Meeting The Master // Greta Van Fleet

I haven't even rolled out of bed before grabbing my phone and sending a text to Colleen. Lying on my back, my head pressed against the pillow, I send a simple greeting.

Me: Morning. Hope your day is full of surprises.

I smile to myself, picturing Colleen seeing my text and shaking her head. I probably wouldn't be texting her if she hadn't thrown down the challenge. Telling me I can't do something is my catnip, an invitation to prove you wrong. I threw out the idea of a good morning text without fully meaning it. But Colleen's dismissive shake of her head flipped the switch. Now I'm all in with this plan.

Colleen: not much surprises me anymore except for the fact you now text me every morning.

I laugh at her reply, letting her know I'll call her later. I have the evening open for the first time in a few days.

I slide out of bed—the stupid bunk on the bus that hardly contains my 6'5" length—and stretch in the aisle. I dropped Colleen and Katie at the airport yesterday afternoon then headed directly to the tour buses to board and prep for the next segment of venue stops, none for more than a night over the upcoming weeks. Part of me thinks Brianna is pushing herself too hard trying to make up for the last tour. She'd pulled back some dates due to her stalker issues then sporadically made them up once we'd settled all of that. So, when Char started scheduling out this tour, Brianna made it clear she wanted to push through, not making fans wait as long as they had last time.

I admire her determination but it's making my job even more difficult.

Pulling a t-shirt over my head though not bothering to change out of my pajama pants yet, I head into the galley of the bus for coffee. As head of security, I ride on Brianna's bus. Thank fuck for that because if I had to ride either of the other buses it would end with someone on my shit list. The C1 guys are basically frustrated college dropouts, partying every chance they get. Of course, their version of partying is tame compared to most rock bands, but it would still irritate the fuck out of me. Plus, they're pigs. Their bus looks like a stye and smells even worse by the end of the tour.

The roadie bus, on the other hand, is a fucking hierarchy of assholes. I've got my eye on half of them because they're already acting like fools. Randy, the leader of the boneheads, has a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. The fact that Zack encouraged his best friend, Jacob, to work as a roadie while also forcing him to ride that bus blows my mind. I wouldn't touch those guys with a ten-foot pole. And not because I think less of them. It's because I know them too well. My time overseas, living in barracks, taught me more than I need to know about the way a group like that operates. The difference is, I trusted my battalion with my life. These roadies? Not so much.

I finish pouring my coffee as my phone buzzes with a text. Smiling before I even check Colleen's text, I gulp down a mouthful and reach for my phone. However, I'm not smiling when I see the message sent from my brother, Frank, not Colleen.

Frank: He's on the move. Call me when you get a chance.

I haven't heard much from my brother since I visited him before the tour left. I'd asked him to keep tabs on Colleen's ex-boyfriend, Ross. Hearing that he's moving locations is one thing. But the fact that Frank wants me to call has my blood rushing. It can't be good.

Not wanting to broadcast whatever the situation is with this piece of shit, I grab my clothes, dress quickly and move up to the front of the still moving bus. I wish we were stopped so I could take a walk, but our bus driver with an NDA will have to do. Alan is a good guy. He'll keep his mouth shut if he gets wind of anything I'm saying.

"Hey," I say as I approach the front. Alan nods his head without removing his eyes from the road.

"What's happening Mr. Wilson?"

"I've told you to call me Clinton."

"Not as long as I take orders from you, sir."

I rub my free hand over my face. "Seriously, don't call me sir." I'm not that fucking old. Alan chuckles at my demand.

"Whatever you say."

I slide into the captain's chair on the passenger side of the bus. "I have to make a call that I don't need ears on."

"My ears are closed." Alan chokes down the 'sir' I know was sitting on his tongue.

"I'm not worried about your ears. You, I trust." I thumb to the back of the bus. "Zack will overreact and he's not on my to-do list for the day."

"Understood."

No small talk. This is why I like Alan.

I pull up Frank's number and hit call. He answers on the third ring.

"That was quick. I didn't expect you to call back for a while," he says.

"You tell me Ross is mobile and to call you and think I'm sitting on that without digging for more?" I wince at my lack of patience in my voice, but his news has me on edge.

"Ah. Understood." His tone turns knowing and I sigh.

"Just tell me, man." I can't act without knowledge. And I'm unsettled with the need to act on the situation.

"Last night my contact in Silver Valley informed me that Ross was involved in an incident at the Grab N' Go grocery store."

"What kind of incident? Assault?"

"No. A verbal spat with another customer. A Miss..." Frank mumbles something as papers rustle on the other end of the call. "Deana Marin. Hmm." Silence fills the other end of the line for a few seconds. "I think she's Zack's sister. He's from Silver Valley, isn't he?"

"Yup. So much for keeping Zack from overreacting." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

More humming from Frank. "Apparently, he was propositioning her, and she answered him with a knee to the groin. The store manager called authorities."

"Was he detained?" I ask with clenched fists.

"Questioned but not taken in. He left town six hours later. His debit card pinged early this morning in Salt Creek. He's staying in a roadside motel. No other sightings as of this moment."

This isn't the usual law enforcement protocol. I never tracked small time criminals like Ross when I was a cop. But Frank's willing to do me this favor and I'm not about to call off his dogs. I pull in a deep breath before blowing it out. "Why Salt Creek?" The small four seasons resort town where Brianna kicked off her tour isn't where I expected someone to run off to after a run in with the law. Is he on vacation? "Seems odd."

"It's up over the ridge from Silver Valley. My guess is it's just a stop on his route."

"Route where?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Thanks brother." We end the call with one thought clear in my mind. No fucking way I'm letting that asshole go on a road trip ending anywhere near Colleen.

***

The next few days look and feel like groundhog day on repeat.

Sleep on the bus while it's moving.

Secure the venue getting Brianna in and out seamlessly.

Jump back on the bus after the show to move to the next one.

It's a grind, and I'm not even the one performing. I'm not sure how Brianna keeps herself going at this pace. And I know it isn't drugs, like half the pop stars do to have enough energy to perform at this level. Brianna would never. Zack makes sure that she eats as healthy as possible. Or, as healthy as she'll let him. He's an extreme health nut. I could never eat as clean as he does.

Another week of this pace and then we have a few days to slowdown. I fucking need the break, although I'll never let on that I do. However, it can't come sooner. I hate the bus. I hate the close quarters and the lack of breathing room. I suck it up. I'm a pro at keeping it all under control. A skill the military beat into me early on and it's come in handy ever since. Although, it may have been a factor in my divorce.

I should probably examine that at some point.

By some fucked up twist of fate, I find myself trapped on the Citizen One bus on the road to the next city. I stepped on to check with The Kid, Javier, who I'd assigned as their main security guy. The guy I originally assigned has some skill sets I needed elsewhere. The busses pulled away before I'd had a chance to debrief with The Kid and now here I am.

"Yo, Clinton, take Alex's cards. He's taking too long in the bathroom and I'm sick of waiting." Ryan pelts me with a peanut as I'm passing by.

"Not a chance." I keep walking.

"I'm not asking you to play. I'm asking you to toss Alex's card in the pile while he takes a shit."

"TMI," Jace says, shaking his head. He looks a little green, to be honest, but at this point its par for the course. He always looks like he might puke recently.

"Dude, you good?" I say, hand on his shoulder. "What's up with you lately? You need a doctor?"

"Back off, I'm fine." He grumbles before shrinking lower in his seat around the dinette table.

Must be motion sickness. Gets most of us at some point on these tours. I look down at the table, Alex's hand lying face down in front of me. He only has a couple of cards left. I might as well play his turn for this round otherwise Ryan will be up my ass until this bus stops in four hours.

Four long fucking hours.

"Fine. Just one turn, though. I've still got business with Javier." I don't use his nickname with the band. They don't need any more ammunition to fuck with my guys than they already have.

"Javier is sleeping, man. Has been since he stepped on board. You must be working the guy to the bone."

I roll my eyes. I'm not surprised he's sleeping. I expected it. When we're on the bus is pretty much the only time we can let our guard down enough to get a deep sleep since our charges are secured. It's when the bus stops that the real job begins.

"I'll let him get some more beauty sleep while I throw cards at you." I take the spot next to Jace and grab Alex's deck.

We each toss some cards down for a round, still no sign of Alex, so the game continues with me as his stunt double. Ryan eventually leans back in his seat and gives me his I'm-about-to-fuck-with-you look.

Perfect.

"Talked to Colleen lately?"

I nod. "Yup." That's all he's getting out of me.

"Today?"

"Yup." We texted this morning, so not technically talking but still served the purpose. I plan to call her later.

My calls with Colleen have helped with the pressure this job brings, especially on the road. I can't talk to her every night but most nights we can find time to have a conversation. I haven't mentioned my surveillance on her ex-Rosshole. Calling her as often as I can is one way I keep tabs on the situation. As long as she sounds bright and bubbly, I feel better.

"You got that locked down, yet?" Ryan asks. Seth coughs. Jace groans.

I glare. "Don't hold back." I lean closer, crossing my forearms on the table and knocking the cards everywhere.

Ryan throws his head back. "You are so easy. Did you hear nothing I told you the other night?"

"Are you still playing out a dare?" I glance at the other two culprits at the table.

"You told him?" Seth throws his cards down. "Defeats the entire purpose of the dare, man."

Ryan tosses a hand in my direction. "Did you not just hear his reaction? It's still serving its purpose."

"Nope. The dare was for the duration of the tour. You're busted. I need to confer with the guys for an appropriate punishment."

"I'm not streaking the stage again. Last time I almost got arrested."

"Give me a little more credit, dude. We're way past streaking."

I rub my hand over my face as they continue the back and forth over punishment. No wonder The Kid is passed out cold. I'd sleep too if I had to put up with these guys all day. I owe him a raise.

"It's been real, ladies. But I've got a protocol to debrief."

"Don't forget a girl to have questionable phone sex with." Ryan points at me as I walk past him.

"What the hell is questionable phone sex?" Alex asks as he finally emerges from the bathroom. "It's all a little sketchy isn't it?"

"Spoken like a man going through a dry spell." Ryan laughs. "It's questionable that it's even happening. Or any good.

I don't respond. I just keep walking. But I can't help the thought running through my head at Ryan's accusation.

It would be fucking amazing.

And now Clinton is thinking about hot phone sex, lol! I wonder what might happen on his next call to Colleen??? HAHA! I love torturing him. AND did you forget about Rosshole? Clinton didn't and now he's all twisted up about what that guy's up to.

I picked Meeting the Master because it's a nice nod to both Ryan and Clinton jawing for position as top dog. Let's face it, Clinton would absolutely win that battle.

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Thank you, thank you for reading!! There's more to come!