Royal Protection: Little Queens Duet 1 Page 4

  “Yea, okay, buddy. Writer, it is. If you say so,” .He looked me up and down, and chuckled.

  Well, okay then. I wasn’t going to admit what I was really there for, but it wouldn’t kill me to have an understanding with someone on this tour. He waved the other bus driver over, an equally middle-aged guy, with a handlebar mustache that must have had stories of its own to tell. Growing something like that takes some perseverance, that’s for sure.

  “Hey Bob, come over here!” he called.

  “What’s up, man?”

  “Meet Ryan. Ryan King. He’ll be traveling with the band this tour. He’s a writer,” Marty explained, using air quotes when he said writer‘’.

  “Oh? A writer, eh?” Bob laughed and shook my hand.

  “Yeah, I write for a magazine. I’m doing a piece on the band; covering the tour for the summer.”

  “You don’t look like any writer I’ve ever seen,” Bob said, his mustache moving up and down with each word, the wild gray hairs distracting me.

  “Well, I get that a lot,” I replied, giving them a knowing smile at our understanding.

  “I’m sure you do.” Bob nodded.

  “Ahh, here they come,” Marty smiled, nodding in the direction of a sleek black Cadillac that was pulling up.

  I knew it was her the moment the car parked. Before her beautiful and wild bright red hair was even touched by the sun, I knew. Planted in my spot, I watched as she got out of the SUV, wearing black leggings, a white tank top with a black sugar skull on it, and huge black plastic framed sunglasses.

  “Morning everyone!” Miranda called out, jogging over to give Bob and Marty hugs. Turning to me, she lifted her glasses up to the top of her head and winked before coming in for another hug I was at least mildly prepared for. “Morning, Ryan,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Morning, Miranda,” I replied. “Get a good night’s sleep?”

  “Nah, never the night before we head out. But I sleep like a rock on this thing. It’s that smooth ride Marty gives us,” .She laughed and elbowed Marty.

  “Good lord girl, don’t say things like that. People will talk,” he laughed.

  Laughing, Miranda pulled her sunglasses back down and went to check on her things that were still in the car. As the driver brought all her belongings over and piled them up next to the bus, other cars started to pull up as well.

  I watched her through my own sunglasses, taking in her charisma and relationships with everyone, and of course, her obvious beauty, when Marty nudged me. “She’s a good girl. Look after her,” he grumbled in my ear before slapping me on the shoulder and shuffling off to help load the buses up.

  I intended to take care of her; that was my job. This cover was out of the ordinary though. I felt like I was milling about, pretending not to watch, while also not being particularly helpful. So, I decided to work on blending in a bit, and went to help Miranda with her stuff. She had quite a large mountain forming alongside the bus. It must have been all the piles I’d seen at her place.

  “Can I help you with your stuff?” I offered.

  “Oh, sure! That would be great,” she flashed her pretty smile at me. “Would you take these two guitars and put them on the bus? I like to have them with me when we’re on the road. I’m gonna grab a couple other things here and I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Absolutely, no problem.” I picked up the two guitar cases, nodding at Marty on my way past him as I got on the bus.

  As I glanced around, I took in the luxury interior, impressed. “Pretty nice, right?” Miranda asked from behind me.

  “Yeah, it sure is impressive. Looks comfortable, actually,” I replied.

  She squeezed past me. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  “You don’t know?” I asked, still standing there holding the two guitar cases.

  She set down her black backpack, which was covered in patches of bands and other stuff I’d get a look at more closely later, on a recliner-type chair to the left of us. Across from that was a long, overstuffed matching beige couch. Just beyond, was a full bar and kitchenette area with a small desk. Across from it in the rear of the bus, there appeared to be a bedroom and the bathroom.

  “This is our first time having a sweet set up like this. Well, at least that’s ours,” she replied, taking one of the guitars from me, and setting it against the wall near the recliner.

  “No way, you own this?” I was impressed at her humble attitude about the whole thing. I’ve worked for some real douchebags in the past that had not only over opulent tour buses and toys; they were also the first to show you everything and tell you how much it cost.

  “We don’t own it yet; we’re leasing it. I’m not dropping that kind of money on something without giving it a spin. This is our first headlining tour, and to be totally honest, I’m pretty tight with money,” she laughed.

  “I don’t blame you. It can come and go, right?” She’s smart too. Fuck me.

  “It sure can,” she replied. “Here, I’ll take the other one, I’m just going to put them over here for now, until we figure out exactly how this will all work. We have hotel rooms at most of the cities I believe, but sometimes things change, or we switch up or whatever, depending on what we feel like doing. Carmen likes to sleep when we drive and I do a lot as well, so I’m just going to settle in here for now and see how it goes. There’s only one bed in the back of this bus, but there are bunks on the other bus. They have a bar and couches and stuff too, so you can ride along with us or them; whatever you want.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure the deal is that I’m supposed to be with you, right?”

  Letting out a slight laugh, she replied, “Yes, I do believe you are. So, make yourself at home, Ryan, because this is home base for the next three months. Today we go to St. Louis. We're all going to ride this bus so we can have a little meeting and just make sure everyone’s all good. We have our opening acts joining us at the first venue, then they’re responsible for their own travel to the shows.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll stay out of the way, you know, just observing,” I grinned. “Three months sounds like a long time, but I bet it goes by really fast.”

  “Honestly, it goes by in a flash in the beginning, but toward the end, we’re all so tired we can’t remember where the hell we are,” .She giggled. “I have the stage manager remind me before we go out on stage because I don’t want to mess it up when I talk to the crowd.” She stopped herself and tilted her head at me, scrunching her nose. “That doesn’t go in the article.”

  Laughing, I replied, “Your secret is safe with me. Honestly, I’m pretty sure everyone has to be reminded where they are on a tour.”

  “Well, just in case they don’t,” .She eyed me critically.

  “I promise.” I put three fingers up, the scout’s honor hand gesture.

  “Okay good. Now where is your stuff?” she asked me, returning to her friendly, non-skeptical self.

  “I have a duffle outside with the other luggage,” I replied.

  “That’s it?” She seemed shocked at my lack of suitcases.

  “I have a backpack too, with my computer and shit, but that’s all I need,” I replied, bemused by her facial expression. “I don’t have to get all dressed up every day like you do.”

  “Hmm, well that’s a good point.”

  Carmen hopped onto the bus at that moment, startling both of us. “Who’s ready for ST. LOUIS, BITCHESSSS?” Her blonde, highlighted brown hair was piled on top of her head into a messy bun, and her eyes were covered with equally huge sunglasses, like Miranda’s.

  Laughing, Miranda greeted her sister. “Morning, sunshine, how are we feeling today?”

  “We are feeling like a fucking nap on the road is how we’re feeling. How are you today, sister?” Then she turned her attention to me, lifting her glasses to the top of her head. “Well hello, writer. How are you today?” she asked flirtatiously.

  “I’m good, Carmen, nice to see you.”

  “And it
is nice to see you,” she said sultrily.

  Extremely uncomfortable with her flirty demeanor, I shifted in place before heading out of the bus to get my backpack and peruse the area a bit. “I’m going to go get my bag and see if anyone needs help with anything,” I said as I left.

  When I reached the bottom step, I could hear Miranda say something inaudible to Carmen but I paused as I heard Carmen reply, “don’t worry, sister, I’m not going to go after your man. I’m just fucking with him, relax.”

  Ah, if only, Miranda. I sighed and shook my head, attempting to turn my thoughts from what she’d taste like underneath me. She didn’t make doing my job more difficult; I was doing a good enough job of that on my own. My physical attraction to her was strong, and there was something about her, something different that I couldn’t put my finger on. Whatever it was, she’d gotten in my head somehow. She wasn’t flirting with me; she was just sweet and kind. And ridiculously attractive without any pomp and circumstance to her. As I walked to the group of guys which made up the band, the bus drivers, and Mr. Royal, who came for the sendoff, I decided that getting to know her was actually part of my job. Even if that made me want her more, I was going to protect her from danger, regardless of what my dick thought.

  Man, that Ryan is wicked hot. And my sister giving me shit about him isn’t helping. I felt my cheeks get warm from irritation when she started flirting with him, mostly because I knew she wasn’t even into him. Good Lord, all I could think was that I was going need to quell that attraction somehow. I tried reminding myself that he’s a professional, he’s there for our career; to document the tour. But those muscular tattooed arms of his were so enticing, and all I could think about was them pinning me against a wall. Distracted by my own lustful thoughts, I didn’t even hear my sister still talking.

  “Hello? Sister!” she yelled.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, sheesh.” I snapped back to reality.

  “You like him, don’t you?” she demanded.

  “What? No. Of course not. Well, I mean, I like him as a person. He seems nice.” I stumbled over my words, knowing she would pounce on my newfound weakness.

  “Uh, uh, uh, yeah. You like him,” .She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow as she mocked me.

  “Shut up. It’s just business. He seems nice,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, nice looking,” she replied sarcastically. “You are allowed to get some dick, you know. You don’t have to get so salty about the whole thing.”

  Always blunt, and often crass, she called me on my shit like always. “There’s nothing going on there, end of subject. And even if I wanted to, he’s here to write about us. I don’t need that shit ending up in the press. I don’t want to end up like –” I hesitated, realizing I was about to stir the pot without even thinking.

  “End up like what, Miranda? Like me?” she yelled, the hurt apparent in her voice.

  “I didn’t say that,” I tried to recover.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to. I know what you were going to say. What I do in my personal life is my business. I’m not going to have this argument with you for the hundredth time, Miranda!” Her anger was evident, as she clenched her fists, her face red. I didn’t mean to upset her, but her shenanigans had gotten us some bad press in the past because she didn’t give a fuck about other people’s opinions. I was always cool with that, and completely supportive… until it came to us potentially damaging our careers.

  “Relax, Carmen, I’m not making this about anything else. I’m just saying that I’m not going to get involved with someone who’s basically part of the tour now, okay?” I was trying to untangle the ball of indignation she’d become.

  “I don’t need your shit before we even get on the road Miranda, seriously." She had relaxed her stance and her shoulders were less tense, but she was still on the defensive.

  “I get it, Carmen. I’m sorry. I’m just saying that there’s nothing going on with the writer, and I’m committed to letting him follow me around so we can get good PR out of this, all right? Nothing else,” I stated.

  “Okay. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat, .You know I love you,” .She grinned at me.

  “Well duh, I’m your sister. You have to.” I poked her in the shoulder, causing her to giggle.

  “Yeah, stupid genetics,” she laughed.

  “Oh yeah? Did someone say genetics? Here I am,” .Our dad climbed on board at that moment.

  “Hey Dad!” Carmen flipped around to greet him.

  “Hey, princess,” he smiled, opening his arms for a hug.

  “Now you know…” I started to say, before he interrupted me.

  “Yes, yes, I know. My little queens.” I walked over for a hug as well. We were so lucky to have our father as our manager. As often as he’d make decisions -like the writer -on our behalf, he always made good decisions, .We had full access to our money, and he’d put things in place so that we were protected financially from the get-go. He truly did have our best interests at heart, and we were lucky for that. So many bands had shitty representation, or they signed with people who didn’t know what they were doing and they ended up being taken advantage of. That was never a concern for us.

  “That’s right,” I smiled.

  “How are my girls? You ready for your first headlining tour, or what? This is the big time, milady’s.” He beamed, making me blush.

  “I’m so excited,” I replied.

  “Me too, Dad. This is fucking incredible,” Carmen gushed.

  Laughing at her profanity, which was a family trait, he replied, “It is pretty fucking incredible, but you also earned it. So, make sure you act like it, you got me?” He turned "Dad" on us pretty fast.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going to behave, I promise,” Carmen said begrudgingly.

  “What were you two arguing about then?” he asked, knowing he’d walked into something.

  Carmen and I locked eyes; neither of us wanted to be reprimanded by our father, so we squashed our debate immediately. Even though we were thirty-two and thirty, respectively, we became five and three in an instant when my dad made that face at us. He knew we were squabbling about something, and he wasn’t having it.

  “Nothing, Dad, everything’s cool,” Carmen said.

  I raised my hand, as if swearing in. “I promise, she’s telling the truth. Everything is fine. We’re super ready for this.” Part of me was unsure we were really ready at all, but we were going for it anyway.

  Looking at me knowingly, he said, “I know you’re nervous, and that’s good. Just channel it and rock the fuck out, baby.” He smiled, knowing that would make me laugh, which it did. We seriously had the coolest dad ever, and there was no denying that.

  “You got it daddio,” I giggled.

  “Alright, so you two have met Ryan, and had a chance to talk to him. We’re all good here, right?” he asked, changing the subject to business.

  “Yeah, Miranda spent some time with him last night,” Carmen smirked.

  “Not like that Dad,” I shot her the ‘fuck you’ sneer.

  “Uh huh, well, he’s here to spend time with you, so you need to include him in everything. And I mean everything. I want him with you at all times,” he practically demanded.

  “Yeah ok dad. Fine. What’s the big deal?” Carmen asked.

  “The big deal is that it’s a unique opportunity for a true behind the scenes look at an up and coming band’s first headlining tour. That hasn’t been done. And you-” he turned to me again, taking me by surprise. “I’m serious. I want him with you all the time, you got me?”

  “Why me? I’m not the only one in the band.” I didn’t love the idea of having Mr. Hottie McHotness writer distracting me all the time.

  “Because I said so,” .He pointed at me.

  “That is a shit answer Dad,” I replied earnestly. Meanwhile, Carmen couldn’t keep her laughter in any longer.

  “I know why,” she said, bemused. Having my full attention, she continued, “Dad thinks I’m a wildcar
d. The writer has to be your shadow so he doesn’t write about my shenanigans. You’re the good one,” .She laughed, knowing that meant the expectation was that I’d always behave, which irritated me. Not that I had planned to get in trouble, per se, but that wasn’t the point at all.

  “What the fuck?” I groaned.

  “Oh please, you two, stop with the theatrics. Save it for the stage,” .Dad rolled his eyes at us both. “Miranda, no one is saying you can’t be you, and that you can’t have any fun on the tour. I’m not an idiot; I raised you both. But Carmen is sort of right. Ryan should spend the most time with you, and frankly, you are the one that has the patience for this sort of thing. Let’s be real.”

  I knew he was right. We all knew he was right. But that didn’t mean I liked it, and I hated the notion that I was such a good girl that I had to babysit someone on the tour because of it.

  I sighed, giving in to them both. “Yeah, whatever you two. I’m not babysitting anyone, so let’s get that straight right now. I’ll let him hang with me and whatever, but when I want my own time, I’m taking my own time. That’s how it’s gonna be.” I shifted my eyes back and forth between them, awaiting their argument as they shared a smile, fueling my irritation.

  “Seems reasonable,” Carmen looked to Dad for reassurance.

  “No one says you have to babysit. I’m just saying I’d like for you to be the one he spends the most time with, that’s all. This is good for you guys. It’s a long tour, he’s a good guy, and I had him checked out. He’s not going to be a pain in your ass, I promise." He stepped forward and opened his arms for another hug.

  Returning his hug, I just replied, “Okay.”

  “Alright girls, your mom is outside, so let’s have some hugs and a little rah-rah, because this is a big fucking deal! Get excited, ladies!” he exclaimed, causing both Carmen and I to laugh again.

  “Ok daddy, we’re excited, I promise.” I gave him another squeeze.

  As we walked outside, I noticed everyone had arrived, and my mom was talking to Ryan, who although had on sunglasses again, I could feel watching us climb off the bus. I was taking one for the team, but at the same time, I was also looking forward to getting to know the writer. Something about him screamed something particularly non-writer to me, like he had secrets he was holding onto, and I was going to enjoy finding out what that was.