Chapter Text
🔥🔥🔥
Nicole Haught was standing off to the side of the stage, watching the audience jump around like a bunch of crickets as the hard rock music was blasting from the giant speakers.
She adjusted her earplugs and wished she had taken the night off, or really just that she hadn’t taken this job at all.
It was the worst.
But yet, here she was, a bodyguard for one of the biggest rock stars in the country.
She hated it.
When Nicole felt someone nudge her, she turned and found Rosita rolling her eyes.
Nicole smiled and wrapped an arm around the other woman.
Rosita Bustillos was one of the few good things about the job. She was the band’s manager and was on the tour, trying to keep them out of trouble.
Brilliant and beautiful, and she had somehow managed to make this awful-sounding band popular.
Nicole thought she was a miracle worker, but Rosita couldn’t keep that group out of trouble no matter how many hexes she put on them.
She poked Nicole in the ribs then nodded toward the stage.
Knowing exactly what she was going to find, Nicole sighed before she looked up.
It was the same every night the band performed.
Every night some poor groupie would be at the front, pressing themselves against the stage in an attempt to get noticed, and then once they did, it was Nicole’s job to retrieve them.
She hated this part of the job the most.
When Nicole looked up, the lead singer, with a big goofy smile on his face, pointed to a pretty young woman standing at the end of the stage.
She seemed young. Too young.
Nicole tilted her head, silently asking the question.
Champ shrugged.
They had a rule. One rule that Nicole refused to break. All the women that Champ Hardy took back to the bus had to consent and had to be of legal age. And they had to be sober.
He called it the Haught Law. Nicole called it decent human behavior.
Then again, she wasn’t sure Champ was human, and he definitely was not decent.
Champ Hardy was a boy-man — a prick. His smile was too big. His hair was too perfect. His muscles were too big. He couldn’t sing for shit, but for some unknown reason, he was the lead singer of the band, and women wanted to be with him.
At least for about 8 seconds.
Nicole had timed it.
She huffed and dropped her arm from Rosita's shoulder.
Rosita pinched her side, a tight-lipped smile on her lovely face. She knew Nicole loathed this part of the job, and on more than one occasion, she had to beg Nicole not to quit over it.
She knew that the record label was pressuring Rosita to keep Champ happy. He was a moneymaker, and the label liked the money.
She also knew that Rosita was looking at other options, and once she found a new job, she would be gone.
Nicole was going with her.
Nodding her head slowly, Nicole started walking toward the crowd. She straightened her black suit jacket and put on her best smile. Not the dimpled one. That one was for happy times.
She jogged down the stairs, motioning with her hand for the young woman to come.
Nicole looked up at Champ. He had the mic close to his lips, but she could still see the smirk on his face.
He was wearing his standard concert attire — a muscle shirt, boxer briefs, and a cowboy hat. Nicole wondered if he thought he was Axel Rose or something, but at least Axel could sing. Champ sounded more like a cow in heat.
She shook her head, returning her focus to the young woman. She had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. She was beautiful for sure, but there was a hardness that told Nicole this probably wasn’t the woman’s first time being asked backstage.
Holding up the credentials around her neck, Nicole watched as the girl’s eyes narrowed, then a greasy smile eased across her lips.
Nicole moved the small security fence and let the woman walk through it before closing it again.
She pointed toward one of the security guards, telling him to make sure no one else tried to follow.
It had been the same routine since they arrived at the venue two days ago.
Nicole waited until the guard took his place and then turned to walk backstage. She looked over her shoulder to make sure the woman was following.
Once they reached an area further away from the wretched noise imitating from the speakers, Nicole turned and looked at the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Stephie.”
Sighing harshly, Nicole held out her hand. “Let me see your ID.”
She watched as the woman rolled her eyes but started digging through her purse. Nicole hoped Stephie was too young so she could send her back to the audience.
“Here,” Stephie huffed, handing the ID over to Nicole. “I’m old enough to have sex.”
Nicole looked at the ID. Stephanie Jones was twenty-two years old and too cocky for her own good.
Looking back at the stage, Nicole could tell Champ was watching. If only he cared more about his career than his penis, he might actually learn to sing. It was doubtful, but miracles did happen sometimes.
“Are you sure you want to spend time with Champ?” Nicole asked, eyes back to and focused on the girl. “And if you say you do want to spend time with him, that doesn’t mean you have to have sex with him. Just yell, and I will come.”
Stephie smirked. She placed her hands on Nicole’s arms, moving them slowly up and settling on her shoulders. “Why don’t you join us, and you can make me yell and come?”
It wasn’t the first time Nicole had been propositioned by one of the groupies. It happened more often than not, but she wasn’t interested in a one-night stand.
Nicole wasn’t interested in the groupies or anyone that was interested in Champ.
She was looking for someone to love. Nicole wanted to find someone who only wanted to be with her. Someone intelligent and kind. She was looking for her forever love.
“Thank you,” Nicole held up Stephie’s license, hoping the woman would remove her hands from Nicole’s shoulders. “But I’m going to have to pass this time.”
Stephie dropped her arms, taking the license. “Too bad because you are hot .”
And Nicole knew she was attractive. She had long, bright red hair, big brown eyes and had worked hard to keep her body tight and toned. Working out had been the only thing she had enjoyed during this tour.
As much as she didn’t like Champ, at least he was a good workout partner. They ran and lifted weights together every day. He was vain, but at least most days, he was serious about the workouts. It was the only time that Nicole liked spending time with the man.
Before Nicole could reply, the music stopped, and Stephie looked back to the stage. Her smile was more predatory than pretty at this point. There was a moment when Nicole wondered if Champ may have bitten off more than he could chew with this girl.
Nicole cleared her throat, attempting to gain Stephie’s attention. “Do you want to wait for Champ to go on the tour bus?”
She always gave the women one more chance to change their minds. Nicole got it. Women could do whatever they wanted with their body, she just wasn’t sure why they would want to do Champ.
“I do,” Stephie nodded. “I actually know Champ. We went to high school together but haven’t seen each other since we graduated.”
“Oh.” Nicole’s mouth fell open, then moved into a tight lip smile. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you.”
Nicole didn’t know anything about Champ’s life other than that he had a girlfriend at home. Someone he called his first groupie. She could only imagine the kind of person that would stay with Champ even though he was with a different girl every night, and almost every indiscretion was plastered over every magazine in the country.
“As long as Waverly isn’t here, we’ll have a great time.” Stephie rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s still with that loser.”
Nicole nodded her head at Stephie’s confirmation.
“Well, I’ve never met her, but yeah.” Nicole started walking toward the bus. She could hear heavy footsteps running toward them and knew it was Champ.
Stopping, she turned and watched the boy-man, with the too-big smile, skip toward them.
When he was close enough to see the person he had invited backstage, he stopped in his tracks. “Stephanie?”
Stephanie tossed her hair over her shoulder, hips swaying from side to side as she walked toward Champ.
A goofy grin eased across his face.
Nicole wanted to hurl.
“Hey, Champ,” Stephanie said, wrapping her arms around Champ’s neck. “Miss me?”
Champ giggled like a schoolgirl.
Nicole wanted to hurl…again.
“Waves is going to hate this one.” Champ wrapped his arm around Stephanie’s shoulder before looking back at Nicole. “Haught, bus time.”
Nodding, Nicole started walking Champ and Stephanie to the bus.
She hoped Rosita would be there when they arrived. Nicole was going to need a pep talk, and she didn’t want to have to spend the next hour on the bus alone with Champ and Stephanie.
There were other bodyguards on the tour, but Champ preferred Nicole. He wanted her with him all the time, which meant Nicole had to ride the bus.
At least, Rosita rode the bus most of the time. When she wasn’t on the bus, she was flying back to the office and staying in a hotel room—her own hotel room with privacy, a comfortable bed, a shower, and no Champ. She was jealous of Rosita on those nights.
Nicole loved when the band performed in the same city for multiple nights — because it meant she could stay in a hotel room, too. She could have a little moment of serenity.
The bus meant Nicole had to sleep in one of the side bunks. She had selected the one furthest away from Champ’s bed in the back lounge, and it had been her home for the last three months.
At least, the rest of the band had their bus, and other than the occasional sound from Champ’s room, it was pretty quiet.
“Haught!” Champ yelled over his shoulder. He pushed Stephanie inside the bus before turning to face Nicole. “Maybe I should pick someone else.” He started biting on his thumbnail. “Waves would really be mad about Stephanie.”
Nicole blinked.
She wanted to say the first thing that popped into her head…
Would Waverly not be mad about the 100 other girls you’ve slept with, doofus?
But opted for something Champ might understand. “Well, if Waverly knew about it and would be upset, then maybe you shouldn’t sleep with Stephanie.”
“Champ!” Stephanie yelled from deep inside the bus. “Your bed is in the back, right?”
Champ licked his lips. “You’re right, Haught. If Waverly doesn’t know, it’ll be okay.”
Nicole’s mouth fell open. She blinked a few times, trying to find the right words to rebuke the chump, but before she could reply, Champ jogged onto the bus.
Nicole stood there for a few minutes, staring at the floor because she couldn’t look at the door.
She almost felt sorry for this Waverly person.
Almost.
🌊🌊🌊
Waverly Earp was standing in the checkout line, waiting for her turn to pay for her groceries, looking at the magazines.
Champ was once again on the cover with one of his nightly conquests.
She ran her fingers over the gossip magazine before grabbing it and tossing it on top of her vegan cookies.
The cashier scanned the magazine and then looked up, frowning. “Waverly, are you sure you want to buy this crap magazine?”
The older woman’s kind eyes searched Waverly’s face, and it made her sick.
Waverly hated to be pitied.
It had happened her whole life. She assumed it was part of small-town life but knew it was mostly because of her family’s history.
Everyone knew everyone’s business.
The whole town knew her father was a mean drunk. They knew when her mother left.
The good town folk of Purgatory helped run off her sister, Wynonna, leaving Waverly with her aunt and uncle and the sister that never liked her.
They knew all her sad stories, and she hated every knowing look, sad smile, and sympathetic hug.
Waverly snatched the magazine from the cashier’s hand, a tight lip smile on her face. “Yes, please.” Shoving it into her bag, her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
Her aunt and uncle, Gus and Curtis, had raised Waverly to be polite. She was the good girl—the town sweetheart. Waverly had been voted the nicest person in Purgatory for three years running. She had a sash and everything.
It wasn’t the cashier’s fault that Champ was a cheater, but Waverly didn’t want her pity either. She didn’t need it. Waverly was stronger than they all knew and wiser too.
“Waverly,” the cashier smiled softly. “I’m sure it isn’t what it seems. You know how those reporters like to make up stories.”
Waverly nodded, loading her bags. “It’s fine. We aren’t together anymore. He can do whatever he wants to do.”
And they weren’t. Waverly had barely talked to her boyfriend in 3 months, and that was fine by her.
Champ was her high school boyfriend. He was the captain of the football team, played in a band, and everyone told Waverly she should be interested in him.
She was captain of the cheer squad, lead in all the plays, and an Earp.
Nobody wanted to date an Earp. Not until Champ.
So, Waverly and Champ dated all through high school and were technically still together — not that he acted like it, no matter what the cashier said.
Champ had cheated right under her nose when they were in high school, so Waverly was sure he was cheating now when he was hundreds of miles away.
It had been a surprise when Champ’s band, The Body, made it big over a year ago. They had entered one of those TV talent shows, and while they didn’t win, the attention they gained led to a deal with a big label.
And the rest had been history.
Champ asked Waverly to go on tour with him, but she said no. She would have loved to travel around the country but had no desire to spend time on a bus— with Champ. He looked relieved at her response, and she was relieved that he was leaving.
Waverly was sure he was already counting all the women he could bang.
Sighing quietly, Waverly picked up her reusable bags, threw them over her shoulder, and started walking toward Shorty’s.
It was a nice summer day, so she had left her prized fire engine red Jeep Wrangler at home. Purgatory was usually covered in snow, so whenever the sky was blue and the temperatures were above freezing, Waverly liked to walk.
She hummed some old country song as she walked down the street, waving and smiling at everyone she passed. After all, it was all in the smile and wave.
When she walked through the doors at Shorty’s, Waverly shook off the bad feeling that had settled inside her chest at the cashier’s comments. She carried her bags upstairs to her small apartment and started unloading her items.
Gus and Curtis owned the old western-style bar, and Waverly had worked there since before she was old enough.
When she turned eighteen, Waverly moved into the apartment above the bar. She worked every night serving drinks and every day took classes online. Waverly finished her degree around the same time Champ went on tour. It had been perfect timing.
So, instead of touring around with the boy who hoped that one day they would own a bar together in Bruno’s Aires, Waverly accepted a job teaching History at Purgatory High.
It wasn’t her dream job, but it was only the beginning, and Waverly planned to do bigger things than being Champ’s barmaid.
Once Waverly was finished placing all the items in their proper places, she sat at the table in the tiny kitchen areas and opened the magazine. She traced her finger over one of the pictures.
She wasn’t interested in Champ or the groupie that was attached to his lips.
Waverly had stopped caring about him a long time ago.
“Baby girl!” Wynonna banged on her door. “Open up! I have whiskey to share.”
Waverly chuckled.
One of the other reasons Waverly had said no to going on the tour with Champ was Wynonna. She had recently returned to Purgatory, and Waverly wanted to know her sister again.
“Coming!”
She opened the door, and Wynonna pulled her into a hug.
Waverly was glad she stayed.
“What is my favorite sister up to today?” Wynonna asked, sounding almost cheerful.
Wynonna moved inside the apartment, opening cabinets until she found two glasses. Her long dark brown hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue eyes focused as she turned to look at Waverly.
“Are we celebrating something?” Waverly asked as she moved back to the table. “You normally don’t share your whiskey or sound this happy. Did you get to shoot someone today?”
Pouring two glasses of the brown liquor, Wynonna grinned and pushed one of the glasses toward her sister.
She turned one of the chairs around, straddling it, and held up her glass, seemingly ignoring Waverly’s last question. “As a matter of fact, we are celebrating. The Homestead passed inspection, and I want you to move home with me.”
Waverly paused, holding her glass halfway toward Wynonna’s still upheld one.
“Nonna,” Waverly started.
“I know what you’re going to say, but he’s gone, and it’s time for us to move home. We can make it a real home. A place with good memories.”
Wynonna had changed. A lot.
After she left, she traveled the world, studied meditation, and found inner peace. It was all a little strange, and Waverly was trying to adjust. She reminded herself every day that she was lucky that her sister was even there.
Wynonna came back for Waverly. She wanted to heal their relationship and end the Earp curse that had claimed many members of their family.
Waverly clicked their glasses together and then took a sip of the Elijah Craig, closing her eyes as it burned the back of her throat.
She sat the glass down, tracing the rim. Waverly wanted to move home but was afraid of the memories that haunted her.
“Can I think about it?” she asked softly.
Nodding her head, obviously disappointed, Wynonna’s eyes dropped to the table. She reached over, then pulled the magazine from Waverly's hand and flipped through the pages.
“Why?” She looked up, frowning. “I thought you were going to dump Chump. Don’t let this shit bother you. You know I’ll kick his ass if needed.”
Wynonna's inner peace cracked on occasion, especially when it came to Waverly.
“No,” Waverly said, reaching for the magazine. “I haven’t changed my mind. I just…”
Wynonna’s eyes narrowed. “You just what?”
Waverly used her finger to retrace the picture. The redheaded woman was gorgeous, and there was something about her that made every fiber of Waverly’s body tingle.
When she first saw the redhead pictured with Champ, Waverly had asked him about her. There was something about the woman that made Waverly want to know more. It was more than that even. She needed to know more.
He had texted with one sentence. The only text that Waverly had kept from him.
Nicole Haught - The Body’s guard.
“I…I think that I’m going to go and tell him in person.” Waverly stuttered. “I’m going to go there and see…umm, yep.”
Wynonna’s eyes darted to the picture, grabbing the magazine again before looking at Waverly. A knowing smile eased across her face. “I think that would be a great idea.” She nodded, placing her hand over Waverly’s. “Go and see what you think.”
With her free hand, Waverly pulled up Champ’s text then quickly typed out a message before looking at Wynonna.
“Want to go with me?”
Wynonna pulled her hand back to her glass. “Hell yeah, I do. Let’s go check out the hot redhead.”
🔥🔥🔥
Rosita and Nicole were sitting on the couch toward the front of the bus when Champ stumbled out of the bedroom.
It was almost time for them to get on the road, so it was time for Stephanie to get off the bus. Champ never let the groupies ride with them, and hopefully, he had already told her to leave.
He looked around, wide-eyed, his cell phone in his hand. “Oh hell, the number one groupie is coming.” He looked at his phone again.“ Waverly will be here tomorrow. Haught, kick Stephanie out. I’m going to take a shower.”
Nicole rubbed her face and groaned. She didn’t mind telling Stephanie to leave. But, what she didn’t want to do on this tour was to have to worry about a jealous girlfriend.
“Great. A traveling groupie,” she grumbled.