CHAPTER ELEVEN
TRAVIS

“We’re ready for the next group!” Our resident journalist and newest member of the Amaryllis team yells from the doorway with a twisted smirk painted on her face.

“You are enjoying this a little too much. Don’t you think, Roni?” I whisper as she reclaims the seat beside me. “We’ve been auditioning these women all day. She’s not here.”

Her head tilts to the side as she cocks her eyebrows at me. “How can you question the universe like that?”

“Okay, now you’re just mocking me.” I fold my arms over my chest and rock back in my chair, lifting the front legs off the ground. “If I wanted to deal with that bullshit today then I would have just gone to see what Adair is doing.”

She pokes me in the shoulder with a well-manicured but short square-ish tipped nail. “You’re too mopey to find your soulmate today. If you want this to work, then you need to work with the plan here, buddy.”

Buddy? I’m not sure why that pissed me off, but it did, and now my blood is boiling under my skin. The last thing I want her calling me is her buddy. “Did I just get friend-zoned?”

She shrugs as she taps her pencil against her device, leaning forward to sneak a glance into the hallway where the next group should appear in the doorway any second. “Why does that matter?”

“I…” Why does it? “I don’t know.”

“Okay, then.” She presses her lips together and shrugs. “Where the hell are they?”

“Maybe they realized this is stupid, and they went home,” I grumble, still refusing to make eye contact with her. The last time I did that, it was like a bolt of electricity shot through my spine. I’m not ready to feel that again. Especially not while she’s trying to match me up with my portrait girl. “This is just weird.”

A loud echo fills the room as her hands slap down on the metal table in front of us. She shifts in her seat so she’s looking right at me.

Nope.

I’m not looking at her.

Uh-uh.

Two soft hands, with a hell of a grip, grab either side of my face. She turns my head to face her, so I have no choice but to look at her; unless I want to force my eyes shut like I’m a child. Actually, that might work… “So, you’re telling me that an open call is weird?” she asks, clearly irritated.

I nod. “This open call is weird.”

“And running around the globe, like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for a girl who was drawn for you on a Las Vegas sidewalk isn’t weird?”

My jaw drops open as I try to find the right words to explain how incredibly sane the soulmate drawing was…

I’ve got nothing.

Just as I open my mouth to tell her I’m ready to drop this entire thing, Mira walks into the room with a group of about fifteen women behind her. “Sorry, we had a few technical difficulties,” she says through a barely veiled chuckle.

“Yeah, my zipper was being a total asshole,” the woman at the back of the line says. “But we made it, anyway! Woo!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air. “Is this for like a music video or something?” she asks, her eyes growing wider. “Oh, my goodness,” she says, fanning herself with one hand as she pulls something out of her back pocket with the other. It’s a tiny vial that she holds up to her nose and sniffs… Hard.

“She is not the woman in the picture,” I whisper to Roni, whose mouth curves up in a devilish smile as she flips through the pictures on her phone. She checks the name attached to the headshot for the one who can’t stop sniffing her essential oils.

“Becky, why don’t you come on up? We’ll start with you.”

This is bullshit.

“So, tell us about yourself,” Roni says as Becky takes the chair positioned in front of the table. She’s leaning in, letting her elbows rest on the tabletop, and appears to be listening to every word the blonde across from us is saying.

I can’t hear a word of it. My mind is blocking it out, even though I would like to hear the conversation. Something tells me it’s, at the very least, amusing.

Roni’s fingers tap against the bare metal of the tabletop. She does that every time the auditionee—I really hate calling them that—loses her interest and she’s ready to move on.

I should be the one making those calls, but I’m content watching her work. She’s organized, meticulous, and decisive. It’s impressive and addictive.

She holds up her hand, signaling the woman to stop talking, but it doesn’t work. Becky just keeps going. Her words come out too fast for my brain to process.

“Thank you,” Roni says, cutting her off mid-sentence. She leans closer to me as Becky’s mouth drops open in shock. “Is this the woman of your dreams?” she whispers into my ear. Her soft full lips grazing my skin mixed with the warmth of her breath against my ear makes the spark return, shooting straight through my core.

I shake my head. “Nope.” The woman across the table is not the one for me. “None of these women are,” I say, pretending to scan the current group of women auditioning for a made-up video shoot.

“I know,” she says, leaning over her device and scrolling through the headshots. “But we have to see them, anyway.”

Sigh. “Do we though?”

“Yes,” she says without missing a beat. “We also have to see them at every tour stop along the way until we find her.”

“No fracking way. I will not find the love of my life through an open call,” I shake my head and purse my lips together, forgetting that we’re still in the company of about fifteen other people who have no clue what the hell they’re auditioning for. I glance up and catch Becky’s eyes growing wider by the second.

Shit.

Mira claps her hands together, drawing all eyes in the room to her—all eyes except for Roni’s. Hers locked onto mine like she’s searching for something. “The open call is now closed,” Mira explains. “If you were selected, you’ll hear from a member of our talent acquisition team.” She ushers the women out of the room and spins around on her heel mouthing the words, We leave in an hour, while tapping her wrist like she’s wearing a watch.

“Well, that went by faster than I expected,” Veronica says with an exasperated sigh that makes my heart heavy.

“I’m sorry I ruined your audition.”

Nothing.

I nudge her with my shoulder to get her to acknowledge my presence. “It was a good idea.”

She grunts and shrugs it off as she scrolls through notifications on her phone. “It’s not a big deal. This was for you, anyway.”

I hadn’t thought of that. She put a lot of effort into this, and I acted like a spoiled brat. “You’re right.”

Silence.

“Our next tour stop is in Salt Lake City.” Maybe I can still make things right.

“I know,” she says.

She didn’t accept the plane tickets in Dallas, and now I’ve pissed her off. What are the chances she’ll show up in Salt Lake City? Probably, slim to none at this point. I wouldn’t want to keep busting my ass to find a story when the subject was being this difficult. “Will you let us handle your transportation this time?”

“I have my car.” The lack of expression on her face seems to confirm my fears. She’ll just bolt and head back to Tulsa, leaving me to feel like a total asshole without a chance to make up for it.

Maybe I can buy more time. “That’s a lot of miles to put on your personal vehicle for a story you’re doing at our request.”

“Your request,” she reminds me. “It wasn’t Amaryllis who called me the other day. You called me. You asked me to do this for you.”

Fair. “And then I made your job more difficult.”

“Pretty much.”

Damn it. “Sorry,” I squeak out through a grimace.

“But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t need anything from those auditions,” she says with a sly smile crossing her face. “I just needed to document your reaction to them, and you gave me more than enough material for that.”

Fan-freaking-tastic. “So… why not, let me offer you a ride to make up for being an idiot?”

“I have a car,” she deadpans.

She didn’t argue with the idiot part, but she’s also not saying no. Maybe it’s a partial win. “Vic can hook it up to the back. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to get the mental picture here. You’re just going to have this massive luxury tour bus with my little But-it’s-paid-for SUV attached to the back?”

“Why not?”

“It just seems like it might draw press attention… since it would look so out of place.”

The press would love it. “You’re afraid they’ll start digging into who it belongs to, aren’t you?”

“You have made it very clear that the press is the single most annoying thing to you about your life in the spotlight.”

She’s got me there, but something tells me that’s not why she’s hesitant. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head defiantly. “Afraid is definitely not the word I would choose.”

It might be closer to accurate than she wants to admit. “Concerned?”

Her nose wrinkles as her lips curl into a sneer.

“Why does it matter if they figure out who it belongs to?” I ask.

“Uh… well…” she stammers through a series of rapid blinks. “It doesn’t… matter,” she finally says while clearing her throat.

“Okay.” Sure, it doesn’t…

“Look,” she says. “My history in this career hasn’t always been the best. Since when is it a crime to want a fresh start without the past popping up to haunt me.”

She’s obviously defensive over the subject, so whatever her reason is it’s important. I decide to let it go and take the opening she’s offered me. “That’s all the more reason for you to let us give you a ride then.” And it might give me a chance to find out more about her, and her past.

Her nose wrinkles up as she stares at me with confusion flashing in her eyes. “How?”

“If you let us give you a ride, then you’ll be with the band for more hours,” I say, hoping she hasn’t picked up on my ulterior motive of just wanting more time with her.

“I’m not sure that’s the selling point you think it is,” she giggles, poking me in the side with her elbow.

I’m going to have to work harder. “You’ll have more material to work with, so you can have that big break for your fresh start.” I think it’s working…

She chews on the inside of her cheek, as she seems to consider my offer for real this time. “Okay,” she finally agrees.

Phew. I hadn’t realized how much anxiety it was giving me until this moment, but not knowing if I could count on seeing her in the next city was enough to make me feel like I was going crazy. At least now, I can breathe a sigh of relief since we don’t have to say goodbye yet. “I’ll cooperate with the next set of… auditions.”

“Wait. Really?” She spins around with a renewed excitement in her eyes.

“Promise.” I hold up three fingers. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

“You were a scout?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I shake my head. “No… but I still promise you I won’t make things harder for you anymore. I’m also sorry I was an asshole.”

Her expression softens at my apology. “So, you still want to find her?”

I’m not sure if her excitement over helping me find my soul mate is adorable or breaking my heart. And if it is breaking my heart, then I have to ask myself why. “Yes,” I lie. I don’t want to keep looking for the portrait sketch girl. I want to find out who the woman sitting beside me is and learn what lights her up, what inspires her—and what scares her, so I can make sure she never has to face it alone. That admission to myself is enough to rock me to the core, but I swallow my nerves and attempt to hide how close I am to my breaking point. If the only way I can spend more time with Roni is through this quest to find the portrait girl, then I’m here for it. If that comes with my complete and total humiliation, then… So be it. “I still want you to help me find her.”

“Thank you,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in close. I take a deep breath, letting myself memorize the Coconut and pineapple scent of her hair. “The next one should go better, since I’ll have more time to plan it out,” she says, bringing me back into the moment.

“This one would have gone just fine,” I remind her. “If the guy you were working with wasn’t being a pain in the ass.”

She wobbles her hand in the air in a fifty-fifty motion. “You are Adair’s brother. I guess some of that had to rub off on you at some point.”

Ugh. “That’s low.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” she says with a smirk. “I have a question though.”

“Okay.”

“How do you expect to find the woman you’re looking for if you don’t get out there and search?” Her eyes darken as she waits for my answer.

Is she feeling the same thing I am, right now?

“I’m not sure…” I grab her hand, pulling her up out of her seat. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asks, reaching behind us to grab her phone off the table.

“We need to get you assigned to a bus and make sure Vic adds your car to the list of assets.” I throw my shoulder into the heavy metal door leading to the parking lot.

“My car?” she asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her free hand. “An asset?”

“Just for the list of items to check before leaving a tour stop. It’s so nothing important gets left behind.” Flashes of lights fill my vision as shutter clicks echo in the air. They’re coming from a swarm of press members lurking just on the other side of the fence.

Her grip tightens around my hand as she turns to see who is causing all the commotion. “They never stop, do they?” There’s a heaviness in her voice that I haven’t heard before. “You revoked all their passes. You could have them all detained for trespassing.”

“I know. Devon will have the local PD handle it, but it won’t stop anything. They’ll just get bailed out by whichever publisher they work for and meet us at the next stop.”

“Why does The Machine want to bury you guys?”

“It’s mostly just a competition thing. We left, and they felt we still owed them time and money. They held most of our royalties back as penalty for breaking our contract—”

“That’s intense. Did you guys fight them on it?” Her eyes are full of genuine concern.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal. We did break the contract, so we didn’t mind paying the fines. We set everything up using the money we had saved up while touring.”

“So…” Her head tilts to one side as she looks at me with confusion in her eyes. “If there wasn’t a debate over the money, then what’s their problem?”

“When Nash made his vocal debut, they tried to sign him. He said no. It pissed them off—again.”

“And now they’re looking for dirt to throw at you, so you’ll come running back and they can claim their victory over you guys.”

“Yep.” That pretty much sums it up. “There is no dirt to spread about us though, and that’s what really pisses them off.”

She nods. “I can see why. They still have Stone on payroll, and he finds himself on the front page every other week.”

“Exactly. And the worst part for them is that everything the press prints about Stone is true.”

“But…” she nods as she turns back to focus her gaze on the swarm of headline hunters on the other side of the fence, “they can’t find anything on you that’s real.”

I nod with my lips pressed together in a tight line. “Now, you’re catching on. They make it up as they go, to deflect from the idiot they still have signed to their label.”

“There can’t be that many outlets willing to print whatever the highest bidder tells them to.”

“Isn’t there?” I watch as her eyes shift their gaze from the fence line to where some guys in our crew are putting around the lot on their mini bikes.

“What are they doing?” she asks, squinting because of the sun, which is directly overhead now.

I shrug and stuff my free hand in my pocket, keeping my other one wrapped around hers. “It looks like they’re trying to ramp pocket rockets.”

“Is that normal?”

“Yeah.” It’s the day after a show. I remind myself she doesn’t know what the tour life looks like, except for what someone can find on the internet. “There’s always lots of energy to burn out after a show. We all get bored sometimes, so everyone has something they bring with them to keep their energy up between shows.”

“Even with Carter riding his bike in the same parking lot?” she asks, flicking a finger behind us toward where he’s peddling around by London and Griffin’s bus.

“Par for the course, I guess.” I tug on her hand and motion toward my bus. “They know he’s here. They’ll be careful. Let’s go.”

“Travis Miller!” That same guy from the VIP Meet and Greet must have busted over the fence, because he is hauling ass across the parking lot and snapping pictures through his phone’s camera. There’s no way he could be paying attention to anything going on around him. This idiot is going to make Carter crash. He stopped just in front of where Carter is riding his bike, but he’s looking at the ground in front of his wheel and doesn’t see the dude.

“Get out of here!” I yell, drawing Devon’s attention to the situation from where he’s debriefing his team and prepping them for the next venue. He tears out across the lot, aiming to intercept the guy who is now running at full speed toward where I’m standing with Roni. Her hands grip mine as she stiffens beside me. “Don’t worry,” I say to reassure her.

A loud whir from behind us means the riders haven’t seen our intruder either. He’s back on his knees with his camera, trying to get a shot. They’re headed right for him.

“Look up!” I growl loud enough to be heard over the commotion. It worked. He finally looks up and apparently, they saw him too, because both riders overcorrect sending themselves flying across the lot in opposite directions.

Roni lets go of my hand and runs at full speed across the lot to where Carter is still riding, unaware of the shit-show unfolding all around him. One of the pocket rockets is aiming right for him. Instead of pulling it together, the rider bails off and lets the motorcycle keep going forward at full speed. “What the hell?” I yell, chasing after Roni who gets there just in time. She grabs Carter, by his shoulders and yanks him off the seat just as the small motorcycle smashes into his robot decal covered bicycle. They tumble to the ground, with her arms still wrapped around him, protecting him from hitting the asphalt and letting him land on top of her instead.

“Are you guys, okay?” I ask when I finally reach Roni and Carter. They are pushing themselves up off the ground as I reach out to help them both get to their feet. “You reacted faster than I could even process what was happening.”

She shakes her head and helps Carter unbuckle his helmet. “Are you okay?” she asks him.

He nods. “I’m fine.” He turns around and looks at his bicycle, which is currently lying on the pavement with a black and red motorcycle on top of it with its engine still spitting and sputtering. “Is my bike trashed?”

“Carter!” Griffin yells as he closes the last bit of distance between where he is and where we’re standing. “Are you okay?”

Carter nods.

“What happened?” Griffin asks, running up and kneeling beside his adopted son. “You’re not hurt?”

Carter shrugs. “I’m fine.” He nods toward his bike. “Can I get a new one if it’s broken?”

Griffin lets out a booming guffaw, holding Carter close to his chest. “Of course, you can.”

Devon is wrestling with the trespasser and has some backup now with two members of his team, helping to escort the guy off the premises.

Griffin cups his hands over his mouth. “Devon, Amaryllis is definitely pressing charges.”

“Don’t worry, guys.” Devon nods, as she shoves the guy through the gate. “He won’t be back.”

I make a note on my phone to ask him later for the guy’s information, so if there are medical bills from the two crew members who crashed and are now dusting themselves off and comparing battle damage, we can forward the expenses to him.