CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GRIFFIN

The double sliding doors swish open as a middle-aged man in a yellow vest plasters on a customer service smile. “Welcome. Let us know if we can help you find anything,” he says.

“Thanks, man.” I spot Carter and London in the produce section. “Hey,” I yell like an idiot as I jog across the bright white tile floor.

London smirks from behind the bin of produce she is currently studying. “Hey yourself. Did Nigel throw a fit that we had to stop?”

“Nah. He’s used to it. I usually need to make unexpected stops at least once or twice a week.”

“Really?”

“I don’t like letting the crew do shopping for me. It seems gross. Like… Servant go and fetch my things from the local market.” I cringe. My obsession with medieval knights has done very little to improve my acting skills.

She crooks an eyebrow at me clearly fighting back a laugh. Carter doesn’t even try to fight his back and lets a belly laugh roar out.

“It’s okay. You can make fun of me. That was a terrible attempt at an accent.”

“It totally was. It might be the worst fake accent I’ve ever heard,” she says with a coy smile.

“Awesome. Totally what I was going for.” I got a smile.

She holds up a bag of oranges. “I would normally buy this, but I’m not used to living on a bus.”

I shake my head and rip a plastic bag off the spindle. “You’ll probably need to just pick out two or three instead of a whole bag.”

“Hmm.” She purses her lips together.

“That’s exactly why there are several unexpected stops a week. There’s really not much for storage for…” I take the bag of oranges and put them back in the bin. “Bulk shopping.”

Her full pink lips transform into a pout and I am dead. “Isn’t it going to be really difficult getting to the grocery store every other day?”

“Are you kidding?” I drop a few oranges into the bag, tie it up and hand it over to her for inspection. “We can stop literally anytime you need to stop. Just say the word.”

She gives me a deadpan stare as she drops the oranges in the cart.

“It’s not like they can start the show without us.” I give her my best showman’s pose with my hands on my hips and jut out my chin.

A groan escapes as she rolls her eyes. “Is this where the rockstar ego finally shows up?”

“What do you mean?” I’m not sure I want to hear this explanation.

She bobs her head from side-to-side as if she’s trying to decide whether or not to answer me. “You know something, Mister Rockstar?”

I hated it the first time she called me ‘Mister Rockstar,’ but I’ve grown to love the way it rolls off her tongue. I may hate the image they’ve drummed up for me in the gossip rags, but if she wants me to be her rockstar then I’ll be her rockstar all day long.

“You haven’t shown the slightest bit of rockstar ego. Not even once.” She pokes her finger in my chest and I instinctively flex my muscles. That look in her eye gives her away.

She liked it.

“What about when you got mad at me for scaring Nigel straight?” I immediately cringe. Things are finally going well. I’ve got her talking, smiling, and teasing me… And then I go and ask an idiotic thing, like that? Clearly, I have some deep-rooted psychological issues here.

“I don’t think that’s what that was.” She rubs the bottom of her chin and turns her back to me, pretending to scan the rest of the produce. “I think that was an entirely different issue.”

Groan.

Carter tugs at the hem on her shirt and points to the bakery.

“Okay. Just a minute,” she says.

A chance to redeem myself! “I can take him to the bakery if you want,” I offer as I reach out to take Carter’s hand. London’s deer-in-headlights look is enough to convince me that I shouldn’t have said that either. I pull my hand right back and stuff it in my pocket. “Did I say something wrong?” Silence.

Bad timing?

It was probably bad timing.

I just offered to take him to the bakery. It’s only a few steps over to the left. Not a big deal. Right?

I might be dead wrong.

Her expression morphs between concern and potential death glares before settling back into the look I know so well from her—concern.

Well, now I feel like a total jerk. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to help. I swear.”

“I appreciate it, but I can take him as soon as we’ve finished here.” She grabs Carter’s hand a little tighter. A protective instinct, I get it, but it still makes my heart ache. “Perfect,” I say, ignoring the feeling of dread taking up residence in the pit of my stomach.

How could I have ignored such an obvious warning marker? I wanted to help and instead I made her feel like she needs to protect Carter, and herself, from me. “Are you planning on making smoothies?” I ask hoping to keep myself from sinking too far into my own thoughts like the self-absorbed prick I can sometimes be.

“Huh?” She asks still a million miles away, probably trying to decide if she should give me a sweep kick or asking herself if I am just an idiot. The latter is definitely accurate.

I want her back in the moment with me. See? Selfish. “The oranges.” I point to the bag resting in the bottom of our shopping cart. I like how that sounds… Ours. “Are you planning on making smoothies?”

“Oh! No.” She blinks her eyes a few times as she comes back from wherever her mind had led her. “I hadn’t even thought of that, yet.”

“Well, we need to fix that don’t we?” I scan the section for anything that looks even remotely smoothie related and come up empty. “What do you need for them?” I hold up a carton of strawberries.

She shakes her head no. “Carter hates strawberries.”

He makes a face and sticks out his tongue.

“Strawberries are vile. Got it.” I return the carton to its rightful place in the refrigerated bin. “How about blueberries?”

She nods, I toss the small carton in the cart.

“Other random fruit, I have no clue what it is?” I squint at the odd-shaped fruit holding it up for her inspection.

She shakes her head. “I don’t even know how to eat that.” She laughs and it helps soothe my still rattled nerves. I put weirdo-fruit back on the shelf and keep going. I lift each item up for her approval or rejection, until the small cart is almost half-full, and she finally rolls her neck to the side as she considers our impressive fruit haul. “I think that’s everything here.” She grabs my arm. “Will you help me remember to grab almond milk before we leave.”

“Sure. Anything you want.” Literally anything. “Time for sugar overload.” I give Carter a high-five, grabbing one side of the cart as he grabs the other.

His face lights up. “Can we get cupcakes?” His dark brown eyes seem to get bigger the longer he stares up at his mom waiting for the coveted yes.

She lets out a soft sigh and whispers in his ear, but I overhear it. “The bank is holding the transfer for a few days. I can get a small pack of cupcakes, but we can’t go crazy. Okay?” She runs her fingers through his hair, and I recognize the look of a worried mom. It’s the same look my mom used to give me and my brothers when we’d ask for stuff, nothing extraordinary, but when you’re a parent on a tight budget even asking for the smallest things can be gut-wrenching. No parent enjoys having to say no to their child.

Carter scans the refrigerated cases, his eyes darting back and forth between chocolate cupcakes decorated with green icing and ninja turtles and a box of mixed cupcakes with gray and blue icing topped with transforming robots in battle stances.

Still holding on to the front of the cart I nod in Carter’s direction. “He reminds me of myself at that age. Hell, he reminds of me now. I still can’t decide when it comes to food. That’s why I tend to favor the all-you-can-eat buffets.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” she deadpans. “I would love to get him both, but the advance hasn’t cleared the bank yet. You know, twenty-five-thousand-dollar drops aren’t really a regular thing for my account.” Just when I thought London James couldn’t get any more adorable, she bites her lip and rolls her eyes. “They’re holding on to it to make sure someone in accounting didn’t completely screw up by sending it to me.”

“I get it.”

“We’re fine.” She holds up a hand, shaking her head. “We’ll just stick to our normal budget. My last closing gave us enough to get us through for a little over a month, but it’s almost gone now. Not a huge deal, since the funds are pending.” Her face brightens with a hopeful smile. “That will be like six months’ worth of income all at once. It’s really nice not having to worry about where the next payday is going to come from for a while.”

“Closing?” I search the files marked in my brain as Random things I learned while watching TV, homing in on something I heard during a home renovation show. “Realtor?”

“Yeah. I decided to get my license as soon as I found out Carter was on his way.” 

“Do you enjoy it?”

A wry smile crosses her lips as she makes a fifty-fifty gesture with her hand. “Sometimes it’s great and other times it’s incredibly stressful because you never know if you’re going to get that payday, or if everything you’ve done for your client has really just been a huge waste of time.”

“Yikes. That sounds completely stressful.”

“To say the least, but I’ve been extremely lucky to have a career that allowed me to keep Carter with me… at least most of the time.”

“What about the rest of the time?”

She smiles. “My parents help a lot.” 

That makes sense. My phone buzzes from my pocket. I pull it out and swipe the screen. “It looks like Vic needs me to grab a few things, other than what’s on the list he gave me before I came in.”

London’s eyebrows furl in confusion. “Huh?”

“One person has to stay with the bus at all times.” I lift my lucky ball cap to push a hand through my hair before quickly replacing it. “It’s in the tour contracts. We all have to sign them at the start of each tour.”

“So, he can’t leave the bus… until the tour is over?”

“He can. There just has to be someone else on the bus who agrees to stay until he gets back.”

“Oh.”

“I told him I needed to grab a few things and offered to get him anything he needed while we were in here. That’s why it took me a minute to catch up to you.”

“So, Mister Rockstar Extraordinaire, offered to go shopping for his bus driver?” She’s intrigued with the complete disconnect between the real me and who the media portrays me to be. I can see it in her eyes.

I also hate the media. Have I mentioned that? “You’ve got the basics right.” I take two short steps to stand beside her at the opposite end of the shopping cart.

“The basics?” she asks.

“Two things.” I hold up one finger. “Number one, I’m just Griffin Miller. A regular guy with an irregular job.”

She nods slowly and I hope that means she’s letting herself digest the full meaning of what I just said. “Okay, Just Griffin Miller. What’s the second thing?”

Her snark catches me off guard and I let out a guffaw in the middle of the bakery. “We could go with Griffin.”

“I don’t know. It’s either Mister Rockstar or Just Griffin. I think it’s going to depend on my mood and how diva-ish you’re being in that exact moment.”

I really don’t want her to see me as anything other than plain ol’ Griffin, but I’ll take what I can get. “I’ll keep the diva fits to a minimum. The second thing is that Vic isn’t just my driver. He’s—”

“Family,” she finishes my sentence for me, and I really like that she can already do that.

“Exactly,” I say with a smile as I lean just a little closer and take in the scent of her perfume just a little more. It’s vanilla and something else, I can’t quite tell what it is, but it’s heaven. “And now you and Carter are part of the family too.” I pull out the solid black credit card from my wallet and hand it to her. “This is just as much for you two as it is for any of us.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head and holds up her hands as she retreats backwards knocking a heel into the refrigerated bakery case, which makes her stumble.

She’s so ridiculously cute, it’s too much. But… Why is she so damn stubborn?

And why do I like it so much? I’m screwed up in the head.

“I don’t see why not. You’re a part of this tour just like the rest of us, and you should be able to tap into the tour expense budget too.”

“We don’t need anyone taking care of us. The bank will release the funds in a few days and then I’ll be able to take care of us, and my parents, and buy everyone dinner every single night of tour.” She purses her lips together and crosses her arms over her chest.

“The Machine covers dinners every night that we play. They have to. The other nights are on us.” I put the card in her hand and fold her fingers over it. “This is yours. Use it anytime you want to.”

Her mouth gapes open.

I swipe a note on my phone to remind me to call the credit card company and request a second card.

---

“So…” Adair leans against the door frame of the green room. He’s already in his standard show uniform. “Did you and Miss Ripped-black-jeans have a good time?”

“Shut up.” I rummage through the clothes waiting for me. I decide to go with the dark blue and purple branded t-shirt tonight. After being relaxed with London and Carter all day, being able to just be me, I don’t feel like putting on the charade tonight.

Adair lets out raucous laughter that threatens to bring down the walls. “I thought you might say thank you.”

“How did you pull that one off? And yes… I do owe you one. Thank you.”

“Nah. I didn’t do anything.” He chuckles and nudges me out of the way so he can get to the mirror.

“Did you, or didn’t you?” He’s always such a cryptic pain in the ass.

“After Carly hopped on board, I may have told the driver that we were all on board and ready to roll.” He smirks. “I didn’t want to risk her jumping off.” 

“Well, thanks.” I do appreciate him helping me manage to spend that extra time with London and Carter. Wait… “What’d you say about Carly?”

“Nothing.” He cocks his head to the side as he forces his dreads into a hairband. “What happened that made you miss load-in and soundcheck?”

“Carter was hungry,” I say matter-of-factly.

His eyebrows draw together in confusion as he’s still focused on his reflection and tucking the last dread into place. “Who’s Carter?”

“Her son.”

“She brought a kid?” He swings around with his eyes wide and jaw dropped open.

“Of course, she’s a single mom.” I shrug. “Where else would she have him go?”

Adair’s eyes narrow as he thinks it over. “I guess without Stone, it won’t really be an issue.”

“Right.” I give him a warning glare. “You will need to cool it with all of your trying to make Carly jealous shenanigans. We don’t want to screw up any bright and super impressionable young minds while they’re here.”

“Ah, c’mon.” He’s not his usually confident, loud and obnoxious self. He seems almost… reserved, if that’s even possible for Adair. “You know they don’t mean anything.”

Pfft. Such an immature response. I should expect that from him though. He’s had the most difficult time adjusting since the accident. “They might not mean anything to you, but they do mean something.”

“Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He rolls his eyes and stalks toward the door.

“It means,” I grab the back of his shirt and spin him around to face me, “you’re throwing away any chance you have to actually be happy… again.”

“Fuck off.”

“You know I’m right.”

“So, what if you are? I don’t get to be happy if it means hurting Carly to do it.”

“Do you really think seeing you with a different woman every other night isn’t hurting her?”

Silence. 

“Christ.” I drag my hand down my face. “You’ve done this ever since we lost Mom and Dad.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“It’s not your fault they’re gone. You don’t have to live your life paying some penance for lives you didn’t take.”

“Like hell it’s not my fault.”

“Adair, we all lost them. It wasn’t just you.”

“I know that.” He rubs two fingers across his temples. “But it is my fault that we all lost our parents. My. Fault.”

“No, it’s not.” He’s always blamed himself. I don’t know why I feel like anything I say in this moment can change that. It’s going to take someone with a lot more skill and a whole slew of degrees and credentials to make that happen.

“You can say that because you weren’t the spoiled ass little brat who wanted to impress his girlfriend and threw a fit because his mom didn’t bring home the right flavor of ice cream cake. They went back to get it right.” He makes air quotes around the last word.

“You were a kid.”

“So?” His voice cracks as he throws his arms out wide. “We lost our parents because they were loving and kind, and I was…” He grips the back of his neck with both hands and pulls bringing his chin to his chest. “I wasn’t either of those things. Still not, apparently.”

“Or not.” I let out a long sigh and wrap my brother into a man-hug. “You can’t change what happened, but it wasn’t your fault. The only person at fault is sitting behind bars for the rest of the foreseeable future.”

“Great. Another life I screwed up.”

“Get over yourself, Adair.” I nudge him on the shoulder forcing him to stand upright and look at me. I’m a dude, and one that doesn’t do this mushy-wushy stuff very well at all. Nash is the one who stepped up and took care of us all after the accident. I did my part, but he’s the one who has a knack for this stuff. Not me. “The rest of us went to grief counseling, maybe you could—”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, I deserved that for trying to help you.” Irrational, cocky, annoying…

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Clearly. So, let’s change the subject.” I gesture toward the sound check area. “She’s a good woman, Adair.”

“That’s why I need to keep her as far away from me as possible.” He’s resigned to his stance for the time being. Adair is a great guy. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, a little immature, but who of us isn’t? He’s also one shitty decision away from becoming Stone 2.0. There is absolutely no use in attempting to reason with him when he gets like this, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

“Good luck with that. I saw your face when she was talking to the security guards. You’ll grow up one day.”

“Maybe. Like you are playing house with the new girl and her kid?”

“Watch your mouth,” I warn him. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s also a huge pain in the ass. “I’m glad they’re both here. He’s a great kid and he had an absolute blast running up and down the aisles throwing everything that caught his eye into the cart.”

“She’s already falling into the rhythm of rockstar luxury, huh?” He’s not being a dick. His words come out pained. I would feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so annoyed with him right now.

“Hardly,” I scoff. London tried to tell Carter to slow down on picking stuff out because she’s sensible and a wonderful mom, if I hadn’t already pieced that together then today would have shown me just how much she cares about her son and how well-balanced she really is. “When I reminded her that I like to eat and, if I was going to be on that bus until Denver, we’re going to need a lot of food, she gave in. That’s also when I caught the look in her eye that said she was considering kicking me in the shin and telling me to get lost, but—”

“Ha! I like her already.” And he’s back to being himself.

“Carter was way too excited to make him turn it down even a single notch, and if I can make either of them smile then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What did you do?”

“I may have led her to believe that the extra expense account is paid for by The Machine.”

“You mean you didn’t tell her you are the one who foots the bill for all that?”

“Nope. I sure as hell did not, and you better not tell her either. I am one-thousand percent sure that she would have refused if she knew.”

“You’re going to have to tell her at some point. Lies are no way to start a relationship, bro.”

“You’re one to talk.” I know. I know. I’m an asshole, but he needs to hear the truth. I’m also a hypocrite because I didn’t tell London the truth. Gah! “She actually threw a few things in the cart for herself after that though. I get the feeling she’s always had to be the one to take care of everyone else. It wouldn’t hurt for her to know that she can rely on someone else to pick up the slack now and then.”

“Too bad she doesn’t know that since she thinks The Machine paid for it.” He tilts his head to the side and pats me on the shoulder. “I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but I appreciate you trying to look out for me.”

I nod.

“Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

“Of what?” What is happening right now?

“You’re already really into this girl and you’ve known her less than four days.” He nods toward the exit to the stage. “This is all going to be over in ninety days, and then what happens?”

“We go back in the studio to record more music.” I shrug. “So what?”

“And she goes back to Tulsa.”

Christ.

“I don’t want to get all…” he cringes, “whatever, with you. I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point, but if you’re serious about her and not just getting caught up in the on-road life—”

“The on-road life?” I push my hand through my hair. “Christ, Adair, that’s never been an issue for me, has it?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it’s easy to feel lonely when you’re out here on the road. That’s especially true when you start feeling like you might want to plant some roots.”

“Are we still talking about me?”

“Never mind.” He perks up and flashes that signature Adair grin. The women love it, I just want to smack him on the back of the head because I know it means he’s about to create a mess Nash and I will have to clean up for him. He checks his reflection one last time before ducking through the door and heading toward what I like to call the Holding Pen. It’s the area backstage where we meet and psych each other up for this completely unnatural thing of being on stage and performing like circus animals.

I push out a deep breath. One. Two. Three…

He’s obviously projecting his feelings about Carly onto me, but that doesn’t help right now. I’m not a fighter. I wouldn’t punch him even if he weren’t my brother, but I might still throw him a curveball during the show tonight just to keep him on his toes. Brotherly love.

I watch from my dressing room as each member of our crew is running in opposite directions prepping for the show. In less than five minutes they will all be stationed and focused solely on making sure we look and sound our best, providing the best music experience possible for our fans who paid loads of money to be here. All to make sure we have a job tomorrow. How could I screw them all over and leave them without a job if I quit?

Just a few more tours and then we can set up the studio and put out a test demo to see if the fans respond.

If they do, I’m done with this and I’ll make sure we give preference to everyone who’s supported Amaryllis throughout the years. Nigel will love having to relay that message to The Machine. I honestly can’t wait for the day I can tell Nigel to kick rocks. A smile tugs at my mouth as I think about the fit he’s going to throw.

I can’t wait…

I wonder what London is up to. She stayed in the bus with Carter. I offered to get her after our set, but she wouldn’t agree to that. She said I needed to be there for the autograph line. To hell with the autograph line. The guys can pull that one off without me. Nigel will throw a fit, but that’s nothing new.

She’s probably about ready to jump out of her skin. I remember the nerves from my first show. As bad as they are now, they were even worse back then. It would have been nice to have someone familiar with the stage and road life showing me how to navigate this messed up career path.

I hate that I can’t be there for her right now. She’d probably just push me back out the door and tell me she’s got everything under control, and that is exactly what I love about her. She’s vulnerable but strong, determined but hesitant. She’s a complete paradox and I love every bit of it because it’s what makes her exactly who she is.

It’s only forty-five minutes, then I can go check on her… and Carter. I’ve never really taken to a kid so fast, but there’s something about Carter that pulls at my heart.

Nash signals me from the stage.

I take a deep breath.

Here we go.