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I pulled back. A sad look passed over her face, but then it brightened. “I had fun last night. Take my number and call me. Anytime.”
“I had fun too.” I pretended to enter her number into the phone, which wasn’t actually my phone, as she dictated it.
She nodded at me. “And my last name is Buchanan. Dina Buchanan.”
“Buchanan. Got it.” I fake-entered her last name.
Other girls were watching our interaction. They got bolder. Soon, they were snapping selfies with me. This was turning into a meet-and-greet right before my eyes — the most hated part of my job. The atmosphere outside turned even more festive when the rumor circulated that the fire was a false alarm. Someone had supposedly burned some popcorn, which triggered the alarm.
My head was still throbbing as I chatted with yet another fan. At some point, the cell phone girl snatched back her phone and began snapping a million pictures of me.
I noticed a tall girl at the periphery of the crowd patiently waiting her turn to get a selfie with me, but other girls kept cutting in. After ten minutes of being mauled by girls and even a few guys, I caught her eye again. She finally stepped up.
“Can I get a picture with you?” she asked meekly.
I noticed her flip-flops right away. Some dick had stepped on my bare foot as soon as the crowd tightened around me and it had been throbbing in time with my head ever since. I’d been vigilant since then, trying to keep my bruised and freezing feet from any more abuse. I’d had one eye latched onto where everyone’s feet were for self-preservation purposes.
She had pretty big feet for a girl. Her flip-flops had silver, sparkly straps.
“You can get a picture with me if you do me a favor.”
Her eyes bugged out. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll trade you.” My eyebrows lifted. “A picture with me for your flip-flops.”
“You want my flip-flops? You have a fetish or something?” She looked confused.
“Something.”
She giggled, but then kicked off her flip-flops and handed them over to me. She handed over her phone to her friend and then we posed together. Her friend snapped a ton of shots. She thanked me and was about to leave when I grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
She had to be just under 6 feet tall. I didn’t feel that much taller than her when I usually dwarfed other girls. Still, I was able to dip her and land a surprise kiss on her lips.
Her shock turned to glee as I righted her again. She squealed as her friend cried out that she’d gotten it all on camera.
Just then, some new siren sounds mixed with the unrelenting fire alarm from the building. Fire trucks were now coming down the street to join the melee. I glanced over my shoulder at the building but still couldn’t see any blazing fire. All of this was for burnt popcorn. Who ate fucking popcorn for breakfast, anyway?
The noisy and chaotic arrival of the several fire engines momentarily distracted the crowd. Timing it just right, I made my escape and melted off toward the pickup spot.
The black Lincoln Navigator with the tinted windows pulled up to me. I hopped into the back seat and before my back even hit the black leather of the seat, the behemoth car smoothly pulled away.
Bishop had a crooked grin on his face. “Tell me you had nothing to do with the fire engines? Oh shit, what the hell are you wearing?”
Distracted, I ran a hand through my hair. “Don’t even ask.”
Bishop passed my cell phone back to me. “Keep ditching your phone like that, and I’m gonna have to chip you.”
Tracking our phones was a safety measure that our security team employed. None of us liked it, but it had proved invaluable a few times.
I laid my head back against the butter-soft leather. “You can yell at me after I get a cup of coffee in me.”
“You’re cutting it close.” Bishop glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. “Your appointment with the head shrinker is in 20 minutes.”
My therapy session. Fuck. I closed my eyes. I forgot about that. We were in the middle of a 3-week break from the tour, and I always tried to see Maggie in person when I could. I briefly thought about canceling, but I knew she would bust my balls if I did.
I moaned with irritation. “Do I have time to make it home for a quick change of clothes?”
“Nope.”
