Knox

I wasn’t lying yesterday.

I did jack off to the mental image of Libby using a vibrator to get herself off last night … and then I did it again in the shower this morning. I should feel guilty about it, but I don’t.

She’s breaking through my barriers. I can’t get her off my mind. I planned on having whomever my fling of the month was to come over last night for a goodbye fuck. She texted, but I never replied, changing my mind because I couldn’t get Libby off my mind.

I drag the bags Libby helped me pack down the stairs. There’s not much in them because I don’t keep personal shit with me when I travel.

I head into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water, and open up the sliding glass doors to find Nate lying by the pool. I pluck the sunglasses off his face when I reach him.

“I’m about to head out,” I tell him. “Take care of my house. No throwing parties.” I point his glasses at him. “And I’m not kidding. I have people watching the place and tattling on you every second.”

He squints at the bright sun and scrunches up his nose. “You threw parties here almost daily,” he argues. I knew I had to have this talk with him to lay down some ground rules.

“And? This is my house. I can do whatever the fuck I want to do in it because I pay the bills. Not you. You want to buy the house from me and throw parties? Cool. Until then, no parties. I don’t want my house trashed, my shit stolen, or people lurking around here.”

He snatches the glasses back from me. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. I’ll be a good boy.”

I’m not sure if I believe him or not, but it’s too late to find him a new place to stay. I’ll have Libby look for rentals while we’re on the bus. Nate has been working long enough to start paying his own bills, and I don’t give a shit if my family gets pissed about it. It’s not my job to take care of everyone.

I head back into the house and pull out my phone to text Libby.

Me: You almost here?

I gave her a hard time about the whole vibrator thing and hope she doesn’t decide to bail on me for it. I contemplated texting her and apologizing last night, but decided against it.

My phone beeps with a response.

Libby: About 5 minutes out.

I open up the front door to find most of the crew already outside waiting to leave. My chef, Marvin, and personal trainer, Lucas, are loading their bags onto their bus. I don’t keep a large staff on tour with me or do the outrageous shit like cigar rollers and foot massagers, but I keep my barber, trainer, and chef with me.

When I first started, I didn’t bring a chef. I thought I could count on my mom to cook for us, but she bailed on that idea, and I hired Marvin so I don’t eat like shit the entire time.

I talk to them until I see the Jeep roll up. Libby gets out wearing another one of her dresses and unloads her bag from the back before I get the chance to help her. I notice a small paper bag shoved underneath her armpit as she wheels her suitcase towards me.

She hands me the bag, and I grin as I open it up. “You brought me an Egg McMuffin?” I ask, pulling the breakfast sandwich out.

“I did. I know your trainer is traveling with us, and I have a feeling he’s not going to let you get your hands on these very often.”

“I know I didn’t hear you say McMuffin?” Lucas yells from across the driveway.

I hide the bag behind my back. “Nothing to see here,” I holler back. “Move along.” I tilt my head towards my bus and look at Libby. “Come on, let’s get our shit in here.”

She leads the way and turns back to look at me when we make it inside. “This is seriously your tour bus?”

I nod. “Go big or go home. I like to be comfortable when I’m traveling.”

My bus is the most kickass one I’ve ever seen, and I paid a pretty penny for it. There’s a full kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. The sectional couch provides plenty of sitting room, and the flat screen TV will help keep us entertained. In the back, there’s a bathroom with a nice size shower and a master bedroom that doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic.

“Do I stay in here with you or on the bus with the others?”

“You’re my personal assistant. You stay here.”

“But those guys are your personal chef and trainer.”

“They make me run and prepare my food. If I ask them my schedule, they have no clue. If I ask them to take care of something business related, they can’t do it. You’re the most important person to me on tour, so I need you by my side.”

“Knock knock,” Thomas yells, coming up the stairs. He looks straight at Libby before acknowledging me. “You ready for this?”

“What am I?” I ask. “Chopped liver?”

“I think so,” Libby answers him. “It’s definitely going to be a more peculiar experience than what I’m used to.”

“If there’s one thing I can guarantee about this tour, it’s that. Knox can be a handful, but he keeps his bus clean, doesn’t allow groupies on it, and you don’t have to worry about walking in on guys snorting cocaine off the bathroom counter. You’ll be safe in here.”

“That’s good to know.”

I keep my eyes on her, and she doesn’t seem phased with Thomas talking about cocaine on bathroom counters. Damn, maybe her dad did give her a rough time when she traveled with him.

Thomas is right, though. If I hook up with someone on tour, I take her to my hotel room. There’s something personal and sacred about my bus. Magazines have offered thousands for pictures inside, and I always decline. It will take away the sanctuary of it all.

“I’ll keep in touch with both of you and try to make it to as many stops as I can. If anything important comes up, call me immediately,” he goes on.

We both nod in response and then wave goodbye to him when the driver tells us it’s show time.

“So … what do we do now?” she asks, plopping down on the couch.

Tours are pretty damn boring, to be honest. You’re stuck on a bus for thousands of miles and countless hours. We thankfully have Wi-Fi, cable, and plenty of movies, but that can only keep you entertained for so long. Maybe that’s why this is where I get my best writing done. I don’t have shit else to do.

“We can make out on the couch?” I suggest.

She picks up a pillow and launches it at me. “We haven’t even left yet. You can’t start pissing me off this early.”