Page 16 of Before Eve

The thought has me smiling. Despite my crap life, I never thought I’d actually be thinking in such anormalway.

CHAPTER 9

Outdoor amphitheaters are the best.Even though the crowd’s huge, there’s still room to just exist and breathe and enjoy the energy vibrating the air. I really am happy that I interviewed for this new gig. It’s nice to love the music I’m a roadie for.

But as all shows do, the Memphis one comes to an end, and we roadies do our breakdown job. It’s one in the morning by the time we finish taking down the stage and loading semis en route to the next city. One last stop at the bathroom and everyone is gone when Anne and I come out.

“Shit!” She kicks the wall. “We forgot to tell the last van to hang.”

It does stink, but I don’t tend to get near as irritated with these things as she does.

“Stupid guys,” she mumbles. “You’d think they’d look around and make sure everyone had a ride.” She heaves the heaviest sigh in history as she trudges off. “Come on. Let’s just walk. The hotel’s only a mile or so.”

I take a cautious look around. “A mile in the dark and walking? I don’t think so, Anne.”

She keeps moving. “Oh, come on. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Let’s get an Uber.”

“I don’t want to wait. Let’s just go.” She pats her front jeans pocket where she keeps her knife. “Don’t worry. I have no problem slicing someone’s throat.”

The first chance I got, I bought pepper spray that I carry in my messenger bag. I get it out now as I fall in step beside Anne. Neither one of us speaks as we start off down the dark street. A quarter of a mile in headlights come straight toward us, passing, and then rolling to a stop. Anne and I move in sync, clicking the knife and readying the pepper spray.

“Perv better not mess with us,” she says.

The car backs up, and the driver’s window goes down as I simultaneously register it’s a sports car with West driving. A knowing grin dances across his lips. “Well, hello there, pretty ladies.”

With a snort, Anne holds up her knife. “Dude, I thought you were a serial killer.”

“In a sports car?”

I shrug. “Could happen.”

Laughter spills from him, and I find it oddly satisfying to have made him react that way. “I suppose. Climb on in. I’ll take you to the hotel.”

“Stupid asses left us.” Anne clicks her knife closed as we round the car to the passenger side. I open the door, about to get in the teeny-tiny back, and she shoves past me to squeeze in, leaving me no option but the tight bucket seat in the front. In the dimness of the interior, West watches me as I slide in and close the door.

“Hey, Blue Eyes.”

“Hey.”

Suddenly, everything is filled with him. His scent—it’sall over the car—this lingering cologne, soap, and something else that’s uniquely him.

“Seatbelt,” he says, waiting for me to click in before he drives off.

Anne leans up from the back. “Look at you, all taking care of my girl and everything.”

“I can’t help it,” he teases. “She brings out the tender side in me.”

“Awww,” Anne goes on, and I roll my eyes.

“You too, Anne. Seatbelt.”

After she puts hers on, West shifts into first, his hand gliding past my knee in the tight space. I move my legs out of reach, and he cuts me an amused look. He shifts into second then, and though he’s still with his perma-smile, I note he’s very careful to keep his distance. I didn’t mean to make him so cautious, and I hate that I did.

Anne says, “Is this a rental?”

“Yeah, I get one in pretty much every city so I can get out and about without depending on rideshare.”