Ian Mercury walked up to me, accompanied by a beautiful woman with flowing black locks. I’d met Ian quickly last night, and while he was every bit as handsome as his brother, there was an air of restraint around him. He introduced his wife with exaggerated formality.
“Rhone, meet Catherine Donovan.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, shaking her hand. “I’m doing a story for the Rolling Stone.”
“Ian told me. Things can be kind of rough with the boys when they’re on tour,” she said, smiling at me. I’d already looked her up, so I knew she was one of the top supermodels for Yves St. Laurent. Tall, with legs that stretched for miles, her light brown eyes were filled with kindness. She was absolutely stunning. “Let me know if you need anything, or have any questions, okay?”
“That’s so nice of you, thank you,” I replied with a smile. It was nice to have another woman around.
“I’m going to kill that fuckin’ wanker if he doesn’t hurry up!” Ian exclaimed, pacing the sidewalk behind his wife. “Matt, you’re the one getting paid to make sure he’s ready to go on time. Why did I have to go wake his ass up?”
“I apologize, Mr. Mercury, I would’ve gone…”
“ — well, then do your bloody job next time, for fuck’s sake!”
“Yes, sir,” Matt replied, looking back down at his phone.
Waiting was not my strong suit, and I was feeling antsy, but Ian’s obvious frustration just made everything awkward.
My gaze traveled back to the bus, remembering the scene that had greeted me yesterday. If I’d known what was going on inside there, I’d never just walked in like that, but Matt had told me to just ‘go on in’. I should have known what to expect… Liam’s reputation preceded him.
I felt completely uncomfortable going back in there alone, so I stayed out on the sidewalk and waited until a freshly showered Liam walked up, his wet stringy hair somehow serving to make him look even sexier. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans and a white linen unbuttoned shirt, his muscular, tattooed chest on display once again. A thin, dark line of hair ran down from his navel, disappearing into a pair of faded Levi’s.
Big D, the band’s bodyguard, stood next to him. He was one of the biggest, scariest men I’d ever seen and the scowl on his face was intimidating.
“It’s about fucking time!” Ian sneered at him.
“Piss off!” Liam spat back. “I’m bloody here now. If you keep naggin’ at me, I’ll fuckin’ go back to bed.”
“We’re all so sick of your shit, Liam.”
“Yeah? Well fuckin’ quit then, what the fuck do I care? None of you blokes would even be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“You’re the most arrogant prick I’ve ever known!” Ian said.
“And the most brilliant, Ian, don’t forget that,” he said teasingly. “Now can we get this show on the road?”
He looked over at me and winked as he pushed past everyone and boarded the bus again. Big D followed. My eyes met Ian’s and he shook his head in frustration. I shrugged and slowly walked onto Liam’s bus.
Here we go…
As I walked in, his eyes met mine briefly and he looked away just as fast. This was not going to be easy, I suspected.
I sat across from him, and met his gaze.
“Good morning to you, sweet tits,” Liam said, with a little wave of his hand.
“Catherine,” I said. If we were going to get anywhere, I couldn’t deal with being called ‘sweet tits’ the whole time.
“Catherine,” he said, my name rolling over his tongue slowly. “That’s right…” He raked his gaze over my body, his head tilted as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “Catherine, from Rolling Stone.”
“Yes,” I replied curtly. “As I mentioned last night, I’m here for a week.”
“A lot can happen in a week, Catherine from Rolling Stone,” he said, winking again.
“A lot of that?” I asked, gesturing out to the sidewalk.
“What? My brother and I bicker every now and then. Are you going to write about that?” Liam asked.
“Maybe I’ll mention it. I don’t know what I’m going to write yet,” I replied. His gaze was intense. Penetrating, seductive and fiery, his eyes seemed to tear right through me. My breath quickened and I tried to calm my racing heart.
No wonder this guy is a star, I thought to myself. He’s got those eyes, that fucking body, that charisma. There was something about him that made you yearn for more. I couldn’t stop looking at him. My eyes were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
“It should be a fun week,” he replied, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’ll try to make sure it’s interesting for you.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
“My brother’s constant raving makes him look like a lunatic,” he replied, dryly. “He’s jealous that I get all the attention.”
“And do you like that?” I asked.
“What? Getting all the attention?”
“Yes.”
“Well, luv, I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t enjoy attention,” he leaned towards me, lowering his voice. “Don’t you like attention?” he asked, his eyes grazing over my body again.
“Sure, who doesn’t?” I shot back.
He smiled, nodded in approval and sat back. He folded his arms across his chest, slowly looking me up and down again. I suppressed a smile.
“Well, then,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he smiled at me. “Looks like we have something in common already.”
“When can we talk, Mr. Mercury?” I asked, reminding myself to get back to business.
“Not now,” he replied, with a sigh. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. And we’ve got all week, right?”
“Yes, but I was hoping to finish early —,” I began.
“—Finish early? I don’t even know what that means!” he replied, bursting out laughing at his own joke.
“That’s not what I —,”
“—Don’t worry, love, there’s plenty of time,” he said, reaching over and putting his hand on my knee. The heat seared my skin and I pulled away quickly. He eyes shot up, looking at me curiously, before he shook his head and stood up. As he strolled to the back of the bus, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on his tight, jean-clad ass. A wave of hot desire wash over me.
This was going to be a long week.
Chapter 4
LIAM
Catherine smelled like peaches.
Her scent hit me as soon as she walked on the bus and it lingered long after I closed myself off in my bunk. She was fucking beautiful, that was for sure… But I sure as hell wished she wasn’t here. The last thing I needed was some fuckin’ reporter sniffing around and ju
dging my every move. I’d forgotten all about her until I walked up and saw her standing there. The events of last night came flooding back, and I smiled.
So much for first impressions…
I was a bit of a wanker, I knew that. But this business had left me jaded. Everyone wanted something from me, everyone wanted to be close to me, everyone wanted what they thought I had. But what did I have, really? Money? Who cares? My life was easier before the fuckin’ money. Women? I had them when I was still busking for shillings on the streets of London.
That left Fame. Fuck that. If it wasn’t for fame, little miss reporter wouldn’t be out there trying to snatch a few juicy bits of knowledge to satisfy the vultures. They were never satisfied. They wanted to pour over every little detail of my goddamned life.
It was like my life wasn’t my own anymore. My private life was public. I left my emotions on the stage night after night, baring my soul for the money that kept this monstrosity of a rock machine running… And for what? There was nothing left for me. Hell, there wasn’t much left of me, for that matter.
It’s like I was some robot, mindlessly going through the paces every day. Wake up in a new hotel, a different city, get on the bus, drive to the next town, perform another show, get drunk, get laid, try to get some sleep, and wake up and do it all over again. It wasn’t fuckin’ glamorous, it was fuckin’ bloody exhausting, is what it was. That’s why so many of my friends were fuckin’ dead. They turned to the white stuff to keep moving. I wasn’t going to follow their example.
I chose this path, though. I was blessed, everyone said. I was living life to the fullest, riding on the edge everyday, living a life most could only dream of… I was adored by millions of people who didn’t really know me at all.
It was all a ruse. I couldn’t wait to leave America and get back home. I was completely out of place here, and it already seemed like the tour was crawling along at a snail’s pace.