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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the time we get off the plane in California, my rage is so heavy, I’m clenching my fists as we walk through the airport, because I don’t trust myself not to throw a punch at Ash.
The way he tried to corner me in the bathroom was laughable. As if he can just get me alone for a little while and that’ll fix all his fuck ups from the past few years? He should know better.
The fucking audacity he had to corner me and put his lips on mine after proposing to his fucking girlfriend the night before makes my skin itch and buzz. I want to take a shower so I can scrub my skin raw and force my skin cells to forget every time he’s touched me.
I was up until the early hours of the morning, torturing myself by scrolling through the comments about their engagement on social media. When I was done with that, I moved on to the numerous articles that had already been written about Ash and Lizette.
My anger radiates from my core. It’s so severe that I’m shaking as we make our way to the limo after exiting the airport.
I sit as far away from him as I can manage, in between Trish and Sean. Still, Ash stares at me from his seat. His eyes are rimmed red, and I know he’s upset, but that doesn’t change things. For years, he’s promised to change. That he’d come out when the time was right. Promised me he and Lizette weren’t serious, even though it was blatantly obvious that Lizette was serious abouthim.
For a long time, I convinced myself that he had trouble showing his true colors because of how he was raised. I know that’s part of it. But after a while, the same excuses didn’t work anymore, and the more lies he told, the less I believed him. It’s been a decade, and he still expects me to be his plaything on the side while he passes as straight to the rest of the world?
Fuck that.
Sean brings me back to reality when he bumps my knee with his and offers me a soda.
“You good, my dude?” Sean asks.
I nod and stare at the soda can in my hand. I’m sick of lying. I don’t want to hide anymore. I crack the top of the soda open and chug half of it, just to have something to do other than avoid his eyes. This time, I won’t go back to him like I’ve done in the past. I don’t want to be the person who hides. I don’t want to be theother loverof April Renegade’s leading man. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth just thinking about it, because I’ve already been his side piece for too long.
“We rented out a whole set of boutique lofts right in the center of L.A.” Mike grins from beside Ash. “They’re brand new, and no one’s moved in yet. I figured more privacy would be nice for the last leg of the tour.”
“Heck, yeah, Mike. Thanks,” Brian says. “Are they gonna be, like, super bougie? We are in L.A., after all.” He and Sean snicker at that.
Mike shrugs and rolls his eyes halfheartedly. “Honestly? Yeah. They’re kind of ‘bougie.’”
Sean and Brian share a look of humor, then howl in laughter. Mike never talks like that. Hell, Mike hardly ever jokes. Even I crack a smile.
“Okay, okay.” Mike grimaces as the laughter intensifies. Sean and Brian sit back and look like two scolded school children with their arms crossed and smug smiles on their lips. “You all ready for the last few shows?”
I nod and finish off my soda as the others hoot and holler some more. All except for Ash. Mike gives Ash the side-eye but doesn’t say anything.
“We’ve got L.A. tonight, then a few days off before we head to San Diego so you all can rest up a bit. After that, we’ll fly up to San Francisco before going back to the East Coast,”Mike says.
As burned out as I am from the tour, this is the first time I’ve ever wanted the tour to end prematurely. And it has nothing to do with the shows or the fans or the traveling.
“And then it’s D.C., right?” Trish asks.
Mike nods. “D.C. and then we end the tour at Madison Square Garden in March after another break.” He sighs in content at the thought of getting to go home soon. Looking at Mike going home to his wife reminds me I still haven’t called Mom and Dad. I set a reminder in my phone to do so on one of our days in between shows.
When we arrive at the lofts and walk into the lobby, my jaw drops. Floor to ceiling windows let in an abundance of natural light. The place is surrounded by freshly cut flowers in glass vases with natural-colored rocks at the bottom, there’s exposed brick on the main wall that houses the stairs and elevator, and massive, exquisite paintings decorate the walls. The hardwood underneath my feet looks real and recently stained, and the rugs on top of them are boho and cushy under my feet. Even the woman who greets us in the foyer is dressed up and pristine. She wears a tight, blood-red pencil skirt, a frilly white blouse, and red bottom pumps. Her lipstick matches the shade of red from her skirt perfectly.
“You weren’t kidding, Mike,” Brian sighs as he looks all around, running a calloused hand over the top of his head of thickly braided twists. Even Trish, who is usually too cool to be impressed, looks downright mesmerized.
“Welcome, April Renegade and crew,” the finely dressed woman greets. “We are so happy to be able to house you for the next few nights while you are in the city.” She smiles and shows off a set of perfect, white teeth. “Shall we?”
We all enter the spacious elevator after Ellie—that’s the woman’s name—and listen as she talks about the building’s history. It was apparently an old warehouse before it was converted into lofts last year. “The bottom level houses the lobby, a couple of offices, and a communal game room.”
I can’t help but notice that Ellie’s eyes drag down my body as she talks. She doesn’t bother trying to hide her attraction, either. She barely looks at anyone else. “On the second and third floors are the loft apartments. There are ten total; six smaller on the second floor and four larger lofts on the top.”
She stops on the second floor, and we follow her out.
“Trish, you’ll be on this floor with me,” Mike says, “along with Jim, Evan, Connor, and Alex.” Trish doesn’t look thrilled to be separated from the main band, but she keeps quiet. Connor and Alex accompanied us to most places for travel—Connor is the main sound tech who’s been with us since our very first tour, and Alex is Mike’s assistant. Sometimes, they stay with the other roadies, but I think Mike wanted to treat them to a few nights at the loft as a thank you.
Ellie turns to those of us going up to the third floor and hands us all our keys. Looking down at my key card, I notice an old-fashioned 3 printed on it in bold letters. “You gentlemen let me know if you need anything,” Ellie says. She places a hand on my bicep and sends me a sultry smile before walking back to Mike and the others.
