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I get a bitter taste in my mouth. I may not know what Birdie and I are to each other yet, but I do know that I don’t want to know about her and Gabe. The dude is a social climber. I can smell his desperation a mile away.
Instead of giving in to Gabe’s bait, or whatever the hell he’s trying to do by telling me that information, I turn my focus back to Birdie. She’s singing an Aerosmith cover, and someone just threw their bra on stage. Such a bizarre thing to watch.
Birdie picks it up and acts like she’s going to put it on, but it’s meant for someone with small boobs. She shakes her head and mouths,it doesn’t fit, before throwing it back into the audience. I smile. I know why she refuses to cancel the tour, she’s at home on the stage. A whole other side of her comes out—it’s brilliant to watch.
When we were “fighting” I’d skip her show because I couldn’t stand to watch her while we were at odds. But tonight, everything is different.
When I woke up this morning with her in my arms, it’s as if I saw clearly for the first time. Then today, watching from the control room, helpless, seeing the way she panicked when the stalker called in, every instinct in me flared. Before I wanted to protect her, now there’s no other option. The thought of even a hair on her head being harmed makes my blood boil. I’d only just found her again, if anything happened—
No. I can’t let myself think like that.
Flashes of Maria and the day of the accident march through my mind. The loud sound of Jane doing a drum solo is the only thing that pulls me out of it. I flinch. Usually my PTSD is just memories, but the sound of the banging drums is starting to bother me. I look at my watch, the show is almost over. I can grin and bear it.
After a minute the song finishes, and Birdie addresses the audience. She has them in the palm of her hand. It’s amazing how she can get that many people to listen to her at the drop of a hat. Then, for just a second, her eyes dart to mine and she winks. She has me hook, line, and sinker.Double fuck.
“Atlanta!” she yells. “Do you want to hear a little story?”
“YES!” they collectively yell back and cheer wildly.
“Okay! Okay! Everyone calm down,” she laughs. “Well, you all know my little song “Desire Reigns,” right?” The audience goes nuts. “As most of you know, that song is about an unrequited love. And recently I had the chance to reunite with him.” A collective round of awws and cheers erupt through the stadium. My pulse skyrockets and my palms sweat, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
She continues, “Though I’m not sure where it all will lead, my message to you is this, you never know where your life will lead. Open your heart. Open your mind. Be willing to listen and forgive. If you close yourself off forever, you may miss out on something wonderful.”
Birdie glances at me again just before her band strikes the first chord of the song. She winks again and my pulse spikes for a totally different reason. A feeling of adoration wraps around me as I listen to her sing.
“This is going to be all over the news,” Shea says to my left. When I look at her, there’s a smug smile on her lips. Just like the one from earlier this morning. “You’re the unrequited love, aren’t you?”
“I’ll let Birdie tell her story. It’s not my place.” I move my attention away from Shea, my eyes back on the blonde in question. She’s swaying back and forth—I can’t help but smile at the image. Today she’s wearing a knee length snakeskin skirt that’s deliciously form fitting with a short pink T-shirt she’s knotted at the side. Of course, she’s barefoot, as usual.
“Be careful. If you break her heart, it will end the tour,” Shea clips.
I can feel her eyes burning into me. She wants me to admit I’d never break Birdie’s heart. Thus confirming what she already knows. “Birdie would never cancel the tour,” is all I say.
She lets out a tight breath then turns on her heel to leave. As she walks away, I swear I hear her say, “We’ll see about that.”
Birdie is talking with a reporter from some music magazine. I’m standing close to her, the amount of people in this room is making me nervous. We should have canceled the meet-and-greets, but Birdie would hear none of it.
“On stage tonight you mentioned you recently reunited with the person you wroteDesire Reignsabout. Care to divulge who he is?” The reporter asks.
I try to keep my face neutral, but my shoulders pull back a bit. Birdie doesn’t even bat an eye at the question. I’m sure she’s been asked worse than that before. She takes every question in stride like a pro.
“He’s an old friend. That’s all you need to know,” she smiles.
“As always Birdie, you keep your life close to your chest.”
She laughs sweetly. “It’s my private life. Emphasis on private.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Birdie. See you next time you’re in Atlanta.”
“Thanks, Trixie.”
Trixie walks away and Gia tells Birdie she’s done with interviews and meet-and-greets tonight. She then addresses me, “You can take her back to wherever she needs to go. Just let the extra security we hired know when you’re transporting.”
“Copy that,” I nod.
“See you tomorrow, B. Today was… well, I’m beat.” Gia sighs.
Birdie hugs her tight. “Sleep well. Thanks for everything, Gia.”
