Not Another Player

9.Respectable Places

Return of the Mack // Mark Morrison

A week later the entire crew has a long layover in town. The tour is on hiatus for two nights. A gift. Everyone gets a break, including roadies. We've been working practically nonstop. I haven't had another second with Char since I was a stowaway on her silver bullet. I have a feeling she's avoiding me. But tonight, that all changes.

The crew and some of the band are out at a club on our first night off. No Zack or Bree. They stayed in. Lovey-dovey bastards. Some C1 guys—Alex and Seth—and a few of us roadies are in the VIP section. I'm sitting on a lounger, sipping a draft beer and watching Char.

We'd had a stare off at the door of her silver bullet days ago before she acquiesced, sitting down to talk to me. She agreed to repair my image by being seen with me, in public, without me being any kind of a player. She's supposed to tell me when I'm doing whatever it is she thinks I do that create rumors keeping me from getting roles. I told her in return, I'd help her to get over the incident she still hasn't fully explained. I'd help her have some fun, unwind. She rolled her eyes but shook my hand anyway. She may not admit it out loud, but she knows she needs to let her hair down.

I found myself looking at her and wondering how we'd gotten to that point. The point where she was almost willing to talk to me about the deep things. I was used to the banter, used to the distance she kept herself from me, the wall she put up. Seeing Char let those walls down and trust me, even with the sliver I got, changed something between us. I'm looking at her through a new lense.

When I asked about her brother, about what fueled him to attack Curt, she glared at me.

"It wasn't an attack," she'd said. The heat behind her eyes surprised me, even though it shouldn't have. The heat is what draws me to her, I've just never seen it behind her eyes and not directed at me. This heat had nothing to do with me and my ignorance about the incident. It had everything to do with whatever was going on that she didn't want to say.

I pushed a little more.

"Then what was it? Talk to me, Char." That plea was enough to soften her a fraction. Enough for her to open just a crack.

"That was my brother defending my honor." But that's all she would to say. Even when I waited in stilted silence for her to continue.

Doesn't matter what. Now that I know a hint of the why I'm just biding my time to push Ryan or Alex on this a little deeper. Something isn't sitting right. And I need to know what it is. Brothers don't attack random guys for no reason. What did Curt do to her? I don't like the thoughts swirling through my head in answer to the question, and I don't like how I imagine reacting to the truth. I might just go find Curt myself, deal with him on my terms.

I shake the thoughts away, glancing at her across the club.

She's here as a babysitter. At least, that's the impression I got when she rolled her eyes once we told her where we were going. She bitched about the noise and needing to get work done the entire way here. Even after I reminded her it was part of our agreement. I take her on a date every extended stop of this tour.

With music blaring and the entire club vibing to it, I watch Char from my seat on the lounger. She's at a high top, phone out responding to emails. Looking at her in this setting, working like a corporate fucker, pisses me off. Most of us are dressed to party. I'm in my nicest jeans and a black t-shirt that fits like a glove. I worked hard for the biceps. Might as well show them off. But Char's all business, dress slacks with high gloss heels and a silky blouse that covers everything up. At least she got the color right. Something about red on this spicy redhead is perfect for her. It's the woman I know she is deep down. Someone I haven't seen in a while.