The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(196)

I turn my back on them and swim over to the far edge of the pool, not wanting to hop out and face Walsh while I’m still sporting a semi. Once I grab a towel from the hotel rack, I tie it around my waist and walk over to where Mel is gathering her possessions and Walsh is looking on like a father trying to be tolerant while she does it.

“Tammy’s worried about you, Mel. Maybe you’d better go down and see her?” Even though it’s technically a question, he uses a tone that clearly says it’s not.

She mumbles something like, “Yeah, fine,” and I make a move to follow her when Walsh grabs my arm and says, “Hold up, man. Can we talk for a minute?”

I sigh, knowing what’s coming next, but I give him a nod and touch Mel on the shoulder. “Hey,” I say quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

As she looks at me, I can see something that wasn’t there a few minutes ago—doubt. “Sure,” she answers, her eyes sliding away from mine. And then she’s gone.



In the twenty years I’ve known Walsh, he has never once been the responsible one. Never. When we ditched school, I made the phony calls to the attendance line. When we partied, I figured out how to get home. When we were offered our first recording contract, I found a manager and an attorney to ink the deal. And if I wasn’t there to handle it for Walsh, Tammy was. It’s the way the three of us have operated for more than a decade, and I might never get used to the Walsh who is emerging post-rehab.

After Mel has gone through the door to the stairwell, I turn to look at my lifelong friend, who is appraising me like—well, like he just caught me attempting to fuck his little sister.

“Well, that was awkward,” he states.

I give him a one-sided lip snarl. “No one invited you to interrupt, man.”

He scratches his head and looks somewhat sheepish. “Look, I, uh, didn’t mean to embarrass you two, but Tammy asked me to come look for Mel. She had a feeling you might be up here together, although I don’t think she was expecting things to have gotten quite that far.”

I whip off the towel around my waist, my hard-on definitely killed now, and start rubbing at my chest and arms to warm up.

“What the hell did you want to talk to me about, Walsh?” I’m getting pissed quickly here. Tammy has sent Walsh to do her dirty work and he doesn’t even realize it.

“Sit down, man.” He gestures to the nearby table and chairs on the pool deck.

I sit, but not happily, and I convey that to him in every move I make.

“Look.” He starts. “Tammy is all kinds of freaked out about you and Mel being buddies or whatever you’re calling it at this point.”

“And I care about this why?”

“Christ, Joss! What is your deal with Tammy these days? It’s like anything she says or does pisses you off. I feel like I spend all damn day tiptoeing around the two of you and whatever fucking axe you’ve got to grind.”

I sigh and run my finger along the glass top of the table, noticing how the drops of water from my arms have smeared across the surface, kind of like how my night with Tammy has smeared across the surface of my life.

“I don’t have any deal with Tammy,” I snap back. “I just don’t like being told who I can and can’t see. Tammy may be the boss of you, but she’s not my girlfriend or mother or sister. I don’t do her bidding, and she’d be smart to remember that.”

Walsh clears his throat. There are some guys who’d kick your ass if you talked about their fiancées that way, but I know Walsh isn’t one of them, so I push it farther than is kind.

“Look, Joss, I’m not here only because Tammy’s worried. I happen to agree with her on this one.” He holds up a hand, telling me to wait as I open my mouth to protest. “I’ve known Mel since she was ten years old, man. She’s like a little sister to me, and I care about her being happy. You’re my best friend, and as much as I want you to be happy too, I don’t think you’re the right thing for Mel.

“She’s not like us, man,” he continues. “She’s got this, I don’t know, this special way about her. She’s an artist, and she’s sort of a new soul or something, you know? You and me and Tammy, we’ve been around this whole life a few times. We’ve seen it and felt it all before, but Mel, she’s just discovering.”

I watch him, amazed that he really does seem to understand her. He sees her. He gets her, and in some ways it makes me sad. I thought I was the only one to see those things. I thought if I realized she was special, it meant I was special too, and now I see I’m one of many.

“In all the years I’ve known you, Joss, you’ve never stayed with one woman for more than a few weeks. You’re not a dog like Mike, but you’re also not the settling down kind. I’m worried you’ll hurt Mel, even if you don’t mean to.”

I ponder the tabletop some more before I finally look up at him. While I want to be the good guy, the guy who says, “Yeah, I hear you and I respect that you’re looking out for your future sister-in-law,” I can’t be. I’m already in too deep. I deserve my turn, dammit. I get to be happy too. So instead, I stand up, looking down at him, fisting and unfisting one hand at my side while the other holds the towel.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, man. I’m the first to admit that I’ve never stuck around with any one woman very long. I’ve never met one worth sticking to. But Mel might be that woman, and I’m not going to miss the chance to find out because you and Tammy are in overprotective-parent mode. Mel’s an adult. She can decide who she wants to see and when. I can promise you I’ll respect her, and I can promise you I won’t do anything to hurt her if I can help it. Other than that, it’s between me and Mel.”





Chapter Eighteen

Mel



I’ve been avoiding Joss for three days now. Through two more concerts, twenty hours of bus rides, two nights in hotels, and another of the band’s well-known green room post-show parties. He hasn’t made it easy, finding ways to approach me in dark hallways, empty rooms, and deserted hotel gyms. We both have a propensity to exercise late at night, and he’s used that to any advantage he could, which is quite a bit. There’s nothing to equal the sight of Joss Jamison shirtless running full-out on a treadmill. The term golden boy was invented for him. It’s like he was blessed with every attractive genetic trait a man could have.

We are now eight days into the tour and heading for Utah, or Colorado—I’ve actually lost track. I can see why they tell the guys what city they’re in every night before they go out on stage. We’re on a tight schedule tonight, so we all have to stay on the bus and sleep in the bunks. There are two really small bedrooms. Of course, Tammy and Walsh have one, Joss has the other, and Mike and Colin are relegated to the bunks in the hallway. I was surprised that neither one of them complained about that. Apparently, no matter how much Mike bitches that Joss is the king of the castle, deep down even he accepts Joss’s rule.

Meanwhile, the rest of us—really just me and the security guy—who don’t have a hotel room for the night, also get to sleep in small bunks that are built into the sides of the bus. They each have a curtain over them, and as long as you’re not claustrophobic, they’re not so bad. I like to pretend I’m a vampire and the bunks are the coffins. It works for me.

I’ve been on my laptop all evening editing photos, getting rid of shots that are unusable, and trying to get a sense of the storyline I want to create. It’s starting to come together piece by piece, and I have to say, I think it’s going to be a winner. The guys are so magnetic, and it really comes through in pictures. I don’t think they realize that even when they’re not performing they have this energy about them. It draws the eye and makes everyone who’s around focus on them. Even Colin, easily the least intense of the guys—with or without the chemical mellowing agents—has a certain something about him that is captivating. The bottom line is, together they’re pure charisma. The pictures have captured that and it bleeds all over the computer screen every time I look at the shots.

I have frozen the screen on a close-up photo of Joss and I’m studying the planes of his face when a low, rough voice says in my ear, “Why sit staring at an imitation when the real thing is right here?”

I swallow hard, my heart fluttering in my chest both at the surprise of Joss and his innuendo-laden words. This is the kind of crap he’s been doing to me all week. Sneaking up and trying to gain the advantage. I feel a little like a bird that’s been flushed from the undergrowth and is now being scoped by the hunter and his rifle as I frantically try to fly out of range. The only problem is I can’t fly off into the wide blue yonder. I’m trapped in a cage and the hunter’s right there with me.

“What do you need, Joss?” I ask in as neutral a tone as I can muster.

He sits down in the seat across from me, looking at me without saying anything for a few beats. “You’re avoiding me, Mel.”

I’m stunned by his bluntness. He hasn’t tried this tactic yet. There’s been flirting, small talk, work talk, but never has he tried to address the situation head-on.