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Andrew seems to set aside his misery and straightens up. “What?”
“We had a guy show up to see Mallory today. A sort of ex. I don’t want him bothering her tomorrow at the show. So, if I’m occupied, you think you can look out for her? Make sure no one’s hassling my girl?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” Andrew’s gaze shifts between Chaser and me. “You okay, Mallory?”
Still shocked Chaser made the request, I only nod.
“My family will be there, so you can still go on about your regular business.” Chaser rolls his eyes. “But just in case, look out for her, okay?”
“You got it.” Andrew slaps Chaser on the back a few times. “Are you guys meeting us for dinner?”
“We’ll be down in a few.”
“Cool!” He waves at me before taking off, slamming the door behind him.
“Why would you do that?” I ask.
Chaser strips off his T-shirt and tosses it near our bags. “Do what?”
Trying not to get distracted by inked pecs and perfect abs, I answer, “Bring Andrew any closer to my family…stuff by asking him to watch over me.” I follow him into the bedroom.
“Two reasons. One, I actually want as many people looking out for you as possible. Two, it’ll give him something to do so he stops whining about Pamela. Make him feel useful. Half the time I think that’s his problem. Not enough responsibility.”
“Careful, Chaser.” I bite my lip and stare as he strips out of his jeans. “Don’t let his irresponsibility become your responsibility.”
“Too late for that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mallory
Excited energy combined with a let’s-get-it-over-with attitude seems to permeate the mood backstage the next afternoon. Alvin’s busy picking at the buffet table set up for us, while Andrew demands my attention.
“Feels like the longest tour of my life,” Andrew moans, rubbing a hand over his side.
“Does it still hurt?” I ask. “You really should’ve rested a few more days before getting back on the road.”
“Fuck that. You know how long some of those kids probably saved to buy their tickets?”
“That’s sweet but I bet they’d rather know their favorite drummer was in good health.”
“Not their problem.”
I can’t help but be touched by his concern for his fans.
“Have you heard from Pamela?” he asks with hopeful puppy eyes.
“Not yet.” I want to add we’re not exactly that close, but don’t see the point.
He reaches over to the large, metal tub someone placed on the floor. It’s full of ice, sodas, beer, and a few bottles of champagne. Shoving a hand into the pile of ice cubes, he pulls out a dripping can of 7-Up and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” Even though I didn’t ask, I am thirsty, so I pop the top and I swipe at droplets of water that landed on my leg.
“You look hot.” He sweeps his gaze over me from head to toe. “Did I mention that?”
“You did. Several times.” Worried I’ll accidentally flash someone, I stand and tug the short leather dress down.
“Careful,” Andrew murmurs, eyes glued to my chest.
“Shoot.” This was a mistake. The thin little straps don’t do much to keep the dress up and every time I try to pull the skirt down, I’m in danger of my boobs falling out.
“You want a T-shirt to wear over it?” he offers, picking up a black backpack and rummaging through the contents.
I glare at him. “I’m not falling for that again.”
“Not that T-shirt.” He tosses a grungy black shirt my way that smells like it hasn’t been washed once on the whole tour. And eww, is it crusty?
“Pew!” I yelp and throw it back in his lap. “Did something die in there?”
“Oh, yeah. Whoops. A thousand potential little Andrews.” He shoves his nose in it and sniffs. “Sorry. Wrong shirt.”
“Gross.” Vomit burns the back of my throat. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a clean one here somewhere.” He opens the backpack wider and tosses items around.
“It’s fine, Andrew.” Ignoring his protests, I grab the short denim vest I brought with me off the end of the couch. I slip it on, buttoning it half-way. “Does that look okay?”
He sits back and rubs his hand over his chin. “From a red-blooded male perspective, it’s better without the vest in the way. But if I’m Chaser, I’d prefer it on and buttoned to the top.” He touches his chin.
“Thanks,” I grumble. “Very helpful.”
“Are you nervous about meeting his family?”
“No, I’ve met them before.” I doubt Stump cares what I’m wearing. On second thought, I can’t seem to sit still. Maybe seeing the club explains some of my jitters.
“Are you sad the tour’s over?” I ask to take the attention off me.
“Yeah.” His lost puppy face returns. “Not looking forward to going home to an empty house.”
“You better hope there’s a house to go home to. Pamela was mad enough to burn it down while you’re gone.”
“Shit.” He rubs his hands over the back of his neck. “I didn’t think of that. She wouldn’t…would she?”
“What you did was pretty gross.”
He glances away. “Would you burn Chaser’s house down?”
“No, I’d cut off his dick,” I answer without thinking. “A house is a small price to pay.”
He sits back and rubs his crotch. “Jesus Christ. I never knew you were so scary, Mallory.”
I shrug.
“Knowing Chaser, it’s just a bigger turn on,” Alvin says, winking at me.
“True,” I agree.
“It’s kind of hot.” Andrew pulls a sketchpad out of his backpack and flips it open. “How long are you and Chaser going to be gone?”
“At least a week. We can’t be away too long. He has to leave and record the album.”
Alvin presses his palms together prayer style. “Please, dear spirits don’t let this recording go like the last one.”
“Nah.” Andrew waves off Alvin’s concern. “Mark won’t put up with any shit. Plus, Jacob’s been good.”
Maybe one positive thing came out of Andrew getting shot—Jacob’s sobriety.
Andrew turns the sketchpad toward me. I admire his comic book style drawings as he flips through each page. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
“Keeping my dick in my pants,” he answers with a straight face.
“Well, you’re self-aware.” I pat the top of his head. “That’s a start.”
Alvin covers his face with his hands and cough-laughs.
Ignoring both of us, Andrew continues flipping through the sketchbook. “I’m thinking of starting a side project. Like a T-shirt company. Vicious Vandals-inspired. Kyle’s dicking me around about using the band’s name, so I might end up calling it Kyle’s-A-Cocksucker but I think it might be fun.”
I chuckle at the casual way he mentions disagreements with his bandmate.
“You think you’d be interested in modeling for me?” he asks.
“T-shirts?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve done modeling, right? Frederick’s of Hollywood, Secret Nothings—”
“Wait, how do you know that?” Those jobs were before Chaser and Andrew met. I can’t picture Andrew sitting around flipping through old lingerie catalogs…on second thought, yes I can.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Pamela probably mentioned it. But you have experience with regular clothes too, right? L.A. Gear, Guess—”
“Gina-Marie Johnson did the Guess campaign.” I tilt my head. “Do all blondes with big boobs look the same to you?”
He scratches his head. “Not really.”
“I’d let Gina-Marie ride my Johnson any day of the week,” Alvin adds.
“Pipe down, over there,” I say over my shoulder.
“High-five, bro.” Andrew throws his palm up in the air.
