Wicked (Somerset University #2) - Ruby Vincent Page 0,56

the band. It’s the start of more festivals, concerts, and tours.”

“It is. Beyond Berlin will be huge. I knew that the moment I heard you sing.”

A rare smile transformed her face. “Thanks, Jaxson.” She slid her hand down my thigh and squeezed my knee. I stood, knocking her off.

“I’ve got a lot to do if we’re leaving in the morning.” I held the door open. “Brant was in the cafeteria last I saw him. Hit him with your questions.”

“See you tomorrow.”

My gaze trailed her around the corner.

She definitely hit on me that time.

THE NEXT MORNING, I was first on the bus, checking out the accommodations. Dad hooked us up Interstellar-style. The kitchen and front lounge were spotless and fitted with all the finishes. The bunks had privacy curtains, a television, personal outlets, lighting, air-conditioning, and—

I pressed on the mattress. Memory foam. Unless one of the guys snores through my earplugs, I’ll sleep decent on this.

I tossed my bag on the top bunk and then pushed into Serena’s temporary bedroom. Her space had everything mine did except it wasn’t all on top of her. The television hung across from the full-sized bed—done up with brown satin sheets and covered in pillows. A door on the other end hinted at a private bathroom.

A sense of rightness filled me, grounding me to the spot as my eyes closed. I breathed deep, inhaling nothing but disinfectant, but in my mind, it was sweat, spilled beer, open chip bags, and history in the making. I was a little kid again. Running through Dad’s legs on a bus filled with legends.

There is no better life than this.

“Don’t even think about it, Jaxson.” Serena bumped me, knocking me out of my reverie. Shrieking, she flung herself on the bed. “This is all mine. Go back to your bunk.”

A whistle sounded behind me. “This is sweet. Does this mean we’ve made it?” Ty came in and flopped next to Serena. “You won’t make me sleep in the bunk, will you?”

Grinning, she flipped onto her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. “I guess there’s room for two. If you ask nicely.”

Ty pushed her spaghetti strap down.

Time to go.

“Make sure you have everything, guys,” I said. “We leave in twenty minutes.”

They were tongue-deep before the door closed.

Chandler hefted his stuff up the stairs. “Where’s Serena and Ty?”

“Breaking in the bed.”

“Could’ve helped me with the equipment first,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I’ll help.”

“Thanks, Jaxson. Brant is babysitting it.”

Beyond Berlin’s new manager was a stout man with more hair on his chin than on his head. His style didn’t cross into business, but his jeans didn’t have rips and his button-up shirts were pressed. Above all, Brant’s most impressive feature was his vast knowledge of the music industry.

Together we loaded the stuff on the bus. I put away the drumsticks, came out for one last check, and spotted Dad striding over.

“What’s this?” I threw at him. “Tearful goodbye?”

“You get that mouth from me. That doesn’t mean you should always be running it.” Dad gripped my neck, crushing me to his chest in his version of a hug. “Keep your head out there, kid. You’re still underage. Plus, you’ve got a kid of your own.” He jerked his chin at the bus. “Our job is to give them this life. Not be sucked into it.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. This job’s been mine since I was in diapers. This is where I’m supposed to be, Dad. I won’t mess it up.”

He flashed a grin. “Well, I’ll say this. You’re definitely my son.”

“Jaxson,” Brant called from the door of the bus. “We’re kicking off in five minutes. Ready to go?”

“I’m coming.”

I put two fingers to my temple, backing toward the ride. “See you in a week, Papa. Take care of my legacy.”

He returned the salute.

I bounded up the steps, throwing myself on the couch. The leather welcomed me like we hadn’t just met.

Brant came up behind the driver, shaking his shoulder. “Ready when you are, my man.”

Chandler and Rylan made themselves comfortable in their bunks. Rylan’s mushy conversation with his girlfriend had no trouble seeping through the privacy curtain. I left them to it and fell into conversation with Brant, talking about his old days as a roadie.

The town faded through the windows, becoming a hazy mass of gray buildings and trees, and then disappearing as we got onto the highway. Eventually, the guys dropped out of their bunks and suggested a game of poker. We were an hour deep when