✘ Four Seasons Hotel:
Philadelphia, PA
Comcast Center
Nov 2nd

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

For the third time in less than ten minutes, Ray Kenobi checked her phone.

The digits read 6:00 am.

"C'mon, guys," she muttered under her breath.

The early crisp air managed to nip the sliver of skin visible beneath her cropped hoodie, pebbling her skin. She curled her hands up into the soft sleeves, rubbing her legs together in her favored worn jeans, if just to create heat from the friction.

It was not the most suitable attire for the month of November. But this was the crack of dawn. She didn't have it in her to dig through her suitcase for a more appropriate look. Her thick red hair tangled easily at such a time, often pulled up and out of her face in a haphazard bun that had seen better days.

Ray Kenobi was not a morning person.

However, as this job required her to be up before the rest of society, she'd been forced to adapt within the last 200 or so days.

200 days of ungodly early mornings, boundless cups of coffee, and an endless battle of wills against a certain lead guitarist. 

With a groan, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, adjusting the thick glasses perched on her nose for the second time. Her eyes already burned with fatigue, and she hadn't even put her contacts in yet.

The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, the lights of Philadelphia illuminating the vast cityscape. A rich layered olfactory of scents from the last remnants of Autumn still permeated the urbanized city, surrounded by glimmering skyscrapers reflecting the pale light of dawn.

The tour bus remained idled just behind her.

It was a massive beast, painted a sleek black with the band's skull emblem and name, The OutLanders. Emblazoned on the side the bold, silver letters refracted off the light. The interior was a mix of luxury and practicality: plush leather seats, a mini kitchen, and a few bunks crammed into the sides. The faint smell of coffee and last night's pizza still lingered as the doors swung open, a testament to the band's chaotic lifestyle.

The driver who was also part of the security, a bald, no-nonsense man named Big Jim, leaned against the side. Thick, stippled arms crossed over a burly chest that visibly showcased his former service in the Marines.

"Give the order and believe me," he started gruffly, "I'll go flip over their mattresses to get their asses out myself, Ray."

Ray passed Big Jim a smirk. "They have about three minutes left. But believe me, it's tempting for a certain Skywalker. I believe he has certain, company."

Big Jim cocked a bushy brow. The small faucet of diamonds in his earring, glimmered beneath the lamplight as he shook his head. "Fucking hell, Skywalker. The punks worse than a barracks rat."

Ray's brow furrowed in question for which he was quick to explain. "It's a slang used for women that were passed along soldiers in the barracks. Of their own volition, of course."

Her brow rose in question. "And were you one of them?"

  He smirked, "I don't kiss and tell, Ray."

"Sure," she snorted sarcastically and shrugged. "It's the man in a uniform schtick; drives all women crazy. Not much different from the appeal of a rockstar apparently." She leaned against the bus tightening her arms across her chest.  "Let's just hope it's not a stalker this time. New York City was such a headache with that restraining order...way too much paperwork for my liking."

"Well, he's just going to have to be reeled in if that's the case," he stated gruffly. "Seems he's a magnet for the nutcases..."

They shared a look, not having to say the obvious aloud.

Ahead, the gilded doors to the Four Seasons Hotel swung open.

Finally, Anakin emerged with a large duffle slung over one shoulder, looking every bit the edgy rocker, even at this ungodly hour. His medium-length, wavy blonde hair was tucked beneath a black snapback, those cobalt eyes immediately finding Ray's from across the lot. A black leather jacket was donned over a faded Minor Threat hoodie and jeans. A silver hoop glinted in his left ear beneath the golden lamplight that dappled the asphalt. 

A woman with porcelain skin was draped over the opposite arm, looking every inch a dark beauty Ray had, since, deduced as Anakin's type. Long blue-black hair cascaded down her back in a loose ponytail, her heavy-lidded eyes an asset to her sultry allure. A leather dress hugged her curvaceous form complemented by velvet thigh-high boots.

  Ray would never understand how a woman could look that perfect at this hour.

  The woman snaked her arm territorially through his, further pulling him into her side as they approached.

Ray clenched her jaw, already annoyed. Trust me, he's all yours girl.

The fresh spiced aroma of his cologne permeated the remaining distance. As he pointedly raised a brow, Ray shifted from one foot, and straightened her posture. "A reminder, Skywalker...the schedule still applies. Bus is now loading."

Big Jim moved to take his bag with a grumble, shooting Anakin a disgruntled look as it was passed to him to be stowed in the luggage compartment beneath the bus.

Anakin shrugged, a cold, dismissive look in his eyes. "Relax. We'll make it up on the road." He turned to the woman with a smug, icy smile. "This is Ray, our tour manager. She's a real fucking tight ass whose little job is to keep us in line."

His tone dripped with contempt, every word a calculated jab.

Ray fought to keep a neutral expression, sweat collecting inside one palm that was clenched around her phone. It was a wonder she hadn't cracked the screen yet.

The woman gave a cursory and quick dismissive glance with a chortle as she moved forward. "Clearly."

Ray side stepped to block the entrance of the bus with a steely gaze, clenching her jaw as she smacked a hand against the doors. "No groupies on the bus. No exceptions."

Her voice carried an edge of unmistakable authority as she leveled a glare at Anakin.

He mirrored her gaze as his lips parted to refute when the last two of his bandmates approached.

Maul, with his intense gaze and muscular frame honed from years as a skilled drummer, looked like he hadn't slept in days with the shadows dusted under his eyes. His maroon long sleeve clung to his sculpted chest, his jeans ripped at the knees. He nodded at her in greeting, the gages in his ears like polished, onyx stones.

Despite his rough exterior, there was a calmness about him that Ray found reassuring. He kept the band grounded, especially when it came to dealing with the moody, lead guitarist. "C'mon, An," Maul patted Anakin's shoulder, his voice resonating with a deep, gravely timbre that still held remnants of exhaustion. "Stop giving Ray shit, we gotta get a move on."

Kit was the opposite.

Always in high spirits that matched his carefree persona as lead singer of the band. His wavy chestnut locks stuck out beneath his thick beanie, donned in a hemp sweatshirt and track sweats. He blew out a lungful of smoke from the purple vape dangling from one hand, a joke ready to be fired from the tip of his tongue as he grinned.

"Ray looking like our ray of sunshine as always!" He grinned, a visible dimple surfacing in a rich olive complexion, a stark contrast to Maul's pallor. "Let's not keep the lady waiting, An!"

Ever the bold flirt, he shot Ray a wink. The smoked scent of vanilla trailed behind as she allowed him to pass up the steps, following after Maul.

"Okay, you've made your point," Anakin said in a low, condescending voice, a tight-lipped smile stretched across his lips as he eyed her. "We are on a schedule, remember? Fucking move, so we can get on the bus."

He wrapped a long arm around his flavor of the night's hip and drew her in close, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from the raven brunette.

Ray exhaled a shaky breath through her nose, shoulders pulled back. She refused to be intimidated. With a dark chuckle, her eyes swept over the woman on Anakin's arm before sweeping back to meet the towering guitarist's cold expression.

  A devious plan formed.

"You know, I'm just trying to look out for you, Anakin."

The overly light voice in which she used; a feigned innocent sweetness, immediately raised his guard. She saw his brows furrow, a flash of wariness in those dark eyes— as if trying to decipher her true intentions.

"How-" He began before Ray swiftly interjected.

"Weren't you the one who asked us to ban girls from entering the bus?" She continued in a lofty tone, head cocked to the side. "So, you could...oh what was it...fuck them and leave them in the dust?" She lifted her eyes to the pale skies, a finger pressed to her lips in a faux ponder. The particularly grotesque sentiment, he'd established at the beginning of the tour.

Anakin's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with murderous intent as they bore into the bemused redhead. The air between them thickened, a volatile silence hanging like a thread ready to snap.

It lasted only a heartbeat before a sharp, involuntary gasp of revulsion sliced through the tension, tearing at the fragile stillness with a palpable intensity.

"Excuse me?" The woman seethed, whipping around to face Anakin with a smack of her palm. "You said I was the best you've had."

Anakin's eyes shuttered in irritation as he let out a frustrated breath.

Ray's lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk as the drama unfolded.

"And you believed me." Anakin shot back as a retort, eyes snapping open to roll with exaggerated mockery.

The woman scoffed, taking a step back from him with clear disdain.
"You really are a dick," she spat.

"It's too fucking early for this."

Anakin's eyes snapped to Ray's, fury blazing in those azure eyes.

Ray knew her work was complete as she met Anakin's scathing expression, one brow arched in equal challenge.

  Checkmate, Skywalker.

She turned on her heel and brought the bed her palm to the tinted door with a twack three times. With a distinct hiss the doors swung open, Ray making her way up the steep steps acutely aware of the burn of Anakin's gaze on her backside.

Big Jim had taken his seat at the helm of the bus, one arm draped across the steering wheel with a questioning incline of his brow.

"He'll be just a minute." Ray, nodded in the direction of where the infamous guitarist stood with a bored, aloof expression as the woman tore into him.

"And her?" Big Jim asked, eyes glancing down at the heated, yet one-sided conversation that seemingly echoed across the parking lot.

"She's staying behind." Ray replied with an amused crinkle of her nose, not even attempting to hide her satisfaction.

"They never learn do they..." Big Jim muttered under his breath, repositioning himself in his seat as he adjusted the headlights.

Ray shook her head with a soft chuckle, her footsteps muffled against the worn carpet as she navigated through the narrow bunk area of the tour bus. The dim lighting cast long shadows, making the space feel slightly cramped. She reached out and pressed a small button on the wall, the soft click barely audible over the hum of the engine. The hidden panel slid open, revealing a compact kitchenette, where the scent of stale coffee and lingering traces of last night's snacks mingled in the air.

Maul was slumped over the small, scarred table, his arms crossed beneath him to form a makeshift pillow. His breathing was deep and steady, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. The dim overhead lights flickered slightly, casting an amber glow over the ostentatious space. The tour bus's interior was a mix of worn red leather with posters and stickers from countless cities plastered haphazardly on the walls. The air smelled faintly of sweat, old beer, and the unmistakable scent of stale cigarettes.

Careful not to disturb the worn-out drummer, Ray slid into the seat across from him, the vinyl bench creaking softly under her weight as she tried to make as little noise as possible.The incessant buzz of her phone had her digging into her pocket, pulling out the device that never seemed inclined to give her a moment of peace. Already, she had over a dozen missed texts and unanswered emails. From tour employees, to vendor partners, to the press, there was always someone who needed catering to.

Life on the road was a constant with very few moments to breathe in between the chaos

Yet it was a text from a certain number that caught her eye amidst the flurry of messages.

Direct and just as impersonable.

Just heard about Rolling Stone. Good work. Make sure it comes through.

The text was from her father.

Ben Kenobi.

Even though she preferred to put as much distance between herself and her father as possible, she couldn't shake the childlike compulsion to make him proud. Not even graduating college with a 4.0 had earned her a simple text from him.

She couldn't remember the last time he had tossed even the smallest kernel of approval her way.

This was as close as she'd ever gotten, and she had accomplished it all on her own. Securing a print and digital feature for The Outlanders with the Rolling Stone magazine. Complete with a full interview and cover shoot, something the band had been chasing for years. Because of Ray's unrelenting effort following up on every lead she uncovered to contact the famed magazine, it was finally happening for them.

However, while the feature would be monumental for the band, it also represented the biggest challenge they had ever faced. For her, it was more than just a professional milestone—it was an opportunity to prove herself. Something significant enough to finally break through her father's wall of detached indifference and make him see her as more than just another face in fast-paced industry.

Tucking her lip in between her teeth, her thumbs poised to send a reply to her father, the sound of angry footsteps stole her focus.

Anakin finally appeared in the landing of the bus, alone.

The dim lights refracted off a raised, pink welt across a cheekbone as clear evidence of a recent slap to the face. Ray ducked her head to hide her smirk, but it was at that exact moment their eyes met.

Those eyes were filled with such intense loathing it twisted her gut. While Anakin wouldn't physically hurt her, he wasn't above a verbal attack.

And he made sure she knew it.

"Fuck you," He growled through clenched teeth, closing the distance between them in two long strides, a finger pointed accusingly towards her. "You and your fucking rules."

Maul groaned at the sudden commotion and lifted his head ever so slightly, raising a debative eyebrow at his clearly irate friend.

Anakin leaned over, his 6"3 frame nearly swallowing her in his shadow, clenching the edge of the table with a knuckled grip. "Do they make you feel important, Kenobi? Like your job is anything other than daddy's pet fucking project?"

Ray swallowed hard, refusing to allow Anakin to see how his low blow had made contact with her waning self-esteem.

Maul now straightened to a seated position, watching the interaction carefully, ever the silent observer.

It would take more than a verbal spat between Ray and Anakin for him to get involved.

"You should really get some rest, Anakin." Ray said in a firm tone, seemingly taking his insults on the chin as she held Anakin's fiery gaze. Unbeknownst to him, beneath the table, she had dug her fingernails into the tender skin of her thigh, a coping mechanism she relied on during stressful situations.

Anakin scoffed none the wiser, shaking his head at her attempt to assert a semblance of authority.

"You're a fucking joke." He, straightened, standing to his full height before he stormed away without so much as a second glance back.

It was only when Ray heard the door that led to the bunks slam shut—silently sending an apology out to Kit for disturbing his sleep— did she let out a shaky breath, keeping her eyes glued to the door now separating them. She would've been lying to herself if she denied these daily disagreements hadn't begun to wear on her, chipping away at her self-worth a little at a time.

Maul shifted in his seat, causing Ray to surface from her thoughts, meeting Mauls shadowed, emerald eyes and practically cringed at the pity she found there.

"He's going through withdrawals, if that makes it any better," he said softly with a brittle smile, his fingers sweeping back the short ebony hair he kept longer in the front.

Ray forced a smile and nodded, appreciating his attempt to soften the callous blow she'd taken. But even Anakin's drug habit couldn't temper the harsh truths that already occupied her mind.

Anakin saw right through her, sober or not. Which was exactly why she needed this Rolling Stone feature. If anything, to shove it in his face and then to quiet the voice in the back of her mind that was dead set on tormenting her.

She knew it wouldn't come easy, given Anakin's history with the press. But he was going to sit for that god damned interview.

She would make damn sure of it.

Kate and I want to thank you all for your continued support. So how was that first chapter? Let us know we love your input!

See you on the next leg of this tour. Thinking of putting up fake tour dates 😉🖤

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