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For that matter, so did women, and she was about to prove it.
She released the handle and let the door close, then hopped back down. Expressionless face intact, she looped her hair over one shoulder and made her way through the half circle of determined groupies still clustered behind the bus.
“Hey, you with the band?” The chick had purple ponytails and smacked her gum loud enough to stomp on Denver’s last nerve. “I wanna fuck—I mean, meet Michael.”
Her friends giggled and cheered as if she’d just announced her candidacy for president.
“Michael is happily married,” Denver informed her icily, moving around the group and jogging across the wide lot before they could question her further.
There were a couple bars and a jazz club up the street that they’d passed on their way to The Egg. She’d just stop into the club, have an adult bevvie or two to take the edge off, listen to some nice jazz, and give herself a chance to get over being pissed. Hopefully, the drinks would make her tired so when she got back to the bus, she could just sleep off the rest of her mad.
And hurt.
And lust.
Couldn’t forget the lust. That was ever present since she’d made the glorious mistake of sleeping with her devious sex god of a best friend.
She crossed the street, darting between cars, and waved her ID at the bouncer outside the jazz club. Ducking inside, she gave herself a moment to acclimate before heading up to the bar. A tall guy with shaggy blond hair appeared beside her with a ready smile. “Hi there. This must be my lucky night.”
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes and motioned to the bartender, then requested a gin and tonic.
When the bartender slid the glass her way, her new friend leaned closer. “You like the harder stuff. I approve. You don’t seem like a pink-umbrella type of lady.”
“Truer words,” she muttered, aiming for the first empty table she saw.
Thankfully, he didn’t follow.
She sat with her drink, soaking up the smooth, mellow horns and piano. This definitely wasn’t her usual scene, but she appreciated the break. A headache was brewing at her temples and her nerves were already frayed. Maybe a more relaxed kind of vibe would help even her out.
At least she wasn’t sitting around fuming on the bus. Anything was better than that.
She lasted through four songs. They were great musicians with a fun style and an easy way of interacting with the mostly disinterested crowd. On a different night, she might’ve gone up to talk to the bandleader to ask him for some artist recommendations. She was into all kinds of music, and she was eager to explore.
In all ways, huh? That’s how your ass got tied up to a headboard the other night.
God, that stupid, critical inner voice. She’d hoped two gin and tonics would kill it dead, but not so much.
Normally, she wasn’t one for a lot of recriminations or regrets. But it had been a while since she’d had quite so much on the line.
She settled her bill and resisted the urge to turn on her phone—which she had turned off during the second song just in case she weakened enough to check it—as she slipped out of the club. She’d also deleted that stupid app she’d used to keep tabs on Ryan. He was a grown man. His choices were exactly that.
His choices. His life. No matter how much she cared or worried about him, she had to let him find his own way.
Just as she’d found hers. It had been a rocky trip with a lot of fear and recriminations and too much looking over her shoulder, but she’d finally made some headway at figuring herself out again. Even if she stumbled now and then, as she had recently.
There was no time like the present to get back on track.
She jogged to the corner and waited for the cars to pass. Somehow it was much later than she’d realized. She’d just hurry back to the bus, take a quick, hot shower, and hope sleep came quickly.
No dreams of Ryan and his powerful cock and masterful tongue would be a welcome bonus.
Another bonus was that all but the most diehard groupies had dispersed from their stalking of the tour bus. She bypassed them without saying a word, going straight inside without even a glance in their direction.
All she wanted was bed.
The moment she stepped on the bus, she realized she wasn’t the only one who wanted that. Difference was, judging from the sex noises emanating from the bunk area, they were using the bed for a wholly more erotic purpose.
Denver gripped her purse in one hand and her throat with the other. Maybe it was Mal. The others had to be at the hotel, right? He was the only one who often seemed to eschew hotel rooms for his bunk. Antisocial and all that. He could’ve picked up someone after the show. Perhaps even one of the groupies. He wasn’t terribly choosy from what she’d seen.
