Chapter 20
Sam, Justin, and I sit in the tiny hotel lobby and wait for Romeo to check us in. I’m feeling guilty about not being with my sister on Halloween. My mom took the night off so she’s taking Jamie trick or treating, but my sister had looked crushed when she found out I wasn’t coming. However, not only is this our best paying gig, it’s our biggest one. Located in a suburb of Detroit, the ride here took forever with Sam sleeping on my shoulder and drooling on me. Romeo drove the van. Justin sat in the passenger seat. They talked about set variations for the entire two hours. Every time Justin would turn around and try to relieve me of boredom, Romeo had another suggestion. He can talk band shit forever.
My phone beeps with a text.
Chloe: Sorry, I couldn’t make it. You’d better wear my outfit. Beat the shit out of those drums for me. Love ya and happy Fright Night!
Since I’m getting my own room, I begged Chloe to come. Unfortunately, her full time cosmetology course runs every other Saturday until four o’clock, and we had to leave by two. I’m about to text her back, but Romeo returns.
“We’ve got a problem,” he says to us all, but his eyes are on me. “They’re booked. We can only get two rooms.”
“Well then I’ll stay with Riley,” Justin immediately says.
“I don’t think so,” Romeo says tightly.
Sam winks at me. “I can then.”
Romeo reaches for his bag. “Not going to happen.”
“So you’re staying with her? That’s bullshit. Why do you get to decide?” Justin turns to me. “Who do you want to room with?”
“I…” The thought of sleeping in the same room with Romeo has my heart pounding in hormonal dread. But to pick Justin or Sam instead would be band harmony suicide. “I’m not answering that. It’s similar to a girl asking a guy if her butt looks big.”
Justin and Sam laugh at that.
“She’s staying in my room so drop it,” Romeo says in the same tone of authority he uses in practice. He hands Justin an envelope with keys and a number scrawled across the hotel logo. “You’re on the third floor. We’re on the fifth. Be back down here in an hour and we’ll go over the set plan one more time.”
With that, Romeo turns toward the elevator. I have to grab my bag and run after him. “What’s your problem?” I ask as the elevator doors close.
“I don’t like this.”
“So why didn’t you put me in Sam’s room?” I say because he probably is the least of my worries. Though he constantly flirts, he’s never truly hit on me. Can’t say that about the other two.
“You’re not staying with either of them.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust them,” he says, stepping out of the elevator.
“Oh, and you trust yourself?” I say sarcastically, following him. His narrowed look over his shoulder has me adding. “Don’t worry about me. Last weekend killed all Romeo attracted hormones.”
He slides a card into a door. “Is that so?” he asks evenly.
“That wasn’t a gauntlet. It’s the truth,” I say, lying and sweeping into the room. I stop abruptly and he runs into me. “Why is there a whirlpool tub in our room?” My eyes round on the king sized bed. “And why is there only one bed?” The question comes out in a screech.
Romeo throws his bag on the dresser. “This is all they had left.” He gestures to the small couch. “And that folds out to a bed.”
“Okay…but why didn’t you let them have this room?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Justin and that tub together spell party. He’d invite as many girls as possible back to the room. There are not enough funds in a bona fide band account to pay for that mess.”
I tilt my head in thought. My imagination agrees with Romeo. “Alright, I’ll take the couch.”
He shakes his head. “You can have the bed.”
“No really. You’re a lot bigger. The couch will be fine.”
He glances at the clock next to the huge bed. “We don’t have time to argue. It’s almost six and we go on stage at nine. For once, we’re the opening band. I need fifteen minutes to get ready. That leaves you with about thirty. So get going.”
Rolling my eyes at Mr. Business, I head to the bathroom.
He’s sitting on the couch when I come out. His eyes flick from the TV to me and grow huge. I’m wearing black hot pants over black tights, black combat boots, enough black eyeliner for three people, a tight sliver sequin tank top, and a headband with silver bunny ears. As his eyes roam, a smirk threatens to escape me, but I somehow keep a blank face. “Bathroom’s all yours,” I say lightly.
He gets up and stalks over to me. My heart thuds. He stops inches from me and my chest goes into overdrive. He leans forward. I’m hyperventilating at the thought of his lips on mine, but all he does is peek over my shoulder. “Oh hell no. I’m going to be beating guys off you all night with your drum sticks.”
Though I highly doubt that, I raise a brow and ignore the continued thudding of my chest from his near proximity. “Because of a silver, fluffy tail?” I ask, referring to Chloe’s sewing job.
He looks at me hard. “You should change.”
“Chloe is the only one I allow to tell me how to dress. And that’s usually a fight. Besides, it’s not even that revealing, and it is Halloween.” His eyes turn harder. I adjust my ears. “Your fifteen minutes is inching closer to ten.”
He stalks past me and the bathroom door slams.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long, long night.
***
The venue is huge. An endless bar runs the entire back wall. The crowd is wild and drunk and dancing. I’m sweaty and exhilarated. Silver sequins stick to my skin. The set has been one long burst of energy between the band and the mob of people dressed up in every costume imaginable. My drumming bubble combined with the crowd has been therapeutic after a long, tension-filled week.
Wearing an open white shirt, black eyeliner, and a long scarf on his head, Pirate Justin goes on about what a great crowd they’ve been and how we’d love to play all night. Blah. Blah. Blah. I suck down water. Dressed in their normal black attire, Romeo and Sam stand with their instruments hanging from their necks and wait for our singer to shut up.
Justin finally raises his arms.
The lights dim and a spotlight hits Romeo as he breaks into a charging riff. Justin starts singing, “When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the…” As he says the word slide, I begin pounding. The lights hit Justin then me. He sings louder. Romeo’s guitar chords grow in volume. Sam joins in. My beating increases in a crescendo and soon we’re thrashing out Helter Skelter by the Beatles as the crowd goes wild.
Energy pulses through me from both playing and the crowd. I love this. Romeo was right. This is the perfect ending song for a Halloween set. He has a talent for song choices. He doesn’t pick trendy. He picks what he knows we’ll do well.
Unfortunately, the song ends. We do our bow thing while energy from playing and the crowd have me buzzing. The mass of people in front of us shout and clap like never ending thunder then chant for more but the next band is scheduled to come on in half an hour.
Behind the massive stage, the second band, congratulates us on our performance as the stagehands remove our gear. Sam opens a bottle of vodka and we pass it around before going to help pack up Romeo’s van. Once the van is crammed full of our gear, a stagehand leads us to a VIP section on the side of the stage. A waitress dressed in a cat costume hands us bottled beers—glass is something I’m guessing the masses don’t get—as the twenty odd people already in the section swarm around us. Well, mostly the girls. Statements of our awesomeness reverberate around me. Along with echoes of where to find our stuff to download. I move toward the back and lean on a speaker. The excitement and adoration is skeeving me out. But Romeo, Sam, and especially Justin seem to bask in it. Or maybe they’re basking in the female attention.
The second band starts and the attention in our little corner turns toward the stage. I sip on my beer and watch the other band. They’re not as good as we are, but they’re loud, energetic, and local. After the surge of energy from playing, I’m looking forward to being a spectator.
Girls bop to the hard music and cling to my band mates while a guy slides over to me and yells in my ear, “I liked watching you drum better!”
I give him a smile and sip my beer.
By the next song, there’s another guy at my side. Both randomly yell in my ear things about the band playing or questions about my band. One appears college aged. The other closer to thirty. Between their lips close to my ears and their bodies brushing mine, I’m becoming uncomfortable. And the sight five feet in front of me, two girls dressed in skimpy witch outfits hanging on Romeo isn’t helping.
Another round of beer comes. Still sipping my first, I decline.
Three songs in, Mr. Over Thirty starts wrapping his arm around my waist whenever he bends toward me for a question. He’s bending in and wrapping while I watch Romeo stoop down to hear what the girl next to him is saying. She holds her hat and tilts her head. Romeo’s lock of hair hangs forward obscuring his eyes until he looks over his shoulder. His eyes narrow on me and the old man. I have no idea what the idiot next to me just said, but I give him a smile.
The night continues with this stupidity. Between the girls on Romeo and the guys next to me, I can’t even enjoy the music. I escape to the bathroom when right side witch tucks her hand under the edge of Romeo’s belt and into his jeans right above his ass.
Luckily, the room is empty. I pace in front of the stalls and silently pep talk myself into ignoring Romeo. I should not be paying attention to him. I should not be jealous. Heck, I haven’t even noticed what Sam and Justin are doing. My infatuation—there I admitted it—with Romeo needs to stop for more than one reason. The band being the first. Him being a player the second. And lastly, since I’m sleeping in the same room as him tonight.
I step out of the bathroom and I’m only partially surprised to see Mr. Over Thirty leaning against the wall of the hallway. “There you are,” he says with a lazy smile. “Thought you might have gotten lost.”
“Just taking a break,” I say and spin toward the stage.
“Damn,” he says catching up to me. “That is hot.” His hand slides from the back of my thigh over the curve of my butt to grab my tail.
My head snaps and my eyes widen on the guy’s smirk. Before I can smack him or push him or whatever my shocked mind had in store, a blur of black and muscle slams him into the wall. “Fucking pig,” Romeo snarls into the man’s face.
The man wheezes against the forearm pressed against his throat.
“You like coping feels? Huh?” Romeo shoves harder.
The man gasps for air.
Shocked out of stunned by the violence in front of me, I tug on Romeo’s arm. “Okay, let him go. He can’t breathe.”
Romeo eyes narrow on the man gasping for breath.
My grip tightens. “Romeo!”
Finally, he lets go and steps back. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Holding his throat, the man rushes toward the stage.
Romeo continues staring at the wall.
“Um…I guess I should say thanks but that was a bit intense.” My fingers are still on his arm. I drop my hand. “You okay?”
He nods but doesn’t look at me.
“I guess we should head back.” I pivot toward the club.
He grabs my elbow. “I came back here to tell you I was leaving.” He gestures his chin toward the stage. “Those two are getting a taxi later.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing he means for me to decide if I want to stay. Go back and deal with being in a room alone with him or go back to where Mr. Over Thirty is. I yank my bunny ears off. “Guess I’m ready to go.”