Try Me

Chapter 2

Gabe climbed out from behind his drum kit, both thighs weary with fatigue. He stretched his aching back, wincing as he twisted to one side. Thirty years young and he could safely say he was getting too old for this shit. Jack tossed him a hand towel, and Gabe wiped the sweat off his face.

“Great show, man,” Jack said. He took the towel and offered Gabe a handful of used drumsticks to throw into the audience.

“Thanks.”

Gabe joined his band mates at the front of the stage. He flung a dozen sticks into the crowd, took a bow to the screaming fans, and made a beeline for the dressing room. He needed a beer, a nap, and a shower, not necessarily in that order.

“Don’t forget we have an after-party tonight,” Owen said as he handed off his bass guitar to one roadie while another disconnected his wireless transmitter.

Gabe had forgotten about the after-party. That meant the first thing on his agenda had to be a shower. No one wanted to smell him after he’d been swimming in his own sweat for an hour. And maybe if a hot piece of ass caught his attention at the party, he’d add get laid to his list of priorities.

“See you there,” Gabe said and headed for the dressing room to shower.

The steamy water felt like heaven against his weary flesh. He considered blowing the party and just hanging out in the shower by himself for the entire night. His bunk on the tour bus sang a siren’s song to his exhausted body. Gabe was proud to be known as one of rock’s fastest drummers, but his signature aggressive style wore his ass out at every live performance. Still, he knew the guys would give him hell if he didn’t make an appearance at the party, so he’d show his face for five minutes, have a beer, and then catch that nap. Alone. He was much too exhausted to chase pussy tonight.

He found his bag among the pile of the band’s overnight luggage and tossed on a pair of well-worn jeans, a T-shirt, and his favorite boots. He didn’t bother spiking his still wet hair as he planned to go to bed soon, so he tugged on a baseball cap and headed to the conference room at the end of the hall. The room was packed wall-to-wall with guests.

Gabe headed for the bar. One beer. That was all he needed to unwind, and then he could disappear. He made a concerted effort to greet everyone who recognized him. Shake hands. Pause for a photo. Smile and bullshit. Sign an autograph. Laugh at a joke. Accept praise. Enjoy the excitement. Seek out the familiar faces of his band mates in a sea of strangers and exchange a nod of recognition. Finally, he reached the bar.

“Corona?” Jordan asked.

He knew damned well that’s what Gabe wanted. He’d been with the crew all summer.

“Yeah.”

Jordan disappeared beneath the bar and emerged with a bottle. He popped the cap and handed it to Gabe, who took a long swallow. It went down smooth. Good stuff.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his gaze on the sweet piece of ass beside him at the bar. Long, brown curls fell to the middle of her back, and her jeans clung to her curvy backside in a most distracting fashion. High-heeled sandals accentuated her long legs, which would look perfect wrapped around his hips. If the front of her looked half as spectacular as the back, he was definitely interested in hanging around a while longer. He wasn’t that exhausted.