The Problem With Heartache (16 page)

And that if he did, I might like it.

I shook the thought away. I honestly didn’t know what had come over me in that moment, but I knew I had to do something to stop him constantly teasing me, and Stacey’s advice had certainly shut him up. I couldn’t help it if my stupid cheeks went red at the slightest thing.

“That’s the last of it, Miss.” One of the crew, a guy I referred to as Gropey due to his perpetually wandering hands, gave me the nod as he loaded the final guitar into the bus. It was something I’d learnt the hard way on my first day; guitars go in last as they’re lightest, not first as they’re most expensive. And Gropey had been physical in his demonstration of this order: apparently that required some tits-and-ass contact.

“Great. You can knock off now.” I nodded and ticked the item off my clipboard run sheet. It was ridiculous that I carried it, really. I knew like the back of my hand the things that needed to be done pre- and post-gig. It had only been three weeks, but when your list of responsibilities was quite short, it wasn’t too hard to figure out what to do. Sometimes, I thought I just carried the piece of plastic to make sure no one confused me for one of the dancing girls. Even if earlier today I had acted like one.

“Katie!” I turned with a smile and was wrapped in Lottie’s embrace. “How are you, baby doll?”

“Good.” I nodded. “Tired.”

“Again?” she screeched, and I gave a small laugh. Every night post-show, Lottie came up to me and asked me to join her for some drinks back at her room while Jay slept. And every night, I refused.

I was here to work. I wasn’t here to have fun, to go out and enjoy life.

Not when others couldn’t.

It hit me once again, a bowling ball to the stomach, and I pressed my thumb into the pressure point on my hand to make it stop, to try and give myself a physical pain to hold onto. Anything to stop the pang of missing, the pang of loneliness washing over me.

“Well, I have some bad news. This time I’m not taking no for an answer.” Lottie grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from my hand with a small shake of her head. “I’ve finally convinced Benny to sit Jay for me, so I am child-free—and
you
owe me at least one drink.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Lottie had this positive energy buzzing about her, and I had to admit—I kind of missed some girl talk. Bossing around the boys was kinda getting tiring.

And that was how I found myself walking into a bar about an hour later. I followed Lottie’s lead as she waltzed up to the security guard out front and whispered something in his ear. He gave a curt nod and unclipped the rope, letting us through, much to the chagrin of the other people waiting in line.

“Did you tell him we were with the band?” I yelled in Lottie’s ear to be heard over the grinding rock beat of the music.

“Nope.” Lottie gave me a wicked grin. “I told him I’d show him my boobs later if he’d let us through.”

I laughed, even though I had no idea if she was kidding or not. From what I’d seen, despite being a dedicated mother, Lottie was a bit of a wild child. It could be either way.

We pushed our way through the heaving throng of people to the bar. Well, I pushed. Lottie seemed to stare and they effortlessly parted before her, closing back in when I needed to muscle my way through. She was tall, a waif-like figure, with this impish smile and a dancer’s body—it was no wonder people moved out of the way for her. She had a presence that simply could not be ignored.

We got to the bar and she ordered shots. We downed three Wet Pussies each in the space of five minutes, then each took a beer and wandered through the club, searching out the boys. Finally, after ten minutes we spotted a roped-off VIP balcony, and after more bouncer negotiation—this time I heard her, and she definitely did not offer a strip show—we were able to move out of the sweaty masses and into the spacious upstairs area.

“Get ready to party.” Lottie gave me a wink. I looked around. The area was quite large, much bigger than it had looked from the floor. Tables and bar stools were lined up the back, with decadent leather lounges lining the balcony railing, so you could recline in comfort while spying on the people below.

There were about thirty people up here; six guys from the crew, Sam, the driver—who nodded politely at me—about five of the strippers, three random dudes who I guessed were mates with someone important, and no less than twelve other scantily-clad females, whose sole purpose here seemed to be gyrating. Every single one of them was gyrating on a piece of furniture, on a band member, or even on each other.

“What’s the point in having a private area if you’re just going to invite all these randoms in?” I asked, looking at the dozens of people to the three staff manning the bar and the two security detail standing to attention.

“I guess to stop mobbing.” Lottie shrugged, then turned to me. She pulled the sides of my dress down, to the point where I knew I had out more cleavage than I usually would display—although I was the girl who took off her top today. Apparently, I wasn’t the usual me anymore. “Better.” She nodded, proud of her handiwork. My hands itched to pull my dress back up before I remembered that she was a stylist. Who was I to argue with that?

“The party has arrived!” Lottie threw her hands up in the air, sending a splash of beer over some unfortunate gyrater to our left.

“Kate.” Michael’s face was bright red, and I couldn’t help but smile. There was a girl grinding her hips against the arm of the couch next to him, but he looked as if he were trying to meld his body into the other arm of the chair. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here.

“So you’ve finally decided to live it up.” Xander stuck his head to the side so I could meet his gaze around the girl who was sitting on his lap. He pushed a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Sweetheart, get my girl here a drink, please.”

I threw my hands to my hips, my jaw dropping to the floor. Sure, my job was to fetch things, but for the band and for the purpose of shows! I was not his freaking servant, and I sure wasn’t being employed to line up drinks for whatever skank he took home that night. There was no way in hell I was—

“Okay.” Strawberry-Blonde slid off Xander’s leg and headed to the bar.

Overreacting.
I was overreacting.

He’d asked
her
to get a drink for
me
.

Xander chuckled and scooted over in his seat, patting the space next to him. “Come sit with Uncle Xan, Kate. I’ll look after you.”

“Like hell you will, man.”

I searched for the man behind those words and found him on the seat a few inches away from Xander’s, even though I knew who had spoken.
Lee-
freaking
-Collins.

“Kate’s-our … ’sistant. She isn’t here to … sex.” Lee slurred, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Glad you’re around to protect my virtue.” I walked over and sat in the seat next to Xander. Lee nodded in an over-pronounced fashion and I patted his hand, being careful not to touch any exposed skin on the blonde woman who was currently gyrating her crotch against Lee’s chest.

“I will.” Lee leaned forward, shouldering Blondie in the chest and grabbed my hand from where it rested on top of his, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss. “I’ll look after you.”

Something warm stirred inside my body and I had to pull my hand away.
He’s drunk, Kate. He’s really drunk.

“Hope a strawberry martini is okay.” Strawberry-Blonde handed me a wide, sugar-rimmed glass and I smiled. I was a little surprised; she seemed to actually be … nice. Weren’t all band sluts supposed to be bitches?

“Thanks.” I nodded.

“So, how are you liking the job so far?” Xander asked as Strawberry-Blonde resumed her gyrating.

“It’s pretty good.” I thought back over the last three weeks. It had been busy, sure, but I loved the challenge of thinking on the fly, of making sure everything worked out. “And you guys aren’t nearly as bad-arse as I was expecting.”

“I’m … baaaaad.” Lee’s head dropped as his tone did on the final word, causing his gyrater, who had regained her perch on his lap, to end up with a drunken man in her more than ample cleavage. Not that she seemed to mind.

Or at least, I presumed he was drunk. “He’s not on …”

“No! Hell no.” Xander shook his head vehemently. “Doesn’t touch the stuff. The guy barely takes ibuprofen, for Christ’s sake. ’Fraid he’ll end up like his old man.”

I took a sip of my martini. At least that was one thing I didn’t have to stress about, anymore.

Still, it reminded me that I hadn’t sent that email to Dad, and I made a mental note to finish it before I went to bed, or first thing when I woke up.

“There you are.” Lottie came dancing over and perched herself on my knee, wrapping an arm around my neck. She was light as a feather; I barely felt her weight.

“Partying hard tonight, Lotts?” Xander asked. There was something lurking in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was danger or desire.

“Sure am.” Lottie gave an infectious laugh, then turned her head to the side. “But not as hard as Lee.”

She leaned closer to him and wedged a finger between his chin and Gyrater’s boobs, lifting his head up. His eyes flickered open and he met her gaze, smiling. “Wasn’t doing anything.”

Lottie laughed and let his head flop back down. “Come dance.” She held out a hand for me and I took it, but as we moved together next to the railing, looking over it to check for guys on the floor, I couldn’t help but keep flicking my gaze back to Lee. He was really drunk;
ridiculously
drunk, and that girl was all but licking his face. And despite them not kissing, he was letting her! I hadn’t seen any reports in the tabloids about him being a crazy drinker, or engaging in public sex acts, or anything.
Does he always get like this?

Suddenly, my lack of partying seemed like a blessing in disguise. I think I preferred the sober singer.

“Do they always go this big?” I yelled to Lottie. She pulled me closer, dirty dancing with me, and I moved back just a little as her hands ran up my sides.

“Not always,” she yelled, her breath hot against my ear. “This is the biggest we’ve had this leg of the tour.”

When a guy I didn’t recognise wrapped his arms around Lottie’s waist and she leaned back appreciatively, I took my opportunity to leave. Now Lee was sitting with just his gyrating friend, Xander having disappeared to who knows where, no doubt with his lady friend.

I let myself fall into the comfy leather couch and turned just in time to see Lee’s friend sucking hard on his neck, one hand wrapped up in his hair, the other working its way into his pants. I widened my eyes. Was she for real? She was going to do this in
public?

Then I saw her pull his dick from his jeans.

Oh my God, she is going to do this in public.

I had to stop it. And I hated that it was for more than just the obvious reason.

“Lee.” I leaned over and gave his shoulder a shake, keeping my eyes firmly above crotch level. “Lee!” I shook again, but his head just lolled about. I didn’t even know if he could hear me.

It would be so easy to just leave them there right now, but I couldn’t do that. He’d hired me to look after him. And really, if I was being completely honest with myself?

I didn’t want anyone else to touch him.

The admission shocked even me. Lee Collins was arrogant, liked to tease me, and was way out of my league.

I pressed my eyes shut and thought of Lachlan again. Lachlan, the man who had saved me, pulled me deep from a depression I hadn’t been sure I’d recover from. He took me from rain to sunshine. That was how liking someone was supposed to feel.

Then why did Lee make me feel … squishy? Like there was something gooey and gelatinous inside my stomach, like my knees were having problems with that whole standing-up thing I’d been getting them to do?

I shook myself out of my reverie and focused on the one person I could easily remove from the situation. “Um, excuse me, lady, can you stop?”

I still refused to look down, but her arm was moving in a way that implied …

Sucking in a breath, I reached over to the table and grabbed what was left of my abandoned strawberry martini, then emptied it over her head. The gyrater looked at me, her bottom lip pouting, her brown eyes fiery.

“Bitch!” she shrieked, wiping the sticky liquid from her arms.

“Please leave.” I smiled sweetly, and even though the look she gave me was pure murder, she stormed off. I furrowed my brows. Who knew it would be that easy?

I looked left and right, but I couldn’t see Michael, couldn’t see anyone I knew. Spotting Sam at the bar, I yelled out and he came to my side, concern marring his forehead. “Everything okay?”

“Will you help me take him home?” I jerked my head in Lee’s direction, and chanced a quick glance. Now his head was resting against the couch behind him, his eyes still closed. I took the shortest of short looks down and saw his open pants, his briefs and—nope, not looking, back up to Sam’s face.
This cannot be the third time I see a real penis. Seriously.

Sam nodded and walked to the other side of the couch. He looked down briefly before gazing back up at me, and I could tell he’d seen it, too. “Are you going to …?”