Wicked Innocence (6 page)

Sax

I tapped my fingers against my leg as I listened to her sing. She was good—really good. Nearly two weeks of intensive training, and she was ready.
We
were ready.

“Sounding awesome, Micah,” Harry said, slapping her on the back of the shoulder.

Her face lit up at the compliment, her bright green eyes sparkling as she mumbled a
thanks
. She wrapped one arm around her waist and slouched against the wall, as if she had no idea how fucking stunning she was. Did she really not understand what she did to probably every guy she made contact with? She was a walking, talking wet dream. The sight of her drove me insane, especially when she dressed like she was tonight: tight skirt, low-cut top, long, dark hair floating around her shoulders.

“Sax?”

I jumped. “Sorry, what?” I mumbled, my face flushing.

Harry shook his head, a smirk on his lips as he glanced from Micah to me. Great. Just what I needed: Harry thinking he’d stumbled onto something.

“I just asked what time we’re hitting the road tomorrow?”

“Early. Gotta get to Little Creek by six, so we’ll need to be on the road by eight. That okay with everyone?” I glanced around.

Everyone nodded.

“Good. Make sure you pack enough to cover the two weeks, because I don’t know if we’ll have access to a laundry or anything along the way.”

“Sure, Dad,” muttered Harry with a roll of his eyes.

“And things like medications and shit,” I added, ignoring his comment. “So I’ll pick you guys up at Harry’s, and then we will swing past your place, okay?” I said, directing my question at Micah.

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Great.” I slapped my leg and stood up. “Then go home and enjoy your last night of freedom for a while.”

***

By ten that evening I was wrecked. Everything was ready to go. I’d emailed all the venues confirming our shows, packed, dropped Broosky over at Mom and Dad’s, and picked up and cleaned the van.

That last job had taken me fucking hours—and it still looked like a piece of shit. But old Betsy would always have a special place in my heart.

I fell into bed, my mind refusing to switch off. Had I forgotten anything? This tour had to go well. This was my chance to prove to everyone—including myself—that I could do this; show them I wasn’t a complete screw-up. I only hoped that Harry would be adult enough to put aside our issues, at least just for the two weeks.

Because the last thing I needed was his fucking bullshit.

Micah

My eyes widened as I watched the old campervan choke its way down the street toward me.
You have got to be kidding me.
That was our bus? It came to an abrupt stop in front of me, a cloud of smoke shooting out from the exhaust pipe.

“And how far is this supposed to get us?” I asked Sax as he got out.

“She’s old and not in great shape, but you’d be surprised how durable she is.” He almost looked insulted. “This thing got me through a few awesome road trips in my time. Besides, you guys aren’t exactly in the position to be forking out for accommodation,” he smirked. “When you book out Oncara Stadium, then we’ll talk.”

I screwed my nose up at him as I stepped up and into the camper. Okay, so inside wasn’t quite as bad. It looked relatively clean—albeit worn and tired.

“Go down the end, and to your right is a room with a double bed. That was my room when I toured with Severed, but being that you’re the only girl, you can have it. I’ll bunk with the guys.”

I slid the door open. A room? I snorted. I’d have to climb over the bed to get in the room. It was literally a bed surrounded by walls.

“Okay, so it’s not the fucking Hilton, but I’m sure you’ll cope,” he said, his tone defensive.

Did I have a choice? I dropped my bag on my bed and walked back out to the living room/kitchenette.

“Is there, uh, a bathroom?” I asked, rubbing my neck. Of all the days to get my period, it had to be today. This was going to be hell.

Sax shook his head. “Well, there is but it doesn’t work. Don’t worry, we pass a lot of gas stations. Anytime you need to stop, just say the word.”

I nodded and slid into the seat closest to me. Why had I thought this was a good idea? Forget the fact that this was an awesome opportunity for my career; I was a seventeen-year-old girl embarking on a road trip with four guys in their mid-twenties. How could that
not
be a recipe for trouble?

My age hadn’t been mentioned since Sax had taken copies of my particulars. I’d spent so long being Micah that it was second nature to me now. It was only situations like this where I remembered how young I really was.

Stop being such a girl. You can take care of yourself. You have for the last three years; why is this any different?

I buckled my seat belt as we took off down the street. Harry was driving, with Liam sitting in the front next to him. Will and Kam—both who I’d had little contact with to date—sat down the back. Sax sat opposite me. His eyes were closed, arms crossed, and his feet stretched out on the seat next to him. I took the moment to study him.

My heart fluttered like a freaking schoolgirl whenever he was within two feet of me—which I suppose was fitting, considering I technically should still have been in school.

His dark, wavy hair looked like it had never met a brush, but it didn’t matter—the bed head suited him. He had three-day stubble going on, which made him look even sexier . . . if that were possible. He wore his usual tee shirt and jeans, which displayed his muscular, athletic frame perfectly.

Wetting my lips, I forced myself to turn away. The last thing I needed was him catching me staring at him. Pulling out my iPod, I slipped in my earphones and hit shuffle. Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the window and let the sounds of the Arctic Monkeys fill my head.

I felt something hit me in the face. Opening my eyes, I reached down and grabbed the crumpled up bit of paper and glanced at Sax.

He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a wicked smile on his face. “Do you always sing so loudly?”

“Isn’t that the point?” I asked, my voice dry as I plucked the earphones out and dropped them into my lap. “To sing?”

“Sure, but you don’t need to do it all the time,” he teased. “Like, I’m sure even the best chefs in the world occasionally have baked beans on toast for dinner.”

I shrugged. “Singing relaxes me. It calms me down when I’m stressed.”

“What do you have to be stressed about?” he chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t know—performing six nights a week for the next few weeks with a band I’ve just joined?” I made a face. “I’m nervous about fucking it up.”

“Don’t even think about it. Seriously,” he said, noting my skeptical expression. “Just treat every show like a rehearsal. The point of this is to get you comfortable with singing with the band before we tackle bigger things like the LA Festival.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through get me comfortable,” I mumbled.

“It’s not just about that. I mean, the exposure you guys will be getting is great, and most of the shows have sold out, but I couldn’t think of a better way than this to get you ready. You can’t really prepare yourself, if that makes sense. The best way to get to a point where you can handle the nerves is to play in front of people.”

“I guess that makes sense. But I’ve played in front of people before. I’ve done quite a few open mic nights.”

“With no pressure, right? Nobody cared if you fucked up. You could completely forget half your shit and it would still be fine. It’s different when people are coming to see you. Even more pressure when you’re in a band and their success relies partly on you.”

Shit. I hadn’t even thought of it like that. Was he trying to make me feel better here or worse?

He laughed again. Leaning forward, he reached out and poked my leg. “I’m not trying to freak you out. Just don’t psych yourself out.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “Great uplifting chat. You should consider counseling.”

He laughed again as I popped the earpieces back in. I shook my head and smiled.

Don’t psych myself out.
Sure, no problem. I could handle that, right?

***

I walked slowly down the snack aisle of the gas station, trying to figure out what I felt like more: chocolate or Cheetos. A little voice in my head shouted at me to get both.
Fuck it. I will
.

I strode over to the cashier with my items, arriving there at the same time as Harry.

He looked at my stash and raised his eyebrows. “A girl who actually eats chocolate. I’m liking you more and more, M. Can I call you M?” he asked. He set his two cans of energy drinks and bag of Twizzlers down on the counter.

“I get the feeling you probably will, regardless of my answer,” I said, my voice dry.

He thought for a second and then nodded. “You’re right. I probably would. See you back at the camper, M.” He winked at me and I laughed.

Shoving my purchases in my pocket, I walked back to the van. Sax had taken the driver’s position, and the rest of the guys were stretched out on the seats behind him.

Which I guess leaves me upfront, with Sax, alone… again.

Well, kind of alone.

“This seat taken?” I asked as I opened the door.

“It is now,” Sax replied. He waited for me to climb in and shut the door before he glanced in the rear view mirror. “Everyone in?”

His question was greeted with a series of grumbles.

“How far are we from Little Creek?” I asked, sliding my butt down a little further so my head could rest on the top of the seat. I knew of the town we were headed to, but I’d never actually been there.

“About another two hours.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPod. “Put on some music if you like.”

I took it, letting my fingers glide over his. His eyes darted toward me briefly and my heart jumped. I quickly looked down, busying myself with his music collection. I ran through artists until I came across Severed. Smiling, I clicked play.

“You have your own music in here,” I said with a giggle.

He shrugged. “If I don’t appreciate it, then why should I expect anyone else to?”

“I guess. I just think it’s cute. Like an actor going to see themselves at the movies.”

“You don’t think Nick Cage or Brad Pitt go to the movies?” he asked in mock horror.

“I don’t know. I met Brad Pitt once in Starbucks.”

He chuckled. “I can just imagine how that went down.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Well, you were kind of freaked out when you realized who I was. Meeting someone actually famous? You’d lose the plot,” he laughed.

“Well, in my defense, I didn’t have posters of Brad Pitt all over my walls—” I shut my mouth, but it was too late.
No, no, no…

“You had posters of me on your walls?” he repeated, amused. “Micah, that is fucking adorable.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, covering my face with my hands.

He chuckled loudly next to me, clearly not ready to let it go.

“No! No laughing. Just shut up and drive.”

“What’s with you two?” Harry yelled from the back.

“Nothing. Mind your own business,” Sax shot back.

Harry muttered something under his breath and I hid a smile. They were usually so weird and awkward around each other, but every now and then you could see a glimpse of similarity in them. Did they even realize how alike they were?

***

We arrived in town just before six. I must’ve fallen asleep because the last sign I remembered seeing said Little Creek was sixty miles away.

Sax glanced over at me and smiled. “And she’s awake. You know, the point of the front passenger is to keep the driver alert.”

“Sorry, I guess I was tired.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Late night?” he asked.

“Not really. I just didn’t sleep well.”

“Boyfriend keep you up?” he asked casually.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he really interested whether or not I had a boyfriend? My heart raced as I shook my head.

“Is that really any of your business?” I teased.

“I’m asking strictly as your manager,” he assured me. “I mean, am I going to be fending off questions from a psycho jealous boyfriend? These are things I deserve to know ahead of time,” he replied earnestly.

I giggled, loving his sense of humor. “Nope. The only person you need to worry about is my roomie, Nelson.”

“Nelson?” he repeated, his tone suspicious.

“Yeah. He’s harmless. Well, I’ve been living with him for nearly three years and he hasn’t killed me yet.”

“Oh, that’s promising,” he said, his voice sour.

I laughed. “I’d like to be able to say if you met him, you would see how harmless he is, but the opposite is probably true.”

“This keeps getting better and better,” he muttered. “So, what you’re telling me is, if you suddenly don’t show up for rehearsals I should call the police?”

“Ha ha.” I made a face. “I feel bad even talking about him like that. He’s been really easy to live with. I came to LA when I was so young…I shudder to think of some of the people I could’ve ended up rooming with.”

“Right, you moved when you were eighteen? You got away from home pretty quickly.”

I nodded. This was the part where I knew to tread carefully. The less I spoke about my past, the less chance I had of fucking up.

“Why LA?” he asked.

“Why not? It seemed as good a place as any.” And it was a big enough place for me to get lost in. Now, it didn’t matter so much, but being fourteen and on the run, the last thing I’d needed was to be discovered.

“Fair enough,” he nodded.

“I’ve answered your questions. Your turn.”

He eyed me, his expression uneasy. “I’m dreading what you want to ask me,” he said dryly.

“Nothing too painful, I promise,” I said with a smile. “Though I am curious…” My voice trailed off as I worked up the nerve to ask what was on my mind.

“My exit from the public arena?” he guessed.

I nodded, pressing my lips together. “I know how the media construes things…I was just curious as to what really happened. I was a huge fan, if you didn’t get that from our first meeting.”

“I gathered,” he said. He raised his eyebrows, making me blush. “It was too much too soon. I was twenty-two with a shitload of cash/women/drugs…. I mean, do you remember what you were like three years ago? Are you the same person you were then?”

No. Not by a long shot.

“So what happened? You sort of just fell off the grid completely.”

He looked down, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “I avoided jail, but I had to do a stint in rehab. Then after that, community service.”

“Wow,” I murmured. “Harsh.”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “I fucked up. My sister ended up in the hospital for three weeks with a ruptured spleen and a broken leg. Every day I think of how differently things could’ve ended up.”

Shit. I’d known his sister had been in the car, but I’d never known she had actually gotten hurt. Wow. I couldn’t even imagine how that must have been for him.

“Rehab. The community service. I hate to think where I’d be today if none of that had happened.”

“Have you ever thought about singing again?” I asked softly.

“I’ve thought about it,” he sighed, and rubbed his neck. “I guess part of me misses the music side of it all. That feeling of being on stage. The rest of me wants nothing to do with the spotlight. At least with the band I get to satisfy something.”