THE BUS WENT shockingly still, the silence jarring after the previous commotion. Catching Marsha’s eye, I shook my head in disbelief. She shook hers back at me. I attempted to catch my breath. The whole experience had been so immersive, I almost felt like I needed to risk the bathroom shower to clean up. I narrowed my gaze on Lucky, though his eyes remained hidden behind his shades, his smile broadened.
"Just how many stray women are there stowed away on this bus?"
"Just you two at the present." Lucky swiveled around as lights flicked on behind him. The bassist sans shooting star makeup appeared. He had an angelically handsome face framed by short wispy layers of oak brown hair. He acknowledged us with a chin lift before lowering his head to fasten the remaining buttons on his pants. The rhythm guitarist emerged next, minus his treble clef tears. He was making wardrobe adjustments of his own, tucking a black Jameson t-shirt into his jeans. Sandy curls that had been restrained by a bandana during the concert were wildly bedraggled. The drummer joined us last, the tallest of the three and the most handsome band member if their frontman didn’t factor in, which he most certainly did no matter how badly I wanted to deny it.
The drummer had eyes nearly the same golden brown hue as mine, a rare color I had been told, though the burnished gold of his melded more naturally with his mahogany hair. I doubted anyone ever asked him if he wore contacts like they often did me with me. His circa 1960’s Keith Richard’s hairstyle complimented his good looks.
"I see you brought snacks.” The drummer’s dark brown brows waggled at me from beneath his bangs. His accent was different than Lucky’s, more singsong.
"These are my mates," Lucky announced. "The comedian is our power hammer drummer, Rocky ‘the Stallion’ Walsh.”
“Stallion, huh?” Marsha stood, placing her hands on her hips. She was finally off her call. “A nod to Sylvester Stallone’s character in the boxing movies, I guess?” She tilted her head inquiringly.
"Nooo." He drew out the vowel while his amber eyes latched onto my best friend like she was a cool drink of water in a deep drought. "More a horse reference...since I happen to be hung like one."
"He's daft. He thinks the magnification disclaimer on his mirror doesn’t apply.” That smart comment earned the ringlet haired rhythm man a slap to the back of his head from the drummer. "Cody Charles.” The guitarist offered his hand first to Marsha then to me. “Nickname is Chords.” His gunmetal grey eyes glinted warmly. "Guests on the rage cage calls for a meet and greet with tequila. I'll get the shot glasses. Someone find us a bag of crisps."
"Hello, I'm Alec Harris. That lout there," the bassist gestured at Lucky, "likes to call me Amp.” He had an accent like his frontman, but he had a more formal way of speaking. I wondered if it was because of his upbringing or just his personality. The oak tinted layers that framed his face were perfectly combed. Too perfect. I had an urge to reach out and ruffle them. Lucky actually did.
"Sod off," Alec told him without any real heat.
"I'm Raven Winters." I threw my arm around my best friend’s slim shoulders. "This is Marsha West. Mars if she lets you in her inner circle."
"I’d fancy her inner circle." Rocky waggled his brows again.
"Lame." Marsha rolled her eyes.
"Thanks for letting us tag along with you to New York.”
"Your Rayne's girl." Alec's jade green, assessing gaze shifted from me to Marsha. “And you're her videographer. Nice editing.” The bassist nodded approvingly. “I really liked the black and white montage on the last post. Very sexy. I subscribed to your YouTube channel after the party in Dallas."
"Thanks." My bestie beamed. I sensed insta-friendship between her and Alec.
"Lucky!” The pretty brunette from the frontman’s hotel room emerged from behind the lanky drummer. Not a stowaway like us, apparently she traveled with the band. Wearing a short set of cotton pajamas that were notably rumpled, she blushed profusely as her gaze passed over Alec and Cody. So it had been her with those two in the stabbin’ cabin testing the mettle of the shock absorbers. “Did they have any Maltesers ?” Circumnavigating the throng, she padded over the tiles. Her cute pink tipped toes quickly closed the distance between her and the lead singer. It seemed she had missed him. I studied his face. No frown. No scowl. Strange that he didn't seem bothered by the fact that she had been in the back frolicking with not just one but three of his bandmates.
"Yes dearest, though I really wish you would eat fruit or something more healthy than sweets." He kissed the top of her head, handed her a red bag of candy with malted balls pictured on the wrapping. She clutched the treasure to her chest while he tucked her closer into his side. She looked good there. Comfortable. Like they had been together a long time. I brushed aside an icy sliver of envy.
"Sit. Sit." Cody's golden ringlets bounced excitedly as he turned away from the kitchen area, plastic tequila shot glasses arranged on the tray in his hand. "Tell us about yourselves.” The rhythm guitarist took a seat on the left couch and crossed one finely stitched designer jean clad leg over the other. He was cute. All the guys in the Dragons were hot and had sexy accents. But in my secret thoughts I acknowledged that their frontman rocked the handsome quotient the hardest.
"I think you probably already know the generalities. We’re traveling this summer like you guys. Seeing some shows. We were on our way to the same one you’re headed to in New York, but our car broke down," Marsha explained, lifting an overfull shot glass from the tray. I chose a half full one, enough to break the ice but not enough to go crazy. I didn't need tequila type trouble with the tatted and tempting lead singer so near. "Lucky rescued us,” she added.
"Not exactly," I corrected, slathering each letter with a liberal coating of sarcasm. "More like propositioned me before Mars appealed to his charitable side."
"He has one of those?"
"Bugger off, Rocky." Lucky expelled a short breath.
"Why didn't you call Rayne?" Alec’s eyes slid my way. Lucky’s shaded gaze pivoted and locked on me. His interest seemed particularly piqued by the question. Actually, everyone seemed to be waiting for my answer.
"Because we're not together-together." I shrugged.
"He gave a statement to the press that made it seem like he thinks otherwise. Most of the media sites are running with the angle of you being his newest love interest," the bassist informed us.
My brows rose. I was as surprised by Rayne’s reaction as I was by the fact that Alec so closely followed celebrity gossip.
"You haven't seen the pictures of the two of you at the hotel?" he guessed.
I shook my head. "I've been driving all day.” And who the hell got photos, I wondered. We had been discreet. We had entered through the side entrance. I hadn't seen anyone around the Omni.
Alec pressed his phone into my hands. I flipped through a couple of pictures. They were grainy, but it was Rayne and me. Definitely. My stomach sank. The incendiary sex seemed tarnished by the shots that must have been taken by a high power lens from another high rise building. I hadn't noticed that Rayne’s bedroom windows had been open. Lucky's gaze met mine. His sunglasses were on top of his head now. No filter. I plainly saw the disapproval in his eyes. But why? Who was he to judge? Wasn't he playing the same game? Hookups with no emotional entanglements. He had his brunette. I'd had a rock icon. Rock Fuck Club trophy number one.