Claiming Addison

By: Zoey Derrick

“Hello boys,” Kyle says to the two on door duty. “I’d like to introduce you to Addison, she’ll be tagging along on this here tour.” I watch as Kyle smiles widely at his fake southern hillbilly accent. “Addison, this is Beck.” Agent K in my mind, “And this is Leroy.” I smile at the name because well, it fits, but yet it doesn’t. Leroy is huge and I hold my hand out to him first.

He takes it and my pale skin looks paler up against his, and tiny as hell. “Pleasure to meet you, Leroy. Have we met before?”

He smiles. “No, ma’am, though I’ve seen you before. I was assigned to Mrs. Michaels for some time a few months back.”

I nod in recognition. “That’s right, I remember now.”

I turn to Beck, extending the same greeting. Though his facial features are not unattractive, he has a very hard demeanor about him. Why? I’m not sure. He softens enough to take my hand. “Nice to meet you, Beck.”

“Likewise, ma’am.” He pulls his hand back and returns to his position. I see Leroy giving him the stink eye and I smile.

“Well, gentleman, see you later,” Kyle says as he ushers me toward the three stairs onto the bus. I climb up and get a full shot of the interior and holy crap. It's such a masculine space, filled with blacks, chromes and reds. Immediately in front of me is an L shaped couch with a couple of tables in front of it. The couch is on the right side of the bus, behind the driver’s throne. Across from the couch is a kitchen that looks rather state of the art with an overly large dorm refrigerator on the far end wall. On the wall opposite the fridge is a large flat screen that literally has half an inch to spare between the bus wall and the hallway that leads toward the back of the bus.

I can see three curtains, open, stacked on top of each other and there are two men standing in front of them putting stuff away.

“Hey guys,” Kyle says.

“What, dick?” One of the guys replies, laughing and turning toward me and Kyle. They both stop dead in their tracks, staring at me. They make no secret of the fact that they’re looking me up and down.

“You brought a pre-road snack I see.” And he starts moving in my direction in a rather unsexy yet provocative advancement.

“Shut it, Dex,” Kyle snaps.

“Oh but Kyle, she isn’t here for you. She’d take me over you any day.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I blurt. Dex is tall, maybe six two or six three. He’s not overly large, but he has well-muscled arms that are completely covered in ink. I can also see a couple of tats popping the top of the collar on his t-shirt. He is also in a tight fitting white t-shirt and snug jeans, only he’s swapped his shit-kickers for well-worn brown flip-flops. He keeps eye-fucking me. My hand twitches with the impulse to punch him.

“I can tell, this one’s gonna be feisty, but just you wait-,” he says to Kyle but he’s still looking me up and down. He never finishes his sentence, but the look of ‘I’ll get her first’ is there. I want to roll my eyes.

“Addison, this is Dex, the drummer, and regular fuckwad. The big guy behind him sporting what would normally be a hawk is Peacock, or Eric or shithead. He usually answers to each one.”

Peacock sidesteps Dex to come toward me; he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Addison.”

I smile and take his hand. “Same here.” He extends a smile to me. Peacock, as he seems to be affectionately called, is a big man and based off of the name Eric, he’s the bassist. All in all, he’s pretty good looking. I can see tattoos and while he’s a bigger guy, he’s not unfit. I can see the outline of his pecs through his black t-shirt. Ironically, the jeans and shit-kickers seem to be the norm around here.

“Addison is replacing Dylan.”

“That fuck-tard. I must say that his replacement is already a million times better on my eyes.” Dex gives me that bad attempt at being seductive again.

“Forget it, Dex. You ain't got nothin’ I want,” I tell him straight out. His eyes light up giving me the realization that I’ve just given him the ultimate challenge.

“We’ll see about that.”

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