“What? What’s going on?” I say, sipping my latte, making no move to get up.
“Coffee! We need it. Travis keeps falling asleep.”
There’s yelling in the background, and I sigh, hanging up and walking back to the counter. I am not their coffee girl, their mommy, or secretary. Calvin should be doing these menial tasks; he’s the manager, for God’s sake. But I do it because Calvin is a sexist pig.
I order each of the guys a coffee just the way they like it. Black for Penn—easy. Iced caramel latte for Liam because he’s just as sweet. Tanner is a psycho who runs on…who knows what. He doesn’t drink coffee, but he’s constantly wired as if he’s had one too many espressos. I order him a green tea instead. Travis gets a double shot because obviously, he’s tired. I don’t order shit for Calvin because fuck him, I’m not his bitch.
2
TRAVIS
“Someone needsto deal with this. I can’t do everything,” our shit-stirring manager complains.
“You are literally paid to do this,” Tanner replies flatly.
“What do you want me to do? This is the third time this week he’s passed out during rehearsal!” He huffs, then snaps his fingers. “I got it, I’ll get him some Adderall.”
“The fuck you will,” Penn bites out.
I hold in my smirk. I’m not asleep anymore, but I wish I was. I’d like some Adderall, I’m fucking zapped, but I know my best friends and bandmates aren’t going to make it easy for me to sneak drugs. Plus, I’ve been off pills for…I’ve lost count of how long. I only dabbled, really, but I liked it a whole lot. It’d be a slippery slope if I started fucking around again.
“Well, I don’t?—”
“I’m here. I’m here! I brought the goods.”
My lip twitches at the familiar, throaty voice.
“Thank God. He’s over there. The lump in the corner,” Calvin says.
Tanner finally handed the reins over to Calvin because itwas too much for him to manage us now that we’re touring. He’s not quite as anal as Tanner, but a close second. I would’ve opted for someone more go-with-the-flow, but apparently my vote didn’t count. Can you believe that? I’m the lead singer, face of this whole operation, andIdon’t get a say? Pfft.
A pointy shoe kicks my shin. “Come on, sleepyhead.”
I ignore Ellie, our marketing manager and my ex-fling, then the smell of coffee wafts through my nostrils, and my eyes flip open. She stands over me, her short, curvy frame covered in a comfortable-looking red jumpsuit that matches her full lips. Her warm brown hair with just the right amount of light streaks is pulled back into a little clip that screams “professional,” and she has been exactly that—professional.Ever since we officially hired her.
Everyone was worried we wouldn’t be able to work together, but we’ve proved them wrong so far. I haven’t flirted with her once, even though I’ve been tempted. Everything was just so easy with her.
I have an endless pile of girls waiting for me every week. I could have a new flavor every day, and most nights I do, but it’s work. It’s exhausting. Fucking should be fun and exciting, but all these groupie chicks are the same. They are so pliable. Putty in your hands. With all their compliments and overdramatic moaning and screaming. Jesus Christ, the screaming. It’s a tour bus; everyone knows what we’re doing. You don’t need to make it more obvious. I’m good, but not that damn good. You know what, forget I said that. Iamthat good. But everything about them is fake.
Ellie’s different—feisty and was never afraid to take control and demand the things she wanted to get pleasure. She’s not ashamed of her desires. She made me work for it. It was always a damned good time with her.
So, I’m proud I’ve refrained from sneaking her into my bed. If the guys only knew how much self-control that takes. It’s probably why I’m so tired.
“Take the coffee before I drop it in your lap. It’s hot, by the way,” she warns, and I finally snatch the cup from her outstretched hand. I drink and wait for the double dose of caffeine to take effect. She never brings me anything less.
“Where’s mine?” Calvin shuffles over, wearing a frown.
“No idea.” Ellie shrugs, taking a drink, hiding a shit-eating grin behind the rim.
“So you brought everyone here something except me? I’m the one who called you!”
“Last time I checked, ‘errand girl’ wasn’t in my job description. I simply did myfriendsa favor. Sorry you’re not one of them.”
Calvin scoffs, walking away, and a victorious smile spreads across Ellie’s face. I haven’t figured out what their deal is yet. They’re constantly at each other’s throats, but I’m pretty sure there’s a hidden flame of desire underneath their hate, at least for Calvin. I know he’s attracted to Ellie. Most guys are. She has this air of sexy confidence around her that sucks you in. When we’d introduced them before the tour, I saw the way his eyes lit up as they roamed over her, drool practically spilling from his mouth. But that’s a line he can’t cross. It’s literally in his fucking contract. It’s probably why he’s always in a bad mood. He needs to get laid.
“You know if you spent your nights sleeping, you wouldn’t be this tired,” Ellie informs me.
“I can sleep when I’m dead. Not jealous, are you?”
