Because of Luke Read online

  Did he just ask me out?

  "And I know what you're thinking," he cuts in before I can respond. "But this has nothing to do with my mother. Or yours."

  I eye him suspiciously anyway. If it did, like earlier, it's not as if he'd tell me.

  "If I'm being completely honest, I didn't agree to do this because I thought I could trick you into anything. You're smarter than that." He grins. "Always have been. It takes a girl with more than half a brain to escape Carlson Penitentiary every Saturday night and still make it to church on Sunday looking completely innocent and untouched."

  This makes me laugh and I start to relax a little.

  "Look, all I know is when I saw you with that guy the other night, I realized something. I've missed you, Shannon. The whole time I was away..." he sighs. "You were always on my mind. And I felt bad for leaving the way I did. I should have told you about the scholarship. It was just easier to leave."

  Easier for him. He can't even imagine how hard it was to wake up the morning after senior prom—the very morning after losing your virginity—only to find your boyfriend was so guilty for sleeping with you he ran off to another state.

  To be fair, it didn't exactly go down like that. But it sure felt like it.

  "I'm sorry," he says, as if reading my mind. "If I could do it again..."

  What? Would he stay and face me? Or just avoid the situation altogether?

  "We were young, Shannon. And it's not that it didn't mean anything. It meant so much. But it didn't make it right. I shouldn't have done that with you back then and I've regretted it every day."

  And that's what makes us so different. Because I never forgot it. It's a memory I cherished for a long time. Back then, I loved Dave. And giving myself to him wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do. Before that, I'd gone pretty far with other guys, but never all the way. And it never meant a thing. But that night with Dave meant the world. And him leaving the way he did changed everything.

  "You didn't have to," I say quietly.

  "What?" he asks. "Leave? Or regret it?"

  "Both."

  The day he left changed me. And I felt so guilty for running him off, I desperately wanted to change myself. I became the girl who mutely obeys everything her parents say. The one who does anything and everything just to please them. The one who was determined to be a good influence on her little sister. But that girl, the girl I am now, isn't me. I haven't been the real me for years.

  We drive in silence for a little while until Dave says, "I'm still kind of hungry. Feel like some barbecue?"

  I raise my eyebrows and suck the air through my teeth. "I don't know, Dave. That's right up there on the list of foods not to eat on a date. Spaghetti, soup, pizza, and if you're lucky enough to have a Southern grandma like me, barbecue."

  "Well, seeing as this is more of a reunion between two friends, how about we throw caution to the wind, get a little crazy? I may even let you buy me a beer."

  Now that I'd like to see.

  I smile, biting the corner of my lip. "You're on."

  CHAPTER TEN

  En Route to Costa Mesa, California

  Sheila

  The door to my closet of a room opens and I sit up, straining my eyes in the dark. I can't make out the figure in the doorway and at this point I don't much care. It's got to be at least four in the morning and I'm exhausted. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in days and, if I have to chase off one more groupie in the middle of the night, I'm going to scream. I never thought I'd want to give up my dream after one week.

  Unfortunately, dropping it all and going home isn't an option. Thanks to my bold retreat from my parents' house, this cramped bus that permanently smells like man stench is my home. I pull the blanket over my head and murmur a curse. It's the most I can muster right now. My head is pounding, my body is stiff and my ears haven't stopped ringing since Dallas. Whichever idiot this is, they'll figure out they've stumbled into my end of the bus, mumble an apology and close the door and the draft behind them. Eventually. I just need to wait it out.

  But whoever it is isn't catching on to the usual routine. He stands there, shuffling around, making an annoying scuffing noise against the rug. The cool air from the AC, tunneling through the door, hits an exposed leg, I'm too lazy to attempt to cover with the rest of the blanket. The scuffing morphs into thumping and I finally force myself to sit up.

  "What the hell?" I moan. "Carlson's space. Go away."

  "Not a chance," he replies, finally closing the door behind him. "You owe me."

  "Luke?" Alarm hits alongside familiarity and I brush my hair out of my face. My tongue is thick with nighttime foam and I'm pretty sure my breath smells like ass. I swipe my lips with the back of my hand. "What are you doing?"

  "Crashing." And with that he plops down on the bed next to me.

  It's so dark I can't see his face, and I am beyond grateful he can't see mine.

  "Here?" I squeak.

  "They're still playing strip poker with those two chicks from Phoenix. If I hear another shriek I'm going to kill somebody."

  "Phoenix?" I flip on my lamp, no longer caring what state I'm in. "We're supposed to be half-way to California by now."

  "We are," he yawns. "I guess they're coming with."

  "Shit!" I say it so loud he covers his ears. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

  Luke sighs. "I wish I were."

  I let out a little shriek and throw my blankets off. I'm in no mood, but I don't have much of a choice either. Two more girls means two more mouths. Two times the headache and I don't get paid nearly enough for that. I shove my feet into my slippers and pull my hair up into a ponytail. My little tantrum has put Luke on full alert and he stares at me from his prone position on the bed.

  "This is ridiculous," I spit. "What makes them think they can just jump on the bandwagon like this is some kind of free for all? One of them better not be Roscoe's because I swear to god, I'll quit right now. I'll get off this goddamn bus and run back home. I swear I will."

  I open my door and burst out into the moving bus in nothing but a pair of tight white shorts, and a thin tank top. The blond sitting on Roscoe's lap scowls in my direction when all eyes turn on me.

  "Who the hell is she?" her redheaded friend asks, pouting.

  "Sparkles!" They're all drunk off their asses as they call out in a round of bellows and guffaws. It only pisses me off more.

  "What's going on?" I focus on Roscoe, my voice calm as I observe the significant lack of clothing his green-eyed companion is wearing.

  He practically pushes her off him as he jumps out of his chair. And as he does, the bra that's apparently just been unfastened slips from her front revealing a pair of the most plastic breasts I have ever seen. She doesn't even seem to care, giggling it up with her friend, as the guys stare at her, open-mouthed. Roscoe keeps his eyes fixed on me and I glare back, hands on my hips.

  He stumbles his way over to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder, which is doing more to hold him upright than anything else. "It's not what you think," he drawls, then squeezes my shoulder.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't invite two random chicks to join the tour? They're not sitting here half-naked on the bus? One of them wasn't practically straddling you?"

  There's more snickering behind him and I cast Dash and Ryan a hateful glower that shuts them both up instantly.

  "Sweetheart, we were just having a little fun."

  "We can't afford this shit, Ross! You guys make sand dollars playing three shows a week." I hold up one finger after another. "Megadeth, Slayer, Anthrax, Testament, Suicidal Tendencies, Alice in fucking Chains. Not Roscoe Gold. Nobody cares about Roscoe Gold. It's Clash of the fucking Titans! You got lucky, assholes." I turn my fire on the others. "So you need to start acting like it. We barely make enough to pay for gas on this guzzler of a bus. And now you want to add two more fucking mouths to feed? You're the one who wanted to go all out like you're a full blown rock star. We should have rented a minivan,"
I scream. "Would've been nice seeing you try to stuff a bunch of bimbos in one of those."

  One of the girls throws a nasty comment in my direction, but I barely decipher it. I'm too angry, too frustrated. Too...tired.

  "Sounds like you don't much believe in our potential, sweetheart." Roscoe's voice is low enough so only I can hear him. He sounds wounded but it's nothing compared to the way I feel.

  "I didn't say that," I respond, all out of fight now. "I just think...maybe..."

  "Maybe what?" His gray eyes lower, then flick back up to my face. "You quitting on me after one week?"

  "I can't do this anymore." I shake my head, tears threatening. "You have no idea what it's like, being the only girl on this bus. Putting up with all your crap. If I walk in on another girl giving you head, or another stupid bitch in my bed when all I want to do is pass out, I swear to god, Ross. I'll just die. I'm tired. Maybe I should just go home."

  "Carlson—"

  "You need to make up your mind," I cut in, as I turn my back on him. "Me or them. Let me know by the next stop."

  I close the door behind me and plop down beside Luke's still frame.

  Luke

  I crack an eyelid and hug myself, reveling in the peace and quiet. The bus hasn't been this dead silent since we started the tour. Riling up Sheila was selfish, but it worked, just like I knew it would. There's something about her that puts the rest of these guys in their place at the drop of a hat. One look, one snarl and they start acting like a group of school boys in detention.

  "You awake?" I whisper.

  "What?" she snaps.

  "Nothing," I respond quickly. I'm no exception to the Sheila-in-charge rule.

  She sighs and shifts in the bed next to me. "Sorry." I can tell by the way her voice carries clear across the space between us, she's facing me. "I'm just mad."

  "I can tell." And rightfully so, but then again... "I'll be the first to admit this whole crazy ride has been...well, crazy. But, I have to ask, what did you expect?"

  "What?"

  "You're in a tour bus with four, well, three wannabe rock stars, miles from home. You had to expect trashy girls and late night parties."

  She doesn't respond.

  "I'm not judging. I'm just saying..." I sigh. "I probably shouldn't have sicced you on him. He's going to be pissy tomorrow and if you thought loud parties and random girls were bad, wait'll you see my brother with PMS." She laughs and I join in with a chuckle. "Don't let him get to you too much. He's totally immature and impulsive but...in a way, he's entitled."

  "How so?"

  Part of me wants to get into it, but I know I shouldn't. I don't divulge a whole lot of information about my family. And even though Sheila's hardly a stranger, it would be too transparent. There aren't many people I reveal myself to. Then again, with the way things have been going on this tour, I could use a listening ear.

  Roscoe's constantly on me to have a better time, or to at least act like it. And Ryan and Dash keep begging me not to argue with him. Then there's the fact that even though I've called her a million times, I haven't been able to get a hold of Shannon. When she decided to label our time together a fling, she wasn't kidding. But I really hoped she was.

  "He didn't have much of a college experience, I think he's making up for it now. It's annoying sometimes, but I can't blame him."

  "College?" There's humor in her voice. "Roscoe went to college?"

  "Berklee College."

  "Of music? Oh, my god. That's like..."

  "Yeah, I know. It was only for about five months. But he had to drop out."

  "For you. Coco told me. I can't believe he gave up Berklee. That's huge."

  "Yeah." I clear my throat. "Anyway, I think he just sometimes gets caught up in the moment. But when all is said and done, he chooses wisely." I bring my hands underneath my cheek. "He'll choose you. He respects you. I don't know how you do it, but you keep my brother in line."

  Sheila sighs softly. "We'll see. Good night, Luke."

  "Night."

  I peek through the blinds watching Roscoe hug one of the girls from last night. Crisis averted. I knew without a doubt he wouldn't let Sheila quit, but it's going to be a long day.

  We've still got a three-hour drive ahead and if I'm going to last in this dingy old bus with my pissy hung-over brother, I'm going to need a breath of fresh air.

  "Anyone want anything from inside?" I throw the comment over my shoulder in good faith, hoping to be met with silence.

  After writing down the order of Slim Jims, Twinkies, flavored cigars, and various candy bars, I step out into the parking lot of the gas station and shield my eyes from the sun.

  "There's no way you guys are smoking that shit in here," is the last thing I hear as I close Sheila's barking behind me.

  I fish around in my pocket for change and head straight to the first pay phone I see. I should really invest in a mobile phone. I must have spent the equivalent in quarters already anyway. I tap out the memorized numbers on the key pad and lean my back up against the plexiglas. When someone picks up, I nearly drop it.

  "Hello?"

  It's silent on the other side.

  "Shannon?"

  "Lucas?"

  "Shannon, hey. It's me. How are you? I...I've been trying to reach you." I brace myself, with an arm above my head, on the opposite side of the booth, and angle my head hiding my conversation from whoever might be listening. "How are you?" I ask again, then squeeze my eyes closed in embarrassment.

  "Good," she replies. "How are you?"

  "I'm good. Um, yeah, just hanging."

  "How's your brother?"

  I glance over at him, just as he turns his back on the pair of girls climbing aboard a Greyhound bus. Our eyes meet and I can tell I'm in for a long drive.

  "He's okay, I guess."

  "Where are you calling from? I don't recognize the area code."

  "Somewhere in California. I think it's called Blythe."

  "Oh. Is that where you're vacationing?"

  "Yeah. Here, there, a little bit of everywhere." I scratch my head.

  "Cool. That's quite the family trip."

  "Sure is."

  "What have you been up to?" she asks.

  "Not much. Just..." playing the bass until my fingers bleed, avoiding groupies, arguing with my brother, binge drinking on my off days, trying my best not to be tempted by the virgin who's come along for the ride, hardly sleeping. "Hanging out. Making memories."

  "Sounds nice."

  I've considered telling her the truth, but I'm not sure it would make a difference. No, that's not true. It would make a difference. She's made it clear how she feels about guys in bands, and I'm not a guy in a band. Not really. I'm a guy forced into a band. In three months, I'll just be a guy.

  "Look," I say. "I know what you said that last night, but I was hoping...we're going to be in Seattle in a few days and I was wondering if maybe we could meet."

  "You're coming back to Washington?"

  "Just for one night. What do you say? Will you meet me there?"

  "I don't know, Lucas."

  "I've been thinking about you." I know how I sound, what Roscoe would have to say about it, but I don't care.

  "I've thought about you too," she says. "A lot. We had such a great time together but, what's a night in Seattle? Just another one I'll need to stop thinking about...and I'm trying to move on."

  "From what?"

  "I've been sort of seeing someone."

  Her words are like a kick in the gut. I don't know whether I want to yell or cry, but I do my best to keep my voice under control. "Is it serious?"

  Shannon breathes into the phone. "Not yet. But I'd like to try and see things through."

  "I knew it," I mumble.

  "Lucas...I'm sorry. What we did was...it was nice. But you're gone and I don't want to complicate things. I just need to stop thinking about you."

  I let out a sigh of relief. "You can't stop thinking about me?"

  She doesn't
respond.

  "Me too," I say quickly. "And I really don't think one more night will hurt. You said it yourself, whatever you have with this guy isn't serious. I'm thinking one more night might be just what we need."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "'Cause I get this feeling if I see you again, I'm not going to let you go. You won't get off so easy this time." Another sigh filters through the phone and I will her to give me the answer I need to hear. "Please? One more night, clothing on. I'll even promise you that."

  She's silent for so long, I'm positive she's hung up, until she clears her throat and says, "Okay, Lucas. One more night."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sheila

  No fucking way, is all he said. And I'm mad as hell. I decided to take Paula up on the rest of her advice and go out for the grand gesture. But Roscoe isn't having any of it. Despite the fact that negotiating with the promoter, Bill Fiennes, could get them more stops on the tour, he doesn't want to take the risk.

  Thing is, I don't see how pointing out the obvious is a risk. Roscoe Gold has quickly become a fan favorite. And thanks to Coco's help with Roscoe's Diamonds, sending out newsletters and posting the gigs in the Classifieds, they have girls from all over coming just to see them play. If that's not potential, I don't know what is. What I don't understand is why Roscoe doesn't see what I see.

  He's constantly complaining about how unfair their lack of exposure is, but he won't do anything about it. Well, he's on his own.

  I have a plan. Roscoe may not like it, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him. I hold the phone to my ear and my breath at the same time as I wait for Coco to pick up.

  "Did you land him yet?" is the first thing she asks once she realizes it's me.

  I laugh. "No. I'm not so sure I'm up for the challenge anymore."

  "Didn't I tell you? Tough nut."

  I sigh.

  "So now you can go after his brother," she teases.

  "I'm good. Living on the road with him has taught me a few things about what's appealing and what isn't. But at least I have someone to play cards with again," I add brightly.