With the Band (With the Band #1) Page 5

  “Dickheadish,” Texas offers.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s a good word for it. Just doesn’t sit right with me anymore. If I’m sleeping with someone, it’s because I want or need to get laid, not just because I want to have more than Cooper.”

  “Wow, you just went up in my estimation.”

  “Thanks. That doesn’t mean I don’t sleep with more women than him though.”

  “And back down you go again,” she mutters sarcastically. “I should just be a lesbian. Men are horrible.”

  “But you don’t like women.”

  Tex has one female friend, and that’s it. Peyton is cool though, not like many of the materialistic girls Tex grew up with.

  “Ugh, no, I don’t. I can’t deal with women-hating-on-women shit and who’s skinnier or prettier. Maybe I’ll just get cats.”

  “You’re allergic to the fur.”

  “God, Kitt, can’t you let me have anything?”

  I grin. “I’ll let you have something.”

  “Nice.”

  “Jäger bombs!” Milo shouts, interrupting everyone.

  Texas slumps back in her seat, knowing she’ll be allowed one shot—and that’s only if she bats her eyelashes at her dad for long enough.

  Last year, after performances and events, Mark started letting Tex stay out at after-parties with us because she’d turned eighteen. I saw a whole new side of her then. It’s what started my downward spiral, which ended with me kissing her like I was dying while dry-fucking her against her bedroom door.

  “Daddy,” she says, going straight in with the puppy-dog eyes and everything.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, pumpkin.”

  Their argument goes on for two rounds until he finally gives in, and she joins us for a few shots.

  I wouldn’t be able to say no to her either.

  And I have a feeling that’s going to screw me over.

  TEXAS

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 6

  CALAIS, FRANCE

  I wake up after napping for about three hours, and we’re in Calais. We still have a little over four hours until we arrive in Paris, but I’m happy to be here. It’s early—well, it’s 7 a.m., which is early for the entire lack of sleep I had yesterday. Or I should say, this morning.

  Rubbing my eyes, I head downstairs to make about a hundred coffees. Kitt and Will are the only ones already up, and they’re drinking beer around the table.

  Yeah, beer.

  “Seriously?” I say, reaching for the coffee.

  “Ninety percent of you is caffeine,” Kitt says.

  “Ninety percent of you is alcohol,” I reply. “What’s your point?”

  They both laugh, and Will cracks open another bottle. They’re crazy. By midday, they’re going to be dead.

  “Have either of you two actually slept?” I ask, putting the beans in the machine and flicking it on.

  Oh my God, I need caffeine so bad. My eyes are stinging because I’m so tired.

  “Be more specific,” Kitt replies, raising his eyebrow.

  “Have either of you slept in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “That would be a no.”

  And I see it. They’re both glossy-eyed and smiling. They’ve gone past the point of being tired, but the slight shadows under their eyes tell all. Kitt’s beautiful dark blue eyes are marred by a light redness, but he’s still perfect.

  Over the years, Will’s eyes, which were almost black, have lost some of their pigment and lightened. He thinks it’s cool and not at all due to the fact that he’s aging. Today, they look dark because he’s substituted sleep with beer.

  As well as his eyes lightening, Will’s black hair is starting to grey around the sides. Apparently, it’s a sign of a well-lived life. I call it too much alcohol and too many women.

  “You do know that you both have to be fully functioning humans today, right? We all have a club to be at tonight—which you need to remove my dad from early, Will. I’m cutting you off after that one, and you’re switching to coffee.”

  “God, she sounds like my mum,” Will teases. “And don’t worry. I’ll have him home nice and early, so you can do whatever it is you do when there’s no adult supervision.”

  His eyes flick to Kitt for a brief second, and my heart stops. But he wouldn’t dare say anything, and thankfully, it goes unnoticed by Kitt.

  “I don’t care if I sound like your mum. You two look like shit, and that will give a bad impression in the papers. We don’t want that. And thank you, Will. I won’t be too bad, promise.”

  “Don’t promise that, love. In your late teens and twenties, you’re supposed to be bad.” He gives me a wink and takes another swig of beer.

  Will looks a lot like Milo—dark hair, dark eyes—which is not surprising since the men in the Sterling family look similar.

  Will is like a surrogate dad—only, he’s much more laid-back about me having actual fun, and he is always telling my dad to lighten up and let me make my own mistakes. Will is into learning through experience, but if I ever needed him, I know he’d be there to pick up any pieces lying around.

  “I’ll have to remember that one for when I screw up and have to answer to my dad.”

  “Ouch, you’d throw me to the lions like that?”

  “Damn straight. He’s the one who has the power to stop my allowance.”

  Kitt laughs, knowing I don’t really care about money. “Tex, he could cut you off right now, and you’d still live a very comfortable life. Probably in a castle.”

  He’s right. My bank account is…well, seven figures. Unless I need new clothes, I think I spend about twenty pounds a week, and most of that is spent at Starbucks.

  “I might invest in a castle, you know,” I say. “Could be fun.”

  “You’re so spoiled,” he replies in jest.

  I shrug. “You know I’ll end up in a tiny flat. Less to clean.”

  “You won’t have staff?”

  “Piss off,” I say, throwing a small bottle of ketchup at him. It was the closest thing to me.

  Kitt catches it with no trouble and puts it down on the table. I watch the muscles in his arm flex and blush as Will lifts his eyebrow.

  Bugger. He caught me perving.

  Now that he knows, he’s going to do things like his little look constantly. I’ll really have to watch myself around him. It’s one thing if he thinks I have a little crush on Kitt, but it’d be something else if he knew just how deeply my feelings ran.

  “Sorry, Tex,” Kitt says, laughing.

  He’s not sorry at all, of course, but I let it go. I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t like the money because that’s crazy, but it’s not everything. Stuff doesn’t make you happy.

  The rest of the guys get up an hour later, and Jimmy cooks his famous bacon, cheese, and egg baguettes for everyone. Cooking on the bus is a little difficult since the kitchen is tiny, and with security there are eleven people, but we make it work. It’s better than some of the service-station crap, that’s for sure.

  We arrive at the hotel, and Carl is waiting. He’s also not a fan of the bus, so he flies wherever we go most of the time. Honestly, he and Jodie don’t know how to have fun. Getting up close and personal to rock stars—my dad and the old ones excluded, of course—is the best.

  Ted, head of my security, gets out in front of me and is immediately on high alert. He gets out his phone since he’s been liaising with the temp security team, who will be here…soon, I guess. He’s the head of Enigma and my security.

  Security has been stepped up because there are seven people who will most likely scatter, especially to and from after-parties. I try to ignore the extra people as much as I can because dwelling on my lack of privacy is a little depressing sometimes. It helps that Ted has been with me and Dad since I was nine, so he’s like family.

  Hank looks after Filthy Sound, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger man in my life. He has a buzz cut, no neck, and his muscles have muscles. If I didn’t know him, I’d b
e terrified.

  Carl gets us checked in, and we’re shown to our suites. Ted follows me until I’m in my room, and then he goes to his next door.

  My suite is massive, as usual. I’m the only one staying in here, and I have a large open-plan kitchen and living area and two bedrooms. Why do I need two bedrooms? When booking accommodation, I swear, the label just go with what they think I should have rather than what I actually need.

  There’s a loud bang on my door. I put my bag down on the bed and walk over to the door. Looking through the peephole, I see it’s Kitt.

  Damn, I bet I look a mess. I fluff my hair up, but there’s no time for anything else.

  I open the door and see his shocked expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tex, my room is bigger than my flat.”

  Bless, it’s his first time with this level of treatment.

  His eyes are wide, and I’m kind of surprised that he’s surprised. Filthy Sound signed a very good deal with the label, and Enigma is supporting them. Obviously, they weren’t going to be booked into a hostel.

  “Yep. Get used to it, rock star.”

  “The mini bar, which isn’t all that mini, is fully stocked, and I can have whatever I want…for free.”

  He’s so overwhelmed. I love it.

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He scratches his jaw. “Think I can eat and drink it all?” He sounds naughty, and it takes great effort on my part not to laugh.

  “Er, that’s what you’re supposed to do. I used to have contests with Dad, Will, and Jimmy to see who could finish theirs first. But you have to leave a note, or housekeeping will stock it right back up, and you’ll have to start again.”

  “I can have it all?”

  “Kitt, you’re expected to have it all. You know, you have to stop this uncertainty. It’s very un-rock star of you.”

  He grins, and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

  Oh, wow, he really thought he’d be in trouble for racking up a bill on the room. I doubt anyone even looks at the bill. It’s just paid because the label make a killing off of Enigma and they want to keep everyone happy.

  Well, actually, my dad used to look at mine to see if I’d consumed any alcohol, so I would go to a shop and buy it. Thankfully, he’s eased off that now.

  Kitt leans against the doorframe, and his posture changes drastically. Gone is the shy uncertainty from a few minutes ago, and the old him is now back, smirking.

  “So, can I come in? Or are you busy?”

  I step aside. “Not busy. I was just about to get started on the chocolate.”

  “Do you have the mini bar bet on?”

  “We’ve not said, but you can never be too careful. It takes me longer to finish it, so it’s good for me to get a head start. Want to help?”

  I’ve let him in again. He unknowingly hurt me earlier with the women talk. I should be trying to maintain some sort of distance. Instead, I’m inviting him in to share my food and drink. I can’t help myself, and it’s kind of annoying.

  He’s annoying.

  And beautiful.

  And I’m in love with him.

  You need help!

  “Want to grab some drinks, and I’ll get the junk food?” I say. “We have to meet with Carl at seven p.m. though, and after that, you guys are on the radio. You can’t be drunk for that.”

  “Noted. Five beers, max.”

  Five? I’d be on the floor after three.

  I give him a smile. At least there are only six beers here, so all I need to do is drink two. “I’m cutting you off at three,” I say. “Jodie will not be happy if I let you get drunk before the interview.”

  “And you’re her assistant manager now?”

  “No, I’m just helping. I’m good at organising your lazy arses.”

  “You are.”

  He steps into my personal space – and I would gladly share more of it with him in bed, too. His eyes are serious, and they’re already dragging truths out of me.

  “But do you enjoy it, Tex?”

  I shrug. “I guess I do. I’m good at it, and it’s nice to feel useful while I’m here. When I was in full-time education, I didn’t feel like a freeloader. Now, I’m an adult and trying to work out what the hell it is I want to do with my life. I’d feel like a bum if I wasn’t contributing.”

  Kitt frowns. He wants to tell me I shouldn’t feel that way, but he can’t because it’s true. There are plenty of people who would be happy to live off their daddy’s money forever. I’m not one of them. I mean, I already have a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to earn my own or do something more than be his daughter to deserve it.

  “You know I’m right. Please do what I say, so I don’t feel like the early Jennifer.”

  My mother followed Enigma around, so she could sleep with my dad and get drunk off his money.

  I won’t be a groupie. I won’t be a groupie.

  Obviously, I’m not talking about my dad here because vom, but you know what I mean.

  “You’re nothing like her. You could never do what she did.”

  “You know, I’m not even angry about her leaving me. Well, I am, but I can understand her being too young and not ready, but not once has she apologised or even tried to talk to me about it. Who does that? I’d be totally happy if she just acknowledged our past.”

  “She’s probably scared to. I can’t imagine it’s something she’s proud of.”

  “I hope not. I’m her daughter though. Shouldn’t she love me more than she wants to save face?”

  He shrugs and takes a swig of beer. I watch his lips circle the bottle.

  Stop perving. You can’t do it subtly.

  I force myself to look away because I really am horrible at admiring Kitt’s form without staring.

  “Why don’t you bring it up to her?”

  Oh no. No, no. “That’s never going to happen. I think I would rather chop off a limb with a rusty saw. I’ve never done touchy-feely with Jennifer, and we don’t talk. She’s not someone I can talk to, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable opening up about how she made me feel over the years. Besides, it’s over now. I’m all grown-up.”

  “It’s not over. You might be older now, but it’s not something that’ll disappear. It’s a conversation you should have with her.”

  “Maybe.”

  He smirks. “You’re not going to, are you?”

  “Not unless hell freezes over.”

  “Chicken.”

  I shove his shoulder in good spirit. “Bugger off!”

  “Only trying to help. You only get one mum, Tex.”

  Cringing inwardly, I put my beer down and twist to face him. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  “No, it’s okay. It was a long time ago, and I’m all right.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Don’t. Neither of us has had nearly enough alcohol for this conversation. You meant nothing by it, and neither did I. My parents died, and growing up without them was hard, but I have the best grandparents. I didn’t miss out, and I’m not messed up, so please don’t stress. Although, if you’re feeling bad, I know one way you can make it up to me.”

  I lift my eyebrow, waiting, and Kitt grins. His eyes are lit with mischief.

  “You could take your top off. No one is unhappy after seeing tits.”

  “And here I was, thinking we were having a deep and meaningful conversation.”

  “There’s nothing shallow or meaningless about your breasts.”

  Yep, moment over. It was nice while it lasted.

  I don’t know how he can change between Serious Kitt and Jokey-Slutty Kitt in a nanosecond. And he only does it around me—that I’ve noticed anyway. I don’t tend to watch him when he’s flirting with other women because it makes me feel sick.

  “Yeah, thanks. Drink your beer, and then we should get Milo and Cooper before the meeting.” My voice is icy, and although I want to be better at concealing how I feel, I don’t really care this time. />
  “What’s up your arse?” he asks. “It was only a joke.”

  “Why is everything a joke to you?”

  Oh my God, Texas, shut the fuck up! What are you doing? Christ, sometimes, you have no filter between your brain and mouth.

  I really don’t want to do this with Kitt.

  It’s okay. Keep calm, and laugh it off. You can do this. Bring it back to a normal conversation. Stay cool.

  He rears back in shock, and his eyebrows flick up. “I don’t think everything is a joke. What just happened, Texas? One minute, you’re cool, and the next, you’re acting like my pissed off wife!”

  Oh, he did not just joke about that.

  I grit my teeth as my body heats with anger.

  Bastard!

  “I am not acting like your bloody wife! You’re not even planning on getting married, idiot. You just want to shag your way through all the women.”

  So, apparently, you can’t do cool. Nice one.

  “I have no idea what my fucking future holds, but of course, I don’t want a fucking wife yet! What the fuck does it matter to you anyway?”

  Oh God, he’s dropping F-bombs all over the place. I’ve really done a fabulous job at messing this up.

  He slams the bottle down on the table, and beer rushes out the top and spills over the side. “Fuck, Tex!”

  I’m stunned into silence. His breathing is heavy, and he looks half-mad and half-confused. We stare at each other, neither of us knowing exactly how we got here or what to do next. Kitt’s eyes are intense, and I feel naked under their scrutiny.

  I don’t know if he’s angry still or if he wants to kiss me. He’s flitting through so many emotions so quickly that I can’t figure him out.

  Taking a deep breath, he shoves his hands through his hair, closes his eyes, and groans, like he’s been worn down. “I don’t want to do this with you. Not you,” he grumbles.

  “Neither do I. We shouldn’t argue,” I whisper.

  We shouldn’t argue because we have no reason to. But we often find ourselves like this. It’s stupid.

  If we’re nothing and he only wants us to be friends, then why does it feel like more to me?

  I shouldn’t build dreams around a fantasy. At the moment I don’t know if he wants anything more.

  Kitt places his hand over mine, and I take in a sharp breath. I feel alive every time his skin touches mine. It’s an intense charge that heats my whole body and makes me want us to be more. So, so much more.