Page 110 of Darcy
“Me!” I scream at the top of my lungs, making all four of them jump. “Wait. No. I mean, only if everyone is cool with that, because I imagine DP has a lot of potential for accidental sword touching, and—”
Slate whoops, hops over the back of the sofa between us, and hooks me around my waist. His mouth descends on mine, drinking me in like he’s been dying of thirst.
“Mmmm,” I moan, as he draws back. “What was that for?”
“For bringing our brother back to us.” His breath whispers over my lips, the words quiet enough that the others can’t hear. “You’re a miracle,angelita.”
“Stop fantasising about our dicks touching and come have some breakfast,” Arlo says, heading towards the small kitchenette. “There’s mostly cereal—” My grimace as he turns around with the box of cornflakes stops him short. “No cereal?”
“Cereal often has less nutritional value than the cardboard box it comes in, and cornflakes were invented to stop people masturbating,” I begin, donning a false air of haughtiness. “A lot of them contain more sugar than a doughnut, and doughnuts taste better, so…”
My hatred of puritanical breakfast runs deep, and I trail off when I realise I might’ve unintentionally put a little too much vitriol into my response.
“I’ll just… put this back.” Arlo edges away from me with a grin.
“Was that you saying you want doughnuts for breakfast, baby girl?” Dodger asks, grabbing his phone.
“Of course. But it’s all true. You can look it up.”
Slate shrugs. “Don’t need to. I believe you.”
Dodger rings someone, putting in an order for our doughnuts, then drops his phone to the couch.
“Have you got everything you need?”
I nod. “Yep.”
Once I finish setting up, I can dive back into Gabrielle’s files without her noticing and find a new date when the Rosales brothers will be together in one place.
Hopefully, I’ll get another chance before the tour finishes.
I don’t say any of this aloud. The guys’ rooms are still bugged, and I took a big risk removing the cameras the last time. So instead, I say nothing and allow myself to simply enjoy the feeling of being around the band when they’re not at each other’s throats.
I’m still smiling and covered in powdered sugar as I wander into the arena, only to find the place in chaos.
Without Sully, things are slowly but surely falling apart. Gabrielle is trying to keep order, but she’s the tour manager’s assistant, not the production manager. She’s also naturally quiet, so her words are mostly ignored by the bunch of louder, taller men around her.
“Hey,” I snap at the group of them. “Back off and listen to her so we can get shit done before the band gets here.”
Gabrielle shoots me a grateful look, then proceeds to quickly and efficiently outline Sully’s plan, altered slightly to account for the quirks of the new venue. The more she talks, the more the bristling settles as it becomes clear she’s got this.
By the time the group disperses, they’re nodding amongst themselves and ready to work.
“Thanks,” Gabrielle says. “Ugh, I thought they’d never shut up.”
“You’d have got them to listen eventually,” I reply, shrugging off her thanks.
I didn’t do it for her. I did it because I didn’t want the guys to turn up to a venue in chaos. They give their all on that stage for the sake of their fans. The least the rest of us can do is the same.
“Yeah.” She sighs like she doesn’t believe me, then actively flinches as Miguel’s voice snaps across backstage like a whip.
“This place is a fucking mess. Where is Gabrielle?”
“Coming!” she squeaks, heading in his direction without even pausing to say goodbye to me.
Shit. Well, there goes the interim production manager. Surely Miguel can’t expect her to do Sully’s job and her own? The team needs someone in charge more than he needs her to hang on his every word.
I have my own stuff to get done, but if he doesn’t send her back in the next half an hour, then someone else is going to have to step up.
