Since Sienna was squeezing us into a tour that was already in progress, I wondered which bunk Kellan and I would be sleeping in. As I debated if the top bunk was better or worse than the bottom bunk, Sienna grabbed Kellan’s hand and pulled him through the open curtain that led to the back. Frowning at Kellan’s abduction, I followed them. Past the sleeping cubbies was a bathroom—with a shower and everything—and a closed door that I had to assume was the back bedroom.
Sienna was standing by the door like Vanna White. Her smile effervescent, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. “For the happy couple,” she murmured, her eyes lingering on Kellan’s back as he stepped inside.
Kellan reached out a hand for me, and I joined him. The first thing I noticed, besides the fact that this was a hundred times nicer than the glorified cubby we’d slept in on Justin’s bus, was the windows. All three walls of the back section of the bus were covered in huge, black, one-way glass panels. At least, I hoped they were one-way glass. I could see everything in the parking lot. Once I got over the openness of the room, the huge bed in the center of it got my attention. A bed . . . we’d be sleeping on an actual bed with a decently supportive mattress! There was a cabinet near the door for our clothes, and even a TV bolted to the wall. It was almost like our own private studio apartment. I could have hugged Sienna for rearranging things so we could have this room.
Still dazed at how comfortable Kellan and I might be here, I twisted back to our benefactor. “Thank you, Sienna.”
She waved off my gratitude. “Anything I can do to help.” Lips pursing, she added, “I want this arrangement to work . . . for all parties.” The look on her face radiated sincerity, and I wanted so badly to believe her. I just . . . didn’t.
Chapter 16
Spectacle
I was a bundle of restless energy as I waited for the boys to take the stage. Staples Center. They were playing at Staples Center! This was no small-to-moderately sized venue. This was an arena, and from what I could tell as I snuck a peek at the audience from backstage, it was sold out. I had no idea how many people that equated to, but I was sure it was in the tens of thousands. It boggled my mind.
Kellan was fine as he lounged in a chair beside me, sipping on a beer; you would think it was just another night at Pete’s from his breezy attitude. As I played with my necklace, yanking the guitar pendant from left to right in a repetitious pattern that was surely weakening the thin chain, Kellan had a lazy conversation with Deacon, the lead singer of Sienna’s other opening act, Holeshot. They’d been the only act until Nick had appropriated the D-Bags from Avoiding Redemption’s tour.
Kellan’s eyes were amused as he watched me while shooting the shit with Deacon. Since my nerves where slowly eating holes through my stomach, I jumped to my feet and started pacing. Kellan and Deacon both watched me, entertained expressions on their faces. Deacon’s band had a song on the radio too, but it wasn’t doing nearly as well as Kellan’s single with Sienna. Deacon didn’t seem too upset that the D-Bags had been added onto the tour at the last minute, cutting into his set time. If anything, Deacon just seemed happy to have some guys to hang out with. Good thing, since the two bands were sharing a bus for the next several months.
I watched Kellan and Deacon as they chatted about music. The pair were night-and-day different. Kellan had light brown, shaggy, bed-head hair. Deacon’s was black, and longer than mine, nearly to his waist. Kellan had dark blue eyes, like the evening sky. Deacon’s were so light blue they were almost white. While Kellan kept himself clean-shaven, Deacon had a neatly trimmed goatee. But about music, the two seemed equally matched.
Luckily, I had plenty of room to pace, and I made the most of it. One thing I’d noticed right away on this tour was that the security here was much tighter than the last one. On that tour, the backstage area had seemed like a frat house—women, booze, and rock and roll. This was a lot more regimented. A group of fans had met with the boys earlier after the sound check. Tory, handler extraordinaire, had been there to give the fans strict instructions on what they could and couldn’t do with the rock stars. While the boys were busy onstage, Tory had barked at the group of radio contest winners like a drill sergeant until they were all docile and submissive. Listening to her go off on them had shocked me, and honestly, her “rules” made the whole affair awkward, for Kellan and the fans. In my opinion, if Tory had just let the bands and fans mingle organically like the other tour, it would have been a much more rewarding experience for both parties. She didn’t seem to understand that the boys needed the fans just as much as the fans needed them.
The only people backstage now were press, staff of the venue, roadies for the tour, and band members. In the dressing room where we were waiting, it was just the three of us. For some reason, the lack of people around was making me even more anxious for Kellan.
Deacon pointed at me with a long finger. “Is she always this nervous?”
Kellan smiled at me around the beer bottle he held to his mouth. “Pretty much,” he answered after he swallowed.