She rolled her eyes. “I get it. I screwed up. I’m glad you and Adelaide worked it out. She’s good people. I don’t know how she came out like that with Saul Goodman as her father. There’s no question, she’s not her father’s daughter.”
“Is Saul giving you trouble?”
Ever since Saul’s last wife ran away with her bodyguard—who happened to be Ronan’s best friend and coworker—Saul Goodman had kept a short leash on TSC. He was a task master, and his demands for the band always went through Iris.
She waved me off. “No more than usual. Just a lot of blustering, and ‘if this tour doesn’t go well and lead to a zillion downloads, I don’t know if we can go forward with the European leg.’” She snorted. “As if they can cancel the whole goddamn European part of the tour.”
“I don’t like you having to deal with him. He shouldn’t even be talking to you,” I said.
She shrugged. “I really don’t give a fuck at this point. We’re in a good spot with our fans. So long as we stick together, we’re golden.”
I nodded. “I’m sticking.”
“Me too,” Roddy chimed.
Callum lifted his head from his phone. “Stuck.”
He was only on the bus for the first two stops. Wren and their son, Ezra, were joining the tour, and they would be traveling on their own bus. Sticking together would look a little different this time around.
And I didn’t know how to feel about that.
Roddy reached over and ruffled my hair. “Are you gonna miss your pal?”
I swatted the back of his head. “Are you gonna miss your wifey?”
He smirked. “My wifey aligned her tour with ours so we’ll be seeing each other as often as we can. But yeah, I’m gonna miss the hell out of her. When we get back, I’m putting a ring on it, making it all official.”
Rodrigo and Hope weren’t technically married, but they might as well have been. She was a musician too, of the electronic variety. I’d been by Roddy’s side while he’d chased her all over the world to her DJ gigs one summer. He’d been mad for her then. He was even crazier for her now.
Swinging my legs off him, I threw my arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “She’s gonna make an honest man out of you, Roddy?”
“That’s right. Then you’ll be the onlydishonest man left.”
I wiggled my fingers on his shoulder. “I’ll be the only one having fun.”
A roadie put a beer in one hand and took my guitar from my other. I rolled the cold bottle across my sweaty forehead, then tipped it back, swallowing half in one go.
“Jesus, we were good tonight.” I shook my head, my wet hair slapping my forehead.
Rodrigo slung his arm around my shoulder as we walked through the maze of backstage hallways to our dressing room. It had been a good night. Two weeks into our tour, we were having a lot of good nights. I didn’t even know what city we were in. Our schedule was so packed, I didn’t bother figuring it out.
“Are we going out tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Roddy said. “I’ve got a night out in me.”
In the beginning, he had talked a big game, but he was missing his girl. Hell, I was missingmygirl—and she wasn’t even really mine. We had a few hours before we moved onto the next stop, but spending them on the bus, doing nothing after the high of getting off stage, only heightened the loneliness.
We did our thing, had a couple more drinks, talked to press, then said goodbye to Iris and Callum before catching a ride to a club with some of the crew. On the way, I drank from a bottle of whiskey to take the edge off my adrenaline. By the time we arrived, I wasn’t feeling much pain.
We sat down in the VIP section of a club that looked like every other club I’d been to, and my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Adelaide Zala Goodman.
Baddie:Hey. You don’t have to reply right now, but I was thinking about you, so I thought I’d say hi. How was your show tonight?
Me:Hey, buddy. I’m out with Roddy. The show was tight. The night is young. What are you doing?
Baddie:Don’t text me while you’re out! Have fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow when you’re on another long bus ride.