I can’t afford to. Not under normal circumstances, and especially not now.
Managing Wycked Obsession has become more than a full-time job these days. The more popular and successful they’ve become, the more I have on my plate. Add in anything like the kind of shit we’ve seen recently, and it’s gotten damn near overwhelming.
Forty-eight hours, I remind myself. Forty-eight hours, and then I can make those fantasies of True and me on the beach come true.
“How about a beer?” Claire steps into the room with a frosty mug.
“Shiner?” I ask with a smile. I’m glad for the interruption and the drink offer. Since I began spending time in Austin with my band, I’ve come to appreciate Shiner Bock, the local favorite.
“Would I have anything else in the house?”
“Knox would disown you.”
We both laugh. Knox is her son and the lead guitarist for Wycked Obsession. He’s also the pseudo-leader of the band, and while I work with all the band members, I spend most of my time with Knox and his girlfriend London, who’s also the band’s publicist.
Hell, I’m staying here with Knox’s mom instead of in a hotel, because he asked me to.
“Thanks again for putting me up,” I say, holding up the mug like I’m toasting her. “I’ll be out of your hair early Friday morning.”
It isn’t the first time I’ve expressed my gratitude, and it won’t be my last. Claire Gallagher is a special woman, and I appreciate the mothering stuff she does for all of us.
She smiles warmly. “I’m glad to have you, Baz. It gets awfully quiet around here these days.”
Her face takes on a rueful expression that I understand completely. She’s mid-forties, pretty in a youthful sort of way, and she has a history. I don’t know everything, but it’s a story that I helped her sort out a little.
She seems to be moving on pretty well. I hope that’s true.
It’s a shitty thing that this woman who loves taking care of others has to find herself living alone now. The kids are grown, and after less than a year of marriage, she’s in the middle of a divorce from her second husband.
Not Knox’s father, obviously.
No, this guy’s an asshole who’s just as bad as, if not worse than, the man Knox refers to as his sperm donor. Gabe Richmond is an oversexed jerk who tried to push Bree, Claire’s daughter and Knox’s sister, into having sex with him.
His fucking stepdaughter!
All of us hate that fucker. As much as I’m relieved that Claire kicked his ass out, it also pisses me off that his selfish bullshit left her by herself with who knows what emotional damage.
She deserves so much more, and so I always give in to Knox and stay here when I’m in town. Honestly, it makes us all happy, but that’s because Wycked Obsession is like a family.
Other than True, they’re the only family I have since my own kicked me out after they found out I’m gay.
I wait for the feelings of sadness. Regret. Disappointment. The emotions that always accompany such thoughts.
They don’t come.
At least not much. If I think about it, that’s been true for a while. The closer True and I get, and the more Wycked Obsession becomes my family, the less my parents’ and siblings’ betrayal matters. In fact, I’ve come to prefer it, I think.
It’s a lot easier than hiding who I am.
“Can I get you anything else?” Claire’s question draws me out of my thoughts.
“Thanks, but no.” I shake my head, shove back a chunk of hair that falls in my face when I do, and point at my computer. “I’m going to watch the interview Noah and Paige did with Vanessa Payne. Maybe do a few other things before I go to bed. Can I do anything for you?”
“No, but thank you.” She smiles, but I can tell she’s troubled all the same. “Is . . . Baz, do you think everything will be all right?”
“Yeah. I do.” I nod with confidence, because it will be. I don’t doubt that in the least. Eventually. The only question is how much bullshit will go on before we get it all straightened out.
And what the ultimate damage might mean to the band.
Claire doesn’t look quite convinced, and I understand why. Wycked Obsession has gone through a shitstorm of gossip, rumors, and bad publicity since the summer tour started a few months ago. Maybe it’s inevitable when a new band comes out of nowhere and has some quick and pretty big success.
The tabloid shit is new to them, though. Over the summer, Knox and Bree were in the thick of things. First, the crap with their new stepfather trying to push Bree into having sex. That sent her on tour with us, which led to rumors about Bree having orgies with the band—and even hints of incest between Knox and her!
Once we got that straightened out, their father—the sperm donor—came out of the woodwork. He tried to extort money from Knox and ended up breaking everybody’s heart when he caused London to lose their baby.
Right now, though, the band’s drummer, Noah Dexter, and his old/new/whatever girlfriend are at the center of things with stories about their kinky sex life. That doesn’t even touch on the fact that Zayne, the bassist, is currently in rehab.
“Don’t worry,” I add. “It’ll all be okay. Really. London and I are on it.”
Claire smiles, relief evident, and nods. She then heads off to another part of the house, leaving me to my thoughts.
I take a few seconds to send up a little thank you to whoever or whatever might be out there listening. This gossip shit, along with the normal, everyday demands of managing a rock band, are what eat up my time and attention. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep juggling it all when the next tour starts.
Hell, I don’t even know when that is—and I usually have a handle on everything that’s going on.
Thank God for London. She takes a hell of a lot off my shoulders, but as Wycked Obsession becomes more popular, their wild success gives her more to do, too. She does all the online stuff, acts as a liaison between the band and the press, escorts them to all interviews and other events, and backs me up however she can.
That’s getting harder and harder. Now they’ve got this new, non-musical project, turning a rundown old warehouse into a studio and living space. It’s a good plan—a great plan for the long-term—but I’ve only got so many goddamn hours in a day.
Jesus, I need this vacation!
I take a healthy drink of my Shiner, ready to wake my laptop from its sleep mode, when my phone rings. I glance to where it buzzes on the table and smile.
True’s video calling.
“Hey, baby,” I answer.
His handsome face, dark eyes, and always-messy hair look back me. “Oh, baby,” he sighs. “You look tired.”
“Thanks a fuck of a lot.”
He laughs. “Sorry. I just want you to get over here and relax with me.”
“I know,” I agree. “Me, too. Soon.”
“You getting everything handled?”
“Yeah. Working on it. Noah and Paige did an interview with Vanessa Payne, and that should help.”
“Was it good?”
“Yeah.” I smile, and he smiles back. “I’ll send you a link.”
True nods, hair falling over his forehead. Wish I was there to push it back out of his eyes. Instead, I ask him, “So, how are things in paradise?”