“Cool. Thanks.” A genuine smile stretches across my lips at his compliment. I didn’t mean to get creative, but I couldn’t help myself. The beat on Hunger is more tedious than a 90’s punk hit. I’m not here to make waves or step on toes, but with each show I feel drawn to make the music mine with little changes, ones most people won’t even notice. Sean’s blessing to go ahead to do just that makes me feel more a part of the band and less a temporary stand-in.
Sean glances to where Bedo taps his foot. “If that one gives you any trouble, let us know.” A cloud of impatience surrounds my uncle like the plague.
“It’s all good,” I reassure Sean and then cross the stage, hopping off to meet Bedo by the floor chairs. I don’t need to draw suspicion to these little chats so I keep my body language relaxed even though I’m more than annoyed. “You rang?”
My uncle’s jaw ticks and his gaze flits to the farthest edge of the stage where the guys exit. He waits until they clear his view before speaking. “Look, I’ve been tolerant of our little arrangement, but you need to give me something.”
Something.He’s digging for info on Opal. I have enough to get him off my back for a while, but there’s something about her I can’t quite name and I can’t bring myself to turn her over. Not yet. But I have to say something. I won’t give this all up, not when I’m just getting started. I can’t imagine going home.
“She’s closed off. Private. Keeps away from all of us unless she’s working with Trent.”
“Fuck.” He swears and stomps his foot before resuming the incessant tapping.
“But there is one thing . . .” I’m shit. I’m a selfish fucking prick but I can’t see any other way around this.
His brows rise and I know I have his full attention, even if he acts otherwise. “Out with it.”
“She’s . . .” My brain speeds through all the conversations I’ve overheard and our interactions. “She talks about her sister sometimes. I think the band knows her.”
“Okay . . .” My uncle shoves his phone in his pocket, an almost non-existent sight and levels me with his glare. “Who’s the sister?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.” He looks bored and returns back to his cell.
“It’s true.”
“I need names, Leighton. Enough bullshit.” He shakes his head and taps on his screen. “I’ll book your flight back to LA for the morning.”
“Sean’s going to marry Jess.” The words spew from my lips like the garbage they are.
But it does the trick. My uncle’s eyes are wide with his undivided attention. “Jessica Moore.”
I nod even though he wasn’t asking a question. Okay, so, it’s an exaggeration of truths built in the form of a lie, but I’m no saint. Besides, Sean calls Jess daily and by the way his friends tease it’s not entirely unlikely.
Bedo holds my gaze and I swear I almost have him. There’s no way in hell I’m getting kicked off this tour. Not yet. He just needs a little push.
“She’s living at the house with Deb. Did you know that? After this tour, Sean says they’re planning to elope.” I’m so full of conviction I almost believe it myself. Fuck, what is wrong with me?
“No fucking way!” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe it and maybe I’ve sold my lie too hard. But then my uncle lets loose a chuckle, his face transforming with his smile. “Well done. Well done.” It takes all my willpower not to grimace when he clasps me on the back. Bedo’s family, but I’ve just betrayed a brotherhood.
“Keep that shit up and you’ll play with 3UG for a long fucking time.” He points a finger and levels his gaze. “I need deets on the PA next. Don’t let me down.”
“I’m always listening.” I force my lips into a smile I don’t really feel.
“Damn right.” He chuckles, his laughter almost joyful, but my stomach churns at the sound.
I turn to go, completely over this conversation, but my uncle calls out before I make it more than three steps.
“Oh, and Leighton? Stop by wardrobe before you head out for the radio interviews.”
“Anything you desire.” I can tell he wants to berate my smartass tendencies, but I turn away before he can, or worse, before I say something I truly do regret. I don’t like our arrangement, but it’s the bed I’ve made and I’m stuck with it.
I stop at the open wardrobe door, knocking as I peek my head inside. “Hey, Bedo said you wanted to . . .” My thoughts jumble in my head and I can’t even remember what I meant to say because holywow. Opal’s dressed like a fucking wet dream. “Whoa.”
I’ve yet to see her in anything other than sundresses or cutoff jeans, which still look fantastic, but this? Fuckme. She’s absolutely gorgeous. “No one’s gonna have eyes for the band with you around.”
“Oh? This old thing?” she jokes, but then lowers her voice for only me. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
