Read Rockstar Romance: Julian (Contemporary New Adult Bad Boy Rock Star Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 3) for Free Online Page A

thing, you wouldn’t believe it,” Nick said, shaking his head. “They must have hashed it out between them, I guess—two months ago you would never have seen ‘em alone in the same room, and now they play fucking Scrabble on the bus.”
    “That’s wild,” the DJ said. I barely paid attention as the rest of the interview dragged on after that; it was the same thing that it always was—even before the “partnership” with Juniper Woolf. Same boring questions, same canned laughs, same everything. I made a few more comments and told myself that we’d be at the venue soon enough, and soon enough Fran and I would get a chance to get away again.
    I didn’t think anyone knew for sure what we were doing; the guys in the band would have said something about it if they did, I was sure. Alex and Nick were too wrapped up in their own sex lives—or lack of sex lives—to think about mine, and Mark and Dan were on the hunt whenever we played a show, or stayed overnight in any city.
    “How much longer is the tour going on?”
    “Two more months,” I said, forcing myself to answer so I wouldn’t come across as too quiet or too sullen.
    “And then after that we’ll be putting together the joint EP,” Dan explained.
    “I remember that—you guys are going to work on a song together, right?”
    “One song, yeah,” Jaime said. “The rest of it’s going to be live recordings from the shows.”
    “Is there a record for Juniper Woolf in the works?” I tuned out once more, thinking about the record that Molly Riot was slated to make after all of this was done. Maybe for once I’d get a chance to push more than just one song of my own onto the record.

****
    Once again the bus was quiet; it was always weird to me, how one minute it would be buzzing with noise—conversations, people microwaving something to eat, a game going on in the rec room, or a movie blasting through the speakers—and then all at once, everyone was in their bunks. Everyone except for me. The show had gone off without a hitch; it was our best one yet—huge crowd, screaming so much they made a wall of sound and humid, sweat-drenched air all around the stage.
    Ron had called a meeting that morning, rousting us out of our beds at the ungodly hour of nine AM; at least he’d thought ahead to have coffee and donuts in the bus kitchen—he must have gotten the driver to stop somewhere before he woke us all up. He’d started out by telling us that the label was impressed with how well the tour was going, and how great a response it was getting from the fans. “Everyone at the label is pretty sure that the EP is going to sell big, and then, of course, after that your respective albums,” he’d explained.
    But there was a problem; of course there was a problem. Ron wouldn’t have gotten us up so early for a pep talk alone. We were falling off-schedule on our postings to the site. The label wanted to remind us that it was part of the deal; and if we didn’t live up to the deal, they were going to keep that in mind down the line when it came time to pay for the albums to come. “Jesus Christ, Ron,” Alex had said, nearly slamming down his coffee cup on the table. “We’re fucking musicians, not journalists.”
    “If you’d wanted someone to post updates every single damned day, you should have brought Olivia on the bus with us,” Nick told him. Normally I’d have pointed out that we had a rule about girlfriends on tour; but not only would I come off like a hypocrite when everyone eventually found out about Fran and me fooling around, but I had to agree with Nick that his girlfriend—a journalist—would’ve been the logical choice for keeping the tour journal bullshit updated. She’d done it for us before, after all.
    “It’s better if it comes from the band directly,” Ron had countered. “The fans love it—especially the videos. I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page, that’s all.”
    “We’ve been on tour for two