Collaboration (12 page)

“Out!” I yell. “Get the fuck out, Dre! You know I don’t want anyone in my bed except me!”

He better be glad I’m talking to Taryn or I would waylay his drunk ass. I hear a chorus of groans and wait while they make their way out of my room. I make myself comfortable in a plush armchair before unmuting the phone.

“Sorry about that, it’s just you and me now.”

“What about Dre?” she asks.

“He’ll make it without me,” I say, thinking there will never be a truer statement. “Now please tell me what I said that was so damn funny before I keep my sexy southern accent to myself from now on.”

She laughs before hesitantly saying, “Well…um…I’m guessing you meant that you were going to sleep, but ‘hit the hay’ has a few other meanings, one of which means that you’re...a…well, not you, but that…”

Listening to her get all flustered is fun, but I’m dying to know what she’s going to say and I’m about five seconds from looking it up on my iPad. “Spit it out, Taryn,” I encourage.

“Okay, fine,” she says, sounding as if she’s steeling herself to say the words. So fuckin’ cute.

“It can also mean when
someone
is taking care of themselves. You know, jacking off?” she asks, and I laugh for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. And what
else
does it mean?” This should be good.

“Well, where I’m from, it also means to have sex with a country girl,” she says and then rushes on, “although I didn’t figure there were any of those hanging around your hotel room.”

“No, but I can think of one I wish was here,” I murmur. When she doesn’t respond immediately, I wonder if I’ve made her uncomfortable. But I don’t regret what I said because I
do
wish she was here right now.

We continue talking and finally hang up when we both decide that we’d better get some sleep before the sun rises, at which point there are places to go and people to see. I somehow managed to keep my increasingly sexually-oriented thoughts to myself. Despite our often flirty exchanges, I have no idea if Taryn would be interested in actually pursuing anything physical with me. I could tell I got her hot and bothered the few times we were together in LA, but attraction and action are worlds apart. And speaking of which, I need to keep reminding myself just how different ours really are.

***

For the past month I’ve been jetting from one city to another, tired but happy. When I’m not promoting and performing, I find myself checking my phone like a crackhead waiting on their dealer to call. I have no idea when I’ll see Taryn next, but to my surprise, I like this getting-to-know-each-other thing we’ve got going on.

While sitting in the green room, waiting on the Denver show to start, I laugh to myself when I recall the texts we exchanged yesterday. Between rehearsals and our concerts, she and I played a little game of “Two Truths and a Lie.”

Taryn: You know how to play, right?

Me: Yeah, babe, believe it or not, I did go to middle school ;)

Taryn: You first then, smartass.

Me: I play three instruments.

Taryn: A kazoo totally does NOT count.

Me: Who’s the smartass now? ;)

Taryn: You got me there. Truth?

Me: Yup, piano, drums, and harmonica, which totally does count

Taryn: Keep talkin…

Me: The image I portray is not who I really am.

Taryn: Truth, but I already knew that.

Me: I have ten brothers and sisters.

Taryn: Cop out. You’ve mentioned before that you’re an only child, just like me.

Our conversation was cut off by the untimely arrival of her mother, right when she was trying to justify
her
ability to play three instruments. I jokingly told her that acoustic, bass, and electric guitar only count as one.

I’m instantly pulled back to the present when Jay rushes in the room and begins passing out schedules for the next two weeks, which no doubt are as hectic as the last two.

“Hey, listen up ya’ll noisy motherfuckers,” he says, trying to get everyone’s attention. “You might wanna read this so you’ll know when to tell your families you’ll be home next weekend.”

I laugh out loud, saying, “Hey Dre, can you tell your dad we’ll be off in case he wants to have a little family reunion or somethin’?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Ace,” he says with a smirk.

Jay ignores us and starts yammering on about dates and times and who-the-hell-knows-what, but I tune him out when I look at the calendar and notice that by ‘home’ he meant we’re headed back to Los Angeles. “Why LA?” I interrupt.

“If you’d get those baby blues out of the clouds, you’d know that you’ve got a video to film, followed by a release party the label is hosting for you and farm girl.”

“Yee-haw!” shouts Xavier and I fight the urge to cut him a dirty look. “We gonna have us a hoedown.”

“Ah yeah,” chimes in Quinton, “I’m looking forward to gettin’ down with some hos.”

“Dude, you get down with hos every night. It ain’t like you gonna wait ‘til we get back to La-La Land,” says Marcus.

“You right about that,” Q says, “but there’s nothin’ like LA hos, right, X?”

“I know that’s right,” Xavier replies.

Jay shoots everyone scathing looks before saying, “If you all are done talking with your dicks, then we’ve gotta show to put on. So get out of here and do what you get paid entirely too many Benjamins to do.”

Lots of grumbling is heard as everyone starts to head out of the green room. I catch sight of Marcus messing around with his camera equipment and ask, “So what’s the deal with the video?”

“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 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 that 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 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 with the knowledge that 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 dip 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 freakin’ nowhere?