The man turned and looked her over blatantly from the toe of her Jimmy Choos to the bun that resided near the top of her head. “Depends. You’re not from the IRS are you?”
Dammit! She’d felt the blush from the second the band members broke out in laughter. “No, can’t say I am. I’m Pamela Myers.”
“Okaaaaay and Miss Pamela Myers, who exactly are you?”
Seriously? Had they not even told the band she was coming? “I was hired by Ragged Ruins Promotions as your new personal assistant. Pleasure to meet you.” At least, he shook her hand when she offered it. “All of the members of Deep Bend actually.” Not letting her smile falter as she looked at each member, no matter their confused faces.
“No shit?”
“Excuse me? Didn’t your agent…Mr. Robert Gillstrom inform you of my arrival?”
Inform you of my arrival, really? “Yeah, I knew we were getting a PA, but I didn’t think it’d be someone like you, Patricia.”
“Pamela, Pamela Myers.”
“Pamela, I’m sorry but I expected a man or at least a woman who’s been on the road before.”
“I’ve been on the road before.”
“With who exactly?”
“I can’t share that information. There’s always been a nondisclosure agreement during my employment, but I can tell you that I’ve been under contract with at least three Billboard Top 100 artists in the last six years.”
“Impressive.”
Mister sulking bodyguard interjected. “If you’re so good at your job, why aren’t you still with any of these big shots?”
All of the band members swung from Chains back to her, awaiting her answer. “Because I’m brought in when the trains derailed and needs some guidance to get it back on the tracks and running smoothly.” Knowing her smile was snotty, she made sure the brute got its full effect. “Then, I move on to the next train wreck, if you will.” Not so smug now, huh? “Where are my manners? This is your new bodyguard, Chains.” Nobody batted an eye at the bearded, tattooed, built man who answered to Chains, but they looked at her like she had a second head? Really?
Chapter Three
Three busses and two semi-trailers later, they were on the blacktop with wheels spinning on their way to St. Louis, Missouri. They had a two-show gig there, both sold out. Not that being sold out was unexpected since it was Strut’s hometown.
All five members of Deep Bend could’ve easily fit onto one bus, but since they’d risen to the top of their genre, they no longer had to live in such cramped quarters. After renegotiating their new contract, two more buses were added to the bands convoy.
“This is bullshit, you know that, right?
Here we go again. They’d only been on the road for two hours and already Strut was strutting along her nerves with his piss poor attitude. He’d been pissed to the high heavens since he found out that she and Chains would both be on his bus. “It is what it is, Strut.”
“What if I wanna bang some bitch? Or a few of them?”
“I will in no way interrupt your extra-curricular activities, I assure you, Strut.”
“If you’re bunking on my bus? You’re in the way, Patricia.”
“It’s Pamela—her fucking name is Pamela!”
They both turned and momentarily stared at the brute of a man in silence before Strut mumbled. “And he speaks. Who the fuck knew?”
“Thank you, Chains.” Turning back to Strut, she continued. “I will stay out of your way. Ragged Ruins chose this bus for the sole purpose of its second bedroom—”
“How do you know that exactly?”
“I asked for this bus.”
“Bullshit.”
“Far from. That’s one of my contract stipulations.” Opening the fridge, she reached inside and pulled out an iced tea offering it to both men. “Care for a tea?”
“What in the hell is that shit? Where’s my Red Bull?”
“Your energy drinks as well as the alcoholic beverages have all been moved to the fridge in your room, Strut.”
“You can’t just come in here and start changing shit!”
“Yes, yes, I can. Actually, that’s my job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to finish before we hit St. Louis.” She smiled at both men. “Chains, Strut.”
After she’d reached, the safe haven of her room, Pamela released the breath she’d been holding. This was all part of her job, a job she loved. Although the beginning stages she could easily live without. The damn princes and princesses she always worked with battled her every step of the way in the beginning. It might be twisted, but she always enjoyed it when they finally came around. At one time, she’d considered following in her father’s footsteps and becoming a lawyer, but she was drawn to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood instead. Look where that got her. On a bus with a pissed off rock star who most likely hadn’t showered in a week and always smelled of stale cigarettes and Fireball.
The switch from actors to musicians had been a fluke, a favor to a friend in a tight spot, but nine years later, she was still here. Believe it or not, the musicians were easier to deal with than the actors. Oh, they were no walk in the park, but she’d enjoyed life on the road…most of the time.
Unzipping her suitcase that lay on her bed, she began hanging her clothing in the small two-foot wide closet. Living in tight quarters wasn’t anything new. Although this bus was a million times better than any she’d been on before. She hadn’t lied, it had been in her contract, but honestly, she never figured they’d go for it. Call her surprised when Ragged Ruins Promotions hadn’t countered. Pamela had seen this bus, the Regal Sevant XL, at a music festival last summer. She’d been on tour with a pop princess and the Regal Sevant had been their neighbor. An up and coming boy band had just added the bus to their quickly expanding fleet. After befriending their manager, she’d given her a tour of the luxury coach. Pamela had fallen in love. Instead of the normal bunks stationed on either side of a hallway just before a back bedroom, there was a bedroom on one side with a hallway on the other and two sets of bunks just before the bedrooms. A slice of privacy that she’d treasure.
Strut obviously had the large back bedroom with the queen sized bed and its own bathroom. Not that she could complain about her full-size bed at all. She’d slept in one of the bunks before and for months at a time. This place was the Ritz Carlton compared to that. Chains would be bunking it. A small smile played on her lips when she thought of the man with his massive shoulders in the small space.
He’d shocked her today when he corrected Strut on her name…again. The man had called her Patricia a dozen times already. When Chains said her name, it surprised not only her but Strut as well. They’d known Chains a total of three hours and he’d said about ten words tops. She was thankful to see he was silent with everybody and not just her.
One thing Pamela understood was silent treatment. She’d swear that spoiled celebrities took classes in the art. Did they not realize that she cherished the silence? If they wanted to punish her, they may as well continue rambling about costume changes and set lists.
A knock at her door startled her. Sliding the pocket door, she met a broad chest. Looking up, she encountered that beard she’d have recognized amongst a thousand already. “Yes?”
Without a word, he handed her a manila envelope with her name on it. “What’s this?”
“I imagine it’s private since it says confidential across the front of it.”
“I imagine so.” Meeting his eyes, she continued. “We’ll be together for a long time; I’d like to get along with you, Mr. Chains.”
He laughed. “After that play with Strut out there? I think we’ll get along just fine.”