Coming into Focus, page 9
“Jimmy,” I grumbled, not willing to come fully awake. “I’m not eating oatmeal unless you are. If one of us needs to monitor his cholesterol, it’s not me.”
“All right. We’ll order oatmeal again tomorrow. One of these mornings, we’re bound to make a good decision.”
I still sensed someone’s stare. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
“There she is!” Eric turned to Jimmy. “Is she even old enough? Do Americans age differently? You found her in Nashville? Are we going to get in trouble for kidnapping or something? Does she talk like a cowgirl?”
What was with these British boys and their preoccupation with cowgirls? “He didn’t find me; I found him, and I don’t talk like a cowgirl.”
Eric wasn’t as gorgeous as Jimmy because few people are, but he was close. He had light brown hair, short on the sides and an artful tangle on top. Bright green eyes and gorgeous bone structure. His cheekbones were high, his jaw was square, and he had a dimple in his chin. Unlike Jimmy, even at the height of his efforts, Eric had perfect beard scruff.
He tilted his head. “You kinda do. I’m just being honest. Not trying to be racist.”
“You sound a bit like Mary Poppins,” I said. “Not trying to be racist.”
He laughed. “She’s a sassy cowgirl, Jimmy! Good find.”
Jimmy poured himself some coffee. “Her freckles make her look younger than she is.”
Oliver’s voice rumbled under me. “Do you have freckles? I love freckles.”
“You’re going to have to get up, darlings,” Jimmy said to those of us in bed. “We have loads to do. You can’t sprawl on my band all day, Willa.”
I sat up and stretched, then peeked over my shoulder.
I liked the physical reality of Oliver.
A lot.
His dark hair was thick and wavy, and his eyes were a deep, dark brown. His bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top lip. I tried not to imagine what it would be like to bite it. His left arm was covered in a full tattoo sleeve, which went over his shoulder and partway down his chest. I promised myself I could study his tattoos more later if I could stop gawking at him now.
He didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at me, too. “You’re different than I expected,” he said.
I couldn’t read his expression. Different good? Or different bad? Or different who-cares-she’s-just-the-assistant? “Don’t tell me,” I said. “You were expecting a cowboy hat.”
When he smiled, his eyes scrunched up, and there was flash of dimples.
He could have looked like a troll—with that voice, I was already in trouble. But he did not look like a troll, and it was game over for me. I didn’t stand a chance.
“I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a cowboy hat,” he said.
“She doesn’t even own one,” Jimmy said disgustedly. “Or boots! She’s very half-assed at being a cowgirl.”
I crawled out of bed, sneaking another peek at Oliver’s abs on my way out. “Please tell me there’s coffee left, Jimmy.”
Oliver made it to the table in a couple strides. I stopped in my tracks. The tattoo sleeve went partway down his shoulder. His back was strong, his legs were long, and his ass was amazing.
I obviously needed coffee to clear my mind so I could stop leering at a man who was technically one of my bosses.
“I need the coffee,” Oliver said.
Jimmy held the coffee away from him. “Believe me, we’ll be sorry if she doesn’t have coffee. She is mean when the caffeine withdrawals start.”
I took the mug he poured me, then went to the phone to order more coffee.
When I turned back around, he screamed. “Willa! What are you wearing?”
I smiled at him. “My pajamas.”
“I bought you tons of cute pajamas. Why are you wearing this ratty old thing?” He held out his hand, palm up. “Let me have it right now,” he insisted. “This garment is not getting on the bus with us. I’ve told you! I cannot be exposed to polyester. It gives me hives. I refuse it, Willa. Never again.”
“It’s not that bad,” Oliver said.
“Don’t defend her,” Jimmy said. “She does it intentionally to upset me. I’m docking your pay, Willa. I’m fining you. Every time you wear synthetic fiber, I’m fining you two hundred pounds.”
“All right. Call Hawk and tell him to take money from my paycheck because you don’t like my nightgown. He won’t do it because he loves me. Are you going to finish the biscuits?”
“Eat whatever you want,” he said. “You’ve put me right off my food. And you’re deluding yourself. Just because Hawk finds you less distasteful than he finds the rest of us does not mean he ‘loves’ you.”
He was right—I was bluffing. I actually had no idea what Hawk thought of me. I was so intimidated by him that we’d never had a real conversation, and the fact he could never remember my name didn’t feel like a particularly good sign.
“Aw, Jimmy,” I said, “Don’t be mad.” I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“I will not hug someone who is intentionally cruel. You’re aging me by even touching me with that appalling thing.”
I kissed the top of his head then released him and sat in the chair across from him. “If you hadn’t been drunk, you could have stopped this in progress. It’s your punishment. It’s aversion therapy.”
“It’s tremendous overkill,” he said. “Ridiculous behavior.” He paused. “It’ll probably work. Will you agree never to wear it again unless I’m as drunk as I was last night?”
“Deal,” I said. “If I agree not to wear this again, will you wear whatever pajamas I pick for you? Even if they have unicorns on them?”
“Deal,” he agreed. “But don’t think because you won, I don’t realize how manipulative you are. Because I do realize it.”
“Got it. If you want the first shower, you should get in there now. I’ll pack your stuff and make you a day sheet. Oh! Three day sheets, now. Coming right up.”
When the door closed behind Jimmy, Oliver and Eric stood in front of me.
They loomed over me. Feeling at a height disadvantage, I got to my feet.
I was still at a height disadvantage. I crossed my arms across my chest and briefly regretted my nightwear choice. It wasn’t easy to be authoritative in a nightie.
Eric was probably only around six inches taller than me. Oliver had close to a foot on me. He was only wearing black boxer briefs, and he seemed much more comfortable with that than I was.
Eric launched into it. “Listen. This thing you’re doing with Jimmy—”
I figured my best bet was to come out swinging. “This thing? You mean this job he hired me to do? Which I’m doing per my contract? That ‘thing’?”
Eric looked at Oliver, who shook his head and said, “Listen, you might have pulled it over on Jimmy, but—”
I scoffed. “I didn’t pull anything over on Jimmy. He begged me to come save him. Getting away from home suited me, so I agreed. I figure if I can handle him, I can handle you guys.” I shrugged. “I’m not off to a good start with you two like I was with him, so maybe not.”
Eric gave me a big smile. “I like her, Oliver. She’s not impressed by him at all.”
“I don’t think she’s particularly impressed by any of us,” Oliver murmured. To me, he said, “You’re a bit self-righteous for someone who was sleeping in his bed.”
“Code word there is sleeping, champ,” I said. “I practically sat on him to keep him from going back to the bar, and then we fell asleep.”
“That’s how it is?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business, but yes. That’s how it is.”
Eric leaned forward. “We’re doing bad-cop-bad-cop,” he whispered. “Hang in there.” To Oliver, he said, “Listen, mate. Maybe Jimmy found a mythical creature—someone who doesn’t want to sleep with him. This is a massive win.”
Oliver almost pulled off the intimidation routine, with his stiff posture and clenched jaw, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. “We’re bullying you so if you’re bad for Jimmy, we can get rid of you now.”
“I don’t think she is,” Eric said to him.
“I don’t think she is either,” Oliver said, without taking his eyes off me. “Are you, Willa?”
“Am I intimidated? Or bad for Jimmy?”
“Either,” Eric said.
“Neither. You’re not intimidating, and I’m not bad for Jimmy.” Even as I said it, I questioned if it was entirely true.
Eventually, I was going to have to leave, like however many assistants before me. The reason he refused to consider it was because it caused him pain.
“I like this job, I like him, and I need the money.” I paused. “Whether or not I like you guys remains to be seen.”
They were silent, and then both laughed.
The tension was broken, and it was okay.
For now.
Oliver extended a hand, and we shook on it. Eric gave me a hug. When he released me, he put his hands on my shoulders. “Willa. Listen. Can we talk about eyeliner? Because Jimmy says you put eyeliner on him, and you should also do it for me.”
“I will,” I said.
“Tell me this. How did you win Hawk over? Because I’ve worked with him for years, and I haven’t managed it.”
Jimmy came out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist, one around his neck, one turbaned around his head, and he was using one to dry his face. “Willa loves Hawk,” he said, joining right in. “She reckons he looks like a sexy pirate. You want to walk his plank, right, Willa? I can tell by the face she makes when we talk about him. Hey, where’s the leave-in conditioner? I can’t find it.” He rustled through my suitcase. He paused and noted the way we were facing off. “Oh. They’ve done bad-cop-bad-cop already, eh? I already told you guys; Willa is different. That will never work on her.”
“Did you use every single clean towel?” I asked. “Again?”
He reluctantly unwound the towel wrapped around his hair and tossed it to me.
“Does anyone mind if I take the next shower?” I asked.
Oliver gestured me toward the bathroom.
I heard Jimmy’s start talking as I closed the bathroom door behind me. “So, what’s the verdict? How did she do? Not that I even care because I’ve made my decision, and it’s done.”
I turned the water on right away, hoping to drown out their conversation. I needed a break from Oliver’s voice to regain my equilibrium.
I probably should have done my research on him before he got here so I could have braced for the impact. I must have seen him on television or in a magazine or something before, but it hadn’t registered. Pretty rock stars are easy to ignore until you find yourself on top of them. I’d have to shield against his power, that’s all. I could do it. Starting right now. I didn’t need more distractions, and I didn’t need more ties. It was going to be hard enough to leave Jimmy without getting more embedded.
Also, I was Willa Reynolds. I wasn’t the type of woman who made a habit of almost-threesomes in spite of my recent behavior. Head in the game, I told myself. Eyes on the prize. I didn’t want to leave here with nothing to show for it but a laundry list of things I’d done for Jimmy—like his laundry.
The problem was that my “prize” of a growing portfolio was useless if it was filled with things I didn’t own. I needed a way to motivate him to get my contract fixed. It was my best hope.
Chapter Ten
After a couple interviews in the morning, we made our way to the tour bus. I was seriously impressed by our new accommodations. A tour bus was a nice way to travel.
Jimmy told me that in the past, their bus was packed with roadies and sometimes an opening act or two, but this tour was “an evening with,” so there was no opener. A small road crew would follow in their own bus. They could afford to travel by themselves now, and Eric wanted the space and privacy so it would be easier for them to write new songs. He was already planning for their next album and wanted to build as much new material as they could during the tour.
Jimmy showed me around the bus. First was the front lounge, with a kitchenette booth, a mini-fridge, a sink, a microwave, and a small range. I followed him to the front, where he opened the curtains to a bunk above the driver’s seat. “This is Tucker’s. This will be the last time we ever witness it. We never ever go up there, and if her curtains are closed, talk quietly, and use headphones if you have anything with sound. We need her to be rested because she keeps us safe.”
“Got it,” I said.
“We don’t want her listening to us,” Eric said. “Loose lips sink ships.”
Oliver filled in the blanks. “There’s no way Hawk would know everything he does without eyes on the inside,” he said. “There’s only one person it could be.”
“She, like, tattles on you?”
“Your skepticism is noted,” Jimmy said, “but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I had a cigarette once, and he sent me an email the next day with horror stories of musicians who’d ruined their voices and careers by smoking.”
Eric chimed in, “I referred to him as a rotting old twat one time—just once!—and my royalty checks unexpectedly stopped for a while.”
“Jimmy and Eric got in a fight over a woman once, and he called in the middle of it and told me to get rid of the girl and put them both in time out,” Oliver said.
We continued exploring the bus. Behind the front lounge, there were four bunks. “Me and Oliver already called all-time bottom bunk ages ago. You’ll be on top.” Jimmy patted a hand on the top right bunk. “You sleep above Oliver, and Eric will sleep above me.” He held my face in his hands. “Now I have to tell you something important, Willa. When you’re up in your bunk and you close the curtains, that’s privacy.”
“Are they soundproof?”
“Utterly.”
“Not at all,” Oliver said. “But this is tour bus étiquette. You have to act as if sound doesn’t go out and it doesn’t come in.”
“If your curtains are closed, sound doesn’t come through from the outside. If we’re talking about boy stuff, you can’t hear it,” Jimmy said, still holding my face.
“You’ll be able to hear it,” Oliver said. “You have to pretend you can’t.”
“If you’re talking about boy stuff? Is there anything you ever don’t say out of respect for me being a woman?” I asked Jimmy. “Seriously. I’m asking. Have you ever had a thought and then decided, ‘No. I won’t say this one’?”
“I’m keeping a thought to myself right now,” he said haughtily, “and it’s that you’re being rude.”
I paused to let it sink in. “You see what you did there? How you—”
“You’re not concentrating, and this is important.” He finally released me. “Do you understand? Curtains. It’s the most important part of tour bus living. Otherwise, we’d probably kill each other. You have to have privacy, even if it’s only imaginary.” He opened the curtains to the bunk he’d claimed. “See? If my curtains are like this, you can be all, ‘Hello, Jimmy, you ravishing man. Do you want a sandwich?’” He yanked them shut. “Then like this,” he shook his head, “there’s nothing. Not a peep. Even if there is.”
“Got it,” I said. “What else?”
He guided me by the elbow past the bunks into a bigger space in the back. “This is the lounge. This is our hang-out spot.”
I plopped onto the couch and spread my arms across the back. “I love this. It’s going to be great. Like camping, but better.”
They all smiled at each other. “She’s not even kidding,” Jimmy said. “She has the weirdest ideas.”
Eric said, “After a few days, you’re going to want to smother us in our sleep, Willa. Everything is magnified on a bus. Sound, smell. Everyone’s bad habits.”
“It’s harder to live on a bus than you think,” Oliver said.
“Nah,” I said. “It’ll be great.” This glorified RV was more my style than fancy hotel rooms anyway.
~ * ~
“Hey, Jimmy, is there really nothing going on between you and Willa?”
“Um, there’s tons going on between Willa and me. We understand each other on a metaphysical level, Eric. We are of one mind. Our souls can communicate without words because—”
“I mean sexually. There’s no sex?”
We were on the bus, a couple shows into their tour. Tour bus bunks might have been too small for Oliver, a fact he’d mentioned grumpily more than once, but they were perfect for me. I was snuggled in, contemplating how strange it was to be so at ease on a bus with men I’d just met, when Eric’s voice distracted me.
He knew the answer to the question. For one thing, I’d already told him. Secondly, the four of us were always together. The only time I was alone was when they were on stage. Even for soundcheck—I was there. Jimmy loved having an entourage dressed in band aesthetic, even if it was a small entourage. He couldn’t resist it. He would strut into the venue holding my hand, purely for the joy of being seen with his coordinating American Barbie.
In addition to all that, the demands on my time had only increased since Eric and Oliver joined us. More laundry, more groceries, more coffee to make and food to prepare. More luggage to organize. More speakers to monitor in interviews. I didn’t mind the time it didn’t leave for sex—it was good to be needed. I was in my element.
There’s no way Jimmy and I could be hooking up, even if we wanted to. There was never time for it.
He sighed. “Oh, Eric. I’m disappointed in you. You should be able to tell things are much more profound between Willa and me, but I guess you have no experience with something like this.”
“You’ve never fucked her? Not even a tiny bit?”
“Never.”
“Sexist,” I chimed in from my bunk. “Fucking is a mutual activity. It’s not an act performed upon a woman.”
“We can’t hear you out here, Gloria Steinem,” Jimmy said. “Your curtains are closed.”
“Isn’t the person who penetrates the one who’s fucking?” Eric asked. “I’m pretty sure that’s the way it works, Willa. The person penetrating is the fucker, and the person who gets penetrated gets fucked.”
