Indigo Rain Page 9

  Travis took off his jacket and tucked it around me. It was the one he wore most, and it smelled of leather and man with just a hint of cologne. Yes, Travis was a womaniser, but only when the women in question were willing. Around me, he behaved himself, and for that I was grateful.

  My mouth opened in a yawn as a lack of sleep caught up with me, and I covered it up with my hand.

  “Sorry.”

  “Get some rest, blue-eyes. You’ve earned it.”

  I managed a smile. “Wake me when we get to LA.”

  CHAPTER 10 - ALANA

  “ALANA? WE’VE LANDED.”

  “In LA?”

  “I sure hope so. You slept through the refuelling in New York.”

  I willed my gummy eyelids open and groaned when I caught sight of Travis. Mornings weren’t my friend, and while I felt as if I’d been dragged through a rubbish dump backwards and probably looked worse, Travis had changed into a suit. I hadn’t even realised he owned a suit. Black, single-breasted, with a thin tie and tailored trousers. He’d combed his hair and tied it back and also trimmed his beard.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’ve flown out of Manchester and into a fairy tale. Beauty and the Beast. Guess which one I am?”

  “Can I plead the fifth?”

  “My mouth tastes like a compost heap.”

  “Here.” He held out a packet of gum and a bottle of water. “I came prepared.” A wink. “I’ve had practice at this.”

  Memories slowly surfaced, snippets of conversation and confessions and tears. Shit.

  “Uh, what I said earlier… Can you just forget all that?”

  “No, blue-eyes, I can’t.” Now I got solemn Travis. “But I wish I could help you to forget.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I went for perky. “Let’s go find this rental car.”

  “At least one of us still has a licence.”

  “DUI, huh?”

  “Yeah, and it was bullshit. They caught me the morning after, and I only got into my car so I could move it off the drive to let someone else out. Technically I shouldn’t have done it, but I was on the road for, like, five seconds, and I wasn’t even going anywhere.”

  “But you broke your arm?”

  “I told the cops to take a hike, and my arm got fractured when they slammed me on the kerb.”

  “But…but that’s illegal, surely?”

  “They said I resisted arrest. And then the judge said he wanted to make an example of me.”

  “Not a fan?”

  “Guess not. I probably screwed his wife or something.”

  “Why do you do it? All the women, I mean.”

  I struggled to reconcile the Travis I’d talked to last night, the one who mourned over Marli and spoke so fondly of Caitlin, with the man-slut I’d been hanging out with for the past week. Why the difference?

  “Why?” He chewed his lip as he stuffed his jacket into his duffel bag. “Because at the moment, it’s my only option. I like women’s company, I won’t lie about that, but my lifestyle isn’t compatible with a stable relationship. What girl wants to live on a tour bus? Wants to see groupies throwing themselves at her man every night? There has to be trust, and trust isn’t easy to come by in this business.”

  “I suppose I can understand that.”

  He held out his hand, the one with the cast this time, and I took it without thinking as he picked up both of our bags. Then I realised I shouldn’t be getting so familiar with Travis Thorne, but I didn’t want to offend him by snatching my hand away. That and it didn’t feel as scary as I thought it might.

  “What will you do in two years, when your contract’s up?”

  “In two years, I’ll be free. I’m gonna buy a shack on a beach somewhere and spend my days messing around with my guitar and eating pineapple.”

  “Pineapple?”

  “What’s wrong with pineapple? It’s my favourite food.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just not very rock-star.”

  “We don’t always bite the heads off small mammals, you know. Only on stage.” Travis waved to our pilot. “Thanks, buddy.”

  I giggled as we hurried down the steps and into a car waiting to take us to the terminal. “What about the others? Indigo Rain will split?”

  “For a few months at least. We all need a break. After that? Who knows? We’ve gone full circle now—when we first got signed, we were best buds, last year we hated each other, but when Dex punched Rush out the day before Thanksgiving, we realised we’d been taking our frustrations out on each other and agreed things had to change.”

  “And now you’re okay again?”

  “We got into this shit together, and we’ll get out of it together.”

  The private terminal at LAX was nicer than any other airport I’d ever been to, quiet too, and small enough that getting to the exit didn’t burn more calories than a gym session. We were almost there. So near. I could practically taste the LA smog when it happened. When what happened, you ask? The worst thing imaginable.

  Somebody recognised me. Not Travis. Me.

  “Alana?”

  I’d been so busy checking my phone for the rental car details that I hadn’t noticed the blonde woman approaching, and now I found myself three feet away from Zander’s boss. Not his London boss, but the owner of the whole freaking company. Emmy Black. I’d met her once or twice when I’d gone to Blackwood social events as Zander’s plus-one, and quite frankly, she’d scared me.

  And now she scared me even more because I was in a city I wasn’t meant to be in with a man I wasn’t meant to be with, and if Zander found out, he’d go mental.

  “Uh, yes?”

  Now her gaze homed in on Travis. “Travis Thorne? Aren’t you supposed to be playing Glastonbury tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve just flown in for a funeral,” I told her. “We’ll be leaving again in a couple of hours.”

  She looked down at our joined hands. “Should I be offering my congratulations?”

  “No!” I hastily stuffed the offending hand into my pocket. “I mean, I’m just here to help out with organising stuff.”

  “Like a job?”

  “Yes. A job. Exactly like a job.”

  “Does Zander know about this job?”

  “I may have glossed over some of the details.”

  “Fuck me. Your brother isn’t gonna be happy.”

  “It’s fine, honestly. I’m just going to drive Travis to the service, I’ll book us a flight home while he’s inside, and we’ll be back in the UK before anyone’s even noticed we’re missing.”

  “You plan to go commercial?”

  “Unless we can get another empty-leg.”

  “Honey, he’ll get eaten alive in the airport.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Today, you’ve got Scott and Connor Lowes flying in. Armand Taylor’s arriving, President Harrison’s just left, and the entire cast of some reality show is causing chaos in Terminal Four. There’s paparazzi everywhere.”

  “Oh.” Dammit.

  Travis stepped forward. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but this is none of your business.”

  “Since my company’s tasked with assessing security for your tour and ensuring the safety of your band, this literally is my business.” She checked her watch. Tapped long purple fingernails on her phone screen. “Follow me.” Then, under her breath, “What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

  Travis looked as though he wanted to argue, but if I’d learned one thing from Zander and the work-related tales he told me over dinner, it was that you didn’t mess with Emmy Black.

  “We need to do as she says.”

  Whatever that might be.

  She strode ahead, muttering instructions into her phone. I hurried to keep up because even in stilettos, she glided like a freaking combat-ready swan. As we emerged into the sunshine, a black SUV skidded to a halt in front of us, and a man leaped
out of the driver’s seat.

  Emmy gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, Kelvin. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Just have a coffee or something.” She turned to Travis and me. “Get in. What time is the funeral?”

  “One o’clock.”

  “And the address?”

  “Uh, I booked a rental car.”

  “Cancel it. I’m driving.”

  “Is she sane?” Travis whispered.

  “I don’t think so. But do you want to argue with her?”

  He sucked in a breath. “Not really.”

  I slid into the back seat, all the way over to the far side, and Travis climbed in next to me. Emmy peeled out of the parking area, speaking hands-free into the phone as she drove.

  “Brett? I need you to change the flight plan. We’ll be taking off at four now, and we need to make a pit stop as near to Glastonbury as possible to drop a couple of people off before we carry on into London.”

  “Glastonbury?”

  “Somerset. West of England.”

  “Got it.”

  “You’re flying us back?” I asked.

  “Your brother would kill me if I left you to fend for yourselves. Besides, I’m going in that direction anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thanks,” Travis added.

  “Thank me after Cinderella here gets back to play his set.”

  Talk about awkward. Travis went to the funeral alone, creeping in last so he could stand at the back of the chapel, and that left me in the car with Emmy.

  “Skittle?” she asked, holding out a packet.

  “No, thanks.”

  The butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t have appreciated that.

  “So, Travis Thorne, eh? I’d never have seen that one coming.”

  “It’s not what you think. I’m actually working for Rush Moder, doing his social media stuff for my uni work placement.”

  “And yet you’re here with Travis.”

  “Only to act as chauffeur, although you seem to have taken that over.”

  “He could’ve booked a cab.”

  “It’s not a good time for him at the moment. His friend just died, and his boss from the record label is a grade A cockwomble.”

  “Gary Dorfman?”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “No, but my husband has. Although he described him as a skid mark on the ass of humanity rather than a cockwomble.”

  A giggle escaped. “He’s horrible. We only snuck here because he said Travis couldn’t come. What kind of man stops someone from going to a funeral?”

  “You already answered that question.”

  “I know you probably think I’m mad for helping him, but he’s been so depressed for the last few days, and he needs to say goodbye to her.”

  “They were close?”

  “They used to date.” The knot in my stomach grew bigger. “Are you gonna tell Zander?”

  “No, but I think you should.”

  “How? He’ll forbid me from going near the whole band.”

  “You honestly think he won’t find out anyway? Bryson and Max go to half of Indigo Rain’s concerts, and they’re both good friends with your brother.”

  “They almost saw me the other day.”

  “Well, there you go. It’d be better coming from you. How long is this work placement supposed to last?”

  “It’s kind of ongoing. Originally, I thought a few weeks, long enough for me to convince the university I did something worthwhile, but it’s fun.”

  “And you like Travis?”

  “No! I mean, yes, but not in that way. We’re just friends.” Having rock-star friends felt surreal, but that was what they were, weren’t they? “All the guys are nice.”

  “I’m not sure Travis has bought into the ‘just friends’ part.”

  “Sorry, but you’re wrong there. I’ve… I’ve had some problems in my past, and he knows about them, which means he looks out for me.”

  Emmy rolled her eyes. “O-kaaay.”

  “Really!”

  “Sure.”

  Thankfully, my phone rang and saved me from an argument I couldn’t win. Not against Emmy. But what did Rush want?

  “Babe, we’ve got a problem.”

  Out of the frying pan and into the pits of hell…

  “What problem?”

  “So the first issue was when we told Gary that Travis was sick and couldn’t do the interview. He insisted on calling a doctor. Frank found this old dude—”

  “Frank knows now?”

  “We had to tell him. Anyhow, he found this old dude who’s never heard of Indigo Rain, so we pretended Dex was Travis and put a hot towel on his head so it felt like he was burning up.”

  “And…?”

  “We thought Gary cancelled the interview, but it turned out he only rescheduled it. Now it’s in an hour.”

  “At Glastonbury? But it’s almost nine in the evening.”

  “It’s with some female blogger. He drove her down here, and he’ll invite her to his hotel afterwards as well. Five bucks says he’s using our interview to try and buy himself party favours.”

  “Uh, yuck.” Even if we left that very second on Emmy’s jet, we couldn’t get back in time. “Dammit. Why does everything always have to go wrong?”

  “What’s gone wrong?” Emmy asked.

  I muffled the microphone against my chest. “Travis’s presence is required at an interview in an hour.”

  Fascinating. I could almost see the cogs turning in Emmy’s head. Zander always said she was scarily devious, and right now, I crossed everything in the hope that she’d come up with a miracle.

  “How well does the interviewer know Travis?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Put us on speaker.”

  I did so, and she repeated the question.

  “Who are you?” Rush asked.

  “Trust me; you don’t want to know.”

  “My brother’s boss,” I told him. “We ran into each other at the airport, and she’s helping us out here. Please, just answer the question.”

  “We’ve never met the woman before.”

  “Good,” Emmy said. “How do you feel about the Ghost?”

  “As in the music producer?”

  “The one and only.”

  Everyone had heard of the Ghost, also known as Ethan White. Not only did each track he collaborated on shoot straight to the top of the charts, but he’d also been front and centre of every news bulletin in the last few months after he got accused of murder. Until then, nobody knew what he looked like because he always performed in a mask. He’d been cleared now, and he was rumoured to be planning a collaboration with Red Bennett, a former boyband star who’d recently reappeared on the scene.

  “He’s a legend, man,” Rush said. “If the label let us have any say in it, he’d be top of our list of people to work with.”

  “So what about doing your interview in Ghost masks to show solidarity with one of your fellow artists? I know it’s not your normal style, but then we could get a stand-in for Travis.”

  “I’d do it.” Murmurs of agreement came from Dex and JD in the background. “But where the hell do we get a stand-in with zero notice?”

  “I have someone in mind. Just leave it with me, and when he arrives, sit him at the back and don’t let him speak much because his voice is smoother than Thorne’s. Got it?”

  “Uh, yeah. Alana?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is she for real?”

  “Just roll with it, okay?”

  I hung up and leaned through the gap in the seats. “Do you really have someone in mind?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who?”

  “Red Bennett. He’s at Glastonbury with Ethan, he’s the same height and build as Travis, and they’ve got similar hair. Red’ll just have to wear a scarf or something to hide his lack of a beard. Put a cast on his arm, and we’ll be golden.”

  “You know Red Bennett?”

  “Honey, I
know everyone.”

  Last to arrive, first out. Travis hurried to the car the moment the service ended, head down. Quiet.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, but he wasn’t okay. I reached over and took his hand, ignoring Emmy’s raised eyebrow in the rear-view mirror. Let her judge. She didn’t walk in my shoes.

  Should I tell Travis about the problems in England? Ultimately, I decided against it because what good would it achieve? Whatever happened with the interview was out of our hands, and he didn’t need the extra stress.

  Emmy drove like a Formula One driver on amphetamines, but by some miracle, we made it back to LAX without crashing. When we stopped, she picked up our bags from the boot and ushered us on board a bigger jet than the one we’d flown out on.

  “This should get us back to England at around one p.m. My assistant’s arranged for a car to meet you at the airport, and it’s another hour to Glastonbury.”

  “Thank you for doing all this. I don’t know how I can repay you, but if there’s ever anything…”

  “I’ll come up with a way, don’t worry. In the meantime, think about telling Zander what’s going on, yeah? The longer you leave it, the more hurt he’ll feel.”

  I did think about it. I thought about it while Emmy took her place beside the pilot in the cockpit and when I stowed our luggage next to the seats in the spacious cabin. I thought about it while I sat cross-legged beside Travis on the bed in the tiny bedroom to the rear. I thought about it as I wiped a tear from his cheek. I didn’t think about it when I slithered down the headboard and fell asleep next to him, but I sure as hell thought about it when I woke up in his arms four hours later.

  Fuck.

  By rights, I should have freaked out, but this was Travis. He wouldn’t hurt me. And I should have moved, moved all the way back to my seat in the main cabin, but something deep inside me overruled my brain, and I snuggled closer against his chest.

  It was official. I’d lost my freaking mind.

  Bad boys were bad news, remember?

  CHAPTER 11 - ALANA

  “WHAT DO YOU mean, it went ‘mostly okay’?” I asked Rush.

  Emmy’s driver had dropped us off at the performer’s entrance, and Rush came out to meet us with the passes we needed to get inside. He’d sent me that cryptic message after we landed, and although I’d replied asking what the freaking heck “mostly” meant, he’d been annoyingly silent on the issue. Now we were in the lounge on the tour bus, and I needed answers.