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I look to Landry. “Don’t think we can afford not to.”
Chapter Eighteen
Landry
Tour Stop: Austin Night Two
Tonight’s show drags. The first two bands get almost no attention, and what little crowd there is seems unenthused. Only a few diehards are on the dance floor. I gaze up at the lead singer and wonder how demoralizing it is to stand up there and sing when no one is interested. Adam is standing at the edge of the dance floor, a bottle in one hand, tapping his foot and nodding his head to the beat. I don’t know if he really enjoys it or is putting on a good show.
Ian is watching Rudd hit on a very pretty blonde while Davis and I enjoy a moment alone.
“You holding up okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”
“I know. I’ve heard horror stories about touring in a van. Usually, you crash on someone’s floor—hopefully not someone with pets. Remember Pete Appleton?”
“Vaguely. You went to college with him?” Davis brought a lot of guys home over break, but I never paid much attention to them. I was too busy with my own stuff.
“Well, he was in a band and they’d drive five hours for one gig and turn around and drive back home so he could be at work the next day. So this,” Davis waves around the room, “this is great.” He drops his arm back on the table. “I wish Adam wasn’t such a tight-ass about his music, though. Can you imagine me singing on a commercial?”
“No, that’d be amazing. I think we’d have to call Mom and Dad and make them come home for that.”
He grins. “No kidding. Although, from what Hollister says, it’d be months before the ad would air. Rudd was telling me that Fitz and The Tantrums’ songs are on video games and TV promo spots.” He whistles a few bars.
“Oh shit. I recognize that!” I exclaim. “That was on The CW last fall.”
Davis slaps a hand on the table. “Exactly. They had their own tour last summer and now they have a couple billboard hits. They’re the next big thing.” He shifts in his seat so that he can see Adam better. Or maybe so he can glare at Adam better. “I don’t get him, Landry. He’s obviously a musical genius. He’s got more connections to this industry than most and not just because of his dad.” He turns back to me. “Did you know he writes music for other artists? That he wrote four hits last year and three the year before that?”
I recoil in surprise. “No. I had no idea.”
The information hits me like a brick. I don’t know much about Adam other than what I’ve read on the internet and what little Davis has shared. Sure, we’ve had breakfast with each other every day for two weeks straight, but in all that time, he’s not once mentioned his music writing career.
I’ve had this suspicion that our connection would last only as long as the tour. Heck, I sort of set the parameters myself because I knew, deep down, that this is where his head was. If he really wanted a lasting relationship, we’d be telling each other everything. But, we aren’t. We’re both holding back.
Why that thought depresses me, I’m not sure. It’s not like we’re in love. We’re hot for each other. We’ll enjoy each other and go our separate ways. He’s gorgeous, and I haven’t had sex in a long time. So long that I’m a little nervous about tonight. He has a lot of experience and I’ve had close to none. What if I’m terrible and he doesn’t want to hook up again? Wouldn’t that be humiliating?
“It’s true. I mean, to some extent, I understand where he’s coming from. We don’t want to become known for only one song. But if he can write seven hits in two years, there’s no reason he can’t do the same for us, right?”
I shrug, because music isn’t my thing. Davis makes a frustrated sound, either at my lack of understanding or Adam’s stubbornness. To Davis, whose mantra is getting shit done, both are likely incredibly annoying. But he surprises me with a self-deprecating laugh. “Christ, I’m a shithead for complaining. I’ve got it so good compared to other people. Slap me upside the head the next time I bitch and moan about this band, okay?”
“That I can do,” I say with a smile.
He stands up and reaches out to ruffle my hair. “Be good, little sis.”
I bat his hand away. “Whenever am I not?”
“True,” he says nonchalantly as he walks away, not realizing the sting of his words.
I’ve been good, closeted in the basement working away, ignoring the outside world and what did it get me? A nice bank account, a stalker, and a dusty vagina.
I peek over at Adam. He wants me. He turns me on. I mean, what more could I ask for? I don’t need a love connection or a promise of forever. I like him. He’s safe and he’s experienced. Some girls might not like that, but I think I’ll enjoy the benefit of his expertise. If we keep our hookup on the down low, there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy each other for the rest of the tour.
“You look happy, girl.”
I glance up to see Mike sliding into Davis’s abandoned chair.
“It’s a great night in a great city with great music on tap.”
