JENNIE
After Dallas, the tour meandered through the Midwest. It was just as flat, open, and spacious as Lisa had told me. I found the monotony of the environment relaxing, it allowed my mind to drift. And, like it so often did, my mind drifted to Lisa—my past with Lisa, to be exact. The bus was noisy and boisterous with so many boys on it, but I found small pockets of time throughout the day where I could hide in the back bedroom and write a paragraph or two.
This bus was a lot like the last bus Lisa and the guys had been on, more designed for capacity than comfort. The "bedroom" in the back was basically a larger version of a cubby—a thin mattress shoved up against the back portion of the bus. It constantly smelled like engine exhaust. The flimsy door cut out some of the sound though, and the bed was large enough for Lisa and me to sleep side by side, so I was satisfied. It wasn't as nice as our place back home, but it was better than the bunk beds.
We'd left Niki about a week ago. She'd headed back to her tour with a smirk on her face, and we'd packed up and moved on to the next location. The headlines the next morning were huge—Niki Zefanya Surprises Girlfriend on Tour! Even though I should have expected it, the gossip shocked me. It just didn't seem to matter what Lisa said or did; everything was twisted around in the media to make it seem like she and Niki were deeply in love.
The still shot of Niki kissing Lisa's shoulder that night was everywhere. I'd even seen fans ask Lisa to sign copies of it backstage. she never did. Saying that Niki wasn't her girlfriend, and the photo was misleading, she always asked them if she could sign something else. And the fans always looked at her like her devotion to keeping her relationship with Niki quiet was endearing. They loved her all the more for the way she protected her, when in reality, Lisa was protecting me.
"Irritated" didn't even begin to describe how I felt about Lis-Nik being the number one gossip story again. At least it would eventually die back down, now that they were apart. And Lisa wouldn't agree to another duet if she happened to "show up" for another publicity stunt; she'd already told me as much. Lisa would just have to keep doing her best at squelching the rumors while we patiently waited for another celebrity couple to pull at the world's heartstrings. And I was sure it would eventually happen. People loved to hear about power couples, especially when the power couple had problems.
We were in South Dakota today, to do a promotion for the tour that cracked me up every time I thought about it. The radio station that was sponsoring the event called it "Darts with D-Bags." They had rented out a local pool hall for the afternoon to host the band and a few dozen contest winners. Lisa was looking forward to throwing darts, but she wasn't the best pool player. Me either. The other D-Bags were decent though; Jackson in particular had a true talent for it. As we drove to the hall in one of the radio station's vans, Jackson started to give Lisa some pointers.
"Now, if the girl is bending in half to make her shot, that means she totally wants you to grab her ass."
"Jackson," I groaned, closing my eyes. What the hell did my sister see in him?
Jackson looked around Lisa to scoff at me. "What? That's what it means. There's no shot on earth that a chick has to bend over that far for. It's obviously code for, 'Grab me now and do naughty things to my no-no places.'"
Looking over at Lisa, I asked her, "Would you mind?"
Smiling, she answered, "Not at all," then reached over and smacked Jackson on the back of the head.
"God, just trying to help, man," Jackson muttered, rubbing his skull.
While Jackson switched his conversation to Evan in the front seat, I leaned my chin against Lisa's shoulder, silently thanking her for understanding what I wanted. She kissed my head as she softly laughed. True, I was trying to be nicer to Jackson, but some comments deserved a good smack. Even Jisoo would have thwacked him for that one.
We arrived at the pool hall and were ushered through the back doors by the radio personnel. Lisa and the boys posed for photos with the DJs while I waited with a group of interns. One girl chewed on her lip while she watched Lisa flash the cameraman a heart-stopping grin. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I heard her groan.
Playing with my wedding ring, I debated if I wanted to try my hand at darts. I wasn't all that coordinated, and there was a distinct possibility that someone could get injured if I threw a pointy object across the room. The intern switched from watching Lisa to watching me. I glanced over at her with a puzzled expression.
"You came in with the guys," she said as her eyes darted to my ring. "You married to one of them?" I could tell she was silently praying that I said no. Nerves clenched my stomach. I hadn't anticipated someone asking me about my relationships. True, this was a one-on-one conversation and not an official interview, but this girl had the ears of the DJs. Saying something to her was akin to saying something to the whole city. Well, maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but I still didn't like the idea.
Not knowing quite what to say, I simply told her, "No. Not married." That was the truth, since legally I wasn't. She looked about to ask me more, but, getting uncomfortable under her scrutiny, I excused myself and walked away.
The contest winners were divided up into four teams, and each team was assigned a D-Bag as its captain. The girls on Lisa's team were very excited. More than a few girls on the other teams seemed a little jealous, but quickly got over it; they were shooting pool and throwing darts with rock stars, after all. I weaseled my way onto Lisa's team. I wouldn't do much good in helping her win, but I could at least give her moral support when we lost. If we lost. I suppose I should start thinking positively. Go Team Manoban!
Each D-Bag had ten contest winners on their coed team. The team was then subdivided into a team of five that would play against another team of five. Plastered on a wall nearby was a complex bracket system that would eventually tell us which "Bag has the largest D." There was even an ostentatious D-shaped trophy for the winning team captain to take home. But the scoring process was more complicated than any statistics assignment I'd ever had at school, and I couldn't figure out how it all worked. All I knew was that even though Lisa and I were on the same team, she insisted on trying to distract me so much that I botched almost every shot.
During the dart game, Lisa would reach over and pinch the back of my thigh right as I was about to shoot. I missed the board three times in a row. One time when she did it, I'd been concentrating so hard on hitting the target—any target—that I hadn't noticed her behind me. Right as I was getting ready to throw, she nonchalantly ran her hand around my hip and into my front pocket. It scared the shit out of me. I twisted as I tossed, and flung the dart into a clump of pool players. It hit Jackson in the ass. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we were playing electronic darts, and Jackson wasn't injured. He did retaliate, though, by flicking a blue cue chalk at Lucas, whom he'd incorrectly assumed had tagged him.
Lisa laughed so hard she had to step away from the game. A crowd of girls hovered around her like cats circling an open can of tuna. But again, the people around didn't seem to think it was weird that Lisa flirted so much with me. Probably because they all shamelessly flirted with her. It was like Pete's on crack. Lisa spent most of her nonplaying time swatting touchy-feely palms away, and politely redirecting wandering fingers. Even I had to admit, it was pretty amusing.
When our group switched over to the pool tables, the team's rankings were: Jackson's team, Evan's team, Lucas's team, and then Lisa's team. I wasn't surprised that we were dead last. Nobody on our team was focusing very well, except maybe the three male contest winners. Although, even those guys found it hard to shoot pool with so many flirtatious girls around.
While two of the men on our losing team hit on a tall redhead who clearly only had eyes for Lisa, I leaned over to her and whispered, "Twenty bucks says I sink more shots than you."
Lisa scoffed at me. "Forty bucks says you just lost twenty bucks." I laughed at her remark and stuck my hand out to shake hers. Lisa's lip curled into a smile that sent my heart soaring. "No, let's make this interesting. If I win, we have sex backstage tonight. If you win, we have sex backstage tonight."
I wanted to laugh again, but the way she said sex froze my brain for a second. "Um . . . I don't think you understand how betting works."
Moving in close to me, she breathed her response into my ear while she rested her hand on my stomach. "Don't I?"
"Okay," I muttered, wanting her to slide her hand down a little. "Deal." I had no idea where we'd find privacy in the circus that was the backstage area, but I didn't really care at that moment.
Lisa and I both proceeded to miss shot after shot after shot. I was beginning to wonder what the rules of our bet were if we tied with zero, when the sun shone down upon Lisa and she finally sank a ball in a pocket. she seemed just as surprised as me. Throwing her fist in the air, she shouted, "Yes!"
Since our team was still dead last, everyone around looked at her like she was slightly off-kilter. Lisa didn't care, though. Grinning like a little girl, she started playing her pool cue like it was a guitar. I rolled my eyes, but the girls watching her flew into a giggling fit.
While they fawned over how adorable she was, she told me, "I win." I knew I'd probably have one more chance to sink a ball, and I also knew the odds of me doing that were pretty slim. And I also knew that it didn't really matter who won this game—we were having sex backstage tonight.
As for who won the D-Bag cup, that honor eventually went to Evan. It was an upset heard around the pool hall. Mainly because Jackson let out a Braveheart-worthy yell of defeat when his team lost by four points. Who knew a kitschy plastic trophy was such a point of pride?
Evan proudly displayed his giant "D" on his lap the entire ride back to the radio station. By the time we all headed out to the venue, Jackson was so bent out of shape, he wouldn't even look at Evan anymore. "You cheated," he muttered.
"How could I possibly cheat?" Evan countered.
Sniffing, Jackson murmured. "I don't know, but you definitely cheated."
"If you mean I cheated by being better than you, than yes, I totally cheated."
Lisa chuckled at her band mates while Jackson scowled at Evan. As the conversations shifted to less combative topics, Lisa looked over at me with pure, undiluted desire in her eyes. "I'm really looking forward to the show tonight. I can hardly wait."
I felt my cheeks heating as her innuendo hit me full force. Wanting to match her playfulness, I murmured, "Yeah, I know. I think it's going to be a real rager." Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?
Lisa's eyes widened, along with her smile. "I think I'll be drenched by the time I'm done."
I immediately looked away. Oh God, this was so embarrassing . . . and hot. Looking back, I smirked and told her, "Yeah, you'll probably be completely drained." I couldn't believe I said it with a straight face. Lisa either. She looked away, her lips twitching.
Just as she composed herself, we arrived at the rear entrance to the theater where the guys were playing tonight. Before Lisa opened her door, she told me, "I hope I have the stamina to plow through it."
Following after her as she exited the car, I tossed out, "I'm sure you'll reach your climax."
All of the guys were staring when I got of the car. Lucas and Evan looked surprised by what I'd just said; Jackson looked a little turned on. Lisa was barely containing her amusement. Feeling red-hot, I locked eyes with Lisa. "That wasn't subtle enough, was it?"
She shook her head, then fell apart as she started laughing hysterically. I covered my eyes with my hands. God. Guess I'm still an idiot. When I heard Lucas and Evan start chuckling, I peeked through my fingers. They were giving me such affectionate smiles that I couldn't help but start laughing too.
Everyone walked into the theater in a really good mood. Especially Jackson, who was a few steps behind us, simulating thrusting while he was walking. When he started getting left behind the group, he moaned out, "Wait for me, I'm coming." I bit my cheek and made a mental note to leave the provocative talk for times when Lisa and I were alone, or at least, nowhere near Jackson.
As Lucas and Evan headed over to help out with setting up the show, Lisa stepped behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. "Where shall we go?" she asked as she bent down and nuzzled my neck.
I glanced around the room already buzzing with fans and rock stars. There really wasn't any privacy here; even the bathrooms were constantly opening and closing as people used them. Looking over my shoulder, I asked her, "Were you serious about that bet?"
Lisa spun me in her arms. A couple of fans stopped and stared at her; they obviously wanted a turn being held by Niki's flirty girlfriend. "Was I serious about the sex? Always." Leaning down, she whispered in my ear, "And I'm pretty sure I have a favor to return." Her lips brushed against my ear as she said it, and a jolt of electricity shot down my spine. I could feel the heat returning to my body, but it had nothing to do with embarrassment this time.
Grabbing my hand, Lisa started pulling me through the throngs. I had no idea where she was taking me. Storage closet, maybe? People we passed by murmured that Lisa sure was friendly with her fans, but they said it in an excited way. I even overheard one girl saying, "I hear Niki's really cool about her flirting, so maybe we'll get to cuddle next!"
I almost couldn't believe how dense some people were, but it really wasn't their fault. They didn't know her, they didn't know me. They only had money-hungry gossip magazines to believe. It really made me wonder what celebrity stories I'd firmly bought into that had actually been complete crap.
Lisa was making a beeline for a hallway. She had to stop and sign something every five steps, but she always resumed her path when she was finished. Her determination made me giggle. "Shouldn't you be helping set up the show, rock star?" There weren't a lot of roadies on the tour, so all the guys helped out with setup and teardown. Lisa was being a slacker by slipping away with me.
Lisa smirked at me over her shoulder. "When I can concentrate properly, I'll—"
Her comment was cutoff when Justin bumped into her. Eyes glued to his cell phone, Justin had been walking on a perpendicular path to us and hadn't noticed Lisa in time to avoid her. Justin looked up when he was jostled, and the small smile on his face turned sheepish. "Oh, hey, sorry, wasn't watching where I was going." He flashed his phone at us, and I noticed Kate's picture in the corner. I wasn't too shocked to see it there; last time I'd spoken with her, she'd told me that Justin texted her every couple of days. She always giggled after she mentioned his name. It made me happy that Justin and Kate were frequently talking; he was a good guy, and she was a sweetheart.
I smiled at him while Lisa said, "No problem, we were just . . . running an errand."
Justin scrunched his forehead together like he was trying to figure out just what errand we could possibly be running backstage. I had the sudden urge to pinch Lisa again. She was usually much better at making up stories.
Lisa clapped Justin's shoulder, then started to move around him. Justin let us walk by, then called out, "Hey, I just wanted to let you know, I totally understand, and there's no hard feelings. We're cool, dude."
Lisa stopped in her tracks and looked back at Justin. "What are you talking about?"
Justin took a step toward us. "You leaving the tour. I just wanted you to know that I get it. You guys are bigger than this. Even I'll admit that."
Lisa's jaw dropped. "I'm . . . leaving . . . what? What the hell are you talking about?"
Justin's expression was a strange combination of horror, shock, and confusion. "You don't know? I just assumed you knew. Fuck, sorry, man."
Lisa's face clouded over. "Know what? What the hell happened since this morning?"
Justin sighed as he ran a hand through his choppy hair. "Ah, crap. Well, it went down while you guys were doing the thing with the radio station. Some, ah, bigwig from the label showed up and started barking orders at people. He said that he'd be sending people over after the show tonight to 'collect' your things, and if anybody else touched your stuff, there'd be hell to pay."
Lisa's grip on my hand tightened, and I subtly stroked her forearm. "And where exactly are they sending our stuff? Where the fuck are we going?"
Justin shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with being the bearer of bad news. "Uh, back to L.A. You're playing Staples Center tomorrow night . . . with Niki Zefanya. The label's putting you on her tour."
For just a fraction of a second while Justin had been speaking, I'd thought Lisa had somehow done something really wrong, and she was being tossed off the tour as a punishment. Maybe she'd even be sent home. I wasn't sure. But after Justin said her name, it all started making sense. Niki wanted her spotlight amplified, and Lisa was just the extra wattage she needed. "That bitch!" I exclaimed.
Justin looked over at me, then back to Lisa. "I don't think it was her. It's just, you know, you guys are huge now. I mean, you could be selling out venues ten times as big as the places we're going. The label knows that. They're just doing what makes sense, and they're right. It really doesn't make sense for you to be on tour with us. I knew that the minute Niki showed up for the duet." He clasped Lisa's arm. "You're beyond this, man. We're holding you back."
Clearly not agreeing, Lisa shook her head. She tried to say something, but she didn't have any words. Understanding, Justin smiled, gave her two congratulatory smacks on the back, then walked away. Lisa turned to me. "What the fuck just happened?" she asked.
Sighing, I told her, "Niki and Nick. That's what happened."
Lisa dug in her pocket for her phone. "I don't think so." She scrolled through her contact list until she reached Nick's number, then she started the call and brought the phone to her ear. While it rang, she murmured, "This is bullshit, and this is not how this is going down."
Lisa's eyes hardened and I could tell Nick had picked up. "What did you do?" Fuming, Lisa listened in silence for a moment, then surprise washed over her features. "You're where?" Lisa looked back at the hallway that we'd been approaching earlier. "Fine, I'll see you in a minute." I guess we were going down there after all, just for an entirely different reason now.
Lisa shoved the phone back in her pocket and stormed forward. Since she was still holding tight to me, I had no choice but to follow her. I didn't want to miss this anyway. Nick couldn't do this. He didn't own Lisa. He couldn't just dictate where she went and who she went with. That seemed completely out of line to me, and way beyond the scope of Lisa's contract.
There were a few rooms along the hall that people were stumbling into and out of. But there was only one room with a man standing in front of it, arms crossed over her chest. Lisa headed straight for that room. The man glanced at Lisa coming then rapped on the door behind him. "She's here."
Nick must have responded to the man because the guy opened the door for us right as we got there. Lisa didn't even look at the bodyguard as she barged through the door and strode into what appeared to be an office for the theater. Nick was patiently waiting for Lisa behind a desk littered with paperwork. "Why the hell did you pull us from the tour?"
Nick smiled at us in a perfectly calm and composed way. It irritated me. Indicating a couple of chairs to our left, he said, "Why don't you have a seat?" I started to walk over to one, but Lisa held my hand tight and snapped, "I'm not sitting, and I'm not leaving Justin's tour."
Nick sighed and placed his hands in his lap. "You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice on the matter. You don't. I decide where the acts play, and who they play with." He splayed his hands. "Now, I'm usually a very flexible man, and I strive to give my artists as much free range as possible." I snorted at that, and Nick shot me a hard glance. "But in some cases," he continued, "when my talent is being wholly underrepresented, I feel the need—no, I feel it's my duty—to step in and make things right."
Standing, he casually tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks and strutted our way. His demeanor was laid-back, but yet somehow also intimidating. "The hard fact here is that you're too big of an act. You belong in stadiums. It's a waste of our money and a waste of your talent for you to be playing anything smaller. And I'm not a man to waste . . . anything."
Sitting on the edge of the desk, he shrugged his shoulders. "Niki's tour is where you belong. That was made quite clear to me after that duet she performed on stage with you. It's magic whenever you two are together, and we're going to capitalize on that magic."
Lisa inhaled a deep breath, then stated, "No. I'm staying."
Nick continued like he hadn't just spoken. "Niki's been informed, and she's graciously made room for you. Your stuff is being moved over tonight, which I'm assuming you already know. A car will be picking you up and taking you to the airport the minute your set is over. When you arrive in L.A. a limo will be waiting, courtesy of Ms. Zefanya."
Releasing my hand, Lisa crossed her arms over her chest. "I said we're staying."
Nick slowly stood up. He was shorter than Lisa, but that didn't seem to matter. "And I said you didn't have a choice. If you read your contract, like you said you did, then you should know that the label has final say over your schedule. If we want to pull you from one tour and put you on another, we will. If we want to send you on an over-fifty singles cruise in Alaska, we will. And you'll go, because, what you still don't seem to grasp is . . ." Standing toe to toe with Lisa, he leaned in like he was telling her a secret. "We own you."
When Nick pulled away, he patted Lisa's arm. "And besides, you told me, and I do believe this is a direct quote, 'I will help you promote the album in any way I can . . . within reason.'" He sniffed and straightened his jacket. "I think asking you to perform in the hottest concert tour on earth is very . . . reasonable." He lifted a brow. "Don't you?"
There was nothing Lisa could say to that. Nick had him and Nick knew he had her. He'd always known it. That's why there hadn't been a bigger pissing match the last time Lisa had stood up to him. Nick had been in control all along.
Lisa was trembling when Nick left the room. I could see the thick veins along the sides of her neck and knew she was absolutely livid. Silently standing next to her, I gave her a minute to calm down. It didn't seem to help. Letting out a frustrated grunt, Lisa snatched one of the chairs beside us and flung it at the wall; it left a couple of circular dent marks in the drywall.
I flinched, then tentatively put a hand on her arm. "It will be okay, Lisa."
She snapped her head to me. "I thought I was done being manipulated, but every turn I take another string gets pulled."
I nodded as I cupped her cheek. Her skin was warm, and her eyes were fiery. And damn if it wasn't attractive as hell. "I know this sucks. Believe me, I know. But . . . Nick may actually have a point."
Lisa furrowed her brow, but her anger dissipated a little. "What do you mean?"
Glad that she was calming down, I laced my arms around her neck. "As much as I love Justin and the guys, you are bigger than them. I mean, you've already replaced them as the closing act. You do belong in a stadium." Smiling, I threaded my fingers through her hair. "And Staples Center, Lisa. That's . . . as large as it gets."
Lisa frowned at me. "I like small." A delightful curve appeared on her mouth. "I like intimate."
Reaching up to kiss that delicious mouth, I murmured, "I know. But you might like this too. You won't know for sure if you don't try." I shrugged. "Maybe this will be a good thing."
Lisa shook her head at me. "I think you're being naïve again."
My mind ran through a million horrible scenarios, some probable, like Niki being a constant thorn in our side, some highly improbable, like the record label lacing Lisa with some designer drug so that Niki was able to seduce her for a night. Their drug-induced one-night stand would then result in Niki getting pregnant with the world's most anticipated child. Nick would name her "Platinum."
I frowned at my imagined scenario. "I'm trying to look on the bright side."
Lisa let out a long sigh. "Guess we better go tell the guys the 'good' news."
We were all escorted from the venue the very second the D-Bags were done with their performance. The crowd clamored for "Regretfully" just like they always did, but the guys weren't given time to do an encore. They weren't given time to do anything. In fact, they were swept away so fast that Lisa wasn't able to grab her prized guitar. She worried about her instrument the entire time we were in the air. I briefly considered joining the mile-high club with her, just to get her mind off of it, but in the end I just told her that her baby was in good hands.
The limo waiting for us in Los Angeles was impressive. It wasn't a typical limo, it was a stretch Hummer, a fact that Jackson was nearly epileptic about. After he eagerly climbed in we all heard, "Oh my God, Lis, you gotta see the bar in here. And there's totally room for a stripper pole! I'm so getting one of these someday."
Lisa rolled her eyes at her bassist as she helped me into the gargantuan symbol of affluence—wealth on wheels. The guys had been torn on the news when we'd broken it to them. They liked Avoiding Redemption and the rest of the bands, but touring with Niki was a big deal and could open even bigger doors for them. The exposure was going to be off the charts.
Much to my surprise, Niki was inside the car. She had an open bottle of champagne in her hands and was pouring some into a pair of glasses that Jackson was holding. "Welcome, loves," she brightly exclaimed as we took our seats.
Lucas and Evan warmly acknowledged her while Lisa only gave her a brief smile. Indicating for Jackson to start passing out the glasses of champagne, Niki let out a morose sigh. "I am so very sorry that you were all yanked from your tour like that. Yes, Nick has the right, but as a professional courtesy to the other bands, he shouldn't have done it." Looking like she didn't understand Nick at all, she shook her head as she finished pouring everyone's drinks. "I told him he was making a mistake, and he should leave your band alone, but . . . well, Nick gets carried away sometimes."
She tossed on a charming, sympathetic smile, but I wasn't entirely convinced. Her words sounded great, but this benefitted her just as much as Nick, so I would be hard-pressed to believe that she hadn't had a hand in it. When we were all holding glasses, Niki lifted her drink high into the air. "This may not have been the ideal start to our union, but I say we make the best of it." She extended her glass out to the middle of the car. "To making this the greatest tour anyone has ever seen."
Lisa sighed, but she clinked glasses with everyone. After accepting the toast, she seemed lighter. Like me, she probably didn't believe Niki, but she agreed with her sentiment. Leaving Justin sucked, but it was done, and we all might as well move forward.
After taking her sip, Niki squealed like a little girl. "I can't wait for you guys to see your bus. You'll love it. It is so much nicer than the one you were on."
Lisa looked around at the opulence that she was already surrounded in, but didn't seem impressed. If Niki really knew her, then she would understand that her statement didn't mean much to Lisa. She didn't need things to be happy.
Even though it was really late—or really early—Niki insisted on showing us the busses. The lights were off when we approached, but Niki said the tour had pulled in the night before and the guys were sleeping at a nearby hotel. That brightened my spirits. Would we get to sleep in hotels from time to time? That was one luxury that Justin's tour didn't have.
Nearly glowing with glee, Niki gave us a tour of our new home away from home. Walking down the main aisle, she ran a hand over some plush chairs surrounding securely anchored tables. A curved couch took up a large portion of the "lounging" area, and there was a flat screen TV bolted to the wall in front of it, along with a cabinet nearby overflowing with video games. Niki was right, this bus was much nicer than the one we'd been on. Showcasing every amenity on the bus in a charming accent that made even the drollest words sound sublime, Niki led us to the sleeping area. This bus had cubbies in the wall, just like the last bus, but there weren't nearly as many, so there was a decent amount of room in each one. I'd say two people could fit comfortably, if they snuggled.
Since Niki was squeezing us into a tour that was already in progress, I wondered which bunk Lisa and I would be sleeping in. As I debated if the top bunk was better or worse than the bottom bunk, Niki grabbed Lisa's hand and pulled her through the open curtain that led to the back. Frowning at Lisa's abduction, I followed them. Past the sleeping cubbies was a bathroom—with a shower and everything—and a closed door that I had to assume was the back bedroom.
Niki was standing by the door like Vanna White. Her smile effervescent, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. "For the happy couple," she murmured, her eyes lingering on Lisa's back as she stepped inside.
Lisa reached out a hand for me, and I joined her. The first thing I noticed, besides the fact that this was a hundred times nicer than the glorified cubby we'd slept in on Justin's bus, was the windows. All three walls of the back section of the bus were covered in huge, black, one-way glass panels. At least, I hoped they were one-way glass. I could see everything in the parking lot. Once I got over the openness of the room, the huge bed in the center of it got my attention. A bed . . . we'd be sleeping on an actual bed with a decently supportive mattress! There was a cabinet near the door for our clothes, and even a TV bolted to the wall. It was almost like our own private studio apartment. I could have hugged Niki for rearranging things so we could have this room.
Still dazed at how comfortable Lisa and I might be here, I twisted back to our benefactor. "Thank you, Niki."
She waved off my gratitude. "Anything I can do to help." Lips pursing, she added, "I want this arrangement to work . . . for all parties." The look on her face radiated sincerity, and I wanted so badly to believe her. I just . . . didn't.
