All Fired Up Read Online Free PDF Page B

these days he didn’t take criticism at all well. He was rather peeved himself that Iain had screwed up ‘Fatal Error’, since it was normally a major crowd-pleaser, but he’d had to bite his tongue, given that the rest of the band were already seething and they couldn’t actually afford to give him the boot, or see him walk. Without a drummer, the whole tour would collapse, and none of them could afford for that to happen. This perhaps explained why they were all tolerating his motor-mouthed yapping too. Iain had hardly paused for breath in the last forty minutes and Ash was beginning to suspect he’d taken something, but he sure as hell didn’t want to suggest that at the dinner table, because it’d be an instant tour-killer.
    And, if he was being honest, he needed this tour. Touring was easy, it made life ridiculously simple: they drove about, they played gigs, he ate, slept and fucked. It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t complicated. He didn’t want to deal with real life right now. Reality was a total screw-up.
    Xane leaned towards him, his long black hair falling forward to shroud his angular face. ‘If he doesn’t shut his trap soon, I swear I’m going to throw something at him.’
    Ash caught Xane’s wrist as he reached for a bread roll. Although he was relieved it was only food missiles Xane was considering – there were steak knives on the table.
    ‘He’s nervous, is all. Iain always talks when he’s nervous.’ Not entirely true, but he needed to find some explanation for Iain’s behaviour. ‘Give him a chance to settle in. It’s only been a few days, and you did all lay into him when we came off stage tonight.’
    Actually, they’d all given him hell every night since the tour began, nearly a week ago.
    Xane withdrew his hand, but rolled his eyes at the notion that they’d given Iain a hard time. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Ash? He’s so wrong for us, it’s depressing.’
    ‘He’s a drummer. That makes him perfect for us.’
    Xane gave him the sort of look that would have made anyone else wither. Ash refused to shrivel.
    ‘He pisses me off – deliberately.’
    ‘That’s a bit of an overstatement. He messed up one song, Xane. And I hardly think he did it deliberately. Why would he? We’re his ticket into the big league.’
    ‘Yeah, well, maybe that’s my issue. I don’t like freeloaders hanging off my coat-tails.’
    ‘So work him harder.’
    Xane smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that.’
    ‘Whose phone’s vibrating?’ Spook asked, his native Swedish lilt coming through, a sure indication that he was stressed. The rest of the conversation around the table had stopped.
    ‘Heck, mine.’ Ash fished the damn thing out of his pocket and swiped a finger across the dimmed screen to waken it. It was a little late in the evening for his mum to be calling; she’d be in bed with one of her beloved mystery novels by now. There were only two other people with his number and one of them, Spook, was sitting next to him.
    You never told me what a nice guy your driver is.
Ginny’s message flashed up.
    Shit! Ginny. What with one thing after another post show, the fact he was meant to meet her had completely slipped his mind. Although, hang on. He checked the time. He wasn’t due at the Arc de Triomphe until midnight. Why was she texting him now?
    Where are you?
He typed and hit
send
.
    On your bunk. Flicking through your porn.
    Really, where are you?
    Your bunk.
    She couldn’t really be on the tour bus. Troels, their driver, wouldn’t let her on. OK, he might, depending on what Ginny had said, and if he believed he was doing Ash a favour. It wasn’t as if the band’s resident Cave Troll hadn’t sneaked a girl or two on board in the past for him.
    Why don’t you come and check if you don’t believe me? It’s all quiet here, no one’s home. It’s just me and a lot of empty beds. Whose do you think we should try out first?
    Ash shot to his feet.
    Maybe Xane’s?