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“But they need me to play.”
“No, they don’t,” he replied. “They have this. And I can always come on and play if I’m needed.”
“You… you will?” she asked.
“Yep.” He’d do anything to help her right now.
“Okay… okay, then. I have this,” she said in a stronger voice.
“You have this. And, Bumblebee?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be right here watching. Give me a sign if you need me. All right?”
She stared up at him and he swore that her normally blue eyes were glassy with tears. But then she closed them, breathing in deep and turned away. Disappointment filled him until she reached out and squeezed his hand.
“Thank you.”
“After I’m finished playing, I want to talk to you, all right?”
She looked pensive, but she nodded before striding out onto the stage at the very end of the song. Brand saw the relieved look the guys she played with sent her. They’d take care of her.
“What are you doing?” Mikey asked, coming up beside him.
“That’s none of your business.”
“You can’t get involved with her. You know what happened with Rocco?—”
Brand swung around to glare at him. “Of course I know what happened with Rocco. He’s been my friend and a member of my band for years. Yeah, he fell in love with the wrong person. But that has nothing to do with Jolie. And frankly, it’s none of your business.”
Rocco had gotten involved with a member of another of the bands who’d been on tour with them. Their break-up had been so spectacular that the label had to replace them with The Raging Misfits.
Mikey swallowed but held his ground. “I shouldn’t have brought them onboard. Clearly, she’s unprofessional.”
“She’s been nothing but professional and you know it. She stays. The band stays. And you stay out of it.”
He turned away from Mikey. He’d always gotten along okay with the guy, but he wasn’t going to put up with him disrespecting Brand’s girl.
And that’s what she was going to be.
Jolie Ryan would be his girl. Tonight, she was coming back to the hotel with him. And tomorrow, after he made sure she had plenty of sleep and ate well, he’d tell her the way it was going to be.
But four hours later, when the concert was over, she wasn’t there waiting for him.
He went to the tour bus The Raging Misfits were using, knocking on the door. One of the guys, Owen, opened the door and looked out at him.
“Brand? What the fuck? I’m trying to sleep here, man.”
“Sorry. I need to see her.”
Owen gave him a wary look. “Who? Jolie?”
“Yes, Jolie,” he said impatiently. “Is she sleeping?”
“Uh, man, she’s not here.”
“What do you mean, she’s not there?” he snarled. “Where the fuck is she?”
