1
“Iwouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
I stop in my tracks, one foot already on the first step, hand clutching the railing and my eyes lift from where they’ve been staring down at the schedule on the clipboard. Saul, his big beefy arms crossed at his chest, stands just a few feet away, the typical emotionless expression he wears covering his face.
I tip my head to the man I’ve only known for less than six weeks and shift the clipboard to my hip and placing the other on the door handle of the trailer.
“Why not?” I ask, curious as to why the bodyguard would want to keep me from seeing Rye, our mutual employer. The employer I work directly for as his personal assistant, aka: grunt girl, a job I began just over a month ago. I tip my head to the side. “Rye wants me to give him the revised festival dates and schedules.”
Saul purses his lips together and shakes his head, his tone no nonsense and blunt. “I’d suggest coming back later.”
My shoulders slump in exhaustion and with a touch of impatience. I’ve been running around these festival grounds all morning, tracking down catering, and the road crew, and working with production crew, all to ensure no problems arise when Ryland “Rye” Aldridge takes the mainstage tonight in front of thirty-thousand concert goers.
Salty sweat drips down my nose, the heat of the Gulf Shore’s mid-afternoon sun and humidity turning me into a wilting flower. My hair was piled up on my head in a tight bun earlier this morning, but with all the running around I’ve done this morning, I’m sure I look a fright.
In fact, I don’t have time to wait for him. “Fine, then. Do you know where Court is? I can just give these to him instead.”
Saul jerks his head at the trailer and returns his blank stare at me. “With Rye.”
Again, confused, I try to find meaning behind his warning. “Okay…well, if they’re both in there, and I need to talk to them both, it seems logical that I go in there.”
A terse sniff of disagreement passes his lips, but he doesn’t stop me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Pfft. Whatever, Saul,” I wave the clipboard at him and shake my head. “I’m just trying to do what they pay me to do. Keep things running smoothly.”
I wait for further objection, but he says nothing more. He just shrugs a boulder sized shoulder and returns his ever-watchful gaze to the people that loiter about in the campgrounds reserved for the talent.
Turning the knob on the trailer door, I open it up, taking a step in through the threshold, the cool blast of air from the air-conditioned environment slapping me in the face, and I stick my head forward through the door.
“Rye? Court? Are you in here? It’s just me.Grunt girl.” I call out, only whispering the sarcastic title under my breath, but don’t get an immediate response.
That’s not unusual, as they are often in heated debate over something to do with Rye’s music business and they rarely lift even an eyebrow when I’m around. I’m a bit invisible in that way. They treat me with respect, but in a distant sort of manner. They definitely don’t do me any favors or take it easy on me, as noted with the menial tasks had me doing this morning, but they are very kind and courteous with their requests.
Unlike some of the personal assistants I’ve met so far on the road, who have mentioned their employers are stuck up divas. Word gets around and rumors fly when it comes to how the rock country stars treat their associates. And the only rumor that I’ve heard, which I’ve quickly dispensed as ridiculous gossip, is that Rye and Court are lovers.
Which is absolutely preposterous because they are stepbrothers. Or maybe adoptive brothers. Whatever the case, I’ve never seen them so much as make a flirty wink at each other. And I’ve been a ton of meetings with them since I started my job as Rye’s assistant. They definitely have mutual admiration and love for each other, but I’ve never noticed anything sexual.
I hear some muffled noises coming from the back of the trailer, where Rye’s bedroom is, and there’s music playing fairly loud.
Shutting the door behind me, I head back down the tiny hallway, passing the leather couches on both sides of the trailer, then the bathroom, the bunks on either side until I stop in front of the door leading into the one and only private room on the bus.
The door isn’t shut all the way, and I’m just about to knock when I hear a moan.
A female moan.
My eyes burst wide when suddenly I see a flash of skin. Someone has moved in front of the crack in the door, blocking my view.
Based on the skin-tone, I think it might be Court. Although, I’ve only ever seen him in a suit and tie, seeing as he’s Rye’s manager, and I’m a bit stunned to see a huge tattoo covering most of his upper shoulders. The blue and black ink standout against his light brown skin.
But if that’s Court in there, and I hear a woman, where’s Rye?
Didn’t Saul mention Rye was inside, too?
“Ah, fuck, man. You need to get some of this.”
Mmmkay. That is indeed Rye’s voice. I take a miniscule step forward, peering through the crack. Court moves toward something, possibly Rye, but I still can’t see because Court’s shoulders still block out my view.
And then the woman moan’s again.
