“As far as I know, they don’t have anything to hold them back in Australia,” Rafe said.
“Oh.” The pain in Parker’s chest grew. He wanted success for the HyperOctane and for his brother, he really did, he just didn’t want that success to mean relocating permanently to the United States. But if Rafe didn’t want to make this his home, then maybe the others wouldn’t either.
“Hey.” Rafe gripped him by the hand and pull him to a standstill. “Nothing’s been decided. And like I said, I don’t want to move, so I’ll definitely be pushing to keep Sydney as our base. You’ll still see Harvey.”
How did the guy do that? Rafe had this uncanny ability to read him like an open book. “It’s just nice to be back in the same hemisphere again.”
Rafe smiled and squeezed his hand. “I know. Hey, look over there.” He pointed to a sign standing in the middle of the pier. “It’s the Route 66 sign. This needs a photo. Come on, we’ll grab a selfie.”
“Do we have to?” Parker said, but secretly he was glad Rafe wanted to take some photos. It would be nice to have some snaps to remember the trip. He’d have to grab one or two on his own phone as well, proof this whole trip wasn’t a fantasy.
Rafe dragged him to the tall black-and-white sign that marked the end of the Route 66 trail. He pulled his iPhone from his pocket, positioning Parker beside him. He wrapped his arm around Parker’s shoulders, using his other hand to hold out the phone. “Say cheese.”
Rafe repositioned them and took a couple of more shots before pocketing his phone.
“Do you want me to take a few of just you and this awesome background?” Parker gestured around them. “So you can post them to the band’s Insta account?”
“Nah. Nigel would probably be into that, but this is about you and me. I don’t want to share the day with anyone else. Just you and me playing tourist before we need to go play rock stars.”
Rafe’s words washed over him as Rafe wandered off towards a coffee place.
Holy shit! I’m supposed to be rock star!It was the first time he’d thought beyond simply being up on the stage and playing the guitar. He wasn’t just meant to be a guitarist, he was supposed to be the whole package.I’m supposed to be a rock star! Fucking hell, what am I doing?
Even for a morning out sightseeing, Rafe looked the very epitome of the cool superstar with his skintight jeans, tight black Cold Chisel T-shirt showcasing his ripped torso and exposing tattooed biceps, and heavy boots. The breeze ruffled his chin-length hair, but it looked artfully tousled, held back by his black sunnies, not a shaggy mess like Parker’s own auburn locks likely were. Rafe stood out on the pier, tall and sexy, and he didn’t even have to try. Parker, on the other hand… He glanced down as his plain navy T-shirt, lightweight jacket, khaki cargo shorts, and skinny legs stuffed into sneakers. Not an ounce of sexy in sight.
Rafe looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming? I could murder for a cup of coffee.”
Jerked from his thoughts, he hotfooted it across to where Rafe was holding open the door to the coffee shop.
They ordered coffees to go—just placing the order was an education in cultural differences—and stood back to wait while their drinks were prepared. He looked around, taking it all in. The place was crazy busy and filled with what appeared to be locals and tourists alike. Then he noticed a group of people staring at him. Or rather, staring at them. Rafe was leaning casually against the wall, engrossed in his phone. Parker tapped his arm when a young guy from the group stood and headed their way.
“Hey, you’re from HyperOctane, right? Rafe?” The guy had a broad Aussie accent and a big grin.
Rafe nodded. “That’s me.”
“Holy shit, I can’t believe it. I come all the way over to LA for a holiday and here you are. I love your music. Are you doing a show over here? I’d love to catch one of your performances.”
“No official gigs in LA, but we’ll be at Rocktoberfest.”
“That’s awesome, mate. I wish we could get out there, but tickets have been sold out for months.”
By now they were attracting some attention, others in the queue listening in and the people at a nearby table staring, although trying to do it subtly. The whispers were starting up, too. It was clear some people either recognised Rafe or wondered what was going on and who was the superstar in their midst.
“Thanks. Listen I’ve got to get going, but you have a great time on your holiday. Maybe you’ll catch one of our shows back in Oz.”
“Sure thing, man. Damn, I still can’t believe I met you. Do you mind if I get a quick selfie?” The guy was almost bouncing on his feet with excitement, and if he smiled any wider, he’d split his face.
“Yeah. Get over here.” Rafe was the perfect ambassador for the band—friendly and amenable, putting the fan at ease and making their meeting a memorable one.
The guy stepped in and Rafe posed with him, pasting on a picture-perfect smile.
For a moment, Parker was reminded of the selfie he and Rafe had taken outside only minutes before, and jealousy flared. What was it Rafe had said? Today was about them. It rubbed him the wrong way that some random stranger thought it was okay to barge in on them.
“Thanks, man.” The guy grinned at Rafe as he shook his hand. “I can’t wait to show my friends. You’re so cool.” He was chuckling under his breath as he headed back to his table.
“Do you—” Rafe turned to Parker, then stopped speaking. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Parker swallowed. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”
