Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6) Read Online Free

Shaft
Scandal.
    “It
has neither been confirmed, nor denied, if the break in the sold out Perfectly
Warped Tour is because of the antics of new bassist, Ireland Tyler, or just an
excuse for the group to return to their Nashville compound for some much needed
R&R.
    Photos
show Tyler drinking and partying at Crawl, a local and popular dive bar, before
being spotted outside the hotel the band is known to be staying at, ushering up
several guests to her suite. Hotel manager, Marshall Witherson, refused to
comment, but there is talk amongst the staff of several guest complaints being
filed due to noise.
    As
of now, no shows have been rescheduled or cancelled, but it leaves us all to
wonder what will management be forced to do if this little time out doesn’t
help put her in check.”
    “Bullshit,”
I huff, shoving the papers out of my way and climbing from the bed. “None of
this shit is true.”
    “They
report on what they see, Ireland,” Camaron says, stepping into the room. “Putting
a spin on things is what they get paid for. Scandal equals sales, plain and
simple.”
    “Can
we discuss this once I’ve had coffee?” I ask while my brain bangs out its own
bassline against my skull.
    The
bottom of her sleeveless, slate gray dress swishes around her knees. Every inch
of her is flawlessly put together, as always. I would be jealous of her long
legs and a bit intimidated by her confident demeanor if I wasn’t fighting the
urge to climb back in the bed and hide under the covers until my head stops
pounding. “Here.” Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she crosses the
room toward me and hands me orange juice and a bottle of aspirin. “This is
better for you than coffee.”
    “Thank
you,” I say, quickly downing two of the pills and chugging the juice.
    Nodding,
she sighs. “I haven’t said much about how you’ve behaved on the tour the last
few months, in hopes you’d reel yourself in on your own; but, last night, has
forced my hand.”
    “Is
this you firing me?” I ask, meeting her eyes. “Or are you gonna tuck me away in
one of those overly priced, cushy rehabs in hopes talking about my feelings
will cure me and cause me to spew out Grammy worthy material?”
    “No
one is being fired, and I don’t think you need rehab, Ireland,” she replies, taking
a seat in the large, fluffy, red chair by the window. Cocking her head to the
side as she studies me, she crosses one leg over the other. “I could be wrong,
but I don’t see addiction when I look at you. I see someone who hasn’t figured
out her place in life yet and is going about finding it the wrong way.”
    “Good
to know,” I deadpan, crossing my arms over my chest. “What about the label?” I
ask, knowing that she has yet to mention their reaction to this morning’s
trending topics on social media and Sunday reading material. I also know that
they can’t be too pleased since I signed a moral’s clause when I joined the
band.
    “I’ve
assured all necessary parties that the issue is being handled in house,” she
says, pushing to her feet. “That was enough, this time.”
    “Thank
you,” I reply, sighing in relief.
    “Don’t
thank me yet,” she counters. “We still have a lot of tour left. I expect you to
prove that you belong here.” Leaning up in the chair, she pushes to her feet. Heading
for the door, she glances at me over her shoulder. “Bus pulls out in twenty.”
    ***
    After
rushing through the fastest shower ever, I hurriedly dress while shoving my
shit into my bag. Henry is waiting outside the door for me the moment I open it
and has no problem rushing me downstairs to where the bus is parked. The other
guard, Mike, is loading things up with the help of some of the road crew.
    “Where’s
Jared?” I ask Henry when I don’t see him helping. Looking around the parking
lot, I brace myself for the man to jump out of a bush and scare the hell out of
me. “Someone needs to tell Sargent Sourpuss it’s too early for these