Avoiding every person that we could, we crept our way to a set of doors marked with an Exit sign. We stealthily made our way down a hallway that Matt said let out by the busses. We weren't going to the busses, but no one around needed to know that. When we got outside, a guard was stationed outside of the door, keeping an eye on things. The guys nodded at him, walking past like they owned the place. Either the guard recognized them as rock stars, or saw my go-anywhere pass. Either way, he didn't question any of us as we left the arena. I suppose he was more concerned with people trying to get into the backstage area than people leaving it.
When we got onto the regular street, that one security guard was the only person who knew we were gone. That sort of freedom gave us all a buzz; there was a lot of giggling and playful ribbing. I loved being included in it. Griffin scoured the street, trying to figure out where we were in relation to the nearest bar while Kellan nudged Matt's arm. "You know what time we should be back, right?" Matt nodded as he tapped the watch on his wrist. I hoped he did. It would not be good if the boys were late.
Suddenly, Griffin pointed to his right and shouted, "Bar, ho!"
He immediately started sprinting toward his alcoholic haven. Matt and Evan took off after him, both of them laughing. Kellan looked over at me. "Last one to the bar has to sit by Griffin." I darted away before he even finished his sentence.
I had a serious ache in my side when I stepped on the rubber welcome mat, but my foot came down a half-second before Kellan's, so I considered that a victory. Hands on my knees, I struggled to catch my breath as I peered up at him. It had been a while since I'd sprinted. "Beat 'cha," I panted.
Kellan was breathing heavier too as he pulled the door open. "I let you win. I liked the view." He winked at me as I ducked inside.
I expected every sound in the bar to stop when the D-Bags walked in, but nobody here seemed to know who they were. I loved that they still had some anonymity. Kellan was the only one who caused a stir, but I didn't know if that was recognition, or if it was just his looks that were causing a ripple of whispers to float around the small circular tables.
Griffin made his way to a table in the back and we followed him. When we all arrived, his face turned oddly serious. "Same rules as last time."
Matt rolled his eyes while Evan laughed and shrugged. Kellan frowned and glanced at me. "We're not playing that game tonight, Griff."
Griffin eyed Kellan up and down. "Uh, yeah, we are." His smile turned arrogant. "What? Afraid you'll lose?"
Evan turned to Matt. "When has Kellan ever lost?"
Curious, and wondering if I wanted to know what game they routinely played at bars while on tour, I asked, "What game?"
Kellan turned to me. "It's stupid . . . Griffin came up with it." He said it like Griffin and stupid were synonymous.
Griffin snorted. "You're a pansy. All intimidated 'cuz your girlfriend's here?"
"Wife," Kellan corrected.
"Whatever, we're playing. Turn out your pockets." He instantly pulled the innards out of his jeans. They were empty.
Kellan looked over at me and, too curious to say no, I nodded. Kellan turned out his pockets, which were also empty. After all the guys did it, Griffin looked satisfied. "Good. Now, numbers count as one point, condoms count as five. The person with the least amount of points picks up the tab. The stud with the most gets a shot from everybody . . . and top shelf shit too." He pointed at each guy in turn. "And cheating in any way is grounds for immediate ass-kickery." His fingers pointed at his own eyes, then Matt's. I'm watching you. Matt sighed.
Still trying to wrap my head around the point system-condoms?-I asked, "Wait, what game?"
Griffin squatted in front of me. "The dude who fills his pockets with the most chick's phone numbers wins." He said it slowly, like I was already drunk so I couldn't possibly understand him.
My eyes widened, and I turned to Kellan with an eyebrow raised. "And you haven't ever lost this game?"
Kellan lifted his hands in the air. "Completely unsolicited, I swear." I pursed my lips at him and Kellan scratched his head. "You, uh, want a drink?"
I gave him a tight smile. "Mmm-hmm."
Kellan immediately tucked tail and headed for the bar. I had to laugh a little as he waded through the crowd with his head down. Evan wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "He really doesn't ask for any. He doesn't have to. Girls tend to . . . shove things Kellan's way." His raised his eyebrow, and the ring pierced through it sparkled at me; it nearly matched the amused gleam in his eye. "Just you watch."
Curious, I turned around to observe my husband. As he waited at the bar for our drinks, he was approached by a couple of girls. They hadn't talked to him for more than five seconds before one of them was sliding a napkin his way. My jaw dropped. That was so fast! Griffin was apparently just as shocked as I was.
"You've got to be f**king kidding me!" He raised his hands in the air. "You're a whore!" he yelled at Kellan. Some girls, maybe thinking he meant them, looked back at Griffin with scowls on their faces. I figured none of them would be approaching him with their numbers tonight.
Kellan looked back at our table. Seeing my amused smile, Kellan teasingly waved the napkin at Griffin, then stuffed it in his pocket. Griffin's scowl grew. "No way that cocksucker's pulling one over on me again." He disappeared into the packed bar, and I had the distinct feeling that every one of his phone numbers would be "solicited." Heavily solicited. Perhaps bribed.
I knew the game should have disgusted me, but aside from Griffin, none of the guys actively tried to get phone numbers. Their natural good looks and charisma did it for them. Their quickness to laugh and easygoing personalities drew a circle of people around them. It was almost like we were back at Pete's. I even had to stop myself from clearing off a table once or twice. But, unlike Pete's, Kellan merely had to walk by a woman to get her to discretely shove a finger in his pocket. He didn't acknowledge the slip, or the girl, and I began to wonder if maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was exactly like Pete's and I just didn't realize it. Maybe Kellan got slipped numbers at our bar back home and I had never noticed. Well, if he did, he was quick to discard them.
It also helped that all of the guys treated the game as a big joke. Whenever Kellan grabbed a drink at the bar, or went to the bathroom, someone asked him how many names he'd nabbed when he returned. When Griffin sulked his way back to the table with an irritated expression, Matt gave him an exaggerated, sympathetic, "Ah, no luck?" to which Griffin responded with grace by flipping him off.
Drinks and merriment abounded at our table, and I grew to love my decision to roam around the country with D-Bags more and more. When everyone was feeling no pain, the alarm on Matt's watch went off. We all stared at it for a second, then remembered that there was still a show going on.
"Shit, Sienna's set is almost over. We have to go." Matt looked a little panicked as he downed his beer.
Everyone started to leave the table but Griffin threw his hands out. "Wait! We need a winner. Pockets."
As I stifled a drunken giggle, I wondered which guy would be breaking the most hearts tonight. My bet was on Kellan. I eagerly leaned into his side, like he was laying down a winning poker hand, not phone numbers from girls. Evan started the process, slapping down a single phone number scrawled on a wadded up piece of paper. "Just one." He shrugged, not really caring.
Exalted, Griffin tossed down a napkin, a business card, and . . . I swear . . . a section of toilet paper. "Ha! Three! Read 'em and weep." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Kellan.
Knowing he had to have way more than that, I nudged him in the ribs. Kellan shook his head at me, then pulled his prizes from his pockets. He had to unfold them all he had so many. "Uh . . . five," he muttered, throwing them on the table.
Griffin slammed his hand on the table. "Damn it, Kellan! I f**king hate you."
Evan raised an edge of his lip. "Just five? Slow night, Kell?"
Kellan laughed at Evan, while Griffin muttered, "Fine, prick, what shot do you want?"
"What about Matt?" I asked, looking over at the quiet guitarist; he was watching the exchange with a secretive smile on his lips. "How did you do?"
Matt was about to answer when Griffin interrupted. "Pfffft, no way Matt beat Kellan . . . it's over." He raised a pale eyebrow. "Unless . . . someone slip you a condom?"
Matt slowly shook his head. "No . . ." Reaching into his pocket, he slowly pulled out a flat credit-card looking thing. His cheeks brightened with color as he tossed it on the table. "I got a motel key."
By the whooping and hollering the guys did, you would think Matt had just won the lottery. "Holy shit!" Griffin exclaimed. "That's an instant win!" Bouncing on his feet, Griffin grabbed Matt's shoulders. "Oh my God, you beat Kellan!" Turning Matt around, he showcased him to the bar. "Everybody! This is my cousin right here, and he just dethroned God's Gift to Women!" He rubbed Matt's head with his knuckles while Matt turned about a bazillion shades of red.
Slipping away from him, Matt hurried out of the bar. Griffin raised his hands. "Dude? Your shots?"
Evan was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears out of his eyes. I couldn't stop laughing either. When Evan could talk, he mumbled, "I guess I lost," and started reaching for his wallet.
Kellan stopped him and handed the waitress a folded up one hundred dollar bill, or maybe two of them. I wasn't sure. "I got it, Evan."
Evan clapped his shoulder. "Thanks, Kell," then stumbled after Matt and Griffin.
Kellan grabbed my hand and pulled me after them, leaving the motel key and the stack of phones numbers sitting on the table. It made me smile that not a single member of the band kept any of the numbers . . . not even Griffin. When we got outside, Kellan asked me, "So, you're really not mad?"
I gave him a sarcastic smile. "I'm furious." Kellan raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed again. "It only would have made me mad if Griffin had beat you."
Kellan looked over at where Griffin was announcing to the street that his very embarrassed cousin's "balls had just dropped." Shaking his head, Kellan murmured, "Never would have happened."
Under Matt's insistence, the very buzzed D-Bags stumbled their way back into the arena with me. Getting past the security guard near the back entrance was a little trickier than leaving it had been. It was a different guard than before, and he kept asking for proof that the boys were really in the show. Kellan, Matt, and Evan had their clearances with them, but Griffin had forgotten his. Everyone was too drunk to come up with anything logical sounding; Griffin just kept showing him the pass around my neck, but that only allowed me access. Luckily Deacon was relaxing in the bus, overheard the argument, and grabbed Griffin's missing credentials for him.
Once inside, the boys made a beeline for the stage. An overwrought person with a clipboard hurriedly pulled them toward the rear entrance of the stage. Before Kellan disappeared, he grabbed my face and kissed me. The alcohol on his breath was strong; hopefully he remembered all of the words to the duet he was about to do.
I moved back into my favorite place to watch Sienna announce her special encore to wrap up the evening. The crowd went nuts, already suspecting what it was going to be. Light-headed and giddy, I tried to whistle along with the crowd. It came out flat and airy, more like I was blowing up an inner tube.
Sienna's arm swished to the back of the stage. "Ladies and gents, please put your hands together again for the D-Bags, led by the outstanding Kellan Kyle!"
Maybe it was because I was tipsier than before, but the screams seemed extra piercing. The boys hobbled out, only half stumbling as they switched places with Sienna's band. Kellan walked up to stand beside Sienna, and she grabbed his hand then leaned over to kiss his cheek. I really wished she'd stop doing that. Kellan discretely pulled away from her as he acknowledged the crowd. Wondering if any of the forward girls at the bar tonight realized just whose jeans they'd been shoving their numbers into, I watched Kellan and Sienna start their number-one hit.