13. Phoenix

CHAPTER 13

Phoenix

" T ony… you're really starting to piss me off now," I said, slumping against the couch as the bus thundered down the road. "Why is this book signing thing such a damn mess?"

"I don't pick the schedule, Phie," he replied, not looking up from his laptop. The man had a habit of delivering bad news and then making himself look busy to throw me off. But I wasn't falling for it this time. "It's just the way the publishing house wants us to do it."

"Then why the bus?" I squawked. "If you knew we were going to pinball across the country like this, why not just take a plane?"

"And miss you getting upset about all this?" He glanced up at me with a smirk. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Tony, I'm serious! What's the point of all this?!"

"Look," he said, pushing his laptop aside with a sigh. "The bouncing between coasts is only the two stops. We start in Savannah and then go directly to Seattle. From there we'll work our way down the west coast and then hit a couple along the gulf before hitting the east coast."

"Why not hire a bus in Seattle then and just fly?"

"Because, buddy boy, believe it or not, the company doesn't want to fly you and your fucking motorcycle first class all over the country. And hiring a bus in Seattle is a lot more expensive than grabbing one in Savannah."

I narrowed my gaze, attempting to burn holes in his fancy-pants blazer with my stare. "I don't feel like that's true."

"Doesn't matter how you feel," Tony sighed, going back to his laptop. "Take it up with finance. They're the ones that made the decision. Not me."

I huffed out a sigh like a petulant child. "Can't you get me out of it?"

"Phoenix," he replied, as gently and sarcastically as possible. "We're already on the damn bus."

"I know… but–"

"But nothing!" he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "You made me fly your motorcycle down here and have a special rack mounted on this bus for it in less than twelve hours. You have half a million in the bank and more on the way with how fast this book is selling. All of your wildest fucking dreams have come true and you're going to sit here on this bus and bitch that you have to sign a few thousand books?"

The look on his face was daring me to argue with him. He was all wound up like a snake, ready to strike.

"I just… I just don't want to do this."

"Well," Tony said, snapping his laptop closed. "Too fucking bad. You wanted the dream and now you gotta pay for it. And to be perfectly honest with you, it's a pretty low price for a lifetime of comfort."

"No… you're right." I let my arms fall to my sides in defeat. "Ugh…"

Tony got up from the small dining table and crossed to the couch, plopping down beside me. His hand went to my thigh, his fingers squeezing through the denim of my jeans.

"Weren't you the one that told me you wanted to see the world, anyway? Doesn't this sort of fit into that plan?"

"I want to ride my bike across the country," I corrected. "Not watch it fly by from inside a bus."

"At least this is a bit safer, right?"

"And way less fun."

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. "You artist types are all the same. You want fun, fun, fun all the time and no work."

"Uh, yeah. Duh. Who the hell wants to work?"

"Jesus. Never say that around my blue-collar parents, alright? You might start a brawl."

"What? Why?"

"Because where I'm from, work is life, and it's something you take a lot of pride in. Telling someone you don't want to work is basically calling yourself a parasite. And if you tell them that their work isn't important… well, let's just say you might not leave with all your teeth."

"I guess it's a good thing you're never gonna let me meet your parents then," I said, giving him a nudge with my shoulder.

"They're already weird about the gay thing. The last thing I want to do is introduce them to my regular hookup. "

"At least this hookup is a cash cow."

"Yeah. Because of me ."

"I wrote the book, dummy. You can't market nothing."

"Wanna bet? I can think of a dozen people that have made an entire career out of selling nothing."

He was right of course. He usually was when it came to businessy things. Actually, he was typically right about everything. And it was a good thing too, because I wasn't that smart, and I'd been wrong enough times in my life to know I couldn't really trust my intuition. I'd learned that before I'd left Creekside for the last time.

"So how is the sequel coming along?"

I let out a strained laugh. "Sequel? What sequel?"

"Don't tell me you haven't even started it yet," Tony sighed. "You know the publisher wants at least two more from you! They really want to put out a full trilogy now with how well the first book has done!"

The publisher wanted a lot of things. It seemed like every time I turned around they had another demand for me. The demand for a sequel or two, however, had not been baked into my contract. For that I was eternally grateful. That being said, they did write in the right of first refusal. So, no matter what I ended up writing next, it had to go to them first. I could only take it elsewhere if they turned it down. And that included publishing it myself. My pen, whatever it ended up creating next, belonged to editors and their money-grubbing stockholders. Sometimes it made me feel like my writing career had already been bought and sold out from underneath me.

But, if I didn't write another book, they couldn't take it from me. Then again, another half a million wouldn't hurt my bottom line at all. It was that internal struggle that ate up most of my waking hours. Do I embrace the corporate world and make a shit ton of money? Or should I stay true to the spirit of creativity and do it solely because I loved it without financial gain?

"Earth to Phie," Tony said, waving his hand in front of my face.

"What?" I looked up at him, my eyes dry from forgetting to blink for the past minute. "Did you say something?"

"Were you thinking about the sequel or just ignoring me?"

"Uh… both I guess."

Tony shook his head, his hand riding higher on my thigh. "Well, if you're not going to work on your sequel, then maybe I can find a way to get your attention."

His hand moved higher, his thumb caressing my cock through my jeans. Somehow, even when soft, Tony always seemed to know exactly where it was. The guy had a dick magnet in his hand, I swear.

"The driver is right there," I hissed, nodding my head in his direction.

"He's got headphones in." Tony moved his hand up further, cupping my junk, completely unbothered that we weren't alone. "And a rearview mirror so he can watch."

I pulled his hand away. "You are relentless."

He didn't let go of my hand though. "Come to the back then. Maybe I can inspire you to write with my mouth."

My gaze was drawn down to the tent in his slacks. I could tell from the outline in the fabric that he wasn't wearing underwear. The man was such a slut. And somehow, always prepared to be as slutty as possible.

"You're going to suck me off while I write?" I joked, turning my gaze back up at him.

"If that's what it takes for you to make us both even richer, then I'll happily do my part."

"I knew that's all you wanted this bus for," I muttered, getting to my feet. "Are you sure you didn't talk finance into the bus just so we could fuck our way across the country?"

"You'll never know." He shrugged, pulling me toward the back. "Besides, there's something really romantic about riding a cock while you're doing eighty down the freeway, isn't there?"

"Well, now I know why you don't write the books."

He turned back, wrapping his hands around my waist and working his fingers under the waistband of my jeans. "Mr. McKean, you can either fuck me or sign books until we go to bed. Make your choice."

I let out a sigh, pretending to be a lot more put out than I actually was. "I guess I'll fuck you. If that's what it takes."

"I'm glad my ass is just about as boring as signing books."

"It's only marginally better."

"You're a dick," he grinned, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. "Now will you please shut up and fuck me?"

I nodded, allowing him to pull me into the back of the bus and close the door behind us. It was meaningless fun and we always had a good time. But once the deed was done, and the lights were out, I caught myself staring up through the skylight at the stars shining in the night sky. Tony snored softly beside me, the warmth of his body pressed against my side. It was comforting, not being alone. But not much. Not because Tony wasn't a good friend or a great lay, but because he wasn't the man I wanted. He wasn't the one that should have been lying beside me in my bed, celebrating this incredible success I'd found.

He wasn't Charlie .

I shook my head, the name echoing against the inside of my skull. Usually, I did my best not to say it aloud, even in my own thoughts. But tonight, exhausted and staring up at the stars, I found myself recalling those long nights next to the creek. A fire crackled, warming my feet and my best friend in the whole world sat beside me, his shoulder resting against mine. We'd stare up at the stars, dreaming of life and everything it would hold for us. How we would face it together, hand in hand.

Forcing the vision away, I tore my eyes away from the stars and turned over, pressing my back to Tony's. For all the dreams I'd had as a kid, only one of them had come true. And now that I had it, I realized how little it meant without Charlie at my side.

But I guess I'd just have to get the fuck over it, right? Because Charlie made it very clear, he didn't want me.

Now it was my turn to finally stop wanting him. I had to let him go.

Somehow.