Octo BEAR fest (Renaissance Shifters #1)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

S neaking in the back way brought back memories for Gwen. Not necessarily good ones, although for the first time, she thought maybe they weren't entirely bad, either. The rest of the band were exchanging slightly hysterical glances as they scurried from the back parking lot into the pub's kitchen, and from there, through the staff hall to Bill's office. Gwen still had a key, and let them all in, though there weren't enough chairs and she ended up sitting on the floor against the filing cabinets while the others nabbed what chairs there were, and, in Penny's case, sat on the desk.

Penny was the one who asked: "Is it always like that?" There were easily three hundred people already at the pub, most of them in the parking lot, and they were making a lot of noise, even this early in the evening.

Gwen thumped her head against the cabinets and smiled, then shook her head. "No. For bigger stuff you end up coming in from a distant entrance most of the fans don't even know about. It's less sneaky, or it feels less sneaky, because you can't hear them, or see them. It's safer. Less overwhelming. Under the right circumstances, though, going in through the crowd is…it's fun, in a way. You really get hyped up for the show."

Myles had thrown his long legs over the arm of the chair he'd taken. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk that much about any of it before."

"We never had five hundred screaming fans show up to a gig before," Gwen pointed out. "Look, guys. We haven't talked enough about whether we want to sign with a label or not, but whether we do or not, if we're right and this album does break big, if we start getting national coverage…" She sighed and raked her hands through her hair, knowing it would mess up the rough ponytail. "I'm not sure you really get how much it could change everything."

The others exchanged glances before Gemma said, "No, obviously we don't. You're the only one who's lived it. But we're adults, Gwen. I think we can handle it."

Gwen shook her head. "No. I mean, yeah, the popularity, I think you can, that's not a problem. It's how they're going to treat me . I really…" Her heart contracted, a funny sad little twist. "I really want to be a member of a band."

"Gwen." Sandy sounded exasperated. "Every band has a front man. A few of them have two, but mostly it's Josie and the Pussycats. None of us thought we'd end up being Josie when we decided to join a band with Emma Hart."

Gwen dropped her hands to stare at Sandy a moment, then at Gemma and Myles. "Did you all know who I was when you joined?"

The women all snorted, sounds that made it clear the answer was 'obviously,' while Myles, embarrassed, said, "Actually, Gemma had to tell me last year."

"Myles!" Penny's voice shot up. "You've been part of the band for three years! Are you serious?"

"Her name's Gwen!" Myles half-yelled back, still obviously embarrassed. "Why would I think she used to be Emma? There was some gig in Cheyenne," he mumbled. "A fan kept holding up a sign that said 'I HART EMMA' and after the show I asked Gemma why. She laughed at me for half an hour."

"That was six months ago, " Sandy said incredulously. "That was this year!"

"Well, whatever. I didn't know."

"That's amazing and wonderful," Gwen told him honestly. "Also sorry I'm a weirdo who used to be famous and didn't tell you."

He shrugged. "It's fine. I looked you up. The really weird part was you having blonde hair. And for the record, I also didn't think I'd be Josie."

A laugh broke over the band before Sandy leaned forward in Bill's chair, making it creak. "So, yeah, Gwen, we knew. And we all respected, respect, that you didn't wanna play on being Emma Hart to break big. But…look, we've talked about this. Especially since we started recording the new album, which we all know is shit-hot. Penny is incredible at the whole social media thing and she can keep us in rotation, especially if you continue with the not doing it at all, but if we get any bigger than we are tonight, yeah, you're gonna be the lead singer, the front man for the band. And Gwen, I mean, there was a reason you were a famous kid. You've got it ." She wet her lips and glanced at the others. Gemma nodded once, encouraging her to keep talking for the rest of them. Sandy's gaze came back to Gwen. "I guess what I'm trying to say is we know the attention is going to turn to you. We've always known that would happen if things went well. We're okay with that."

"It's just the idea of it and the reality of it are really different," Gwen said swiftly. "It's one thing to know it'll happen. It's another to watch and feel all the questions getting directed at me, the promo shots featuring me, the frickin' tabloids talking about me, the media wanting me on their talk shows. It's…it makes a gulf." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back again. "I remember when it happened with Starting School . I remember the day it became obvious I was the breakout star. All six of us were there, being interviewed together, ensemble cast, you know, the whole thing. And something happened, the way the interviewers kept redirecting questions to me even when one of the others was talking. The way the camera focused on me. The way they cropped everybody else out for the promo piece. And the next day after the story was out, they were all mad at me. Nobody wanted to talk to me anymore. I don't want to go through that again."

She opened her eyes to find the rest of the band glancing at each other again, and this time Gemma, who was abrupt and practical at almost all times, spoke. "We're not fourteen, Gwen." She cracked a thin smile. "I can't promise we'll be envy-free twenty-four-seven, but we're not kids. We get what we're signing up for. This isn't a pit fight."

At everyone else's startled laughter, she looked around defiantly. "Oh, come on, I can't be the only one who sees those mega-popular tween shows that way, can I? It's totally Highlander. There can be only one. They throw all these kids into a show together and see who the audiences respond to best, and the rest of them are trashed. Sometimes a bunch of them make it through, but let's be real, Gwen probably had the healthiest self-destruction of any of that crew she ended up in."

Color rushed up Gwen's face, although she couldn't really argue. She had self-destructed, but more or less on purpose. Two of her castmates from back then had ended up with serious drug problems, although one had made it through and still worked in film and television with regular but not breakout success. A third had simply not grown up into as cute an adult as he'd been a teen, and had retired. Gwen thought he sold real estate now. The last two had a series of high-profile disastrous relationships, including one with each other, and were still occasionally featured in 'where are they now' sob stories. Gwen hadn't fallen apart like that, and, she realized now, had some guilt about that , too. "You're not wrong," she said a bit faintly.

Gemma looked slightly abashed, as if she realized that might have been a little too blunt. She still said, "I know I'm not. I get where you're coming from, G. But we're not kids. It's not gonna be the same." She pulled in a deep breath, held it, then released it, saying, "Assuming you want to do this. I don't want to kid you, if you walk away I'm guessing me and Myles are probably gonna cut loose, but that's not meant as a threat. It's just we're as close to stardom as we're gonna get and it'd be stupid to not take this moment and parlay it for ourselves if you want to stay at this level."

"I don't think I do." Gwen almost surprised herself with the admission, and she could hear the quick intake of breath from her bandmates. "We've worked really hard to get where we are. I know I could have made it easier, but you've stuck with me while I took the hard road. I had stardom handed to me when I was young," she said flatly. "I was a kid and got lucky. This time I feel like maybe I've earned it. And I know you guys have. So, yeah, um." She gave her friends an uncertain smile. "Yeah, I mean, I think we need to talk about the label idea, but if you guys want to shoot for the stars, I'm in. And if that means a little bit of leaning into who I used to be, I can live with that, too."

"I don't think you have lean in," Penny said with a little smile of her own. "Because you're right, they're going to be all up in your face about it, but if you stick to that line—you had stardom handed to you and walked away and now you think, hope, you've earned it, Gwen Booker is the life you've chosen—then you can't stop them from waxing lyrical about Emma Hart, but you don't have to lean into it, either. And we can use Myles's story to really highlight that. Like, he basically didn't know who you used to be until we started recording the new album. Because you're good, Gwen. Because we're good. So the Sixty Pix are a band who look forward, not back."

Gwen burst into spontaneous applause that the others picked up on, laughter filling the little office. "You're really good at that," Gwen said as the clapping ended. "If you ever decide to stop being a rock star, you could probably have a nice job in marketing."

"Oh my God. No thanks. Come on, let's go be rock stars instead. Our fans are calling our names."

That was actually true. Gwen climbed off the floor, grinning, and pulled her bandmates into a hug, mumbling, "Thank you. Thank you all," before they headed out to the stage.

The roar of excitement that met them was too big for the size of the space. Gwen honestly thought the roof might lift off for a moment, and wondered if they should have moved the whole gig outdoors. It was too late now, and Gwen had a sudden moment of wanting to stay in the moment, clinging to it, because it might be the last time they got to play to such an intimate audience. She found Bill in the crowd—not hard, because he'd taken a stance over to one side, where his height didn't block anybody but he could see easily, and sang a couple of songs right to him. His smile lifted her in ways she hadn't known was possible, and when the show was over and he came back to scoop her into a congratulatory hug, she whispered, "You're gonna escort me out and steal me away from all of this, right?"

His laugh was almost inaudible, but she felt it rumbling through her body. "Yeah. But I'm going to bring you back, too, because this is what you're meant to do. I'm just lucky enough to be here to see it."

She beamed up at him. It was ridiculous to think how right that felt when she'd only known the man a couple of days, but it felt right anyway, filling her heart with joy. "Perfect. That sounds perfect." A pang shot through her as she realized she was leaving the next day, although Gwen reminded herself she'd be back next weekend: they already had a date planned. One less chaotic than this weekend had been. At least in theory.

It took forever to get through the waiting crowds, but every minute was worth it. Gwen was still flying with exuberance when they finally broke free, which turned out to mean 'went back to the pub so they could escape out the back door.' Bill's truck was waiting, and he went to the gentlemanly effort of opening the door for her. "Your place or mine?"

"Oh, yours!" Gwen said, startled. "I forgot you lived here. Yeah, yours. That way the hotel won't have any noise complaints."

Bill, beneath his breath but loud enough to hear, said, "Oh my God," and Gwen laughed.

"I can probably be quiet if you want me t?—"

"Nope! No, no thank you, that won't be necessary. But forgive me for being glad I only live a few blocks away." They were more or less at his house by the time the conversation ended, in fact, and he said, "Stay there," in a tone that sounded more helpful than commanding. A moment later he was at her door again, lifting her down from the truck, although nowhere near all the way down. He wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt rucking up around her hips, and leaned her up against the side of the truck, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her thoroughly before mumbling, "I currently regret my decision to live in town. If I'd gotten that place out in the woods we would already be having sex."

"It's very late," Gwen said hopefully. "I can be very quiet. No one will know."

"Mmm, no, I definitely want someone to know. You. Me. But not the neighbors." He moved away from the truck, still effortlessly holding her, and closed its door before carrying her up to the house. Gwen twisted, trying to get a look as he opened the door—unlocked it, holding her just as effortlessly with one hand under her ass instead of two—and stepped inside.

It was, of course, dark, and he didn't bother turning a light on. That was fine: Gwen was plenty turned on for anybody or anything. She did grin and murmur, "Nice place," against his mouth, and Bill laughed.

"Thanks. I tidied up just for you."

"And I wore a skirt just for you."

Bill groaned. "I noticed. You didn't warn me about the thigh-high boots. You were the sexiest woman I've ever seen up there on stage. Do you have to take the boots off?"

"Do you want me to?"

He shuddered, grabbing her ass more firmly and pulsing his hips against hers. "I really fucking don't. Bedroom?"

"I don't really care as long as you don't put me down."

He murmured, "Gwen," and captured her mouth with his again, this time with slow intensity that left her aching throughout for more of his touch. His hand slid up her spine, pushing her shirt out of the way until she lifted her arms so he could pull it all the way off, all without having to put her down. He glanced down at the mounds of her breasts in their bra, and groaned again. "Black lace. You're trying to kill me." He was good at unfastening a bra with one hand; it loosened and she discarded it with a laugh, kissing him and winding her arms around his neck.

"I'm almost sure killing is not what I'm trying to do. God, you're so strong. How the hell can you just hold me up like this?"

"I'm very strong," he replied, amused. "You like it?"

"So much," she whispered. "You make me feel fragile and very fuckable." She kissed his throat, rucking his own shirt up so she could run her hands over the solid muscle of his chest, and shivered. "God, you're big . Oh, how am I going to get this off you!" It took a moment of effort on both their parts before his shirt joined hers on the floor. Gwen had the vague idea they'd gone down a hallway, but she had no idea if they were heading for a bedroom or a kitchen counter. She squirmed her hand down between their bodies, finding the fly of his jeans, and Bill took a sharp, deep breath.

"If you spend much time down there I'm going to forget entirely about foreplay," he warned.

"That's not the discouragement you think it is," she whispered back. "I've been thinking about you all day. I'm plenty warmed up."

He breathed, "Gwen," as she undid his fly and pushed his jeans down with her heels, making sure to take his shorts with them. Bill took another half step, froze, and made a sound of frustrated desire. "I'm going to kill us both if I keep heading for the bedroom. Jeans are around my ankles. I'll trip."

"As long as you can keep holding me, here is real good," Gwen promised breathily.

"I will never let you fall. Gwen, can I, I want to, I need you, can I?"

She whispered, "You better," and shuddered as he shifted her position against him a little, her boot-clad thighs around his hips instead of his waist as he slid into her, with a rough chuckle and an adjustment for the tiny panties she hadn't taken off. Gwen, thickly, said, "Oh my God. Oh my God, you are big," and to her shock, orgasmed abruptly from the pleasure of being claimed so gently by so much size. "Bill, yes , Jesus!"

"Ah God." He laughed, clutching her to him, and buried his face in her shoulder a moment before finding her mouth for more kisses. "God, you feel good, Gwen. God, yeah." She felt him stepping out of the jeans, leaving them behind as he adjusted his grip on her, settling her more comfortably and then sliding his thumb down her spine so she arched abruptly. He ducked his head to catch one of her nipples in his mouth and heat spilled through her again, erupting in a cry of pleasure that made him tighten his grip around her waist. "Oh yeah ."

"Oh my God," she said again, somewhere between laughter and stupidity. "You're so big. So strong. Oh my God , Bill. Yeah. Again. More. More?" She was lost in his strength, flying again, pleasure coursing through her as they moved together. As he moved them through the house, too, although slowly, until he suddenly sat down somewhere and her own weight drove her more deeply onto him as he no longer carried it the same way. Gwen came again, crying out with release, and he slid his fingers between their bodies to work her clit as he thrust up into her, until another orgasm made her shriek and beg for him to come with her.

He groaned and heat spilled into her like he'd been waiting for permission, the thick throbs pulsing against her in the most satisfying ways. She collapsed against him, gasping and struggling to catch her breath between kisses, and shivered from the bones out. Bill whispered, "Perfect," against her hair, and for a little while, everything was.