We play a packed show in Baltimore. The crowd screams, cheers, and brings out the best performance we’ve had so far this tour. When we finally make our way offstage after a second encore, we’re all soaked in sweat, both from the stage lights and the beast of a show we put in the books.
The compliments and congrats the crew offer on the way to our green room bolster my already soaring confidence.
Bedo’s inside waiting to greet us, his eyes trained on the cell phone that might as well be glued to his fingers. The thick rope of his gold chain glints with the illumination from the ceiling fluorescents. It rests against his white collared button down while his maroon corduroy pants bounce with a nervous beat. Bedo doesn’t travel with us on the bus, but he makes it to almost every performance. After a show like tonight he should be beaming with pride, with dollar signs in his eyes, because we rocked that packed arena. But the pinch of his lips gives me a suspicion this visit is going down like a trip to the principal’s office. My mind runs through the possible infractions but comes up blank . . . Unless he discovered the reason behind our fresh eyebrow stylings.
Shit. I don’t think he’d appreciate the humor in our panty burglar escapades.
“I’m sure you can guess why I’m here, and while I can’t say I’m not surprised. I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me. As your manager I deserve honesty. Forthrightness. It’s the only way I stay ahead of these stories.”
I glance over to Sean and Austin, but they appear as lost as I am. Iz pulls a vape—the one Lexi got him—from his pocket and clicks it on, his inhale and exhale the only sounds in the room.
“Really? No one has anything to say?” Bedo sets his phone down. Oh, shit. That thing is an extra appendage. He’s not fucking around. I don’t know what he wants from us, though. So we pulled a prank? It’s not like we’re gonna rat each other out or blame it on one person.
Sean pulls his arms across his chest and flexes his arms. He’s a blockade. No one can break him.
But when my stare flicks to Austin, I realize we’re screwed. Sweat drips from his hairline, down his forehead, and the eyebrows Lexi helped reconstruct with a brown makeup pencil are starting to blur. He runs the back of his arm across his forehead, taking with it his perspiration and most of the eyebrow paint.
Bedo’s stare lands on Austin. “What in the fuck happened to your face?”
That’s all it takes for Austin to turn into Mr. Loose Lips. “It was the panties! Okay? It was the goddamn panties! Haven’t we suffered enough? We don’t need a verbal lashing from you, too! Look at me, man.” He scrubs his palms over his face and the rest of the makeup wipes clear. “I have no fucking eyebrows!”
Bedo blinks. That’s all he does. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t react in any other way and I wonder if Three Ugly Guys is just too much for one person to take. We aren’t the first band Bedo’s worked with; he’s been in the biz for thirty plus years. But maybe at some point there’s a limit for all the stupid shit one person can endure.
None of us speak as Bedo gathers his thoughts—or sanity, more likely—and it’s uncomfortably quiet with the click click whoosh of Iz’s vape the only background noise.
“One. I’m going to ignore the panty comment. I don’t even want to know what depravity that involves. Two. The lack of eyebrows? When you’re in public put on a damn hat.” He snaps the last part at Austin. “Now, what I came here for, and what I want to know, is why no one informed me that Sean and Lexi are dating.”
No fucking way. The green eyed monster within my mind rears its ugly head and I grip the couch cushion so I don’t leap across the room to punch Sean in the face. Him? Her? How? Why? When? It can’t be.
She should be with me.
Nervous laughter leaves Sean’s mouth and he rubs the knees of his jeans. All eyes are on him, and it’s not only Bedo staring at the man in the hot seat.
“We had a promise. No one fucks her.” I sound like a bitter loser, but I can’t seem to control the betrayal and disappointment that take over my thoughts.
“Dude.” Sean looks around, meets each of our stares, lands on me last. “Really? There’s nothing going on with me and Lex. If anyone one has been crossing that line, it’s you.”
Relief settles the coils of my muscles. I didn’t realize even my fists were clenched. “Sorry, Sean.” I mutter my apology, and Bedo’s pinched glare is now trained on me. Fuck.
He shakes his head and lifts his gaze to the ceiling as if it contains more answers. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He shakes his head again and picks up his phone. “Well, the press is having a heyday with these photos.” He tosses the device to Sean.
Austin leans to the left to peer over his shoulder. “Fuck, look at you. Young and in love. When’s the wedding?” he teases and Sean shoves him back.
“Let me see,” I say and Sean tosses the phone to me. Crap. There it is. If I wasn’t a witness, I wouldn’t believe Sean. The way his head leans down to hers and they’re both smiling. Someone snapped these on our way back from the wing challenge, not far from the stadium.
“If this is nothing, that’s fine. But if it’s something, we need to prepare for damage control when you two inevitably break up. But we can use this to our advantage. Hype up ticket sales for the remaining tour dates. Budding romance between two young rock stars. It’s a story everyone loves.”
I hate it. And I hate the way Bedo talks about Lexi as if she’s some sort of prop. We sell out shows on our own.
“But we’re not a couple. We were just talking. I think I told her I had to shit. That’s why she’s laughing.” Sean nods to the phone still clenched in my fingers. Damn it. I hate these photos more than I should. My subconscious unleashes my vexation on the poor phone. Returning the cell to Bedo like a game of hot potato gone wrong, I attempt to get a handle on my feelings.
“I’m just saying if it were, it wouldn’t be the worst. Especially when they connect who she is.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to say anything about that,” Austin says.
“You aren’t.” Bedo stands and just like that he’s done here. “And since you fuckers played two encores tonight and Austin decided to make love to his Fender during every one of his solos, you four only have . . .” He glances at his phone. “One hour until the bus leaves. I’ll have dinner delivered.”
“What? We can’t go out? Who are you, our mother?” Austin complains, but my eyes stay on Bedo. Something in his dismissive attitude rubs me wrong. The guys continue to bitch and whine about the lack of celebration tonight, but when Bedo leaves the room, I follow.
“Hey, Bedo, wait up!” I call out before he turns a second corner and I lose him in the bustle of roadies already tearing down, packing up for the next show.
His eyes snap up from his phone screen and his lips pinch. “Don’t try to persuade me. You’re not going out tonight.”
“No. Not that.” And it’s not. What I want to ask is far more uncomfortable because of the doubt that seeps out along with the question. I’ve never not trusted Bedo, that he’s got our best interests at heart or that he’s on our side, and I’m almost certain he’s not gonna like what I have to say.
“What? Spit it out, Trent. I have a ton of work and an early flight to catch.”
“You aren’t going to say anything to the press, are you?”
His brow gathers and lips lift in a trace of a smile. “About Lexi and Sean?” He tilts his head as if he’s trying to uncover more than the answer with his stare.
“No. Not that.” I shake my head, my hair falling into my eyes until I brush it back. Even though the idea doesn’t sit well, I know it was false. My concerns run deeper than a little celebrity romance gossip. I peer around and drop my voice. It’s not crowded per se, but I don’t need some roadie or security guard to overhear. “About her father, and who he is?”
Bedo’s eyes widen and his smile leaves his face. “You know legally I can’t.”
I don’t like how offhand he is. How he leaves himself just enough of a loophole. Like we both don’t realize how easy it is to leak a rumor to the press. As if they won’t have a feeding frenzy with the truth. I’m overcome with a desire to protect her. To keep her secret safe.
“Don’t.” The word leaves my mouth in a growl. “If it hits the press, you’re fired.”
Bedo straightens his spine, and an offended scoff escapes his mouth. “Anyone can discover that information, Trent. It’s public knowledge. The right person recognizes her or puts two and two together—that’s all it takes. I can’t control it.”
Most of what he says is true, sure, but again I’m left with the certainty that Bedo’s not being one hundred percent transparent. The feeling’s not based on fact or experience; just my gut. I take a step closer because I tower over him and I can be intimidating when I need to be. Besides, Bedo might be our manager, but ultimately he works for the band and myself, and if he does anything to hurt Lexi I won’t have a problem cutting him loose.
“Come on, Bedo. You’re the best in the biz.” My lips pull into a wide smile that doesn’t show my teeth and I raise my brow. “Do your thing. Make your magic happen. And make damn sure no one talks about Lexi’s father. You can do it. I have faith in you.” I clasp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze too tight.
Bedo’s jaw works back and forth until he responds with a winning smile. “Of course, Trent. Consider it done.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” For good measure I give him a pat on the back that might leave a mark. “See you in Philly?”
He steps back, out of my reach. “Yeah. And I’ve got radio spots lined up in the afternoon. It’s a tight schedule before you play The Mann, so be ready to work the crowd.”
I walk backwards a few steps and slap my chest with a wink. “I’m always ready, baby. That’s why you love me!” He grumbles something under his breath, but I don’t stick around to find out what. I’ve got to grab the guys and get on the bus. The extra pep in my step has nothing to do with the blonde pixie who’s already on board and waiting. Most likely decked out in a big sweatshirt and shorty shorts that bring all the attention to those strong, shapely legs. Legs I imagine wrapped around my waist. Or my head. Nope. That’s not the reason I jog the rest of the way. Not at all.