“Wait a minute,” Greer said, eyeing Chloe. “What kind of punishment are we talking about here?”
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Greer, you better not shit on this bus. But if you do, whatever the worst punishment we can come up with will be the one you get. You might even get more than one if you cause any of us to gag. I suggest you make sure your pipes are clear before you step on this bus.”
“Damn,” Greer laughed. “It’s a good thing none of the cities on this side of the pond allows buses to run their generators all night. Those hotels we booked look even more appealing now.”
“Speaking of,” Tom said, shifting the conversation. “We only have a short ride to Belfast. Around two hours. After the show, we’ll do the usual fan pictures and autographs then we need to get our asses back on the bus. The trip to Manchester is going to be a pain. I had to charter a private ferry to get this damn bus across the water, but we should arrive sometime early tomorrow morning. Once everyone has checked in to the hotel, you’ll have the rest of the day to do as you please. Like Dublin, we’ll have two shows before we move on. The scheduling of this tour leaves a lot to be desired travel-wise, but it’s sold out, and that trumps long travel days. Everyone has the itinerary, but I also posted one by the door. If anyone has questions, let me know.”
“You know,” Drew said as Reid slid into the seat next to Chloe and the bus began to move. “I drew our tour circuit on a map before we left LA. It looks like a drunk person staggering all over the place. We’re doubling back a lot.”
Tom shrugged. “Then I guess you better enjoy these short bus trips while you can. It’s all part of life on the road.”
Once the bus hit the interstate, everyone settled in. Randy, Jeff, and Chad started a card game while Inky and Lincoln disappeared to their beds on the upper deck. Tom, Drew, and Greer swapped stories about previous tours, leaving Reid and Chloe to themselves.
Reid shifted so he faced Chloe, his leg bent at the knee and resting on the bench between them. He leaned forward and looked at her under the brim of his hat. When he spoke, his voice was low, sincere. “Thanks for what you did. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Chloe kept her body facing forward, her eyes focused on the notebook on the table. “It was no big deal. Believe me, it was as much for my benefit as yours.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Reid whispered. “Everyone knows the no shitting on the bus rule. You didn’t need to remind anyone, but you did it to pull the attention away from me. It doesn’t matter that we all knew what you were doing, it’s the fact that you did it. So, thank you.”
Chloe dropped her chin to her chest, her thick blond and purple hair falling over her shoulder and framing her face. Turning her head, she locked her gaze with Reid’s, her violet-blue eyes earnest, inviting. Mesmerizing. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I know what the papers printed and heard gossip on the street, but I know how unreliable that stuff is. Being friends with Josie showed me firsthand that things are never as they seem. No judgment, okay?”
Gratitude tightened Reid’s chest. “Thanks, Chloe. Right now, though, I’d rather talk about something else.” He lifted his chin in the direction of her notebook. “What are you working on?”
Chloe shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just lyrics and random thoughts that might eventually make a song one day. Maybe.”
“I didn’t know you wrote.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Chloe said with a smile.
Reid nodded in agreement, his eyes back on the notebook. The cover appeared worn, the pages curled at the edges from extensive use. He used his thumb to fan the corner of the pages, noticing that nearly every sheet was covered with markings. “That’s a lot of random thoughts.”
Chloe grinned and cut her eyes to Reid as she opened the notebook. She flipped through the pages until she found the page she wanted and handed it to him. “This is what most of the pages look like.”
The once blank page had been transformed into sheet music. Across the paper, music notes floated atop the darkened lines. Reid hummed the melody, the sound strangely familiar, yet not. “What is this? Why does it sound familiar?”
“If it didn’t sound familiar, I’d question your Southern roots and possibly rethink this entire tour thing,” Chloe joked, grabbing her phone. She moved her fingers over the screen for a few moments before setting it on the table and turning it to face Reid.