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“You best get to it,” Gavin says, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll have the team start moving your things to the new bus.”
“I’m serious, man. Keep her the fuck away from Carter and vice versa.” I stare directly into Gavin’s eyes, so he understands I’m not playing about that.
“We’ll all keep an eye on her,” Ram assures me.
I grunt, but it’s better than nothing.
* * *
If you’ve done one meet and greet, you’ve done them all. You get a variety of faces, from middle-aged housewives with the money to drop on an hour-long experience, to college guys and twenty-somethings with dreams of their own.
Finally, you get a shit ton of available women. Not that the housewives don’t occasionally act like they are, but that’s an entirely different story.
Carter, Xavier, and Jack are huddled on one couch with a solid two-to-one ratio of women trying to fit in their laps.
Ramsey is off to the side, signing his sticks for some guys who seem to like our music.
Fitz is chatting with a couple of chicks in short skirts and even smaller tops.
I roll my eyes, focusing on the poor photographer he dragged along for the ride. Maybe they are just friends, but from the way she’s focusing on anything but Fitz, I’ve got my doubts.
I wonder if she’s got any actual talent, or if she got the job through Fitz’s connections. It could go either way, despite what Gavin said.
Tinley is obviously out of her depth. She sidesteps a couple of women who are waiting for their chance to pounce. The second any of those women all over Carter, Xavier, or Jack get up to use the bathroom, or grab another drink, the ones in waiting will make their move. I’ve seen it play out one too many times.
I get it. It’s a fun story for them to tell their friends, but I guess I’m getting bored in my old age. This shit didn’t appeal to me when I was in my early twenties, and it sure doesn’t do a goddamn thing for me now that I’m almost into my thirties.
One of the women elbows Tinley, completely ignoring that she’s at fault, and glares at our new photographer for having the audacity to be in her way.
I roll my jaw from side to side and hold myself back from interfering.
It’s not my place. I’m already considered a dick, even by industry standards. The last thing I need is to rip that chick a new asshole in front of an audience, but come on. What happened to basic human decency?
These things really lower my opinion of humankind.
My eyes cut to Fitz. He’s apologizing and trying to disengage from the women he’s speaking to. He immediately beelines for Tinley, and I exhale heavily. He’s going to have his hands full. It’ll be practically impossible to be there for her and keep the fans happy. If he’s constantly focusing on his girlfriend, the masses will notice, and he’ll gain a reputation for being an asshole.
The label wants us to be attainable and accessible to perpetuate the dream that any lucky fan can land a rock star.
I never put any real energy into settling down for a reason.
This business ruins relationships.
Xavier starts grunting, and my eyes flick to the side. Fucking lovely. It’s reached the part of the night when the orgy starts.
I scoff, pushing myself off the couch.
Fitz guides Tinley toward the exit, but her eyes keep flying back to the show the guys are now putting on. It’s no great wonder why they make these things twenty-one and up.
It’s definitely not child friendly.
I snort, nodding at Ramsey to let him know I’m out.
I follow Fitz as he wraps an arm around the omega.
“Yeah, it’s kind of always like that.” He shrugs, but it’s clear he’s on edge by the fake nonchalance in his tone. I’ve noticed his accent only really shines through when he’s anxious or excited. It makes all of his words run together.
“I didn’t mind,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him. “But I guess that’s probably not the kind of thing the label wants documented.”
