Sully shrugs and sits next to Lars, who ignores everyone as he hunches over and scrolls through his phone. “I texted I couldn’t make it.” His voice rumbles and heat creeps up my neck when his eyes lock on me.
I sink a little deeper into my seat. I’m the reason he ditched those interviews.
“Dude, say it, don’t spit it on me,” Lars halfheartedly laughs, wiping his arm and glaring at Sully.
Ben sits up and throws a shoe at Lars’s leg, hitting his knee. “That’s not how you say that.”
“Hey! That hurt!” Ben shouts, throwing the shoe back at Lars, who blocks the flying object with his arms covering his head.
Sully smirks at me before turning his attention to Charlotte. “You’ve always handled the interviews brilliantly. I never talk anyway.”
“Yes, but someone might’ve noticed you were missing. Rumors start as a whisper but can unfold into a nightmare if you’re not careful. You’re lucky Amy’s in New York visiting her daughter and Mark’s already in Vegas. Do you want them breathing down your neck again? You know they hate it when anything takes the focus off our music.”
Sully shrugs, not caring about those people. I look between them confused.
Charlotte pats my arm. My expression must give away how lost I am. “Amy is our PR rep, and Mark’s our tour manager. They’re not fans ofSully’s habit of slacking off or disappearing.” She narrows her eyes at him. But he leans back in his seat, unbothered, with his hands tucked behind his head.
“Don’t know why they always care what I’m doing. It’s not like I’m destroying hotel rooms or passing out in clubs.”
“But your cold attitude gives our band a bad rap. Fans talk and—”
“I don’t care about their opinions and neither should you.” He rubs the back of his neck like he’s had this fight before. “My private life is just that…private.”
Charlotte wrinkles her nose like something smells foul but drops the subject. She grumbles something in German and drums her slender fingers on her thigh. She tsks and grabs my hand, inspecting my fingernails. They’re not polished and a couple of the tips are chipped, and based on her frown, she’s upset about my lack of self-care. “We’re getting manicures before soundcheck.”
“Okay.” I glance at her hand, and her nails are perfectly polished a fiery red. I’m not going to argue.
I glance nervously at Sully. He smirks. “Looks like you’re part of the family now.”
9
TheLasVegasStripbelow us is like seeing the world on a single street. Sully sits next to me with his hand pressing into my thigh. I’m too aware of him. But I ignore the pings between my thighs. I’m not the type of girl who publicly makes out with a guy, let alone does anything more than PG-13 with other people on the plane.
Sully envelops my hand in his as the limo speeds down the freeway toward our hotel. He taps on Charlotte’s foot with his to gain her attention. She lifts her head from Ben’s shoulder, watching us curiously.
“Can you do me a favor?” Sully sets our entangled hands on his thigh. I try not to focus on how perfectly our fingers lock together.
Charlotte puckers her lips, spinning her wedding ring around her finger. “Depends on what it is.”
“Could you please take Veronica shopping? We didn’t have time to stop by her place for her to pack anything.”
I chew on my inner cheek, avoiding Charlotte’s searching gaze. Does she think I’m trashy for jumping on a plane without a change of clothes? She probably already hates me.
Charlotte surprises me by leaning forward and slapping Sully’s leg. “Shame on you for dragging this poor girl all the way here without necessities. You’re lucky we already planned on getting manicures, so stopping by a few shops won’t be a bother.” Her tone is clipped, but there’s a smile playing on her lips. I think she’s toying with him.
He nods. “Thanks.”
Charlotte took me to her favorite shops to buy some jeans, a cute concert dress, shoes, and underwear. She insisted on me getting this fire-red bra that she claimed made me look like a sex goddess. I also bought a few Vegas shirts, one being extra baggy and long so I can wear it to bed. We then stopped by a Walgreens for everything else essential.
She follows me into the hotel suite so I can drop off my new things. Sully’s in the room, strumming his guitar. He flinches when Charlotte barrels her way in, ditching the bags on the king-sized bed, and grabs my arm to tow me away again.
“You’ll have all night with him. Right now you’re mine,” she says.
Sully mouths, “sorry,” and smiles.
All I can do is go along with her or be dragged.
We settle into comfy white chairs at the nail salon. While our nails are being filed, clipped, and polished, Charlotte gives me this cold hard look and says, “Should I be worried about you and Sully?”
