Cardinal (21 page)

“Hey.”

I face him. “What’s up?”

“Do you really want to watch Ariel?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

He looks confused. “Isn’t there anything else
you’d rather do?”

“Like what?” I know this scene is nothing new
to him, but it’s shiny and sparkly to me. “I’ve never seen her perform before. I’ve
also never been in a private suite. It sounds like fun.”

Latson looks disappointed, then shakes the
expression away. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He starts to walk. “Sometimes I
forget our experiences are different. Just because you’re on tour doesn’t mean
you’ve seen it all.”

We make it out of the backstage area and into
the hallway I took from the dressing room. We look left and right until we see
Dean waving to us from an elevator. Once we make it inside, Latson’s fingers
tighten around mine.

“So, what’d you think?” Dean turns toward
Latson. “Did you notice we changed the end of “Over-Exposed”?”

“I did,” he says. “I know that transition was bothering
you. The show was epic, man. A great start.”

“I thought so, too.” Dean runs his hand through
his hair and gives Latson a resigned smile. “It felt like Vegas. Remember?”

Latson’s eyes go blank for a second. If I
didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t have noticed. He quickly adjusts his
features and nods. “Yeah. I remember.”

The elevator stops and we exit. I let Dean get
a few steps ahead of us before I ask Latson, “What happened in Vegas?”

“We opened our first tour there. It was Sacred
Sin’s first concert as a headliner.”

Mentally, I frown. I understand why Dean would
compare his first concert with the Union to his first with Sin, but didn’t he realize
it would bother Latson?  I try to lighten things up. “I bet it was a rush,” I
say and then pull on Latson’s hand. He leans over. “But nothing compared to
tonight,” I whisper. “Hands down, Vegas blows L.A. out of the water.”

He kisses me.

When we arrive at the suite, Roxanne, Drew, and
Paul are already congregated by a small bar just off the entrance. The room is
filled with people I don’t know, some of whom are already seated outside on the
suite’s private balcony. The place resembles a tiny apartment, with a bathroom,
the wet bar, and a bunch of overstuffed furniture. A flat screen mounted from
the ceiling in one corner broadcasts the empty stage below, and a variety of
hors d’oeuvres are set out on a small dining table.

“There they are!” Paul gets loud. “Get your
asses over here and do a shot with us.” He hands Dean a glass filled with amber
liquid, then me, and then Latson. “Gunnar!  How in the hell are ya?” Paul
thumps Latson on the back. Then, he holds up his glass and we all follow suit. “To
the Renegade tour!  May the groupies be hot, Betty be swift, and the music
rock!”

“Hear!  Hear!”  Glasses clink together.

I sniff my shot before I send it down my throat.
It smells like whiskey; I bet it’s a Three Wise Men. I toss it back and grimace.
Yep. I was right.

I hand my glass back to the bartender. “Who’s
Betty?” I ask no one in particular.

“The tour bus.” Latson stares at his empty
glass. “We always named them Betty.”

Jesus. Couldn’t they have come up with another
name?

“Let’s go get seats,” I suggest and pull on his
arm. “I’d rather sit out on the balcony than in here.”

“Gunnar?  Is that you?”

A man dressed in a button down and jeans
approaches. His dirty blonde hair is styled, and he flashes a perfect white
smile.

“Caleb,” Latson says. I can sense the
irritation in his tone, and, judging by the size of the Rolex on Caleb’s wrist,
I assume he’s with the record label.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head in
disbelief. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“I thought you fell off the face of the earth.”

“Nah,” Latson gets sarcastic. “I just disappeared
from music.”

Caleb’s smile disappears. “You know my hands
were tied.”

“Yep. That’s what you said two years ago.” Latson
sets his shot glass down on the bar and pushes it forward with two fingers. “It’s
good to know you’re sticking with the same story.”

The record exec looks uncomfortable as Latson
turns to me. “Let’s find those seats you wanted.” He sets his hand against my
back and starts to usher me toward the balcony.

“Jen Elliott, right?”

I give Caleb a questioning look. “Yes?”

“I caught your set. Dean was smart to bring you
aboard. I look forward to working with you.”

I cross my arms. “And you are?”

“Oh, forgive me.” He plasters on a smile and
extends his hand. “Caleb Jackson. I work for Snare Records.”

I shake his hand to be polite. “I thought Dean
hadn’t signed with a label.”

“He hasn’t. Not yet. But we’re interested. If
the tour goes well, I think we can offer him a pretty sweet deal.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say. “I’m
just here to play.”

Caleb tilts his head toward me. “I like your
attitude.”

Latson presses his hand firmly against my back to
get me moving and I nod goodbye to Caleb. As we walk toward the sliding doors
that lead to the seating, Latson says, “If Dean signs with that asshole I’ll
kill him.”

I glance back at Caleb who’s now talking with
Roxanne. “Why?”

Latson’s hard eyes meet mine. “Caleb is Levi’s
brother.”

Lying on my side, I prop my head against my
hand and stare at Latson. He’s sleeping on his back with the starchy white
hotel sheets pushed to his waist. My eyes roam upward, over his bare chest, his
face, and his arm that’s slung over his head against the pillow. He looks
peaceful and content, a far cry from what he was last night. I thought after we
left the concert and got away from the record people he would relax. He didn’t.
He seemed just as stressed during Ariel’s after party.

I wanted to talk about what was bothering him,
but the Ritz wasn’t the place. The atmosphere was too loud and too busy; there
were people everywhere. Dancers, friends, band members, crew, roadies, and, of
course, Heidi. Avoiding her death stare was impossible whenever she was in the
same room. When we left the party and got back to my hotel, I could tell how
tense Latson was by the way he kissed me and the way his hands roamed my skin. He
was rough and demanding, which I didn’t mind because I’ve missed him and I
wanted him as much as he wanted me. As time passed, the more tender he became. Before
we fell asleep he was back to the sweet, teasing, unhurried Latson I remember.

Without warning, his eyes open and he blinks a
few times. “Hey.” He starts to smile but ends up covering a yawn. “I felt you
staring.”

“You did?  How?”

“It’s a side effect of living with a kid.” He
reaches for me and I slide over, winding myself around his body. “If I’m asleep
and Oliver’s awake, he’ll stare at me until I wake up, too. It’s like a sixth
sense.”

I remember staring at my sleeping parents when
I was young, especially around the holidays. “I used to do that. My brothers
would always send me into our parent’s bedroom because I was the youngest. I
finally put a stop to it when I was twelve. I mean, Pete was eighteen for
crying out loud.”

Latson laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can imagine your little determined face.”

“Well …”  I drift off. “My brothers had to grow
up sometime. I know they were excited about Christmas morning, but come on.”

Latson squeezes me in a one-armed hug. “I
started to get excited about Christmas again after my sister died. I wanted to
make the first one special for O. Now, I get just as excited as he does. There’s
something to be said for playing the man in red.”

I never thought about it that way before. I’ve
never been around a kid to surprise on Christmas, and my eyes light up. “Can I
help this year?  I can be an elf.”

He scrutinizes me. “Hmmm. You’re a little tall
and your ears aren’t very pointy. I guess it depends on how you look in green
tights.”

I shove his chest. “You know I can totally rock
green tights.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me. “I’m sure
you can.”

When he settles back against the pillow, I snuggle
closer to his side. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood. I don’t like it when
you’re grumpy.”

He exhales with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to
see any of those people last night. I only wanted to spend time with you.”

My face falls. I should have realized the environment
would be difficult for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you where you
didn’t want to go.”

He runs the tips of his fingers up and down my
back. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have let things get to me. Last night was
your
night.”

I give him a tiny smile, and he pushes my hair
behind my ear. “So. You’ve been christened. First show, first suite, first
after party. You’re officially a rock star.”

I laugh. I’m not, but I felt like one. “You
were right. Nothing compares to performing. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

He shakes his head. “You would have done it
regardless. Pete or Jules would have convinced you. Or your parents. Have you
talked to them?  What do they think?”

“They sounded thrilled over the phone. They’re
planning to come to the last show, since the tour ends in Detroit. You should
come, too, and meet them.”

Latson’s brow jumps. “You want me to meet your
parents?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve already met your dad.”

He’s silent as he studies me.

“What?”

“I’m a tattooed ex-musician raising his nephew.
What are they going to think?”

“They’re going to think you’re stepping in for
the father Oliver never had.” I push my body up and partially over him, so
we’re face to face. “They’re also going to realize you employ my brother, who
makes a decent living. I guarantee they’re going to think I’m happy and you’re
amazing.”

A slow smile spreads across his lips before
they’re inches from mine. “In that case,” he kisses me, “I’ll definitely meet
your parents.”

“You will?” I whisper. The thought gives me
butterflies. “I guess this means we’re serious, then.”

“Were we ever not?” His hands slide down my
back and find the bottom of my shirt. They slip underneath and start to trace
my spine. “The minute I saw you dancing I was serious about you.”

“No.” I smirk. “You were horny. There’s a
difference.”

He laughs. “Is that why you think I asked you
to work for me?”

“No. You needed me because I have mad
bartending skills.”

His eyes light up and he shakes his head no. My
mouth falls open. “I do have mad bartending skills!”

“You do. But my real motivation …”  He stops
following my spine and removes his hands from beneath my shirt. He runs them up
into my hair, cradling the back of my head. “My real reason was to get close to
you. I had to find a way to spend time with you, to get to know you.”

I study his chocolate brown eyes and my heart
pounds. “Let me guess. Next you’re going to tell me you lost Oliver at the
aquarium on purpose.”

“Hell, no. Running into you there was a
coincidence. A very lucky coincidence.”

“You’re telling me,” I say. “I think O stole my
heart the minute I heard his little voice. If he had asked the wrong person for
help …”

I shudder at the thought before Latson pulls me
close. “I think fate stepped in that day.”

“Or maybe it was Audrey.”

I hadn’t thought of the possibility until now,
and Latson’s expression softens. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

I smile before his lips gently brush over mine.
Before we can take things further, my phone sounds with a reminder.

“Ugh,” I groan. “I have to get moving.”

“What’s on the schedule for today?”

I roll off him and on to my back, reaching for
my cell. “Brunch with Roxanne. She wanted to get together after the first show
to discuss any changes.”

“Are you meeting anyone else?”

I silence the reminder. “The guys will be there.
Why?”

“Not Caleb?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. Last night was the
first time I’d ever heard of him.” I sit up and set my phone back on the table
next to Oliver’s drawing. “He really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?”

Latson scrubs his face with the palm of his
hand. “Yeah. He does.”

I pull my legs beneath me and adjust my
expression, to let him know I’m waiting for an explanation. He rolls his eyes.

“I told you Caleb is Levi’s brother.”

“So, he’s guilty by association?”

He sighs. “He’s also the record exec who had
the final say in dropping my band from the label. He chose to believe the tabloids
and his asshole brother instead of me.”

I vaguely remember some of the headlines I read
during my Google search. “How did the press get wind of the situation anyway?”

“Levi. He hates me just as much as I hate him. He
was there when I –” Latson catches himself, his mouth forming a thin line. “Levi
twisted the truth and took it to people who would listen. Then, my dad got
involved and wanted custody of Oliver.” Latson grimaces. “So, yes. Caleb
getting under my skin is an understatement. He ended my career.”

The more I learn about Latson’s past the more I
think Audrey ended his career. Everything he’s dealt with has stemmed from her
decisions. I keep my mouth shut, though. Bad mouthing his dead sister is
probably not the best idea.

Instead, I crawl over to his side and hover
above him. “People are shitty and I hate that you’ve been hurt.”

“I hate that we’re talking about this.” He sits
up straight and reaches for me. “I have one more night with you. Let’s not ruin
it by talking about my past.”

I agree and end up in his lap. “No parties
after the show tonight either,” I add. “Just us.”

He smiles. “Just us. On a date.”

I shoot him a curious look.

“I thought we could sight-see, if you’re up for
it,” he says. “How much of L.A. have you visited since you’ve been out here?”

“Lemme think.” I set my finger against my chin
in pretend thought. “Barely any.”

“Good. After you play we’re headed to see the
Hollywood sign.”

“Yeah?” I can’t stop my grin.

“And then we can go wherever we want. The
Hollywood Walk of Fame is close. I’d take you shopping on Rodeo Drive, but I
think most stores will be closed by then.”

Talk about expensive. “I don’t need anything
from Rodeo Drive.” I set my hand against Latson’s cheek. “I have everything I need
right here.”

He lowers his gaze to my mouth. “Where have you
been all my life?”

“Where have you been all of mine?”

He gives me my favorite lopsided dimple smile
before kissing me senseless. We may only have the next twenty-four hours
together, but we’re going to make them count.

~~~~

“Let me help you with that, darlin’.”

“Thanks, Beau.”

I hand our driver my guitar case as I haul
myself up the steps of the tour bus. I keep my acoustic with me between cities
because it gives me something to do besides watch movies and sleep.

“Y’all alone?  Where are the boys?”

“They’re on their way. You know how it is.”

The fifty-nine-year-old ex-bull rider scowls at
me. “If I told you once I told you a thousand times. Stop walkin’ your tail out
to the bus in the dark after shows. You hear me?  It’s not safe.”

I reach up and playfully flick the brim of his
Stetson. Beau has become a surrogate father of sorts. “You want to talk about
safe?  How can you watch the road wearing this thing?  I can barely see your
eyes.”

“Are you sassin’ me?”

“Don’t I always?”

He hands me my guitar case with an exasperated sigh,
and I grin. “Frowning like that with give you wrinkles,” I warn him. “You need
to keep that face pretty for the ladies.”

He chuckles. “There’s only one lady I’m
interested in seein’ and she’s at our next stop.”

“Then I’ll go get comfortable.” I adjust my
backpack on my shoulder. “We can’t be late for your date in Dallas.”

He winks at me before I wander back to my bunk.
The bus sleeps eight, and my “room” is below Roxanne’s. When I first boarded
the tour bus in L.A., my immediate thought was it looked like a motorhome on
steroids. The front lounge holds opposing couches, a small table, a mounted
flat screen, and a kitchenette. Our bunks are located in the middle of the bus,
and another small lounge, along with the bathroom, resides in the back.

Pulling the curtain to my bunk aside, I toss my
things on my bed. It’s hard to believe I left Los Angeles three weeks ago. We
just played Denver, and in an hour we’ll be headed south to Texas. Time is
flying, but I’m enjoying it. My only regret is I haven’t seen Latson since the
first show. We talk daily, and I’ve been waiting for him to surprise me again. I
have to remind myself that he said his visits would be few and far between.

Before I get comfy in my sweats for the long ride,
I grab my phone and send him a message:
Bye bye Rocky Mountain High. Hello
Lone Star State.

He responds quickly.
Say hi to the
Cowboys cheerleaders for me ;)

I scoff.
In your dreams.

Footsteps and greetings to Beau at the front of
the bus make me look up. The guys are here.

“I need a beer,” Drew says, stopping at the
mini fridge. He opens the door and pulls out a Miller Light.

“Me, too,” Paul says as he plops down on the
couch. Dean joins him and adds, “Me, three.”

“Jen?” Drew holds the refrigerator door open. “You
want one?”

“Sure,” I say and catch the can Drew tosses me.
It’s Angry Orchard, my new favorite. “Thanks.”

As quickly as Paul sat, he stands and looks
around. “Where’s the remote?  I know there’s a game happening somewhere.”

Dean pulls the control from beneath his butt
and turns on the TV. It looks like it’s going to be another typical night on
the bus. Beer and baseball until everyone gets tired and crawls into their
bunks. Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad the guys save the parties for hotels,
when we stay a few nights in one city.