Olivia Cunning - Double Time

“I thought you were dead. Or worse. Strung out on drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs,” she said flatly. He was big on stereotypes. “I did win a contest.”

“A music contest?” He actually sounded excited.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re going back to cello?”

“No, it wasn’t an orchestral contest. It was a rock guitarist contest.”

Silence. She could picture the look of displeasure on his face. She’d seen it enough times.

She pressed on. “I’ve been selected to be the rhythm guitarist for Exodus End while they tour the US and world this year. This is an amazing opportunity for me.”

More silence.

“So if I forget to call you, I’m probably doing drugs or sleeping around with tattooed freaks or showing off my ass on stage.”

More silence.

Something, Dad. Say something.

“I’ve got to go,” she said after a long moment of listening to silence.

“Be careful, Reagan.”

The phone clicked in her ear as he hung up. “I love you, Daddy.”

She sank into the booth at the dining table and stared down at her phone. She figured she’d never make the man proud. She might as well let that dream go. Her cell phone sounded, alerting her to the receipt of a text message. She viewed it without much thought.

You took what’s mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.

She sucked a deep breath into her lungs and erased the message before thinking better of it. She’d probably received the message by mistake. She’d never taken anything from anyone. Why would someone threaten her? She suddenly wanted to talk to Ethan. She dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Reagan?” His deep voice was groggy with sleep.

“Another late night?” she asked. Her heart was still pounding, but she felt safer just hearing his voice.

“Yeah, lucky me.”

“Sorry I woke you.”

“I’m glad you called. I’ve been wondering how you’ve been. I didn’t want to come across as a paranoid, overprotective asshole, so I somehow managed to keep myself from calling you.”

“You are paranoid and overprotective.”

“But not an asshole?”

“Usually not.”

He laughed. “So why did you call? Everything okay?”

“Mostly.”

“New boyfriend getting on your nerves already?”

“No. Trey’s wonderful. I called my dad this morning. Told him about the tour.”

Ethan groaned. “I can imagine how that went.”

“And then… I got a strange text message.”

“Strange? Strange how?”

“Threatening.”

“Someone threatened you?” Ethan no longer sounded groggy. “Who sent it?”

“I don’t know. I deleted it. I didn’t think to check.”

“I can probably get the information from the phone company, but it will take some digging and persuasion.”

Ethan’s means of persuasion were far different from Trey’s methods.

“What time did you get it?” he asked.

“Right before I called you.”

“Seven thirty-ish your time.”

She nodded.

“Reagan?”

“I’m here. Yeah, around seven thirty.”

“I’ll see if I can find out who sent it. If you get another one, make sure you don’t delete it.”

“It scared me,” she admitted.

“What did it say?”

“‘You took what’s mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.’”

“Probably some jealous ex of your new boyfriend’s. It was most likely an empty threat, but I’ll still check up on it. Are you still scared?”

“I feel better now.” Ethan always made her feel safe. She was thinking she overreacted. She’d never been threatened like that before.

“If you need your bodyguard a couple weeks early, I can fly out. Where are you now? On your way to Saint Louis, right?”

“How did you know?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I sort of mapped out your entire trip based on the tour dates posted on Sinners’ website.”

Reagan laughed. “See. You are paranoid and overprotective.”

“You can count on it.”

“I’ll be okay, Ethan. Thanks for being there when I needed you.”

“You can count on that too.”

Several days later, standing in the dressing room of the venue in Indianapolis, Trey held his cell phone in an iron grip. “What do you mean, you’re stuck in traffic?” Trey asked Brian. “We have to be onstage in twenty minutes.”

“It can’t be helped, Trey. I didn’t order a car fire on the interstate in an attempt to annoy everyone.”

“If you’d quit fucking running off to L.A. every frickin’ night—”

“I have other obligations now, Trey. I know the word ‘responsibility’ isn’t in your vocabulary, but maybe you should think about someone other than yourself for five goddamned minutes.”

Trey hated arguing with Brian. The man had a skill for laying on a guilt trip. “I’m not thinking of myself. I’m thinking about those twenty thousand fans who paid to see us perform and who expect us to be onstage at ten o’clock. Not ten thirty. Not eleven. Ten.”

“So stall them for half an hour. I’ll be there. I’m just going to be late.”

“Stall them? What are we going to do? Put Jace onstage to do his knock-knock joke routine?”

“You’ll think of something.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Trey caught sight of Reagan laughing with (or at) Eric. “You know what? We’ll just start without you.”

Trey hung up before Brian could say anything else. Trey found Sed drinking a beer with several fans who’d scored VIP passes from a local radio station.

“Brian’s going to be late,” Trey told him.

“Late?” Sed glanced at the clock. “Like how late?”

“At least thirty minutes.”

“Fuck. The crowd will go berserk by then.” Sed set his beer down and headed toward the dressing room exit. The last of the opening bands was finishing up their set. Trey knew what Sed’s plan was. Try to keep the Kickstart onstage longer. Trey had a better idea. At least he thought it was great. He started after Sed.

One of the fans grabbed Trey’s arm. “Is Master Sinclair okay?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, he’s just stuck in traffic. No worries.”

By the time Trey caught up with him, Sed was talking to Kickstart’s soundboard operator. The guy shook his head and pointed at his watch. Sed wiped a hand over his face and stared up at the rigging over the stage.

Onstage, Kip Forrester, the lead singer of Kickstart, yelled, “Are you ready for Sinners to rock your faces off?”

The crowd roared and then followed Kip in chanting, “Sinners, Sinners, Sinners.” He was doing his job as a great opening act by getting the crowd pumped up for the headlining band.

Trey took Sed by the arm and led him to a quieter hallway behind the stage. “If we make them wait an hour before we start the show, they’ll probably riot.”

“That’s what I was thinking. William says there’s no way Kickstart can do another encore. Any ideas?”

“Reagan can fill in for Brian.”

Sed looked at him as if he’d said, “Reagan can walk on water.”

“Just to get us started,” Trey clarified. “As soon as Brian gets here, he can take over.”

“I don’t think our fans will like that much. Most of them come just to see Brian.” He paused. “And me.”

Sed was never short in self-confidence.

“Do you have a better idea?” Trey asked.

“Yeah, I do. We’ll tell Brian he can’t go back to L.A. after every show. Put our foot down with him. This is bullshit. I thought he was going to pass out onstage in Saint Louis.”

Trey scoffed. “Good luck with that, Sed. He’s not going to give up seeing his family for anything.”