Chapter 18

Mason

In the studio, I took the empty seat between Nolan and Kirk and put on the headphones. The wall behind the two DJs contained autographed eight-by-ten photos of rock bands, past and present. Some of my all-time favorites were there, with the drummers who had inspired my love for the instrument.

“All right, guys,” Stacey, one of the DJs said. “I need each of you to speak into your mikes, one at a time, so we can do a sound check.”

“What do you want us to say?” Nolan asked, then sat back, his part of the test now over.

“Anything you want,” replied Dennis, the other DJ, even though it had been a rhetorical question.

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” I said.

Kirk snorted a laugh. “You’re always in the mood for pizza.” True enough.

“And beer,” Jared added, stating the obvious. He fiddled with the base of his microphone.

“I could go for pizza and beer before the show.” That was from Aaron.

“That’s good, guys,” Stacey said. “And we’re ready to go live in three…two…” She held up her index finger, then spoke into her mike. “We’re back now with the guys from Pushing Limits. And I’ll add that they’re looking mighty fine…Guys, how about you introduce yourselves?”

We did exactly that. Then, like with all our interviews, she asked about the album, the latest single, the tour—the standard stuff we could answer in our sleep, we’d been asked it so many times. I glanced out the studio window, to the hallway where Nicole was standing. She gave me a thumbs-up and smiled.

I nodded at her, wishing this interview was over and she and I were back in the elevator, alone. It was less than twenty-four hours since I’d last had her in my arms—if you didn’t count what had happened on the way up in the elevator—and I missed the closeness and having her to myself. I had lusted over women before, but it had never felt like this. Maybe this was advanced-level lust, saved for special occasions.

“Let’s get a question from one of our listeners,” Dennis said. “Melody, you’re on.”

“Hi,” a young female voice squeaked in my headphones. “I was wondering which of the guys has a girlfriend.”

“Okay, guys,” Stacey said, “the females of America want to know which of you are still available.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Nolan replied, which everyone was aware of after what had happened earlier this year. He’d been romantically linked to the actress Alyssa Graham, but that had been a sham the record label had arranged. It was later revealed that he was in love with Hailey.

“From the reports I’ve heard,” Stacey said, “you two are pretty serious. Is that true?”

“More like very serious,” he replied. “There’s no other woman for me.” For a second I wondered if he was going to say more, maybe blurt out a clumsy proposal on the air, but he leaned back in his chair and waited for the next person to answer the question.

“I’m married,” Jared jumped in.

“Recently too,” Stacey said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks!”

“Wow, popular with the female fans and already settling down,” Dennis piped up. “How do you do it, Jared? I mean, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t bother with settling down. I’d continue to enjoy dating.”

While he didn’t say it, we all knew what he meant. He wasn’t referring to actual dating. He was referring to what I’d been doing while touring—enjoying backstage sex with anyone interested in going there. But now that Nicole was touring with us, I wasn’t interested in being with anyone else that way—even if, for professional reasons, she and I weren’t allowed to have sex.

“It’s easy,” Jared said. “I love my wife and can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Dennis didn’t look so convinced. Fortunately, Stacey stepped in before he could say anything else. “What about the rest of you guys?” While she might have been asking the question of all of us, she looked specifically at me.

I had to fight the urge to glance at Nicole standing in the hallway. The moment I did that, one of the DJs might very well jump on it and force me to say something I didn’t want to say—either a lie that would hurt Nicole or the truth. What was going on between us wasn’t up for discussion.

“I’m currently single,” I replied after a heartbeat.

“You have quite the reputation of being a ladies’ man, Mason,” Dennis said. “Are you happy to be back on the road?”

I wasn’t sure what he was implying, since there was plenty of ass back in L.A. that I could’ve hooked up with. My lays weren’t strictly confined to touring. But it was a lot easier dealing with them then, because after the show finished, the band moved on and the girls were left behind.

“I’m always happy to be on the road,” I said. “Playing live to the fans is where it’s at. It’s why we tour.”

“It’s how we all feel,” Aaron said, saving me from more questions about my dating life.

The interview continued until Nicole finally indicated it was time to wrap it up so we could get ready for tonight.

“Thank you for being on the show,” Stacey said before playing another of our songs and signaling we were off the air.

“Great interview, guys,” Dennis said. “You handled it like real pros.”

I wasn’t sure what he had expected. We’d been doing this for well over a year now. We were pros.

As much as I wanted to ride the elevator with just Nicole and resume what we had been doing earlier, it didn’t look like it would happen. There was no reason for us to not get on with everyone else.

The elevator door opened, and we all piled in, along with two interns. Nicole and I stood in the back. Everyone else faced forward, waiting for the doors to reopen, exchanging words about the interview, and generally not paying attention to us.

Encouraged by Nicole’s sweet scent, I rested my hand on her lower back. She stiffened slightly, then her muscles relaxed and she leaned into my touch. I caressed her back with my thumb. She sucked in a small breath, too quiet to be heard by anyone but me. I’d screwed a lot of women over the years, but this was the first time one had left me uneager to walk away from her anytime soon.

The fans were just as noisy when we left the building as when we arrived, maybe even more so, their screams building in crescendo. We stopped for a moment to sign a few more autographs. Fans from behind surged forward, wanting their chance to get closer to us.

I scanned the area and spotted Nicole climbing into our van. I let out a relieved sigh that she was safe should something happen. We’d had a few close calls in the past, although nothing the guys and I couldn’t handle. But there was a huge difference between Nicole and us when it came to size and strength.

Fans reached out, eager to touch us, straining against the ropes designed to hold them back. Sensing things could get crazy soon, we waved goodbye and hustled to the van. As I sat next to Nicole in the back row, the relief I’d experienced a moment ago once she was safely inside the vehicle was now mirrored on her face. I reached for her hand and threaded my fingers with hers. She gave them a light squeeze, her attention focused on the fans outside the window.

Excitement buzzed in the van as we drove to the arena, and continued to grow as the van entered the parking lot where the tour buses were parked. This was typical before a concert—except usually before our part of the show, I’d fuck a groupie or two to keep the edge off. Some people did yoga to help them relax. Some went for a jog. I couldn’t see myself as the yoga type, and as much as I enjoyed running to keep in shape, it didn’t do much to help me get ready for a show. But since I didn’t want to disappear for fifteen minutes to screw a groupie while Nicole was with us, I didn’t know what else to do.

We exited the van, Nicole and I no longer holding hands, and entered the arena through the back door. The security guard checked our IDs, which hung around our necks on lanyards, and let us past. For now, Nicole had only a visitor ID, but it permitted her access to most places in the arena the band was allowed to go.

We were directed to the stage, where the roadies were fiddling with last-minute adjustments to the setup. A huge black banner formed a backdrop, separating Endless Motion’s equipment from our smaller part of the stage. That was the disadvantage of being the opening act: we didn’t get as much room to move around in. Nothing like for the main act. It didn’t matter to me, since I was the drummer. It wasn’t like I could go anywhere. But Nolan loved to move around when he sang, making the most of the stage.

The guys and I jumped up onto the platform while Nicole watched from the arena floor. We took our positions, and after the sound guy made the necessary adjustments, we played the set’s opening song.

While drumming, I watched Nicole dance around, moving to the beat I was creating. Over the years I’d seen how the fans responded to our music, but seeing how much she was enjoying it caused a ripple of pride inside me. It was the first time I’d felt anything like that. And it was the same pride I’d experienced after playing on the piano the music I’d created that no one had heard before…except for Nicole in that moment.

I could’ve easily played the rest of our set if it meant getting to watch her move like that some more.

With the sound check finished, we went backstage to prepare for tonight. We changed into our stage clothes and headed for the area designated for the meet-and-greet. This was our chance to visit with the fans who had won the opportunity to meet Pushing Limits and Endless Motion. When we first started touring after the release of our debut album, only a few individuals would trickle into the room set up for the band. Some had come into the wrong room, looking for Crazy Piper instead of us. But by the time we’d finished touring with them, our designated room had been packed each time. Because of that, the record label had decided we needed a bigger room on this tour. Even so, it was still packed.

We stood side by side near the exit, with the fans herded toward us like cattle. While it wasn’t my favorite way of doing things, at least it gave them a chance to meet us.

The large room smelled like a nightclub, minus the booze, with an extra helping of perfume. And it wasn’t easy to hear over the chattering of fans as they waited their turn, or the occasional individuals singing our songs in the background, as if auditioning to replace Nolan in the band.

“Can I get a picture of us together?” a woman asked, her long black hair styled in hundreds of tiny braids. She was hot in a tight T-shirt that clung to her sexy curves. She was the type of woman I would’ve been more than happy to screw before the show.

But instead of flirting with her, I glanced around for Nicole. Disappointment kicked me in the nuts when I couldn’t find her.

“Sure,” I said to the fan.

She stepped up to me, pressing her large tits against my arm, and shot the picture, her head close to mine. She checked how it looked and grinned, happy with the results, which was a relief. Some girls weren’t happy just to get a picture with a member of the band. The photo had to be worthy of the cover of Rolling Stone.

She thanked me and moved on to Kirk.

The girl behind her approached me, bouncing up and down like a cheerleader who had to take a piss. “OMG! I love you so much, Mason!” she shrieked. I managed to hold back a grimace. As much as I loved meeting the fans, there was a level of fangirling that was hard to take. She was approaching that line.

I smiled at her, but then had second thoughts about doing that when it looked like she might faint. Note to self: hold back on patented panty-dropping smile whenever dealing with fangirls who shriek.

“I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you,” she gushed, her words coming in a hurry. “You’re, like, the sexiest man alive.”

I laughed. “Tell that to People magazine.”

She nodded, the jerky movement reminding me of a grinning bobblehead. “I definitely will.” From the way she said it, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, even though I’d been joking.

The parade of fans continued. Some were excited to meet us and tell us how much they loved our music. Some wanted selfies with us. A couple of girls tried to kiss my cheek when I posed with them; by the third time, I had to preface the photo with a no-kissing rule—something I’d never felt the need to do before. Others required only a quick autograph. A couple of individuals tried to give us their demo CDs to pass on to our record label. Those were always filed away in the trash can after the meet-and-greet—as were the bras and panties flung at us while we were onstage.

The guy who had just handed me his demo moved on to Kirk…revealing Nicole. My heart did a rapid four-beat pattern. That was new. My heart had never responded that way to a woman before, clothed or unclothed.

For a second I cursed my no-kissing rule. At least then I could’ve persuaded Nicole to give me one, even if it was a quick peck on the cheek.

“Can’t wait to see you in concert,” she said with a smile.

I shifted closer, my mouth an inch from her ear. “Can’t wait for you to see what I can do with my hands,” I murmured.

She laughed, and not for the first time I wished we were back at her house, alone. Having fun. Being ourselves. “I already know how good you are with your hands,” she said before stepping away. She winked at me and moved on to Kirk.

I didn’t hear what he was saying to her, because in that moment, while I was no longer paying attention to anything other than Nicole, the next person in line swooped in and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Hey, babe,” she purred. “Do you remember me?”

The worst question you could ever ask a touring musician was if he remembered you, especially if he saw thousands of people a night. Chances were great the answer was no. And how was he supposed to respond when he was at risk of hurting your feelings? Because no girl ever asked “Do you remember me?” and wanted the answer to be no.

“How’re you doing?” I asked, nimbly avoiding the question. Which of course she took to mean that I did remember her.

“I’m going commando like last time.” Too bad she had to announce it loud enough for Kirk and Nicole to overhear, and both turned to look at us. Judging from the hurt on Nicole’s face for a fleeting moment, she no doubt assumed I would be disappearing with the fan right after this, for a little pre-concert stress release.

I was so busy paying attention to Nicole, I didn’t notice the woman lean into me. “Are you free after this? I’ve got some new moves I wanna show ya.” Her tongue forged a trail along my jaw.

My head jerked away from her as if a killer bee had stung me. “Thanks, but I’m gonna be busy after this.”

“What about after the concert?”

“Then too…that’s when we leave.”

She pouted, much the way Logan did whenever he was disappointed—a definite mood killer, if I’d been in the mood. “Even though Endless Motion hasn’t gone onstage yet?”

“Our bus driver likes to get an early start.” Maybe that would have been true if the driver had had a choice, but it didn’t matter—the buses all left at the same time, once the venue was packed up.

“That’s too bad. Maybe next time.”

“Yes, maybe next time,” I said, without really meaning it.

She moved on to talk to Kirk. I glanced at him to see how much Nicole had overheard, but she wasn’t with him or any of the other guys.