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“He might need to get back to you in about twelve hours or so,” Bowie quipped.

Pressley’s laughter followed, along with another smartass remark. “Does he need me to leave my name and number?”

Tibby snickered and I saw him point to my hand, making Bowie laugh.

“He’s flipping you off,” Tibby said.

“I deserve that.”

Tony worked the last of the knots out of my shoulders and neck while yet another counselor lost their lives. Twice now, the jump-scares in the movie made Claude yelp and grumble something that sounded an awful lot like him hating on Halloween. Touring with these guys, looked like he was shit out of luck. Purple bats and blue haunted houses swayed from the LED strands they’d hung around the room, making the bus their own.

There was a shadow in the window on screen, with an ominous rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning behind it. The foreshadowing in these old movies was always on point.

Oh damn.

He’d made his way to my lower back again. Should I tell him that nothing hurt anymore?

Hell no.

He could rub for as long as he wanted while I lay here and watched the movie rotate between scenes until it was impossible to predict where the killer was going to strike next. The way they continued to build the levels of tension, until every creak and clatter had viewers on the edge of their seats. An arrow point bursting through a counselor’s throat made Claude gasp and start grumbling again. He’d better watch himself around these guys. Having caught a few glimpses into how Tony’s mind worked, I could see him orchestrating a Halloween movie marathon involving as many slasher franchises as they could find on the streaming services. That was just the kind of retribution he’d dream up if Claude fucked around and pissed them off. Again.

“Did I hit a ticklish spot?” Tony asked when I started chuckling.

“Nah, Little Wren, just an amusing thought.”

“How’s your back feel?”

“Amazing, but don’t take that as an invitation to stop,” I replied as he leaned over and kissed me.

“You’re addicted now, aren’t you?” Bowie asked.

“I might need another demonstration or two, just to be sure,” I croaked, barely getting the words out before Tony drizzled more oil on my back.

Groans were the only thing I could manage after that.

Laughter followed, Bowie, Tibby, Pressley, I could swear I heard Claude’s ragged bark join them for a moment.

“Yup.” Tony said, giggling as he spread the oil around. “Addicted.”

“Traitor.”

Chapter Eleven

Tony

Vegas, baby!

“I can’t believe we’re really here!” I was so damn excited to see Vegas. The second we pulled off the freeway and onto the strip, Daddy nudged me awake so I could see the bright lights of the city that never sleeps. He’d taken to sharing a bunk with me since the first massage I gave him, claiming my bunk was softer than his, but we all knew better. He didn’t want to be away from his boy or his magic hands.

The backstage loading area behind the LINQ Promenade is where the casino security directed us to unload. The backside of a building wasn’t what I wanted to see, and it was hard to contain myself given how hyped up I was.

“Down, boy,” Bowie teased. “You’re like an untrained puppy. Is that drool hanging from your mouth?”

“Dude, Vegas!” I waved my hands around. He was insane, how was he not excited?

“Yo, Wolf,” Bowie called out, Daddy turned and waved. “I think you need to take your boy for a walk?”

Daddy shook his head, said something to the guy beside him, then headed toward us. “Little Wren, what are you up to?”