Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(27)

Lila opened her door and sagged against the jamb. She had on a large pair of amber sunglasses. “It’s too early for them to be so loud.”

Margo walked with her down the hallway. “I assumed they would all be dragging their way to the airport.”

“Jazz and Harper catnap like no one’s business. They’ll be out before we get off the runway. Simon probably hasn’t gone to bed yet and Gray and Nick will end up at the back of the plane with guitars and headphones or playing a video game.”

“And Deacon?”

“Deacon will herd them in and herd them out, watching over them the whole time.”

“So, you liken Deacon to a border collie?”

Lila gave a tight smile. “If the hair fits.”

Margo nodded. “Interesting group.”

“They grow on you. Mostly against your will, but they grow on you nonetheless.”

“Well, thanks for letting me on the plane with you guys. It’s better than flying coach.”

“I’ll remind you of that when Nick and Gray are arguing over lyrics and Jazz is tapping on every surface because she can’t sit still unless she’s unconscious.”

“Or making a baby,” Margo said under her breath.

Lila laughed. “Or making a baby. They are bunnies, but thankfully our social media queen is usually too busy with interviews and research or reading baby books to bounce off the walls quite as much as she once did.”

“How are you guys going to work the tour?”

Lila waved to them at the end in the elevator to go ahead. The car was full.

Simon stood in the middle of the car, his fingers wrapped around his suitcase handle in front of his crotch. His eyebrow winged up as the doors closed.

Margo swallowed down nerves and the irrational need to drag him out of the elevator and toss him off the building. He knew what he did to any woman. That cocksure attitude was as attractive as it was annoying.

“We’re splitting the tour into two legs as we usually do. The first will be abbreviated, of course. Their timing could be better—the ticket sales are amazing and the record is getting way more downloads than we thought it would. Hell, Rise got four stars from Rolling Stone.”

She rarely agreed with Rolling Stone magazine’s critics, but Margo had to concede this one. Considering the album was in her ears every time she stuck headphones in, it was a fair assessment.

“And you couldn’t get someone to fill in?”

Lila stopped and turned to her. “Have you met these people? If I dared to give them that as an option, I might get stoned.”

“Business is business.”

Lila slid her shades down her nose. “It’s nice to hear that from another person in this crazy group, but it just shows that you’re on the outside like me. No one could replace Jazz. Not even if Stuart Copeland said he’d sit in.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Margo reached for the elevator button set into the Art Deco plate. “That would be a sight, though.”

“That it would.”

They waited in companionable silence as the elevator made its way back up to them.

“I got the idea you were enjoying yourself on stage last night.”

Margo curled her fingers around her handle. “I did, yes.”

“A much different dynamic than the philharmonic.”

“It is.” Margo resisted the urge to fidget.

“You’re off for the summer?”

“The season is over,” Margo answered vaguely.

The doors opened. “So it is.” Lila walked into the elevator and didn’t say another word on the ride down.

Margo recognized the tactic. It was one that her mother used often. Dangle the carrot and get her to ask or offer up her services for whatever they were looking for.

She was tired of reaching for carrots.

If Lila wanted to ask her something, she could damn well ask her.

Margo strode off the elevator and across the lobby to where the band was gathering for the shuttle. Deacon and Harper were already down in the lobby and a carton of orange juice in Harper’s hand told her they’d actually gone down for breakfast.

She wished for coffee but followed everyone onto the huge white shuttle van that the hotel provided. There were two bucket seats at the front and three benches. Gray and Jazz took up one bench, Harper and Deacon the other.

Lila dropped into one of the bucket seats in the front, speaking to the driver about which part of the private airport they were leaving from.

Before Margo could get into the other chair, Nick took it.

Fabulous.

Simon was sprawled along the last bench seat with his arm along the top. So similar to their Town Car ride and yet so much different now.

Before they could forget that there had been skin and moans between them, now they were far too fresh.

Even if she wasn’t the one that had her flesh licked and sucked at. She lifted her chin and sat down on the far end of the bench.

“You like to be close and yet not too close, don’t you, Violin Girl?”

She stared straight ahead. She would not let him bait her. No way, no how.

He flicked the end of her braid. “Aw c’mon, Violin Girl, I’m just playing.”

“Leave her alone, Singer Boy,” Jazz said on a yawn.

Simon’s eyebrow lifted.