DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 18: Drummer Boys ReOrder Their Objectives

Ok, after rereading some scenes from Tantric, I realized that perhaps I need to refresh you readers on the state of Bodie's situation within Soundcrush and with the label, so this is a set/up transition chapter before we meet Darius.  Bodie and Darius will be the next chapter.

@mariaboboti  , I hope I did your bad-assery justice....the song is for you too...and Ronna...and Marley...and Row...and Mac

Bodie, Four Hours Ago

As I make my way out of customs at Hartsfield Airport in Atlanta, I'm experiencing separation anxiety. 

I just parted ways with Varrick and Bells. They are catching a flight on to Nashville.

This jittery feeling ain't just being separated from Varrick's stash, with only one tiny baggie carefully concealed in my carry-on, because that's all he would give me.

This will get you through your second move, he said. Your third move—detox—needs to start tomorrow.

This feeling of anxiety...it's more than being practically smack-less.

Surprisingly, it was hard to say good-bye to Arabella.

I'm not in love with the girl, but I've been with her every single day for more than four months, managing life for both of us, fighting with her sometimes, but mostly just taking care of her, because she's not used to looking after herself. 

She is a Disney Princess, after all.

It worries the fuck out of me, how she's going to manage for herself at whatever rehab her uncle forces her into.

Note to self: lay off the shit I give Trace about his fake-marriage to Ashlynn. 

I get it now.

Before I can explore that thought further, a hottie with glossy dark hair, great cheekbones and the kind of lips that look like they don't give much away except kisses strides toward me as fast as her pencil skirt and ankle boots will allow.

She doesn't look crazy, but she has a real determined look in her eye.  I brace for the fangirl-latch-on.

To be honest, it doesn't happen a lot except on tour--at concert venues and sometimes if the city's fan club gets wind of where we are staying. It's rare that we do get "attacked" by an lone ecstatic fan on the street or in a public place. But it does happen. And as this chic speeds toward me, I'm sure it's going down for real.

I practically open my arms for her, because it's over quicker if you just go with it, but to my surprise, Ms. All- Business relieves me of my carry-on, circles around me like a tornado-- slipping a hoodie on me, slapping a cap on my head, pulling the hoodie up over and handing me sunglasses and my bag back, all seemingly at once.

Only then, does she latch on—tucking her arm in mine and setting us off at a quick pace.

It all happened so fast that no one but me seemed to notice this woman just claimed me like a piece of luggage.

"You are not here," she says. " As far as the world knows, you are still in Thailand. No paparazzi outside, so that's good. But don't take off the hat or sunglasses. And for god's sake's do not flash that smile. Car is just through the doors..."

"Uhhh...who are you?"

"Ariadne," she says, like that should mean something to me. She picks up on my blank stare. "Ariadne Leventis," she elaborates. "I work for Riley, behind the scenes."

"Since when?"

"Since you've been away," she says vaguely with a toss of her rich brown hair.

"So you're like, his PA?" I ask curiously.