Life On Stage: Beat Part 14

"Sure. No problem. I'll go back out right now."

"Thanks, ma'am, we appreciate that," the security guard says.

Mom goes back out onto the stage and starts talking to the crowd about what her next song means to her. I follow the security guard.

"Sir."

He turns around.

"What happened? Did someone get injured?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Young guy. Heart attack. Just keeled over in his seat. Doesn't look good."

Somehow, in the pit of my stomach, I just know. My life forever changed tonight. And it wasn't just from my debut on stage.

Chapter Sixteen.

Flynn

I've never been a morning person. I might rise at the a.s.s crack of dawn, but that doesn't mean I look forward to being awake. Most days after my eyes see the first rays of daylight, I pull the blanket over my head and try my d.a.m.nedest to go back to sleep.

But not today. I'm looking forward to having coffee. At six in the morning. And the f.u.c.ked-up thing is, I wish I were back on the bus. I've come to look forward to seeing those thin little s.h.i.+rts that Lucky wears to bed. Chances are, she's going to cover up before heading downstairs to the lobby for her coffee.

I throw on a pair of sweats, t-s.h.i.+rt, knit hat and some sungla.s.ses to s.h.i.+eld my ident.i.ty as much as I can. Word got out that Easy Ryder was staying at this hotel, and last night the place was flooded with groupies when Mick and I came back from dinner. A few even recognized me. Mick, of course, happily indulged. Last I saw him before I called it a night, he had a blonde on each knee at the bar. And his bed hadn't been touched when I got up this morning. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't bring the party back to our room.

Despite the fact that Lucky had just casually mentioned that the lobby lounge serves coffee beginning at six a.m., I'm pretty sure of myself that she'll be down there. But when I step off the elevator, the lobby is quiet. Empty. The coffee urns are just being set up in the lounge. I pour two mugs, make them just as we like it, and settle on one of the couches on the far side of the room where it's private, yet I can still keep an eye on the door.

I grab a newspaper and begin to flip through to kill time. Then my eyes catch a pair of pink-painted toes in flip-flops. I don't know why, but it's in this moment that I realize, I'm f.u.c.ked.

The sight of her toes makes me smile.

I'm falling for another guy's girl. Something I promised myself I'd never do.

But then I reason with myself. I haven't done anything wrong. Thinking a woman is beautiful and spending time with her doesn't have to turn into anything, right? They're just toes after all. But look how cute they are. I've never been a foot guy, yet I wouldn't mind sucking... Stop. Just stop. We're just friends.

Because I've been friends with so many hot women in the past and not f.u.c.ked them? Yep. I'm screwed. I need to get the h.e.l.l out of here.

"Good morning," she whispers and smiles down at me. My eyes lazily travel up from her toes.

I'm totally not going anywhere.

I hold up her mug of coffee. And then I realize she still has the thin s.h.i.+rt she wears to sleep on and I'm eye-level with the s.e.xiest taut nipples I've ever seen.

Screw sucking her toes... "Certainly is." I grin.

We spend nearly three hours in the lobby lounge, drinking coffee and turning the pairs of words for my song into sonnet verses. The only reason we decide it's time to leave is because we need to get ready to leave again. The tour manager got us access into the arena at noon so I could practice the new techniques Lucky showed me up on stage. And today Lucky is getting her a.s.s up on that stage if I have anything to do about it.

My phone buzzes as I step from the shower. The face flas.h.i.+ng on the screen makes me smile. I wrap a towel around my waist and answer it before it goes to voicemail.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Hi, Uncle Sinn!" Laney screams. She's got it in her head that she needs to talk louder when people are farther away. My sister can't convince her otherwise. I actually hold the phone away from my ear when I answer, knowing she's already drilled Becca on how far away I am. Long car ride equals loud; plane equals screaming. I hear my sister yelling from somewhere in the background, "I told you, Laney, you don't have to yell. He hears you just like as if you are sitting next to him."

"Hi, beautiful. How are you?"

Laney spends the next five minutes telling me all the songs she learned on her new karaoke machine. Lady Gaga, One Direction, Taylor Swift. My sister's music taste is like mine-rock, blues, a little Johnny Cash-definitely not Top 100 pop charts. She must be ready to kick my a.s.s.

By the time Laney decides to hand the phone to her mother, I'm pretty sure my niece must be tinted a lovely shade of blue. Not one pause for a breath in five minutes. My sister needs to introduce commas and periods to our little princess.

Bec and I catch up. The last time we talked, I didn't even have all the details about filling in for Linc yet. "So, when do I get to meet her?"

"Who?"

"The girl you're crazy about."

"What are you talking about?"

"You sound normal. The only time you sound normal is when there's a woman you're trying to impress."

"Normal? What the h.e.l.l does that even mean?"

"Are there any women in your room right now?"

"No."

"Did you go to sleep before midnight?"

"Yeah. I was wiped out."

"Look around the room, are there empty beer cans all over?"

I scan the room. Not one. "No."

"Have you showered already today?"

"Yes."

"Normal. You're acting like a regular person instead of a rockstar."

"Whatever, Bec. I'm just trying to make a good impression with the new band, that's all."

"What are you doing now?" My sister is a bloodhound. If she thinks I'm hiding something, she doesn't stop sniffing until she finds it.

"I'm going to meet my voice coach and head over to the arena to work on some things."

"Is your voice coach a woman?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

"Lucky. Why?"

"The same Lucky you had Laney dedicate a song to?" she says with a tone that tells me she thinks she's figured out the puzzle she's been trying to solve.

"You need to get a life, Bec. You spend way too much time a.n.a.lyzing me." And, s.h.i.+t, you know me so well.

"That's actually why I was calling. I went through the tour schedule that you emailed, and I was thinking maybe we could fly out for the Austin show next week. I've been promising Alana that we'd come to visit, and since Professor Douchebag gave me a decent-size guilt check instead of coming to his own daughter's birthday party, I have some extra cash."

I love that I have even her calling her ex Professor Douchebag. "That would be great. We're there for three nights, and one of the days is a big festival. I'll book a suite at the hotel they put us up at."

"Laney is going to be so excited. You can get us tickets to the show, right?"

"Sure."

"Will Lucky still be there?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Because I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"Good-bye, Bec," I say in a warning tone.

"Good-bye, Flynn," she says in that singsongy way.

The blond manager is slightly less aggressive when we arrive at the arena today. Although, she does mention she'll be at the show tonight if I need anything. Her smile makes it clear that anything includes f.u.c.king. I already tossed her card in the garbage when I emptied my pants pockets yesterday.

"So, you wanna go first or should I?" I ask Lucky as we enter the ma.s.sive seating area. It's transformed since only yesterday. The stage is set up for tonight's show. The floor level is filled with red cus.h.i.+oned folding chairs, and a VIP area with new seating has been installed and sectioned off with velvet ropes.

"I was thinking. I don't think I should skip step five. What if step five is critical to my overall success and I fail after going through all this work, just because of poor neglected step five?" She's teasing, but it's obvious there's real fear in her voice.

"You're going to be fine. I'll be right here with you." I put my hands on her shoulders and speak into her eyes, trying to rea.s.sure her.

"But..."

"We got this."

"But..."

"What's step five, Lucky?"

"I have to write a letter?"

"Step five is a writing a.s.signment?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's sit down. We can knock it out quick. We wrote three sonnets before our second cup of coffee." I smile at her. "We're a good team."

"That gets you whatever you want normally, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"The dimples. The smile. The..." She waves her hand up and down my body, frustrated. "The whole hot-guy package."

"You think I'm hot?" I grin.

She rolls her eyes. "Can we get back to the point, please?"

"You mean a point other than you think I'm hot," I tease.

"Seriously. That smile probably gets you laid all the time. But it is not getting me up on that stage."

"Are you offering to have s.e.x with me rather than go up on the stage?"

She blushes. "You're in a mood today, aren't you?"

"I'm always in the mood."

She smacks my abs playfully and I grab her hand. "Seriously, Lucky. I want to help. If you really don't want to get up there, I won't push. But I think you want to. For some reason, I think you need to. And I think you need me to push. I get the feeling no one has pushed you for eight years and, you know what, everyone needs that someone who will be that person for them."

Our gazes hold and I watch as her eyes soften. "Thank you," she says.

"Anytime." And, oddly, I really mean it. Any d.a.m.n time.

She nods. "How about we work on your performance first. I want your voice to have as long of a rest as it can before you sing tonight."

"Whatever you say, teach."

She shakes her head and chuckles. "How about showing me what we talked about yesterday. Did you get a chance to practice?"

"I did."

She squints, not believing me. But the truth is, I stood in front of the mirror and practiced singing the d.a.m.n song with my mouth and neck in the position she wants me in. If only I'd put in this much effort in school. Then again, my teachers never looked like Lucky.

Gently push. It's an odd saying. Can you really gently push someone? And does it even matter if you were gentle or not when the end result is the same? I pushed him over a cliff, so what that he went careening to his untimely death...it was a gentle push. I seriously doubt the last thing that goes through your mind before your brain is splattered all over the ground is, I forgive him, it was a gentle push. Yet here I am, pus.h.i.+ng anyway.