I laugh. “Okay, really complicated. But even if I was with him, I wouldn’t take sides or discuss anything we say.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jules says with a breath. “I didn’t mean that, you know. I’m just…well, we’re all kind of surprised that you and Scottie are…complicated.”
I knew there’d be talk, despite Gabriel’s insane notion that if he decreed silence, they’d obey. Deluded man. I’m not surprised by Jules’s confusion. Oddly, I don’t really care if they all speculate or don’t understand. Because the flip side is that tonight I’m going to be sleeping in Gabriel’s bed.
A near giddy feeling of anticipation tickles my skin and tightens my belly at the thought of being wrapped up in Gabriel; it’s a full-body experience lying with him. He’s big enough to make me feel small and delicate. Yet his need for my presence makes me feel strong and worthy.
It will be torture pressing up against that hard body, my lips far too close to his smooth, tight skin that burns slightly hot. I love the way he smells, and the steady cadence of his breathing. These things are already indelibly marked in my memory and upon my skin.
Most of all, I love that I see a side of him no one else does. I want to know this man. I’ve just told Jules I want to live in the moment, but for the first time in years, I look toward the future with a bit of wistfulness and some fear.
I close my eyes as “Thriller” starts up once more. “I’m not very good at complicated,” I tell Jules. “But for Gabriel, I’m willing to try.”
“For his sake, I hope you succeed.” The affection I hear in her voice has me thinking she likes Gabriel more than she’ll admit. “Because that man needs a social life more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Chapter Eleven
Sophie
* * *
I stall until the last second to get myself on Gabriel’s bus. Dusk has settled over the parking lot where the buses are already idling, a snakelike caravan that holds Kill John’s tour. Gabriel’s bus is toward the end, a glossy black tube against the orange sky.
His driver, a very nice older gentleman named Daniel, greets me with a nod and a smile. “Made it by the skin of your teeth.”
I think he knows I was stalling.
“Thanks for driving us,” I tell him at the door. “You need anything? Coffee? Dinner?”
“No, miss. I have a very nice setup in the front. Scottie makes certain of that.”
As well he should since he’s relying on Daniel to keep us alive and safe while driving all night. I asked Brenna about the drivers. They sleep during the day in whatever hotel we stop at and stay up all night driving when we’re on the move again. Most of them have been on multiple tours with the band.
Then again, Gabriel truly does make certain every small detail of the tour is attended to. Earlier today, he had Sara, one of the interns, pack up my things while I was goofing off with Jules and put them away in his bus. You’d think I’d find this invasive, but truthfully, I’ve been living out of my suitcase, and not having to go through the awkward task of unpacking, asking where I should put this or that while he looks on, is a relief.
Instead, I received a text from Sara telling me where everything is. I thanked her profusely and sent her a Starbucks gift certificate. Her delight in a free frap makes me consider sending Gabriel’s entire staff certificates. All of them seem to spin constantly like cogs in the well-oiled Kill John machine, with Gabriel at the helm. And while he isn’t cruel, he isn’t exactly handing out praise for their efforts, either. It’s clear he expects jobs to be done right the first time, and that goes for his as well.
The other buses are closing their doors, everyone tucked in for the trip.
I can stall no longer, and after wishing Daniel a good night, I step up into the relative cool and quiet of the bus and close the door behind me with a definitive thud. The pristine interior is empty, Gabriel nowhere to be seen. I admit, I’m unpleasantly shocked. I’d expected him to be lounging in a chair with his feral grace and vaguely admonishing expression. Is he running late?
I glance around as the bus lurches forward. Bracing my legs, I wait until I’m accustomed to the gentle rocking. I’m about to call out, or maybe buzz Daniel to warn him that he’s left his boss behind, when Gabriel’s deep voice comes from the bedroom.
“About bloody time. Were you trying to miss the bus, Darling?”
Relief swamps me so strongly I have to sag against the kitchenette countertop. “I like to be fashionably late,” I call back.
“Just remember,” he retorts, still talking from the depths of the bedroom, “the caravan waits for no one.”
“It waited for me just now.” I stroll toward the bedroom but come to an abrupt halt at the threshold. For a second, I can only gape at the sight that greets me. It’s so shocking, I turn around to check whether there are cameras rolling and I’m being punked.