Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
They reached to grab the unconscious woman. It wasn’t the first time he’d made a fan faint, but it never stopped being a little disconcerting. He liked driving them wild … he didn’t like driving them unconscious. Especially in a crowd this rough. They were pushing around the women, uncaring they might trample them.
“Back up!” he shouted at the people behind. His bandmates followed suit and stopped playing. “Give them room. Can we get a medic in the front row?” He directed toward stage left where the staff hovered.
Jamal caught his eye and said into his mic, “Making them faint again, Eli?”
He grimaced at his bandmate’s teasing as the crowd laughed.
Once the paramedics had safely removed the brunette and her friends from the crowd, Elijah apologized to the fans, and they restarted the song. This time, he didn’t sing it directly at anyone. Soon the incident was forgotten, and the two-hour set flew by.
Even after their encore, the crowd demanded more.
“It’s never fucking enough,” Phil griped, wiping a towel across his sweat-soaked forehead as the manager led them back to their dressing room, a place they wouldn’t be staying long. At least Elijah wouldn’t. He was still vibrating with unleashed energy.
“Be grateful, you grumpy fuck,” Jamal said as they disappeared into the room. As soon as the door shut, they technically couldn’t hear the crowd anymore, but for hours after a gig, Elijah still heard the roar in his ears.
“I am grateful. I’m also bloody knackered.”
Elijah frowned. Maybe he hadn’t poured enough energy into the guys tonight. Patting Phil on the shoulder, he leaked some of that energy into his friend. “Only a few more gigs. Belgium. Then home.”
Yeah, their tour was almost over. As always, Elijah experienced a mixture of deflation and relief.
Phil’s eyes brightened ever so slightly. “You’re right. And you know what, I’m not actually that tired. Guess I’m just missing Nicole and Alex.”
“Still can’t believe you’ve got a two-year-old, mate.” Jamal shook his head. “You’re making me feel old.”
“Why? I’m the one with the kid.” His expression fell. “Who I haven’t seen in weeks.”
“We’ll all be back in London before we know it,” Adam said. “Let’s enjoy being here. I read about this bar just five minutes away. Let’s go get fucked.”
“Not me.” Phil stood. “You know Nicole doesn’t like it.”
“Pussy-whipped.” Adam glared at him.
“Don’t start. I wouldn’t like it if she was out clubbing with her mates, and she’s not a bloody famous musician with groupies trying to stick their hands down her fucking trousers all the time.”
“Leave off him.” Jamal shoved Adam playfully. “I’m not going either. I just want to read a bit.”
Adam shook his head in amazement. “Read a bit? You’re the hot bass player from the Strix. Besides pretty boy here”—he gestured to Elijah—“you’re the one the fans want to see. And you’re going to read a book?”
Smirking at Jamal’s beleaguered expression, Elijah snorted. The members of the Strix hadn’t started out as the rock stars they were now. Once upon a time, they were all geeks who schoolyard bullies got a kick out of abusing. The bookish, intelligent, reserved boy in Jamal had never really gone away, and Elijah wouldn’t want it to. Adam was the only one who’d let their fame go to his head. Elijah liked to play into it, but he was careful not to allow his ego off its leash.
“Let him read his book, for Christ’s sake.” Elijah grinned at Adam. “I’ll come with you.”
“At least one of you isn’t a pussy-whipped swot.”
“Adam, I love you, mate, but you’re such a prick sometimes.” Elijah pushed him toward the door. “Night, lads,” he called back to Jamal and Phil. “See you back at the hotel in the morning.”
“Make sure he doesn’t end up the cover story for an Austrian newspaper,” Jamal warned.
Elijah nodded in promise and followed Adam out.
Their security met up to escort them, and all the time Elijah pretended to listen to his friend whine about their bandmates. Sensing his agitation growing, Elijah smacked Adam on the shoulder and filtered a little calming energy into him. Almost immediately, his attitude changed.
“I suppose I understand it with Phil. He’s got his bird to think about. But what’s Jamal’s deal?”
Elijah couldn’t answer as they left Arena, their security shoving them forcefully toward the SUV as screaming fans tried to push past to grab hold of them. It was weird how used to that he’d gotten. At first, it had been jarring as hell.
Once they were ensconced inside the vehicle and the driver had directions for their destination, Elijah answered Adam. “Before we were the Strix, you never gave Jamal shit for being who he is.”
Adam frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Other than a great bass player, Jamal was always quiet, read a lot, and liked his own space. That didn’t change because we got famous. And why should it? You giving him shit for it makes you a dick.”