Code red, p.15
Code Red, page 15
He crawled up to kiss me softly, victorious and grinning, then proceeded to lie on top of me. “You have more self-control than I gave you credit for,” he said casually.
I rolled us over, making him laugh, and he clung to me. I wrapped him up in a tight embrace, my leg over his hip, and he hummed happily. I was going to just lie like that for a little while, enjoy the moment, the sweetness and the closeness. I was eventually going to peel myself away and let him sleep, then go back to my room.
I just closed my eyes for a second.
The next thing I knew, my alarm went off. Maddox was in the bed next to me, sound asleep. His black hair was strewn across his forehead, his lips slightly parted. He grumbled at the noise of my alarm but didn’t fully wake. “Turn it off,” he groused, his voice thick with sleep.
I shot out of bed and found my phone, surprised to see I was still wearing undone jeans and socks. I found my shirt, pulled on my shoes, and glanced at Maddox. He was on his belly, his arms up under his pillow. Shirtless, wearing his sweatpants, sleep-rumpled, and absolutely beautiful.
Fuck it.
I leaned on the mattress and kissed his head. “It’s morning,” I said. “I gotta go.”
He smiled, burying his face into a pillow. And I prayed no one saw me leave.
Chapter Ten
Vegas, San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver, Denver, Dallas.
They passed in a blur.
It was fitness training, dance rehearsals, meetings. Flights, traffic jams, sold-out concerts, a few interviews, a few TV appearances. Logistics, security, and keeping tight schedules. Late nights, stolen kisses, lingering touches, holding hands, snuggling in bed.
And since I’d slept that one night in his bed, Maddox couldn’t see any problem in doing it every night. I sure as hell couldn’t say no to him, even though I knew better. We were tempting fate every time, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.
I did want to sleep in his bed every night. I wanted to hold him all night long. I wanted to wake up next to him. There was one time in Denver when the boys had something planned and it was late by the time we got back to the hotel. The boys wanted to have a few drinks afterward, and I had absolutely no problem leaving Maddox in Wes’s room.
In my own room, I showered and tried to watch some TV to dull my mind, but the bed was too big and empty without him. I missed his head on my chest as we watched the late, late movies. I missed his body against me. I missed his touch, his kiss, his taste. I missed the smell of his peach-and-orange body wash. I missed his smile, his laugh, the way he clung to me when he slept. I missed the sounds he made when he came.
One night. One freaking night apart and I missed him.
When Maddox surfaced the next morning, he was showered and dressed in his usual black from his cap to his boots, but he looked wrecked. I handed him his iced coffee. “Didn’t sleep, huh?”
His tired eyes met mine. “And I wonder why. I waited for you.”
What? “You were with the guys, set in for the long haul when I left.” I would have been mad at his assumption, but he looked miserable. “You should have texted me.”
He looked up at me from under his cap, tired and sad. “I wasn’t sure if I could . . . or should. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I missed you,” I admitted.
His smile just about slayed me. “You did, huh?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
He sipped his drink through the straw just as Jeremy came over. “Hey, lovebirds. You ready?”
Maddox choked on his drink, and I felt the blood drain from my face. What the hell had he told him last night?
Before I could speak, Ryan called me over to give him a hand, and thirty seconds later we were on our way to the vans. If Jeremy was looking at me funny, I pretended not to notice. I half expected him to declare he was coming with us to the airport, but he didn’t. I was relieved it was just Maddox and me. As soon as the door slid closed, I turned to him. “What the hell did you tell Jeremy?”
“Nothing! He was joking. Except now, by the way we both reacted, he probably knows something.” He sighed and his eyes found mine. “I hate lying to him.”
“I know you do.”
“I want to tell him.”
“Maddox,” I began. We’d been through this.
“I can’t keep lying to him. I just can’t. If he didn’t suspect something before, I’m pretty sure he does now. And the other guys. They’re not blind, Roscoe. And Vancouver was a close call.”
“It was.”
Blake and Wes had knocked on his door at late o’clock and we’d been lying in bed, all cuddled up. The TV was on and thankfully we were still mostly dressed. I planted myself at the far side of the table with my phone, a notepad, and pen, and Maddox picked up his guitar on his way to answer the door.
They were a bit surprised to see me there at that hour, but we passed it off as a late meeting regarding the trip to South America that was coming up, finalizing any last details. They didn’t seem to care too much, more interested in Maddox’s guitar. They also didn’t seem to notice that my shirt was untucked or that I had to put my shoes on when I left.
If it had been Jeremy, or worse, Ryan or Amber, we’d have been found out for sure.
I sighed and Maddox lifted my arm so he could lean against my chest. “Jeremy won’t care,” he murmured, snuggling in the best he could in the backseat. “But he’ll be really pissed if I hide it from him and keep lying to him. Then he’ll be pissed. And who knows . . . he might cover for us if we need him to.”
I chuckled and kissed his cap. There was no point in trying to argue. He was right; he shouldn’t lie to his best friend or to the rest of the band. Maybe not the others just yet, but starting with Jeremy would be okay. It would have to be, because Maddox wasn’t asking.
He slept for the short ride to the airport. He boarded the plane with the guys, and Amber, Ryan, and I spent the almost three-hour flight to Miami in a meeting with Ambrose. It was actually convenient. There were few interruptions, and a private plane was spacious enough that we could sit and talk comfortably.
Ambrose had a lot on his plate, and I didn’t envy him at all. While I just had to focus on Maddox, he had to worry about every member of the crew, staff, equipment, budgets, publicity, and about a hundred other things.
“Give me a rundown on the boys,” Ambrose said.
“Blake’s knee is holding up so far,” Amber said. “But that’s likely to change with every concert we do.”
Ambrose was concerned. “Julio’s been taping it?”
Ryan nodded. “Yep.”
“And Luke and Blake want to see Recoleta in Buenos Aires,” Amber added.
Ryan agreed. “Yep, and Jeremy mentioned a particular artist in Sao Paulo. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll get the details and let you know.”
“Okay,” Ambrose said. “And I’ll see what I can do.” Then he looked at me. “What about Maddox?”
“Ah, yeah, he’s doing fine,” I replied, which wasn’t an overly helpful answer. I felt scrutinized and guilty for being secretive, for knowing more about Maddox than I should. Not that I could tell them any of the things I’d learned about him in the two weeks.
“I thought he was looking happier this week,” Amber said. “But then today he looked like shit.”
“Yeah, he said he didn’t sleep very well,” I replied. “But he said he feels fine. I got him to laugh a few times this morning, so I’m sure he’ll be fine after some decent sleep.”
I wasn’t telling the whole truth, but it wasn’t like I could tell them he didn’t sleep very well because I wasn’t in bed with him.
Ambrose frowned at me. “Keep me updated. If he needs something to help him sleep, I can have Doctor Hardwick write him up a prescription for something.”
Hardwick was the team doctor on tour with us.
“He wouldn’t take it even if you did,” I said. We all knew Maddox’s stance on any kinds of drugs, but maybe Ambrose had some duty of care to suggest it, I wasn’t sure. “He’ll be fine. Concert’s in two days. I’ll make sure he gets some sleep.”
Christ, Roscoe. Just say that shit out loud.
We talked about the media, about the photos all over the internet. Ambrose talked about my new popularity, though it had died down after the herding-cats comments, it spiked new interest every time some papzz or fan posted a picture of Maddox and me. Getting out of the car, walking into the hotel probably a little closer than we should, talking, smiling, me waiting for Maddox, Maddox waiting for me . . .
Seeing all those photos, one after the other, in front of Ambrose, Amber, and Ryan was a little uncomfortable. Not gonna lie.
Ambrose would never say directly that he approved of the Maddox and Roscoe shipping, but he liked the publicity. It kept the band trending, he said. It keeps the music streaming, he said. It was good for sales, he said.
And I knew then, firsthand and very personally, why Maddox hated being fodder for sales. Not for his music, not because he was a talented song writer and performer, but because of his personal life.
It wasn’t a nice feeling.
We arrived in Miami at the same time as a heatwave. Which was less than ideal, to say the least. The concert was in two days and the heatwave was expected to last the week. Hot and humid, yes. But at least no hurricanes were predicted.
When we disembarked the plane and piled into our waiting vans at the private terminal, Maddox climbed into the backseat again, and I was quick to take the seat next to him.
He smiled but still looked tired. “Manage to sleep on the plane?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. You?”
“Nope. It was a three-hour work meeting for me.”
He scrunched his nose up. “At least I only had to listen to Wes and Luke whine about not getting laid often enough for two out of the three hours.”
I snorted. “Only two?”
“Yeah, I told them to suck each other off in the bathroom and that shut them up.”
I chuckled. “No takers?”
“Nope. So I told them to do it in their seats so I could watch.”
“Take it that was a no too.”
“Wes threw his pillow at me and told me to fuck off.”
“Just another day, huh?”
“Hm.”
“Did you, uh, did you get a chance to speak to Jeremy?”
Maddox shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t . . . not without the others hearing.”
I should have been relieved. I expected to be. But for some strange reason I wasn’t. Maybe some part of me wanted someone else to know? Even though it would possibly—likely—change how we worked together. Would they remove me from him? Separate us?
Probably.
He leaned forward and took his jacket off. “God, it’s hot and humid.”
I took his jacket from him and threw it over the seat in front of us. “Excuse me, driver,” I called out. “Can we please have some A/C?”
Maddox sighed and took my hand. “You don’t have to look after me all the time.”
Technically, I did, but that wasn’t the only reason. “I want to.”
He scoffed. “Because it’s your job.”
“Because I want you to be happy.”
He glanced over at me and squeezed my hand. “Sorry. I don’t mean to imply that your job is . . . that you’ve been with me, you know, because of your job.” Then he shot me another look, his hand frozen in mine. “Unless it is the reason you’ve been with me—”
“You know it’s not. Maddox, you know it’s not.” I stared into his eyes and tightened my hold on his hand. “That’s not what this is. You know that, right?”
He gave the smallest of nods, but I could see the relief on his face, in how his whole body relaxed. “And you know it’s the same for me, right?” he murmured. “This isn’t a work-only thing . . .” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t get his words right. “It’s complicated. But you’re the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And I know that sounds weird and stupid because, look at me.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m Maddox Kershaw, face of the biggest band in the world right now.” He was quiet for a while and I let him gather his thoughts. In the end, he simply shrugged. “I feel guilty for complaining because compared to other people, I have no right. So I don’t like to say anything.”
“You can tell me,” I whispered. “You’ve had a dark cloud hanging over you for a while now, Maddox. If you want to talk about it, talk to me.”
“A dark cloud?” He made a face. “Is that what you call it?”
“What would you call it?”
“Poor little rich boy syndrome?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“That’s how the outside world would see it.”
“Financial status and popularity have no bearing on mental health. The richest person on the planet can have depression.”
“Depression?”
“I’m not saying that about you. It was just an example. And sometimes fame and fortune bring with it a whole other level of problems. You’ve talked before about being lonely and isolated.”
He was quiet again and eventually he put his head against my shoulder and sighed. “You know when we first signed with Platinum and we had that first taste of success, we made a pact. Don’t get me wrong, Arlo Kim and the Platinum contract had us sewn up pretty tight with a lot of shit—and they still do. But we had a list. Just us, no legally binding shit, just a promise to each other. If we made it, we wouldn’t drink alone and no drugs. How many bands before us were ruined because they turned to drugs and shit when the loneliness became too much?”
I kissed the top of his head and let him speak uninterrupted.
“But I get it now,” he admitted quietly. “I understand why they look for some kind of escape.”
“Oh, Maddox.”
“If we hadn’t made that pact, if we hadn’t sworn to each other that day all those years ago, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
I realized something.
“That night you texted me and said you couldn’t sleep,” I said, “the first night I came to your room, you were . . . you were tempted.”
“I was scared, if I’m being honest. I was . . . I almost left the hotel. I could have found some shit-hole bar and got wasted or taken a hit of something to . . . to just forget. To pretend I was someone else.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thank you for texting me. It was brave.”
“If you hadda said no, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he mumbled.
“I wouldn’t have said no.”
“Having you really helps. Just so you know.”
Steve called out from the front. “Five minutes, ETA.”
I could have groaned at the interruption. “Having you helps me too, Maddox,” I whispered. “I know it’s complicated and new, and we kinda feel up in the air right now with not knowing where we’ll land. But I see the real you. I want you to know that.”
He sat up and shifted in his seat, as though my admission of seeing the real him made him uncomfortable.
“I like what I see,” I added.
“And what’s that?”
“A complex man. A man whom the whole world knows but no one really knows at all.”
His dark eyes shot to mine, and I knew I was right.
I decided to lighten the mood a bit. “He’s also incredibly talented and funny. I don’t think he has any idea as to how good-looking he is.” I leaned in and whispered, “And he does things in bed that just about kill me, every time.”
The corner of his lip curled upward, just a touch. “Is that right?”
“Hmm. So right.”
He chuckled. “About that . . .” He glanced to the front of the van and lowered his voice even more. “We’ve done a lot of stuff, which I’ve enjoyed very much.”
“I know you have. I was there.”
He snorted, his cheeks flushing pink. “But I was wondering if there was any particular reason why we haven’t . . . done more.”
Oh, hell.
This conversation was either going to kill me with embarrassment or make me hard, so I figured it was best to just put it all out there. “Are you referring to penetrative sex, Maddox.”
He chuckled. “Why yes I am, Roscoe.”
“Is that something you might be interested in exploring, Mr. Kershaw?”
“Why yes, Mr. Hall, I do believe it is.”
I grinned at him and shifted in my seat. “We probably shouldn’t be talking about this. If I get out of the van with a boner, the press will have a field day.”
He barked out a laugh, but then his dark gaze met mine and his hand slid dangerously up my inner thigh, his fingers brushing me. “We can’t have that. Because no one gets to see this but me.”
I leaned closer, our noses almost touching, staring into his eyes. “Talk like that and I will have a fucking hard-on.”
He smirked, his eyes going from my eyes to my mouth back to my eyes. “Roscoe?”
“What?”
“Add condoms and lube to the list of things you need to get today.”
The van began to slow. “Approaching the hotel,” Steve called out. “And there’s a crowd.”
Fuck.
I sat back in my seat, trying to not concentrate on my dick. “Think of horrible things, gross and disgusting things.” That did no good on killing my semi, so I readjusted my dick before grabbing our backpacks to hold in front of me.
Maddox was still laughing as the door slid open. He grinned as he waved to the screaming fans, and I tried to act inconspicuously to get inside unnoticed. When we filed into the elevator, I held the bags so they covered my crotch, and Maddox was still wearing that shit-eating grin.
“What’s so funny?” Wes asked him.
“Nothing,” I replied on Maddox’s behalf. I was confident I wasn’t sporting a raging hard-on anymore and that my backpack was enough, so I shoved Maddox’s backpack into his chest. “Carry your own bag.”
Maddox just laughed, and we scored a few interesting glances from the others. Steve, standing near the door, looked right at me and smiled.
