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“Tell me again why we’re on a bus?” Charlie moaned.
“Because we’re reducing our carbon footprint and being kind to the environment, plus, are we even a rock band if we’ve not lived on a tour bus?”
“God, you’re such a hippie.” I laughed. Fox flicked his middle finger at me before he turned his attention back to his phone.
“Texting Lea again?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Nope? Really? You’ve finally got the message she’s not interested.”
“She is. She just doesn’t realize it yet, but I have a plan.”
“A plan… tell me more?” Charlie demanded as he took a long pull on his beer.
“Nope. Not until it works and then I will fill you in. Can you believe we’re going back to Miami? I thought we might have been banned from that place for good.”
“Trying to change the subject, Fox?” I winked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his stomach rumbling sounded out first. “I need food… lots and lots of food. Can we find somewhere?”
Thirty minutes later, we’d arrived in Miami and swapped the bus for a car which took us out for dinner. Sneaking in the back entrance, we were taken to a darkish corner and, as usual, were surrounded by security.
“God, this place is too posh. I just wanted burgers and fries,” Charlie complained as he looked at the menu.
“Chef will make you boys anything you’d like,” the older lady who had shown us to our seats told us as she placed a jug of water on the table. “Can I get you some drinks? Your server will be over in a minute. Just tell her what you fancy and she’ll make sure you get it.”
“Thank you. Can we get three beers for now?” I asked.
“No problem.”
I stared down at the menu, trying to decide what I was in the mood for when Charlie elbowed me in the side so hard it knocked the wind from my chest.
“What the fuck, Charlie?” Twisting my head, I glared at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring, open mouthed, at something across from us. I moved slowly, following the direction of his gaze, finding the space he was fixated on.
A single word fell from my lips at the same time as a tray was dropped, crashing to the floor.
“Nee?” I cried, but before anyone could say another word, our waitress turned and fled.
Ionee
Itookonelastlook at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my black skirt and red shirt before readjusting the thick headband that kept my long hair in the right place. My head throbbed, so I popped another couple of painkillers, marking them off on the whiteboard on the fridge that helped me remember I’d taken them.
I wasn’t looking forward to another 8-hour shift, but then I was off for two days, which meant I could enjoy the beach and maybe paint. Looking down at my hands, I smiled at the thought of my paint splattered skin.
The alarm sounding on my watch reminded me it was time to leave, so I checked I had everything—phone, keys, tablets, purse. Slipping on my black pumps, I closed my eyes before turning to the final page in my well thumbed notebook where there was a photo of a man with a note underneath.
Archer Walters. Do not contact him. Ever.
The walk to work was short and gave me a chance to feel the blistering sun on my face before a busy evening waiting tables at The Grove. Entering through the staff entrance, I smiled to see Benji was working behind the line today, so I knew there would be big tips because his food was something else.
“Hey, Ionee,” he yelled over the noise of the busy kitchen. “Looking stunning, as usual.”
“Smooth talker.”
“One day, you’ll cave and say yes to that date with me.”
“One day you’ll remember that you’re married… to a man.”
