rub it in our faces, that is. If she’s staying out of sight, that means she’s not leaving the bus for the shows. That’s only fair, wouldn’t you say?”

“What difference does it make if she watches us play?”

Waylon smiled cruelly.

“Well, here’s a scenario: I’m playing. I’m rocking out. Having a good old time.

“I look over, who am I gonna see? Bam. It’s your broad. I lose my focus. I start missing chords. What a distraction, am I right? It’s just a total slap to the face. Here’s the fearless leader’s girl, where’s mine? Oh right. Can’t have one. My thoughts start wandering, my fingers start missing chords…”

I swallowed back my burning temper. I’d have been more up for this shit if Steven hadn’t already put me in a filthy fucking mood. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to assault my guitarist, then go back outside and lose my shit with the manager.

Neither of which were acceptable.

“You see where I’m going with this?” He asked, feigning politeness. “It’s just a total bummer, but easily avoidable.”

“Fine,” I growled. “I’m too tired for this shit. You win. She stays on the bus during shows. On one condition.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She stays out of your sight? You stay out of hers. Don’t go near her, don’t speak to her, don’t even think about messing with her. You understand?”

Waylon smiled wickedly.

“Heh. Yeah, all right then. Have it your way, boss. The girl and I steer clear of one another. She stays in that cage of yours until we’re home, I don’t mess with her.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

It made me look weak to give into his demands in front of the others, but I was exhausted.

I was also struggling to understand what I was really hoping to accomplish with all of this.

Seriously? Bringing her onto the bus?

Taking her back home with you?

What the FUCK are you thinking?

I couldn’t explain it, but I barely had the energy to keep standing. Instead, I gave a brisk nod to the others – who quietly returned my acknowledgement – and stumbled towards the back of the bus.

Once in my room, I spotted Angel seated on the edge of my bed. Her backpack was slumped in a corner, still zipped up and ready to go.

With a heavy sigh, I let my fatigue finally settle in. Was it worth it? Was it worth ostracizing my band, my manager, and my entire meal ticket for this chick?

Angel looked up at me softly, a few strands of her hair falling in front of her eyes. It was clear that she sensed the conflict – hell, maybe she’d even heard that asshole talking shit.

“I can go if you need me to,” she whispered sadly.

“Where I need you is here,” I murmured.

What? Seriously?

It was like my mouth was running without me. First, there was my hesitation with the sex when I climbed back on the bus, and now this. My brain wasn’t participating in any of this, not since I’d descended upon her in the middle of the night.

But is that better, or worse?

I didn’t really have an answer. It seemed like my heart and my tongue had grown cozy together – too cozy. I needed to be smarter than this. I knew that I had to think rationally about this sudden change in the dynamic… after all, I’d just invited who was supposed to be a victory fuck onto my bus for the rest of the tour, alienating my band and our manager in one fell swoop.

But the way that she looked at me, and that pain in her eyes, told me that somehow… somehow, I’d made the right decisions.

Maybe because I didn’t think about them, I wondered.

Angel was looking at me, watching me think to myself. As the fatigue of the night finally overcame me, I sank down to the mattress and pulled her into a deep embrace. With my mind finally quieting down again, I collapsed into the bed with her, allowing the world and its stupidity to fade into blackness.

Angel

I slept the best I’d ever slept when I woke up that afternoon, curled up in Trent’s arms. He was knocked out solid, quietly snoring away, and I watched this beautiful, strange rocker murmur and shift in his sleep.

This had been fast, but it had felt real.

I didn’t quite understand it, and I could tell that he didn’t, either. Not really, at any rate. He seemed the impulsive type, and he’d completely thrown me off-guard by almost backing down from the sex last night… and by inviting me into his world like this.

I’d heard his bandmates. They’d sounded pissed.

But he’d stood his ground, the alpha male that he was. It was clear what he wanted, and that he’d make concessions with them to have it. He could probably have told them all to go to hell, but I’d seen that he did care about them – especially onstage.

Do they fight a lot when they’re not performing?

Is that what it’s like to work with people like this?

Eventually, he woke up too. Once we’d climbed out of bed and freshened up a little, Trent laid down the single ground rule: stay back here. He made it clear that other members of the band had expressed some discomfort in having me around, and that he’d had to agree that I’d stay in his bedroom or in the adjacent bathroom.

I’d been too tired to really think much of being a complication, particularly in the madcap dash to get back to the bus and finally rest. It wasn’t hard to figure out the math once I dwelled on the details.

After all, I was on a bus with a bunch of guys who probably didn’t appreci

ate someone being thrust upon them at the last second – especially not a girl, regardless of the fact that I was apparently fucking their leader.

It was fine by me. I liked his room – it was kind of sparse, and not terribly big, but that seemed like the kind of thing Trent would favor. It was a little larger than my small backroom at the Riverton Bar, but it was free of the odds and ends that cluttered and dominated the space.

“I don’t need much,” he told me at some point after we’d woken up. “Not on the road, at any rate. My place is a little different…but I like to keep my distractions minimal when I’m on tour.”

“But what about me?” I chuckled coyly.

“I make exceptions,” he whispered, his fingers threading into my hair and exposing my neck for his hungry lips. “Exceptions for cute girls who know how to ride my cock the right way.”

Oh good, I thought to myself. So the arrogant asshole thing’s going to stick around for a while.

Oddly, I kind of liked it.

But we couldn’t play for too long.

Trent and his band had another gig.