AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirty-Four
Julian
“Shut the hell up and go to bed, asshole!”
With thoughts of Phoebe running through my head for the better part of the night, I’d just dozed off on the couch when a full beer can flew past my head and crashed into something hard. I opened one eye as Ty stood at the front of the tour bus with eyes blazing, holding his foaming guitar.
“It’s almost noon, you piece of shit,” he said, grabbing random clothes to soak up beer from the strings. “If you fuckers wouldn’t stay out until dawn, maybe you wouldn’t sleep all day.”
Zane lifted his head and smirked. “Maybe if you’d come out with us, you’d actually get pussy instead of being one.”
I’d already rolled back over by the time Ty protested.
“I get pussy just fine.”
Zane laughed. “Last year doesn’t count, brother.”
“I’ve seen some of the chicks you hook up with, dude. I wouldn’t fuck them with your dick.”
So much for sleep.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up. I had no idea where the hell we were, but I knew it wasn’t too far from Santa Fe, New Mexico. My mind had been anywhere last night but on the concert. The crowd didn’t seem to care, but I was on edge every time someone threw shit on the stage. Because of what happened in Salt Lake City, security guards were like snipers. Lately, the only things being thrown were the usual panties, phone numbers, and hotel card keys. I’d tried to skip out on the meet and greet, but Kristina put her foot down.
Literally.
The woman put her foot down on my goddamn toe after I told her where she could shove her meet and greet. She said we’d be living in a cardboard box on Skid Row if I continued to treat my fans like assholes. She was right, but kissing people’s asses every night for a life that’d brought me nothing but danger sucked hard.
“Where are we?” I mumbled underneath the shitty blanket I’d found in a drawer at four a.m.
“Since I’m driving the bus from bed, let me pull the GPS out of my asshole and check,” Ryker yelled a few feet back. “Go. To. Sleep. Julian.”
Ryker was a kid. What did he know about responsibilities?
I had security and convicts watching the house, but it didn’t help. Call it male pride, but nobody could protect my wife and daughter like I could. I needed to be there for them, not two or three states away being worshipped by people who didn’t have the first clue about the man behind the microphone. They glorified the Julian the media wanted them to know. They lusted after an image—something my old manager, Helena, had created a year ago. They didn’t know me. Phoebe knew me.
I hated leaving her after she’d gotten that damn package. Ever since Iris’s birth, my strong, sassy woman had morphed into an emotional, fragile mess. It wasn’t like her. Mom said it was normal for mothers to be hormonal, but I’d never seen her so unbalanced. This whole shit with her father changed her. My Phoebe slipped away, and my job had me on a damn tour bus somewhere in New Mexico.
Something had to give.
“Answer your phone, jackass. Jesus Christ, do I have to sleep in the shitter to get some peace on this bus?”
I lifted my head. “Huh?”
“Yes, you, Jag,” Zane shouted under his pillow. “Your phone’s been vibrating back here for ten minutes. Answer it, or I’m flushing the motherfucker.”
I’d left my phone on the back table after my two a.m. pace-fest. Jumping off the couch, I tripped over random shit on the bus floor until I reached the table.
My blood ran cold when I saw the caller ID. “Everson?”
“Mr. Bale, finally. I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour.”
My throat tightened. “Where’s Phoebe?”
“Sir, she’s…”
“Where’s my wife?”
“Sir, your wife is fine.” Everson took a breath, and I let one out as the entire bus stared. “It’s not your wife I’m calling about.”
