Page 14 of Noah
They definitely didn’t get to go on the road with rock bands.
And honestly, the idea had me drooling. I’d already been to my apartment–a tiny affair in Santa Monica–and had stayed long enough to realize it didn’t feel anything like home. No room surrounded by too many boys I’d known for too long, and no smell of barbecue drifting through the window. No country music coming from the bar down the street.
No Matt or Rivers or Hudson.
No Noah.
Who hadn’t bothered to call, text, or email to see how I was or whether I was okay. I hadn’t received anything asking whether I’d made it to LA and found my apartment. I could have met a serial killer on the way and be dead by now, for all he knew.
None of the guys had bothered checking in.
That didn’t stop me from missing them, and my life on the road. I loved LA… but I didn’t really want to stay here, learning the ropes and living in that apartment. I was homesick for my town and my boys, though I’d never admit it to anyone else. True, I’d been homesick before and I’d survived it. And this time, I reminded myself, I was doing it for the job of a lifetime. I’d chosen to come here and do this, and now I was complaining?
“Sissy,” I muttered.
Still, if that career was going to send me out on the road again, following a band as they went from town to town catering to an ever changing audience…
With me taking pictures of the whole thing…
I mean, this was the career I’d chosen, right? If they’d wanted me to stay in LA, I would have. If they were going to send me out in the field and introduce me to a new band…
Well, it sounded just about perfect. Like going home–or at least to a situation that felt like home. Out on the road again, surrounded by music and lights and the excitement of the stage. It might not have the boys I loved, and it might include fewer tattoos and less cigarette smoke. But it was for my career.
And that did a whole lot for my already-soaring confidence.
8
MOLLY
“So what exactly did you do out there on the road with all those guys?”
The guy next to me slid my beer closer to my hand and looked down at me like he was staring at some sort of interesting kitten.
I didn’t like the look he was giving me. But I did like the tight t-shirt, equally tight jeans, and movie star good looks. He had tousled blond hair and wide green eyes. Dimples that any girl back home would have killed for.
And he was sitting next to me.
I tossed a glance over my shoulder to make sure the girls from the office were still there, and Dana, the girl who’d taken me under her wing, gave me a jaunty wave and a wink. I grinned back at her, feeling like I was somehow floating. This was unreal. I was sitting at a bar in LA with a bunch of new friends, listening to music they never would have played in Nashville and celebrating my first week on a brand new job. And the hottest guy in the bar had just bought me a beer.
I had gone from tomboy roadie for a band full of her brothers to hot new girl in the office.
Okay, maybe not hot. But definitely new girl that other people wanted to hang out with. And it all felt so natural, like this was how my life was meant to go. New friends. New home. New city. I was growing and shining like I’d never done before, and it was easy. Everything was sunny here. No smoke or shadows to creep in from the corners and ruin things. No Noah with his expectations about who and what I was and always would be.
No confusion. No mixed messages.
Honestly, I kind of liked it.
“Whatever they asked me to,” I told the guy honestly. “Moved equipment. Made sure they got to meetings on time. Kept their calendars clean.”
He bumped my shoulder with his and smiled suggestively. “And their beds warm? I’ve heard about roadies on tour with a bunch of guys.”
My hands curled into fists at the implication that I’d been sleeping with any of them. Those were my brothers he was talking about. Okay, not really my brothers, but even so. I wasn’t there to sleep with them.
Except when I occasionally fell asleep in Noah’s bed. And that was actual sleeping.
Instead of saying any of that, I gave him a sly smile of my own. “You’ve obviously never been on tour. You’re confusing roadies with groupies.”
At this, his brow creased, making him even more handsome. “What’s the difference?”
