Insider (Exodus End #1)(114)
Author: Olivia Cunning

“So I’ll skip it. No one gives two shits about the bassist anyway.”

“You aren’t skipping it,” Max said.

“We didn’t even have time for breakfast.” He glanced at Steve for backup, but Steve’s head was leaning back against the seat, and he was undoubtedly asleep behind his sunglasses.

“Won’t be the first time or the last,” Max said.

Toni tried to calm Logan’s curls with her fingertips and a bit of spit. Logan was tired of all these stupid promotional events. They interfered with his sleep. With his hobbies. With the time he could spend with Toni. He longed for the days when all he had to do was stay sober enough to find the stage and the rest of his time was his own.

“Are you dropping me off at the arena? Or do I need to find a cab?” Toni asked.

“You aren’t following us to the TV station?” Max asked. “We don’t do many morning shows. This will probably be your only opportunity to catch any behind-the-scenes footage.”

“I’m with Colby and the crew today. They start assembling that stage early. And all my equipment is on the bus anyway.”

“Let’s hope they have my platform fixed,” Logan grumbled. “I don’t know why we need all the fanfare anyway.”

“You know the fans expect us to top the previous year’s stage setup every concert season,” Max said.

“And when did we start doing what’s expected of us?”

“About ten years ago when we hit the top of the record charts for the first time. Why are you so pissy this morning?” Max asked.

Logan scrubbed his face with both hands. “I’m just tired.”

“We’ve barely gotten started on this tour,” Max said. “If you think you’re tired now, wait until we take on the rest of the world and the jet lag kicks in.”

“We should fire Sam and go indie,” Steve said.

So he wasn’t asleep.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Max said. “We don’t do many morning events. Fucking suck it up.”

“Going indie sounds great to me,” Logan said. “Is Sam still shopping the rights to our next album?” He didn’t remember signing a new contract after they’d fulfilled their previous one with the release of their last album.

“He’s holding out for more cash,” Steve said.

“Where the hell is Dare?” Max asked.

“Do you think he’ll side with you?” Steve asked. “I’m sure he’s tired of all this bullshit too.”

“You’re not really considering going indie, are you?” Toni asked.

“Yes,” said Steve.

“No,” said Max.

“Maybe,” said Logan.

The door opened, and Dare tumbled in. He was barefoot and shirtless. Butch followed him into the car, carrying Dare’s boots and T-shirt.

“Where’s Reagan?” Butch asked, his eyes searching each face in the car as if he’d somehow overlooked her.

“Haven’t seen her,” Max said.

“Dammit!” Butch tossed Dare’s clothes at him before jumping out of the car again.

“Fuck, it’s early,” Dare grumbled as he tugged his T-shirt on over his head.

As soon as he pulled the fabric down to cover his belly, Dare leaned over and put his head on Toni’s lap, snuggling into her like she was his favorite pillow. Logan might have slugged him, but he was too tired for that level of activity, and if he’d have thought of it first, he’d have done the exact same thing.

Toni glanced nervously at Logan, but he offered her a reassuring smile. He trusted her not to break his heart, trusted his bandmates not to steal her away from him. The only one he didn’t trust with her was himself. Soon the North American leg of their tour would be over and she’d go back to her little chicken farm in Washington and they’d have to say goodbye.

A churning lump settled in the pit of his stomach, a sensation he quickly dismissed as hunger.

“How does Dare feel about going indie?” Toni asked.

Dare’s eyes eased open, and he zeroed in on Steve. “This again? Give it a rest, will you?”

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve discussed it?” Toni asked, her fingers twitching. Logan guessed she was itching to write down their entire conversation.

At times, Logan wished her reporter side had an off switch.

“It’s Steve’s favorite topic of conversation,” Max said.

“I just have a different definition of success than the rest of you,” Steve said. “I don’t need the limousines and the fancy house and the five-star hotel suites and the piles of cash.”

“But you do need the gorgeous babes,” Logan said with a grin.

“Of course I need the gorgeous babes,” Steve said, “but as far as everything else goes, I just need to make music and earn enough to get by. The rest of this is just . . . stuff. Unnecessary fucking stuff.”

“I’m so tired, he’s making sense,” Dare mumbled. He covered a yawn, and then a second, with the back of his hand.

The car door opened, and Reagan stumbled in wearing a bathrobe, a pair of combat boots, and a sleepy expression. “This shit is for the birds,” she declared before sitting next to Max and glowering at Butch, who tossed her overnight bag into the car and climbed inside, slamming the door behind him.

“We’re going to be late,” Butch said as the limo took off.

“Six a.m. is never late,” Steve said, “unless you haven’t made it to bed yet. Which I haven’t.” His fingertips disappeared under his sunglasses to rub at both eyes.

“How am I supposed to get dressed in the car?” Reagan said, tilting her head at Butch and giving him a glare that would freeze molten lava.

“Figure it out,” he barked.

“I’ll help you,” Toni said. She scooted out from beneath Dare’s head to stumble to the other side of the moving limo.

Toni held Reagan’s robe like a makeshift curtain while Reagan tossed on clothes in the corner behind it. Once dressed, their sassy guitarist fixed an icy stare on Butch as she flopped into the seat, shoved her feet back into her boots, and jerked the laces tight.

None of this was Butch’s fault. He didn’t arrange their schedule. He was just in charge of making sure they stuck to it. Poor bastard.

At the TV station, they climbed out one at a time. Logan lingered so he could be with Toni for as long as possible. The limo was taking her to the arena so she could start her day and then would return to pick up the band after their television appearance.