Page 3 of Carte

While I was a quiet hermit, that didn’t mean my band was, and I wasn’t such a bitch to cramp their style. I knew they lived and breathed music, but they also lived and breathed life.

There was only one rule I stressed about. Absolutely no drugs backstage or on a bus. And definitely no minors.

Everything else was a fair game as long as both parties agreed to it and were willing. I wasn’t their mother. Technically, I wasn’t their boss either.

“Harley!” Tim, my tour manager called, his voice cutting through the burr around us. “Get your ass in the green room in five. Press want a—”

“No can do, Tim,” I shot back, not even bothering to look or stop on my way to my dressing room.

Stacey, my assistant, and our newest member of the team, rushed my way, her hand extended, handing me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I muttered with a grateful smile and took the bottle.

“It's non-negotiable. What am I supposed to say to them?” Tim asked as he came my way and stopped before me, blocking my way to the door of my dressing room that was just out of reach.

I looked longingly at the door, then glared up at Tim. “Tell them I’m spiritually unavailable. What do I care? Make some shit up.” I opened the bottle and chugged half of it.

Tim threw his hand wide, rolled his eyes and drawled, “I can’t say that. No rock and roll musician would ever utter those words. Besides, it’s part of your job.”

“Well, this musician will.” I pointed a thumb at myself. “And when’s the job done? When I’m dead?” I asked sweetly, showing him all my teeth. I was sure I looked like a deranged lunatic, but I was in serious need of some peace and quiet. And tea. And a scented candle. And my notebook.

Yeah, I needed to get the fuck in my dressing room. Now.

Tim didn’t laugh, which was weird. He usually chuckeled off all my sarcastic, dumb responses. He just stood in front of me, his brows creased, hands on his hips. Waiting.

“Tim, you okay?” I asked, tilting my head.

He put his arms down as he heard my question and blinked. Then, almost immediately, he crossed them on his chest, then again, a half a second later, he put them on his hips again. Only to move them again as he shifted from side to side.

Okay, something was definitely up. I'd never seen Tim so uncomfortable, no matter if he was always in a suit and tie. Let alone being this twitchy.

I grabbed his forearm as he gripped his opposite shoulder. “Did something happen with the crowd? Did someone get hurt?” I mentally shifted through the gig, but still, I couldn't recall a single incident or suspicious shift in the crowd. There was no pushing or excessive jumping. All I could remember was seeing the sea of faces moving to the beat, and enjoying the fuck out of my music.

“Harely,” he said again, and shifted closer, lowering his voice. “Come with me.”

Oh, no.

Fuck no.

“Tell me,” I demanded, my voice rough as I stood my ground.

There was no way I was moving somewhere private just to soften the blow. I wanted to know whatever it was he was hiding from me. And I wanted to know right then. I didn’t want or need sugarcoating.

He was still silent, just watching me with his brown, kind eyes.

I started talking. “Tell me, Tim. What did the guys break? When did they have the time? We just finished with the gig. Damnit! How much do we owe?”

I watched him as he tried to smile, but all he managed was some tight-lipped grimace that made him look more like he was constipated than the soothing expression I was sure he was going for.

“Harley.” He sighed, his eyes flicking left than right, clearly checking for something.

Then, that painful looking smile twitched. “Don’t freak out.” He finally got his hands to stop moving here and there, but now they were extended my way, palms turned down, and pressing the air.

I looked at him for a second and then looked up at him only to blink like a confused toddler. “I’m not—”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence since Tim suddenly burst out, “You’re getting a bodyguard.”

I stood still. Tim seemed frozen after the words came out of his mouth. I was almost positive that everyone around us stopped moving. Hell, even the damned air stood still. It had to be, because there was none going in my lungs.