* * *
After the band’s encore, the atmosphere behind the scenes goes crazy. There are hundreds of fans lined up requesting access for the fan meet and greet. It takes a bodyguard screaming at them to calm down or risk being kicked out before their eagerness dampens enough to give the instructions on how the meet and greet works.
Once I have the fans lucky enough to catch Slater’s drumsticks, Marcus and Nick’s guitar straps, and the personalized pick Noah uses when performing the acoustic version of “Surrender Me,” I hand them to Emily. The rest of the crowd has to select the band member they want to meet. Because of the number of fans and limited time, they can only request one of their idols.
* * *
I’m pleased to advise after much shuffling and over a hundred complaints, the lines are even for each band member, and the meet and greet begins without a hiccup.
* * *
By the time we’re down to the last two fans requesting to meet Noah, over two hours have ticked by, and I’m beyond exhausted.
“You did an excellent job tonight, Kylie. Thank you so much for your help.”
Even exhausted, I smile broadly. Emily’s praised wasn’t needed, but it’s nice to hear.
After gesturing for the final two fans to follow her, Emily cranks her neck back to peer at me. “You’re good to head off. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
I love that even though they’ve been waiting hours to meet their idol, the fans’ excitement is still evident on their faces.
With my curiosity still piqued, I head toward the wings of the stage instead of the big illuminated exit sign on my right. I doubt the roadies are still playing their game, but I’m not ready for bed just yet.
As I break through the thick curtain, someone yanks me back out. “You don’t want to go in there.”
A vein in Sonny’s neck beats out a funky tune as he peers down at me.
“Why?”
I’m reasonably sure I know why, but I want him to spell it out for me. When he remains quiet, I follow the direction of his gaze. Two pairs of legs are sticking out beneath the curtain. One is clad in jeans and black motorcycle boots, whereas the other has smooth beige legs and is wearing a pair of altitude-defying stilettos.
The bile in my stomach races to my throat when the female of the duo kneels in front of the jean-covered legs. “Is that Slater?” My heart is racing so fast, my question comes out in a tremble.
Not a word seeps from Sonny’s lips. He just bands his arm around my shoulders before forcefully walking me away from the exhibition tearing me in two.
The further we walk, the more my hurt morphs to anger. Even though I have no claim to Slater, it takes all my strength not to pull the groupie slut off him by the strands of her no doubt abhorrent head!
Actually, correct that. It takes all ofSonny’sstrength for me not to turn around. If he didn’t carry me into the closest dressing room, I’d be up in Slater’s face right now giving him a piece of my mind.
Over the next several minutes, I pace back and forth, cursing and mumbling incoherently under my breath in an attempt to rein my anger in.
After a beat, Sonny leaves his protective post at the door to stand in front of me. “Do you feel better?”
I shake my head. My fists are still clenched, and I feel seconds from detonation.
“Bourbon or vodka?”
As the ice inside of me freezes my heart, my eyes stray to Sonny. “Can I have both?”
A huge smile notches his lips high as he gestures his hand to the door he forced me through ten minutes ago. “Lead the way, Sugar Cup.”
Chapter Eleven
Slater
When I walk into the lobby of my hotel, Kylie’s faint giggle jingles into my ears. It takes me scanning the vast space three times before I spot her in the only establishment still open at two in the morning. I consider joining her for a nightcap before remembering what I said to her earlier. I asked her to let me live my life how I wanted, and she’s free to live hers how she sees fit. Besides, she handles her liquor better than most guys, so I’m confident she won’t get in any trouble.
As I turn toward the elevator banks, I catch sight of who Kylie is liaising with. Sonny swoops down low to plant a kiss on the edge of her mouth, laughing when her nose screws up from his scruff tickling her chin.
