Ceilings // Lizzy McAlpine

I wake up to silence, sweet silence because Randy's already up and gone. There's something about that guy that gets under my skin. Thankfully this is our last morning in this hotel, our last break for a week or so. It's back to the venue this afternoon for tonight's closing show then packing up for the next stop.

I can handle Randy on the bus when there are six other guys to keep his focus off me. But he's made some insinuating remarks when I've come back in from spending time with Char. Remarks that make me feel a little violent. Just thinking about his smug tone asking if I'd gotten some and how wet the pussy was makes me feel a little murdery.

I throw the covers back, pissed that even in his absence Randy has put me in a mood. I opened my eyes to memories of kissing the hell out of Char last night and it bites that the bliss is already burned off. I need some bean juice, aka coffee. Brianna calls it anti-murder juice. Appropriate. Maybe I can take some to Char again and sneak in another kiss.

With a better plan in place than bludgeoning Randy, I grab shorts and a t-shirt, throw on my Vans and shove my wallet in my pocket. After I push the button for the elevator, I rub my hands together. I'm anxious. Excited. Fucking hopeful.

Haven't felt this light in a long time. Aside from my initial desire to club Randy, I'm in a great mood. And it's all Char. The woman has me in the palm of her hand and doesn't even know it.

I hop out of the elevator and find a long fucking line for the coffee shop. Shit. Looks like there's only the one kid working again this morning. It's fine. I have time. I can wait in line and calm my racing heart so when I take it to Char I'm not acting like a puppy. I remember her calling me a golden retriever and laugh to myself. A strong pat on my shoulder as I shake with stifled laughter startles me.

"Look at him," Randy says on my right, hand still clasped onto my shoulder. "Someone got tail last night."

"That makes two of us," John says on my left.

I bite back the fuck you that's on the tip of my tongue. What the fuck is wrong with these guys? They're like frat boys that never left the frat. All musty with mold and mildew.

"Back off." My words come out quiet, but my sharp tone is unmistakable.

"Oh, man. Struck a nerve." John covers his mouth, hiding the mocking laugh. Something darker emanates from Randy. Not sure what, but I don't like it.

"I think this one's spent too much time as the class pet. Time with the talent will make you smug."

I stiffen at Randy's words, something Zack tried to warn me about. I'm a fucking idiot.

A few more guys gather around us, all roadies but the rest don't give me the dark looks Randy and John are throwing my way.

"Is he here, yet?" John asks one of the other guys.

"Heading down. Got in late last night."

I want to ask who they're talking about but not after the exchange I just had with the ring leaders. Instead I continue scrolling the news feed I pulled up on my phone when I couldn't shake them off.

"He can join us." Randy squeezes my shoulder. "Jacob here is buying."

Fuck. I'm not in a position to argue so I keep my mouth shut even though I have no intention of treating everyone. I'm in the dog house with these guys for interacting with Citizen One as much as I have.

The guys around me start talking about the day ahead, the time off we just had and how long until our next break. Ten minutes of this crap goes by while the line inches forward. We're a couple of customers from the front when everyone's attention shifts. Whoever they've been waiting for shows up. I keep my head down on my phone as they great the new guy.

"Been a while, man. Good to see you again," Randy says. I don't look up, but I can tell Randy's waiting for me to do just that. He nudged me 'accidentally' a couple of times while speaking.

"Yeah, too long if you ask me. Lawyers are a pain in my ass. Finally got one to do his fucking job and get shit done."

"Damn straight," John says. The other guys around murmur their support.

I'm stuck on one word: lawyer. I feel the sheen of sweat build up on my back as anger burns through me. I have a bad fucking feeling about this. Slowly, I lift my eyes to face this new guy. When I look at him straight on, my blood runs cold. He's got dark glasses and a full beard, but I'd know him anywhere.

Curt Wainwright, former drummer for Citizen One and current persona non grata from what I've gathered. He's been embroiled in a lawsuit with the C1 guys for a year. I know he did something fucked up to Char if her brother beat the shit out of him on stage to defend her honor. I was already feeling murderous but now I'm feeling serial. As in, if I don't get the fuck away from these guys, I might be committing a string of homicides. I'm not a violent guy, usually.

I'm glaring at Curt who isn't giving me the time of day. Why would he? The guy has no clue who I am or that I might have beef with him. The way Randy's gripping my shoulder to keep me rooted in place next to him tells me he does have a clue. Is this some kind of sick payback because I hung out on the talent bus? What the actual fuck? What grown ass man does this?

I key into something Curt's saying and I realize they're all cut from the same cloth.

"The old lady'll be plenty surprised when I knock on her door in a couple minutes. Anyone track down her room number."

"619," Randy says.

That's when the storm hits full force.

"What?" I say hearing Char's room number. The first words I've uttered the entire time. Every eye turns to look at me. My eyes are on Curt's as he takes me in. I know the tornado inside of me is reflected in my face. I've schooled it as much as I can, using every method acting technique I know. I can't afford to let these guys know how I feel about Char. I realize that now. But the way Curt is eyeing me I can tell I'm doing a shit job of it.

"Got something you want to say to me?" Curt asks, the dark tone Randy's used all morning now emanating from him as well.

I narrow my gaze instead of answering him. With Randy's hand still on me, I rip my shoulder forward to pull away from him. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I step into Curt's space.

"Nothing that your former bandmates haven't probably already said a million times. If you don't listen to them, you're not going to listen to me."

I watch as my words land, perfectly timed for my exit. I step out of the circle of goons to find Char standing at the elevator, mouth gaping as she looks on to the entire thing. Her dark gaze is aimed behind me, right where Curt is still standing. She takes a step toward him, fuming, just as I reach her.

"No. Don't." I tell her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her with me into the open elevator. She hesitates against me for a split second before acquiescing. I jam my finger on the button for the fifth floor. The doors slide shut. Char continues to fume silently on the ride up. When the doors open, I take her by the arm and guide her down the hallway.

"Didn't think I'd be making the long walk again so soon," I say. I didn't even get my coffee. But that's the least of my worries now.

We make it to my hotel room. Knowing Randy is occupied downstairs with Curt, I swipe the key card and usher Char into the room.

"Smells like feet," she mutters.

"Randy's feet, not mine."

"I need to pack."

We all have to pack. Today's the day we reload the busses as soon as tonight's show is through.

"Not yet. Curt's planning to go to your room."

"I need to leave."

"We're all leaving."

Char rolls her eyes as she walks over to the window, throwing the curtains open and gazing five floors below.

"I'm a sitting duck on this tour now. Curt's already found us. I don't need the drama he'll bring. Brianna doesn't need it. She's got enough PTSD from his bullshit last year. She doesn't need more."

"Brianna? I thought your brother was defending your honor, not Brianna's."

Char groans. "I don't want to get into this.

"Talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

"I didn't ask for your help." Her voice is calm, even. But I sense the dread underlying everything she's saying.

"You never have to ask. I want to help. Talk to me." I plead.

"I can't."

"You mean you won't."

She finally turns to look at me where I'm standing a few feet from her. But the look of affection I was hoping for isn't on her face. Instead I see exasperation.

"No. I mean I can't. Why would I? Nothing between us is real, Jake."

Ah. "So, we're back to Jake. I really thought we'd settled all that last night." I step closer to her. I feel her breath on my face, wishing we weren't standing in my disgusting hotel room that does indeed smell like feet.

"Isn't it real?" I reach out to push a lock of hair away from her face, allowing my fingers to run down the tendril before tucking it behind her ear. I touch her chin then run my fingers along her neck, her collar. My thumb continues to trace the line of her jaw as my eyes never break contact with her.

I lean in, closer, waiting for her to push me away, willing her not to.

But Char doesn't move. Her eyes don't even flutter as I let my lips press against hers.

"I'm married," she whispers just as I kiss her.

I pull back, waiting for the punch line. "What?"

"To Curt."

Now it's my jaw that's gaping.

"How? When?" I can't finish a thought. This was nowhere on my radar of what had gone down between her and that asshole. She's married? Married? To him?

Fuck no.

I want to listen. I want to understand and support her. But married to Curt is a blow I didn't see coming.

The door handle rattles as someone starts to come into the room. Char's eyes close. I turn to see Randy saunter in, smirking at us. I look back to Char realizing how close we are. I have no idea what this means for whatever the hell is going on between her and Curt but I sure as hell know I don't want her to have more trouble. I step away, not taking her by the hand the way I wish I could.

"Char has a meeting with Brianna," I say, knowing it's a lie. But she doesn't protest when I lead her out of the room, putting myself between her and Randy as my fingers rest on the small of her back to guide her away. She says nothing as we head back to the lobby to catch the private elevator. Char, of course, has access and doesn't think twice about swiping me up. Another long ride to the top of the hotel in silence. I have a feeling the silence is about to end. The secrets Char's been keeping close to her chest are going to be said out loud.

I hope I'm man enough to handle whatever it is.

Shocked? Or no... either way, there's more to this story so hang on til next week! Plus, gah Jacob is starting to be so growly for a cinnamon roll golden retriever. Love me a growly protective sweetheart! Heart eyes!!

Ceilings has the vibe because that last part: But its not real, and you don't exist and I can't recall the last time I was kissed... This song is all Char. Her bubble just burst in a big way and the truth has come crashing down.

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I'm so excited for the rest of the band stories in this series! I hadn't planned on writing a book for each member of C1 but I can't help myself. I do love a good rockstar romance! 💖🎸