“What do you mean?” he questions, not looking up from what he’s doing.
“I just wanted to know how you’re gonna film it, that’s all,” I say, trying to sound casual. Not casual enough, I think, as Marcus looks up at me curiously.
“Ace, you never ask about anything I’m doing. All you do is argue with me when we’re shooting if you don’t like it. What gives, bro?”
The man’s got a point. Aw, fuck it. “Look, I just want to know what direction you’re heading with the video…I think the song’s got potential to go number one.”
“Man, all your songs end up at number one. But don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re taking an interest for once. I usually get the feeling you don’t give a shit one way or the other,” he says perceptively. Damn, I feel bad because obviously he takes pride in what he does the same way I do with my music, and it sucks that I’ve been such an ass about it.
“Sorry, bro. I’ll try and do better,” I say sincerely. It’s how my Momma taught me to apologize a long time ago. She always told me to man up and say I’m sorry, only promising to do better if I was serious about it. And I am. “So how’s this gonna go down?”
“Well now, that’s for me to know and you to find out.” He gives me a wink before abruptly picking up his camera gear and walking out the door. That fucker. I had it coming though so I can’t be mad at him. But here I am, turning over a new leaf and shit, and he just picked up that big ‘ol leaf and slapped me across the face with it.
Before I’m able to chase him down and butter him up to get the intel I want, Jay calls out that I’m on in five. Time to do my thing.
Chapter 9
Taryn
Goodnight Peaches.
After reading Trace’s text, I clutch the phone and fall onto my bed in sheer bliss. What has he done to me? Every time we talk or text, I seem to be falling a little more, but I have to keep reminding myself that relationships in this industry don’t work out. Not to mention, we have nothing in common. Of course, if that were true, we wouldn’t still be talking. Shit—I hate this devil and angel thing that happens after every time we hang up.
I put on my pink flannel pants with my Texans t-shirt. Walking out to the lounge area of the bus, I curl up under a blanket and turn on the television. Thankfully, my mom flew out to LA tonight so I don’t have any promotional obligations or run-throughs for radio interviews. Even after endless practices, she still insists on sitting next to me during every call-in to make sure I answer just the way we rehearsed. With her gone, it’s nice to have some peace and quiet for once.
I press ‘play’ on the Blu-ray to watch the latest romantic comedy, one that hasn’t even been released in theaters yet. One of the benefits of being with Backlash is that I often score advance copies of movies, which is great and all, but if it means I don’t have them controlling everything else in my life, I’d willingly give up whatever perks they provide.
Just as the movie is about to start, I hear the driver’s deep New York-accented voice tell me that we’re stopping for gas. Minutes later, we pull to a stop and I hear the band pouring out of their bus, probably on their way to invade the convenience store. Based on the loud music and laughter, I think it’s safe to say that the party has already started. Heck, I’ll bet the alcohol started pouring the minute we pulled out of Louisville. Rolling my eyes, I resume my movie-watching but a loud knock interrupts me once again.
“Come in,” I call out and Ryder stumbles through the door, his hair falling over his glassy eyes.
“Hey, doll,” he slurs. I sigh, pushing ‘pause’ on my movie.
“How much have you had?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Just a few. We’re celebrating our time off.” He tumbles down on the sofa and his shoulder nudges mine a bit. I can already smell the whiskey on his breath, not to mention the cigarettes. “You should come and join us. You never hang with us,” he whines, placing his hand on my legs.
I pull my legs a little closer to me. “I’m exhausted, Ryder. My body aches, my throat is raw, and the last thing I need is to be inside a bus filled with smoke. Plus, you guys might get a break, but I still have to work, remember?”
He quirks one caramel-colored eye my way before he says, “You need to have fun, Taryn. The evil witch has vanished back to silicone town to do…well, whatever it is she does when you’re not around. Come relax with us.” He rises unsteadily and grabs my hand.
Last year I would have jumped at the chance, but I really need this downtime. In addition to being completely worn out from the tour, my stomach has been tied in knots since I found out that I’ll be seeing Trace again—on a video set.
“Sorry, Ryder, Dorothy needs to stay in tonight,” I say, slowly sliding my hand from his. “Please give Scarecrow and the Tin Man my apologies.”
“So does that make me the cowardly lion?” he questions. Only when my mother is around, I think.
“No, you can be my Toto,” I say and his boisterous laugh fills the room. Thoughts of all the time we’ve spent together over the past two years flood my mind. Ryder has been my rock and I’m not sure I would’ve made it through without him, especially since his presence seems to keep my mom in check. I’m also not blind to the fact that any girl would be lucky to be with Ryder. He’s gorgeous and sweet and oozes southern charm by the bucketloads.
“I’ll be your Toto if it means I’m always by your side,” he replies, his voice suddenly soft and sultry. I immediately remember why I’ve been distancing myself from him lately—the last thing I want is to give him the wrong idea. “Why don’t I stay here and watch the movie with you.” He follows up his statement by sitting back down next to me, taking the blanket off my legs, and pulling it over his own.
Outside the bus, I hear a group of high-pitched voices, giggling and talking, who I predict have joined us for the ride. “I think there are some girls calling your name,” I say in hopes that he’ll decide to join them.
“You’re the only girl calling my name,” he responds, his eyes pleading with mine. As he inches closer and closer, my body switches into defense mode. Shit, it’s too late. I can feel the desire radiating from him, and I’ve got to put the brakes on this—now.
“You’ll always be like my brother, Ryder, you know that.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he slowly blinks his eyes closed and guilt consumes me, knowing I just hurt him. He removes the blanket and stands up before replacing it on my lap. He then leans forward, his mouth descending toward me, and my heart races. Our mouths are mere inches away from one another when he slowly licks across his top lip. I brace myself, not knowing how to react but instinctively closing my eyes, when I feel his wet lips give me a chaste kiss on the outside corner of my mouth. “Good night, sister,” he whispers in my ear and before I can think straight, he’s gone.
Damn, what was that all about? I’m about to stand up and plead with him to not ruin our friendship when I hear him yell from the open doorway, “Hold up, Jack, how many girls did you wrangle up for us tonight?”
A potent mixture of guilt and anger rages through me. What exactly does he want? I don’t even think he knows. Was he just trying to get some sort of rise out of me? Ugh, I hate him for attempting to alter our relationship—what was wrong with the way it was?
I release a breath when I hear the driver’s voice come across the intercom, informing me that we’re about to hit the road again. If there had been any confusion at all about my feelings toward Ryder, the grateful sensation that washes over me when we pull away—knowing that he’s in another bus for the night—should tell me all I need to know.
The next morning, the buses pull into a large, dusty, and mostly empty parking lot where they’ll remain while we’re in LA. I step out into the bright sun, squinting my eyes before digging in my purse for my sunglasses. Once the dark lenses are covering my eyes, I walk toward the waiting limos. As I pass the band’s bus, the guys begin to emerge, trailed by a slew of girls wearing miniskirts and tight tank tops, whose faces are smeared with makeup.
One of the tagalongs is clinging to Ryder and his eyes find mine before he whispers something in her ear. Now I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. Annoyed with whatever game he’s playing, I roll my hidden eyes and duck into my limo. As my luggage is being loaded, I can’t help but notice the girl get into the same car as Ryder. Then again, where else would she go, since we’re in the middle of freaking nowhere?
An hour later, I’m situated on the record label’s plane, enjoying my latte and a bagel, which I would never be able to have when my mom’s around. As I reach for it, I spot a letter on the table that I didn’t notice before. When I see my name scratched across the envelope in familiar writing, I grab it and tear it open.
Hope you have a safe flight, Peaches. I’ll be seeing you soon.
Trace
Sighing, I read it three or four more times before I catch the flight attendant staring at me. I want to ask her twenty questions…when he left it, where he usually sits, what does he drink? But I don’t ask any of them, wanting to discover the answers for myself.