Hard Rocked (2 page)

“Forget Ryan. Just hang with us. Let your hair down.” He reached over and brushed his hand over the side of my head where my long blond hair was scraped back smoothly in a bun.

My heart skipped a beat at his touch and I cringed inside. I’d been around rock stars my whole life, why was this one making me so jumpy?

“Sorry,” I said, a little shaky. “Hanging out is your department. I’m sure Ryan has a long list of things for me to do before we leave.”

He sighed. “Probably. But I bet none of them are as fun as partying with me.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but partying with you won’t get me a paycheck.”

“Maybe not, but it has all kinds of other perks.” The heat in his eyes was startling and then disappointing when he leaned in close enough for me to smell his breath. It reeked of whiskey and beer.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that guys like Dex are just overgrown children, desperate for attention all the time. He’d flirt with a potted plant if a human being wasn’t around. Placing my hand on his chest to get his attention and trying to ignore how warm and solid he felt, I pushed him back a little. I had to set clear boundaries or none of them would ever respect me. “Go play with your friends, Dex. I’ve got things to do.”

Disappointment flashed across his face but was quickly replaced with the smooth smile he usually wore. “Fine, fine. But consider that a standing offer, love.”

“I-uh, bye.” Annoyed with myself for getting so flustered by him – again, I continued out the door to find Ryan and get started on some real work that didn’t involve fending off a drunk flirt.

Twenty-four hours later, flirting was the last thing on my mind. Ryan had apparently left a lot of the tour preparation to the last minute, and with only a weekend between us and the chartered flight that would carry the band to Europe, I was slammed.

In some ways it was a blessing. I didn’t have time for second thoughts or doubts. Aside from sleeping, eating and one short conversation with my father, I worked around the clock. There were venues, hotels, restaurants, equipment rental places and a dozen other companies to confirm arrangements with. Luggage organization and schedules to finalize. Not to mention a ton of last minute travel planning when we found out the record label was only providing the plane for the trans-Atlantic part of the trip. Getting to the cities on the tour we couldn’t drive to was apparently up to us. A fact my new boss hard forgotten until I checked. That little oversight almost made me lose it, but I’ve always worked best under pressure and this was no exception.

The work itself was simple, keeping a lot of balls in the air at once and triple-checking everything. It wasn’t all that different from the party planning I’d been doing for the past few years, thank goodness. I’d gotten the job based on glowing recommendations from people Ryan respected, but none of them actually had any idea if I could help manage a rock tour.

It still bugged me that I’d traded on my father’s reputation to get this job, but it was a small price to pay for the opportunity. And it was nice to see some of his old contacts were willing to help his daughter out, no questions asked. It didn’t change my complicated feelings about that part of my life, but it was something.

As I went methodically through my list of things to do, certain thoughts kept creeping in, trying to distract me. My father, of course. I’d expected him to loom large over at least the beginning of this job. After all the years I’d spent watching him with musicians, being around them left a hole where he should have been. I missed the sly comments, the silly secrets he’d share with me about each one, taking a lot of the mystique away from the famous faces. And then there was the twinge of bitterness. For the normal life I never got, the protection and knowledge that I was the most important thing to him that I still craved.

But I also wondered how he’d do without me. The staff at the facility would see to his needs, of course. Every penny he had went to the care that place provided, and they earned it. But they couldn’t be his family. Couldn’t tell him old stories and jokes, kiss his cheek and tell him they love him like I could. And had, every single day since he’d moved there after it became clear I couldn’t take care of him by myself anymore.

I sighed, sending out a few emails while the printer spit out papers that needed to be copied. All the fans who were buying up the last tickets for the upcoming shows would be thinking how cool it would be to be on tour with the band. But from this side it was a lot of paperwork and communication. Definitely not as sexy as everything seemed when looking up at the stage.

Speaking of sexy, the other thing on my mind, besides my father, was Dex. Every time I saw a piece of paper with his name, that slow, sexy smile flitted across my brain and I felt flustered. Even though I knew he was just doing what came naturally and his flirtations had nothing to do with desire for me, he’d managed to get under my skin somehow. We hadn’t exchanged more than twenty words and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His long stride or the way the sleek shock of dark hair fell across his face. The sensuous curl of his lips, the naughty twinkle in his midnight eyes.

Stop it, Becca
, I chided myself. There was no point driving myself crazy. Even if I wanted some male attention, it wouldn’t be now, and it certainly wouldn’t be him.

Pretending that I really believed all of that, I went back to work. In a few hours I’d managed to complete almost everything on my list and push all of my distractions away. For a while, at least.

By the time Ryan entered the office I had full packets – electronic and print versions – for him and everyone else on tour staff. Copies had been sent to the members of the band, the label, and a few others on the list he’d provided.

I was in the process of straightening up when he appeared, seemingly in a better mood than the day yesterday.

“Ah, Rebecca. Glad you’re here. Looks like you’ve got things under control.”

“Yes, Ryan,” I replied, smoothing my hair back. “I think we might be ready to go on Monday.”

“We better be. There are millions of dollars riding on this tour. Everything must be ready.”

“Of course. I was just making a little joke. A bad one, I guess. We will be ready.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Yes. Well, good. So tell me, what did you think of the boys?”

Ryan sank down into the chair behind his desk where I’d been working. Since we were heading out on the road there was no reason for them to set up a desk for me, but it was strange to work in someone else’s space.

“I think they’re ready too. Everyone seems excited to go.”

“Of course. But what I’m asking is do you think you’ll get along with them? And more importantly, will you be able to control them?”

“Well,” I said with a small laugh. “As much as anyone could. They’re nice, for the most part, and seem open to working with me even though I’m new.”

“Yes. It’s been a little while. My previous assistant left months ago. My other female employees have also been reassigned to tasks that don’t involve close contact with the band.”

“Um, yes. Joe said there was a…situation.”

He grunted. “Yes. Very unfortunate. But I don’t expect to have any further problems in that area. You don’t seem like the type of girl to throw yourself at the boys. And, no offense,” he looked me up and down appraisingly. “But you’re not exactly their type either.”

I agreed with him on both counts, but still bristled a bit at the suggestion that none of the members of the band could possibly find me attractive. I would never win a beauty contest, but I’m not hideous either.

“Yes, well, I’m here to work, Ryan. Not date.”

“Good. Though, please remember to be friendly. If the boys think you’re on their side they’re more likely to trust you and listen to you. It’s a delicate balance.”

“Of course.” I nodded. “Good cop to your bad cop?”

“In a way, I suppose.” He sighed and reclined back in the chair. “Everything has changed very quickly, for all of us. Not so long ago I was their everything.”

For a moment I saw beneath the gruff and officious exterior. For all his bluster, Ryan really did care about the band. And not just as clients, but as people. It made me smile, and reassured me that I was doing the right thing working for him.

“But, anyway,” he finally continued. “No time for looking back. This tour is going to send their success to another level. International super-stardom is our aim, Rebecca. Everything rests on this trip.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, I have a few more things for you to do this weekend before we leave. You’ll want to write the list down.”

I swallowed back a groan and grabbed my notebook. “I’m ready. What’s next?”

“First, a few errands. Shouldn’t take you more than a few hours.”

Unsurprisingly, they actually took the rest of the day.

And the next morning I awoke to an email from Ryan with yet another list of requests. Usually lists calmed me, comforted me. But I was starting to think this job might ruin them for me completely.

But it wasn’t like I had anything else better to do. There was no loving boyfriend to kiss goodbye, or a huge group of friends to send me off. There had been, at one time. But since my father’s stroke I’d drifted away from most of my peers. It was hard to chat about clubbing and school or shopping and sex when my days were spent caring for my father and driving him to doctor and physical therapy appointments.

Once I finally made the decision to move him into a care facility, my friends had moved on without me. Oh they’d Facebook me occasionally and two called when they heard about my new job, but there wouldn’t be anyone at the airport to see me off.

The only person who’d miss me at all still couldn’t speak much. I’d hugged him tight and promised to email every day. It took him forever to tap out a response with one hand, but I knew he appreciated hearing from me, and I felt less guilty for leaving if I could keep him up-to-date on what I was doing.

By Sunday night when I got home I was so tired I could barely see straight. But I couldn’t go to bed yet. I still had to finish packing my luggage and a few boxes for storage. I retyped the instructions for my subletter and checked that all the contact information I left her was correct.

I was pretty sure a bit of light was showing in the sky when I finally closed my eyes. And my alarm woke me a few hours later, but I rose not tired, but hyper. Exhilarated. Ready for the great adventure to begin.

I’d never been on a private plane before and didn’t know what to expect. I had researched the storage dimensions and limitations and reviewed the food and beverage options, but hadn’t thought about what sitting and flying in one would be like.

Climbing onto the lovely Gulfstream was something of a shock. Fortunately I was the first one there, so none of the band members got to see me staring, open-mouthed at the plane we’d be flying over the Atlantic Ocean in.

The flight attendant, a brittle-looking woman in the forties welcomed me aboard and asked if I needed anything.

“No, thanks,” I told her. “I’m just getting some things ready for the rest of my group.

“Fine. I’ll be arranging the galley, let me know if you do need help finding or stowing anything.”

I thanked her again and let myself just gape at the plush décor around me once she’d left. I knew the plane was configured to seat sixteen people and there would only be twelve of us. Behind the small kitchen area there were two sets of four seats that swiveled around tables on either side of the aisle. Each had a set of hookups for charging equipment and connecting to the internet. I happily dropped my purse on one, glad I could be online during the flight.

Then I moved on, checking that everything was clean and tidy. It was, of course. The damn plane cost over fifty million dollars, it’s not like anyone would leave it messy. But I wanted everything to be perfect, so I checked anyway. Behind the business-oriented seating area there were bench seats, sort of like couches, but attached to the walls. They had tables that slid down from the arms, but were of the same rich dark leather as the other seats. I dropped a folder on each seat for the members of the band, even though I was certain they’d ignore them.

Past that area there was a section for storage and eating. A closet on one side and a table with four chairs on the other. I put the rest of the bags I was lugging into the closet and turned around. Next to the table there was a small refrigerator. I opened the door and saw it was fully stocked with wine, water, juices and sodas. I assumed the beer I’d ordered would be in the larger refrigerator in the kitchen, or galley, as the flight attendant had called it.

I laughed to myself.
Got to get the lingo down
.

Feeling giddy with nervous excitement and lack of sleep, I opened the other door in the back of the plane, and found, as I expected, a bathroom. Compact, but way nicer than any other plane bathroom I’d seen. Like the rest of the plane’s interior it was decorated in rich burgundy, cream and chrome. Even the hand soap matched the colors.

I shut the door and went back to the main area. I checked the cabinets across from the bench seating and saw snacks, a telephone, a stereo system and a DVD player that I assumed was attached to the flat screen that was bolted above it.

Figuring the guys would want to rest, I decided to move my home base. I folded down the tables in the front so they could recline the seats, plush and almost wide enough to sleep comfortably in.

I dumped my stuff back on the table and sat down, trying to calm my nerves. As if she understood, the flight attendant strolled back and smiled at me tightly. “Need anything?”

“Nope.”

“First flight on a private jet?”

“Yes. And a brand new job. I’m a little jumpy.”

The next smile from her was wider, and more genuine, lighting up her whole face. “You poor thing. Well you’ve got nothing to worry about on this flight. We’re all old pros.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, I know you’re working, but do you want a Bloody Mary or a Mimosa? A little alcohol might be just the thing for your nerves.”