The door blows open again and Alabama glances up in time to see Brian Rodgers, Griff’s cousin and tour manager, barging onto the bus. In his hands, he carries Griff’s duffel bag and guitar case.
At the sight of Brian, Alabama inhales a steeling breath. Brian’s always been a slimy little weasel. Even in high school, he was always a hanger-on, jealous of Griff, trying to lurk in his shadow. It was never Griff’s fault; Brian just never had the drive. All he was was a hall monitor with a hard-on for power.
And a hard-on for Alabama too, apparently. Junior year, homecoming, he cornered her after the dance. Alabama promptly kneed him in the balls when he went in for a kiss. She never told Griff, not wanting to hurt their relationship, which supposedly has stood the test of time. She’s heard Brian’s the only one who hasn’t quit on Griff, or faced his drunken wrath.
Brian nods solemnly at Alabama. He wears a Griff Greyson T-shirt two sizes too small, the thin fabric stretched tight around his paunchy stomach. “Alabama. Good to see you.”
Alabama flashes a tight smile, tucking away the childhood memories. Clean slate, right? Although, it does give her a smug sense of satisfaction to see him doing Griff’s grunt work. “Hey, Bri. Long time.”
Brian’s face breaks into a broad grin. “No doubt. Hey, look it, we got the Clover gang back together.”
Griff smears a hand over his face, his expression pained. “Christ, Bri.”
Brian looks at Griff. “Nikki followin’ us on the road?”
Alabama’s body goes rigid.
“Guess so,” Griff says with a two-shoulder shrug. “She’s got a car, she’s comin’. Not like I can stop her.”
Brian chuckles. “Man, that’s a woman approachin’ stalker status if I’ve ever seen one.”
“I’m afraid stalker status is my job, Brian.”
The feminine British voice sneaks up on them and Alabama glances toward the doorway.
Freddie, the manager she had met earlier this morning, stands as starched as a shirt in the doorway, looking like she’s ready to deliver last rites.
Griff stretches his arms out across the top of the couch, his hands opening up in greeting. “Hell, Freddie, you hitchin’ a ride?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No. I am here to give a few house rules before I go. It’s in your contract, but since no one ever reads the bloody things, I am here to reiterate. And Brian is here to keep you two in check.”
Freddie’s eyes scan the room. “Now ...” She smooths an invisible wrinkle on the front of her silk skirt. “While you are allowed a commotion or two, Griff, it is of the utmost importance that you stay out of trouble. You stay out of jail. You work on that temper of yours.”
Griff lifts his hands in mock offense. “Why am I gettin’ all the flack?”
“Maybe it’s because you do all the flack?” Alabama quips, not even bothering to play nice.
Griff rolls his eyes, his tattooed biceps flexing as he crosses his arms and kicks a boot up on his knee, apparently deciding to settle in for Freddie’s lecture.
Freddie’s laugh is a delicate burst. “Oh, you’re delightful,” she says, her brown eyes swerving to Alabama, sinking into her like fangs. “And you ... you sing. You just do what you’ve always done.”
Griff listens from his perch on the couch. He smirks, bored, all bad boy machismo, but the grin doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his spine’s gone stiff from Freddie’s words, as if another feeling’s overtaken him entirely.
Alabama’s eyes narrow. What is it? Guilt, anger, annoyance?
And then she’s hit by another thought. Is it all an act? The outlaw cowboy image? Firing guns onstage? Burning guitars? She can’t tell anymore. Couldn’t pick the real Griff Greyson out of a line-up if she tried.
Griff’s eyes lift to hers. “What?”
His voice sharp, cool.
She clears her throat and looks away, embarrassed at being caught staring. “Nothin’.”
“And remember ...” Freddie’s crisp voice cuts through the tension. “You throw a fist or you miss a show, you’re done. That goes for both of you. Is that clear?”
Griff smirks, tucking his lank blond hair behind his ears. “Crystal.”
Brian, taking that as his cue, launches into an endlessly long description of the tour and what they’ll be doing and where they’ll be singing and who they’ll be meeting on every stop.