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Chapter Ten
Baby Love McKinley
We're in Vegas. The guys did the final leg of the Damian Sinclair memorial tour, but they had a special promo show this afternoon outside of that tour.
The crush of people backstage is ridiculous. It's not unusual to see people standing around watching the performances from back here, but this area is packed.
Vince looks about as feral as a man can as he growls at anyone who gets too close to my stomach.
"You should have skipped this one," Vince says directly against my ear so I can hear him. "They're big boys, they can look after themselves."
I snort. I'm aware of that, but I also love watching them perform. They've got this crazy energy that's contagious whenever they're on stage.
"Back the fuck off," Vince growls at the guy leaning into my back. "She's fucking pregnant, you dick."
"No, really? I never would have guessed," the smart-ass says, smirking. He's got a mohawk and tattoos covering every inch of visible skin. "I'd still do you." He shoots me a wink.
I grin back.
"Thanks," I say, my voice lined with humor.
I'm guessing he's a stage hand or roadie.
Vince growls, low and menacing.
"Chill out," I hiss, rolling my eyes at him. I'm more than capable of handling guys like him. I'm an old pro at being a musician's girlfriend.
"Yeah, man, chill out," the guy says, laughing.
The screams from the audience are deafening. My eyes fly back to Dex and Issac. They're bouncing around doing the intro for their last song. It's not a huge venue, but there are probably three or four hundred people in the standing-room-only venue.
The music starts and the baby jumps around. The guys switch guitars mid-song, and the audience loses their shit. Women shriek. It's their signature move; they take over the other's part, and the audience loves it. They toss their guitars back, and Dex slides across the stage on his knees. The women scream and jump wildly.
Meanwhile, the random guy continues breathing all over my neck. I give him a swift elbow to the gut. "Oh shit, sorry," I say, pretending to grimace.
Dexter and Issac finish out the last of the song, handing off their guitars. They do their thing, bouncing around the stage, popping backstage and jumping out again. They run to the front, ripping off their shirts and tossing them to the screaming fans.
"You're gonna wanna get out of the way," the pushy guy says. "They aren't going to want some pregnant chick blocking their exit when they pop offstage."
I roll my eyes.
Good Lord, this man is clueless.
"I don't think Matted Whineis going to settle for a pregnant groupie," dickface says, laughing as he tries to pull me out of the way.
Vince slams the guy up against the wall so fast my head barely tracks the movement.
"You're one stupid motherfucker, aren't you?" Vince growls.
The security backstage moves toward Vince until Jude intervenes. He stayed back, not wanting to be up in the crush of people.
"Fuck, man, I was trying to help her. Like those guys want some pregnant chick trying to spread her legs for an autograph," the idiot continues.
I laugh. Seriously, I do have some self-respect. Not that groupies in general don't. I've met some really fucking cool chicks over the years. I've met some pretty awful ones, too, but that's just like life in general. If a woman wants to fuck a rock star, then let her fuck a rock star. As long as it's notmyrock star. Okay, my rock stars. Yes, plural.
Dex bounces off the stage first. His beachy, salty scent hits my nostrils as he spots me and lights up.
"Hey, Baby. Did you like the show?" Dex asks, wrapping me up in his sweaty arms.
