Time (Laws of Physics #3)(25)

Charlie snorted, taking the chair next to Ruthie, which placed him across from me. “Why? You think she’s going to drug him?”

Our guitarist lifted both her hands, palms out. “Hey, man. I’m just saying, the women lose their fucking minds over him. I’ve never seen so many bras on so many stages before, and bras are expensive. It’s raining lingerie every night. That’s not you, and that’s not me.”

Charlie shrugged good-naturedly, but mumbled, “I think it’s a little bit you and me.” His quiet words held an unmistakable edge of defiance.

Ruthie continued like she hadn’t heard him. “If someone has lost their mind, there’s no telling what they’ll do. Alls I’m saying is, if I were Abram, I’d be careful. I wouldn’t accept tea from any of the PAs.” Turning to me, she poked at the teacup. “Wait for Melena to get back. Have her make your tea, just to be safe.”

Melena was our chef, had a master’s degree in nutrition, and was a registered nurse. Other than the three of us, she was the highest paid member of the crew, which made complete sense. She kept us healthy and well-fed. It was her tea blend that the PA had made. I was supposed to drink it three times a day.

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Melena also a woman?” Charlie glanced between the two of us.

“Yes. But she’s not one of the ones coming in here, tripping over her own feet, staring at him like he’s cotton candy. I don’t get boiled bunny vibes from Melena. Some of the other ones, however.” Ruthie gave a little shiver of revulsion. “They give me the creeps.”

I frowned at my bandmate. None of the PAs revolted me, but some of them worried me. Yeah, I was uncomfortable around a few, but not enough to complain. I didn’t want them to lose their jobs, that didn’t seem fair. So what if they had a crush? They were harmless.

Although, even though I was convinced they were harmless, I’d taken steps to ensure I was never alone with any of them. Hearing Ruthie’s take on the situation did nothing to put me at ease.

Glancing at the tea longingly—because it helped, and my throat hurt, but what else was new—I removed it from the table and set the cup on the countertop behind us.

“Let’s get these signed,” I said, more of a rasp than a voice at this point. “We have that interview later this afternoon.”

Charlie made a face. “Man, Abram, you sound like shit. Come on, you’re being crazy. Just drink it.”

“We don’t—” I held up a finger, sneezed into a napkin, and then continued, “We don’t have the show until tomorrow. I’ll be fine by then, if you two do all the talking at the interview.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”

“I’m not getting sick.” I blinked, my eyes scratchy.

“You know, Leo will be there. Tomorrow,” Ruthie said conversationally. “He asked if you would be at the VIP thing after, cause’ he’s bringing all his Hollywood friends and they want to meet you.”

Scowling, I reached across the table for a pen. “I won’t be there.”

Leo and I still weren’t speaking. I didn’t know if he was aware of my relationship with Mona, and I didn’t care.

“Why’re you so pissed at him?” Ruthie asked.

I opened my mouth to answer, but instead sneezed again. When I was sure no other sneeze was on the way, I responded, “I’m not pissed.” Damn. My eyes hurt.

“I think you’re getting sick.” Charlie squirmed in his seat.

“I told you, it’s fine.” My phone buzzed in my pocket and I reached for it.

“It’s not fine. I’ll make your stupid tea,” Charlie grumbled, standing, grabbing the cup. “Where does Melena keep this shit?”

I was only partially listening, the notification on my screen capturing most of my attention.



* * *



Mona: Finished early. Let me know if you have time to talk, would love to hear about your week. Miss you.



* * *



Staring, standing, smiling, and turning from the table, I unlocked my phone to read the message again. My heart thrummed with happy nerves. This was an extremely nice surprise.

Mona and I had spoken to each other every night until she’d left for Geneva. Since, we’d texted a lot, but talking over the phone had been spotty, now down to a weekly thing mostly because of the time difference and our schedules. But that was okay. We were making it work and we were set to see each other in less than two days. I planned to leave LAX via a chartered plane directly after the concert.

The promise of uninterrupted time with Mona, in New York, for twenty-four hours felt like a luxury life raft in this pitching sea of adrenaline highs and lows. The concerts were an intense high. Which made after the concerts—with no Mona—a huge source of frustration for no one but me.

“I’ll show you where to get it,” Ruthie said behind me, probably speaking to Charlie. “We’ll be back with new non-creepy tea. And save your voice. Don’t talk to anyone while we’re gone.”

Glancing over my shoulder to watch my bandmates leave, I navigated to Mona’s number as soon as I estimated they were out of earshot. I dialed.

Two rings later, she picked up. “Hey. You’re free? How are you? How long can you talk? Did I interrupt?”