“I’m not your fucking mate,” I snap, turning to retreat off stage before my anger bests me.
“No, you’re not my mate. You’re a fucking spoiled cunt. I’d almost be relieved if you carry through with the threat to fire me,” he snaps at my back. “At least I’d get half my salary and be free of your Type A fucking arse. I don’t see the issue. She’s just another fucking bird.”
Red streams through my vision as I turn, and in two strides, land a right squarely on his mouth—knocking him backward, along with the piano bench. Tempted to pounce, I take a few steadying breaths as he sneers up at me, his lip bleeding freely.
Sighing, I grab the towel from atop the piano and squat so we’re eye level as he continues to glare at me. Indecision appears to flit over his features, like he’s deciding whether or not to strike back. I give him ample opportunity to do so before thrusting the towel toward him. “You deserved that, and now I know where we stand, but let’s cut the bullshit. I’m just as observant as you are, Leif, and you know damn well she’s not just another fucking bird. Regardless of what she is or isn’t, it’s not your business to try and figure that out. Your business is to show up and play guitar.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” he snaps in clear condescension before snatching the towel and wiping his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck what you think about me because you know fuck all.”
“Well, by all means, LL, if I’m wrong about you, feel free to fucking surprise me.”
He spits blood into the towel and tosses it back at me before standing. “Whatever, like I give a damn who you stick your prick into.”
“Just keep your shady shit away from me and—”
“The fuck’s going on here?” Dad yells, striding on stage, and I flash LL a warning look.
“Just a misunderstanding,” LL offers quickly, eyes fixed on mine. “Apparently, I mis stepped with Easton’s special bird,” he declares with blood-laced teeth, sealing his fate with me.
Fuck.
I can practically predict the future issues he’s prone to cause, and not just for me personally. At this point, I’m hopeful the band only remembers Natalie’s first name. I wasn’t thinking long-term, or at all, about the future when I picked Natalie up because honestly, she had me convinced we weren’t happening. Long term is what kept me awake the second she passed out in my arms in that hotel room in Dallas.
“What special bird?” Dad asks.
“Just a girl I met on the road,” I lie. “It ended in Dallas.”
LL’s lingering stare and budding smirk tells me he knows I’m lying, and he just gained leverage. Thank God he’s got no real idea of who Natalie is or the damage it could cause. I’d parked a block away from Austin Speak—in front of the coffee shop—but I have no doubt Leif was privy to every word she spoke on the road and caught her mention she was media. It’s too much. The web is already spinning in a direction I don’t want, and we’re not even a week in.
I hate lying—especially to my dad—but I will for her, her future, her happiness, and our relationship. For now.
“If it ended, then what’s the problem?”
“Seriously, Dad?”
Dad, of all people, should understand my need to protect any woman from walking STDs like LL. Just the memory of how turned on she got watching LL get head has my hackles rising. It’s not so much jealousy—though it’s a large part of it—but his reaction to her natural curiosity. I practically saw him licking his wolfish chops as he weighed her reception. I’ve never wanted to physically end another human life like I did when I saw LL’s intent to try and lure her into participating. Even from ten feet away, I could feel his intent.
Shaking those thoughts away, I kick what’s important to the forefront. My priority right now is that Natalie’s identity remains safe. I’m her secret, and sadly, she has to be mine. For the next three months, four tops, it’s doable, but it will be fucking tough with all the media attention starting to focus our way.
LL’s lips curve as he obviously reads my panic—despite my attempt to hide it—hammering another nail into his coffin.
“See you backstage,” he says to Dad before smugly sauntering off. Dad watches him go before turning to me, silently demanding an explanation.
“He made a pass at her in a very lewd way, knowing she was with me.”
“So, you punched him now? After the fact?”
“He deserved it. That’s why he didn’t retaliate.”
I move to organize the sheet music scattered along my piano, but Dad yanks my hand, my reddening knuckles in clear view. “Going to sting like a bitch playing with this tonight.” He shakes my swelling fist. “This fucking thing is a lot more valuable than fighting over some meaningless road fling.”
I rip my hand from his grip. “Well, maybe you treated women like dish detergent in your day, but that’s not my style.”
“The fuck?” He explodes. “You say this shit to me? I’ve been faithful to your mother well before and during your whole existence.”
“Have you?” I ask, having no idea where I’m going with this line of questioning. I exhale heavily when I see fury flare in his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. Shit, sorry.”
When his anger dissipates as a result of my apology, I deem his ability to let it go so easily a superpower I wish I possessed. But it’s her. I know it’s her, and meaningless is not a word I would associate with her. She’s under my skin, fueling my days, lightning in my veins. I’m already gone.
“What the fuck is going on with you? And don’t lie to me.”
“I’m stressed out,” I say honestly. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“So, take a day. Take two. You don’t have to be writing on your days off. Find something else to get into.”
“I can handle this, the road, on my own,” I snap.
“You gunning for me now?”
“No, Jesus.” I run my smarting hand through my hair. “I just fucking clocked a guy. Sorry if I haven’t leveled out yet.”
“I’m aware you can handle this on your own, East, and I’m not doubting you.” His watchful eyes trail me before I turn my back to sort the music.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Briefly, I entertain broaching the subject with him. Natalie and I did agree to feel our parents out at some point. I open my mouth to speak, but the words die on my lips as he pulls the piano bench LL took down with him upright.
“Your fucking temper,” he barks, eyeing me in a way that makes me feel an inch tall. “You need to get a hold on that, son, and fast, or it’s going to fuck things up for you in the long run. Big things, important things. I have the same temper, but I’ve never let it get to me like it’s starting to eat at you.”
“It’s a matter of respect,” I tell him. “He doesn’t have any for himself, let alone anyone else. I told you I had a feeling about him, and I’m usually right.”
“He’s a musician in need of a paycheck who backs you on stage every night without fail,” Dad scolds. “Is it really worth the hassle to go at him over a random road hookup?” He shakes his head. “And just so we’re clear, all the money in the fucking world can’t repair the damage of a bad temper.”
“He deserved it,” I explain. “He was getting sucked off at a party and was trying to lure her into the mix, knowing she was with me. She’s not the type. She’s innocent. That’s why he didn’t fight back.”
Dad doesn’t miss a beat. “Then he deserved it.”
“Fucking thank you.” I straighten the sheets in my hands. “I can’t stand him. We’re replacing him after the tour,” I lift my chin in the direction LL left.
“Fine. I’ll take your word on this.” Long minutes pass while I pack my messenger bag. Dad lets out a heavy exhale before he breaks the silence. “I love him, son. I love that boy with everything in me, but his acid may be leaking a little too much into you.”