Love on the Rocks (Love on Tour #1) (5 page)

5

This was going to be a total disaster.

The men at least had on sturdy boots. In fact, with the exception of Raif in his Cons, they were well equipped for the rough terrain. They all had sunglasses too, and now that I’d sent Mike back to the bus to fetch water bottles, they would be in pretty good shape.

But the women, in short skirts and high heels, were another problem altogether. I had already tried logic, but that had turned into a whine-fest, the likes of which I had no intention of provoking again. After a brief explanation about the dangers of hiking in the desert in heels I was assaulted with ludicrous responses such as, “but these are my cute shoes,” “I don’t have any heels lower than 3 inches,” and “you couldn’t possible expect me to wear something like that.” The last comment was accompanied by a distasteful look at my sturdy, leather hiking boots.

I decided it wasn’t my problem and set off down the trail. I was in the lead with Sean just behind me. I tried to keep a good pace so that I could distance myself from the half-dozen groupies I could hear carrying-on at the back of the pack. Sean, with his long legs, easily kept up with me, as did Mike. Henry chose to hang in the back and help out the girls. I pretended the girls didn’t exist, and forged on into the desert.

I stopped to gape at the sunset along a picturesque ridge. Mike and Sean stood silently with me, watching the sky turn from deep orange, to red, to violet. The sound of the pack behind us was gaining, so we set off again. We watched the darkness descend and the stars pour out into night while we walked.

It was when I spotted our first scorpion with my black light that we lost most of the pack. We sent the word back along our hiking trail so no one would step on the small creature. That led to screaming and hysterics from the women, as well as the declaration from a few of the men that they were “done with this shit.”

Then the fun really began. With just five of us left, we hiked in the darkness, witnessing the night bloom of the cactus, the scurrying of desert wildlife, the sounds of the bats and owls looking for a feast.

By the time we returned to the bus to begin our overnight haul toward El Paso, I had come to accept a few things. One, I wasn’t going to have any girl friends on this trip. In addition to having absolutely nothing in common with any of these women, I found that I could barely tolerate them. I felt bad about it. But it was just the way it was. Two, I had grown extremely comfortable in a very short time in the company of these men, particularly Henry, Mike, and Sean. Three, I was having a good time.

****

My physical attraction to Henry had not necessarily grown stronger with familiarity, but it hadn’t waned either. So I avoided being alone with him.  As a result, I found myself hanging out in Sean’s green room before the El Paso concert.

He was quiet, as usual, moving about the room, tweaking his guitars, doing something on his iPad. I sat on the dorm-room-esque couch in the far corner, playing with my laptop. I was messaging with my brother, Brad. He was telling me about his latest girlfriend. Each new girl was always ‘the one,’ but then they would only last a few weeks at most. I was in the middle of creating a polite, but honest, response to my brother when I heard Sean strum his acoustic guitar.

Instead of tuning the guitar, as I expected, he began to play. I recognized the riff and pulled the computer off my lap, sitting up on the couch to face him. I was pinging with anticipation.

Sean was looking down at the guitar as he played, and he kept his eyes down when he started to sing. His deep voice, slow and strong, pulled the verses like taffy. I leaned back and closed my eyes. My lips moved, though no sound came out, as I sang along.

When he was done with his tribute to The Band, he moved on to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, followed by one of my all time favorite Stones tunes. I was in music heaven.

Unfortunately, my listening pleasure was interrupted by an obnoxious knock on the door. Sean’s hand stilled and he looked up.

“It’s me,” came a voice from behind the door.

“Come in,” Sean responded.

Mike stepped into the room. “Hey, Baby,” he said, when he saw me. I tried not to scowl at him. “Henry’s just getting started.” As he said this I could hear the roar of the crowd coming from the stadium. “And Lyle is struggling with the riff on the new tune.”

“Kay.”

Sean stood and placed the precious acoustic guitar back in its case. Then he grabbed the electric guitar roughly and headed out the door. He did all this without once meeting my eyes.

Mike grinned at me. “Wanna watch the show?”

I felt like my entire body was humming. I needed to calm down, and rock ‘n roll was not the way to do.

I stood up slowly. “Mike? Do you think you could rustle me up a beer and a cigarette?”

Mike tilted his head and gazed at me with curiosity. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Sometimes,” I admitted.

“Piece of cake,” he said putting his arm around my shoulders and leading me toward the door.

It took Mike all of 90 seconds to grab two beers from a cooler that sat in the one of the smaller rooms off the hallway and bum a cigarette from a roadie. Then he led me to the loading dock.

Mike took a seat next to me on the concrete ramp, opened both beer bottles and lit my cigarette for me. I took a long drag. It had been at least six months since I’d smoked. I instantly felt that old familiar feel of the smoke in my lungs, the cigarette between my fingers, and, much to my chagrin, the buzz in my brain.

But the insane sense of uncontrollable energy was at least gone. And I felt myself relaxing. I took a pull on the beer. Mike didn’t disturb me. He sat quietly and stared out at the city lights.

I knew that the reason I’d wanted this escape was because I felt disturbed, uneasy. For the first time since I’d gotten on the tour bus I was unsure that I’d made the right decision. And I had no idea why. Clearly my reaction, both the physical one of uncontrollable energy and edginess, and the emotional feeling of discomfort, were in response to Sean singing to me. But I didn’t understand why.

I needed to distract myself from my inner thoughts. “Where did you grow up Mike?”

“L.A.” He said simply. “I was a dorky kid, obsessed with music.”

“Guess you found the right career.”

“You have no idea. I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

“You love your job?”

“Yes, I do. I get to do what I love. I get to work for Sean, who’s about the greatest boss you could ask for. I make stupid good money. Sometimes I think he pays me too much. I’m twenty-eight and I have an amazing apartment near the beach in Malibu and my dream car. There are days I feel like I won the lottery.”

“No special girl yet, though?” I asked.

Mike gave me the strangest look. Then he laughed.

“What?”

“Not very observant for a Psychology major from San Francisco,” he said.

“Oh.” I was an idiot. Mike never paid any attention to the groupies. And apparently it wasn’t because he had a girlfriend or a wife back home. “You’re gay?”

“Yep. You look surprised.”

I tried not to.

“Don’t worry about it, Baby. Very few people figure it out on their own. I guess I don’t ‘look’ the part. At least that what Hank always says.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I said. “And not very PC.”

“Yeah, that’s usually what Sean tells him.”

“He tells him it’s not PC?”

“Actually he says something along the lines of ‘shut the fuck up Hank and quit stereotyping.’” Mike did an excellent impersonation of Sean’s grumbling responses to Henry.

I laughed, but talking about Sean was not on the list of things I wanted to do right then. So I dove into a full snoop on Mike’s life.

“Do you have an active love life? Or does your job put a damper on that?”

“Actually, my job does get in the way, but not for the reasons you might think. I do alright in L.A. But I can’t keep anyone interested in me when I’m hanging out with Hank all the time, like I am on tour. It’s hard on the ego when the person you’re with is drooling over someone else the whole time. So I don’t bring love interests onto the bus anymore.”

“I can see how that would be a problem, yeah.”

“Actually you’re the first person in a while that’s been on the bus, other than Hank’s one-nighters. It’s been pretty great having you along, Baby.”

“Thanks, Mike. I’m having a good time,” I told him.

And it would be even easier now that I knew absolutely no one on that bus wanted to sleep me, except maybe Tony. But I wasn’t going to worry about him.

I finished the cigarette, but stayed put until I’d drained my beer. I tried to convince myself that I was thoroughly relaxed.

“Okay,” I said, pulling myself up. “Let’s go watch the show.”

Mike followed me silently as I made my way back down the corridor, grabbed two more beers from the same cooler, and headed backstage.

****

By the time Henry was done singing I had consumed both the beers. And as a person who was both light and a lightweight, I was two-sheets to the wind, and I knew it. So when Henry came off the stage sweaty, gorgeous, and shirtless I asked Mike to fetch me another beer.

“Hey, Baby.” Henry sauntered over to me. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I loved it,” I told him, in what my drunken self hoped was a sultry voice.

Henry looked me over. “Are you drunk, Baby?”

I shrugged. My drunken mind hoped it looked coy. Henry chuckled. After wiping down with a towel he sat down beside me. Today I was perched on some sort of cart Mike had wisely locked the wheels on. The thing must have been sturdier than it looked because it didn’t so much as flinch when all 200 pounds of Henry sat on it.

The stage was dark and the roadies were running around replacing equipment. Henry pointed them all out to me and had a story to tell about each one. Paul had once broken his arm swinging from the rafters at the Palace of Auburn Hills. One guy’s nickname was Tiny because he was really little. Henry had once tossed him into the crowd an he flew 50 feet because he was so light.

When Mike arrived with my beer I’d changed my mind about drinking it.

Henry laughed again. “Don’t refrain because of me, Baby. I might not drink anymore, but getting girls drunk is still a special talent of mine.”

His eyes twinkled, and I realized that the last thing I should be doing in this man’s presence was getting more drunk. I set my beer down.

I jumped as a voice came from behind me.

“I promised Baby nobody’d try to sleep with her, jackass,” Sean said. His tone was light and amused.

Henry laughed. “I didn’t make any such promise, brother.”

Sean gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading on stage to raucous applause. Henry stayed beside me throughout Sean’s set. We even danced together for a while. And I felt comfortable and at ease once again.

****

I found myself unexpectedly in love with Austin. The city was teeming with life and culture and music. We arrived in the afternoon and checked into our hotel. The suite I was sharing with Sean was far better than the previous two we’d stayed in. This one was on the top floor and as big as the house I grew up in. The bedroom was completely separate and had its own bathroom. Sean insisted that I take the bedroom while he slept on the Queen-sized bed that sat in an alcove off the gigantic living room.

Sean and Henry had a meeting almost as soon as we arrived, but they promised to take me out to dinner that night. So I decided to go for a swim while I waited for their return. Despite the fact that it was nearly 80 degrees and the outdoor pool was heated, I was still the only one using it. I swam laps for about 30 minutes.

I was just getting out of the pool when a flock of groupies arrived in tiny bikinis to sunbathe on the chaise lounges that ringed the pool. I knew deep down that I should make a greater effort to at least be friendly with these women. But in my defense, I rarely ever saw them. Because I rode on bus one and spent my time before and during the concerts backstage, I was, in essence, apart from them. Yet we were traveling together, and it felt wrong to be so separated from those of my own gender, even if I did have little to nothing in common with them.

So I decided to change the dynamic. They sat in a line of chairs facing the pool. Heather, whom I’d gathered was sort of the leader, sat in the center. I sat down on my towel on the patch of ground opposite her.

“Hi,” I said simply.

They stared at me for a long time. I felt as though I was being examined. They looked me up and down. I curled my legs up to my chest.

“So,” Heather said. “What’s your story, Baby?”

I shrugged. “No story really. I met Sean and Henry in a diner in Nevada and they asked me to tag along.”

“So, do you do the books for them or something?” A different woman asked. I thought her name was Wendy.

I laughed. “Nope. Just a tag-a-long. Not an employee.”

“I know,” Heather said triumphantly, as if she’d just solved a math problem in her head. “You must be Lyle’s thing on the side.”