Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Hear that?” Brittany says as she settles into her seat and the van starts rolling. “I’ll be sending reports. Don’t give me a reason to say anything bad about you.”
Jordan barks out a laugh. “You never have anything good to say about anything.”
She tips her head back, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as if praying for strength. I train my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me so I can stop thinking about her neck.
“What’s this shitty music?” Jordan says, looking around for the source.
Brittany picks up a remote and turns it off. “As we set out, I want to review the agenda. You may already know some of this, but tonight you’ll be performing at a bar called Cubby’s. It will be a good place to ease into the tour. The venue isn’t very large, but they have a stage and bring in performers on the weekends.”
Owen’s looking at Brittany, and I’m looking at a spot slightly above her head, so I don’t have to notice how her blue sweater makes her brown eyes look brighter. Colin and Jordan are looking at their phones, completely ignoring her. Jordan leans over to show something to Colin while Brittany tells us about the bar’s capacity.
“Guys, give me just a minute,” she says, raising her voice.
Colin doesn’t even look up when he says, “You’ll need more than just a minute with me, babe. I’ll keep you going all night.”
Brittany’s head falls back again and she lets out a long exhale. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Forget about it.”
I close my eyes and lean back in my seat. I wonder if there’s a coffeemaker anywhere in this van, but maybe it would be better to get some rest while I can. If I have to share a hotel room with the other guys tonight, they’ll probably keep me up all hours. Maybe I’d have found out about our rooming arrangements if Colin and Jordan had let Brittany talk.
When I next open my eyes, after drifting off at some point, there are loud voices and music, which I quickly realize are coming from the TV above Brittany’s seat. Jordan has the remote in hand and is flipping through channels.
Brittany pulls earbuds out and gives him an impatient look. “Can you turn the volume down, please? I’m trying to listen to an audiobook.”
“Look, Brittle Britt,” he says, gesturing to himself and the rest of us guys, “we’re the whole reason this tour exists. Your job is to keep us happy.”
“C’mon back here,” Colin calls. “Pull down my zipper and make me happy.”
I give him a long look, wanting to make sure he’s actually an adult and not a thirteen-year-old boy with those remarks.
Brittany marches over to Jordan, takes the remote, and turns the volume down herself. “Don’t ever imagine that you’re not easily replaceable.” As she says this, her eyes briefly meet mine, and ouch. It sounds like a direct message about our night together rather than a threat about the tour.
I didn’t want anything more from her after that night — well, except maybe one more night — but it surprises me that the sex was apparently nothing special to her. It was way, way above average from my point of view.
She puts her earbuds back in and ignores us, and I do my best to ignore her, reminding myself that I’m just here to take my clothes off on stage, flex my muscles, and get paid. Brittany is a complication I wasn’t expecting, but I can handle it, even though my cock is trying to make things difficult.
Is it weird that watching her yell at Colin and Jordan almost gets me hard? I never knew I had a thing for feisty women; my fiance was nothing like Brittany.
9
ZANE
We arrive at Cubby’s in the early afternoon with plenty of time to do our rehearsal before they open, but Brittany looks stressed about our schedule. “We’ll check into the hotel after the show,” she tells us as we pull luggage that contains our costumes from the back of the van.
She tugs out a bag that’s much too heavy for her and almost stumbles backward to the curb.
“Here, I got it.” I lift the bag from her shoulder and sling it over mine.
“Thanks,” she says stiffly, giving me a look that tells me she’d prefer that I keep my distance. Maybe she’s still thinking about my slip-up this morning.
Once we’re inside the bar, Brittany goes off with the club’s manager, while a guy leads us four to what appears to be a storage room that’s been converted into a makeshift dressing room. There isn’t much space, but there are a couple of mirrors and enough empty flat surfaces for us to lay out our costumes.
As we’re sorting stuff out, Jordan nudges my arm. “Hey, have you really banged Brittany?”