I start chugging back on my beer, quickly emptying it, and I reach for another. I listen to the verbal diarrhea coming out of the guys’ mouths about what crazy shit they can get up to while on tour with the god of women that is Tom Carter.
I’ve just popped the cap on my beer when I feel the sofa depress beside me.
“You don’t seem overly happy that Tom Carter is our new manager,” Cale says in a quiet voice.
I turn my face to him and try to force a smile. “I am. I just—ugh,” I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face.
“You’re worried about his rep, right?”
“Yep. His rep.” And his tendency to try to get into my pants—well, mine and the rest of the population’s pants—whenever he sees me.
Cale puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “Ly, it’ll be fine. Nothing will change. And don’t worry about those two.” He points to Sonny and Van while they are currently arguing over who will score the most pussy on tour—after Tom, of course. “Between the two of us, we’ll be able to keep those groupie addicts on the right path.”
“And what about you?” I raise my eyebrow.
He grins. “I can control myself around women, Ly. Give me some credit.”
“Even with the influence of Tom?”
“Even with the influence of Tom. Anyway, if I couldn’t control myself, you, Lyla Summers, are the best cockblock around. You’ve been cockblocking me since high school without even meaning to.”
“Hey!” I elbow him in the ribs. “I am not a cockblock!”
“You’re a cockblock!” Sonny and Van chime in.
“Piss off!” I chuckle.
“Good to hear that laugh again,” Cale says.
“Which laugh?”
“Your real one.”
I laugh all the time, but those are fakes. He’s right. That was the first time in a long time that I’ve laughed for real. It quickly fades. My eyes dip to the floor.
“Did I upset you?” Cale squeezes my shoulder.
I look up, meeting his warm gaze. “No.” I shake my head. “I’m just not looking forward to the tour as much as I was. Tom will probably make groupie night mandatory or something.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” Cale grins.
“What doesn’t sound so bad?” Van asks.
“Nothing,” I answer quickly, shooting Cale a look.
He starts to laugh.
I shove him on the shoulder. “You’re gross, you know that?”
“Not as gross as Sonny.”
“Who’s not as gross as me?” Sonny asks.“Van,” Cale deflects.
A moment later, I feel Cale’s finger under my chin. He brings my face toward him. “Ly, don’t worry about Tom. It’s gonna be fine, better than fine. It’s gonna be awesome.”
“Awesome. Sure.” I roll my eyes.
Seriously, what is going to be awesome about touring with the mut of rock, who has hit on me every time I see him?
Nothing—that’s what.
A Few Days Later—Tour Bus, LA
“Can you believe we’re here, Ly?” Cale slings his arm around my shoulders.
I shake my head, taking in my surroundings.
I’m more excited now that we’re here than I have been since I heard who our new manager was. But I’m over that. It’ll be fine. Because we’re here!
Today is the day we set off on tour. And tomorrow night, we’ll be playing Seattle, and I cannot wait!
I’m standing in the galley of the tour bus, and the place is amazing. Beyond amazing.
Laid out before me is a living area, complete with a leather seating area and a TV fixed on the wall. I spy a DVD player and a PlayStation. That should keep the boys entertained. There’s a table attached to the wall with seating around it. The kitchen has a wall-fitted unit with a built-in range and oven, a small refrigerator, and a microwave.
I follow Cale down the hall to where Sonny and Van are, and I see the bathroom on the right. Shower, no bath. I’m going to miss my baths for the next six weeks.
“Four bunks here,” Van says when we reach them. “And a bedroom for when I want to get laid, which will be every night.” He grins.
“Bedroom is Ly’s,” Cale asserts.
Two pairs of unamused eyes stare at him.
“What the hell?” Sonny whines. “I thought that room was going to be our pussy palace.”
Pussy palace? How does he come up with this shit?
“Look, I have no issue with sleeping in a bunk. I’m used to the stinky smell of you all,” I say.
Honestly, I don’t care where I sleep just as long as I’m here, and this is happening.
“I smell like man, and you love me for it.” Sonny wraps his arm around my neck, pulling to him, squashing my face into his rock-hard pecs.
“Love might be pushing it,” I retort, pushing away from him. “More like tolerate.”
“You so love me.” He grins.
“I love you like I love athlete’s foot.” I smirk.
“Children, sorry to interrupt, but are we gonna make a decision on the bed situation?” Van asks.
“Ly should have the bedroom,” Cale reiterates.
“Like I said, I really don’t care where I sleep.” Then, I meet Cale’s firm stare. “But I’d love to have the bedroom,” I backtrack
“You should take the bed, Ly,” Van says from behind me.