“I like the sound of that! Let’s hit it, guys!” The band fired up their instruments, playing a song off their newest album titledZealous.
Their set was met with intense fervor from the crowd. It was a great show to start off the tour.
Jameson was in a full-blown sweat when he sat on the edge of the stage and addressed the crowd mid-set. “Atlanta, you’re one of the best crowds we’ve ever had!”
A chant built: “T-K-C! T-K-C!”
Jameson smiled out at the mass and then swung his head toward the wings, looking for Daisy. When his eyes met hers, he bit his bottom lip, looking a little sly, and shrugged. Daisy was confused by the gesture, but little did she know complete understanding was about to come full circle.
“You know, I strongly believe that a song can correlate to any moment of life. I’ve thought this for a while now and only ever shared it with a special few. It’s the oddest sensation when a song comes to you, rewarding even. And last night, a song came to me at the perfect moment, but I didn’t share it with anyone.” He looked over at the wings again, giving her the roguish smirk. “Not even the person I was with, but I think I’d like to share it now. Would you like that?”
The crowd screamed, but Jameson wasn’t satisfied. “I said, would you like that?”
The scream turned into a roar and the guys fired it back up.
Immediately, Daisy’s ears perked with familiarity and her body completely stilled with shock. She looked around to see if anyone was looking at her or if it was all in her head. No one stared or even blinked her way. That was until he sang the first line of a very popular, very suggestive rock song.
“Damn you, AC/DC,” she whispered to no one in particular, as he sang of “fast machines” and keeping “motors clean.” Sure,“Shook Me All Night Long”was a great song; she just wished he’d picked a more subtle hit.
It seemed that eyes from every angle bore into her, the most damning of them all being from Harley. It was no secret to the crew that Daisy and Jameson were together, but what was kept private was the nature of their personal relationship, especially their intimate one.
Yeah, not so much anymore.
She placed a hand over her mouth and looked out at the crowd. They were definitely feeling the classic song and to her gratitude were blissfully unaware of the girl backstage the song was directed toward.
When he began the second chorus, Harley strutted her long legs next to Daisy. “Didn’t think the docile artist had it in her.”
“I’m full of surprises, Harley,” Daisy murmured.
“This is good,” Harley said, all business. “He’s dripping sex appeal. Fans want the hot rock-star image. It makes him more desirable.”
That stopped Daisy, and before she could bite her tongue, she spat out, “And would you happen to be one ofthosefans, Harley?”
She didn’t look at Daisy. She only curved her mouth into a cunning smirk and said, “Aren’t we all?”
Bile rose. She had just received all the validation she needed.
Harley wanted him and Daisy was ready to fight tooth and nail before those manicured fingers touched him.
He was hers. Nothing and no one would come between them.
Or so she thought.
From Atlanta to Miami, Houston to Phoenix—the next two months blurred with excitement and unrest. They hit cities like a hurricane, then vanished, leaving shock in their wake. The mania grew. NYX 5 might have been the headliner, but TKC was stealing hearts. Daisy laughed at the first “Let me have your babies, J-Kingston” shirt. The tenth time… less funny.
Did everyone want to sleep with her man? If the shirts meant anything: yes. Luckily, he only wanted one girl.
New Orleans was the rowdiest. Six people went to the hospital pre-show and during TKC’s set; some of the crowd broke the gate, trying to storm the stage. It was surreal, especially considering eight weeks ago Daisy had been a high-school senior.
She loved the culture of each stop but hated never staying long enough to feel it. When the guys did press or rehearsed, she slipped off the bus to explore. She even made friends—NYX 5’s backup singers had the biggest hearts and even bigger voices. The female energy saved her.
Oddly, Little Rock stole her heart: middle-America warmth, an unexpected outcry of support, and the best BBQ she’d ever had. It made her miss her mother’s cooking.
She called her mom almost daily. Short, PG check-ins. Her father… well, he never answered. Whether it was nights or early mornings, he was always “working.” The only communication was an occasional text: “Love you, Daisy,” or “Be safe, honey.”
It bothered her more than she let on. Somewhere inside, she was still the little girl who wanted her father’s approval.
Jameson hated seeing Daisy low. He flooded her with gifts and pulled her close whenever they were alone.
