Текст книги "Loving Dallas"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

15 | Dallas

I’M SEEING SPOTS. BRIGHT ONES. BLINDING ONES.

Cameras flash from directly in front of me as I pose with fans.

Fans.

I have fans.

It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around. The band had a few regulars who attended shows at certain bars, but I think that was more about the bars than us.

“Thank y’all for coming out,” I say to two girls wearing matching If Lost Return to Dallas Walker T-shirts. Melissa and Jessica, I think they said their names were. But I still can’t get over the fact that I have shirts. “Love the shirts, by the way.” I wink and they laugh, the blond one turning a little red in the face.

Some fans are sweet like that.

And some are a little more than sweet.

“Remember me?” A brunette with a wide smile stands beside me for her picture.

I try to place her face but I can’t. “Um . . .”

“Chandra. I saw your band play in San Antonio last year. I was in town visiting a friend. We hung out after your show.”

“Did we?” I put my arm around her shoulders like I’m supposed to for the picture. “Sorry. It’s been a crazy year.”

“I can imagine,” she says softly, pressing her full breasts firmly into my side. “Congratulations, by the way. My sorority sisters and I are your number-one fans. Your album is going to blow Jase Wade out of the water.”

“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath while we smile for the photo, I rack my brain trying to remember playing San Antonio last year. Nothing memorable comes to mind, but judging from the knowing look in her eyes and how forward she’s being with my body right now, she might have carnal knowledge of me.

Damn. This is not good.

I make a mental note to ask Mandy what I should do in these situations. I haven’t exactly been a saint and the last thing I want to do at this point in my career is get a reputation as a player or an asshole.

She bats her eyelashes at me. “Will I see you after the show tonight? Some of us are going to a bar called Kelly’s. You should come.”

Her eyes meet mine on the last word and I’m pretty sure I don’t imagine the innuendo.

“Um, I don’t know.”

After an awkward pause, she says, “I’ll text you.” Then she gives me a lingering look full of dirty promises and moves aside so the next person in line can get their picture made.

My phone buzzes a few times in my pocket and I check it once the line has subsided.

Someone with the number 555-213-9857 has sent me several messages. One of them is a picture of me and Chandra, the overzealous fan, at a bar. My arms are around her and she’s kissing me on the cheek. I’m holding up a beer and from the looks of it, I’m blitzed.

There’s no telling what happened after that picture was taken.

Well . . . fuck.

My set went well, amazing actually, and Wade pulled me back out onstage to sing with him at the end of his, which was new.

“We’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to get to know each other,” he says to me after we finish the encore. “Come grab a drink with me.”

“All right.”

“Relax, man,” he says, thumping me hard on the back. “We’ll have a few beers. Talk a little. Think of it as an icebreaker.”

I’m too amped up to go pass out on the bus anyway. But I wasn’t prepared for male bonding, either. I like to let my music do the talking for me. If Jase Wade wants to stay up and paint each other’s nails, he’s on tour with the wrong guy.

“I could go for a beer,” I say, because what the hell. One beer won’t hurt. And I’m not an idiot. Jase Wade didn’t get voted last year’s Entertainer of the Year for nothing. There’s probably a lot I could learn from him.

Arick, the drummer in Wade’s band, high-fives us as he passes. “Hey, man, great show,” he says to me. “Y’all heading to Kelly’s?”

“Yeah,” Wade answers him.

Aw, hell.

“You know, I just remembered I have to—”

“Shave your legs? Call your mama? Come on, Walker. It’s a few beers at a bar. We promise not to slip you anything.” Jase Wade eyes me warily.

I’m coming off like a prick. I hardly talk to anyone and I’m being a pussy about grabbing a beer.

I swallow hard and nod. “Right. See y’all there.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Wade tells me. “Ride with us.”

I follow him onto his bus and take a seat on one of the black leather couches. Wade grabs two beers from his built-in fridge, uses the counter to pop the tops off both of them, and hands one to me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a nice long drink. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until the crisp fizzy liquid hit my tongue.

“So, tell me about yourself, Walker.”

I set my beer down as the bus rumbles to life. “What do you want to know, Wade?”

He grins and tips his own beer back. “Oh, I don’t know. Where you from?”

“Amarillo. You?”

“Lake Park, Georgia. It’s tiny. You haven’t heard of it. How long you been playing guitar?”

“Since I was twelve or so.”

“Sorry, I haven’t been keeping up with your birthdays. How old are you?”

He’s fucking with me. But I’m not that easy to rattle. “Twenty-four. You?”

“Thirty-two.”

I thought he was younger than that for some reason. I tell him so.

“I’m young at heart,” he says with a grin. “You like football?”

“College football mostly. But I catch a Cowboys game now and then.”

He nods like he’s really interested in my answers. “I’m a Bulldogs fan myself. You hunt? Fish?”

“My grandpa took me a few times when I was a kid. I didn’t have a hell of a lot of patience for it.”

He laughs. “Yeah, me, either. Mostly I drink beer and shoot at trees when we go. Not that I have much time for that these days.”

“I bet.”

We take an almost simultaneous drink to fill the silence that follows. Fuck this is awkward. This is why I don’t socialize with people.

“Well, hell. I’m out of questions.” Wade shrugs then his eyes light up. “Nope. Just thought of another one.”

“By all means,” I say drily.

“You got a girl back home?”

Robyn’s face flickers in my mind. Mandy’s words about Wade requesting her on this tour accompany the image my head. “Nah. I got a sister and that’s the only woman I answer to.”

“She hot?”

“She’s a lesbian.”

“Ah.”

“I’m kidding. But I’d break both of your legs before letting you near her.” Maybe I should’ve broken my best friend’s before he got anywhere near her. I try not to think about what Gavin and Dixie may or may not be doing back in Amarillo.

Wade nods. “Good man. I got a daughter, so believe me, I get it.”

Well, this is news. “I didn’t know that. That you had a kid.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t advertise it. No reason all this insanity should keep her from having a normal life, you know?”

“Makes sense.”

“You don’t like to talk much, do you?”

“Not particularly.”

He grins again and tosses his empty bottle in the trash before grabbing another one. “You know, I was you once.”

“Excuse me?”

“Young. Hungry for this. For the road and the fame and the music.”

I frown at him. “You’re not anymore?”

Jase Wade takes a deep breath and a long look around the bus. It’s a nice fucking bus. His band is at a back table playing cards and drinking beer and joking around loudly.

“It’s hard to be hungry for something you get force-fed every day, you know?”

I don’t know, so I shrug and finish off my beer.

“You’ll see. One day. You’re a talented kid. Won’t be long until you’re sitting in my place watching some guy remind you of yourself and wishing you could give him the advice you wish someone had given you.”

“You’re not going to give me any advice?”

He smirks at me. The bus comes to a stop so he stands. “Would you take it?”

We both know the answer so I don’t bother saying no out loud.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go get shitfaced.”

The bus is parked in a lot across the street from the bar and I catch sight of Mandy coming off my bus. I jog over to her.

“Hey. Sorry. I rode with Wade.”

She barely glances up from her phone. “I know. He told me he was going to talk to you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I had a question, though?”

Mandy stops walking. “About?”

“Women.”

She laughs. “Really? You seem like you understand women just fine.” She steps closer to me, letting the members of my band pass us. “But I’m happy to answer any questions you have, Dallas. Shoot.”

I clear my throat “Not what I meant, exactly. I mean, like, fans who . . . um . . .” I’m not comfortable saying this kind of thing to a woman—not one I have no plans to be intimate with, anyway.

“Offer to suck your dick?”

All right then. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to be an asshole to them. And some have met me before and I don’t remember if—”

“Oh, Dallas. Brace yourself, Superstar. All of your slutty skeletons are about to come out of the closet. The more attention you get, the more aggressive they’ll get. Everyone will know you somehow and they either want something or they want to give you something. Their demo. A song they wrote for you. A blow job. You just have to decide which favors you want to accept.”

“Um, okay. So if I don’t want their favors? How do you suggest I handle that?”

“We’ll meet with your new publicist after the tour to discuss this further. But for now, I’d say just be your polite, gentlemanly self.” She pauses to give me a salacious grin. “You’ve managed to keep out of my bed for this long. I’m sure you can handle a few groupies.”

She nudges me as if she’s just kidding, but the wicked glint in her dark eyes suggests she isn’t.

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” For making this as uncomfortable as possible. Oh how I wish Mandy Lantram would stop screwing with me and just be my manager.

Wade gives me a knowing look as I follow him into the bar. I don’t know his history with Mandy, but he certainly has one. Maybe I’ll ask him about it during our next Q&A session if there is one.

Kelly’s is a decent-sized pub-style bar and it’s packed. I check my phone once we’re inside.

Robyn hasn’t texted me back. It bothers me more than it should. Because I’m obviously a chick now.

I scroll through our previous messages while waiting in line to order a drink. I was just messing around earlier, texting her stupid lyrics about ditching me. But as I read back through them, I can almost hear the beat in my head.

“What can I get ya, handsome?” A woman with curly copper-colored hair is waiting for my order. I start to get a beer and a burger, but I remember what Robyn said about Papa and heart disease so I order a light beer and a buffalo chicken wrap instead.

“For someone who doesn’t have a girl, you sure are worried about that phone,” Wade says from beside me. I hadn’t noticed he was there.

“You really this interested in getting to know me? Or is there something specific you want to ask?”

Please do not ask me about Robyn Breeland.

He narrows his eyes, but before he can ask anything else, a body crashes into mine, nearly spilling my beer.

Thin arms wrap around me and a mouth fastens to the side of my face. What the fuck?

I steady myself, pulling back far enough to see Chandra attaching herself to me like an octopus.

“Dallas! Oh my God! You made it!” she squeals in my ear. “We have to get another picture together. My friend Allie is gonna take it. Smile!”

I force a quick grin just in time for the flash.

“Thanks! Come sit with us.” Her fingers clasp my free hand and she tugs.

“Actually I’m going to hang out with these guys,” I say, pulling free and nodding toward where Wade is.

“Nah. We’re good. Go ahead, Walker. We’ll save you a seat.” Wade winks like he’s doing me a favor. There’s amusement playing on his face.

“Will you sign some stuff for us? Pretty please?” Chandra pouts surgically enhanced plump lips at me. A few other parts of her appear to be surgically enhanced as well.

“Sure,” I say, relenting, and let her lead me to the table where her friends are.

It’s probably for the best that Robyn didn’t answer my texts. It’s not like I can ask her out on Friday night, take her to a movie, and all that for as long as we both shall live. I tell myself to be thankful for the memory of something real while I’m facing a future full of something fake.

As much as I hate to admit it, there is something flattering about the fact that Chandra wants my autograph and didn’t seem the least bit interested in Wade.

I’m just asshole enough to care.

16 | Robyn

WHEN KATIE TEXTS ME THAT SHE’S UPLOADED THE MEET-AND-GREET photos from the show in Kansas City, I can’t resist opening them on my flight back home.

My flight back to Dallas.

You know what’s a dumb idea? Living in a city with the same name as your ex-boyfriend.

The first set of photos is Wade and a long string of posed pictures with his adoring female fans. I forward the best ones to Harvey on the social media team with a note to post them to the Midnight Bay website, as well as the Facebook and Twitter accounts.

The next group shows Dallas and there are nearly as many fan photos. A candid shot Drew took of his line shows that it’s nearly as long as Jase’s. I’m happy for Dallas and I’m relieved to see he’s not the tour underdog. But a few of the women in some of the photos have my insides twisting into knots.

Some of them are drop-dead gorgeous and have their bodies plastered onto Dallas like cling wrap. One in particular wears an expression that makes me cringe.

He’s not yours, Robyn.

Right. He’s not.

As much as it pains me to do so, I include the smoking hot brunette picture in the ones of Dallas that I send to Harvey. It’s a really good picture and it shows how very desirable he is. I can do this. I can be an adult about working with my ex.

But I might print myself a copy of that photo and throw darts at it in my office just for fun.

“Eleven percent. How crazy is that?”

“What? What’s eleven percent?” I lift my head off my desk when Katie barges in. Thank goodness it was her and not one of the Martins that caught me napping.

“Were you asleep?”

“No.” My answer is negated by the giant yawn that follows.

“You all right?” Katie’s round blue eyes are filled with concern.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Between Denver and L.A. and my layover getting delayed, I got in really late last night. I’m just a little drained.”

“I wondered why I didn’t hear you come in. I might have some ginseng tea in the break room. Oh, and I have ginkgo drops in my purse.”

“Thanks. I promise I’m good. Just need some good old-fashioned caffeine and more rest.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You were saying something about eleven percent when you came in and caught me drooling on my desk?”

Katie laughs. “Oh yeah. I just ran into Louis from the finance department. He said they’ve been tracking the numbers closely since the tour kicked off so that Mr. Martin could evaluate the effectiveness of sponsoring it. And apparently, since the ads started running the week before the Denver show, sales are already up eleven percent.”

“Wow.” Eleven percent is a much larger increase than what our standard advertising typically generates. And it’s only been a few weeks since the promos went out that showed us as a tour sponsor, so it’s even more impressive.

“Apparently Jase Wade fans are big bourbon drinkers.” Katie plops down in the seat across from my desk. “Who knew?”

“That’s fantastic. I’m going to email Louis really quick and see if I can get a copy of the exact numbers. Are we running any other ad campaigns right now?”

“Just the ‘Make the Right Call’ spots about calling for a ride if you’re too drunk to drive. And the print and digital promos we’ve been doing every month.”

I send a quick email to Louis with my request. But if this is correct, if being a sponsor on the Kickin’ Up Crazy tour is upping sales this much this quickly, it’s one of the highest returns on advertising investment we’ve ever seen.

Which means a few things. One being that this is a route we definitely want to continue taking, sponsoring tours. And the other I try not to think about. Because if I value this company and my job at all, the last thing I should be doing is engaging in an inappropriate relationship with someone on the tour.

If it got out that Dallas and I had a history, there would be all kinds of questions about why Midnight Bay was sponsoring the tour he just happened to be on. The nature of relationships between artists and sponsors should be of a strictly professional and business nature. The public discovering that we’d slept together in Denver would reflect poorly on Midnight Bay. It might not get me fired necessarily, but it would probably cause me to at least be questioned by my boss and possibly his sixty-two-year-old uncle about topics I never want to discuss with either of them. Ever.

I say a silent thank-you to the universe that Dallas isn’t currently famous enough to have paparazzi following him around. Then I feel bad for feeling glad that he isn’t famous yet.

“You are so in your head right now,” Katie says, startling me as I chew my manicure to hell while waiting on Louis’s response. “What’s the deal? I thought an eleven percent bump in sales would be great news.”

“It is.” I nod. “I’m just a little worried about . . . you know.”

“Your little fling with Mr. Hotpants?”

I roll my eyes. “Very funny. Not exactly. I’m more worried about our history coming to light. I’m the one who pushed us to sponsor this tour and then I outright begged Mr. Martin to put me on the promo campaign. If it comes out that I have a prior history with Dallas, it might get complicated.”

Katie looks at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “How so?”

“There were two acts previously scheduled to be on the tour that were asked to leave for undisclosed reasons. Dallas took the open spot. It might look like I was involved in that, or like I used company dollars as leverage to get him on the tour.”

“But you weren’t and you didn’t. You worry too much, girl. You want to get a drink after work?”

Katie stands to leave, and while I could probably use some girl time, I really am exhausted. “I think I’m just going to go home and crash. Tomorrow, though, I’m in.”

“Sounds good.”

Katie leaves and the email I’ve been waiting for comes through. I’m lost in sales numbers when my phone chimes with a text notification.

I tear my eyes from my computer long enough to locate my phone to my left.

She won’t answer my texts. Won’t take my calls. It’s probably all my fault.

What I don’t know is what I did to get myself on her do not answer list.

Hit me up, girl. Or just hit me.

I can take it, whatever you have to say. Anything you wanna throw my way.

Whether it’s a call you back soon or right hook. Give me what you got.

More lyrics courtesy of Dallas.

At least he’s writing, I guess.

I set my phone down and rub my temples for a few minutes.

I’m not avoiding him. That would be childish. I’m just avoiding . . . it. This thing between us that I can’t explain or contain.

My travel-lagged brain is too tired to compute a response.

I’ll text him after work.

I will.

Or maybe after I get home and take a nap.

I just have to figure out what in the world I’m going to say.

Thanks for the hot sex but I don’t think we should make it a habit seems kind of harsh.

I’m ignoring you because I don’t want to lose my job for sleeping with you doesn’t really work, either.

Should I just book one room for us to share from now on? is what actually comes to mind.

No. It was a fling. A temporary rekindling of a flame that has long since burned out and nothing more. Because that’s all it can be.

A drink with Katie is suddenly sounding a whole lot more appealing. And necessary.

17 | Dallas

“I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOU’D DROPPED OFF THE EARTH.”

“Yeah, well, some days that would be an improvement.”

“You all right, Garrison? The man gettin’ you down?”

Gavin huffs out a breath and then I hear him tell someone in the background to hang on a fucking minute. Okay then. Clearly he isn’t hanging out with my sister at the moment. Or he has a death wish.

“I’m fine. Working at the Tavern. Still trying to get shit handled with my probation officer. I can’t really talk right now. But hit me up later. We’ll grab a drink when you’re in town.”

“It’ll be almost two months before the tour hits Texas. Quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“Robyn works for the tour sponsor. I saw her. I’ll be seeing a lot of her actually.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” I confirm.

Gavin laughs. “And you’re asking me for advice about Robyn? I know as much about relationships as I do—”

“No. That’s not what I’m asking about.” Though a part of me does wonder if he could give me some insight into why she blew me off after our night together, I know it’s best if I appreciate it for what it was and let it go. I’m partially relieved she never responded to my texts because the last thing I need to be on this tour is distracted. I’m partially pissed-off, too, but I’m ignoring that part of me.

“You’re losing me.”

I huff out a breath while doing a quick check of the bus to make sure it’s empty. “That’s not the issue exactly. The problem is I’m also running into some of my former . . .” I don’t know what to call them without being disrespectful.

“Questionable choices?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin chuckles low into the phone. “I bet, Big Timer. Probably coming at you by the truckload these days.”

“If it was funny I’d be laughing. I’m serious here. I don’t want to be known as the manwhore of country music.”

“I don’t mean to be dick, D. But really, what did you expect? This is the reason half the guys we know play music.”

“That include you, Garrison?” Dude who swears he loves my sister but has yet to tell me if he’s seen her.

“Nah. For me it’s about channeling aggression so I don’t walk around beating the fuck out of people on a daily basis. But for most guys, it’s about pussy. Period.”

“Well, I’m not most guys.” Why do I have to keep reminding people of this? Do I have “Johnny Guitar Player” tattooed on my fucking forehead?

“Right. So what’s the question exactly?”

“When you run into your . . . questionable choices, what do you do about it? How do you let them know you’re no longer interested without coming off like an asshole?”

Gavin laughs again. “There’s one major difference between you and me that you forgot to consider when consulting me for advice.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who thinks I’m an asshole.”

“I can think of one girl we both know who adamantly swears you’re not an asshole.”

“You obviously haven’t spoken to your sister lately. Look, man, I gotta get back to work. Keeping a job is part of my probation arrangement.”

“Hold up. Why? What happened to make Dixie change her mind? I thought you were running off into the sunset together and that’s why your ass isn’t on this tour with me.”

“It’s complicated, brother. Right now, she isn’t exactly speaking to me.”

I knew that was a possibility once he’d told her what happened while she was in college in Houston, but I figured they’d work it out eventually. “Christ, Garrison. Am I going to have to beat your ass when I come to town?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a maybe. Six weeks, man. I’ll be there in six weeks. You should probably get your shit straight with Dixie before I get there.”

“And here I thought you called me for advice.”

“That’s not advice. Or even a suggestion. You really care about her like you swore to me you did, then you do whatever it takes.”

“Working on it,” he says before I hear someone yelling at him to get the fuck back inside.

“Don’t get fired. I’ll hit you up later.”

“Later.”

After I disconnect the call I promptly dial my sister’s number.

She doesn’t pick up so I leave her a voice mail asking her to call me. She’s going to be pissed that I didn’t tell her Gavin was home. But I thought he was going to tell her. I thought he was getting his life together and that she’d be a part of that. Apparently I was wrong.

I hate being wrong.