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The airplane fisaco was a one time thing, I promised myself. I couldn’t get it on with my bosses. After all, nothing good could come out of it. Three men? International rock stars? Guys who had women falling at their feet?
Plus, they were my employers.
I had to stay in control.
I had to resist temptation. But the problem was … I didn’t want to.5Gunner“Hard Fought! Hard Fought! Hard Fought!”
The amphitheater shook with stomping feet and voices chanting our names. We’d already done one encore. The crowd wanted more, and after that, they would ask for another. It was what happened every time.
Unfortunately for the screaming masses, Brody, Hudson, and I didn’t have it in us. Not tonight. Encores were tiring. The energy that went into an encore had to be ten times as much as we put into any other song on the set-list. After hours of playing without hydration, it was time to relax.
I strode off the stage just behind my band-mates. The venue was ringing with the sound of chicks screaming our name. As usual, the show was sold out, most of the seats filled by women, wet and creaming with joy.
Yet another city on its knees.
“This shit gets you off, huh?” Brody grunted, shoving me playfully from behind. He flashed a smile.
“Don’t say it doesn’t do the same to you,” I growled. “They fuckin’ love us.”
“They love Brody,” Hudson grumbled, but I could hear the laughter in his voice. That man never took those slim women seriously. Girls could go after Brody all day long, but Hudson would never care. As long as he got to play his music and write the words to our songs, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.
I didn’t blame him, because I felt the same. Again, curvy girls our are thing. We don’t give a shit about skeletons.
Unfortunately, the dressing room was a hike. We strode through endless hallways, twisting and turning, but never arrived. It was nothing like Toronto or Detroit, where the private spaces were right behind the stage. What the fuck? This was weird.
Because it was like walking a gauntlet.
Girls, girls, and more girls lined the walls, screaming our names as loud as sirens. Man, this was getting on my nerves because the chicks were the most predictable part of our fame. Fans had irritated me for the past few years, but for some reason, the constant catcalls were bothering me more than usual.
Despite the music still flooding through my system, I didn’t feel so great. The music was my drug, but the high was wearing off more quickly than normal. Their high-pitched screams made my head throb, a pound starting at the base of my skull.
“Fuck, my head is killing me,” I groaned.
“It’s because you didn’t get more of you-know-who,” Brody diagnosed, taking out his phone and gave me a smirk. “I can try and fix that for you, dude.”
He was always the problem-solver.
“I don’t think she’s ready for what I need,” I rasped, trying to avoid any flashing lights. “This is a pretty shitty migraine.”
But the groupies just wouldn’t stop.
“We love you, Gunner!” a girl screamed.
“Brody, sign my tits!” another belted.
Brody shook his head and scrolled through his phone until he found the number he was looking for. I knew exactly who he was dialing, and it wasn’t Kate. He selected the contact and pressed call. It was only a moment before the woman on the other end answered. He put it on speakerphone.
“Good evening, Alphas.” I could hear Helena’s self-satisfaction laced in her tone. “What can I do for you?”
“Not a thing right now,” Brody said. “Just trying to look busy while we find the fuckin’ dressing room—and we wanted to give you some serious thanks for the new girl. You scored a solid ten with her.”
“You like this one?”
“We all do,” I agreed, despite my headache.
Hudson gave a rumbling sigh of contentment. “She’s perfect. The best we’ve ever had. You did good, Hel.”
“Good,” she replied. “Don’t wear her out too much. She still needs to be able to tend to her other duties. You guys have more requirements than any of my other clients. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, but you’d do anything for us, right?” Brody jested. “Anything at all?”
She groaned. “I do my best.”
Because Helena is actually Brody’s older half-sister. It’s all in the family sometimes. Even though she thought our needs were a bit strange, the woman didn’t blink an eye. She took care of the band.
And it worked too. Look where we are now. So while Helena came off like a witch ninety-eight percent of the time, in actuality, she was like a mother to us—if a mother also happened to be a ball-buster and a wizard when it came to career management.
In short, Helena was one of a kind.
“We’re just fucking with you. We’ll take good care of her,” Brody laughed. “Real good care of her.”
