Page 5 of Fire

I attended a few of Zander’s concerts during Manic’s last tour, but that was nearly two years ago. Playing in a studio—when I actually get the chance to—just isn’t the same. I’m the type of musician who feeds off the audience. Hungers for it.

Plus, there is that other reason…

“Things are different from last time,” Zander says, his hand resting on the little person in his arms.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, gesturing toward his happy little family and the damn mansion we’re standing in. “Clearly.”

“I’m just worried that the tour life isn’t the best environment for an infant.”

So a one-year-old is still considered a baby. Fuckingknew it.

“Plenty of people take their kids on tour,” I tell him casually. I run a hand through my sandy blond hair because, honestly, I have no clue. I heard my dad mention a few of his clients hitting the road with their families, so that adds up to a lot, right?

“Name two.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Shit. “Tim McGraw and P!nk,” I blurt out.

He eyes me suspiciously. “You just made that up.”

“They seem like the kind of people who would take their kids on tour.” I shrug as Elena snorts. Zander shakes his head in disbelief.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go. I just worry that something might happen. The guys have tamed quite a bit since the whole Mitch debacle.”The Mitch debaclehe’s referring to is when their former lead guitarist knocked up a seventeen-year-old minor and was later caught trying to pay her off. Sounds like a stellar guy, right? “But everyone on that tour is still”—he pauses and dramatically covers Marisa’s ears—“a bunch of horny assholes.”

My lips quirk in amusement. Like that’s the worst thing she could possibly hear in this house. I sure hope some of that rock star money went to soundproofing Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom. “Who isn’t?”

“Hen.”

“Don’t call me that.” I point a finger at him. “Only my sisters get to call me that.”

“You know that’s not true.” He smirks. “And this is an actual concern of mine. I can’t be carrying my daughter around backstage and suddenly walk in on an orgy.”

“Maybe knock?” I suggest only half kidding, but then ask, “Wait, what orgies? ’Cause I seem to have missed out on those when I visited you on tour.”

“It’s a hypothetical question.” He rolls his eyes. “And I’m sure Darius has had his share.”

“But not Asher. That guy is a monk.”

He snorts. “I don’t know if he’s a monk, but Ash is super careful about what he does in public. He has to be. If he’s getting laid, you’ll never see it. He’s discreet.”

“Okay, so no actual orgies to worry about,” I say, and before he can throw out another excuse, I add, “But just in case, maybe we make a family-only space backstage? No horny crew members. No girls. Just you guys. And maybe a nanny to help out?”

“No nanny,” Elena says firmly.

“It’s not a terrible idea. It’s going to be a lot.”

She sighs. “We can talk about it.”

“Okay, here’s our next issue. What if she gets sick?” Zander asks the question as if he’s quizzing me now. What do I look like? A tour manager?

“Then you take her to the doctor?”

“So I’m just supposed to waltz into where, Hendrix? The local ER? The urgent care down the street? That’s what normal dads do. Not a dad who has to use a fake name in hotels to dodge the paparazzi.”

Shit. He’s right. I struggle to find a quick answer. “Oh!” I snap my fingers in the air. “What about the rock docs?”

Rock docs is a term used by tour managers to refer to doctors who have been vetted and approved to be on call in specific cities. If someone on the tour gets sick or needs IV fluids after a particularly rough night of partying, they are sent to a rock doc for treatment, knowing it will be handled discreetly and professionally.

“It’s not a bad solution.” Elena nods in approval. I mentally high-five myself for coming up with it. “But I am concerned about availability. What if she gets sick in the middle of the night, and we can’t find anyone?”