Текст книги "Fade to Red"

Автор книги: Willow Aster

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

The fire lit in her eyes and she stepped back like she’d been hit.

“Tell Matt I missed him. You can see your way out.” Beckham pointed to the door, just as there was a knock.

Howie walked in and nodded at them both. “Your next appointment is here,” he said.

“Look, Mr. Woods, I just need a little more of your time, please. Can you … please give me a few more minutes?” She gave Howie a dismissive wave.

“I’m all out of minutes,” Beckham said. “Howie? Can you escort Miss Wethers out?”

Mirielle stood there for a few seconds, fuming. She looked at Beckham and then decided to change her tactics.

“Thank you for your time.” She leaned over, her chest rubbing against his as she kissed his cheek.

His breath caught and he stepped back. Mirielle smiled, at least part of her mission complete as she left the tour bus.

Going backstage after sound check, he went searching for the green room. He had junk food on the brain and needed to hunt some down. Opening the door, he realized he was in the wrong room right away, but then noticed movement in the corner. The room was sparse; a few speakers and cases were on the floor, and a couple of poles that went into the rafters of the exposed ceiling. Roxie was circling one and Beckham lost all rational thought when she jumped on it, landing high, and did the splits before winding her legs back around the pole and going upside down. She dropped and he jumped forward to help her, but she hadn’t fallen, she was just working her way back up the pole without ever touching the ground. Faster and faster and faster she turned, her legs flying and flawless. She moved until he was dizzy. Time leaped into fast forward motion and her movements spoke to him from somewhere cavernous. She slowed and her head faced the floor and her legs reached up to the ceiling … and then she was right side up again.

Oh please, don’t let it end. Beckham blinked and she was standing by the pole, circling it the way she had been when he came in.

He’d never seen anything so erotic and he’d seen plenty try. Nothing had ever come close to watching her.

She turned; her face radiant. Her mouth dropped when she saw him. He closed his mouth when hers opened.

She started to say something then stopped.

He stepped forward. “Roxie. That was … unbelievable.”

“Favorite class I’ve ever taken—pole dancing,” she said, blushing.

“You can’t be embarrassed. You were born to do that.” He pointed like an imbecile. She’d rendered him stupid. “Everyone deserves to see you on a pole,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“Not gonna happen,” she said.

“Just me then…” He let his eyes wander down her body again and nodded in appreciation. “Yeah, I’d prefer that too.”

She groaned, but he caught her smile right before she turned and left the room.

Anthony was right. The crowd went insane when Sparrow came onstage. They didn’t dance—it was all Ian could do to get her to come out in front of the crowd, but she let him serenade her. It had been a hit every night thus far and was something Ian looked forward to now in the show. He saw her standing to the side, waiting for her cue, and winked. She started out nervous each night but relaxed once she moved toward him. It was a song he’d written for her when they’d been broken up, not his usual gritty blues-filled soul, but his heart pouring out. It was no secret she’d brought out the sap in him. He smirked to himself … yeah, so much of a sap that it was a struggle for him to keep it together every night to sing the song.

The strings and guitar played the opening notes and Ian began to sing.

I remember once upon a time

When your heart and mine became entwined

A world of wonder testified that we were meant to be

It was this moment that Sparrow made her entrance, and the applause was deafening…

It was like a fairytale romance

Two enchanted lovers holding hands

We vowed that time and circumstance would never come between…

And now we’ve learned it’s not as easy as it seems

And real life can steal the magic from our dreams

But I believe true love was made for times like these

Sparrow’s eyes filled each time he got to the chorus. She gave him a shaky smile and he leaned over to give her a quick kiss, earning another roar from the crowd. Her skin was hot from being flushed and nervous.

And I believe in happy-ever-after

You and me and love will find an answer

Darlin’, this is not the final chapter of our true love story

  I remember warm December nights

Starry skies and snow-white mountain heights

Eyes that danced like candlelight to an ageless song

Snapshot memories of moments past

Come back like forgotten photographs

The love we made was made to last for a lifetime long

It’s true that life can do its damage to our dreams

And love is not always as easy as it seems

But I believe true love was made for times like these

  And I believe in happy-ever-after

You and me and love will find an answer

Darlin’, this is not the final chapter of our true love story

I may not be your knight in shining armor anymore

But I believe that we are still worth fighting for

If you’ll only kiss me and say that you’ll forgive me

I know we can get that magic feeling back once more

Before the last chorus, the music cut back and he stopped and held her against him as he sang it one more time. When the final notes rang out, he put his hands on her face and kissed her. He didn’t care if thousands of people were cheering or not. He lived to love this woman.

“You and me and love,” she whispered before walking away.

He felt that tug he always felt when she walked away—like he wanted nothing more than to run after her.

“I love you, baby!” He yelled in the microphone.

She laughed and flushed as everyone stomped and screamed.

Normally when he was done for the night, Sparrow and Journey were somewhere backstage, either hanging out in one of the green rooms or talking to Roxie and Sierra. Tonight, Sierra found him first and told him to hurry to the bus.

“Sparrow fell right after she walked off the stage. She says she’s fine, but her foot is bruised and huge.” She winced when she saw his face. “Anthony and a paramedic are with her now.”

He rushed through the parked buses until he reached theirs. He nearly ran over Anthony in his hurry. He was trying to console Journey, who stopped fussing when she saw Ian, reaching out for him to take her. She smiled at Anthony once she was in Ian’s arms, the little rascal. Anthony chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Ian moved past him and hurried to Sparrow. He kissed her cheek and assessed her eyes before he looked at her foot. He knew she hated crying in front of people, even him, but he couldn’t believe she wasn’t bawling. It was bad.

“Oh baby. It looks awful. You think it’s broken?”

She made a face. “I’m okay.” Her breath hitched when the paramedic put an ice pack on her foot. “It hurts, but it’s not terrible.” She swallowed hard.

“Yeah, not buying that,” he said.

“This is Tyler.” She motioned to the paramedic. “He’s pretty sure it’s just a bad sprain, and I think so too…”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevate.” Tyler’s voice was very low and fast, and he didn’t smile or blink. “She needs to rest it for at least 3 days. Do the ice in 15-20 minute intervals, with 40 minutes between intervals to prevent frostbite. I’ve compressed it, as you can see. Make sure when you wrap it again, it’s not too tight. And keep your feet elevated to at least your heart level, Sparrow.” He took a quick breath and kept going. “You can take both acetaminophen and ibuprofen. If it’s not feeling better in a few days, you’ll need to get an X-ray.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sparrow insisted. “Thank you, Tyler. I’m glad you were here.”

When Tyler left, Anthony and Sierra sat on the couch across from Sparrow.

“He was intense,” Sierra said.

Sparrow giggled. “Rest, ice, compression, and elevate,” she said, as low as her voice would go.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s Roxie,” she called.

Sierra opened the door and Roxie came in, looking worried.

“Are you okay? Did you tell Ian what happened?”

Sparrow stared at Roxie and shook her head. “I’m not even sure anymore,” she said softly.

“Sure of what?” Ian asked, frowning.

“It all happened so quickly, and I’m not positive—you know what a klutz I am!” Her arms flailed. “I just don’t know…”

“Would you please just tell me what happened?”

“I think I was tripped.” She bit her lip and looked down. “I’m not positive, so I hate to even accuse anyone, but Roxie thought she saw it too, before I even said anything.”

“Who?” Ian scowled. “You mean on purpose?”

She nodded. “Maybe she didn’t mean for me to get hurt, just wanted me to … look dumb, or something.”

“Who?” he repeated.

“Brooke.”

Ian gritted his teeth. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I knew she was trouble,” he muttered.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she keeps trying to be all up in my space, and I keep making it obvious I want no part of it.” He put his hand on Sparrow’s cheek and leaned in. “You know that, right?”

Sparrow smiled. “I do know,” she said softly. “I’ve seen her, and,” she motioned to the girls, “we’ve had a few discussions about her.”

“She didn’t like that one of the dancers wasn’t given a part on that song—she’s been saying that on the bus,” Roxie added. “I’m not sure what her game is … she’s all over Beckham too.”

“I’ll talk to Beckham, and I’m also gonna have a chat with Brooke.” Ian’s face was tight.

“No, she’ll just deny it! I’m not even positive myself!” Sparrow moved the pillows behind her, so she could sit up taller on the couch. “I’d rather stay out of her way, and if she so much as blinks at me wrong, I’ll take care of it.”

Ian snorted. “If you think I’m letting this go, you’re crazy.”

Sparrow glared at him.

Roxie cleared her throat. “We’re just a text away if you need us.” She motioned to Sierra and smiled at Sparrow. “For what it’s worth, I think you should listen to Ian.”

They left quickly and Ian turned back to Sparrow. “You really want to fight about this?”

“You really want to tell me I’m crazy in front of our friends?”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you did.”

He shook his head and Journey mimicked him, shaking her head too. He stopped and she stopped, then looked at him to see what they were doing next.

When he looked at Sparrow again, she was smiling at the two of them. He bent down to kiss her. Journey patted Sparrow’s back and got loose from Ian while they were kissing. She laid her head on her mama’s chest and put her thumb in her mouth.

“God, I love my girls,” Ian said, taking in the picture they made. He moved to the couch across from them and sat down. “If you want to confront Brooke, I’ll back off and let you do your thing, but promise me that someone is with you when you do. I don’t trust that girl. We can decide what to tell Beckham after that.”

“Maybe she was just trying to be silly and didn’t expect me to get so hurt…”

His blue eyes darkened as he just stared at her. Finally: “I’m not even gonna respond to that.”

Sparrow shot him a look of her own and pressed her lips on the top of Journey’s head. Journey’s eyes were drooping and within seconds, she was out.

A loud knock on the door made Journey jump, and her eyes popped open. Ian felt the frustration he’d never known until becoming a father—he wanted to strangle anyone who woke up his child.

“We need to put a sign up in the window when she’s sleeping,” he grumbled.

Sparrow smirked. “Okay, Grumpa.”

“You’re so lippy tonight,” he said before opening the door. “If your foot wasn’t so hurt, I’d take you over my knee.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mr.-” Her words were cut off when she saw who he’d let inside the bus.

Beckham and Brooke.

“So sorry you got hurt tonight, Sparrow. Is it broken?” Beckham asked.

“Tyler thinks it’s a bad sprain.”

“Still hurts like a mother-” Beckham paused when he saw Journey smiling up at him.

Brooke cleared her throat. “I told Beckham I wanted to come with him to talk to you—I feel terrible about what happened.”

“Do you?” Sparrow asked, not sounding very convinced.

“Well, yes. I think the whole thing was my fault.” Her words came stumbling out. “I was rushing backstage and tripped on something, and I think it’s what made you fall.” She stepped closer to Sparrow, but kept glancing at Ian and Beckham. “And then it was chaotic back there. When I knew they were going to get help for you, I thought I better hurry onstage for the next song. I felt so bad not knowing for sure what happened.”

Sparrow’s eyes narrowed, but she gave a slight nod.

“I’m so glad it’s not broken.” Brooke flashed a toothy smile.

“Yeah, me too,” Sparrow said.

“You look exhausted. We better let her rest, Beckham,” Brooke said, stepping toward Beckham and putting her hand on his arm. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“Me too,” Beckham added. “I can make sure there’s unlimited ice cream delivered while you’re recovering…”

“Not necessary!” Sparrow smiled.

Ian gave Sparrow a look, trying to gauge whether she wanted to say anything else. She shook her head slightly, and he reluctantly let it go. He didn’t trust Brooke, but maybe she hadn’t set out to purposely hurt Sparrow. He’d just have to keep an eye on her.

Beckham was taunting her … and winning. Roxie ignored him every time she saw him, but onstage every night, he was right. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was putty in his hands. Her body trembled when he touched her. It was the only time she looked at him honestly, so she took full advantage, not taking her eyes off his. She lived to have her hands on him.

They’d been on the road eleven days and they were both getting more daring each night. During the Vegas show the night before, she’d been sure he was going to kiss her right there, but he teased her by coming as close as possible before pulling away. The audience had gone wild, screaming and cheering. She’d been disappointed he hadn’t kissed her and knew she had it bad.

She made a cup of coffee and looked at the time. Leo usually called her or Skyped when he woke up every day, but she hadn’t heard from him yet this morning. She missed him terribly, even though Chloe and Leo had already met up with her quite a bit in the past week and a half. They’d driven to the closer places and had flown once. Five days out of eleven wasn’t too bad, she told herself. No, it was awful—she hated being away from him for any length of time. After each paycheck, she planned to deposit two thousand in savings and then go online to hunt down the best deals for plane tickets and hotels.

She stretched out on the couch and took sips of coffee, while her thoughts sluggishly wandered back to Beckham. She was making herself sick thinking about him so much. She knew she was sending conflicting messages, not only to him, but to herself. He might seem harmless right now, but she knew full well the effect he had on her. He was deadly. She wouldn’t let him destroy her life. Once was enough.

They were spending a couple of days in Vegas, one more concert there, and a couple of TV spots. Then they’d be making the long haul to St. Paul and then Chicago.

Roxie’s stomach growled so loud it should have woken up the entire bus. No one made a peep, so Roxie quietly left the bus, the sunshine nearly knocking her over with its brightness.

Beckham was just walking out of his. She hadn’t even realized their buses were parked next to each other. He was wearing a fedora and sunglasses. She would have recognized him instantly by his relaxed stride alone.

“What are you doin’?” Beckham asked.

“Looking for a massive buffet,” she said softly.

“That’s what I wanna do!” Beckham whisper-yelled back. He looked at her with his eyebrows raised. “You okay if I join?”

She gave a little shrug and he lifted both arms in the sky.

“Roxie Taylor sorta said yes! Woohoo!”

She raised her eyebrow back. “Is that how you read that?” But she couldn’t help the grin that was covering her face.

“It’s exactly how I read that. Breakfast date with Roxie,” Beckham teased under his breath. “Want the best breakfast or the really good and fastest?”

“The best.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“I’ve never eaten so much in my life,” Roxie groaned.

“There’s more. You have some work to do.”

Beckham had ordered one of everything. They polished most of it off, but there was still a plate with heaping pineapple French toast. Roxie hit her limit with the omelet, potatoes, fruit, and beignets.

They had snuck into the Wynn the back way, avoiding any screaming fans. Beckham kept his head down the few times they came into close contact with people. She was shocked that he managed to stay undetected … until he took his hat and glasses off in the restaurant.

The conversation was easy and light, even though people suddenly started coming by the droves to ask Beckham for his autograph. He was kind to everyone and posed for a few pictures. Roxie was impressed that he didn’t seem bugged at all by his meal getting continuously interrupted. The manager eventually came to their table and said he could take them to a private dining room. They hurried down the hall, into the much smaller room, and what was left of their food sat at an elegant table. Roxie picked at the French toast.

“Do you get sick of all the attention?” Roxie asked.

“You know … I recognize the fact that the fans are the ones who got me here, but … yes. I do get sick of it. It isn’t that I’m not grateful. I am. It does get grueling, though. I know it sounds clichй, but I’d rather just be about the music. That starts to become only a small part. I miss the days when I could sing in a small club and not get mobbed everywhere I go. I know it’s a mixed bag. I should be happy for the success, period, but I’m not cut out for this. Especially not sober.” Beckham leaned back in his chair and stretched.

Roxie nodded. “I can only imagine. It’s exhausting seeing you deal with it during this one meal. It’s constant, isn’t it? I mean, the crowd outside each arena when we pull into every town is enough to send me running for cover.”

Beckham laughed. “You should do a meet and greet with me sometime. It’s great and sometimes very, very frightening.”

“No, thank you.” She smiled as she said it.

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his and lacing his fingers through hers. “Please?”

She grew very still but didn’t take her hand away. “What are you asking for exactly?” she whispered.

“Everything. I’m asking for everything.”

He studied her eyes as she tried to keep the alarm out of them. His other hand stroked the inside of her wrist. Without taking his eyes off her, he lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed it, so soft that she shivered.

“You have me right here,” he said, kissing the palm of her hand.

“Why me?” she whispered. “Why now? I don’t know what you could possibly like about me at this point…”

“I like that I can barely touch you like this and yet it feels like my skin is going to explode from it. I like the love we’re making onstage every night. It’s driving me insane, you know.” She started to protest and he shook his head. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true. It’s totally what we’re doing.” He leaned in closer, until his head was an inch from hers. “I like the way you make everyone laugh and the way you’ve made everyone (but me, by the way) a scarf. I like that you ate all this food with me. I like everything about you except for the fact that you sometimes act like you want nothing to do with me.” His voice got lower and lower. “I like the heat in your eyes when I make you angry. I like the way your lips curl up when you try to hide a smile from me. I like that I want to be around you all the time. I like the way you look in everything you wear. I like imagining you out of everything you wear.”

She took her hand away from his. “Sometimes want nothing to do with you?” She tried to laugh, but it was weak. “I think that’s exactly it right there. I’m the only girl who doesn’t want you.”

“That’s all you heard of what I just said?” He laughed. “And not true,” he said, taking her hand back in his. “That’s not why I like you, it’s what I dislike about you, and … are you sure you don’t want me?” He leaned over until his forehead touched hers. “Tell me you’re sure and I’ll stop.”

“I’m sure I shouldn’t want you,” Roxie said.

“Two very different things. I’ll take it,” he said.

He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. Soft and gentle, but completely turning her world upside down. Her heart lifted like dandelion dust flying toward the sun.

“I knew I would like that about you too.” He touched her lips with his finger and then followed with his tongue, teasing her, while he looked into her eyes.

Roxie’s heart drummed through her chest. He was torturing her by taking his time, and he knew it. He smiled against her lips, as his tongue ventured inside, taunting her with his restraint. His fingers brushed against her cheek, leaving fiery sparks underneath her skin, until she felt consumed. She put her hands in his curly hair and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

His composure went out the window.

He moaned and gripped her hair in both fists as he explored her mouth.

A feverish dance; it was an extension of the way they moved together on the stage. She’d never felt anything more perfect. It was as if she were floating, and yet, grounded at the same time. Nothing existed but the two of them.

Until the fog broke and the commotion nearby was suddenly loud enough to penetrate their bubble. They slowly broke the kiss, but Beckham didn’t let go. Their server walked in, apologizing for the disturbance. Roxie jumped and collided into Beckham. He backed away, holding his nose.

Their moment was lost.

She didn’t look at Beckham once as they walked back to the bus. But fuck it all … kissing her had been worth it. He wanted to ask if he’d really blown it with her, but the thought of how she’d felt in his arms was too right. It couldn’t be a mistake. She wanted him too, no question. It clarified everything for him.

When they reached the buses, Roxie said, “That can’t happen again, Beckham.”

“Why not?” he asked, his heart deflating.

“I know you might remember me differently—if you ever start to remember me at all—but I’m not just some groupie, Beckham. I can’t just … have meaningless flings whenever I get a whim. I’m a responsible adult who has to make responsible decisions and you are not a responsible decision.” She turned around to walk away.

It was like a sharp kick in the gut. He felt sick.

“Roxie, wait. Please. Don’t shut me out again. It was just a kiss.”

She glared at him.

“I know,” his voice rushed out, while he held onto her arm, “it was so much more than that, wasn’t it? I felt it too.”

He looked at her and wished she could see into his mind and heart, how he felt about her.

“I’m not proud of my past. Not at all.” He looked up at the sky and took a breath. “Please hear me. I don’t need another meaningless fling, Roxie. I want you. We’re not there yet, but … I’m dying for you to give me a chance. And I don’t mean sex,” he said, through his teeth. “I mean, me. Please give me a chance.”

Her face softened for a second. He really thought she might say yes.

“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered.

He nodded, backed up a step, and let her go.

Beckham and Ian had to be at the TV station that afternoon. Anthony had gone to check the size of the studio the day before and said it was too small for everyone. Roxie would be the only dancer. She seemed fine with Ian and the guys in the band, cracking jokes about the billboards they passed on the way, but she didn’t look at Beckham the whole ride.

Right before he and Ian were supposed to go chat up the host, Rrrrrandy Reynolds, Beckham’s cell buzzed and it was his manager. Nate knew he was due to go on air. Beckham pushed the silencer and seconds later, Anthony called.

Crap, what’s going on?

He put his phone in his pocket and walked out to meet the smiley, tan guy. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to do this show. The guy had jackass written all over him.

Once they had him all hooked up and did the preliminary greetings, they did the countdown to live. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, cheesy music played.

“Beckham Woods and Ian Sterling! Welcome. The two of you have taken the entertainment industry by storm with this combined tour, playing sold-out shows every night. That has to be the best feeling in the world. What made you decide to tour together?” He looked at Beckham.

“It’s been great. When we saw an opportunity to work together, we both jumped at the chance,” Beckham said. “Being onstage with Ian every night—most fun I’ve ever had.”

The host and camera crew let out a loud ‘Awwww’ and Beckham and Ian both laughed.

“I’m the lucky one,” Ian added.

“We’ve got a bromance going on, folks,” Randy Reynolds said, facing the camera. “Lots of romance on this tour, it seems. Your wife is on the tour with you, right, Ian?”

“Yes.” Ian smiled.

“You two have been heating it up onstage too.” He pointed behind them and a clip played of Ian and Sparrow kissing after their song.

Ian laughed. “Keepin’ the love alive,” he said.

“You’re not the only one!” Randy pointed to the screen behind Beckham.

Beckham watched, stunned, as two pictures of him with Roxie flashed in slow succession. Both pictures showed them locked in a passionate kiss, but one was especially explicit. All he saw was tongues. Roxie would kill him. He turned and tried to see her reaction, but the lights were too bright.

“Bastard!” came out of Beckham’s mouth before he could stop it. He wanted to first wring the restaurant manager’s neck for basically handing the photographer a perfect shot and then have a go at the guy in front of him. “What kind of show is this?”

Randy laughed at Beckham, as if they were in on a joke together. His smile dimmed somewhat when he saw the look in Beckham’s eyes, and he started talking quickly to cover the awkward pause that filled the air.

“What happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “It’s great to see you dating again. There’s been a long lull, hasn’t there? You haven’t really been linked with anyone since … your rehab stint. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“I’m here to talk about the show tonight. 8 p.m. at MGM Grand. Hope to see you there,” he said to the camera, paused a moment, and then pulled off his lapel mic.

Randy frantically motioned for the cameraman to cut. His expression was panicked until the camera turned to Ian. Randy’s face suddenly brightened with his phony smile.

“So how does your wife handle all the groupies? I know they must come out in the droves with both you and Beckham.”

Ian sat back in his seat, crossed his arms, and stared down the host. He didn’t say a word. The man began fidgeting. Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip.

“So the music…” he started.

“There we go,” Ian leaned forward, “that’s the direction you take in interviewing a musician. What do you want to know?”

“I-uh, what have you learned musically from Beckham and what do you think he’s learned from you?”

“I’ve learned that I suck as a dancer, unlike Beckham. And musically, playing with someone as talented as Beckham makes anyone better. Pushes me to work harder.” He shrugged. “You’d have to ask him what he’s learned from me.” He gave the host a shit-eating grin that was not returned.

“Thanks for your time today. Ian Sterling, everyone. Make sure you come out to see Ian and Beckham Woods tonight. After the commercial, we’ll…”

The producer rushed as far forward as he could without being in the shot. He was shaking his head and sliding a hand across his throat.

“We’ll b-be back,” Randy stuttered. His shoulders drooped when the commercial started. “I thought they were singing,” he said to the producer and waved an arm toward Ian.

Ian was already taking off his microphone. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be singing today,” he said. “Jerky thing to do, man, bringing up rehab and then pictures of an obviously private moment? Not cool.”

Randy sneered, nothing close to a smile, phony or otherwise.

Ian shook his head, gave him the bird, and stalked off.

The band and Roxie were on the sidelines, watching everything. Beckham was pacing the hall by the exit. No one said a word. They filed out behind him and crawled back into the limo. Somehow Beckham ended up by Roxie.

“Shit, I coulda slept longer,” Taz joked.

T.J. bopped him on the head. “Shut up, Taz.”

They all looked at Beckham and Roxie. She flushed and looked out the window.

“I’m really sorry, Roxie,” Beckham said softly.

She looked at him and barely nodded. “I know you didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He leaned his head back on the seat and pulled out his cell phone. He had a few voicemails and texts waiting. He texted Howie, even though Howie was in the limo with him.

We need more security. 24 hrs. Extra on Roxie.

Howie checked his phone then looked at Beckham and gave a subtle nod.

As soon as they got back, he went straight to his bus. There was a room booked for him at MGM, but he’d given it to Sierra. He went and stretched out on his bed and called Nate.

“Hey, there you are. Was trying to catch you before you went on the show.”

“Pictures of me with Roxie—are they everywhere?”

“Yep.”

He let out a string of curses as he got up and paced the bus.

“I like this girl, Nate. I don’t want to scare her off. She’s not even sure she likes me most days.”

“Well, that’s a twist,” Nate said. “Maybe we’ll keep her.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed. “So … I’ve gotta ask. I’m assuming Roxie is the one you called about before the tour—is that right?”

Beckham was quiet. “I forgot about that,” he finally said.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, there are a few ways to play this. You can either wait for it to die down, which means don’t get caught with her again. Or, you can just enjoy your tour and not worry about it. Get your picture with some hot fans—or better yet, I heard Taylor Swift will be at tomorrow night’s show. We’ll get a picture and let that circulate a bit.”

“No way am I gonna get messed up in that. She’ll be writing a song about me,” Beckham scoffed.

“That wouldn’t be all bad,” Nate mused. “You know she’s always been hot for you.”