The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance) (5 page)

"Lovely," Presley said, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, cunts can't drum. You do need arms for
that," Jett sighed, trying to lighten the mood with her literal
interpretation.

"Unless you're Rick Allen,' I said, referencing the
drummer from Def Leppard who lost his arm in a car accident. I tried to shrug
it off, but I was shaking.

"We better find Devlin," Jett said.

"This should not have happened," Presley fumed.
"Vince needs to get security on this tour." Presley may be a lot of
annoying things, but she took her big sister role very seriously.

Rafe and Dion's loud laughter carried over from the other
side of the bus. Presley stepped around the bus and yelled to them, "You
guy's better come see this."

The boys jogged to the bus, coming to a dead stop when they
rounded the front of it and saw its graffiti covered side. Rafe let out a low
whistle.

"Devlin see this yet?" Dion asked, his lips tight.

"No," Presley responded, crossing her arms.
"You guys have any idea who could have done this?"

Rafe glared at her. "What exactly are you saying there,
Sis?"

"She's saying that you guys weren't exactly happy about
us going on this tour. Or about Nikki joining the Nation," Jett said, and
she narrowed her eyes. "So we're all wondering if you guys had something
to do with it."

"That's a shitty accusation," Rafe said. He took a
step towards her, expecting her to back down. Instead, she took two steps
towards him, and got right in his face.

She pressed a finger into his chest. "That accusation
is not exactly unfounded."

"We didn't have anything to do with this," Dion said,
his voice sharp. "She's on this tour, she played a solid set. Bullshit
with Rafe in the opening number notwithstanding."

"She saved that opener," Jett argued. "No one
recognized the damn song his rhythm was so off."

"Jett," I said and shook my head at her.
"Let's just call Devlin and get this fixed. I just want to go to
bed."

Presley held up her phone. "I just sent him a text.
He's on his way."

The five of us stared at the bus in silence. Then Rafe
pointed to the back wheel.

"They're not only assholes, they're litterbugs,"
he said. Just behind the wheel were a bunch of discarded spray paint cans.

Dion went over and picked one up. He shook it, then did the
same with a few more. "They were in a rush to get out of here. These cans
are still pretty full."

"You know what that means?" Presley asked, a
devious smile spread across her face. She started snapping pictures of the
vandalized bus.

"Jesus, Presley. This is not the time for Instagram
selfies," I grumbled at her. "Especially not with that."

"Please," she said, waving a manicured hand at me.
"I'm taking pictures of the evidence and then we're going to cover this
shit up."

"You can't cover up the evidence!" Dion argued.
"The cops need to come and look at it."

"The cops can't do shit," Presley said.

I glanced at Jett. "What do you think?"

Jett sighed. "I hate to agree but malicious mischief is
a misdemeanor at best. Hurting someone's feelings is not a felony."

Presley snatched up one of the cans and gave it a shake.
"So let's have a painting party!"

"Right on," Rafe said. "I'll grab some beers
off the bus."

He opened the bus door, cued up some Led Zeppelin on the
sound system, and returned with five beers. We cracked open the brews and, with
Misty Mountain Top blaring, we got to work camouflaging the graffiti with
various homemade Rouge Nation and Satan's Sisters band logos.

Exhausted from the gig, and without any food in my belly, I
had a small buzz going by the time Devlin showed up. He was carrying a bag full
of burritos for all of us.

"Well, I'm going to have some explaining to do,"
Devlin sighed, taking in the graffitied side panel. "It looks like both
your bands puked on our bus."

While we stood back to survey our work, Rafe crept up behind
Jett and spray painted a bulls-eye on her ass. She shrieked then chased him
half way across the parking lot, finally countering with a huge orange X across
his bare chest.

"Settle down and eat," Devlin barked, tossing
burritos to us from the bag.

We did exactly that while the sun set over the Golden Gate
Bridge.

"What about the party?" Presley asked, picking at
her dinner. Always on a diet, she ate only the chicken out the overstuffed
tortilla.

"I'm done, you guys go without me," I said, taking
a big bite of my burrito. I wasn't worried about carb loading at all.

"No way," Jett said. "We stay together."

Presley sulked and looked over at Rafe and Dion.

"You can come with us if you don't cramp our
style," Dion said.

"Would I do that?" she asked, glancing up at him
through her thick eyelashes.

"Yes," Dion said. "I'm serious. If you cock
block tonight, you're off the tour."

My heart dropped to my stomach.

"You can't kick us off the tour for that," I said,
tossing the rest of my burrito aside. The thought of Dion hooking up with some
random groupie made me lose my appetite.

"No? Watch me," he said. "You don't mess with
a horny man's lay."

"You could always—" Presley made a jerk off motion
with her hands, and Devlin burst out laughing.

"Rouge Nation gets plenty of pussy," Rafe boasted.
"We haven't needed to do that in at least a year."

"More like three," Dion said, one-upping his
brother.

"You're both full of shit," Devlin said.

"I need to change," Presley said, jumping up.

"We want to get there sometime tonight," Dion
yelled after her. 

Rafe looked at Jett. "So you sure you don't want to
come?"

She snorted. "As appealing as this party sounds, I'll
be getting spray paint out of my jeans this evening. Seems a smarter use of my
time." She turned on her heel and climbed into the bus after Presley.

"Aw hell, Jett," Rafe yelled, jumping up and
following her. "There's more to life than smart, you know."

"Jesus, do I have to get changed with a fucking
audience?" Presley shrieked when Rafe walked onto the bus.

"Chill, would you? I've seen ta-tas before."

"Not my ta-tas," she hollered back.

Devlin snickered. "Close quarters." Presley loosed
a stream of expletives, which was followed by the sound of glass shattering.
"That's my cue to go break it up."

I was Devlin's turn to climb onto the bus and begin his
fatherly yelling at both Rafe and Presley, leaving me and Dion with our uneaten
burritos, staring at the side of the bus.

Dion cleared his throat and motioned to the graffiti.
"So that's messed up."

"You think I should be worried?" I asked, still a
little unnerved by the sentiment.

"Nah," he said. "Probably some 13-year-old
kid with nothing better to do."

"Right," I said, crushing my beer can and getting
to my feet. "Guess I'll see what's up in there."

Dion grabbed my wrist as I walked past. "You played
good tonight. Really good."

"Thanks," I said. He caressed the inside of my
wrist with his thumb and I swallowed hard. The sensation sent jolts of
electricity up my arm. He pulled me back down beside him. I winced when I felt
the skin on my knee stretch against the adhesive holding it together.

"You saved Rafe's ass out there, too," he
continued. "But if you tell him I said that, I'll deny it."

"I'll keep that between us," I murmured, thinking
of the other things we were keeping between us, like the night at my apartment
and the hook up in the rehearsal room.

"You sure you don't want to go to this party?" he
asked, his voice low. "There's probably an empty room..."

He moved my hand down to his crotch, and rubbed it against
his rigid shaft. I pressed my fingers against it and felt it throb through the
denim.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I don't think
that's a good idea, Dion. With the tour and everything..."

"You're right," he said. "We're bandmates
now. Right, little sis?"

"Right," I said, dropping my head so he wouldn't
see the blush creep up my face.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Your tits do
beautiful things when you play, by the way. Wear that shirt at the next
gig."

He dropped a hand to my breast, slipping it into my bra. He
his fingers worked my nipple like the fret board on his guitar. I closed my
eyes and leaned against him, rubbing his cock through his jeans as he teased my
nipple with the calloused tips if his fingers.

"You are such an asshole," Presley screamed,
yanking me back to reality me. Devlin was shouting something but his words were
hard to make out. Obviously, Presley and Rafe were still at each other's
throats.

"You're right," I said, pushing his hand away as I
re-adjusted my breast into my bra. "Bandmates."

I took a deep breath, stood and walked into the bus, leaving
Dion alone in the setting sun.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A load moaned jolted me awake.

"Oh, yes. Yes. Exactly. Right there." Dion's husky
whisper carried up from the bunk below me.

My eyes snapped open.

"Exactly. Exactly like that," he said. A feminine
giggle followed his voice.

Breath held, eyes squeezed closed, I willed it to be a bad
dream.

"Hang on, push. Deeper. Don't stop," he said with
a groan. "Oh yeah, speed it up. Yes. Yes."

More feminine giggling.

Nope, not a bad dream. Didn't Presley say this only happened
if you took the bottom bunk? I did not take the bottom bunk! I rolled to face
the wall and pulled the pillow over my exposed ear.

But Dion's voice traveled through the hypoallergenic
feathers. "Damn, girl, you're so good at that."

Then the rhythmic thumping started, just under me, banging
into my hip, which was pressed against the mattress.

"Oh, you're so hard!" she gasped.

That did it.

"Are you kidding me," I yelled before I rolled out
of my bunk. In my rush to get out of the bed, I lost my balance and crashed to
the floor.

The curtains to Dion's bunk —which, of course, was situated
just undermine —flung open, and the barely legal intern that showed us to the
stage was sitting astride on Dion's ass, her elbow pressed into his deltoid.

"Close the fucking curtain," she shrieked.

She rolled off his back and curled towards the far wall.
Clad in only a bra and lace panties that left zero to the imagination, she
struggled to pull the sheet out that was tucked under Dion to cover herself.

Dion climbed out of the bunk, a hard-on poking out from his
boxer briefs. She yanked the sheet to up to her chest to cover herself.
"Relax, Melissa. I'll handle this."

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, scrambling
to my feet. I felt downright frumpy in my oversized t-shirt and cotton PJ
bottoms.

"You really need me to explain this to you?" he
responded. The smirk on his face said everything.

Jett popped her head out from behind the curtains to her
bunk. "What the hell...whoa!" she yelped when she got an eyeful of
Dion and his erection. She covered her eyes with her hands. "I cannot
un-see that!"

A groggy Rafe pushed aside his bunk curtains. A sheet was
crumpled up below his torso, and, based on the bit of hip peeking out, that was
all that kept him decent. "Is it my turn, man?"

"Turn?" I squeaked. "His turn? You guys are sharing?"

"Brothers share everything," Rafe said around a
yawn.

Jett wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting."

My voice went up another octave. "Is she even legal?"

"I'm 18," she sniffed from her hidey-hole.

"Calm down, little prudish sister," Dion said,
leaning against the bunks. "She's a massage therapy student. She was just
practicing."

I glared at his dick, still protruding through the fabric of
his underwear. "Looks like there was a happy ending in your future."

A smile spread across his face, like the cat that ate the
canary. Or in Dion's case, the rock star that ate the pussy. "And who
doesn't want a happy ending?"

Presley poked her head out between her curtains. Her
sleeping mask was pulled up from one eye. "What's going on?"

"The boys were getting a happy ending. On the tour
bus," I growled.

That one eye went huge when she realized she was face to
face with Dion's junk. "I knew it, I knew it, I freaking knew it,"
she cried, scrambling out of her bunk. "You guys cannot help yourselves,
bringing any female with wide open legs onto the damn tour bus."

"Hey!" Melissa's protest came from the corner of
the Dion's bunk. "I did not have my legs wide open. Much." She hiccupped.
Then I noticed a bottle of rum next to Dion's pillow.

"Booze helps wedge those legs open," I said.

"But I'm wearing underwear," she said.

"Probably crotchless," I sniffed.

"You're just jealous because you're a blue-haired
freak," she barked.

There are a lot of rules on the road and one of the top ones
is don't egg on the drunk groupie. The younger they are, the less likely they
can handle their liquor. The result is either projectile vomit or belligerent
drunk.

I tossed out the rule book. "That's some tough talk
coming from someone in her under-roos."

Melissa shot out like a bolt from the bunk and lunged
herself at me. Her tackle took me by surprise and I toppled onto my back. She
was on top of me, her nails clawing into me.

"Sweet!" Rafe said, jumping out of his bunk and
nearly losing his sheet in the process. "Girl fight!"

The moving bus stopped short, and Melissa lost her balance.
Using that to my advantage, I bent my legs and got both of my feet under her
chest. I kicked her off of me and scrambled to my feet. She came at me again,
but this time I was ready. I bear hugged her, pinning her arms, and dragged her
to the front of the bus.

"What the hell is going on back here?" Devlin
yelled, coming out from behind the wheel. "Oh shit!"

I pressed the door open button and Melissa and I stumbled
outside. We wrestled by the side of the road, hands slapping. Devlin, Rafe and
Dion followed us onto the pavement.

"How the hell did this bus get a stow-away?"
Devlin yelled at Dion and Rafe while I tried to untangle Melissa's fists from
my hair. Devlin grabbed me from behind, and when he finally pried us apart,
clumps of my hair snarled around her fingers.

"Aw, hell, Devlin," Rafe said, not meeting the old
man's eyes. "You know how this tour shit goes."

"Is she even 18?" Devlin barked. She came at me
again. I was still wrapped in Devlin's arms, so I kicked out at her, landing a
good one in her solar plexus.

She made an "oof" sound, dropped to the pavement,
and then upchucked the rum.

"Oh for crying out loud," Devlin groused.
"How much did she drink?"

Dion held up his thumb and index finger to show a
measurement. It was not insignificant.

"Oh balls," Devlin swore. "Hey there, easy
now sweetie. You'll be okay." His fatherly attempt to soothe her was cut
short as she heaved up more of the rum. And possibly nachos. Maybe a burger. It
was hard to tell. "We haven't even been on the road for 48 hours and this
shit happens."

Presley stomped off of the bus. "This is why we should
be on airplanes," she shrieked. "We'd be in hotel rooms. You can
screw whatever you want in the privacy of your own hotel room."

"This is tour life," Rafe said. "You don't
like it? Don't tour."

"Get your head out of your ass," she snapped.
"That was tour life 10 years ago. Musicians have evolved. We're more
civilized now."

"Now, you're talking serious shit, Presley,"
Devlin said. He was holding back Melissa's hair while she continued to puke.
"Good lord, how much can possibly come up? I'm too old for this
shit."

"I knew touring with chicks was going suck," Dion
said. "That's why you bitches should stay home."

"Stay home?" I fumed. "Like pregnant and
barefoot in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, like get me a chicken pot pie, bitch!" Rafe
teased. Dion high fived him. Epic side eye came from both me and Presley.

"You are such a moron," I said.

"She's half right. You're both morons" Devlin
said. "What the hell do we do with this one now? We're hours from San
Francisco, boys. How'd you expect her to get home?"

Dion and Rafe exchanged glances. Rafe cleared his throat.
"Bus fare?" he asked.

"Not only are you both fools, but you have no sense of
honor," he snapped. "Get me something to cover this girl up with.
She's got to be freezing in this outfit. And let's call her a cab."

"Jett, toss me a blanket," Presley yelled into the
bus.

"A cab? To San Francisco?" Dion asked. "She
can't afford that."

"No but you can," Devlin said. "And you're
paying the cab fare."

"That's..." Rafe said, eyes rolled into his head
while he tried mental math.

"That's a piss load of money," Dion interjected.

"You can afford it," Devlin said, covering her
with the blanket Jett brought out of the bus. "Now go pack up her clothes
and get your credit card ready. And let this be a lesson to both of you to keep
the escapades off the damn bus."

Dion punched the side of the bus as he walked past me.

"Chicks on tour," he said, glaring at me.
"This is some epic bullshit."