Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(28)

“See, how’s it feel to be called your instrument?”

“Terms of endearment, Pink Penis Eater.”

“Can you punch him, G? Just once. I promise I won’t ask again.” Jazz waited a beat. “Today.”

Gray sighed. “Don’t make me bruise my knuckles so early in the day, Simon.”

“Man, it’s gang up on Simon day.”

“Deserve it,” Jazz said with a hand flourish over her head.

Twenty minutes into the drive, Margo started to relax. Simon looked out the window but didn’t interrupt or engage with the rest of the band while they halfheartedly teased one another.

It was early even by Margo’s standards. By the time they pulled onto one of the exchanges toward the airport, the van was quiet. They all shuffled off, grabbing their suitcases from the side storage.

A young guy not much older than Jazz was loading the undercarriage of the plane with their gear and everyone left their suitcases to him.

Just before the cargo person took her suitcase, she rescued her violin case.

“Not good enough to go in with our gear?” Simon tucked the tips of his fingers into the tight black jeans he was wearing.

“It doesn’t leave my side.” Margo knew she was being a little territorial, but her instrument was an extension of her. She never let anyone handle her Starfish.

Ever.

She climbed the stairs after Gray helped Jazz inside. Definitely not a prop jet. This was plush and worth a few million in her estimation. Gray and burgundy leather stretched across couches and captain chairs. The back of the plane was transformed into a bar with a large television, with game consoles discreetly tucked under the speakers.

Everything a man could want. And incongruous to what she thought Donovan Lewis would be about. The television, yes—he probably watched the stock market like crazy.

But the games?

Was that just for the boys? Because the men of Oblivion were definitely more boy than man. In some ways they were hardened with life, but in others they were still very much guys in their twenties.

Nick and Simon made a beeline for the back of the plane and had the television on before their onboard bags were stowed. They just dumped them into what had probably become their space after a few flights.

Simon on the couch, Nick in the captain’s chair.

That was interesting in itself. Nick seemed to need a space all of his own. She’d noticed it on a few different instances now. He very much liked to be a part of the group and in the center of it.

“You watch them like a science experiment.”

Margo jumped. “I...”

“It’s okay. It’s how I was when I first started managing them.”

“How did that happen, anyway? Don’t you work for Donovan Lewis? Not the band.”

“We like to cultivate our clients. These guys need a little more hands-on than Donovan was comfortable with.”

Margo tipped her head. “You went to bat for them.”

Lila’s face smoothed into an expression that didn’t give one iota away. “I did what the company needed.”

Hmm.

Margo wasn’t entirely convinced. And part of her liked Lila all the more for it. It wasn’t often that she met a woman that she could identify with.

Before Lila could back up, Margo touched her arm. “It’s good they have you to look out for them.”

Lila looked away and lifted her chin. “Ready to go?”

The band had gotten themselves situated. The pregnant women were set up in reclining chairs with blankets over them. Harper was already half asleep. Deacon was reading on his tablet and Gray was fussing over Jazz.

The pilot advised them that they would be leaving in ten minutes. Tired didn’t seem to be a strong enough word for how Margo was feeling, but she was too wound up to settle.

Again, this was completely the opposite of how she normally was. Travel and killing time was a large part of her life. She was good at traveling.

Determined to settle down, she tucked herself into the corner of one of the couches. With the ledge behind her, she tucked her case into the small space and took out her phone and headphones. It seemed wrong to listen to her music of choice when they were right across from her.

But part of her problem was that she hadn’t indulged in her rituals. She rolled her sweater into a ball under her head, put her headphones in, and started the album from the beginning.





7





Simon rolled to his feet. Three hours of zombies was enough. He’d gotten most of his aggressions out on the murder and mayhem that video games provided.

Gray and Nick were in it for the long haul. He guzzled one of the half dozen bottles of water that Lila had stashed on the plane for them. Hydrating was a new thing. He was used to either hungover or drunk, with not much in between.

This album was much more taxing on his vocals so he had to actually remember to take care of himself. The last song of the night last night reminded him of that.

“Kashmir” was tough for anyone, even Plant, to sing. He’d felt the crack during the last verse and had pulled his mic away before it had gone out to the speakers and to the people.

He’d rather look like he forgot the lyric than his voice couldn’t hack the song.

He finished the one bottle and immediately opened another. Which of course made him realize he’d been sitting too long. He made his way to the front of the plane for the bathrooms.