Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“Sorry about that,” Davis says. “Lost track of the time.”

“Do better, dickhead. This is a group effort, not a one-band show.”

“Albie, it’s fine,” Keith says. “No big deal.”

“What’s going on here?” Hollister steps up.

I exchange looks with Keith. You take care of your act and I’ll take care of mine. No sense in making Hollister believe that his tour isn’t running smoothly.

Keith gives me a terse nod of agreement. “Nothing, man. We’re discussing the next set.”

“A little loudly. I can hear you out there.”

“Sorry.”

Immediately we all look shamefaced. No need for anyone to hear the family fighting.

Davis sticks out his hand. “I’ll do better next time.”

Albie brushes his fingers against Davis, albeit reluctantly.”

“We all right?” Hollister presses.

I nod. “Hunky dory.”

Hollister draws me aside. “You need to do a little sucking up here. There’s already some hard feelings developing because of the crowd response. Throw in the rolling hotel-on-wheels that you and your crew sleep in as opposed to crashing on floors or staying in motels that have more rats than maids, and you’ve a recipe for a lot of resentment. This tour is dependent on five bands, not one.”

“How about we invite them to the hotel tonight,” Davis suggests.

“What’s this?” Hollister perks up.

“We were thinking of staying in a hotel tonight. Why not invite the guys to come over and crash. We have what? Five rooms? That’ll house twenty guys.”

Hollister looks in my direction.

I clench my teeth together. Christ, what a disaster. All I want to do is have sex with my girl. In relative privacy. Not in the dark against the bumper of a bus. Not against a fake tree in a mini-golf park. But in a bed. In a room with four walls.

I want to take her clothes off, worship every part of her beautiful body

“Rees?”

“Yeah, fine. We’ll get more rooms, though.”

“I’m not paying for this,” Hollister warns.

“I’ll pay.”

“Great.” Hollister claps his hands. “The tour is springing for hotel rooms tonight.”

A cheer goes up.

“Thanks for taking credit,” I grouse.

Hollister slaps me on the back. “Thanks for paying.”

Threat Alert makes its way back onstage. The only salvageable thing about this whole situation is that Landry looks as miserable as I feel.

“I’m tired,” she says. “Can we go to the hotel?”