Turning her focus back on me, she gives a wary smile. “One more thing before I leave you, I know you need to get warmed up and have a sound check. How do you want to deal with the media discussing you dating one of your band members?”
Instinctively, my mouth opens to respond, but I find I don’t have an answer. I’ve never been asked my opinion on managing my PR. Keaton squeezes my shoulder. With a single glance at him, I interpret what he’s saying. “We’ll discuss it as a group and get back to you.”
“Excellent,” she quips, packing up her tablet and positioning the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “You have my number, and I’ll be close by if you need anything. I’ll get started on cleaning up the operation so we can move on to more important things, like your career goals.”
“Thank you so much for being here, Izzy. I appreciate all the hard work I know is coming your way.” I almost feel like giving her the biggest hug… you know what? Fuck it. I close the distance and hug her quickly before stepping back.
Her expression softens from the surprised shock on her features. “It’s my pleasure, Raina. You deserve to have all the support after what you’ve been through.”
This time, it’s my turn to rock back in shock. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve had plenty of experience with the vile nature of the paparazzi, and I’ve done my research before taking the job. I might not know specific details of what you’ve been through, but I’m well versed in reading between the lines.” She softly squeezes my arm. “I’m here for you and will support you inanything you need. I’ll be the protective big sister you’ve never had.”
The saint that is my new manager hasn’t been gone long—my other guys haven’t even found their way back in yet—before a knock sounds at the door. Keaton is quick to answer, a scowl on his face like he can protect me from anyone and anything. It makes me smile, the sense of being cared for washing over me.
“So sorry to interrupt, but everyone is needed for sound check.” The woman tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and clutches a tablet against her chest. She’s dressed in a sharp pair of pants with a flowy top that complements her curves.
The moment I step from The Storm, she holds her hand out. “My name’s Gill. It’s an honor to be working on your tour. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if anything isn’t running smoothly or if I can do anything for you.”
“I appreciate you being here, Gill. I hope you enjoy the chaos that comes with a tour. Each day is filled with numerous fires to put out.” I let out a laugh, knowing I’m only aware of a fractionof what happens in the day to day. “Please trust that I’m grateful for everything your job entails.”
We make it to the back entrance of the venue, where I offer a few waves to some fans before walking through the door held open by security. Gill smoothly navigates through the maze of hallways, and with a glance at her tablet, I find she has a map there. Smart.
“Honestly, you’re not what I expected at all,” she states, almost under her breath. “I know not to believe what the media reports, but you have to wonder if there’s even a kernel of truth in what they say.”
She glances over at me, and her eyes go wide, like she realizes what she said out loud without necessarily meaning to. I can’t help but laugh. I get this reaction a lot, but somehow I find her refreshing. “Don’t worry about it. You aren’t the first person to admit it to me.”
“For the record, I don’t believe the rumors or the vile things your old band said. I prefer to judge a character for myself.”
“I appreciate that, Gill, but I’m not so sure. The band’s comments were probably born from days I was denied coffee.” We both share a laugh.
“Pfft. You might think it’s early yet, but I can tell we’ll get along great.” She tucks her hair behind her ear again and glances at her tablet like she’s suddenly become shy. “Maybe I’ll make sure to have coffee on hand at all times, just in case.”
We come to a stop at the edge of the stage where Keaton continues to his drum kit. He spins his sticks as he finds his seat and makes sure everything is situated exactly how he wants it. He catches me watching and brings his sticks to his mouth, where he licks them with the flat of his tongue. My face instantly heats, and I quickly glance around to make sure nobody else saw him.
“You don’t seem to believe me, but I’ve heard plenty of people on tour already talking about how nice you are and nothing like the stuck up personality we’ve been fed.” Her hand squeezes my arm in a friendly gesture that I can’t help but enjoy. Nobody has ever dared to get friendly with me, not when Alyssa has always found a way to make their life hell. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. You’re amazing, and I have a feeling that you’ll start to shine like you never have before.”
“Thanks, Gill.” For some reason, my throat becomes tight, emotion accumulating there that I’m not sure how to process. The need to escape overwhelms me, but it’s not the negative kind like I’ve encountered so many times before. Giving her a wobbly smile and a head gesture to the stage, I say, “I better join the band.”
“Enjoy your sound check,” she replies lightly, giving her attention over to the tablet.
As I stride across the stage, I find everyone in their places, except Darius. Dejavu hits me as my eyes narrow, searching the expanse of our performing area and then into the wings, trying to spot him in case I simply missed him.
He’s nowhere to be seen.
Fucking great.
We have to jump into performing with someone new, having never practiced together before, and now he’s late to our first and only chance to learn to meld together before we have an audience of several thousand judging people.
My stomach cramps with not finding him. Did he change his mind? Or worse yet, did the man who holds my shackles? He’s no doubt a plant from Dickless. We already have someone on the team giving away information that’s protected by an NDA, which I suspect came from Alyssa—why wouldn’t they try to get even more vulnerable information that only someone in the band could produce?
Now that I think of it, that man hasn’t given me anything without a fight since the moment I resisted acting like his whore. Why would he all of a sudden decide to be generous toward me, even if he does plan on charging me extra shows so he can make lord knows how much more off me, not to mention boosting the name of his newest talent.
It’s fucking bullshit. I don’t trust any of it at all.
Why in the world would someone with perfect pitch—like he’s supposedly capable of—be available on short notice like this? I can’t trust a single thing when it comes to Dickless, which means I can’t let my guard down around Darius, either. No matter what happens when we make music together.
A squeak sounds as my teeth grit together, a noise that makes me shudder in discomfort. It’s akin to nails on a chalkboard or biting against tin foil. My nerves are frayed, and we aren’t even to the challenging part of my day. It’ll be a long one, that’s for sure.
