Security quickly escorted us into one of the backstage rooms where we’d gotten ready earlier in the evening. The members of Jacob’s Ladder—Jake’s fiancée, Abby Renard, and her twin brothers, Gabe and Eli, lounged on the over-stuffed couches, awaiting our arrival. With sweat pouring off of me, I gladly took an ice-cold water bottle, along with a towel, from one of the roadies. As I guzzled down the water, another guy thrust a clean shirt in my face. It was t-minus five minutes till Meet and Greet time with lucky fans.
“Ew, Jake!” Abby squealed. I glanced over my shoulder to see that Jake hadn’t bothered to towel off or change shirts. Instead, he was rubbing his sweat-soaked body over Abby’s glittering stage dress. When he nuzzled his face against her neck and whispered something in her ear, she grinned and didn’t seem to mind that her appearance to meet fans was getting shot to hell.
“Get a room,” I teased, as I whipped my old shirt over my head.
“We may have to call the room on your bus tonight,” Abby said with a giggle.
I groaned as I pulled on the clean, skin-tight, black Runaway Train T-shirt. “I thought the whole point of you two buying a separate bus was so you could keep it rockin’ without us having to know.”
Wrinkling her nose at my description of their activities, Abby replied, “Yes, but since Lily is with us for the next three shows, we want to give up the bed to her and Bray.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Let’s rephrase that, babe. You want to give the bed up, not me.”
Abby smacked his arm playfully. “But the roosts can be awfully fun too, you know.”
A wicked grin curved on Jake’s face as if some elicit memory had just been rekindled in his mind. “That’s true.”
Just as they started to engage in some serious lip-lock, a knock came at the door, signaling it was time to start the Meet and Greet. Running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, I tried to steady myself. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the hell out of our fans—they made us what we were, but I preferred pre-show Meet and Greets. With the pre-performance energy adrenaline pumping, you really could give to your fans what they deserved.
But the suits and event planners never quite understood that. So, after days of touring and hours spent playing your heart out has sent exhaustion prickling over your body like nicks from a razor blade, it was hard finding the energy after a show to give your all to each and every person who came by—especially the over-eager women who wanted more than you were willing to give. You’re too tired, and you let your guard down, which results in having your ass and junk unwillingly grabbed.
A flurry of movement came from the doorway indicating the eager fans had arrived. Abby and Jake quickly rose off the couch and then went their separate ways with their respective bands. The line remained steady, and my face felt frozen in a smile as I posed with different fans. I signed so many shirts, CD’s, and body parts that my hand cramped up so bad that I thought it would never recover to play in tomorrow night’s show. Rhys and I were now the only guys who signed breasts. Brayden had been out of that game practically since we started, and now that Jake was engaged to Abby, he was refusing too. In his absence, I was happy to oblige.
We only had about ten fans left when Kylie, Lily’s younger sister and sometimes nanny, poked her dark head in the door. Before she could open her mouth, Melody’s high decibel scream echoed throughout the room. “DADDY! I WANT MY DADDY!”
With one hand signing a program, Brayden used the other to beckon Kylie. She hurried into the room, trying to muffle Melody’s cries by cradling the fifteen month old to her rack. But Melody pulled away and reached out for Bray. The moment he took her, Melody quieted, wrapping her arms around Brayden’s neck.
He gave an apologetic smile to the fans. “Excuse me, but it seems my daughter needs her daddy. I hope you all won’t mind if I duck out?”
Since it was only women left, they practically melted into a freaking puddle in the floor at Brayden’s words and actions. A chorus of “Aw’s” coupled with “What a good father you are” rang through the room. As Bray left with one of our jacked-up security guards, Kylie didn’t follow him. Instead, she hung around, talking to Abby, while cutting her blue eyes over at me.