Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Our phones chimed again with another text from him.
Lo: Not it.
Houston and I looked up from our phones to stare at Loren. I already knew he was serious. Grinning, he sent two more texts.
Lo: Houston’s got the pipes.
Lo: Can’t hurt to try.
Just as he started to send another, Houston slapped Loren’s phone out of his hand. It skipped and scattered across the floor, making Braxton jump and drawing her attention to us. I could see the question in her brown eyes, but it was gone in one blink, and then she turned back to the movie.
Loren ignored his phone lying on the floor across the room while we played another hand, which I won. Possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done was sit here and ignore Braxton’s presence. Every time she shifted on the couch, laughed under her breath, or let it catch from something happening in the movie, I was aware, yet I had to pretend otherwise.
Once the movie finally ended, Braxton stood and began washing her plate. Since her back was turned, I felt free to watch her.
She was fully clothed tonight even though she’d been completely naked and riding Loren’s pillow three hours ago.
When she was done, I felt like all the air had been kicked from my lungs when she bent to pick up Loren’s phone near her bare feet. The three of us went still as she straightened while staring at the lit screen.
Loren didn’t keep a lock on his phone so all she had to do was tap and swipe up to see his last open window. She didn’t even bother to conceal her curiosity from us either.
Helplessly, we watched as Braxton read Loren’s texts.
When she was done, without a word, she calmly placed his phone on the counter before leaving the room.
“Shit,” Loren swore.
Feeling our glares, he hung his head.
Pissed was an understatement when I shot to my feet, but I didn’t bother pummeling him. Braxton had already made him feel worse than I ever could. “Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
Loren’s head shot up. When he saw I was dead serious, he looked to Houston, who shrugged. This was my show and my shot to call, but we were both still caught off guard by Houston’s refusal to interfere. Control was not something he relinquished without a bloody fight.
Braxton was changing everything.
“This is bullshit,” Loren spat like I gave a damn.
“Wheelchair.”
It was all the reminder he needed before he stormed off the bus.
Sighing, I headed for the shower while Houston cleaned up. With Loren gone, at least there’d be hot water.
One city blurred into the next as we made our way east. Exhaustion from performing nonstop, with only two real breaks to recharge in between, had drained my excitement for new places. I didn’t feel the spark I’d left behind in New Orleans until we reached the Big Apple two months later.
Now all I could smell since we arrived this morning was cinnamon.
Visiting had always been a dream of mine, and not even the pall Dallas put on the tour could ruin it.
My bus had been repaired and met us in New Orleans, but Houston had given it back to the crew rather than exile me again. Even though I was relieved for the crew, I wondered if Houston’s motive was to punish me since it meant staying on the bus with them. We didn’t speak unless it was absolutely necessary, and the three of them avoided me like I carried a flesh-eating virus.
I know I said I wanted space but going so far as to avoid even a shoulder brush was a bit much. All three seemed to jump out of their skin whenever I got too close and would hurriedly leave the room.
They still argued almost every night, but something had changed. They didn’t lash out anymore, and I was no longer a bystander. Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup made sure to hash their beef out of earshot, though it was always close enough for me to watch them through the window.
Sometimes I had to remind myself that I’d asked for this. We were Pandora’s box, better left untouched than explored. I just didn’t count on it hurting this bad.
Against my will, I missed them.
I’d gone from feeling nothing to feeling sad, and now something else. I wasn’t sure at what point during the two months prior that anger had set in, but the chip on my shoulder was huge.
New York was as loud, smelly, and crowded as portrayed on television, but the magic was real too. Los Angeles had gotten me used to large cities, but there was an edge to New York that the City of Angels just didn’t have. No other place in the world could match the grit, speed, and glitz of the metropolis.
The best part was that we’d be here for a week before moving further north. After Boston, we’d storm through Canada, and then it was back to the west coast for our last two shows of the first leg—Seattle and Portland. I’m sure the guys were excited about returning home—at least until the European leg of our tour began.