Code red, p.22
Code Red, page 22
This formation wasn’t new. We’d sat together like that a thousand times at these kinds of things, but it did feel a bit different. At one point, Maddox put his arm around the back of my chair, and it felt like everyone stopped and stared.
Of course they didn’t, but I was hyperaware of his every touch, his every glance. This was our first time being in front of them all as a couple. They knew about us. And now we were parading it.
It was strangely both exhilarating and embarrassing.
“No, Ambrose is in some logistics meeting,” Maddox said, and it snapped me out of my head. “He paid us a little visit before he had to leave.”
“He did?” Jeremy asked. “What’d he say?”
Maddox put his fork down. “Not much. Just played the NDA fairy and dropped off two confidentiality contracts.”
“Holy shit,” Luke said.
“Oh god,” Amber said, grimacing.
Wes acted all cute. “How romantic!”
Jeremy’s eyes flashed to mine as if he wanted my take on it. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said. “They’re fairly standard.”
Maddox sighed. “Well, I used to think being gagged and bound sounded like it would be fun, but it’s really not.”
Christ.
Everyone laughed. “NDAs are standard for everything,” Jeremy said. “Everyone from our hairstylists to our house cleaners has to sign them, so don’t worry too much about it.”
“We had to hand out a few at the club the other night,” Blake added. “Well, I dunno about you losers, but I needed two.”
There was more laughter and more trash-talking, and I knew they were only saying that stuff to make Maddox feel better. I also knew it didn’t work.
“But we’re not some random hook-up in a club,” Maddox said when we were back in his room. He was still mad about the whole NDA thing. “You’re not gonna run off to the media and sell a story or a photo. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be with you. Hell, you’re the one person in the world I can trust.”
I cupped his face, his long earrings dangling over my fingers. “I would never hurt you.” I kissed him. “Not ever.”
He basked in that for a second.
“Forget about the contracts,” I urged him. Then I nudged his nose with mine, ghosting a kiss across his lips. “Put it out of your mind. I’m sure we can find other things to do.”
All my assurances didn’t mean shit the next day. We’d been in the air for all of thirty minutes when Ambrose called Maddox and me over for a chat. Ambrose’s section of the plane was considerably nicer than ours. Maddox was already sitting on the leather seat across from Ambrose, so I sat next to him, our thighs touching.
Ambrose smiled at us. “You’ve had a chance to read the revised confidentiality agreements?”
We nodded. “Yep.”
“Any questions about those?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Maddox nodded. “Uh, yeah. Just one. Do you think it’s really necessary?”
Ambrose didn’t even blink. “Yes.”
Maddox stared right back. “It’s insulting.”
I resisted the urge to sigh.
“How long have you been with us?” Maddox asked him. “Five years?”
Ambrose nodded.
Maddox raised his chin. “And have I ever, ever asked for anything?”
Ambrose flinched. “Maddox—”
“No. Spare me the condescending bullshit. This is not to protect me. This is to protect the brand, the company.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you,” Ambrose replied. “You are the brand.”
Maddox laughed. It was not a happy sound. “I’m sure the others will be happy to hear that.” He sat forward in his seat and held up five fingers. “There are five of us. Always. Not one. Five.”
Ambrose sighed. “I know that. That’s not what I meant.”
Maddox aimed a cold, steely gaze at Ambrose. “I signed it, though, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Your precious contract. But not for you, and not for the company. I did it for Roscoe and I did it for the band. Those four guys back there . . . I did it for them. To protect them.”
Ambrose took a moment to let the mood settle. “Maddox, I understand your concerns, but we have contracts in place for a reason. Contracts, I might add, that specifically state that band members are to refrain from interpersonal relations with staff. The company has already expressed leniency because it involves you.”
Maddox’s jaw bulged, his nostrils flared. His voice was quiet and cold. “Is that a threat, Ambrose?”
“Okay, look,” I interrupted, trying to keep the peace. I put my hand on Maddox’s thigh. “No one’s threatening anyone. We signed the papers, it’s done.”
Maddox’s expression softened when he met my gaze. “You know why I have a problem with this.”
“I know,” I replied gently. God, we’d talked about this late into the night and the morning. For Maddox it was about control, which I understood; his entire life was wrapped up in contracts. But what was the alternative? If we didn’t sign, they’d deem our working relationship to be outside their professional parameters and I’d be on the first plane home. He’d argued that, if it ever came down to it, he’d win in a pissing contest with Ambrose, and I’d argued that no one on this tour needed that kind of stress.
We could discuss long-term rules and whatever after the tour. We just had to get through the next few weeks and see where we stood.
Maddox took a deep breath and his hand slid over mine, threading our fingers. In front of Ambrose, and that was a pretty ballsy move. “Okay, Ambrose, here it is. I have my job to do, Roscoe has his job to do. That won’t change. What we do in our own time is no one else’s business, and we’re not asking for special treatment. The public gets told nothing. I won’t have us used as a marketing ploy to spin for ratings. We travel as we always have; during the day, Roscoe’s with me. On a plane, like now, Roscoe’s with Ryan and Amber, and I’m with the guys, like we always do. But in hotels, wherever we are, Roscoe and I share a room.”
Ambrose stared at him, then shifted in his seat. “About that . . .”
“It’s not negotiable,” Maddox replied flatly.
“We think it might be for the best if Roscoe moves to a different unit.” Ambrose then looked to me. “You can take Jeremy and Wes. Ryan can take Maddox. That way there’s no conflict of interest and no safety concerns.”
“Safety?” I asked.
“No,” Maddox said at the same time.
“Security has expressed concerns,” Ambrose continued, looking at me. “That the two of you together pose a bigger security risk . . .”
“Oh, so, when it was good for ratings, you didn’t care,” Maddox said sardonically. “But now that you can use it against us, you’re all ears. How terribly convenient.” His grip on my hand was getting a little bone-crushy.
I pulled my hand free and patted his quickly. “Is that the only stipulation?” I asked Ambrose.
“Roscoe,” Maddox cried, giving me a disbelieving glare. “What the hell?”
“Maddox,” I whispered. “Riding in a separate car is better than not sharing a room, don’t you think?”
“We shouldn’t have to choose!”
I sighed. This was going nowhere. It wasn’t going to go anywhere. I understood both sides. The business/management side, but my heart sided with Maddox. I squeezed his hand. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just get through this tour first.”
Maddox’s jaw was clenched shut. “I’m really sick of being a pawn in this game.” He pulled his hand from mine and stood. “And I’m really fucking sick of having my own life dictated to me.” And with that, he stormed through the door to his section of the plane.
I sighed. “Jesus Christ.”
Ambrose’s expression was stoic, though his nostrils flared just a fraction. If that was any indication, he was slightly ruffled. “Thank you for seeing my point of view,” he said.
His point of view?
“Let’s just make one thing clear,” I said, my voice low. “I’m on his side. Every time. And I’m telling you, as his manager, he’s not coping with stress right now. He doesn’t sleep unless I’m there. He has trouble breathing sometimes, and his blood pressure went through the roof the other day. So don’t fucking push him, because like you said, he’s the brand. If he can’t go on stage or if he refuses, the others won’t go on without him and this whole tour gets canceled.” He stared and I stared right the fuck back. “I’m on his side. I always have been. And I’m telling you not to fucking push him.”
I was about to say more until I noticed Jeremy standing by the door. I don’t know how much he heard. Enough by the looks of it.
“Jeremy?”
“Uh,” he looked between us. “Just checking everything’s okay? Maddox is pissed, and you’ve seen that movie where they talked about not putting the Hulk in a flying tin can . . .”
I stood up, giving Ambrose one last glare as I walked out.
When I got up to Maddox’s section, he was standing at his seat, fighting with the blanket and pillow. “Hey.”
He didn’t turn around. “Fuck him.”
“No thanks. He’s really not my type.”
Wes, in the seat behind, laughed. Maddox turned then and his shoulders sagged. “Don’t try being funny. I am pissed off.”
I sat on Jeremy’s seat. “It won’t be so bad.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“Because he didn’t fire me.” Though after my parting words, that could change. I didn’t say that out loud.
Maddox sighed at the ceiling. “Fuck.”
Jeremy came back in and stopped when he saw me in his seat, though he did smile. “Hey, Roscoe, is there a mile-high club for ripping your boss a new asshole at thirty-thousand feet? Because you just gave Ambrose a one-way membership.”
I snorted and Maddox shot me a look. “You did what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know about ripping him a new asshole, but he knows where I stand.”
“Speaking of standing,” Jeremy said, ushering me out of his seat.
I stood up and gave Maddox a smile. “Try and get some sleep.” Though that was very unlikely now.
I went back to my section, knowing Jeremy would tell Maddox what he heard me say, and I was glad. I wanted Maddox to know I would defend him, and it didn’t hurt that the guys knew it either.
Amber’s eyes met mine as I took my seat. “What happened?”
“Well, he didn’t fire me,” I replied. “Yet.”
Buenos Aires was a beautiful city. Our security was about tenfold, but the massive crowds were respectful and polite, mostly. They lined the streets, cheering and waving, so we had a full police escort to the hotel.
Getting into a vehicle with Jeremy and Wes and watching Ryan take Maddox was an odd feeling.
“This is new,” Wes said as I took my seat. “We got Roscoe the cat herder.”
“I bet Maddox is such a happy kitten right now,” Jeremy said. “I bet Ryan’s day just got a whole lot worse too. A moody Maddox is not fun.”
“Leave him alone,” I muttered.
Jeremy laughed. “I’m just kidding.” And he was kidding, I could tell by his eyes. Did he like me more now after he’d heard me defend Maddox to Ambrose? Possibly. Then he took out his phone and called Maddox. “Hey, Madz. Just wanted to let you know that Roscoe is as miserable as I bet you are.”
I couldn’t hear what Maddox replied but from the way Jeremy laughed, I could only assume it was colorful. Then he checked the screen. “He hung up on me.”
“I’m not saying this with one hundred percent certainty,” I said, “but there is a very good chance you deserved that.”
Jeremy laughed at that. “So how long have we got you for?”
I shrugged. “For the remainder of the tour, I think.”
He sighed, his smile fading. “It’s such bullshit. I mean, I can understand why Ambrose did it. I guess. Or why he thought it was a good idea, at least. But changing how we operate halfway through a tour is bullshit, and does he honestly think Maddox is gonna put up with it?” He shrugged. “It accomplishes nothing. If anything, it makes it worse.”
“We’ll be fine,” I replied. “It just is what it is. We adapt and roll with it.”
Wes squinted at me. “You’ve met Maddox, right? I mean, you do know him. So you know that he adapts to change like a . . . like a Rubik’s Cube dropped off the top of a building.”
Jeremy made a face at him, then he tilted his head. “Well, that’s a weird analogy, but it’s kinda true.”
“Yeah,” Wes added. “He can know the ground’s coming at him and he can see it getting closer and he can tell himself he’s gonna be okay, but when it hits, he’s in a thousand broken pieces before you know it.”
I didn’t like that analogy at all.
“The ground is the change,” Wes clarified. “And Madz is the Rubik’s Cube. In case you didn’t get that.”
“Yeah I got it, thanks,” I murmured. “But he’s not broken.”
No one spoke for a while as we weaved our way through the streets to our hotel.
Wes shivered. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold.”
We’d given them a weather rundown before we left, but apparently he hadn’t listened. I called out to the security in the front seat. “Hey, Robbie, can we get some heat back here please.”
I could feel Jeremy staring at me, and I eventually risked a glance at him. There was something about his expression. Was it understanding? Or acknowledgment? Empathy, maybe? “He’ll be okay.”
I nodded and went back to reading emails and checking my newly updated schedule, which now revolved around Jeremy and Wes and not Maddox. It made my heart hurt.
When we arrived at the hotel, we were taken to our floor and into what would be the common room for our five days here, so we could sort out rooms and keys. We arrived first, Luke and Blake with Amber were next, and it was a few very long minutes before Maddox and Ryan came in.
Maddox searched the room until he saw me. My relief and smile were instantaneous; the butterflies and heart-skips were too. But there wasn’t time for anything else, because the hotel manager was soon calling out our names and keys were distributed.
Luke. Jeremy. Wes. Blake. They each took their key in turn.
“Maddox and Roscoe.”
Maddox grinned and took the key. Jeremy nudged me and I had to bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from smiling. We slipped out of the common room and walked down the hall without a word. Maddox stopped at our room, opened the door, and held it for me.
It felt . . . exciting, somehow. That we were now officially sharing a room. It almost made up for us being separated.
Almost.
The room was huge, with spectacular views to downtown. There was a very large, very soft-looking bed, a couch, a table with chairs. I slid my backpack onto the table and I had barely turned around before Maddox slammed into me, his arms around me, his face pressed into my neck.
“I missed you,” he mumbled.
“I missed you too.”
He pulled back. “We get to share a room.”
“Ambrose is a fast learner.”
He smiled. “Jeremy told me what you said to him.”
I kissed him, soft and lingering. “Maddox, we have one hour before we’re supposed to be back out there and I really don’t want to spend it thinking about anyone but you.”
He hoisted himself up onto me, wrapped his legs around my waist, and grinned, sultry and dark. “Shower?”
Hell yes.
I walked, carrying him like that, into the huge marble bathroom. “Shower.”
The next three days were busy. My days were spent mostly with Jeremy and Wes, driving with them to the stadium for rehearsals and fittings. There was choreography practice and a shopping trip—which Maddox actually went to, only to spend time with me—and it was weird being around him but not with him. I was fine with helping Jeremy and Wes and going from one band member to two, but I hated the fact that Ryan got to spend all that time with Maddox when it should have been me.
The nights made up for it though.
Sharing a room with Maddox was as easy as breathing. Sharing a bed without fear of being caught was even better. If someone knocked on the door, there were no excuses, no pretending.
He’d play his guitar if I had work to do, and he’d jot things down in his notebook when the urge took him. Waking up next to him was my most favorite thing. I hit the gym and left him sleeping and would come back to the room to find him on my side of the bed, dozing.
Then we would shower together and go for breakfast with the team. He held my hand once and put his arm around my waist. I even slung my arm around his shoulder one time. It was thrilling.
It was just peaceful and easy. So fucking easy.
Concert day was hectic, our schedules full. We were at the stadium by early afternoon for final dress rehearsals, and the crowd had been lining up since before dawn. Thousands of people were outside the stadium buying merch, and we could hear them singing and chanting Atrous songs hours before the boys were to take the stage.
It was a beautiful thing.
“He hates it,” Ryan said next to me.
I glanced from the guys on stage to him. “He hates what?”
“Having me instead of you.” Ryan shrugged. “Gotta say, I thought managing one guy would be so much easier than having two. But I get it now.”
I wasn’t following. “Get what now?”
“The crowds, the photographers, the cameras.” Ryan shook his head and frowned. “I mean, they scream for the others too, but it’s different with him.”
I nodded. “It is.”
“It’s scarier.”
“I know.”
“Steve seems more on edge too.”
“Steve? Why? Did something happen?” Why would the head of security be on edge?
“I think he knows Maddox isn’t comfortable with me. It makes him . . . distracted.” Ryan grimaced. “Have you seen the pictures?”
“No.” What fucking pictures? I had my phone out in a heartbeat. And there it was, all over social media.
